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Valentine? What is that? [Detective Conan Fanfiction]

Shinichi had run to the garden floor before the commotion passed. He still did not understand why the thief would have made his exit route known to everybody, but that was KID they were chasing. Most of the time people did not even imagine what it was inside his head. It was too confusing.

The door to the garden opened. Shinichi carefully walked to the middle of it, mindful to not spring any traps. He looked for the man who was known as the moonlight magician, the white in the darkness. He was not there yet.

His was waiting like that for a couple of minutes, until he could feel the presence behind himself. Shinichi quickly turned and then tried to smack himself for being this nervous. With the black organization gone, he could have relaxed more. But the old habits die hard.

KID had amused smile on his face, as he stood there all relaxed, with his hands in his pockets. He smirked.

"Feeling jumpy today, detective?"

Shinichi glared at KID. He was not happy that KID was making him lose his valentine evening. He would ditch him and went to the date with Ran, if not for Sonoko begging him to catch KID. She should just forget KID and concentrate on Makoto.

"Really, you look like you don't want to be here." He said, as he raised his arms.

Shinichi sighed. "I don't. But Sonoko insisted and Ran is unable to say no to her." He walked to him. "So would you mind just giving me the jewel, I let you go and we can all get back to the celebrating Valentine."

KID looked confused. "What's valentine? And why it is worth celebrating?"

Shinichi blinked. That is the answer that he did not expect. Especially since he imagined that KID was high school or university student. So he should have seen girls giving chocolate. "Valentine? The holiday of lovers?" he asked.

"It is today?" KID looked confused.

"Since it is the 14th of February, I would say yes." Shinichi said. "Did you not notice the women giving the men chocolate?"

"That was romantic?" KID said and now it looked like he looked sick. He them muttered "I can't believe I asked Akako to give me one."

"What did you say?" Shinichi asked.

"Nothing." KID made a rose appear in his hand, and started to play with it. "It is not a promise, right?"

"Well, if you liked it, then in month time, on the 14th of March, you gave them something back."

KID looked like he relaxes, as he exhaled. Shinichi actually wondered happened. There was a story behind it.

Then the KID took the flower and threw it. Shinichi caught it and realized that it had jewel on it. "Tell Ran that I apologize." he said, as he took of.

Shinichi was looking at the jewel, then shuddered. It doesn't really matter. He returned the jewel to the inspector Nakamori, and made his way out.

On the way he noticed a person that looked like him asking a girl for chocolate. Hakuba was also standing next to him. He acted like an idiot, but could it be...

At that moment Sonoko knocked him on the shoulder and he turned around. She looked displeased. "I thought you will bring KID here?"

Ran was standing next to her, looking apologetic.

Shinichi rolled his eyes. "I have better things to do than worry about that." He then noticed the paper in Ran's pocket. "Mind if I see that?"

"What is that?" Ran took the paper from her pocket. "Miss Mouri, Sorry for ruining your date. Kaitou KID?"

Sonoko took the paper and started to complain why she got nothing, and Shinichi glanced at the direction of that look alike of him. Then he turned back to Ran and smiled. "Hungry?"

A Problem Form The Past [BBC Sherlock Fanfiction]

When Sherlock woke up, the first thing he noticed was the headache in his head. The next was the ropes around his wrists, elbows, ankles and hips. All of it was secured with the duct tape. There was a cloth in his mouths. He tried to listen, but there was nothing he could hear, so he opened his eyes. But there was darkness around him.

Sherlock shivered. It was cold, especially since there was summer outside. The feeling got even amplified by the side effect of halothane used on him.

Sherlock hoped that there was at least some light, and his eyes are going to adjust to it. But as we waited minutes, there were no changes. He wondered if that is the reason, why they did not use a blindfold.

He was also without the coat, meaning that he had none of his usual tools for escape.

He was waiting there for what seems to him like days, but his intern clock told him it was just over three hours since he awoke. He did not know how long was he unconscious.

The light blared to life, and Sherlock had to close his eyes. It was painful. He could hear a door open and one pair of steps coming closer. He could hear the phone taking a picture, and the person starting to walk away. The doors closed and the lights turned off.

Sherlock cursed the gag right now. If he would be able to talk, as least he could find out what is going on. It looked like he was a hostage, but to pressure who? Mycroft? Then these people really did not know, who they are dealing with.

