#//It is a very common occurence to see them practicing and sparring one another

[kibo-no-akademi]

🤜Roughhousing🤛

Hanno just having a good ol' sparring session with Kazuya (@class-of-79)

[oristromboli]

If You Be Our Star, We’ll Be Your Sky | 6

Chapter Title: Punishment

The fierce sounds of arguments melt into clashing weapons in the Liyue landscape as all frustrations are released in bloody fury.

Punishment is thus dolled out on the sore, sore loser.

(Smut this chapter: Reader/Childe, M/F)

(Warnings: rough and angry sex after a fight, power dynamic struggles, being very very mean to each other - not a fluffy first time between them given that it's Childe and his implied mission. please be careful if this isn’t your cup of tea!)

CW: the first segment describes Childe making a hunt! Canon-typical violence, but just in case: one paragraph starts with "Childe kneels down - " and another one is "With a firm - "

Childe takes a slow breath in, and on his exhale, releases the arrow, watching as it sinks into the boar’s side.

Damn, he was never good with a bow. He strolls leisurely up to the animal, frowning when he notices the pitiful struggle as it tries to move despite the mortal wound. Poor thing thinks it still has a chance.

Childe kneels down and reaches out to the pig, running his hands gently through the matted fur. He watches as its breathing becomes labored; each unsteady drag likely pushes its lungs against the arrow. How many ways did he watch the abyss deny death to the unfortunate prey wandering in? A quick death was mercy never granted in that suffocating darkness.

He feels black armor fighting to grow from his skin, feels the electricity pulling him taut as he smiles softly, running his hand up to cup the boar’s head.

With a firm twist, Childe snaps its neck and the body goes limp.

Blood from the arrow wound trickles onto his gloves, and he raises his hand to lick it idly away. His frown returns when he realizes that the flaming need in him is barely sated.

Warbled and demented noises creep up towards him from between the cracks in the earth.

Grunting, he hoists the animal over his shoulders and starts walking again while whistling a lullaby.

 ---

 Birds call overhead while the wind rustles through the emerald leaves around you in this little outcrop by the river. The sun felt warm, kissing the back of your neck gently as you took in your surroundings, counting each fish that crested the surface as they leaped further upstream.

Though you normally take these moments of isolation to regain your internal serenity, you didn’t necessarily hate the fact that Childe insisted on tagging along. Yet, confusion still wrung your head as to why he came along on a commission so far off the beaten path. Even Aether would complain at such a wildlife excursion.

“Hey girlie,” Childe calls, grinning wide and bubbles up a rare, genuine laugh when he sees your surprised expression. “I got lunch!”

Your eyes bulge as you watch him carrying one of the largest boars you’ve ever seen with a skip in his step like the animal weighed nothing. When he drops it unceremoniously to the ground, you hear the resounding thud and decide firmly that yes, Teyvat’s animals are ridiculous.

Childe cracks his knuckles and materializes his hydro knife to kneel at its side, and you just… You just watch.

Some deeply primitive part of you is hooting like a shameless dog as you watch him handle the meat with ease. Good man. Strong man. Can feed and protect.

“ – girlie, hey, you listening?”

You shake your head and blink at him. He starts laughing and gestures to the fireplace. “O-oh, right!” In a flash, you turn your back to him to hide the rising heat to your cheeks. “Um… That’s a lot of meat, you know.”

“Well, nobody ever complained to me about that, pretty bird.”

Nevermind. Big, strong man gone. “Why are you always cracking jokes? It’s like you never take things seriously.”

Childe pauses for a moment, stilling his hands. He never looks at you before he resumes skinning the boar, though you recognize the flash of a bygone memory nonetheless. “Nothing wrong in trying to get people to laugh occasionally in this shithole of a world. What else can you do? Tell your siblings that this place isn’t the fairytale they grew up believing in?”

You swallow and nod. Some time passes, and as you finish setting up the makeshift stove, it occurs to you that… There’s two of you. And one very big, very fat pig.

You’ll need a bigger fire.

“Hey, how do you plan on cooking this?”

“You’ll see.”

 ---

 An hour later and you’re in awe at how good the food is. The meat is practically melting off the bone as you eat the roasted pork, slight drool dribbling down.

Childe just stares as you lick your lips. “Did you learn this in Fatui boot camp or something?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, voice a pitch lower. “Closer to the ‘or something’ part though.”

Idle chatter starts between you two, soft banter and long talks about nothing. You ask about his past, he gives curt answers and you do the same, but there’s this silent understanding between you two about it. There’s little to say on the matter as neither party wants to remember. At least that’s something you have in common with Childe.

“So, along your travels,” he starts, wiping his mouth with a crimson handkerchief. “Did you come across any gods? Besides our resident funeral consultant, of course.”

“A few,” you reply. “Some also stepped down to join mortals too, but in those lands, they gave up their full divinity instead of just the title.”

“Why anybody would ever give up power willingly is beyond me.”

You laugh, though it sounds more vindicative than you intended. “Don’t you know? The gods envy mortals because their lives are fleeting and any moment can be their last. It’s all the more beautiful to them.”

Childe narrows his eyes. “Who said that? Seems to me the gods here don’t really care for us.”

You smile bitterly. “Yeah, I can see your point. The gods in Teyvat are different, but what about Zhongli? Don’t you trust him?”

“Ha, I trust him to pursue his own self-interests. If they align with mine, then great, there’s no problems between us. He’s reliable and stubborn. Shockingly, he has my honest loyalty, and I trust I can predict his next move.”

“Always the tactician.” You both chuckle at the thought. “I would’ve thought there was more than that.” You pray he doesn’t realize how you test the waters, and with the way he looks in the distance, you’re safe.

“You’re not wrong. I care about him. He drives me insane, but come hell or high water, he’ll be my friend to the bitter end.”

Friend. Your heart throbs again, though in deliverance or bewilderment for their strange relationship, you’re not sure.

“With your powers, were you ever seen as one?” Childe says, breaking your thoughts.

“A god? Sometimes, though only if people haven’t seen real divinity. We were also called demons. Unnatural. We keep to ourselves mostly and avoid too much trouble, but with our powers sealed, we don’t even have that going for us. We’re not really welcome among humans or divine, hah.” His eyes relax briefly, shifting to an indescribable emotion. There’s something in them, some light of understanding.

You hate it.

“Don’t act like you care,” you say, turning away and hugging yourself. Yeah, you know you’re being unfair, but you can’t handle Childe’s pity at the moment. He sighs as he tosses his leftovers over his shoulder and tries putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey – “

“Don’t.”

“I don’t care. Look at me,” he says, tone sharp and commanding you to listen. During easy exchanges, it became so easy to gloss over the fact that Childe is, indeed, a general of the Fatui.

He’s all but glaring down at you, matching your petulant stare. “What is with you? I’ve been trying to fix things between us, but I’m starting to feel like I’m the only one. This goes both ways, you know.”

“Us? There is no us, Childe. It’s just you. It’s always been about what you want,” you seethe. Stars, you sounded so much like a kid, but some sick part of you is enjoying this. All your words are underhanded and you both know it. “Did you even care? At any point, any at all, did you care?”

His blue eyes slowly widen as realization dawns on him. “Ah. You’re still mad about that. About me using you, huh?”

“What the f – Yes, I’m still mad! Congratulations, you’ve got a pair of eyes. Don’t you know that I – nevermind.”

“No, say it,” he says, placing both hands on each of your shoulders now and caging you in. His face leaves no room for argument as he says your real name. “Say it. Don’t back out now.”

“Stars, you stupid, selfish son of a – “

“Hey, don’t you bring my mother into this,” he says, though a lopsided grin works its way onto his face regardless.

“Very funny, Childe. I just… I kept it, you know? It’s no Mr. Cyclops, but it’s still mine,” you say, looking down. His eyes flick to the starconch dangling from your journal.

“You didn’t have to,” he murmurs, tightening his grip on your shoulders.

“Of course I did. I made a promise to you, and I have a feeling you’re the type to actually cut my pinkie off.”

“Ha. Who’s being funny now?”

You shake your head. “My question still stands: did you care? I’ve forgiven you – you know that – but I’m mad because… I need to know if our friendship was...”

When you look up again, he’s – oh holy – when did he get so close? His deep blue eyes are resolute and you’re holding your breath. Childe is close enough that you can practically feel the heat radiating off of him as his lips parts. “Honestly? I didn’t at the time.”

Oh. Of course not.

You close your eyes as you feel your heart plummet to your stomach. Great. Just fantastic. Nothing can get worse than this.

“But now…”

His fingers gently grab your chin and lift up as he tilts his own down at you. “I can’t remember that time without guilt. When I saw how Teucer showered you all with adoration, it just reminded me of what we had.”

“What we had? What was that? Friend? Enemy? Sparring partner?” You scoff and lean out of the space he made that threatened to suffocate you. “I don’t want to believe a word you’re saying, because even though I’ve been honest every step of the way – “ You pull his right hand off your left shoulder and lock a pinkie with it. “ – I can guarantee that you haven’t.”

Do you feel a sense of joy when you release his hand with a glare?

“You’re no better than the gods you hate.”

When he has the gall to look offended?

Yeah, you do, and know what? Fuck him.

