#which if you're not familiar is just the most horrifying experience

[fractallogic]

FIREFOX WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM LATELY

my dude you can't be making my computer crash when I only have like 20 tabs open. that's rookie shit!

anyway my computer crashed right before the interview ended and too much memory was going ... somewhere ... for me to get R running right and they didn't tell me it was going to be a case study project thing that I'd be doing today instead of just a normal interview and AAAAAA.

maybe tomorrow I can just be fucking normal because oh my god. this is too stressful.

also my desk chair is starting to just. randomly. drop down very slowly. which means that at some point sooner than I want to I'll have to get another one. which SUCKS. but FINE. GOD.

[assortedvillainvault]

I said I was gonna request you, and i'm finally here. Can I request more fluff Headcanons for Facilier, Headless horseman and Horned king?? 🥺 Thank uuu 💫💫 hope you're doing amazing btw <3

BUBBLY i'm so so sorry for the wait on this, I've done nothing but rotate this ask in my head for 12 months, please enjoy-!

FLUFF HEADCANNONS

Dr Faciler:

- This MAN-

- Smooooooth as butter in a slow warmed skillet in summer.

- He’s an elegant chaperone draped in shadow, a hand in the darkness, a gentlemanly escort through the city streets, he’s basically able to hear you through every dark nook and cranny in New Orleans and assistance for anything is only the bat of an eyelash at a dark alley away.

- There’s. There’s so many petnames. The way he purrs ‘Darlin’’ feels like some kind of sin.

- You better believe half of New Orleans owes him a favour or two, so when he decides to take you out on the town, you’re getting nothing but the best service. It may not be the kind of highfalootin’ places he feels you deserve, but hidden in alleyways and in cellars lives New Orleans most raucous, lively, swingin’ nightlife and you’ll both be dancing till your feet fall off.

- Even as you both go for a pleasant walk around town, his ceaseless fingers are dipping into pockets and swiping passersby to get you something nice.

- While you’ve grown used to the sensation of being watched from the darkness, Facilier started taking pains to steer you away from where the city borders the bayou after you told him you felt watched there too.

- Mama Odie has her ways of keeping tabs on you both – and the horrified look on Facilier’s face when she hollered across the river “Stand up straight!” and “Y/N better be eatin’ right!” and “I better see some grandbabies!” (regardless of gender, she has her ways) was priceless.

Headless Horseman:

- Though he can vocalise, it often hurts, so when you appeared with a book on sign language he couldn’t help but sweep you up into a tight embrace.

- You’ve gotten familiar with the signs for ‘hello’ and ‘come here’ and ‘I love you’, the last being something he takes great pride in making you blush with.

- If you don’t know how to ride, he’ll teach you, though you know for a fact his horse Alpatraum only tolerates it because the Horseman is there to supervise. You’re getting thrown otherwise.

- (since learning said horse has a severe weakness for sugar cubes you’ve been graduated from ‘annoyance’ to ‘my annoyance with snacks’. He’ll let you pet him eventually, don’t worry.)

- If you have your own horse, it’s romantic nighttime rides through the woods as far as the eye can see. But HH's favourite is when you smirk and dare him to catch you, taking off at a gallop and laughing as he races in pursuit, the horses hooves like thunder as he gives chase.

- He loves it when you get chilly, because it means he can wrap you up in his cloak and snuggle in the saddle.

- Lowkey loves it when you carve him new faces/heads for halloween, though does have a slight caveat that you please keep the design somewhat frightening. If he’s left with the hello kitty pumpkin again yes he’ll begrudgingly wear it because you worked hard on it but you’re getting stuck up a tree as penance.

The Horned King

- Tf do you mean fluff he’s cold he’s hard he’s ragged he is terror he is death whispered on the wind-

-If you kiss his hand he nearly pitches over.

- The longer you’re in his company, the more you can observe his mocking use of endearments become ever so slowly more sincere, until only he is allowed to call you sweet things – which becomes a rule enforced with ruthless efficiency in his castle.

-He enjoys walking and talking with you, which is good because you’re the only person on the goddamn planet that can convince this lich to leave his depression hole of a private tower and get him to experience a change of scenery. Even just around the parapets would be enough, and then he gets to offer you his arm for the uneven ground and have you lean on him and oh, yes absolutely dear we can make this a daily occurrence-

- His major love language is quality time – simply being in your presence is enough to soothe the hard edges of any day. His favourite thing is just the two of you existing in the same space, quietly doing your own thing, and maybe settling in for some idle handholding just to make things Perfect.

- As a sidenote – you know the thing? With the gentle handholding and the little thumb-stroke over the back of the hand? Yeah. Yeah. That.

- Because he struggles with actually directly verbalising soft feelings (he’s allergic to announcing he’s secretly made of bone shaped mush), he’s come up with the genius coping mechanism of ‘Acts of Service – gaslighting edition’.

- Example:

- “...Sire did you order the men to renovate my room??”

- “The castle requires upkeep, my dear.”

- “...but the renovations seem to comprise of. Just my room.”

- “...Perhaps once the men and Creeper prove themselves deserving of leakproof roofs and sufficient insulation I will order their quarters improved also. Now hush.”

Once again Bubbly I'm so sorry for the wait, I hope you like these little bits!!

[whereserpentswalk]

You live on a planet where humans have been forced to have only one biological sex. You're at the edge of human space, and early in colonization you planet was under attack from an outside source, for survival you had to switch to artificial breeding, which is more effective in mammal species if there's only females, as male reproductive cells are easily synthesized.

You're the only humans in the region. Most alien species you interact with just think of humans as a single sexed species that has artifical reproduction. Though you understand that humans used to have two sexes you barely actually interact with that concept. You don't really think of yourself as having a gender identity or anything, you're kind of just a person. The last male human on your planet has been dead for generations.

You first saw a photo of human male in a history class when you were a teenager. He looked so odd to you. He was deep in the uncanny valley, something that felt very familiar to you, something you evolved to interact with, but something so unfamiliar. Illustrations of males, especially outside of academic sources, always play up unfamiliar features to make them into something almost like a fantasy race, but you find something almost charming about the one in the photo.

That photo sticks with you in a weird way. It's kind of scary. Especially the idea of living at a time with actual male female dynamics. The idea of a man being inside you, however that must work, seems so viscerally horrifying to you. You've known people who've had sex before, it's controversial in your society for people to have sex with eachother, but it's legal, but it seems so diffrent then whatever you'd be expected to do with a male human.

Time passes. You end up living your own life. You major in music once you get to college, and end up with a semi successful career as a guitarist in the capital of one of your planet's countries. Things go well for you. You live your life thinking slightly more about men then most people do, but it's never that important to you.

One day there's word that ambassadors from another human planet are visiting. They're from several systems away, and very culturally diffrent. And it's most likely that they'll have men with them. It's strange to think you might actually be able to see one. You think of them as this strange race of monsters, so clearly linked to you but unlike you. Everything people say about men, that they're violent and warlike, that they're superior yet evil, that they're weaker yet more honest and good natured, rushes through your head.

You sign up to be a musician in the welcoming band to the ambassadors. It's scary but you enter. You win, partly because you're local and talented, partly because most other musicians were too afraid.

When the ambassadors from another human planet show up its on one of your city's largest streets, with cheering crowds and flashing lights. You play a song you realize your entire planet is going to hear. Then for the first time in your life, after about two and a half decades of being alive, you see a male human.

The males in the ambassadorial mission are mixed together with normal people. But you can easily spot the males. They're strange looking to you, the way they walk, and speak and move. Though you realize their foreign way of dressing is honestly more alien then anything biological. Despite your expectations, the males look oddly human, they are human, they're just more like you then you'd expect, they look a bit diffrent, but they're honestly just normal people. It's almost anticlimactic.

When everyone is talking to eachother later you're meant to interact with the musicians of their world, most of whom seem to be male. It's so strange to think you're actually talking to someone whose male. You were kind of worried some sort of mating instincts would set in, but after a lifetime of being raised to never expect to have any sexual experiences that involve more then one person, your mind doesn't really go in that direction, even if you did have those instincts.

You end up talking for awhile in your only shared language (a long dead one) to another guitarist. He's male but it's weirdly not a big deal, he's less obviously male then some of the others, and he seems like a nice freindly person. You realize his voice is deep, but it's not distorted in monstrous like you expected it to be. You realize you shouldn't talk about his sex, so you talk about music. You end up really interested in his culture's musical traditions, and kind of ignore his sex. You almost forget he's a man. Since he'll probably have to stay on the planet for at least a few months he tells you he'd like to meet again mabye. He shakes your hand, his skin doesn't feel diffrent then anyone else's, you don't know why you'd expect it not to.

[signedeclipse]

I don't remember if you said it I think I should ask first if you're accepting requests out of your event bUT

I WAS READING YOUR PROMPT LIST AND

"Zenitsu and Kaigaku share the same love interest, Kaigaku finds out Zenitsu and her are dating when they meet again as a demon"

Eclipse dear this has so MUCH angst potential I can't even breathe

Reader would also a demon slayer in training, trying to master thunder breathing with the two boys! THE RIVALRYYY (this giving me obito kakashi and rin vibes)

LOVE TRIANGLES LOVE TRIANGLES

Zenitsu just shitting on Kaigaku bragging to hell about how he got his crush

COULD YOU DO IT COULD YOU? Headcanons would be good! This just seems like it would be a roller-coaster of emotions!

> XOXO bananaberry <

Kaigaku & Zenitsu [X Reader]

In which the two always fought for your hand, but one was eventually chosen.

You were the 'middle child' of sorts

Having been taken in by the former lightning hashira after your original master retired, you were ripe with energy neither were familiar with

The only difference was that you had nearly mastered the breathing, but lacked enough strength and agility to go through the final selection just yet

At first, Kaigaku was unsure of you, since you could do the one move he couldn't along with all others, you could be a threat to his hierarchy

But you spared your position no concern, in fact, you seemed oblivious to the lineup Kaigaku had made around the dojo; strongest to least in his own terms

Most annoyingly was that you were nice to Zenitsu

And rather than training with him, the strongest, you chose to work with the weakling

"He's unpredictable if he doesn't know anything, Kai! I already know everything you can do."

Something about that send him in an angry spiral, and that was when the first flash of jealousy ripped through him

Kaigaku will do anything to get you to talk to him, look at him, train with him, fuck, hes getting desperate over here

You didn't ignore him, but it was frustrating that just like your master, you regarded him and his inferior as equal

Zenitsu appreciated your company, since you spoke to him without the disgust others held, and without the formality his master had when having any conversation with him

And training with you was fun, because you didn't push him too far

You got through final selection a year before Kaigaku, and two before Zenitsu

Even so, between every mission you'd come back and share your growth with the two, telling them all the vital information you learnt through experience

Kaigaku ate everything up, and used it to practise for his, which he easily passed

Zenitsu had a rougher time, finding the stories you told horrifying, and he always worried about your safety

But you sending him off did help him feel loads better, even if only until he actually got there

And from there, both only saw you sparingly

Zenitsu wrote to you the moment he got any of your letters, so you were always in touch

Kaigaku wrote to you only when he defeated a demon, though those letters eventually stopped coming in as of a few months ago, right when you joined Zenitsu and his friends

You went with them to Mount Natagumo, meeting the new boy Inosuke, and eventually to the entertainment district, which you made many fond and dire memories

You were so distracted with every clash meeting its peak, that you hadn't thought of Kaigaku once, not until...

"Why are we stopping, 'Tsu? We need to hurry..."

You were in the infinity castle, being led by crows until they seemingly disappeared

Both of you sensed something, but it didn't feel unfamiliar

"All this time, and I've finally found you, princess!"

The voice was unmistakable, though a tad deeper and distorted than you remembered

Zenitsu never liked him, as much as he respected Kaigaku for his strength, it made sense that he'd become a demon out of his own selfishness

The confrontation is messy, the two clashing while you stood, paralyzed at the idea of harming someone who considered close

"Useless! You're nothing now, you lost your humanity, and the girl you love is mine! So just go to hell already you jerk!"

Now that stopped him too, though his attack continued to crack at Zenitsu's skin

It was then you swooped in to grab onto Zenitsu, holding him dearly, your engagement ring will visible on the hand wrapped around the hilt of your blade

What Kaigaku felt was beyond anger

Nothing but molten rage

Even after you'd both gotten up, throwing attack after attack, his mind was on nothing else

Even after his head had been slices clean off

Even as Zenitsu was saved from the fall and his head laid in your lap like a soft pillow

Even as Yushiro healed the cracks in his skin with you cupping Zenitsu's cheeks in worry

He couldn't stop wondering how the biggest loser he'd ever met took everything from him

Authors Note - Literally been holding onto this prompt forever and was just kicking my feet excitedly waiting for ANYONE to request it so THANK YOU BANANABERRY!!!!!!!!!!!! I hope I pulled this idea to justice,,,,

[withloveheart]

What do you feel about coffee dates being better because you can bail easier and it allows you to test the waters a lot better?