He was bored. No data for him to work with. He simply sat there, hoping that whoever they are pressuring is going to do something soon.

It was another three hours, when he heard the doors opening. There was just the light from the hall now. The same hall that Sherlock could now hear gunshots from.

A man came closer, and Sherlock could feel the knife on his neck. It was annoying. The person was waiting for something or more likely somebody.

Sherlock could see another man coming into the room. But since the light was behind him, he could still only see silhouette. But it was familiar...

"Well, well, well, if it isn't The Captain." It was said with such fleer, that Sherlock for the first time got uncomfortable with the situation. The person behind him did not seem to know any restrain.

"And be so nice to put the gun down, will you. You wouldn't want anything to happen, right?"

"He is not involved in this, Tristan." Sherlock relaxed when he recognized the voice of John Watson. But that did not explain what he was doing here.

John slowly moved down, and put his gun on the ground, standing back up. Sherlock noticed he did not try to make any quick movements.

"He is your pet." the person named Tristan said with the sneer. "You know how the game works."

John looked around. Sherlock was happy that his eyes got used to the dark. He looked up, and looked at Tristan's face. About 20 years older than John, alcoholic, former military.

Tristan then gave oeillade to Sherlock. "But I have to say, your taste is as exquisite as ever."

The next moment, John was grabbing the hand with the knife. A second later it fell, and John sidestepped, throwing Tristan to the ground. Sherlock could hear a thump the click of the handcuffs behind him.

John then came closer to him, his hands looking at the small cut on the neck, and then he went and started to untie the fabric around his face.

"Are you alright?" John asked as he looked at his face.

"Me, fine." Sherlock said, as he tried to look behind.

John laughed as he started moving to the back and started cutting through the ropes and duct tape. "You could at least wait until I untie you."

It was done in a couple of minutes. Then Sherlock could stand up and stretched. He also looked behind, seeing his captor unconscious, handcuffed to the pipe.

"Can we go?" John said. He looked a little uncomfortable here. He took back his gun.

Sherlock just nodded and followed him outside. He noticed dozens of guards lying there. At the first floor, they looked like they were subdued. But as they went a floor higher, they looked like they were just asleep. There was a trace of a smell in the air, like a sweet alcohol.

"Diethyl ether?" Sherlock asked as he kneeled next to somebody.

"Yes, and I used all of it, so I think it is better is we simply move from here as quickly as possible." John said, his hands in his pockets.

"Where did you even get it?" Sherlock asked, but he let John lead him away from there.

"There is a good chemist's laboratory on Baker street." John pointed out.

They made their way out. As soon as they were a good distance away, John started to call Lestrade.

But just as the phone call connected, there was an explosion behind them. Sherlock jumped, not being prepared for it. Sure diethyl ether was flammable, but there were just traces left.

He glanced at John, who looked like he was not surprised at all. He could hear panicking Lestrade from the phone.

"We are fine." said John on the phone. "A place Sherlock was kept in just exploded." He paused for a moment. "We are both fine. Let me give you the coordinates."

He ended the call, turning away and starting to walk. Sherlock used his advantage in height to catch up to him.

"You have questions." John said, mirroring their first case.

Sherlock looked at the tense lines of his face. "Yet you don't want to talk about it."

John sagged, as he stopped. "I just hoped that this part of my life is buried underground. Deep underground."

Sherlock looked at his actions, the face, movements of the eyes. "Would it be better for me to just deduce it?"

"Oh, yes." John said. He smiled at Sherlock and Sherlock noticed as he smiled back. "But you need to shower. And eat something, I am sure they gave you nothing. You also look dehydrated."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but they made their way back to the Baker Street.

The Path to Acceptance [X-Men Fanfiction]

Charles and Erik were playing chess. They were at the end game, the result already clear, with Erik in the lead. Charles would have to pull a miracle to get a victory out of it.

"Check mate." Erik said as he stood up. He took the glass and drunk the last bit of Sherry.

"What is wrong?" Charles asked. He remained seated, but looked at Erik expectantly.

"Nothing is wrong." Erik looked back at Charles. He was waiting for an answer.

"There are..." Charles leaned forward, supporting his head with an arm in a thinking position. "Never mind." Charles turned and started to clean the chess set.

Erik turned to him now and looked at him. "Don't start what you don't plan to finish."