Suddenly, your hand is harshly yanked up as he leans close again, locking a pinkie before you can escape. “You don’t want to believe me? Fine. But don’t pretend you wouldn’t do the same for your duty if push came to shove. At least this time I had the decency to tell you why I’m here, why I’m ‘using’ you again. You beat me to it though, or did you forget?”

Childe sneers, fury now raging in those watery depths. “I’m not mad, I’m happy that you’re as shrewd as you are strong. Yes, I didn’t care then. Yes, I care now, even if I don’t regret it. I want to leave that in the past because today, this moment, is all that matters. C’mon, eye for an eye.”

“What are you even talking about?” You’re seething now, matching his frustration. Seriously, he can’t spout this crap and expect you to suddenly understand. “I am not doing this with you, to you, whatever ‘this’ is. Despite being upset, you’re still my friend.”

“No, we weren’t just friends and you know it,” he growls. “Or enemies. So just give the word and get it over with, comrade. Fight me, use me, do something and get it out of your system.”

He’s… He’s crazy, he’s just insane, you have to get out of here. You swiftly stand and pull your hand away, staring down at him. “I said no, Childe. Not everything is a battle. I can’t believe you… You would think that. Think that I’m no better than the people who treated you like some pawn.”

You sigh and turn away, but your hand is yanked behind you again. May the stars give you patience.

When he turns you, he’s looking at you with a familiar glint as his lips curl. It’s the same expression he wore in the aftermath of Osial.

“Don’t you dare compare yourself to them. You aren’t one of those out-of-touch bastards. I just… I wasn’t sure what else to do to get you to believe me.”

Who would’ve thought a Harbinger could be so maudlin. Torpor replaced your irritation and quiet resignation flickered in your mind. Why you still bickering with him? It’s pointless.

You take the hand holding you and bring it up to the center of your chest.

He freezes and stares at his hand, breathes growing shallow and quick.

“This is going nowhere. Leave it in the past, right? There’s always more to argue over, ha.”

When you squeeze his hand, you smile at him, meeting his bloodthirsty eyes. “You’re right, Childe. Let’s get this out of our system.”

You don’t want to, you really, really don’t, but seeing the way his shoulders relax with barely contained relief shoves that regret aside. Childe was never the best with words – while his fellow Harbingers wove tale after tale with silver tongues, he simply collected others’ tongues with that sharpened silver.

As you both pace yourselves apart, you pull out your journal, long modified to be a weapon of sorts in this world. You know you are at a severe disadvantage as you were never great with other tools, so you had to find a way to either stay out of his range – difficult with his bow – or get close enough to his personal space to land a direct blow with energy gathered in your hands – difficult with his water shields.

Childe summons his hydro blades and begins twirling them, head bowed as he watches your every step. Slowly, you circle one another as both try to find weak points to exploit. His eyes are nothing short of predatory, and as his lips barely twitch into a snarl, you’re once again reminded of just who is in front of you.

Tartaglia, the Vanguard of the Harbingers, whose arrogant and ruthless madness could only be soothed on the battlefield. He’s not so much like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but a monster in wolf’s clothing.

On instinct, you immediately tilt your head as an arrow whistles past your ear, nicking the edge. You feel warmth trickle down and your ear stings something fierce as you start to dodge his incoming folly of arrows.

Is it too late to back out? Like, right now? You can handle the proverbial tail between your legs but you cannot handle –

You curse as water rises from the river to wrap around your ankle and shackles you when you drew too close. Cruel laughter bubbles to your left as you turn and see him charging, serrated blades out for the slaughter.

When he gets close enough to leap, nearly too close for comfort, you immediately summon a wall of stone in front of you. A soft thud echoes, so you form a fist and push the wall forward and away from you as the hydro chains break with Childe’s concentration shifting to his predicament.

Normally, you would be more prepared and calculating in your attacks, but the sheer ruthlessness of his onslaught took you by surprise.

Russet-colored hair juts out from the top as he leaps up and over, twirling in the air. With a clear opening, you reach out energetically to the smattering of small – yet sharp – stones around you to use as projectiles. He laughs as he slices each stone, but your goal of interrupting his trajectory is accomplished.

Childe lands a distance away as you sprint farther back, summoning small pillars of stone between you two as he immediately chases after. Though he’s chaotic, his movements are somewhat predictable; you summon one stone in a bluff to get him to move to his right to dodge, but immediately slam another stone to his ribs on his side from the direction he moved towards.

He grunts, but hardly flinches as you see him double his efforts in chasing you. Belatedly, you realize he’s been herding you towards the massive waterfall the entire time. Either you finish him here or he finishes you there with the elemental advantage.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re not as fast as Aether, this is why you stay on the backline, fuck –

Childe’s lance smashes the shoddy stones rising quicker in your panic to separate you two. Not your finest work, but it’s a bit hard to focus on their construction when you have a maniac sent from hell on your ass, thank you. When you see how he leaps from your most recent stone, utilizing the momentum in its rise to propel himself forward, you tuck tail and run.

Safe to say, two thoughts occur as he tackles you and his iron grip is wrapped around your body to restrict movement as you both tumble along the ground.

One, you’re absolutely torn between humiliation and feeling shameless as you realize your undergarments are soaked with his husky pants filling your ears. His head tucked against your own in the roll.

There’s definitely something wrong with you, you decide, since you were nothing short of terrified two seconds earlier.

Two, when your head slams against the ground and you open your bleary eyes, you realize how lovely the snapdragon flowers lining the riverbank are this time of year.

You hiss as you feel heavy thighs cage your arms to your side and look up. Childe is leering down at you and snarling as his right hand curls into a fist, purple lightning slowly dancing across it. His left hand glows blue as you recognize the sensation of the infamous riptide mark forming over your chest, eyes glazed over with concentration.

In a moment of paralyzing horror, you realize just how far from civilization you two are.

Ha, haha, good one Childe. He’s… He’s playing, right? This was just friendly brawling. Ha. Oh shit.

He’s not slowing down.

When his hand clamps on your shoulder to still your frantic movements, you whine – high and feeble – at the pain blooming from his grip. For a split second, he falters as his eyes regain clarity, hand loosening a fraction to no longer being unyielding. You take the opportune distraction to flick your hand and throw a stone to his chest.

It’s not much, not without the power of your book – now discarded somewhere – but it does the job as he is knocked to the side and off of you.

In the action, you scramble to keep with the flow and slam him on his back, perching on his chest as your hands glow with accumulating geo energy.

Seeing his soft pants, a sparkle in his eyes, and how blood trickles down his forehead, the shattering in your heart is deafening when you realize how young he looks. His laughter is wet and harsh as his arms are splayed.

“Do it,” he grunts. “End the fight, ‘cause I won’t stop.”

No. No, you’re not doing this.

“Aw, is little birdie too scared?”

You lower your hand and wrap it around his throat, and stars, is his grin growing?

“Come on, just do it – “

“Shut up,” you hiss, leaning forward. “Stop it Childe, I’m not punishing you.”

“What if I want you to?”

You freeze as your mouth parts in a silent gasp, his expression never faltering. When you jump back, you grind against something hard and insistent against your ass, and oh. Was this his plan all along…?

Childe’s hands fly to your hips and pull you down, and oh fuck, a moan fumbles from your lips before you harshly cut it off. Your eyes glance down to see his hooded eyes and he’s panting as he watches you. “Pretty bird is suddenly backing out now? So weak, you won’t even take your venge – “

His words are muffled as you lean forward and kiss him, but you yelp when you feel sharp teeth suddenly bite your bottom lip. Something angry twittering in you possesses you to reach into his hair and fist it, yanking his head up to meet your irritated gaze. When he moans again, loud and shameless and grinds against your core, you’re seized by the same fierce need.

“You’re sick,” you say as your tongue darts out to taste a hint of blood.

For some reason, those words still him as his eyebrows furrow slightly. “I know.”

Stars, you hate how he stares you down, daring you to do something about it. You hate how it feels like it was your fault, that crack in his shield as you see your own shocked eyes reflected in his ocean blues. They flicker between yours, and that something whispers in you again: for whatever reason, he wants to be punished.

Maybe that’s how he gets his sick kicks. Yeah. That’s it.

(You shove aside any lingering doubts.)

You pull him to you this time, kissing him as you simultaneously begin a slow, rhythmic roll of your hips against his throbbing bulge. When Childe’s mouth parts in a strangled moan, you take the opportunity to dive your tongue into his and hum in approval as he rubs his hands along your thighs.

As you part, a thin trail of saliva stained red with blood connecting you two, you lean back and smirk at his whine from the loss of contact. Instead, you lean back and arch your back to apply more pressure to his bulge. “You’re such a challenge sometimes,” you murmur, scanning his features.

Childe moans, ragged and hoarse, as his hands find purchase on your hips. “Please,” he replies desperately.

“When was the last time someone put you in your place?” you say as your hands slowly trail down to his chest and meticulously begin undoing each button. Each time your nails scrape his skin, the contact is minuscule but enough to hitch his breath.

“N-not since the Tsaritsa,” he whispers, keening as you dip your fingers beneath his jacket to open it fully, baring his pale chest. “The people in Liyue are too… Let’s call it traditional in bed, hm? A bit too tender.”

You both snicker (unknowingly at the same man), but his laughter is cut off as you lean down to kiss along each scar littering his chest. There is a smattering of slashes and burns, enough to paint a picture of a life hard-won and deserving of his name.