Hey habibti,

I don't see the reason why you can't bail or leave a dinner date? The only time I think that could be an issue is if you've been set up by a mutual friend or someone within your network and don't want to make your reputation look bad or be disrespectful to the person who is doing the matchmaking. Even for a good amount of those cases, there are still ways you can bail. Bailing on dinner dates isn't some mission impossible task. No one is holding a gun to your head to stay. Many women want to raise their standards and not allow a man to disrespect them and that is good. Yet not many people want to point out that if you are having a hard time walking away from something as simple as a dinner date, you will have an even harder time walking away from bigger issues in the relationships.

Dinner dates are also really good for the vetting process in my personal experience. The vetting process tends to be much quicker. Especially if you're paying attention.

Dinning Etiquette

On average dinner dates tend to be more formal and come with a certain set of expectations. The more experience someone has with dinner dates - especially at elevated restaurants - the more comfortable they are going to be at that environment. It's a good way of figuring out how familiar the man is to this sort of setting. It will be portrayed in the way he holds himself, his reaction to the menu and his knowledge of what is on it, the things he says, and more. When he eats, you will be able to take notice of whether he is good at navigating what fork to use and when to use it or does he look perplexed at what to do with the different utensils spread out before him. Men are expected to pay, that is pretty established, but with a dinner date you get to observe just how he reacts to having to pay. There are men who will pay but will expect something in return. Or his body language might expose him to be reluctant, annoyed, or seem like he was forced to pass over his card. A man who is used to these dates will behave very naturally and won't be causing a fuss whether that is verbally or nonverbally. You want to know if after he pays, he remains a gentleman and continues to behave just the way he was always behaving before the bill came. Keep in mind, there are men who will pay for a coffee but have trouble with paying for dinner too which is why I personally think dinner dates are better at vetting.

Personality

I love a man who can hold conversation. I'm not interested in men who have trouble guiding the conversation and seem to be at a loss for anything interesting to say. Nothing bores me more. Dinner dates are good at weeding out men like this. Especially since there is more pressure and his ability of holding a conversation is tested a lot better in comparison to a coffee date. It can also tell you a lot about his personality when it comes to planning a date, but I don't want to ramble too much on that. Dinner dates are also a great excuse for men to behave like gentleman. Depending on how he executes his mannerisms it can let you identify if it's natural for him to be a gentleman or just a temporary act. Initial observation is not always a guarantee, and this might take observation of his actions throughout your relationship to know if he is just naturally a gentleman, but dinner dates speed up that process or help set up the standard for that sort of treatment.

Men aren't obtuse to women feeling pressure to stay during the dinner date. Plenty of men know that it is very unlikely for a woman to just get up and leave. Most of us have had that experience where your friend has a terrible date and she's going on and on about one disrespect after the other and you are horrified as to all the things this man does, but for a lot of men they look at it differently. It's where the advice of don't tell men about how badly men treated you in your past relationships formed due to men using it to gauge how they can treat you and your self-worth. It's the same. There are constant stories online that men can come across of women giving these horrific date stories, their female friends are probably ranting to them about it, and they themselves have probably heard it from their friends or have done this to a girl. Men know most women aren't going to leave and that becomes a great vetting opportunity. There is a high chance that you are going to come in contact with a man who will use this to his advantage to be disrespectful, and once you've seen that you only need to leave. Vetting? Done. Barely any effort in situations like those. Casual dates where a woman can easily excuse herself and leave are less likely - not impossible - to show that side of a man. Thus, he has a better chance of convincing you that he is a great potential partner. Enough time for your brain to get hooked on him and start to make decisions blindly. These men are a lot smarter than what women will give them credit for.

Casual is getting in your way

Whenever the topic of casual dates is brought up, it's always framed as a date that can help you weed out or vet people you don't like, but personally I believe it has a way of hindering progress. There is a lot to notice about the way a man plans his dates. During the talking stage there will be certain details mentioned and men who pay attention are going to reflect that on the date. It's a small indicator of gauging his interest and personality. You can also see if he is the type to think ahead and assess the situation accurately. Some men might take you out some place loud and overwhelming, resulting in the two of you having trouble connecting and interacting with each other. Ultimately illustrating that this guy doesn't seem to think ahead. It could be overlooked if this was a restaurant he has never been to or if he bounces back from that mistake and learns from it. All of which can give you insight into how he handles problems and whether that works for you in a relationship. With a date that requires more effort and time out of both parties, it's a lot easier to clearly notice this.

Even when it comes to the vetting process, dates that tend to show more effort, specifically the formal ones, tend to give more opportunities for you to ask more serious questions. Questions that could help you with your vetting process. Additionally, it's important to note that if you are surrounded by friends and family with different dating standards, you are more prone to opening yourself up to people discouraging you of your own standards. I have friends who like to be spoiled and I have friends who do 50/50. I don't really judge if a woman wants to live her way differently than me. I know I can stand firm on my boundaries and what I expect out of life. However, many of you reading this could be still working on yourselves, maybe trying to destroy people pleasing tendencies, or just insecure about dating in general. When you aren't used to a certain treatment, it's easier for people to demoralize you. There are going to be woman who think you are overreacting when you complain about your coffee not being paid for and some women will not be ready to stand behind their standards as easily as others when it's under scrutiny.

I could argue this all day honestly.

With Love, Heart💚

[cipheramnesia]

Can you talk about Thelma (2017)?

Thelma is too much for one ask, but I can try. I'm fairly confident there are some specific religious and cultural touchstones I'm not familiar enough to unpack for starters, and the movie itself is so dense with possible readings that I could approach it from at least three separate angles. It's like... where exactly do I start at this?

Just on the most surface level, we're looking at an X-Men situation with the sudden introduction a superhuman ability in someone's life is used to parallel a wide array of different experiences of systemic oppression - I think mainly patriarchal, sexual, and religious but these are all wrapped together in much the same was as they tend to be in individual lives.

What personally gets my heart aflutter over Thelma are its queer elements. Not that these can be neatly separated from the others, but the way it plays with a level of ambiguity in the attraction between the protagonist and her love interest feels especially true to the queer experience of wondering if we're experiencing kind of real mutual attraction, or if we're only seeing things in our imagination - the way queerness is treated as something taboo, even when it's socially permissible, makes finding personal connections a delicate process of hope and guessing. It transforms the relationship elements of the movie seen through that specific lens, including moments where our protagonist is struggling so hard against herself that she tries to make her own sexuality vanish.

But it doesn't operate exclusively as a queer movie, and that's part of why there's just... just so much stuff to try and work through here. I feel like a huge amount of the underlying text of the movie rests on how her capabilities horrify her parents and prompt them to find ways to suppress them, to keep her under control. Additionally, the way she works her way through the medical system as they find themselves at a loss to discern any easy answers to her symptoms. And for that matter, the notion that her supernatural abilities are themselves something wrong with her is also rife with meaning to any disenfranchised group, not just queers or women or non-xians.

I suppose it's a little weird to discuss what I think the movie is about without bringing up... what the movie is about, but there's not a large amount that happens precisely. Or more directly the plot, unadorned, is not particularly complicated. Although I expect if you're hanging around this blog, you might be really interested to learn about a movie which is all about a young woman developing supernatural powers to control reality, and eventually breaking free from her oppressive (albeit loving) xian parents.

Not to sound pretentious, if this was made in the USA, it would be quite a bit more spectacle and flash. Thelma the movie and protagonist both are quiet revolutions, tense with knowing something extraordinary is happening, but not knowing how much will survive it. Some of it put me in mind of Dario Argento, even if it's not quite as flamboyant, there's an emotional intensity and an obsessive focus to the camera work that feels familiar. The colors are not quite as bright and primary as Argento's work, but they feel dense and saturated in the same way. If a movie like X-Men captures the explosive emotions and anger of learning you're different in some way society does not accept, Thelma captures its alternate quite despair and seething rage.

But this all really just gets maybe a little under the surface. I would happily translate the family losing a son to their daughters power as metaphoric to how some families treat their trans children. The ambiguity of the ending, the significance of the birds and snakes as metaphors, the use of symbolic reflections all need greater exploration to the point where this film has a fair thesis worth of material contained within. It's a rare, special, and complicated movie which I would hope everyone takes the time to see (with the exception of people with serious medical concerns over flashing lights, it has A LOT of those). Thelma is about making the decision to burn bright while everyone around you sits with quietly folded hands.

[flipspotglobal]

Ps5 For Sale – Find The Best Online Market To Buy Or Sale Gaming Laptops

The majority of people have one or two extra laptops lying around that they don't use anymore because technology is now available at such a low cost and in such wide use. If you like to play video games, you probably have an Alienware computer lying around your house that is just sitting there collecting dust. Even though Alienware laptops are known for going above and beyond in terms of design and performance, they will not last forever. The Alienware gaming laptop might be time to Sell gaming laptop online.

Ps5 for sale

For whatever reason, not everyone is comfortable selling their old stuff online. What other options do you have? Most of your friends probably have more recent equipment, so they would not want your older one. You might try advertising in the classifieds section of your neighborhood newspaper, but who does that anymore? That simply would not make sense for an outdated computer. The only option you have is to sell the Alienware gaming laptop online.

There are a few different ways to get paid for it. Most people are familiar with eBay, which generally performs as advertised. There, you can sell just about anything and be reasonably sure to get paid.

The issue is that during the selling process, you must create an account and keep track of bids, which is more work than some people want to do. You could also try selling the Alienware gaming laptop on Craigslist, but the likelihood of success there is significantly lower. Some have horrifying accounts of being robbed during such an exchange. There, you really can't be sure if you're dealing with an honest buyer.

Selling that laptop to a company that buys old machines is a much safer way to get rid of it. You would be dealing with a buyer who is putting its reputation at risk right away. You will almost certainly be pleased with your experience as a result of this. Second, a simplified procedure will be straightforward.

There will not be bidding wars on Ps5 for sale to navigate like on eBay, and it won't be a muddled mess like Craigslist. You only need to fill out a form that will give you an estimate of how much you will get, then send in your laptop, and you'll get the full amount for it when it arrives. Selling an Alienware gaming laptop is simple.

It will not be difficult at all to send it in. You will not have to worry about anything when you use the right website. In the end, all you will need to do is drop it off at a local UPS store. To sell the Alienware gaming laptop that you have lying around, you do not have to go through any hoops.

These auction websites have become extremely popular in recent years. Customers and business owners alike stand to benefit greatly from these websites. They also provide a platform where buyers and sellers can meet and compete for products of interest. It is not only convenient but also unquestionably cost-effective to bid on any of these auction websites. There are a plethora of product categories and subcategories offered by most of these auction portals, as well as an automated bidding system.

Online transactions between buyers and sellers are made possible by them. Modern e-marketplaces are safer for both bidders and product sellers thanks to the development of auction portals based on cutting-edge software solutions. Furthermore, good live auction portals always prioritize user-friendliness by emphasizing simple navigation. You can possibly make all your sales quickly at the most competitive rates ever as a person selling his products. Most of the time, sellers have complete control over the items that are up for auction, including those that fall under their listings and categories. If you want to demonstrate your sincerity and earn the buyers' trust, you might as well decide to make some of the crucial detail’s public.

[queenlucythevaliant]

Books to gush about: The Sparrow because I've never heard of it but have a long-running personal association with sparrows. Tell me about it!

And Emperor of All Maladies because I think my mom has it and I am curious as to your thoughts

If you're asking about The Sparrow because you are fond of birds, this may not be the book for you. The title merely refers to the God sees when a sparrow falls Scripture verse, not to actual sparrows. I would highly recommend it nevertheless. 

The Sparrow is a piercing book full of God and science, fear and wonder. To place it in the schema that's been floating around our little corner of Tumblr, it lies somewhere between the cosmic horror of H.P Lovecraft and the cosmic romance of C.S. Lewis's Space Trilogy. It is awful in both senses of the word: awful and full of awe. Yet unlike Lovecraft and Lewis, Russell does not write about invented cosmic beings of any sort; neither Cthulhu nor Maledil. Russell is an anthropologist by education and it shows. She writes about people and their baggage, about science and sci-fi technobabble, and about a society of aliens that is horrifying in the very banal way that many Godless human societies are horrifying. And then in the midst of it there’s God: our God, who is still sovereign.

Okay, hang on. Gotta back up. Premise:

When we were much younger, my sister and I got into a discussion about what the theological implications of intelligent extraterrestrial life would be. Our conclusion ended up being: Space Missionaries. We were both very excited about this.

We posed the question to our then-pastor a few weeks later. His response was something to the effect of, “well, the aliens wouldn’t be human so they wouldn’t be subject to the fall of man.” In essence, he took the Space Trilogy view of the question. 