Charles paused with a queen in his hand, turning it over before placing it in the box.

"You sometimes feel lonely when Raven talks to Hank or me to Moira. Not to mention that you were tenser around me today. And that time at the Russian general..."

Charles looked up and saw the displeasure written on Erik's face. He bit his lips. "I can't stop it, if people are screaming their thoughts."

Erik stepped forward, coming back to his chair, and put a hand on it, glancing at it. Then he looked at Charles. "There was one thing I was interested it."

"Hmm?" said Charles. His face was full of hope, as he dedicated his full focus to Erik.

Erik sat back down. "Why don't you let Raven be herself?"

Charles looked away, and took his glass of sherry, taking a sip from it. He looked at it, like thinking how is he going to choose his words. He bit his lips.

Charles looked at Erik, with apt concentration. "Sometimes people have to choose about being alone and being themselves." In his hand the glass rotated. "People still judge others by how they look."

"But is that not her own choice?" Erik said. He glared at Charles, challenging him.

Charles looked at his glass. "No, it is not."

Erik stood up and left the room. His pace was brisk, as he walked into the next floor to his room. He let his annoyance built up. But before he entered the room, he stopped, his arm supporting him on the doors as he sighed.

He opened the door, and he paused. There was Raven in his bed. "Well..." he said, as he closed the doors behind him. "This is a surprise."

"The nice kind?"

No surprise in bad had been a nice kind for him. He did not want to deal with it right now. "Get out, Raven. I want to go to bed." He started to walk toward the other end of the room to get her robe. He added a quip. "Maybe in a few years." Not that a few years could change anything.

"How about now?"

Erik turned around and he was met with the older looking Raven. She was smiling at him, challenging. At least she could drop her mask. "I prefer the real Raven." He could see her change in the mask she is usually wearing. "I said the real Raven."

She slowly changed into her blue form. She looked uncomfortable, shy. Erik looked her up and down. She was aesthetically pleasing. An formidable force.. "Perfection."

"Could you pass me my robe?" Erik did not even looked at the robe. To him, the cloths were just something that society expected the people to wear. She did not need them.

He sat next to her. If she could be proud of herself, she could be unstoppable. Like a predator. "You don't have to hide. Have you ever looked at a tiger and thought you ought to cover it up?"

"No. But..." Raven hid her face, shaking her head. Erik wanted to scream at her. How could somebody has such low self-esteem.

"You're an exquisite creature, Raven." She looked up to him. "All your life the world's tried to tame you. It's time for you to be free."

Erik leaned her face down to kiss her, but his body was tense. He wanted her to be proud of herself. He figured that this was a way she could feel accepted as a woman. But he also did not want to partake in anything more than a kiss.

The kiss was shorter than he expected. She was still inexperienced, which surprised Erik. They just looked at each other. Raven looked down, her eyes distant, but then the focused.

"You still want to sleep?" Raven said.

Erik thought to himself. Sleeping still sounded more fun, but he did not want Raven to feel unaccepted. He lived long enough thinking he is alone, to let any of his kind feel the same.

Raven started to stand up, and went to get a robe. She looked indecisive.

"I am tired, so yes. But you can stay." Erik said.

Raven turned around, a surprise written on her face. She smiled, and her face beamed. "Maybe another time."

But he could see that she is holding a piece of paper in her hands. The only paper there was the file, that he took from Charles room.

She looked a lot more confident, as she left the room, the robe in her arms. But then why did he have a feeling that she was worried about something.

Next morning, as he came for breakfast, he noticed how Raven was observing him the whole time. She had a thoughtful face on the whole time. Charles looked from one to another from time to time, but he did not comment on it. None of the others acted different, so Erik just assumed that it is siblings thing.

After breakfast Charles went to help Alex, Sean had a fighting lesson with Moira and Hank left to his laboratory.

Raven came to Hank, and she offered him a book

Erik took it and looked at it. It was a thin book, the title of it being 'Imre: A Memorandum', written by "Charles'?"

"It was given to him as a gift." she said. "I thought it might help you."

"Thank you." Erik said, as he weighed it in his hands. He tried to smile, but it was an awkward smile.

Erik spent the next day reading the book in pockets in time. It was a romance novella, not something he would be normally interested in. He could see some parallels, like the two strangers that meet and gain each other's trust. But did Raven think that he wanted to be with Charles?