When you ghost your lips back up, you pause at a pale, crescent-shaped… Is that a bite mark? You raise your hand slow to that juncture between his neck and shoulder, and you feel blue eyes watching you intently. As you trace it, you murmur, “What’s this? Did a lover leave this? Doesn’t seem very becoming of a Liyue native.”

Childe releases a puff of air instead of a laugh and rolls his head back. “Let’s just say it’s a trophy for the one time I managed to get a stupidly sentimental man to realize I’m not fragile on my last night here. He even apologized for it.”

Huh. You choose not to comment on the strange memory, but instead, opt to kiss the scar lightly. Childe openly moans, breathes becoming shallower as you move down the expanse of his creamy abdomen from there.

Gloved hands fly to your head and grab. His shallow thrusts against your chest halt when you lift away from him, glowering at him to stop. Childe’s eyes narrow, but when he tries again, you lie your palm flat against his bulge and push down.

Childe cries out at the border between pain and pleasure, and good, that fucker needs to learn when to stop.

Oh, gods, when did you get a mean streak? Except, when you lay your eyes on the Fatui again, memories of each time he’s pushed your buttons surface, directly compromising your promise to Aether to be kind to the locals in Teyvat to expedite finding Lumine.

Yeah, Aether isn’t here right now. You can make a special exception.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” you grunt and you lean up again, choking back laughter when you see how his eyes widen at your abandonment. Ha. “Maybe I’ll go slower and, how is it called, ‘make love to you like the people in Liyue? Maybe I’ll stop pursuing you like this, where none else dared challenge the almighty Harbinger, huh?”

Admittedly, the lust in you skyrockets when you see how he tries putting on an intimidating façade again, yet the flush across his face and chest absolutely ruins it. Oh man, you can keep doing this all day.

Only… When the devil smirks at you, your heart begins hammering.

“Oh? Maybe you should,” he pants, and you pointedly look at his erection now forming a slight damp spot on his pants. “Tch, but don’t tell me you’re not curious. You’re too fucking nice all the time, you’d hate that slowness as much as I would.”

Irritation seers through you again as you suddenly – and perhaps unnecessarily roughly – grab his pants, purposefully dragging your nails along his skin as you begin to pull it down. “What makes you think I’d hate it?” you huff.

Childe aids in your struggle, shimmying his pants down and off as he kicks off his boots while you clamber on top of him again.

“Come on,” he sneers, snaking his right hand around your neck to pull you closer while his left makes begins to slide down your belly. When he leans closer, he pauses short of kissing you and stays like that. “Don’t you want a taste?”

“You – “

Fuck, you didn’t realize how he distracted you until one finger brushes your clit and slides along your folds. Fuck, fuck, you hate how he drinks in your quiet and strangled moans as it begins to slowly dip into you. When you feel something smooth and cold instead, it hits you that he never took off his gloves.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he coos and rolls his hips upwards to grind against your ass. You grit your teeth, though Childe takes this moment to kiss you again and suck on your bottom lip, massaging you all the while. It’s… It’s not enough, damn him.

"Give me a safeword," you rasp as you break apart. "Right now. So I know this isn't a trick up your sleeve."

He grunts and leans forward again to press his lips against your nose, though he pauses in his ministrations. "This isn't -"

"Childe."

"... Calla lily."

You nod and sigh, tilting your head to the side.

The hand formerly around your neck slides down to pull down your clothes, allowing more access as it pools around your thighs.

You pull away entirely – ah, there goes his fingers – and stand, beginning to strip. As he watches you, you see how his jaw clenches, impatient and yet thoroughly enjoying the impromptu strip dance.

When you’re bare, you begin to walk over and have to bite back a whimper at how Childe’s tongue darts along his lips as you approach. Hmm…

You pad over to his head and grab a fistful of his hair again as you kneel by his head, concentrating on how his face contorts with pleasure again.

“What makes you think you’re so special, huh?” you gruff at him as he grins up at you in that wicked, wicked way.

“Because I’m all the sins you never had the courage to commit,” he responds daringly.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Oh, stars forgive you if you (not so) accidentally strangle this man. You swing one leg over his head and pull it up as you lower yourself. At least he needs no further instruction as he immediately rests his hands on your thighs and tilts his head to lap at the wetness dribbling down.

Let it never be said that Childe didn’t know how to use his mouth, because fuck, the eagerness he begins devouring you out with is nothing short of a man approaching his last meal. You become hyper-aware of your wanton moans, how you grind your core further along his lips while his aching cock is behind you, devoid of all attention.

When his tongue dives deeper between your folds, truly fucking you with it, you slam a hand behind his head to prevent your fall. Fuck, you can’t fucking think –

Your thighs are trembling as the pleasure shoots through you, building with each rock of your hips. It’s slow and steady, but you feel yourself surfing the rising pleasure when you mentally short-circuit. At some point, he crept one hand under you and – without warning, the asshole – plunged two fingers deep as he turns his attention to your clit.

It’s pathetic how you mewl, it really is, and like a bloodhound, Childe senses your weakness. He doubles his efforts while humming against your clit, vibrating it with the motion, and fuck, you feel it coming, it’s, it’s –

You open your mouth in a silent scream as it shoots up, pulling you taut and your muscles stiffen. It’s like you’re a bow strung along and Childe is the man just using you like this.

Stars, he needs to stop, he needs to – stop it, it’s too much –

“Stop, Childe, fu-ah – “ When you frantically roll off of him, falling on your side, he merely turns and grins. It’s absolutely sinful how he slowly licks each finger that was knuckle-deep in you, never breaking contact.

You wish he’d say something because for once, he’s not actually talking. He just. He followed your initiative and was promptly shut up, drinking you in. You don’t know what to say to him, so you opt instead to reach over and grab his scarf, yanking him up.

He follows, nearly as eager as a pup, and crawls to you on all fours as you sit up. Childe blinks at you, the smile never wavering as his eyes wander to your chest rising and falling with soft pants. Something in you, some small and evil voice whispering on your shoulder tells you to ruin this man, this arrogant warrior still clad in his Harbinger jacket and gloves and mask –

“Your mask,” you gruff. Childe tilts his head (oh no, that was cute), but follows your command nonetheless.

When he hands you the item, you fidget slightly and fight back that creeping uncertainty. Fuck it, you’re the one punishing him, so why are you getting embarrassed?

In a desperate bid for confidence, you hum and refuse to look at him, pretending to inspect the mask as if just now seeing it. A shaky breath escapes him as he watches you, so you firmly pull on the scarf like it’s some leash. “You always get your way, don’t you?” you hum.

When silence meets you, you yank on the scarf again. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” comes the immediate reply. You smile softly and look at him, look at his wide eyes as you’re met face-to-face. Each of his arms has settled next to your sides as his legs hold himself over you.

You hazard a glance at his cock and smile at how it twitches in response, leaking driblets of pearlescent pre-cum and just throbbing red. Oh, he wants it so badly. “Beg for it,” you say, looking back into his eyes.

Childe narrows his own, gritting his teeth in a snarl. “Beg for it,” you repeat slowly, “or we stop here. Your choice.”

“Please,” he mumbles, and… Oh, oh is he shy? Pink begins to dust the tips of his ears as he dips his head.

“Please what?” you tease and he huffs.

“Please, let me… I want it, I want you.” Each word is punctuated and forced out like it took all of his willpower to hold himself back from taking you then and there.

Some quiet, dark part of you is slightly disappointed he didn’t.

Well, you’re merciful, and he did say please. You lean forward and tilt your own head, catching his lips in a kiss entirely too soft – and yet, Childe doesn’t complain, only sighing in relief as he moves his head with yours.

But this is still supposed to be a punishment, you remind yourself vehemently. That lustful side of you rears its head, screaming at you to stop whatever it is you’re planning because Childe is here, on his knees and begging to fuck you.

But this is still supposed to be a punishment. Damn it.

Childe seems to recognize the idea swirling in your eyes when he pulls back and he frowns. You smirk back and slide his mask into place, thoroughly relishing in how his breath hitches seeing his own face staring back at him.

“You’re enjoying this too much.”

He jerks his head back like he’s been slapped. “Oh, you’re kidding me, right? You just made me beg, you charlatan.”

“Exactly,” you chirp back. You push him back while retaining your hold on his scarf and run your hand down his abs, pausing at the naval above his aching cock. He moans when your nails dig in there and he spreads his legs wide to allow you to move closer. When you finally, finally grasp his cock with a firm squeeze, a strangled groan is wrenched from his chest from somewhere high and deep like he wasn’t expecting the noise either.

“I’m still mad at you, so this is all you get. Nothing more than this, not even spit.”

Gods, how badly do you want to weep and take it back, but you have a point to prove, damn it.

Childe opens his mouth to protest, but you pull on the scarf to effectively cut off his air, watching how his eyes haze over with pleasure when you do an experimental pump. Is this… Is this how you looked when you fought for dominance with Zhongli?

Oh, you really can keep doing this.

Slowly, you shift forward more until you’re pressed close enough to lean next to his head as you gather the pre-cum leaking in torrents to twist around the head of his cock. “Does the Harbinger like this?”

Childe releases another strangled moan and nudges his head against yours, bucking his hips in demand for you to just go faster. You don’t, you’re mad at him, but the insistence is cute. That infamous earring of his dangles in front of you, tantalizingly close, so you grab it with your teeth and pull sharply as the pressure from your hand increases.