The Sparrow sides with my sister and me. A group of Jesuit missionaries, along with a few others (an couple in their sixties, a doctor and an engineer, who are basically the mom and dad of the group; a Sephardi Jewish woman who’s been trapped in a kind of intellectual indentured servitude most of her life; an awkward-but-earnest radio telescope operator) go into space following the radio detection of singing coming from another planet. Only one man, Emilio Sandoz, comes back, physically, emotionally, and spiritually shattered from the experience. The story of the signal’s discovery, the journey to the planet, and what happens when they reach it is told in parallel with the story of Emilio’s recovery. It’s horrific. It’s beautiful. 

Here’s my favorite part, which I think gets at the very heart of why I love the novel:

"God knows," he [Emilio] said, and there was in his tone both an admission of defeat and a statement of faith.

"See, that’s where it falls apart for me!" Anne cried. "What sticks in my throat is that God gets the credit but never the blame. I just can’t swallow that kind of theological candy. Either God’s in charge or He’s not. What did you do when the babies died, Emilio?"

"I cried," he admitted. "I think sometimes that God needs us to cry His tears." There was a long silence. "And I tried to understand."

"And now? Do you understand?" There was, almost, a note of pleading in her voice. If he told her he did, she’d have believed him. Anne wished that someone could explain this to her and if anyone she knew could understand such things, it might be Emilio Sandoz. "Can you find any poetry in babies dying now?"

"No," he said at last. Then he added, "Not yet. Some poetry is tragic. It is perhaps harder to appreciate."

Anne stood then, tired, for it was the middle of the night, and she was about to go back to bed when she glanced back and saw a familiar look on his face. "What?" she demanded. "What!"

"Nothing." He shrugged, knowing his singular congregation very well. "Only: if this is all that is holding you back from faith, perhaps you should just go ahead and blame God whenever you think it’s appropriate."

Look: people who say that God does not cause (but only ever allows) suffering are deluding themselves. Yes, sin is responsible for the existence of SUFFERING, writ large. But what it comes down to is this: if God is sovereign, God is sovereign. Nothing in the world occurs but for the will of God. 

In The Sparrow, God quite clearly leads Emilio and the others to an alien planet. All while the signals are being discovered, the journey planned and undertaken, and even as it falls apart, there is one mantra repeated: God’s will. In Latin: Deus vult. It is repeated enough times that at one point, when disaster is averted, one character says "Okay, okay, Deus vult already!" The crew experience the utmost joy; they get to use their gifts and skills to God’s glory, such that Emilio at one point whispers, “God! I was born for this,” in utter, transcendent delight. 

Yet nearly everyone dies. Emilio’s recovery from his ordeal is slow and faltering, full of anger, doubt, spiritual anguish, and physical pain. He suffers from migraines, which resonated particularly strongly with me. He grieves.

God gets the credit and He gets the blame. The crew praises God when the mission runs smoothly. They give Him glory for the wonders they encounter. They can’t find poetry or understanding in the suffering. Some rail against God for bringing it upon them. They cry. The tears are their own, yet also, I think, they are God’s. 

The one thing I will say in (mild) criticism of this wonderful book: it is very Catholic and I am very Protestant and sometimes I just had to shake my head and sigh and mutter “... Catholics...” before moving on. I had some relatively small theological quibbles and in a few cases I just didn’t gel with where the narrative put its focus. Much is made of clerical celibacy, in particular. If you're as Protestant as I am, fair warning.

(I am being deliberately vague so as only to give the shape of the book. I don’t think I’ve spoiled anything that isn’t revealed in the first chapter or so. Hopefully those who have read it know what I mean.) 

This isn’t a book with easy answers. Rather, it tackles the problem of theodicy head on (and even uses the word theodicy, which I found quite exciting! You don’t often find such specificity in novels tackling this issue.) Sometimes, while reading, you feel as though there is great pit being carved very slowly in your stomach. Yet it is an honest book, and a beautiful one. It’s very human, while at the same time being utterly saturated in lofty thoughts of the Divine. 

[scarletnakazato]

Shingo Shoji - Rage Your Dream

• Shingo Shoji x Reader | Angst to Happy Ending | • Word Count: 4,144. • Synopsis: In which a traumatic experience, and life of an innocent girl, leads to her being saved by an unexpected racer who helps rebuild her life, getting rid of her fears and anxieties, which allows him to be seen in a whole new light.

➽───────────────❥

He found her in an alley.

She was lying on the ground, surrounded by three men who took such unnatural pleasure in beating on her. What did she do? She was only walking "home" from a job interview before they pulled her into the alley, and now here she was.

She was scared- no, she was horrified. What else would they do? Would anyone find her? Would they even help her? She was on the verge of going unconscious but wouldn't let herself pass out. She didn't want to wake up in a strange place.

She heard yet another car engine echo through the streets. Another person to simply drive past, unaware of what was happening, she assumed, as more tears flowed from her eyes. It drove just past the alley and out of sight before she barely heard a quick screech of the tyres and the engine idling.

Her hearing was starting to fail, and her mind growing fuzzier. The only thing she could strongly focus on was the men's twisted laughter at her pain.

And then it stopped.

She heard what she thought was a surprised sound from at least one of them before multiple thuds sounded, then it went quiet. She didn't feel anymore kicking, but rather someone gently picking her up, clearly mindful of her injuries. She tensed up for a moment before relaxing at the soft touch.

The girl couldn't see or hear who it was. Her consciousness was fading fast. This person didn't radiate a dark, dangerous aura like her beaters did; it was the opposite.

She could only lie limply in their arms as the person carried her somewhere. She felt herself being sat down in something; the position felt familiar. She felt a vibration from her left, something closed, maybe? The same thing happened on the other side, but a little further away. Then there was a vibration she could easily make out as a car's engine turning on.

She noted the car had a nice scent and a hint of tobacco before she finally passed out.

--------

She woke up in the hospital not long after her saviour brought her there. She looked at her right arm, seeing an IV line connected to it. She had bandages wrapped around herself in some areas and others had bandages patched on top of the cuts and bruises.

(Y/N) heard movement in front of her and quickly looked over, seeing a man with black hair that reached just below his ears, and was wearing a red hoodie. Was he the one who saved her?

"How are you feeling?" he asked lightly. She only nodded with a barely audible hum. She looked out the window, seeing it was still dark out. She found a clock on the wall and checked the time. It was eight-thirty. It's only been two hours.

"Do you have anyone you can stay with?" his sudden question made her jump. (Y/N) shook her head immediately. He noticed how she instantly paled and seemed scared at the question. She didn't have any parents to go home to; they died two years ago. She especially didn't want to go back to the hell she lived in at her "boyfriend's" apartment.

He was sadistic and controlling of every aspect of her life. He got rid of all her friends, not allowing her to have any new ones. She wasn't allowed to talk to others unless it was strictly for work, but she was fired because she wouldn't come in most days, due to him. He forced her to clean everything around his apartment. If she screwed up one little thing, he'd abuse her either verbally or physically, sometimes both, then proceed to lock her in her room. He controlled when she could be let out, and when and how much she got to eat. Everything. She wouldn't be surprised if he set up the alley incident.

"Do you want to stay with me, if you're comfortable enough?"

The girl thought about it for a minute. As of right now, she trusted him more than anyone else. He saved her from potentially being beaten to death, and took her to the hospital rather than taking her to his own place or somewhere else she would be scared to be at.

She nodded again. Normally, he would be annoyed by the fact someone wasn't giving him a direct answer, but he was different with her. He knew there was a reason she was too scared to speak. He'd let her take as much time as she needed to get over it and feel comfortable around him.

"I'm Shingo." He smiled lightly.

"(Y/N)..." her voice was a whisper, but he heard it just fine.

Shingo left later that night to let her rest and allow the doctor and nurses do what they needed to before he brought her home. He visited her each day for a few hours to help get her used to being around him and warm up to each other.

A nurse brought a notebook and pen for her to write on, seeing as she was more comfortable to communicate with that method. Shingo initiated most conversations and she either replied with head movements or wrote out her replies. She knew a good amount of Japanese but was fluent in English and tended to write most of her responses in it. Luckily, Shingo was also fluent and she was much more comfortable interacting with him that way.

She thought Shingo's voice sounded nice when he spoke English as well. They conversed for hours and (Y/N) relaxed fairly quickly around him. He didn't press on questions she didn't want to answer, instead switching to a different topic with ease. When she wrote a question asking about what he liked to do in his free time, he said he was a street racer that raced on mountain passes. He got into the topic very quickly and had a small sparkle in his eyes as he talked.

It was cute to say the least. He was like a child talking about his favourite toy or video game. She also found his hobby quite interesting, racing sounded fun. When he finished his very detailed explanation of nearly all aspects of racing, he asked what she liked to do.

You'd think it would be as easy to answer as he did, but she had a hard time coming up with one. She hadn't done anything fun in two years. She eventually wrote down she liked to draw on occasion and go to the beach.

Shingo was slowly piecing together what he thought made her so... nervous? Finicky? Whoever she's been around before he showed up had a negative influence on her daily life and left some kind of trauma.

When she was comfortable enough around Shingo a little over a week later, she was discharged from the hospital by the doctor. She waited at the entrance while Shingo went to his car. He pulled up next to her making it easier on her bad leg.

It was also comforting to know that the car held the same scent as the one from last week. A small detail, but comforting to know. What did he say the car was again? An EG6? It fit his type pretty well.

The ride was silent, but not awkward or tense. (Y/N) watched the scenery pass by and got scared for a minute as Shingo drove towards a familiar road but passed it, getting on the highway, and driving the opposite direction. She mentally sighed in relief, her worry washing away.

Shingo took an exit off the highway about thirty minutes later. She was wondering just how far his place was from where she lived- well, previously lived. She was happy to know it was quite a distance, it made her feel safer. He followed a series of roads until he pulled into an apartment complex that was a lot better than where she came from.

Shingo helped her out of the car and to the staircase, having her get on his back to carry her up the three flights of stairs. (Y/N) blushed, hiding her face in the back of his hoodie. It only made it worse. He smelled nice, whether it was his natural scent or a cologne, she liked it.

He set her down gently at the door then unlocked it, helping her in. She was settled on the couch, taking in the appearance of his apartment. The walls were the typical white colour, but most of them in the main room were covered in various Honda cars, especially EG6s and Mugen posters. He really loved his car, didn't he? She smiled slightly, this place was bright and filled with the passion of everything he likes.

The apartment she used to live in was blank, dull, and to her, who knew better, was the worst place imaginable. This was definitely a nice change. Shingo came back with food, handing her a plate as he sat down next to her. She gratefully took it and her eyes widened seeing how much was there. This was more than (Y/N)'s ever gotten in a day.

Her expression didn't go unnoticed. Shingo was getting closer and closer to figuring out this puzzle. If he ever finds out who treated her like an animal, there's going to be hell to pay.

(Y/N) ate happily, soon finishing everything and drinking all of her water. He looked her over, seeing she was much skinner and pale than she was supposed to be. How long had she been like this?

"You want more?" Shingo asked, motioning to his food. She shook her head lightly, "I'm not hungry anymore, thank you." Her voice was still low, but louder than it was at the hospital. He told her she was free to eat anything she wanted at any time, that there were no restrictions.

(Y/N) nodded, thanking him gratefully again. Things were looking better for her already.

"There's only one bedroom, so you can sleep in there with me or I can set up the couch for you, whichever you're more comfortable with. You can always change your mind." He said as he took the dishes and glasses.

"The couch would be great, thank you." She smiled lightly.

Shingo brought out multiple blankets and a couple soft pillows for later. He took her back out to get clothes, ignoring her small 'protests' of not wanting him to spend money on her. He easily countered them by saying, "You're not going to wear the same thing for who knows how long, are you?" and smirked in triumph when she knew he made a good point.

--------

(Y/N) spent the next few days getting accustomed to the apartment, still finding the new freedom strange, but great, nonetheless. She spent most of the day by herself while Shingo was at work, but when he'd get home they would often sit and talk for a while. (Y/N) was really warming up to him; he was always kind and patient with her, never getting angry with anything she did.

Shingo decided to get her out of the house to help get her comfortable around people without fear of punishment. Later that day, he took her out for dinner at a small restaurant he often goes to before or after his races.

She hadn't been to a restaurant in years.

"How come?" Shingo suddenly asked, an eyebrow raised in confusion. Her expression turned surprised; did she say that out loud?

"Oh, um... my "boyfriend," she said quietly and quoted with her fingers, "he wouldn't let me do anything after he kept me in his apartment for the last couple years." She said softly, looking around nervously.

'So, it is someone. Tch, what a pathetic piece of shit.'

(Y/N) had relaxed some when she didn't find who she was looking for and explained everything that happened during the last two years. The puzzle Shingo was piecing together over the last few weeks finally came together, and it all made sense. That bastard better pray to whatever god he believed in that Shingo doesn't find him.

--------

When they got back to his apartment, he carried her on his back from the car to the door on the top floor. Her leg was getting better, but Shingo insisted to carry her, so she didn't accidently strain it. She wasn't going to lie, she liked it. She had her arms wrapped over his shoulder and her hands lying loosely over his chest. She liked how it felt. She liked how strong his arms were, but also gentle with her. She liked how calming his scent was. Everything about him, she liked- no, loved.