When the dinner came, he left the book on the counter, as he helped to prepare it. He knew how much work does it goes into preparing food for a group of people.

Hank came into the room, and he picked up the book. Erik glanced at him, but did not otherwise paid him much attention. He did notice a frown on his face.

"Bozo." Alex welcomed him. "Help me with carrots?"

Hank put the book down, and stared at it some more, then went to the counter and started to cut carrots.

Charles moved himself away, making sure that the hands dripped as little as possible. He looked at the book. "That is a book a haven't read in a while."

"It is yours?" Hank asked in surprise. "I have not expected that."

"Xavier. My classmates thought it was funny." He said, a smile on his face. "It is not a bad book either."

"I like it too." Raven jumped in the conversation. "Quite well written."

Hank looked at the book. "It is not something a decent man," He glanced at Raven, "or woman would read." he said.

Erik noticed Charles stills as he narrowed his eyes, and then take a deep breath. But it was barely seen. It looks like the last comment pissed him off.

"I find nothing indecent in it." Charles said, in a flat voice. But he refused to look at Hank.

"The relationship described there is not natural." Hank started. "We were made to reproduce among each other."

"It is just as natural as anything a society considers normal." Charles said, as he put the salad away, to glare at Hank.

"You can't know that!" Hank said. He looked annoyed, with his arms crossed in front of him.

Charles pointed with two straight fingers to his temple and looked at him in question. "Can't I?"

He then realized that he was having wet hands, and he went and took a wipe cloth to dry it. But he then looked at Hank in expectation.

Hank looked uncomfortable and he turned away, ending the conversation. He continued to cut the carrots.

Charles' face fell down, but he also returned to his salad. "I am sorry."

After a tense dinner, Erik went to the Charles' study, the same as every evening. As he stood in front of the door, he paused. He only now realized how these meetings looked like. Even when the truth was far away from it.

"Are you going to stand here the whole evening?" Charles asked.

Erik turned around and he saw Charles standing behind him, with a couple of books in his hand. He raised them up. "I wanted to put some books back."

Erik opened the doors, then took the book that Raven lent him and put it on the top of the pile. Charles did not react, so he went and took a seat at the table, while he put the books away.

"I imagine Raven gave you this book?" Charles asked, as he put the last book in place, and turned to Erik.

Erik simply nodded, and then took a chess set and started to prepare it for the game. Black figures for him and white for Charles.

He could feel Charles linger longer at the bookcase, but then he also took a seat opposite from him. "She told me you found my former employment offer."

Erik looked at him in confusion. Former employment offer? He does not remember seeing anything like that.

"For the Swiss institute." Charles said, to jog his memory.

Erik remembered it now. The folder that Raven looked at it last evening. About the institute where they were curing the lack of libido in men.

"Former?" Erik said. He wanted to clarify the stance that Charles has on that.

"A former girlfriend of mine works there." Charles said. "I would have refused otherwise, but they would not even let me take Raven with me."

"Didn't expect her to talk to you about that." Erik said.

"Who could she talk to? Hank?" Charles asked, a humor in his voice.

Erik smiled. He gave him that point. It seems that at least when it comes to subjects like that, everything is open in their family.

Charles waited a moment, then moved his pawn on the board, looking up expectantly.

Erik moved a pawn as well, blocking Charles'. "But it is just a story, isn't it?"

Charles moved another pawn, as he thought of the question. "Kinsey wrote two controversial books about it. According to him, it can be a reality."

"What did he said?" Erik asked.

"We are all somewhere in the range between loving only our own sex and only other sex. The minority outside that was described as an X."

They played a couple of moves. Charles was starting to lose and he looked at the board with more intention. Erik liked that Charles was so easy to read, but at the same time, he was still hiding a lot. He smiled.

Charles looked up in question, but then he bit his lip and looked back to the board. It was curious.

There were a couple more moves played. Erik had just checked Charles' king with his bishop. "I think I might be an X."

Charles stilled his hand, that he had moved towards his knight. He then took it and moved it between his king and Erik's bishop.

"It would have explained your confusion with the Russian general. Most people would have realized that Emma was making him play with illusion of her."

Erik did not answer, not even looked at him. He moved his pawn a place further.

Charles looked up and frowned. He leaned forward as he looked worried. "Erik?"