Childe cries out in a mixture of shock and pleasure, hands flying to your back to pull you closer to him as you release it to begin whispering filth into his ears.

With each movement, each tug and twist and sin tickling him, you watch as he slowly becomes unraveled and pulled from the seams. The contrast between you two, how you watch with startling clarity as Childe loses his sanity in chasing after that edge, serves only to thrill you. Your core starts to throb again, practically weeping with your own slick as you fight back the instinct to mount and ride him to hell here and now.

As his thighs tense and his breathing drawing quicker, you pause abruptly to stop him from cumming and – oh shit – he yanks your hair back as he growls in your ear, “Don’t you dare – “

Wish granted. You laugh openly and release his scarf to cup his jaw, leaning forward enough that he can catch the whites of your eyes through the slits in the mask. “Then don’t look away.”

And, blessedly, you resume your ministrations with a sudden increase in speed that has Childe panting so beautifully, so raggedly as he whines at the sight of his own mask staring him down. His hips rock into your hand needily, clinging to your back like his life depended on it.

“Ah, f-uck – “ Childe’s words are cut off as he flushes red and you feel warmth spill over your hand. You never pause as you continue milking his cock, jerking it well past the point of pleasure and deep into oversensitive pain. His blue eyes are squeezed shut as a string of Snezhnayan curses tumble from his lips, clinging to what shreds of euphoria are left before you slowly stop.

His chest is heaving, each exhale hoarse and dry as he buries his head against your neck.

Huh, what does a Harbinger taste like…?

As you idly bring your hand up to lap at the cum, you smirk behind your mask when you hear Childe’s breath hitch and he begins mumbling something indistinctly, watching you all the while.

When he’s this close, you can nearly count each freckle dotting his cheeks and nose, and… And you can almost draw constellations between them.

After a moment, he leans back to stare at you before pulling off the mask. When you both see each other again, a lazy smile tugs at his lips before he looking you up and down, then towards the scene around you.

“… Well, this is unsanitary.”

What – what the fuck? You bark out a loud laugh and Childe joins you, though his sounds huskier still as he recovers. “That was a little mean of you to keep going,” he says, pouting when you snort.

“You wanted it.”

“I wanted to fuck you,” he grumbles. You shrug and try to stand, though admittedly you’re no better than a colt with how your legs shake.

Eventually, you manage to waddle your way to the river and take slow steps into the freezing waters. Fish dart between your legs, barely brushing by with slick flutters, and you sigh as you force your muscles to relax.

Some time passes before you hear movement and splashes behind you, though you don’t turn to meet him. If Childe is upset with you, he can deal with that himself, you’re too busy trying to find some peace.

You just need a hard reset. Just once, you need to get one merciful moment alone.

Still, that wish remains ungranted as strong muscles wrap around your front and you jolt at the sudden contact, but more so when you feel Childe rest his head against the back of yours. Neither of you move, opting to instead sway lightly with the currents drifting by. Each wrist is wrapped in a leather brace with a Vision inlaid in the right while the Delusion is in his left.

When you glance down at the water, you suck in a breath upon realizing he’s been staring at you through the reflection the whole time. Soft aquatic plants dance at the corners of your feet, brushing ever so slightly with each tug.

It’s nice, but something about the stillness sparks uneasiness in you. But… It’s not the kind you felt staring down Childe’s lifeless eyes seconds before he struck, no, this is different. This feeling left you feeling both heavy and light, clear and foggy like you were alone with the dawn breaking and somehow that fact makes it all the sadder.

You… You want this to last, you realize. Stupid. You’ve gotten yourself stupidly attached already, two for zero with these men in your life.

He sighs as one hand reaches up, tracing idly over your chest again. “Do you ever feel like it’s some game,” he begins delicately like each breath is an affront to the world around you.

“What do you mean?”

“These gods, these… Not-humans, I guess. The one that took Aether’s sister, the ones that laughed at you for not being good enough in your travels, the adepti that thought Liyue too fragile… Do you ever think it’s a game to them? Like we’re just puppets on strings?”

He whispers these words, writing them like clandestine letters, ones that will surely get him executed should the gods ever see yet he writes them all the same.

“Like the fabled strings of fate?” you reply, and his lips twist in a wry laugh. “I don’t know if it’s fair for me to answer, since I’m not…”

Human.

Childe hums, understanding the tacit sentiment. “Doesn’t matter, you were never welcome among the divine anyway, right?”

“As if the humans would welcome us instead.”

“I would. I already have.”

Without skipping a beat, Childe continues hastily, once again obscuring that something in his voice. “Do you think they understand us? Actually care about their people?”

You shake your head, a barely-there motion, and should any soul look upon you two now, surely they would never see how you squeeze his hands. “I don’t think gods understand true strength.”

You don’t know why, but those two words, that single combination seems to still Childe completely as he listens, utterly rapt with another memory flickering across his expression. At least, that’s what you think, judging from the reflections.

“Gods may shape the world and play with the pieces, but mortals are the ones living in it. I don’t think they remember that humans are not – “

“Things.”

Another beat of silence passes before Childe breaks it again. “They think we don’t understand anything just because we haven’t had an eternity behind us, ha. I don’t blame them, I think I’d take the opportunity to be immortal too.”

You frown and turn in his arms, coming face-to-face with him. “Why?”

“So I can finally make right everything that’s wrong,” he mumbles, placing his hand on your chest again. When you look down, you see how water tickles and caresses your skin – almost lovingly if you were so bold, but you’re not – as it forms a vague riptide mark. You feel cool hydro energy seep into your skin before disappearing entirely, though you suppose more elemental energy could always trigger its appearance once more.

Childe sighs again, massaging the spot from the mark before roving hands move to your shoulders, rubbing along them. When he looks at you again, your heart stutters at the glittering image of wide-eyed wonder and determination staring back at you – the sight of it renders you mute. A cheeky grin pulls his lips. “And more time means more journeys, right? When my plans are complete, I can finally put this all to rest and go adventuring.”

(You vow then to never tell him that Teucer long spilled these secrets to your motley group.)

And then. And then he smiles, though it’s all teeth and wicked intentions, and then you feel your heart race with sudden fear as the sweet moment left as soon as it arrived.

“You know comrade,” he begins charmingly (oh no), “I did warn you about one thing.”

“Y-yeah?” Oh no, you didn’t mean for that to come out as quiet and breathy as it did. Childe chuckles as he slides one hand to cup the back of your neck.

“That I won’t stop.”

That’s all the warning you get before your world is turned askew, everything blurring together in motions of blue and rippling colors.

This is… He’s taking you somewhere, you realize belatedly, this is how he escaped the Golden House. When his face materializes before yours, peering out of the water as the element obeys its master’s commands, he holds one finger up to his lips in a signal to keep holding your breath.

So you do. You hold as long as you can, eyes darting as the world passes by and you’re struck by the kaleidoscope of light as it ripples along the outside of this shell.

When Childe leans forward, slotting his lips against yours, you swear then that he meant to steal your breath.

Hard rock slams into your back suddenly and you break the kiss, gasping for air and flopping your hands about you for purchase. Air, hallelujah, there’s air –

You grumble at him, sulking at the unexpected journey as his drenched hair trickled droplets onto you. Childe rears his head back, roaring with laughter at your cross attitude, but you can’t hear it. As a matter of fact, you can’t hear anything really.

Wait, did he just take you behind the waterfall?

Amusement dances across his face as he watches you drink in the sights around, of how you two are in a small enclave behind the waterfall roaring overhead. It’s not much, probably two lengths of Childe’s body long and wide with temperatures freezing you to the bone.

So, why did he bring you back here –

You keen when he suddenly dips his head to kiss along your sternum, one thigh nudging your legs apart. His hot breath fans across your skin, licking a long stripe up your neck to your ears as he brings one hand up to squeeze one breast.

“Sweet girl is always so far away,” he whispers huskily. “Will you finally let me hold you?”

“Childe,” you huff, your soft breath cutting off into a moan as he pinches one nipple. His teeth graze your jaw, kissing along it and moving steadily towards your mouth. “All this time, you never needed to ask. You already had me.”

He groans, capturing your lips again with the barely constrained ferocity of a starved man as the hand fondling your chest moves down. Stars, you’re already so slick with anticipation; Childe moans appreciatively as one finger slides easily in, then two, then three.

“Fuck,” he mumbles. “Fuck, fuck, you’re so hot, sweet little thing.”

If you were thinking straight, you’d realize that Childe is whispering something about fair trade and equal punishment, is sinking his fingers knuckle-deep into you and ruthlessly finding that sweet spot in you with a single goal in mind. You encourage him further, opening your mouth and welcoming his tongue as he explores your mouth with near-invasive energy.

If you were thinking straight, you’d realize how his cock is already at attention and ready to spear you, how it waits patiently for you to cum first.

Oh, but you’re not thinking straight. You wail as his fingers press harder, palm now rubbing your clit while he nips along your jugular and scatters your thoughts. Childe shifts so he no longer needs his other hand to hold himself over you, and instead places it over your throat as he pulls back to stare into your eyes.

The devil grins at you. “Don’t look away now.”