(Y/N) loved Shingo.

Over the course of a month, he wanted to get her more accustomed to being able to do things freely. He worked on getting her out of her scared shell and to open up without fear of being hurt. She still wrote a large majority of her questions and replies in a notebook but was starting to speak more often.

She was still in the habit of cleaning the entire apartment every day, even though it was already clean, when Shingo went to work. She had done it continuously for so long that it's proven to be a difficult habit to break so far.

(Y/N) didn't hear Shingo unlock the door, open, shut it, and relock it while she was excessively cleaning the kitchen. He wasn't aware she didn't hear him and said "Hey" from behind her, scaring her that she ended up dropping a plate, the glass shattering across the floor. (Y/N)'s eyes widened and face paled as she whined quietly, backing herself into a corner, and curling up.

Shingo had knelt down to her level as he calmly moved towards her. She flinched instinctively and he stayed where he was, his hands open in front of him as a non-threating gesture. His expression held no anger as he lightly said things such as, "You're okay", "You're not in trouble", "I'm not gonna hurt you", and "I'm not angry."

(Y/N) relaxed after some coaxing and the silence of just being near him. Shingo never moved from his place and only made slow movements if he went to adjust his sitting position. She was eventually sat on the couch as he cleaned up the broken shards.

Throughout the rest of several more weeks, things progressed well. No other incident had occurred, and Shingo had teasingly suggested that she could help him wash his car if she wanted to clean something so badly. She found it quite enjoyable, relaxing, and satisfying. As she was hosing off the soap, she quickly redirected the water at Shingo before moving it back to the car. He let out a surprised yelp at the cold water and gave her a look that said, 'Really?' She giggled and that was the first time Shingo had ever heard her laugh.

As adorable as he thought it sounded, he was still getting his revenge. He ended up getting her back with the hose when she set it down to wash another part of the car. By the end of their water fight, they had been completely soaked. It was almost like they got more water on them than the car did.

As (Y/N) cleaned one of the wheels, Shingo knelt down next to her on her left. She looked over, curious as to what he was doing, and froze when his lips met hers for a quick peck. She blinked a few times and he said, "You're adorable", making her blush heavily. When he saw no sign of anxiety or fear, but rather a smile creeping onto her features, he leaned in again.

When their lips met, she melted easily into the kisses. His were gentle, not crossing any lines. He tilted his head slightly, bringing his hand to the side of her face, lightly rubbing her cheek several times before his hand rested at the back of her neck.

They pulled away for air a few moments later. Shingo looked into her eyes asking, "I'm not pushing it, am I?"

"Not at all," she shook her head, "I-I liked it." She lightly stuttered, her cheeks turning pink again.

He smiled, giving her one more peck, but on the cheek this time. He told her she could go inside and take a shower, that he'd finish up with the wheels. By the time she finished and walked out of the bathroom door, Shingo had just gotten inside. After he showered, (Y/N) had food on the little table in front of the couch. She lightly patted the spot next to her and he joined her.

As the hours passed, the two kept themselves occupied with watching TV, to (Y/N) reading a manga series about street racing, and Shingo looking through his car magazines. Any time she came across a sentence in the manga she didn't understand, she asked Shingo what it said. She found it cute how he muttered it in Japanese before saying the translation in English.

--------

After they did their nightly routine Shingo was pleasantly surprised to see (Y/N) sitting on the edge of his bed. She sheepishly asked if she could sleep there for the night. He told her she could for as long as she wanted, to which she smiled and thanked him, scurrying under the covers happily.

A few minutes after Shingo got in bed, she moved closer until she was cuddled up to him, her arms resting between their chests, and her head just below his. It took him a good minute to process it before humming and wrapping an arm over her side.

He never thought he'd be so content with having a girl, he'd only known for about three months, live with him, let alone sleep with him. There was something about her, he thought, that he just really liked. Was it her shyness or appearance? Or the fact he found her in such a bad predicament, which led him to be so protective over her?

Either way, he knew at this point that he loved her. Helping her get over her anxieties, unintentional bad habits, and getting her comfortable to talking around other people again only brought them closer. If she were anyone else, he'd most likely just ignore them or say, "Do it yourself." Everyone who knows Shingo, knows he doesn't have much of a patience to begin with, but he's been the exact opposite with (Y/N).

He may act like a bitter guy on the outside, but he's definitely a huge softie on the inside.

--------

(Y/N)'s progress had suddenly advanced greatly after her ex was found and arrested. He was also responsible for her parent's deaths and she was given the option to press charges, which (Y/N) immediately did. Her parent's will had been found in his apartment and she was given everything they wanted her to have, including their financial savings. When it was all over and done with, she felt like she didn't have to look over her shoulder in constant paranoia anymore.

Shingo was happy to see her suddenly become talkative and excited to go out places again. They spent more time out of the house, Shingo driving her anywhere she wanted to go to or see. She was ecstatic to see the beach after so long.

It had been nearly a year since Shingo found her. With his patience and her strong will, she was back to being herself again. (Y/N) got a good paying part time job and had been thinking of going to college to pursue her dream career. The money her parents had left was more than enough to pay for all of her classes and she could buy herself a car.

Shingo's love for cars had rubbed off on her and he was constantly suggesting that she should get a civic because "Nothing is better than v-tec and driving in the red zone." She would roll her eyes with a smile and remind him she wasn't going to be racing.

He would only shrug and say his suggestion still stands, going back to what he was doing. When she had doubts of college, Shingo told her she had time to think about it, but don't pass up her dream simply because of a second thought. "You'll do just fine," he would say, giving her a nudge on the shoulder.

He knew when she was determined to do something, she wouldn't stop until she was finished. All she needed was that little push to get her into it. Eventually, she was admitted into a high-ranking college that was in downtown Shibukawa.

They went out to a restaurant to celebrate and surprisingly, Shingo is an absolute lightweight when it comes to drinking. After his third beer, he could barely stand. (Y/N) giggled when he would mumble random gibberish with his face completely flustered. It was extremely adorable. (Y/N) decided it was time to leave when he was having trouble keeping himself awake. She helped him to the car, which was pretty difficult, but hilarious.

This would be the first time she's ever driven his car. She always wondered what it would be like. She turned it on and released the handbrake, putting it in gear. Just as the car was about to move it forward it jolted and shut off.

Shingo started chuckling.

"Hush, you. It's been a while." (Y/N) huffed and turned the car back on. She successfully moved it forward on the second try and the rest of the shifting went naturally. When they were halfway home, Shingo half-consciously mumbled, "You're fucking hot driving my car," (Y/N) looked over with a surprised expression before looking back at the road, "when you're not stalling it at least." He lightly chuckled again and turned his head forward, most likely falling asleep for the- what, seventh time?

She smiled and rolled her eyes, turning down several more roads until they reached their apartment. (Y/N) parked the Honda in its usual spot. Now it was time to try and get Shingo's heavy ass up three flights of stairs.

She nudged him awake and he groaned. "C'mon Shin, we're home." (Y/N) unbuckled the harness and helped him out. She locked the car and quickly made her way back to him. Shingo was leaning forward against the side of the car with his forehead pressed again the edge of the roof. She was quite sure he was trying to fall asleep again.

(Y/N) wrapped her arms around his waist and nudged him towards her. He hummed lowly and leaned against her instead, walking as best he could. Shingo made it up the stairs and through the door surprisingly well. She helped him down the hallway, but he ended up turning too early and ran into the wall. He gave a short, "Ow", his tone sounding like he was almost offended. (Y/N) couldn't help but laugh lightly as she got him around the corner and to the bed properly, where she let him fall onto it.

He sighed contently and (Y/N) changed clothes before she joined him. Shingo pulled her to him, his arms wrapped around her side with her head on his chest. The smell of her hair quickly lulled him to sleep, (Y/N) falling asleep not long after.

--------

"Is anyone else seeing this?" Takeshi asked in pure disbelief.

The rest of the NightKids nodded, adding in a small, "Yep", "Yeah", and "Mhmm" as a response.

"It's almost scary." One of them piped up.

"Who knew he was capable of that?" another guy said.

They all watched in disbelief and amazement as Shingo was leaning against the side of his car holding (Y/N) around the waist with both arms as she leaned against him, a smile on her face. He gave her multiple kisses on her head, cheek, and lips when she looked up. He didn't even pay attention to his team staring at him and his girlfriend with wide eyes.

She wanted to see a street race from the starting line now that she was comfortable around people again. All of the other times, they watched from an empty corner of the pass. This was the first time anyone from the NightKids had seen (Y/N), let alone heard of her. The team, especially Takeshi, were starting to wonder why he seemed nicer than usual throughout the last few months.

He still had his sarcastic attitude, but it just wasn't as... prominent as it used to be. Now they all saw why. Their next question was, what the girl saw in Shingo. Whatever it may be, Takeshi was just grateful that he hadn't been given a headache from Shingo's bullshit in a long time, and most importantly...

She can keep him.

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter six - “lake, the sequel”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.7k

synopsis: reader seeks out bucky after his dramatic exit and they find themselves earnestly conversing... back at the lake

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: this story is available on my wattpad as a bucky x OC fic @ / typicaldaze :)

He didn't like this feeling. No, he didn't like this feeling at all. He hated it, in fact. It was betrayal, bodily betrayal. He just could not sit in that room any longer or he would've peeled his skin off. His lungs felt as if they were bound with barbed wire and the state of his stomach had him worried he was going to throw up. Most of all he felt guilty. How could he have just stormed out of the room like that? She was going to hate him now. How could he let this happen?

He was thinking this over whilst sitting at the lake, hands in the grass, trying to distract the physical body from the mental cacophony he had just endured. He had somehow found his way there after leaving Y/N. These extremely unpleasant sensations were unfamiliar. Was he sick? Could he have been drugged? He was so confused. Bucky realized he seemed to be confused most of the time. Following that realization, he became mildly pissed off.

The super soldier stared out at the lake. It was a calm day, the water tranquil and clear. It was a stark contrast against his stress. He leaned forward and looked into the water at his reflection.

"Damn," he said out loud.

Is that really what I look like now?

His eyes traced over the long shaggy hair, dark under eyes, and the subtle but noticeable worry lines. This sight reminded him of when he broke the mirror at his old place in Bucharest. Now he remembered why. God, he looked as fucked up as he was. He leaned back and tossed a stone at where his reflection had been.

A deep sigh left his lungs, which were now conveniently working properly.

"Fuckers," he muttered, referring to the mercurial organs.

He had spent nearly two years alone in Bucharest, and he had grown accustomed to living in this new body. He was always on edge, that much he could tell. However, he was never too introspective; he never thought about his feelings or his behavior. All he was focused on was surviving. When there is more to life than survival, that's when things get complicated... not that they weren't complicated before. God, he was running in circles inside his own mind. His scarred and ruined and manipulated mind that resided in this body that was used as a tool for destruction and violence and death-

"Hey."

His head whipped around, startled out of his thought frenzy. Always on edge. Mentally, he shook his head in disappointment.

"Oh! (Y/N)!"

He stood up immediately. "Listen, I'm so sorry about before, I don't know what-"

"It's okay," she said quickly, holding up her hands. "Bucky, you do not need to apologize, everything is totally fine."

He was taken aback. Words didn't seem to work.

"I'm not mad if that's what you were thinking," she said.

"You're not?"

"No, of course not. If anything I was worried."

"I- Worried?"

"Yes, you were clearly in distress, and that room was the last place you wanted to be. I'm glad you found your way back here because you look much better now," (Y/N) explained with earnest eyes.

She could tell he was freaked out? She probably thinks he's insane.

"Yeah, I... I think I'm better now."

He was far from okay, but definitely better than before.

The psychologist sat down next to where he was standing. He didn't move, but looked down at her.

"I don't think it'd be wise to leave you alone here considering you're supposed to be in a session with me right now and you can't go anywhere without an escort. It would most likely lead to suspicion and then trouble you don't need. I'm going to stay with you. We can continue the session if you'd like, but if not we can just sit."

She said this all while looking straight forward at the water.

In all honesty he wasn't sure what to say, so he settled with a breathy, "Okay," before sitting down next to her.

"I'm getting the vibe that this is more of a just sit situation..."

"Yeah... I think I'm all therapy-ed out for today," Bucky said in a meek attempt at a joke.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a wide smile. He then realized that she didn't know he could see it, and that's why this smile seemed different. Most differents in Bucky's life hadn't been outstandingly pleasant. But this was a welcome different. This was a good different. It was genuine and unbridled. That was the most open he'd ever seen her.

Every now and then he forgot that he was a literal trained super spy. He may not have any PhD's, but he had his own way of reading behavior, cues, and subtleties. Perhaps he'd make an effort to be more observant. Perhaps he wanted to learn a little more about what else was behind this new different.