Erik was quiet as he looked at the board, waiting for Charles' next move. But it did not come. He eventually looked up.

"Want to talk about it?" Charles said. He looked at him like a person looks at a frightened animal, that needs support and comfort.

"What is there to talk about?" Erik said.

Charles looked at him for a moment longer, then he moved his queen.

Erik looked at the board. That was an interesting move. He moved his king to the left. "What is your opinion about it?" he asked.

"There are medical reasons. The most frequently cited being the repression of the homosexuality." Charles said, as he moved his rook. "But if it is natural, then I see nothing wrong with that."

"Well, maybe Raven is right and I am just repressing." Erik said. But to him is sounded wrong.

"You do not." Charles said with conviction. "You lacked the interest even when you were younger. Freud made a couple of good points regarding that."

Erik frowned. "Did you just..." Erik got his answer as soon as Charles looked down. He used his telepathy on him when he strictly asked him not to. He walked away from the study angry for the second time in a row.

After walking away, he did not want to go to his room, so he ended up at the laboratory, that the Hank made himself. He only got a hello, before Hank buried himself back to his work.

For Erik it was relaxing seeing him work. He moved between the microscope, the drawing board and tubes like he was born there. There was barely any wasted move. The cup next to the microscope still had a drink in it.

"Why are you doing this?" Erik asked. Just because he did not agree with it, does not mean that he was disinterested in it.

"I just want to feel normal." Hank said.

"Then what?" Erik asked. Feeling normal was overrated for him.

"You can't know how if feels." Hank corrected the dial on the microscope. "You look normal."

"I don't feel normal." Erik said. He saw Hank look at him. "I don't want to either."

Hank thought for a moment, then returned to his microscope. "Some of us want to. I want that to become a choice. Not a decision of nature."

"How does it feel?" Erik asked. "Not using it, I mean."

Charles looked up at Erik, not answering. Then he turned to Moira, and excused himself, walking away. Erik followed him some distance away, still waiting.

"Like going around deaf or blind." Charles said, "while knowing that it was my choice not to hear or see."

"Why?" Erik did not understand. Erik could imagine it. It would be like feeling no metal around himself. So he did not understand Charles' choice.

Charles turned around, looking at the distance. There were hills around. Charles sat down. "Your reaction to telepathy was quite normal."

Erik sat down to him, remembering how invasive did he regarded telepathy. If that was a normal reaction, then he could imagine why Charles don't use it. Then he frowns.

"But you use it a lot." Erik noted.

"I don't care if other people think I am invasive." He said. "It is the people close to me that matter."

"So you choose to cripple himself?" Erik asked in disbelief.

"It is better than constantly being told that you are..." he looked for a word, his eyes unfocused. "freak, I guess."

Erik looked away, remembering all the time. At the camp, whit Shaw experimenting on him, while he was forced to help with extermination of his kind. His wife's, Magda's face, when she found out he is not interested. The mop that killed Anya, his daughter. The look on Magda's face, as he killed them all. The looks on all the people he haunted to get to Shaw...

"You get used to it." Erik said.

He could see Charles glance at him, a sad smile on his face. He then noticed that Charles laid down to the grass, looking at the clouds.

"I wish we wouldn't have to." said Charles. But he sounded almost defeated.

"Then don't." was Erik's reply.

Charles turned to him, looking at him for a while. Erik was unable to read his face. But none of them said anything about that.

When Erik walked in the evening to Charles' study, he was met with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you sure?" Charles asked.

Erik nodded, as he sat next to Charles. He was nervous, and he was sure that the person sitting opposite knew that.

"I could make you feel arousal, and then you can decide how much do you want something like that." Charles said. He sat himself closer to the edge of a seat.

"Well, let's see what is so special about it." Erik said. He tried to relax, but he was not succeeding.

He could feel more and more heat inside his skin, and he started to feel uncomfortable. His mental faculties were more and more focused, not analytic like normally. And it was getting more intense every second. He started to squirm in his seat, then jumped up. "Stop."

The feeling was getting less intense, but Erik could feel the irritation at himself increase. "Why would anybody want to feel like that? I felt like I am losing my mind."

"It is part of the feeling." Charles looked apologetic. He looked like he wanted to stand up, but he remained seated.

"Don't apologize, I asked you to." Erik waved at him, as he walked up and down. "It was horrible."

"Breath." Charles said.