“Ah – oh, Childe – “ His hands squeeze, tentative at first, then with more conviction – and a terrifyingly practiced technique – around your neck, cutting off just enough air to leave the images blurring around you. Fuck, fuck, you’re clinging to consciousness, holding onto that pleasurable spike for dear life and –

“Come for me, pretty girl,” he pants, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours and you wail. It comes out softer and quiet, like a lamb being laid bare before a wolf, and you’re shivering with the fuzzy pleasure blanketing your body. Calloused fingers work you over as he grins, murmuring praises as you come undone from his unrelenting pace.

Your orgasm is nothing fierce like when he ate you out, but as air steadily becomes harder, the pleasure refuses to fizzle out like the fireworks you felt earlier. No, it only builds and builds and builds like it refuses to let you go, dragging you through this sex-addled haze whether you like it or not.

“Stay with me now,” Childe grunts, dark hunger swirling in his eyes. “Come on, don’t black out on me now, that’s too easy. Do I have to be mean?”

What the fuck is he talking about –

You cry out in sheer panic and blinding euphoria as you feel light sparks dance along your clit. He’s using his fucking electro element, all fine control and just playing you like a fiddle while you writhe underneath him. You can’t take it anymore, this is too much to all once and impossible to describe, you can’t –

Childe blessedly releases his grip and you gasp in lungfuls of air for the second time in a short window; though his fingers slow, they don’t stop. He coos at your writhing underneath him, moaning with you as you ride out a second orgasm from his electro currents.

You’re biting your lip to stop from whining even more, but that must’ve irked Childe because he moves down to kiss you again, pulling your bottom lip away with his teeth. As the stimulation slowly pushes into pain, you hiss and swing your left leg up to kick him away.

Of course the fucker caught your foot and exploited the momentum to wrap it around his right shoulder, of course. “Pl-ease,” you cry out as tears prick at the corners of your eyes, the pleasure quickly becoming too much again. “Please!”

“Mm, you’ll have to beg for it,” he replies, too casually for a man whose fingers are working up a storm to bring you to a quick and merciless orgasm again. Your hands fly down to his wrist in a pathetic attempt to slow him, but he curls his lips in a challenge and speeds up, shifting closer to you to brush his cock along your cheeks.

Fuck, fuck – You cum again, though somewhere in you tells you that you never actually stopped. A last-ditch idea desperately hits you. “F-Fuck me!” you cry out, voice pitching a tune that’s dangerously needy. “Please!”

Childe laughs again, all cruelty and thrilled at your begging, but you can’t find it in you to give a damn, you just need him to stop fucking you with his fingers. You need a break.

But the Harbinger is a merciless god.

He hums as his fingers slowly, slowly withdraw and he makes a show of sucking each one clean before he takes his cock to line up with your entrance. As he does this, he tilts his head and looks at you again, pretending like he doesn’t see you plead for – for what, exactly? For more? For less?

And in a single thrust, he enters entirely into you. Two voices bounce off the walls, pitches varying but both as broken, and Childe immediately begins a harsh pace.

“Please,” you whine and he tilts his head again, grinning through each harsh thrust. He’s rubbing one hand along the thigh draped over his shoulder while the other holds your hips in a bruising grip.

“Please? You’re such a greedy thing, look at that, sucking up my cock like that.” Each word is punctuated with another harsh thrust, each word is met with your loud cries – and when he angles his hips enough that you can see the outline of it pushing against your naval with you on your back, you cum again.

The Fatui starts speaking in Sneznayhan again as you clamp down around him, squeezing and milking his cock for all you’re worth, but gods you can hardly care right now. Your back is surely going to be scraped raw with how you’re being dragged across the floor, but you fucking love it, love how pain and pleasure mix in some addicting cocktail you’re absolutely drunk on.

You make a long, anguished whine as Childe begins kissing along your leg and peppers your skin with nips to pierce that pleasurable fog. His words sound slurred, you’re willing to bet your life that he’s trying to call your name, but you’re not sure if it’s him or your perception that’s screwed up on this side of the river.

And then he’s laughing. The bastard’s laughing at your blissful misery.

Oh. Oh no no, no you’re not about to be humbled by some Harbinger –

“T-tartaglia!” you keen suddenly when a particularly fierce thrust hits you.

You both freeze.

Oh no. Oh shit. Cold panic rushes through you at that, at how you just admitted defeat by calling him out – and when he purrs your real name, low and husky and thoroughly vindicated, he knows it too.

“Pretty thing wants to wear my mask, but you forgot who’s fucking you like you wanted,” he snarls.

After he hoists your other leg over his shoulders, he presses his body into yours and folds you in half, the new angle devastating for your pleasure as he somehow reaches deeper. His hips start again, mercilessly hitting that spot deep in as his hands cage you in by your head. Childe leans in and nudges your head aside, brushing his nose along your cheeks. "What's the safeword?"

"C-calla lily," you murmur and he nods, turning to stare you down again.

When you try to look away, close your eyes, do something, one hand brutally squeezes your jaw to open your eyes again.

And it works. You gasp as he forces you to attention, forces you to address him as those dangerously blue eyes threaten to swallow you whole in the treacherous deep ocean. “Baby, look – hah, shit – look at me. Y-you want Tartaglia, huh? Isn’t that right?”

Your throat is betraying your mind, whining and begging and blabbering something in response as the grinding pleasure continues to drown you.

It hurts so fucking good as euphoria tears you apart, rips your insides as you start openly sobbing from the pleasure he’s dragging out, and the fucker has the audacity to shoot forward and press an open kiss to your tear-streaked cheeks. Chi- Tartaglia lets you claw at his back – hell, he encourages it with how he groans – and he torturously continues his pace.

You’re not sure if you have the energy to continue, so you smack at his back weakly as you mumble against his lips. Your cunt is squeezing and spasming around him in a vice grip, but he continues fucking you through it. “P-please, please c-cum, please, I don’t know if I can keep going,” you beg desperately.

“N-no,” he grunts and your heart sinks. “Fuck, pretty birdie is letting me finallyy – hah – fuck her, I warned you, I won’t st-hhop.”

“It’s too much,” you hiccup through the overstimulation and scream – your throat hurts with the force of it – as you feel electricity twist your muscles, clenching around his cock as white-hot plasma seems to seer you from the inside out. He moans in response, a low and gruff noise.

“Then suffer.”

And he keeps going.

 ---

 You never notice how he traces along a barely-there geo sigil with the smallest, briefest Cor Lapis glow beneath your navel. You never notice how it throbs in time with his thrusts, with each exertion of his elemental visions as if protective over your body in a lingering memory of whatever divine beast spurred its awakening.

You never notice how he grins.

 ---

 The Harbinger is a cruel and merciless god.

 ---

 He ruins you, thoroughly devastates you with a meticulous precision befitting the Vanguard of the Harbingers. You’ve been manhandled and manipulated into a myriad of positions until pebbles and scrapes litter both of your bodies. True to his word, you suffer through each orgasm he tears from you.

And fuck, do you love it.

Your back is to the wall as your hands are interlocked with his own by your head, hips rapidly thrusting you up and down against it as you wrap your legs around him for purchase while he nips your neck like a rabid dog.

Stars, you can’t concentrate, your eyes keep losing focus – and each time Tartaglia notices, he bites or thrusts or squeezes with that iron grip, electricity lacing each action jolting you to the present. He refuses to let you sink, refuses to let you black out as you’re dragged through hell and back by the devil himself.

“Please,” you weep as he rests his forehead against yours, dutifully watching how your chest bounces with the movement and how his cock is thoroughly drenched with your juices. The ease with which he slides in and out of you is downright criminal.

“T-tartaglia, please,” you whimper and his blues meet yours again. “Tartaglia… I want…”

A single eyebrow arches as he presses his body impossibly closers, now chest-to-chest as he cages you in and looms over you. “I want you,” you gasp between thrusts, “all of you, please. I – ah – I trust you, please.”

Tartaglia freezes for a split-second before groaning, raw and thunderous and wild as the storms that herald his coming, and when he kisses you, you feel wetness dribble down both of your cheeks.

In your haze, you weren’t aware you were crying again from it all, but a lot of things snuck past your attention.

You don’t know what happens after that, but you know it’s hot and wet as his body flexes over yours. Somewhere in your consciousness, you hear a voice cry out Tartaglia’s name, utterly shredded to ribbons from how it was abused.

Was that your voice?

His cock is throbbing in you as you feel him empty load after load of cum, more words in a foreign language wrapping you in warmth his tone lightens, his eyes grow soft and his lips curl up. It’s all you can do to squeeze your wet cunt around him, tightening around him to milk more out of him until Tartaglia is gasping desperately in time with the stutter of his hips.

Eventually, he slumps over you, draping his muscled body over yours with sheer exhaustion and sweat glistening in a thin sheen over his skin.

He whimpers your name, almost going unheard and the noise is halting as if he didn’t expect to say it either. Frankly, you’re too tired to unpack all the layers woven into that right now. So you don’t. Instead, you squeeze his hands as you start to feebly sing softly in your native tongue.

Childe freezes instantly as he sucks in a sharp breath. “What is that?”

“Hm? My people’s language?” you respond and he nods dumbly. “Sorry, probably sounds bad.”

“No,” he mumbles, shaking his head enough that his auburn locks bounce lightly. “Just familiar.”

Huh? Whatever. He’s probably too blissed out to make sense right now.

You both stay like that for a time in a slow-going bid to steady your breathing. You… You never honestly expected this to happen when he invited himself along your commission. Not that you’re complaining, of course, it’s just… It’s not what you expected.