A few beats of comfortable silence passed before he heard the word again.

"Hey," (Y/N) started softly. "I'm sorry if I went a little too far today. I know I said our first session wouldn't be much, but I realize I was pushing too far."

"Oh, it's okay," Bucky replied, looking down at the grass between his knees. "I think it's more my fault anyway. It's not like the questions were super intense."

He let out a loaded sigh. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Bucky it's really okay. If it's anyone's fault it's mine. This whole process is supposed to be based on your comfort levels and at your own pace. And there's nothing wrong with you. Your reaction was completely normal given the circumstances."

Bucky wasn't terribly familiar with reassurance. He turned his head, looking at her dead on. She was so genuine, like she knew all of what she was saying was the all encompassing truth.

Echoes of different combinations of "there's nothing wrong with you" and "completely normal" and "your own pace" flitted around inside him until they melted into a feeling he hadn't felt in so long: hope. It was horrifying... yet it gave him a kind of relief he didn't know he could feel.

The super soldier then realized that (Y/N) was looking right back at him dead on. He was about to stumble through some sort of apology for staring or thankful expression for her kindness, but he noticed that she didn't look like she was necessarily waiting for a response. She was just... looking.

Bucky tried to say something, anything. But he just couldn't seem to pull his eyes away. In this brief moment, he felt crystallized. His conscious, logical brain was somewhere far away, hypnotized by the stillness of the moment. It was only a few seconds, but somehow felt longer. These very few seconds of mental sedation were soon over.

Speak, idiot.

He snapped back to reality, suddenly finding himself inspecting at the grass below him.

"Thank you."

"Of course," she replied without missing a beat. Her tone of voice was water soft.

"(Y/N), do you... do you know what happened with me earlier?" he asked, cautiously. "Like, what was wrong- I mean, not wrong but why I-"

He sighed frustratingly, cutting himself off.

Her face was patient, but she was waiting for a description of something he didn't know how to describe.

"I know I said we were done for today, but I-I don't know how to explain it, and I want to know what it is," he confessed.

"I think you had an anxiety attack."

Anxiety? That couldn't be right. There's no way that could've been from being nervous.

"What?" he asked incredulously.

"Anxiety. It seemed as though you were experiencing high amounts of anxiety. Most people get nervous at times, but those tiny amounts are normal. But, some other people are a lot more nervous a lot more of the time. Sometimes, these peoples' anxiety can get particularly high and be so overwhelming that their body kinda takes over, and they can experience really uncomfortable physical symptoms, and this can turn into an anxiety attack."

"I thought I was... sick or... or drugged or something."

"Well, I'm almost certain you weren't drugged, and I'm pretty sure you can't even get sick."

"Oh."

He honestly didn't know what to say.

"Bucky," she looked straight at him again and he almost felt himself slipping. "In terms of psychology, a lot has progressed since the 40's. I'm not sure how anxiety was presented or studied then, but there's really a lot more to it than people think. And honestly, given your situation, it would be strange if you didn't develop an anxiety disorder."

Anxiety disorder?

"Anxiety disorder? I have that?"

"Well, again, I think we have to do more work to confirm, but that's what it seems like."

"I thought you said I had PTSD?"

"I do. I think you have both."

Christ.

"Wow, I'm a whole sack 'a problems, aren't I?" he chuckled, giving up on trying to internally oppose his short comings.

"You're not a problem, Buck. You had to deal with a whole sack of problems, though," she smiled.

The nickname didn't miss his radar. Was that the first time she's called him that? He ignored how he liked it.

"That's for damn sure."

They conversed for a while after that, and didn't seem to notice how late it was until the sun began to set. The ending day's reflection on the water created an aura so relaxing Bucky didn't want to move. But alas, reality calls.

(Y/N) stood up. "If you're not back soon, they'll start looking for you. We should probably get going."

Bucky stood up, too, following her request.

"I'll walk you back to your quarters," she offered.

And so they went, conversation continuing naturally, as if they were old friends. Bucky found it strange that someone he knew so little was so easy to talk to. He brushed it off as some inherent therapist quality.

He still found her hard to read although he knew her more with each passing word between them.

Despite all of this, the walk back, with cool air, a melting sky, and languid steps, was the best thing he had experienced since coming out of cryo. His memory may be spotty, and his mind may be rough, but this, this he was sure of.

[deleteddewewted]

Incel!Shinsou Oneshot: "Why are you acting like that?”

To keep busy I just thought that a oneshot of Shinsou getting self conscious/needy would be cute since we already have his redemption arc rolling in. The next part of the Incel!Shinsou series (Part 3) will have him proving his worth at the Sports Festival. So in thinking of how he will prove himself to you I thought of how will all of those people affect him, especially you. ( This oneshot takes place pre changes, so Shinsou is still his disgusting self but he's figuring out how to woo a woman, especially of your caliber.)

Incel!Shinsou Series:

Part 1: Incel! Shinsou x F!Reader

Part 2: Incel! Shinsou x F!Reader

Incel!Shinsou Headcanons

"I know what you're doin' here. Made your intentions clear. Oh you, you terrible thing, you. Terrible thing, you. Terrible thing, you. Beautiful thing"

TW: Strong Language, Mild Sexism

People were never an obstacle when it came to the things Shinsou wanted. He’s aware that others would do anything for him if he played his cards right. The right words with the right question did wonders for him. So why the fuck couldn’t he have what he wanted when it came to you? You drove him up the wall with the kindness you showed him. He didn’t deserve it and you’re existence almost felt like a punishment from whatever deity that existed out there to make him suffer. You guys were suppose to be studying for your upcoming project that required a poster, a slide show, and one influential person that would help prove your projects point. You left him running circles within his own mind as to how you were so willing to challenge him. He wanted you to obey him not see through his bullshit. It wasn’t like you didn’t listen to him vent, or didn't give him attention, but he wanted to hold you under his control. To be the person you listened to.

In class you where both seated on the extreme ends of the room on opposite sides. You never realized this (you do), but his head would periodically turn towards your direction to look at you, to figure you out (liar). This time, you managed to catch him do it.

“What are you doing?” You asked plainly. You honestly didn’t care that he was staring, everyone does when you dress like you're attending an MCR concert in the middle of autumn.

“You look different....today.”

“Nice.” It was difficult to care. Shinsou was just some guy in your class that you had to deal with. Nothing special really....ok, maybe it wasn’t fully true. You didn’t really know him all that well or anything (Unless it was mocking and belittling everything you did, that was normal behavior for him so it wasn’t surprising to find out he was like that outside of campus.) but he wasn’t all that bad? If he cared for himself a bit more, hygiene wise he would be considered handsome or at least a competent human being (you weren't going to call him a man, men don't act this childish. At least the ones you knew.) Maybe then you would take his opinion seriously, but for now you’ll ignore his...interesting comments he's been throwing towards you today.

“It’s rude to ignore someone when their talking to you, you know?” The neutral face he had now possessed a frown and a furrow to his brows. You still couldn’t process how he took the time to make sure his hair stayed purple but didn’t care for his body odor. (This man dyes his hair purple yet cant bother to shower or use deodorant for once in his life.)

“I’m not ignoring you, I’m just not interested in anything you have to say.” With that you get up and take your things and leave. There was no point in wasting time on someone who couldn’t even look at you directly and had to also sneak glances at you. "Do I really look that unbearable?" you thought to yourself. In the end you didn’t care anymore, everyone was entitled to an opinion and the last thing you need is feeling self conscious because of your out of place classmate.

Shinsou was fuming. How the fuck did you just get up and leave his ass while he was trying to complement you. You should have been more appreciative that he was giving you his attention for once. A bitch like you wasn't even worth it so he doesn't understand why he even tried with you.

He never goes directly home after school but instead to the local theater. It was one of the few places where he could be around others and could genuinely be himself. It was weird, he didn't feel like himself when he was speaking with his "friends", friends that he's never spoken to verbally, never seen, and never would meet. He knew that he didn't deserve this, to have a safe haven when he acts like an ass, yet here he was.

"Good morning Shinsou! How are you? Are you ready for rehearsals? You did remember to read your lines, right?" Shinsou rolls his eyes at his theater mates antics. Monoma never seems to stop but he does know when to tone it down and when it comes to Shinsou he tones it down a bit. (Because Monoma is canonically considerate of others, look back the Sports Festival and the Joint Training Arc.)

"Im good man, yes i did read and memorized the script, dont worry about it." What an odd friendship, the most chaotic gentleman like man out the bunch with the quietist incel in the group. Shinsou should have seen it coming when he was adopted by Monoma but he's running on 2 to 4 hours of sleep so he doesn't really care.

Believe it or not Shinsou does take showers (only for theater) but very quickly and with no care (no shampoo or soap, fucking why man.) Theater means more to him and so making his character look the best they possible can was his first and foremost priority. He puts on his costume, gets to makeup (the minimum, because it's "gay" for him to wear makeup and since the world is unfair and cruel he has perfect skin for a greasy headed asshole.)

"Everyone get a move on! Kodai, Tsuburaba, and Awase! Go to stage left! Light techs, how's it up there?" One of the tech heads shouted out. Shinsou and Monoma got to their positions on the stage and the rehearsals began.

Love, the play was about love. Love that wasn't rejected but also not accepted. He didn't understand the concept fully. Was it romantic? Platonic? Familiar? Admiration? He loved his dad, but he mostly admired him. He worked long hours and middle resents him for not being there for him, yet he realizes that his dad works to give him the world, a home with all the things he wanted. He never had a mother so he never had parental or familiar, again his dad was there but he wanted a parent that would hold him when he came back from school everyday. He didn't have a girlfriend, so he doesn't know romantic. So far all of his characters where villains, or evil in some way. He was starting to get sick of them. Shinsou wanted something more, wanted to play a character that wasn't how everyone saw him as on his day to day life. He wanted a challenge, he wanted....affection. Just to show it. He wanted attraction. Just to abuse it. He wanted...love. To just...maybe...feel...enjoy...understand it.

"You terrible thing you. My love, you're so cold. You've left me hanging on every one of your words. You've made me loose my self, lose my self-control because of you!" He pours everything into his performance, his loneliness, his regrets, his experience. He's been told by his co-performers and directors that he has a great future in the arts, in theater. If he just took care of himself more he would be an amazing actor, not only incredibly talented but also attractive. He would have the world kneeling, bowing to him just from his words alone. He could have anything he wanted just because of his existence.

" You've made me do things i don't want to do...for you." Kodai stands there looking horrified. He's covered in blood, the blood of her lover, the one she left him for.

"No, i-i didn't-"

"YOU MADE ME-MADE DO THIS FOR YOU! You terrible, terrible, terrible thing! You beautiful thing, I've done this for you!...and you still cant and won't love me." He doesn't see Kodai anymore. It's not her face he sees, nor her voice that he hears.

Its you...its your voice. You. You looking back at him while he slowly lowered himself to kneel and crawl towards you. It's you who backs away from him as he starts to cry and hiccup.

"You wreck me, you made me. You leave me in your wake, please let me go!" He sees you and feels you grabbing his wrists back, pushing him into himself.

"Don't you ever let me go...."

You terrible beautiful thing, you.

And here we are again. This was a lot fun to write since it feels more concrete when it comes towards his personality and his full thought process. In many cases people like Shinsou just want attention or some sense of validation, which there is nothing wrong with wanting those things but it's more about the manner you go about it. You shouldn't pressure or force others to spend time with you, but there is always someone out there that will like to give you those things.

Tag list: @blossominglark

[azazelsconfessional]

What are your thoughts on the seraphim? The highest rank of angels? Those that guard and protect Yahweh's very throne? I heard they are the only angel that can with stand his Light and so are used as guards for his throne. I also heard they're called "the burning ones" too. Theyre my favorite class of angels, my second favorite are the "thrones". They are.. Horrifying to say the lease. They seem more like they come from the old one's world more so than Eden. An Eldrich horror just like nyarl.

Anyways yeah, seraphim are cool.

(Also for Mun, I kinda have a seraphim angel oc. Would you care if I roleplayed her any?)

((You can rp whatever you like! o/ Of course I'll warn you in advance that Azazel may not like her much depending on her character, as he tends to dislike/be somewhat hostile towards anyone who sides with Eden lol but you're welcome to interact with him either way. I'd appreciate if you had a profile somewhere I could go over, and I'll also warn that I'm a bit slow with tags with OCs, just because I'm less familiar with them and their alignment with the source material and there's some idk resolving with that? But I'm cool with it, you don't need my permission!))

Azazel seems amused by your fondness.

He doesn't particularly agree with it in any capacity, but that's his business.

"Seraphim are a type of angel, certainly. They seem to have little to no mind outside of professing their faith and following orders--though, I suppose one could say that about most angels." A scathing review, although perhaps it's to be expected. "As you say, they are fiery angels who are closest to the Almighty. Michael and Shaytan were Seraphim--you'll find that 12-winged angels generally are.