Erik stopped and took a couple of deep breaths. "I don't want to feel something like that again." Erik said, as he sat down. "It is horrible."

"Then don't." Charles said, echoing Erik from earlier today.

Erik and Charles just looked at each other for a while. Erik sat back down on the seat, letting the feeling die out. He had a suspicion, that Charles was helping them, but he did not comment on it. "What do I then say to others?"

"You can always say that you are celibate for a reason." Charles shuddered. "If they even ask." He looked like that it is a adequate solution for him.

"And if I ever..."

"Then I am sure you will be able to explain it." Charles finished his thought. "There just don't exist a label for you. Except maybe X."

"So I am an X." Erik said. Then he looked at him, laughing. "But aren't you considered professor X."

They both started to laugh. Laughter comes a lot easier, when people accept each other for what they are.

Letting Go of Old Goals

Little boys and girls have countless goals, which can be gazed upon with a simple question: "What do you want to be when you grow up?" The answers goes from expected, like the fireman, doctor or a lawyer, to some funny ones like marring their parents or even some a little less expected like taking over the world or being an assassin.

As these boys and girls grow up, they are supposed to be accepting the reality of the world and adapt to it. Thous they become adults.

These boys and girls usually have different dreams as well. Travelling the world, having time for their hobbies, like learning the instrument or that foreign language. Or writing that book that is hidden inside of us. Maybe to simply help to support the cause that they care about.

Mentally these goals are just keeping them from being content with the present moment. They serve as the reminder that the time of every person on Earth is limited - at least for now. That while we can achieve whatever we want, we can not achieve everything. We can never have everything.

So the feeling of resentment builds up. Every time we see it on our maybe to-do list, or even in our main one, but it simply gets pushed down every time. When we see the stuff that we bought to help us, but it is getting unused. When we see other people doing the things we want to do.

What they don't realize that these people simply put something else as the most important thing in their life. When we see them enjoying the fruits of their labour, it means that they have most likely spent hours, days doing the things that brought them there.

Also, if these people don't curate their goals, then their goals will be the presentation of who they were, not of whom do they wish to become. They will tie them to the past instead of the future.

These boys and girls represent the people like me and a whole lot more. They have a lot of goals, but not enough time to pursue them all.

So what to do in that case? The first step is to forgive ourselves and to realize that we can never do everything. We can not climb the highest peaks, having a family, while travelling the world and becoming an astronaut, so we can learn to play the flute in space. So let's give ourselves permission to let the goals which no longer serve us go.

The for each goal, remove every indication of that. If it is about learning the language, then sell or give away all the language learning books. If it is gardening, then the gardening tolls. Remove the stuff that reminds you for the goal that you had let go. Don't let it be on your mind.

Let's not forget to delete the books from electronic devices and throw away the notes with ideas, ours or from others.

If you find the social circle stopping you from shedding a part of your past, then maybe it is time to shed some of that social circle as well.

If there is no void, then the new opportunities, change and improvement will not reach us. They will realize that it is too full and they will turn away. Like looking for the parking place and seeing the parking lot that is full. Most of the time, we would just drive pass, not even trying for a just in case scenario.

Then make sure that the void is going to be filled up with the things you love and the things you enjoy. It is that kind of change that is improving our way of living.

The Psychology of De-owning Books

Books have a special place among our possessions. They present the knowledge, that we have or want to have. They show the others that we are informed creatures and not barbarians. The give us safety, as we still think they hold all the answers. While not being dependent on internet access and electricity.

The lovers of books, in which I count myself, like the smell of the new book, the sound of how they break when we open them and the touch of the pages under our fingers. It is magic.

They are untouchable.

But the piles of books become magic when we are moving houses. They are heavy, bulky and they take a lot of space.

Eventually, all the books have to be let go. It could be because of moving to a different city, because the books are not needed anymore or maybe because of the death of a loved one and inability to deal with their possessions.

It is one type of possession simply because of how our subconscious sees them. We can not just throw them out in a trash bin. Sometimes is stopping us. It is why the advertisements are sometimes that bulky. They are playing on our subconscious to make them equivalent with books, making it hard to throw away.

Since throwing them in the trash is out of the picture, the next step would be trying to sell them or simply give it to somebody. Sometimes it works and we even get a feeling of peace, when we get rid of it, but knowing that somebody else is going to put it to better use.