Some lust-addled part of your brain, utterly fucked out and blissful, is already planning another ‘excursion’ into these deep woods.

And then you start to giggle at the gooey mess pooling between both of you. Childe huffs against you and you feel his smile against your cheek. “What’re you laughing at, pretty bird?” he slurs out.

“Oh, just. This is just unsanitary.”

Childe just grunts, too tired to join your laughter, but that’s okay. Your bubbling joy is enough for the two of you in this little enclave behind the waterfall.

 ---

 Hours have passed, and somehow – through sheer and utter spite – you both manage to drag yourselves back to Liyue Harbor despite the protesting aches from your muscles. Nerve endings are set alight with each step, but judging from how Childe winces, he feels it too. Night has long fallen and you remind yourself to apologize to Aether and Paimon, since you said you’d be back by dinner at the latest.

Do you regret it though? Nope.

Eventually, you stumble (literally in your case, tripping over a rock in your lethargy) across Zhongli scrutinizing various wares on display with a careful eye.

Zhongli’s smile is brilliant and warm as he spies you two, immediately weaving his way through the crowd to make his way over. In a way, the movement is serpentine as he manipulates each person away. It’s fitting, really.

“I expected you two to be back much earlier,” Zhongli rumbles, though there’s no disappointment. He looks pleased to simply see you both safe and sound.

“Ah, it was a little far,” Childe chuckles as he rubs the back of his neck. “Y’know how it is.”

“Where are the others?” you interject, too tired to maintain any sane conversation. Or sanity in general. You need a bed and you need it now.

The former Archon tilts his head as he peruses through his memories. “I believe they moved to Wangshu Inn. They said that since you both took too long, we are to meet again at midday tomorrow near Jueyun Karst.”

You nod weakly and tune out their conversation, trying to muster what little energy you have left to begin the trek to get outside the city.

“I saw the most interesting thing,” you hear Childe say conversationally. The tone feels off, though. “Did you know geo sigils can stay on skin? I got a most intimate view of it! Even left a little hydro mark of my own,” Childe’s teasing voice continues with something else lacing the undercurrents of it.

Your heart sinks and you slowly turn around, thankful that in your brief glance at their faces, Zhongli was all-too distracted with Childe’s words to see you. However, when one eyebrow raises, you immediately duck your head.

Fuck. What the fuck. You’ll sprint if you have to, but for now, walking away is okay too.

“Oh?” You hear a curiously deep rumble from behind you as you slowly make your way out, but you can’t place the tone. Zhongli is as stoic as ever and you can’t get a read on him from his voice alone, oh no. “Is that so.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement, a fact, an observation, and it’s delivered so flatly you want to cry from sheer mortification and horror as your mind shifts into maximum overdrive with panic at all the worst possibilities.

What’s he thinking? What does either of them think of you now? Did you cross some unspoken line?

Well then! Now’s as good a time as any to flee.

“See you at Jueyun Karst!” you throw over your shoulder as you wave, but the words are broken since you’re shaking like a leaf in a fierce wind.

As you make your exit, you feel two pairs of eyes burning into your back as neither man says anything.

Haha! Terrific! That’ll surely help you sleep tonight!

 -

notes: 

i love how the 1.5 leaked cutscene says there’s a liyue saying that goes something like “waiting for rain to fall on earth once again” like hello?? metaphors??

[punkgrogg]

Bakugou has a big heart pt.1

Pairing: Bakugou/Ojiro, (eventually Bakugou/everyone)

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none :)

Summary: Bakugou is in his second year and he’s not very good at dealing with his emotions

Length: 2,306 words

Notes: I’m back guys :) I have lots of new ideas for fics and have a lot of new stories outlined along with finishing what I left off last year.

Bakugou groaned internally, Cementoss just seemed to be droning on and on today. The constant emphasis on safety seemed a bit overkill at this point, they’ve sparred for three classes in a row so far without so much as a sprain. He could feel the sweat accumulating around his forearms as he baked in his thick gym uniform. Today they were going to spar in the gym and he couldn’t wait to fine-tune his newly developed special move. He expanded on the basics of just his normal blast by trying to rapid-fire and it has worked well during his solo practice sessions but today he could see how well it held up during a mock battle.

Finally, his teacher started to pair everyone up together and he was only slightly disappointed he didn’t get paired off with icy-hot or pink cheeks. Instead, he was paired off with the Monkey. Maybe this would work out for the better; after all, he wanted to make sure his close combat skills stayed sharp, he thought as he and Ojiro were propelled upwards by Cementoss. Instantly the karate kid started to circle Bakugou, his tail whipping left and right. He lunged forward with a high kick and Bakugou feigned to the right and sent a blast towards Ojiro’s left leg to knock him off his feet but suddenly Ojiro’s body was fully supported by his tail as he spun away from Bakugou. The fight continued like a dance, where there was a lunge there was a dodge. Each one of the pair barely landed more than a glancing touch. Sweaty and frustrated Bakugou finally leaped back one last time and tried his new special move.

It happened in slow motion, Ojiro was standing with his back to the base of a higher tower where another duo was battling it out, but Bakugou hadn’t aimed as well as he thought and his blast instead went to Ojiro’s face instead of his torso. Two blasts back to back that plastered him to the rock wall. Bakugou stood there with his mouth agape, his hands facing down. Ojiro wasn’t getting back up, he had his face cradled in between his palms and his tail wrapped tightly around his knees as he dropped down into a kneeling position.

“Cementoss! Injury!” Bakugou screamed as loud as the lump in his throat would let him. He rushed to Ojiro’s side and tried to pry his hands off his face so he could inspect the damage. Ojiro’s skin was scorched red and blood was smeared across his cheeks. Bakugou flinched back when Ojiro hissed in pain. The golden blonde boy curled into himself and kept his face turned away. Bakugou’s heart fell through his ass, how could he do this to Ojiro? Ojiro was supposed to dodge. He was supposed to block the blast and keep going. How had it turned out this way? The blast wasn’t supposed to be any stronger than what he used of the regular. Oh no, he was sweatier than normal, did that make his offense stronger than normal? He fucked up. Ojiro was hurt because of him.

Aizawa and Cementoss quickly arrived at both shellshocked boys. Bakugou was frozen with a hand still clutching at Ojiro’s gi. Ojiro was hiding his face, Aizawa was able to connect the dots and that was where the injury had occurred. He helped the boy get to his feet as Cementoss tried to comfort a speechless and uncharacteristically limp Bakugou. Aizawa led Ojiro over to Recovery Girl’s station by the entrance of the gym. She soothed the tense boy as she cleaned his wounds then kissed him. All tuckered out from the forced healing Ojiro went limp in his chair and started to doze off. The rest of the class had been lowered down to ground level and Aizawa was able to see his students all in varying degrees of concern.

Cementoss’s soothing words seemed to pass through Bakugou’s head as if they were light and he was the invisible girl. He barely took stock of being pulled to his feet and the sudden silence as all of his classmates stopped fighting was lost on him. Instead, all he could focus on was the whine of pain that Ojiro had made when Aizawa had pulled him away. It echoed in his head and his stomach was knotted in anxiety.

When the whole class was lowered to the gym floor Kirishima made his way over to his best friend. He could see that Bakugou was a bit shook up, “Baku-bro, you good?”

His question went unanswered and he couldn’t help but be concerned for the usually explosively eloquent boy. Kaminari flitted over to his friends, completely oblivious to the situation. He sidled up to Bakugou, arm slinging across the mute boy’s shoulders in familiarity despite being warned against it numerous times in the past. “So, King explosion murder, you won today?” he teased leaning into Bakgou’s face, the furrowing of the barely visible brows finally hinted at Bakgou’s darkened mood.

“I lost control… Denki, he's hurt because of me.” Bakugou whispered in a voice so vulnerable that Kaminari barely registered that Bakgou called him by his first name. His affable smile faltered, he side-eyed Kirishima whose face was contorted into one of concern. This was new. Bakugou had only ever used marginally clever nicknames for everyone- so Denki wasn’t quite used to his friend using not just his name but his first name.

“Ojiro’s okay Bakugou, if he wasn’t then Recovery Girl would be rushing him into her actual clinic,” Kaminari said making sure his voice came across as soft as possible. Bakugou’s shoulders only slumped further.

Aizawa called attention to himself and quickly dismissed the class to their dorms, assuring them all that their classmate would be in tip-top shape. He watched as they all filtered out of the gym quickly, except one of his problem children- Bakugou. He could tell by the way the usually proud boy stood almost defeated, that he was blaming himself for Ojiro’s injury. He watched as the platinum blonde nervously made his way towards the makeshift clinic. Which was really just a table filled with bandages, antiseptic sprays, and a couple of chairs set to the side that currently housed one-tailed individual.

“He’s okay?” is the first thing Bakugou could say when he got close enough to see the golden-haired boy’s unscarred face. The knot in his stomach started to loosen but the guilt still held him hostage.

“Yes, I'm just waiting with him to make sure he makes it back to the dorms,” Aizawa affirmed before leaning against the wall heavily. “You know it’s not your fault right? These things happen, especially during training. Ojiro is one of our less injury-prone students but he’s had his fair share of Recovery Girl’s kisses.”

“I lost control- this wasn’t supposed to happen,” Bakugou whispered meekly.