"Seraphim without other responsibilities whom are Seraphim alone have six wings. Thus why Michael and Shaytan have twelve.” That’s how he always understood it anyway.

"If they could stand God's light, they probably wouldn't cover their faces all the time, however they claim it's simply out of respect. Nonetheless, most Seraphim are more like the cooing lapdogs of the Almighty. I doubt most have actual combat experience, as they very scarcely engage areas of existence below God and themselves, so I question their worth as actual guards." He's fought more battles than your average Seraphim at God's throne. And he's a lover, not a fighter.

"Thrones do have a tendency to disturb and horrify those who encounter them, even among angels." Says the goat therian who's a giant snake with two faces per his seven heads. "However, even moreso than Seraphim, one rarely finds them outside of Yahweh's office throne room. Seraphim are enlightened compared to Thrones, which are peaceful, mindless beings who enjoy being sat on by God in particular, and carting the Almighty around in the unlikely event there's somewhere to go. If we're comparing them to Old Ones, perhaps they'd be more like large D-Evils?"

He can't really be mad at Thrones. He's almost certain that they, unlike most everything else in Eden, never ate from the Tree Of Knowledge. They don't have much going on in their heads. Even comparing them to D-Evils is generous--D-Evils, at least, have minds like young children. Thrones. . .he’s not even certain that could be said of them.

In fact, seeing them is what made him worry over the first humans' being denied fruit from it in the first place. He didn’t want such mindlessness to overcome something so beautiful.

[ckret2]

idk if someone actually finally sent this ask but i'mma do it since it seems people are dancing around it: if you're comfortable with it, may we have some radiosnake sexual headcanons (wherein alastor is not sexually repulsed or is demisexual/grey-ace ofc)?? love, a very happy demisexual who just finished a cold day in hell literally two minutes ago

You win the prize for "actually has the courage to directly ask for sexual headcanons" because no, nobody else has asked yet. Sorry for taking so long to answer it but like... the answer is over 2000 words. Have fun.

Now, anon, I've got something important you should know.

When I brainstorm radiosnake stuff, there's a little chatroom I do it in. What happens is, a lot of times, I'll come up with a scene or a scenario or a plot arc, and I'll describe it to that chat. And then, every once in a while, I'll say, "... and then here's how that same thing goes over in the parallel universe where Alastor Fucks." I have. A looot of little ideas set in the parallel universe where Alastor Fucks.

(He's still somewhere on the ace spectrum in all those ideas—either he's demi or else he's sex-neutral/sex-positive ace, depending on the idea—but he does Fuck.)

However, 1) a majority of these ideas are very clearly set specifically in CDIH's verse, and so I don't wanna share them as broad "radiosnake headcanons" when they're tied to one specific fanfic; and 2) a lot of them are angsty, and if you're asking for general headcanons then I'm assuming what you probably want is them actually having a good time rather than several decades of self-induced suffering over unrequited desire. So if you want CDIH-specific stuff and/or angsty stuff (or, more likely, CDIH-specific angsty stuff), hit me up again and I'll share some more stuff. For now, I'll talk about more general non-angsty headcanons.

Okay so most of this answer is geared toward Alastor's perspective since it's like, it's the more interesting one to me in this context, he's the one gradually figuring stuff out while Sir Pent's hanging out being allo with over a century of having his sexuality sorted out.

So that you know what kinda headcanons I'm rolling with here: there's, like, several ways I can conceptualize Alastor's orientation in my head, and they're sorta ranked by how "true" they are to me. Not "true" as in "how canon I think they are," but "true" as in, like, what Feels the Most Right to me.

The #1 Most True version of Alastor in my head is 100% ace/aro. He's not "repulsed" by sex (or romance, for that matter) in the sense of "disgusted/horrified/never ever wants to hear about it," but he, like, has absolutely zero interest in DOING it. He's not repulsed by the subject but he is by most touch, including the kind of touching necessary for sex. Might have some, like, academic curiosity about sex & romance, might enjoy it in a fictional context simply for the drama it adds to a story, but has no desire to be a participant. He can listen to a friend talk about their sexual escapades in graphic detail for an hour without an ounce of discomfort but if they offer him a quick peck on the lips he goes "I'm out." He might have sex Once just to see what it's like/just to say he has and that’s where his curiosity ends.

So that's my mental Most True Version Of Alastor.

The SECOND most true version of Alastor is like, the exact same as that, except he's just barely demiromantic enough that he might, once, fall in love. The odds of him falling in love are the same as someone's odds of winning the lottery. This is the version of Alastor I use in CDIH and other radiosnake fics, where Sir Pentious happens to have been lucky enough to win the lottery, but also, it took fifteen years before it happened. Alastor's feelings about touch & sex are the same, EXCEPT that whoever he loves is excluded from the Touch Is Unpleasant rule, which opens up a few more possibilities.

And I've got more mental versions of Alastor but that's as far as we need to go to be relevant to this post.

So given the above: Alastor's natural internal pool of Enjoyable Physical Activities that he would be autonomously inclined to want to try with Sir Pentious is broader than "nothing at all" but stops short of actual sex. More like sensual activities.

The not-necessarily-sexual sensual things that are obviously & immediately available on Alastor’s Selectable Menu Of Romantic Physical Activities are gonna be things like:

--Cuddles! We're starting as vanilla as possible, folks. Cuddling and sleeping in bed together. 95% naked cuddles are acceptable, although Alastor is inclined to keep his underpants on. Moving to "underpants" from "underpants AND undershirt" is a Notable Intimacy Milestone for him because like Back In His Day undershirts were part of the required underwear, so to him that's taking off 50% of his underwear. It's like switching from loose boxers to a thong. On the other hand Sir Pent is just, totally nude, because look at him he already isn't wearing any pants, he's got nothing to hide.

--Massage! Neither one of them is any sort of professional but tbh on a scale of 1 to 10 a massage can be as bad as a 3 and still be enjoyable y'know? Alastor tends to offer if he notices Sir Pent is sore and/or if Alastor has decided he's gonna be in Extreme Over-The-Top Performatively* Romantic Mode tonight. He always sort of forgets that the option of being massaged exists until Sir Pent offers it in return, because, like, he thinks of himself as a floating radio voice with an inconvenient meat puppet attached, sometimes he forgets that the meat puppet can be pampered too. And then he sits there in a blissed-out daze while Sir Pent goes holy crap your shoulders are like oak, how have you not snapped your own spine with tension yet.

(*Note here when I say Alastor can get "performatively" romantic I don't mean "going through the motions but isn't feeling the love"; I mean that, like, basically NO romantic gestures come naturally to him because he just isn't feeling the gestures even though he's definitely feeling the love. He's sort of figuring out How To Perform Romance As An Action by drawing on how he's seen it done in books/movies/etc. and picking & choosing the things that seem most fun to him to do. So in a sense he is performing a role that he's conscious of when he interacts with Sir Pent romantically, but that's because "performing a role" is how Mr. Perpetual Radio Host approaches all of life—and he's only performing this one because he genuinely wants to and because he's enjoying it.)

--Body worship! Alastor is really deeply squicked out by touching someone's skin/hair/fur but on the other hand (and maybe specifically because it avoids the squick) he is really deeply fascinated by Sir Pentious's scales, which feel Not At All Like Mammal Skin. He also still does the "??? oh right, I have a body too" thing when Sir Pent returns the attention—but Alastor's like, okay, I’m obviously more familiar with my own body than Sir Pent is, I don’t find my body that interesting but it must still be interesting to Sir Pent.

--Showering together! Sir Pent has figured out that if he starts singing in the shower there is a 99% chance that Alastor will trip over his own pants trying to simultaneously strip down and run to the bathroom so that he can join in on SHOWER DUET TIME. Frankly it's a lot safer to just go "hey I'm about to take a shower, wanna join?" but sometimes he doesn't just to see how fast Alastor shows up.

--Kissing! Making out is completely and always an option. Three of Alastor's most defining character traits are being a radio host (which kind of reduces a person to their voice), his perpetual smile, and his cannibalism. Like 80% of this dude's existence revolves around his mouth. He's absolutely got some kind of oral fixation. He gets into making out—as long as it's with the right person. There is exactly one right person. Sir Pent is okay with this.

Other enjoyable mouth activities:

- Kissing places other than the mouth

- Being kissed in places other than the mouth

- Biting

- Being bitten

And there's the overall list of non-sexual sensual activities that Alastor is into!

... And then eventually at some point Sir Pent is like "no pressure but hhhhypothetically sssspeaking are there possibly any sexual activities you might be interested in trying out" and Alastor is like "What? Oh! Right! Actually forgot sex existed for a bit. Yeah sure fine let’s try it." And that's the point at which they start experimenting with activities beyond Alastor's default activities!

Despite just about everything else with mouths being good, things Alastor is NOT into:

- Blowjobs

They did try. It seemed like a logical starting point. Alastor was like "I've liked putting my mouth everywhere else on this snake, it stands to reason I'll like putting it there too!" He got himself psyched up. He faced down The Dicks. He went, hmm. He stuck his tongue out and poked one.

He went "Yeah this isn't happening."

And Sir Pent went "Honestly you've already surpassed my wildest dreams just by getting that far."

They tried it the other way around too and Alastor went "Yyyye... hmmm... nnnnnooo no, no, don't think so. Not into that at all."

And it took him all of five seconds to reject the mere possibility of ever trying rimming, and the only reason it took that long to reject is because first Sir Pent had to explain what that is.

But everything else with mouths is great! Like. Everything. Sir Pent could go "can you lick my eyeball" and Alastor would go "which one? :)" (Sir Pent would probably not ask for this. But the point is he could.)

Figuring out Alastor's acceptable/enjoyable sex acts was a lot of experimentation like the above with BJs. And what they figured out is: he doesn't want his junk touched. Like. At all. In any context. Which, you know, understandably cuts down on nearly all the sexual options out there. But that’s the hard line: no touching his dick and no touching his butthole. Even if he, like, actively has a raging boner.

(Fun fact that I actually had to do research on, because despite being ace I did not know this due to the fact that I don't have a dick: if you are ace and have a dick there's good odds you'll still pop a boner in sexual situations, even if you have zero interest in what you’re looking at or participating in it. It's like something in your crotch goes "oh! Oh! A naked butt! I know what to do here! We got training for this! Time to ready the cannon!" and something in your brain goes "why the hell are you readying the cannon, we are absolutely not going to use the cannon, the cannon is a major inconvenience here" and the something in your crotch goes "listen, pal, I'm just following my orders. I don't tell you how to do your job, don't tell me how to do mine." The tl;dr here is that when Alastor is experimenting with Sir Pent, he could be completely bored out of his mind and still get a boner because biology is funky like that.)

The first few times this happens Sir Pent goes "are you sure you don't want me to, y'know, give you a handjob or something?? I feel like an inconsiderate jerk not helping out" and Alastor goes "absolutely not" and Sir Pent goes well okay I've made a career out of being an inconsiderate jerk, I guess I can do it in the bedroom too.

What they do manage to gradually figure out is that Alastor is perfectly fine with touching Sir Pent's junk, as long as it's not with his own junk or with his mouth. So hand jobs? Totally fair game. Letting Sir Pent grind against his thigh or abdomen? No problems with that. (Alastor flopped on his stomach going "this really does it for you??" and Sir Pent rubbing in Alastor's tail fur going "... yes." and Alastor is like, "wow. wild.")

More than that, Alastor gradually starts to figure out he likes that. Not necessarily the sensation of having a couple of dicks rubbing on his thigh—that's just sorta weird and probably always will be—but the knowledge of what it's doing to Sir Pent. He likes knowing he's giving Sir Pentious pleasure. He likes hearing him gasp and seeing him writhe and knowing that it's because Sir Pent wants Alastor and that Alastor has the power to give him exactly what he wants. He likes hearing Sir Pent hissing his name and little praises and one-word requests. ("Alastor’s existence revolves around mouths” includes sounds coming out of mouths, he gets more out of words and little noises than he does out of sight & touch combined.)

They figure out that what Alastor enjoys doing best is spooning Sir Pent from behind, wrapped around him to jerk him off. In bed or in the shower or even sitting with Sir Pent in his lap or between his legs. Alastor can put his chin on Sir Pentious's shoulder to listen to the sounds he makes and watch how his long long body moves, he can wrap his free arm around his waist and feel how he tenses and relaxes and squirms, they can kiss (and/or bite, biting is nice) with a little bit of careful positioning...

Also it's easier for Alastor to quietly sing to him from there.

... Alastor sings during sex. For the record. The first time he does it it's a nervous "I don't know what I'm supposed to be saying and it seems too quiet—oh I've got a solution" but soon it's just. A thing he does. Sir Pent gradually goes from "what? seriously? this is what you're doing?" to "lmao you dork" to "well I guess I now have a new kink I will never be able to get rid of, thanks." Sometimes he'll shakily sing along and Alastor's guts will melt into warm goo.