A lot of time can be spent on that, especially if the number of books is counted in hundreds or thousands. It is not that hard to reach numbers like that. I dare you to count your own. I can say that I used to own a number of books in the range of eight hundreds. Before counting them, I thought I had less.

Not to mention that people are changing their reading habits to the electronic readers. Less and less people are going to be interested in the physical copy.

But what else can be done? There is always donation, but even the libraries and shelters don't take every book. Or at least they don't around here, maybe in other places it is different.

There is also a project of book crossing, and letting it go, but doing it with a couple of books is fine. Doing it with hundreds... it is just as big of a nightmare.

I have so people just leaving a box of books, with a word FREE on it in a public place. But in that case, the important part is that it is crowded and it will not get wet in case of a rain.

On the end, each one of these methods is going to be met with some sort of natural resistance. But maybe one of the methods described up is going to help you pass it.

Flirting is Fun to Do, Unlike... [X-Men Fanfiction]

Erik and Charles came back, both looking angry as they removed their coats. Charles walked into the bathroom, the doors closing behind him with a boom.

Erik sat himself on the sofa, glaring at everybody would would fear to come close. Moira, Angel and Darwin were having enough self-perservance to not come closer.

Raven took the place opposite of him, and was just looking at him.

They stayed like that for a minute. Erik looked at her in anger. "Go away."

"What happened?" said Raven. When she did not get any reply, she continued. "Talking it out helps."

Erik glared at her, his eyes narrowing. Then he looked away. "I just don't get him."

Erik and Charles came into the bar. Charles sat himself on the chair, smiling at the waitress, waving with his head.

Erik notes she shook her head as she served the people on the other side of the bar. He took a seat, looking around for the next recruit. Cerebro worked well.

Charles said: "A whiskey for me and a lemonade for my friend." Then his voice got lower. "You can take that shot of sherry on that shelf on me, if you want."

Erik turned around to see what was happening. Charles was leaning forward, looking the waitress in the eyes. She just glanced at the shelf behind her.

"I don't think that is appropriate." The waitress said, as she looked at Charles with raised eyebrows. "If I didn't know better, I would say you want to get me to bed."

"Not my intention." Said Charles. He then flickered her cheek. "But for these eyes I could change my mind."

"For gray eyes? Not that hard to satisfy." She said, smirking.

"It is a groovy mutation. Reduction in OCA2."

Erik glared at Charles. That was getting too far. "Do you remember why we are here, Charles?" he said, his voice icy.

Charles looked at him and sobered. "Just the drinks please."

She left them and Charles turned back to the bar. He surveyed the people that were in it, looking for their current target.

But Erik was not about to let him off the hook. "Do you need to flirt with everybody?"

"Not everybody." said Charles, without turning to him. "Don't worry, I won't try it on you."

"Could you try not seducing the next person?"

"Could you try not being that tight?"

Charles pointed their next target out to Erik, who simply stood up and walked toward him.

He was in the late twenties, blond with blue eyes. "I am Erik Lenshierr."

He looked up at him, like eyeing him, then turned around. "Not interested."

Charles then walked to him, and he was in awe. "It is beautiful." he said, almost speechless.

The man turned to them, and now a question on his face. "What is?" Then realization came on his face and he leaned forward, getting interested.

Charles took a seat opposite him and he let his arm support his head, the two fingers on his temple. "You are an amazing man. I should just kidnap you."

The man laughed. "I would like to see you try."

"Oh, I would succeed." Charles said confidently as he leaned forward, his smile radiant. " - But for how long?" the woman behind them said.

Erik turned around to look at the newcomer. She was taller than Erik, twigging her long brown hair in her left hand. "Too bad you are not interested in the body part of it. I would not mind a threesome from time to time."

Charles bowed. "It is how I am, madam. It just has no appeal." He kneeled in front of her and kissed her arm. "All luck to you."

Then he grabbed Erik's hand and dragged him away. "We are leaving."

"We had not even told them..."

"They already know." Charles said. "The refusal on the beginning was about our preposition."

They spent the rest of their drive home arguing.

"Oh." said Raven, as she looked at the bathroom. "That explains it."

"What?" Erik said, still pissed off.

"Nothing." Raven had that enigmatic smile on her face. She said. "Charles. Would you date me, if I allowed you to read my mind?"