Aizawa said nothing, just looked up to the ceiling deep in thought. Bakugou continued to watch over Ojiro protectively until Ojiro’s eyes fluttered open- then he pointedly and looked away. Ojiro glanced around his surroundings as he pushed himself into a sitting position. His teacher asked him a few questions before nodding and walking out of the gym while calling back to the two that they better be back in the dorms by dinner. Ojiro questioningly looked up at Bakugou who seemed very occupied with not making eye contact.

“Were you waiting for me?” Ojiro asked quietly, he and Bakugou didn’t really get along that well but over the last couple of weeks, they’d managed a simple camaraderie. He was touched that anyone had stayed to wait for him but he was especially touched that the snarkiest boy in class was waiting for him. By the slight flush on the pale boy’s cheeks, Ojiro felt as if he got his answer so he smiled softly before standing up. Correction- tried to stand up. Ojiro’s body was a bit too tired and he stumbled forward.

“Are you okay?” Bakugou exclaimed as he caught Ojiro by the shoulders. His heart was in his throat and even when Ojiro steadied himself Bakugou wouldn’t let go.

“I’m fine, just a bit drained. It’s not as bad as when I sprained my tail.” Ojiro joked, trying to lighten the mood of the room.

“Lean on me, I'll help you back to the dorm. We don’t need you falling over and needing another trip to Recovery Girl.” Bakugou didn’t wait for a response as he hoisted one of Ojiro’s arms over his shoulder and held him firmly at his waist.

“Alright, thanks, dude.” Ojiro could feel his face warming at the firm hand holding his hip. He stepped forward slowly and Bakugou kept pace and gently urged Ojiro on. It took them about ten minutes to get back to their dorm hall and by then, both were making small jokes.

“Hey guys, you’re finally back!” Mina yelled as they entered the room, a gaggle of girls camping out on the couches in the common room.

“Yeah, sorry for worrying you all.” Ojiro smiled sheepishly. Bakugou adjusted his grip on Ojiro and when the other tried to pull away ever so slightly, Bakgou pulled him closer. For some reason, he felt protective of the fatigued boy, and the thought of him not needing Bakugou’s help may have made his heart clench uncomfortably.

“Aoyama and Yaoyorozu are in charge of dinner tonight and she said something about couscous, I don’t really know what that is but it has to be better than the burnt rice she made last time,” Uraraka informed the boys, and Ojiro’s face twisted into one of distaste.

“ Yeah, I’ve tried it during one of my mom’s food experiments and frankly I’m not the biggest fan.” He turned to Bakugou, “will you help me upstairs?”

“No problem Ojiro,” Bakugou nodded toward the elevator and they quickly made their way up- not noticing the open-mouthed faces of shock that crowded the couches.

They made it to the third floor and Ojiro led him towards his room wordlessly, and maybe he was leaning a bit more into Bakugou than he probably needed to but if you’d ever ask him he’d deny it. Bakugou was comforting to Ojiro’s weakened state and frankly who didn’t want a cute boy to help them in their time of need.

Meanwhile, Bakugou was facing his own dilemma, why in the world did each step toward the bed fill him with dread? Gritting his teeth and shoving down his confused emotions, Bakugou helps Ojiro lay down on his bed. “You good?”

He got a slight nod as an answer as Ojiro curled up under the covers, obvious exhaustion flooding his face. Feeling out of place Bakgouu started to step away but was surprised when Ojiro reached out and grabbed a fistful of Bakgou’s pants.

“Can you stay here for a second?” Ojiro mumbled, his face scrunched up against the pillow. A silent nod was all that Bakugou could manage, his heart in his throat, so he nervously sat on the edge of the bed near Ojiro’s knees. Ojiro peeked up at the nervous nelly and decided to tease him. “I was going to thank you for helping me but you look so cute when you’re nervous.”

It took a second to register but Bakugou flushed a deep ruby color and stood up abruptly, Ojiro smiled blindingly at his reaction until the hot head high-tailed it out of his room.

Well shit.

Bakugou closed the door behind him, being mindful not to slam it, he rushed to the elevator and jammed at the button until it finally opened. He quickly hit four and repeatedly pressed the close door button while his heart seemed to be beating in his ears. He knew his face was flushed- he could feel the heat it emitted. Once the doors finally closed he took a deep breath and patted his cheeks. Why was he even acting like this? The girls downstairs have called him cute in passing and he’d never reacted this way before. Maybe it’s just exhaustion from the rollercoaster of emotions he took today. Yeah, that must be it.

He was mostly calm and back to his usual skin tone by the time he made it halfway down the hall to his dorm but all of a sudden Kirishima stepped out of his room. “Baku-bro! Satou just messaged me that dinner is ready, want to head down together?”

“Not today, I’m tired.” Bakugou brushed past Kirishima and headed into his room while all but slamming his door. He flicked the lock and pressed his slightly warm forehead against the cool wood. He couldn’t help but feel as if his earlier assumption was wrong. He could still feel his heart racing from when Ojiro called him cute. Yeah, Bakugou knew he wasn’t ugly. After all, he took after his mom, he knew the old hag was beautiful. But hearing it from Ojiro was different than anytime before- maybe it had to do with how it built up.

Wait, how did it build up? Yeah maybe he felt different today but it was hard to pinpoint any of his emotions today. The protective urge Ojiro pulled out of him? He’d felt that before! With the shitty nerd and shitty hair especially. Though the urge to keep Ojiro in his arms when he had tried to pull away was new. He gently knocked his forehead against the door before trudging over to his bed. A glance at the clock on his headboard showed it was just after six. Way too early to fall asleep and as if he could. He didn’t understand what was happening to himself. He stared at the ceiling as the realization dawned on him.

Bakugou had a crush on Ojiro.

[ratchetclankarecute]

Training Once Again

(Hornet and Herrah have a sparring session after the Everything!)

Herrah carefully ran an initial swipe over her needle, long disused. Well conditioned considering how long it had remained stored since she entered the Dream, but leaving much to be desired nonetheless. Her daughter (Hornet she said, a gift from a now apparently dead Vespa) had apologized profusely over not keeping her comatose mother’s needle in fighting condition upon its initial discovery, and Herrah had to reassure her that she could not have possibly expected an unused needle’s upkeep, much less along with her daughter’s other duties.

She hummed dissatisfied at the memory, oiling the cleaning cloth and running it along now slightly less dusty channels. Herrah probably should have expected to become martyred in Hornet’s memory, considering how young she had been when her mother began to Dream, but the constant apologies over insignificant or perceived slights on Hornet’s part troubled her immensely. 

She shut down talk of debts the moment she realized Hornet had meant her own birth, but that was but a facet of a much larger problem. 

Obviously no one, not even the White Lady, could have possibly raised her daughter to Herrah’s wishes without Herrah being there, but the idea of Hornet owing her own mother a life debt for *existing* struck Herrah at her core and broke her open enough for the flames of rage to be fanned into a choking inferno. Not to mention that entire issue was one of many, along similar premises of what defined duty or obligation. 

Herrah was at a loss at how to even begin pulling her daughter away from such self-destructive and shame-filled beliefs. She, of course, countered such ideas whenever they came up in conversation. That would not, however, solve the essence of the problem. 

And what if she ended up forcing Hornet to hide her true thoughts out of fear her mother would shame her for them?

Needle cleaned. She inspected the edge of it with an irritated sigh. The needle had remained sharp enough for her tastes, luckily, but her mind could not come up with anything but frustrations about helping her daughter. 

“Has the edge dulled that horribly?”

Ah, and there she was, approaching the bench to sit next to Herrah. Her own needle was held loosely in one claw, a heavily stained cleaning cloth in the other.

“No, no,” Herrah reassured her, “It is simply general frustrations that vex me now.”

Hornet hummed, in either sympathy or acknowledgement, Herrah could not tell, and began cleaning her needle alongside her mother. 

It reminded Herrah, invariably, of when Hornet first learned to care for her needle. When they had sat together so Herrah could walk her daughter through the proper motions of cleaning and sharpening a needle, and when Herrah explained the common pitfalls and the correct steps that should be done instead.

None of the caution Hornet had at first used excessively to avoid such mistakes showed in her motions now, but, Herrah reflected watching, it was completely unnecessary. Hornet had gotten centuries of practice while Herrah dreamed and it showed in her simple, almost thoughtless motions as she tended to her weapon. Her actual use of it had, in all likelihood, advanced to a similar level.

Which gave Herrah an idea…

“How about another training session?”

Hornet stilled and glanced up at Herrah.

Herrah continued, “I know you’ve likely learned far more than I could ever have taught you, but I would like to see how much you’ve grown in our time apart.” And besides, they could both use the exercise the hour or so of training typically provided. 

Hornet stared (in shock? In excitement? Herrah could not tell, even though it had been over a month since Hornet had dragged a bleeding, stumbling Hollow into Deepnest. It should have been time enough to know her own daughter’s mannerisms) then stood, tucking the cloth into her cloak.

“Lets!” Hornet agreed, “But be warned mother mine,” she tilted her head mischievously, “I have had centuries of combat experience by now, while you merely decades. Perhaps I may defeat you yet!”

Herrah burst out laughing, striding to the center of the room where they had always done the sparring part of training. 

“If you can, I would be all the happier for it!” she declared, “But don’t count your victories before you have fought your battles dearest daughter,” she swung her needle back and around, settling into a loose but ready stance, “Fight your battles…”

“Come what may!” Hornet finished, eagerly slipping into a combative pose herself.