So there's a general overview of the more, like, normal stuff they get up to. Considering that their shared hobbies include things like "murder" and "being better than everyone else" and one of them is a cannibal, I'm sure that once they get down the basics they just get weirder. Copious amounts of blood get involved! Not their own blood. Other people's. 

[jeanstoppable]

12th, 13th & 14th OF OCTOBER

~locked here for forever~

~treasure that needs no explanation~

~I know my destination, I’m just not there~

(A/N: This is a Dark Academia story after all. So prepare for the spooks!)

Wake up. Wake up.

You’re here again. Wake up!

Is there really no other way? I don’t want to wake up.

The feel of soft sheets caressed her cheeks, the smell of burning incense filled her nostrils, and a quietness that’s not normal in any way, devoid of the blowing wind, birds, people. She’d woken up and those eyelashes drifted open as they normally do, routinely, constant and never changing.

Here again. You’re here again.

Despite the creeping sensation of fear and the unexplainable erratic beating of her heart, a peaceful calm washed over her, like she shouldn’t feel afraid because nothing’s happened. Nothing’s happened yet.

Later. Later. The thought vanished as soon as it came.

The girl pushed aside the sheets, smaller hands gripping the blanket tightly as she placed a foot on the floor, trying to test its temperature. The coldness of it was still the same, she’d remember becoming numb after feeling it over and over again, a painful cycle that would repeat each and every day.

Cycle? And once again the thought was forgotten.

She slowly stood up and fixed the bedding, neat and tidy—the girl halted as something throbbed on the back of her mind, delaying her movements for a few seconds.

No. You never lingered there for too long.

Her body suddenly moved forward as if pulled by invisible strings and that calm from earlier returned without warning, and her mind just went blank. Feeling languid, the girl opened the door to the dresser and picked out the dress in the middle, the only dress, then went towards the mirror beside it.

The girl stared at her reflection, holding it against her body—it was a long white dress with a v-neck, the ends of it were piled on the ground, the sleeves were also long, stretching further beyond her hands—it was enchanting and the girl found herself staring dreamily at it.

The girl’s attention flitted to her face for a split second—

Blood was smeared across it.

The dress slipped and fell to the floor as the girl backed away from the mirror, tearing her gaze away from it as fast as possible because…!

She frowned and then eyed the dirtied dress sitting on the ground. Because what? Why was the dress on the floor?

“You’re out of it, Dahlia.” The girl said to herself as she pulled the dress close and dusted it off, “Today’s the day, there’s no time for nervousness.”

Dahlia quickly stripped away her previous clothes, because she was running late after all, and stepped into that white dress with ease. She smoothed a hand down and finally turned towards the mirror again.

Beautiful. It fit perfectly.

The girl twirled, watching the dress trail from side to side as giggles soon filled the silent room and she was twirling and twirling. When she caught sight of her horrified expression on the reflection, she froze and rushed to grasp the border of the mirror. Dahlia didn’t remove her eyes from it, etching every single detail into her mind.

“Who are you?”

The girl in the mirror opened those blood streaked lips and mouthed something.

“What?” Dahlia asked, not understanding the word that she said.

It kept talking, and talking, and talking. Repeating the same word.

Dahlia read those lips for a moment before mimicking its shape, “Wake…Up?”

“But I’m already—“ Something wet touched her feet.

Dahlia looked down and paled at the blood pouring out of the mirror, her eyes snapped back the reflection to find the girl on her knees, shoulders hunched over and trembling.

“W-what?” She said fearfully and started crying out, “Wake up. Wake up!”

Because she now understands, none of this was supposed to happen, the girl in the mirror and the blood. Nightmare. This was another nightmare. Dahlia fled back to the bed, jumping on it carelessly even if the blood-soaked dress stained it. Her hands pulled the sheets over her head, breaths coming in short and quick puffs as she forced her lids shut and waited.

And waited. And waited.

Wake up. Please.

The blanket was suddenly pulled from her and Dahlia screamed her lungs out—

“No! No!”

Strong hands gripped her arms and shook them, “Hey! Hey, it’s me! Valerie, it’s Valerie!”

Dahlia didn’t hear the familiar voice of her friend and continued to thrash from the hold, believing she’s still trapped in a nightmare. “Wake up! Wake up!”

“Dammit.” The grip eased and disappeared, but she still refused to see. If what awaits her were those faces, she’d rather go blind.

Unexpectedly, a soft, fur-like sensation tickled her hand. Dahlia registered the strange yet comforting feeling, and unconsciously opened her eyes.

Honey orbs greeted her. And when the girl looked at the source of the sensation, a tail was there.

“...Dahlia.” The shifter in front of her said firmly.

“Valerie...?”

“Yes, it’s me. It’s me, doll.”

Dahlia collapsed forward and Valerie easily caught the girl in an embrace, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay.” The shifter hushed, “It was only a nightmare.”

“It’s only a nightmare.” Dahlia repeated the phrase, as she did like the nights before.

It’s not real.

Deny all you want. An ugly whisper wormed its way into her thoughts and Dahlia instinctively covered her ears.

You’re locked here forever. With us. With us.

No. No, that’s not true.

We’re still here.

And here, we are with you. Because we’re bound to you. And soon you’ll see.

WE’LL DRAG YOU DOWN.

Dahlia whimpered at the violent and manic voices shrieking, “...Valerie, my wand please.”

The shifter looked concerned and uncertain but reached over for the witch’s wand anyway and placed it into her waiting palm.

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing,” Dahlia said to Valerie who was about to make a comment, “The spell will help with the nightmares, I just won’t be dreaming again tonight.”

“You are pretty nifty with that thing, speaking from personal experience and all that.” The shifter weakly sighed and caved in, “Okay. Take care of yourself, I won’t be back for a while.”

“Leaving for classes?” Dahlia asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Goodluck tonight.” Valerie raised an eyebrow to which Dahlia simply offered her a tired smile in return, “And complain to me about how you get rejected once again by that Night Stalker of yours.”

Valerie’s lips curled upwards dangerously, “One day, you're going to eat your words, witch.”

With that said, the shifter shuffled towards the door, shooting Dahlia one final look before exiting and shutting the door with a soft click.

Dahlia dropped back on the bed, and stared at the ceiling for a couple of minutes. Relishing in the silence for she knows that the voices will shortly return, they never went away for too long and neither did they ever allowed her to have peace.

For as long as you live!

The witch ignored the resurfacing memory, and pointed the wand beside her head. And then finally, when ready, said the words of a spell.

. . .

They weren’t always that close.

In fact, their first impressions of each other were...dreadful. At best.

Who’d known that a shifter and a witch would have that much bad blood between them.

. . .

Valerie had been that one little kid that's always getting in trouble for being too curious for their own good, too nosy, too reckless—you’d think she’d leave that trait behind while growing up.

It didn’t.

Not even for a second. It stuck to her like a permanent scar. Still as fearless and daring as ever, never one to deny an adventure even those that had high risks. A small percentage of those were rewarding, but Valerie had to admit, most of them she would end up on someone’s shit list.

This was not an exception.

After all, it was her first time to see a wand up close, Valerie had barely contained her excitement. The other witches don’t use them anymore, it was old practice they’d said and then sent her off on her way.

When she heard that her new roommate was coming, she was beyond ecstatic. Valerie had half expected one of her own species, but it turns out, it was a witch. A human with magic powers!

Too curious for your own good, Val. The shifter thought as she sneakily picked up the wand on the witch’s desk. It was...an ordinary tree branch from which tree, she had no idea. It looks a bit worn. Well...To be very honest, Valerie was disappointed.

Wasn’t it supposed to be fancier?

She pouted and brought it much closer to her face, she didn’t know what prompted her to sniff it but—

The faintest scent of blood. Valerie eyed the wand critically before sniffing it again—the door opening was what made her freeze on the spot like a deer in headlights. The shifter cautiously turned around, forgetting that the wand was still in her hand.

The witch immediately spotted it and shouted, “PUT THAT DOWN!”

Valerie placed it down as quick as she can and started to explain, “Um, Dahlia, Dahlia right? I-uh listen, I was only…”

Dahlia was fuming, her left hand was clenched and bleeding from those sharp black nails of hers piercing the skin. Shoulders were shaking with rage and the shifter could see the storm building in her dark eyes, waiting to be released.

Valerie gulped, she really pushed her luck with this one.

All of a sudden, Dahlia stretched out a hand, barked a word and then the wand flew from her desk towards her open palm. Those fingers curled around the branch automatically.

Valerie’s jaw dropped at the marvellous display of magic and then instantly closed it, reminding herself that this was not the time and she should be—

“I’m sorry!”

Those dark eyes of her roommate hardened and hissed, “Don’t ever. Touch it.”

“Yes, I won’t.”

Surprisingly, the witch broke eye-contact first and shook her head, seemingly quite done with the shifter and turned to leave the room. Valerie let herself sigh in relief when—

Twisting back an arm, Dahlia launched a spell on the spot just a few centimetres away from where Valerie was standing. The shifter screamed as she jumped high in the air and ended up on the witch’s desk. Valerie’s eyes bulged out at the sight below her—the floor was cracked and something sizzled in the air—before sending the glare right back at Dahlia.

Her foot could have been that poor floor panel.

The shifter snarled, feeling fangs protrude out, “What the fuck?”

“Just a warning.” The witch said dryly.

“I said I won’t touch it!”

“People lie.”

“I fucking promise I won’t touch it, okay?”

Dahlia regarded her for a second, and then nodded.

“You’ll end up like that—“ she jutted a chin at the floor and Valerie shot her an unamused look, “—if you break your promise.”

The shifter held back a growl that was about to slip out of her lips and tried to get her breathing in control. This was her fault to begin with. Valerie sulked. She had to suck it up now she had a pissed off witch on her back.

Dahlia said nothing as her gaze slid down to her right hand that was holding the wand, unaware that Valerie was observing.

Valerie continued to watch as the witch’s orbs glossed over with an unreadable emotion, then replaced by fierce possession as if she wanted to hide it from the rest of the world and then the next was—hate. The shifter was surprised the wand didn’t combust into flames with how hard Dahlia had been glowering at it.

Although, Valerie could see that she valued the wand to a certain extent.

Like some twisted kind of treasure that needs no explaining. Just one look and it’s obvious---the witch was fond of it as much as she hates it.

Cursed.

One word stood out to her amongst all the others. The wand was cursed, Valerie would bet her entire fortune on it.

. . .

Like most things, she would come to underestimate it and how truly cursed it was.

. . .

Valerie found her roommate on the floor again—like the previous nights—kneeling and rocking back and forth. Sobs racking her entire body and shaking like a leaf in a storm. Her wand was nowhere to be found, she might’ve flung it somewhere in the room earlier.

Valerie briefly recounted the various incidents that have happened so far:

At first, it was the muttering---that incessant muttering of hers that would sometimes disrupt Valerie’s sleep since she had sensitive ears, given that she was a shifter. And then remembering a time being so pissed that she threw a pillow at her roommate. The act earned her a few hexes that lasted for days on end, she had to crash at someone else’s for a while.

Then came the sleep walking, which terrified Valerie on multiple accounts and would much rather have preferred the mutterings instead of being shaken awake by an unconscious Dahlia.

And now, nightmares had come to visit the witch and those were the worst of them all.

Valerie nearly, nearly had a heart-attack when she woke up to a blood-curdling scream in the middle of the night. At some point, it became intolerable that Valerie even had to switch classes just so she could avoid hearing Dahlia scream, because it was the kind of terrible sound that unsettles. A deep-seated disturbance that buries itself inside of you and doesn’t leave without its marks on your soul.

But if that was just from the cries, she’d shudder at the mere thought of what were the actual nightmares that plagued the witch.

However, these phenomenons become somewhat of a bridge for Valerie to befriend the troubled human.

Here we are again. Valerie thought as she left the warmth of her bed and towards Dahlia. She put a gentle hand on her friend’s back and stayed silent.

“I’m trying, Val.” Dahlia whispered and then curled herself further into a ball.

When the shifter opted to only listen, the witch continued to breathe life into her thoughts, “I’m trying to get better. I know what I-I should do, better than anyone else. I know where to start, where to go. I know my destination. How far—gods, Valerie, I know. But I’m just...not there.” Her voice cracked and Valerie’s heart shattered at the heaviness of it.

“I see the end, I really do. I can see...me being happy.” She laughed and nothing about it was humorous, “It’s like...I’m in the between. Stuck. Running in the same spot over and over again. And I don’t know why. Why? Why am I still here?”

“Dahlia...Look at me.” Those dark brown orbs flicked up to her and there she found the thing that gave Valerie the strength to fight the overwhelming hurt she felt for her dear friend, “I can see it in your eyes, you know? That you want to change, the drive to break free of whatever the hell that’s been clinging so desperately to your ankles, that’s why you try.”