"Still my sister." Charles came back from the bathroom and sat down next to her, taking a strain on Raven's hair into his hand. "I do think the red suits you better than blond."

Erik stood up and walked out of the room.

The Eugenics' Drink [Fiction]

Looking at the city from the bird's view, a mass of people could be seen, all going in the same direction like a hordes of ants, that realized where the honey is spilt. Or like a river, unable to be stopped or derailed by anything.

Some of the people were trampled by the mass, their bodies stepped on at the people wanted more. None of the people doing the stepping had even looked down to notice. They moved forward too quickly. Any that did not, only joined the fate of the ones already fallen.

Nina was looking down at the people, a frown on her face. Her body was tense. What was happening down there, was not right.

"Breathtaking, isn't it?" Renata leaned forward, a smile on her face, as she leaned on the glass and looked down at the spectacle. "A miracle of science."

Nina walked away, stopping at the table and taking a couple of big breaths. She could not let her sister anger her now.

"I am sorry." As Nina turned, Renata was now looking at her, leaning on the glass. She smiled. "I know you don't like to have science associated with..." She simply glanced down to the mass of people.

"No, I don't want my neuroscience studies used to brainwash people, Renata!"

They were both quiet for a moment, both surprised at the outburst. Renata started to laugh, her tears coming from her eyes.

"Is that why you were sulking?" She wiped the tear from her eyes. "And here I thought it was something serious."

Nina strode to Renata, grabbed her for a collar of her shirt and pushed her to the glass. "You think this is funny?"

Renata looked down, still a smile on her face. "No. It is magnificent. New Eugenics order, brought forth by your knowledge. Like I said, breathtaking."

"I could kill you for it."

"You won't. You simply don't have it in you."

Nina narrowed her eyes, but then she released Renata. She just stood there, her head bowed, her hand over her eyes.

Renata touched her shoulder, and she turned. She took a glass of champagne, that Renata was offering her.

"To new order?" Renata asked with what appeared to be hope.

"Whatever." Nina said, as she toasted to her, but she did not drink it. "Just tell me one thing. Why?"

Renata took a sip of her glass, and she looked up. "Umm... Remember how we used to discuss the lack of intelligence in people?"

Nina slowly nodded. "So you tested it."

"And proven right." Renata tapped her glass. "I wrote everything in small print on every drink."

"Yet it still happened."

Nina took a glass and quietly gulped it all down. She made a grimace. She never liked any alcoholic drinks.

"For this, I am truly sorry." Renata now looked remorseful, as she looked at Nina. "It is probably the only thing that I am going to regret."

Nina realized that she could no longer summon the will power to attack her sister. She will soon unable to summon the will power to even care. Only the area for smell with the area for pain will be able to phrase her desires now. Desires that other people will be able to manipulate. That Renata will be able to manipulate.

"You are the only one that could stop me." Renata came to her and hugged her. "I am sorry that you are too honest and direct that you did not. I am sorry you did not have the determination to."

Nina was limp in her arms, not moving and not reacting at all.

Jobless Santa [Fiction]

The parents were putting the gifts under the Christmas tree. There put there a pile of different ones, wrapped in all the colours.

The turned the lights out. The lights on the tree were the only ones.

An hour later a woman in red appeared. The tree shook to welcome her. She waived at him.

She looked around and saw the gifts under the tree. "I guess I don't have any work to do here either."

With this words she turned around and disappeared in the cold wind.

Ups and Downs [Fiction]

Delilah looked up in horror, as she saw, but not heard, the destruction of the space city above their heads.

The people she knew, the home she built ... It was all gone again.

She felt the steadying hand on her back, but she needed time, before turning around.

The young man behind her solemnly nodded. She took a deep breath.

She might have lost everything, but they also lost something important - their only hope. Maybe she could try again here. Building a new home.

She failed to smile at him.

As long as she is not too broken yet.

Society's Poison [Fiction]

People were running manically to get the new drink. Millions of them just down there. View of them from above was breathtaking.

Nina offered a glass of champagne to Renata, joining her.

"Congratulations. Only you could achieve that. Eugenics at their finest."

Renata raised the glass to her nose. "I put a specific fragrance to all the drinks."

Nina sighed. "I had to try to stop you. What you are doing is wrong."

Nina could start to feel she freewill starting to slip.

"I am sorry." Renata looked away. She could not look at what her sister had become.