“Why aren’t you there, you ask me...But doll,” Valerie gave her the brightest smile despite the tears in her eyes, ”I think you aren’t there yet. Yet. It’s the little things that count, the small yet stubborn belief to change a mindset. You aren’t there yet, but you will be. Keep chasing, no matter how tiring and exhausting, and if you truly see yourself happy in the end, just hold on to that hope, doll.”

“They haven’t taken you, Dahlia. You’ve got to remember that. You’re here. Here.” The shifter gestured her hands around their room, “With your shitty shifter friend,” Valerie pointed to herself. “It’s only us, you and me, no one else. The best those nightmares can do is knock you down—convince you that they still have control, but in reality they don’t because they’re not here.”

Dahlia burst into tears anew as Valerie looped an arm around her back and pulled the witch towards her. After a while of only sniffling and quietness, Dahlia soffly said, “...You’re not a shitty friend, Val.”

Valerie hid a smile, “I think so too, but hey, I’m glad you said it.”

The strange pair both laughed.

. . .

If those silly fairy tales that humans had written held at least some ounce of truth in it, she sincerely hopes that the part where there’s always a way to break the curse was true.

So that you can live happily ever after.

(A/N: very very late but I decided to make mash all three prompts into one! Finally we get a witch! October wouldn’t be complete without a witch. So Adding one more to the oc roster, Dahlia thw witch room mate of our precious shifter Valerie. They have a wholesome frienship even if they got off on a bad start, hope yall give them some love!! Peace!)

[im-a-goner-foryou]

Thanks for voting everyone, it was a close tie but more of you guys wanted drunk! Tony taking advantage of Peter, so here's part 1 because it got longer than i expected :') let me know if you think it's worth continuing!

Warning: implied non-con

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

The condensation sliding down his drink in rivulets is startlingly cold against his skin, pooling around the base of the glass in a small puddle; Peter wipes the wetness off his hand absent-mindedly on his sleeve, gaze still darting around the crowded hall and taking in the finely dressed occupants with furtive eyes. To say he feels uncomfortable is an understatement, being the only teenager present at one of Tony Stark's renowned parties; a fact that Peter had brought up when the invitation had been extended to him, by the host himself.

.

"Thank you Sir, really, but why-- why would..." Peter had asked tentatively, setting down the coffee onto his bosses' desk as requested. He didn't finish his sentence- 'why on earth would you bring me?', but Mr. Stark shot him a knowing look over the rim of the styrofoam cup anyways.

"Well, you are my intern, are you not? And this is a corporate event after all."

To which Peter had then begun to protest that he had no experience with business parties, and even if he did- this part he had mumbled quietly- he didn't own any appropriate formal attire.

"So you need a suit?" Tony said, waving his hand dismissively. "Consider that taken care of, Parker. And I'm sure you'll catch onto 'business party' etiquette fast enough, just take this as part of your training. I'll see you then?" he finished with an unmistakable air of finality, and Peter couldn't exactly disagree, could he? Especially not after a sleek parcel had been delivered right to his doorstep the very next night, containing a deep royal purple three piece suit that fit him so perfectly it was as though tailor-made.

.

Idly fingering the cuff now, Peter was just about to turn back to his drink when he felt more than saw someone slide smoothly into the seat beside him. Groaning inwardly, he contemplates blatantly ignoring his new company altogether; but at the sound of a cleared throat Peter grudgingly turns around-- only to be met with startling cornflower blue eyes and a warm smile.

"Hello," Stephen Strange purrs in that silky voice of his, extending a hand for him to shake; the man's skin is cool under Peter's trembling fingers. "You must be little Parker, I assume? I saw you arrive at Stark's side earlier tonight." He had not even bothered to introduce himself-- not that there was any need to, of course. Like most of the other guests present, Strange was high-profile and rightly so.

"Oh, yes. I- I'm his intern," he says lamely, feeling the tips of his ears already begin to burn red; the older man is undeniably handsome, especially dressed a million-dollar outfit, and Peter is only a hormonal teenager after all.

Tearing his eyes away from the other with much difficulty, he raises his glass to his lips again and nearly chokes on a huge gulp. Strange raises his eyebrows, surprise evident in his words of, "you're old enough to drink?"

"Oh, no Sir" --Peter swears he can see the man's eyes darken at his use of that title-- "it's just... um. Sparkling juice?" Flushing impossibly warmer and feeling for all the world like nothing more than a foolish child, he braces himself for a cruel reaction; for a patronizing sneer, a snide comment. He's surprised, to say the least, by Stephen's responding chuckle of kind amusement.

"Is that so? Well then, do let me buy you a drink, will you-- one rosé for the boy," he calls out to the bartender, turning slightly to shoot him a conspiratorial wink. "Oh, don't you worry that pretty head of yours now, it's just wine. Mild flavour, great for beginners," Strange adds, though Peter's head is buzzing too loudly to register the words after 'pretty head of yours'.

"Uh--"

He never got to finish his sentence however, for at that moment a hand falls heavily onto his shoulder, causing him to jump in surprise-- then yelp softly as the grip tightens painfully. His heart thrumming wildly in his chest, Peter whirls around to face his boss. "Oh! Hi Mr. Stark," he greets politely, nerves instantly melting away to a relaxed smile at the sight of a familiar face; then he notices that the man's dark eyes aren't looking at him, but rather fixated pointedly over his shoulder at his present company. "I, um, I was just talking to Mr. Strange here..."

"Yes, I saw," Gritting this out through clenched teeth as though it pained him to do so, Mr. Stark continues glaring coldly at the other man while almost spitting out his next words. "Buying drinks for underaged interns now, are you Stephen? My, you're sinking even lower than I've thought."

Peter catches, even through the powerful rush of blood thrumming through his ears, the distinct drawl of Tony's speech; nervous gaze flicking away from Stephen's now icy cold eyes to his boss, he comes to the realisation that the latter is drunk. Very.

"Mr. Stark..." he begins hesitantly, and that burning gaze falls on him again, the glazed-over pupils sharpening abruptly.

"We're leaving, Parker," the man very nearly snarls, giving Peter no chance to prepare himself or to respond before he's being tugged violently onto his feet by an unforgiving grasp on his arm. Stumbling a little, he begins to trail after Mr. Stark, looking back at the last minute to mumble a 'it's nice to meet you, Sir' to Strange-- who regards him coolly and with a half-smile-- Peter immediately regrets doing so however, as this seems to anger his boss even further. Face now twisting to something almost monstrous, Tony drags him across the room and past silently questioning eyes to the elevators, stabbing at the button of the control panel; the metal doors barely begin to slide open before he's being practically flung inside.

As the doors slide closed behind the man, Peter can't help but feel a foreboding sense of fear overtake his body, and for a frightening second he's reminded of a cornered prey, trapped by some dangerous animal; the look in Mr. Stark's eyes seem wild enough, glinting intimidatingly under the dim light overhead. The heavy, tense silence between them is only magnified by the confined space, and when the older man begins to speak in a disconcertingly cold voice Peter's never heard before, the boy instinctively backs away. "So, care to share about the new friend you made, Parker?" Mr. Stark mutters quietly, advancing towards him in a movement that resembles a prowl much more than it should. "You two certainly seemed... cozy enough by the bar."

"Sir, I--" Peter stutters, unable to force out the words stuck in his closed-off throat; his apprehension fully giving way to sharp and blinding fear as his boss stalks forward with every timid step he takes back, slowly yet surely crowding him up against the wall. "I don't... we were just, he just wanted to talk--"

Mr. Stark barks out a mirthless laugh, and the sound reverberates chillingly around them. "Oh, I bet he did. That bastard definitely showed interest, I'd give him that. What were you planning to do, hmm? Let him ply you over with drinks, talk you into spreading your legs for him later on in the bathroom like a cheap whore?"

"Mr. Stark!" Peter gasps, horrified; the implication of his darkly uttered words fully sink in, and mortification burns hot in his veins along with the welling tears in his eyes. "It's not like that, I swear, I- I would never do such a thing!"

"I have a hard time believing that, sweetheart," the older man snarls. Closing the space between them with two final strides, he slams his forearm against Peter's chest- punching all the breath out of him- and leans further down until their faces are mere inches apart, breaths falling harshly across his cheek. "Always knew you were a slut, Peter, the way you act around me; fucking begging for it constantly, like a horny bitch. Just never thought you'd be desperate enough to act the same around others-- but I guess any cock will do for you, won't it?"

Openly crying now, pinned helplessly underneath the stronger man, Peter can only shake his head weakly in protest; he's never seen Mr. Stark like this, refuses to believe it. "D-don't know, wh-what I, act like--" he sobs. "Please, Sir... please, you're hurting me."

His pleads have no effect; if anything, Tony seems to savour it. Other hand flying up to clutch his quivering chin roughly, his boss turns his tear-streaked face this way and that, dark eyes drinking him in; his next slurred words are as bitter as the alcohol in his breath. "You were always too innocent for your own good, Pete."

[spacebugarts]

Hey I did a drawing and wrote a short ficlet for something that occurs at some point during my Chimera AU for Project Blue Book. Have some depression :)

Reunion

They walked through the dingy lab, Michael's electrified hand serving as a flashlight in the dark. Dread settled into Allen's stomach as he tried not to remember all of the horrors he had suffered through during The Chimera Project.

The two flinched as a mechanical hissing sound rang through the empty halls, sounding far too familiar. Slowly, they made their way to the source of the noise. It was coming from a room Allen didn't recognize— one of the many doors he was never allowed anywhere close to.

What met their eyes was nothing short of horrifying.

Medical tables covered in dried blood, dozens of sharp instruments lined up along the walls, and no shortage of biohazard cleaning stations. What was the most shocking, though, was the large creature suspended in a mysterious fluid within a large tank, lit only by a dim green light.

Allen stepped towards it as Michael examined the tables, shocked. The creature's alien features mirrored his own, large ears and antennae folded back in sorrow, matching the pained expression frozen on its face. The bulbs of its antennae and smattering of freckles, which shone a deep blue in Allen's own reflection, had gone dark. There was no light in the unseeing eyes, and the professor felt a deep sorrow pulling him towards the creature, pressing a hand to the glass.

Suddenly he was swept away by an onslaught of emotion; pain, fear, loss— but, above all, he felt love.

Through the connection he had made with this creature, he felt the love of a mother who had lost her child. The loss of a child she'd never gotten to know, because it was never really hers. He felt her sorrow as she used her last thoughts to send a message to the child she'd never meet.

“My dearest child, I'm so sorry I will never get to know you. I'm so sorry I'll never get to teach you about your home, or your people. There are so many things I want to show you, but I don't have much time left on this plane. I hope you can make your way out of this horrible place, and make a life for yourself worth living; and, if you're ever around to hear this message… I want you to know that I love you. So very, very much. I will always love you. I want you to know how much I love you.”

His hand snapped back, tears he hadn't realized he'd shed falling down his face. Michael walked over, looking up at the tank.

“Woah… the hell is that thing?”

“My mother…” Allen muttered, voice breaking. By now, the tears he was shedding were his own as he realized what they'd found. This was the room where he was made. Where they took this creature's DNA and forced it into him, forcing some poor woman to foster a child she'd never know. The bloody table was where he was removed, the sink on the wall where he was cleaned off before being thrown into a metal crib and treated like a science experiment for most of his life.

“Oh my god, Doc, I'm so sorry, I— I didn't—”

“No, it's ok, I just…” He paused, wiping the tears from his face. “Her last words… she told me she loved me. She used her last words to tell me she loved me…”

“She did? You mean with your weird... telepathy thing?”

Hynek nodded, a sob wracking his shoulders as Michael wrapped him in an embrace, letting the hybrid cry into his shoulder.

“Allen, I'm so sorry, I— I shouldn't have made you bring me here, I shouldn't—”

“N— no, it's… I'm glad I came back. I'm glad I got to… at least now I know. That she loved me.” He sniffled, pulling away and wiping his eyes. “I'm glad I at least got to hear her say she loved me.”

Michael pulled him out of the room, sitting him down in the hallway and listening intently as he explained what he felt. He described her voice, and what he saw in her fragments of memories. She'd died in pain, but she was glad that she had at least been able to see her son. Just once.

He cried because he would never get to know her, or see the place she called home, or learn about the culture he had come from. He cried because he wished she had been there to see him grow up, to guide him as he chased the stars. He cried because he should have tried to break her out with him. Because he had come back too late.

“Well, I can't tell you much, but I do know one thing.” The captain paused, intertwining their hands and wiping a stray tear from Allen's cheek, freckles glowing a dark indigo. “She'd be damn proud of you, Doc. She'd be proud that you got out, that you dedicated your life to finding out who you are and where you came from. That you studied the stars because they were what you were passionate about… that you found someone else that loves you even half as much as she did, and that you made yourself a life you're happy in.”

Michael leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead and coaxing a smile from his lips, tears still dancing in his eyes.

"Thank you Michael... Can we get out of here now?" Allen asked, earning a laugh from his partner as he guided them out of the lab, a large weight seemingly lifted from their shoulders.