They circled, briefly, before Herrah gave a lazy swing in Hornet’s direction. Hornet matched her, giving an equally slow parry. The spar continued as such at first, Herrah gently probing for a baseline, her daughter mimicking her demeanor to establish it, even as she remained tense, monitoring Herrah’s movements for any sudden ones.

Feeling both that Hornet was as prepared as she would ever be, and that she herself was properly warmed up, Herrah lunged her needle forward suddenly, giving out a heavy hup! as she did.

Hornet ducked to the side easily, coming alongside Herrah and slicing the thread off her needle in one smooth motion. 

Herrah swiped her needle up, preventing Hornet from completing the disarmament. She threw out a limb in a wide sweeping motion, at Hornet’s waist height. She would trip if she attempted a short jump to dodge the strike.

Instead, Hornet bounced off Herrah’s leg sending herself higher. She gracefully sailed to the height of Herrah’s mask and whacked her needle at one! two! three joints holding Herrah’s needle - and spun as she struck the weapon itself. 

Herrah didn't quite feel the needle rip out of her claws, but she did see whistle into the floor, sending out a twannng! as it stuck.

Hornet in this time had already landed and rolled back onto her feet, needle held for a continued fight, and eyes entirely on Herrah. She didn’t seem to notice that she had disarmed her mother, even as the weapon stayed quivering next her.

Herrah could only stand limply in shock for a moment. But only for a moment. Soon her shoulders puffed up in pride at her wonderful, wonderful daughter, who had grown so much. 

Grief at having missed her daughter’s progression would have overwhelmed her, had she not been even more overcome by the love and delight in how strong and capable Hornet had just shown herself to be.

Hornet, for her part, flagged in holding her needle up, confusion relaxing her body. She turned, looking up to see Herrah’s needle next to her, and froze, apparently shocked herself.

“Oh, you’ve grown so much…” Herrah murmured, enthralled in her daughter's prowess, “Daughter I-”

Hornet hiccuped, still staring up at Herrah’s stuck needle. Her needle fell, hanging from a claw, first limply, then not at all. It clattered to the floor as Hornet’s body shuddered with sobs. 

Herrah froze, checking Hornet for injuries that had no way of occurring before gently gathering her up into a hug.

“Daughter…” Herrah began, but Hornet only sobbed harder at the attempt at conversation, clutching at her mother’s fur, so Herrah picked her up off the floor entirely and settled in to wait. 

Herrah sometimes had one set of arms to hold her daughter, while the rest of her limbs remained free for whatever work needed doing, but no other work aside from comfort was needed, so she was able to dedicate one arm to supporting her, two to hold her close, and one to gently rub Hornet’s back and head in soothing motions.

She was, just as she was before the aborted training session, completely at a loss. All she could remember from the end of their previous sessions, was Hornet being frustrated at not being able to defeat her mother, maybe proud if she had gotten closer to doing so that day. By all rights, this should have been a well-deserved and well overdue milestone to have passed.

Unless that itself was the problem?

The imaginings of a child were prone to inaccuracy. The memories Hornet would have of her childhood and the hopes she cultivated at those times would have gone hand-in-hand in her mind. Perhaps the victory Hornet had imagined was shattered by the reality of her true victory in some way. 

Or perhaps something about what happened triggered emotions from an entirely different event. Many horrible things had happened to her daughter while Herrah was gone, and this might be the culmination of one of them. 

Or maybe it was something else entirely. She had no way of knowing until Hornet calmed down regardless, so Herrah concentrated on soothing her, pulling her closer whenever the sobs grew in harshness, stroking the spots that had comforted her as a younger child all the while.

Eventually, Hornet began quieting down, until the bawling became gentle weeping and the weeping became sniffles with an occasional hiccup. She pushed her mask out of Herrah’s fur, settling back against her arms. 

“Are you recovered enough to speak now?” Herrah asked gently.

Hornet laughed wetly, “I didn’t expect that!” she said, her voice threatening to crack but not quite breaking. 

Herrah chuckled too, massaging the tear stains on her cheek, “Neither did I, although perhaps we should have…”

Hornet stiffened. So the breakdown was about the fight. Not that there was very much doubt about that.

“Why didn’t you?” Herrah asked, “I know I didn’t because apparently, seeing Deepnest decayed as it is, was not enough for me to separate the daughter in front of me from the daughter I left behind.”

Hornet flinched, then turned, burying her mask into her mother’s chest.

“I didn’t think it was even possible,” she said, “I thought-” her breath hitched, “I thought-thought that you would still be strong?”

Herrah snuggled her closer. She hoped to prevent more tears, but some things needed to be addressed. 

“I suppose it’s always…” she tried to think of the right words, “...difficult, to learn someone you love is fallible after all.”

Herrah took a breath to continue, but was stopped by a sharp tug on her fur.

“That’s not what I meant,” Hornet insisted, “I thought…” she paused now too.

“When you trained me when I was young, I was frustrated with my defeats obviously, even angry at times. But...but I knew you would turn the skills you had on those who wished me harm if need demanded it. That you would always be there to protect me and now…” she dipped her head.

“...now I don't know that I can protect you,” she mumbled.

“And what makes you think you need to protect me?” 

Hornet’s head jerked up.

“You’re still my child, regardless of your skill. I will always defend you for as long as I live, in whatever way I can, even if you can do it better…” Herrah nuzzled Hornet’s little head, “I will still try my best. Always.”

Hornet continued staring.“But I'm stronger than you,” she said.

“That doesn't change the fact I'm your mother. It's my duty to love you as long as I live - therefore, I will protect you as long I love no matter what happens or how you change,” Herrah replied simply.

“But…” Hornet's breath caught in a sniffle before she could finish the thought.

“But…” Hornet sniffled again.

“But...I...you still...,” she buried her mask in Herrah's fur again and this time, Herrah simply held her. They would need to have more conversations about who protected who in the future, but it clearly needed to wait until they were both more emotionally stable.

And besides, they hadn't gotten the exercise that Herrah started the session to obtain.

Perhaps they could get it by switching roles. Make the teacher the student, and readjust accordingly, and make things new but right.

She could make sure that aside from the complete upheaval of who trained who, it would be like old times made new again. 

Except this time, it would be for her.

[raendown]

It’s still February where we are and no fan gets left behind! @copyninken​ and I both made gifts for the wonderful @kaiyaru​ for the @madatobigiftexchange​! We hope you enjoy! 

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 3499 Rated: T+ Summary: Sometimes it's the harebrained schemes that end up working best, though not always in a way you might expect.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Have You Tried Tying Them Together

For his unceasing quest to bring peace Hashirama had been called a good man by many, lauded as a kind individual with the patience of a saint and the innocent heart of a child. Many had tried to repay his kindnesses in countless different ways and he had refused them all with a smile. At the moment, he was regretting that. Hashirama wished dearly that he had taken some of the offers for a free night at this or that onsen, accepted one of the invitations to dinner at so-and-so’s table, something, anything to get him out of the predicament he currently found himself in. Even a man with endless patience grew tired of standing in between his two most precious people.

Perhaps it hadn’t been the best idea to invite his brother and his best friend out for dango at the same time. He was of course well aware of how poorly they got along but despite all hurdles he‘d encountered Hashirama clung stubbornly to the hope that someday they would see what he was trying to get at and finally realize he had a point to throwing them together like this. They had so much in common. If they would only calm down long enough to talk for two seconds he just knew they would absolutely adore each other as much as he adored them both. Unfortunately they hadn’t calmed down since they entered the dango shop and the owner was starting to look like he couldn’t decide whether to ask them to leave or to cower behind his own apron.

“It’s only right for me to have the honor,” Madara spat. “I’m the eldest.”

“You may be my elder but no one’s ever accused you of being my better,” Tobirama snapped back. “It’s not like you paid for them!”

Not that Hashirama could blame the owner, really. The poor soul was a civilian, woefully unequipped to deal with the killing intent leaking out of both of the men sitting with their Hokage. Sighing deeply, Hashirama solved the argument of who would get the last stick of dango by snatching it up himself and popping it in to his mouth. Truthfully he was already full and it was likely that this last stick of sweets would give him a bellyache but he figured that was better than continuing to sit here and listening to them squabble.

Chewing slowly, mentally giving his stomach a quick pep talk to warn it of the incoming extra food, Hashirama enjoyed the few moments of silence as both Madara and Tobirama watched him eat with matching expressions of chagrin. He knew exactly why they were looking at him like that. Equally competitive, they were both upset that he had just taken away the thing they’d been fighting over, thereby removing any chance for one of them to win the argument. They both detested the very idea of a tie when it came to their quibbles but Hashirama had already had quite enough for one day. In fact, he’d had quite enough to last him several lifetimes and he would be perfectly happy if they would never fight again. However unlikely that was. Since he had a few moments of peace anyway, he distracted himself from the inevitable bellyache by wracking his brain for a way to finally make these two boneheaded men just stop and talk like normal human beings for once.

The owner of the dango stall looked so relieved when they paid and left that Hashirama feared the man might faint. As compensation for the trouble they’d caused, he hurried his two companions away towards the training fields. A brilliant idea just occurred to him and he saw no point in waiting to put it in to action.

Somehow, he wasn’t sure how, the three of them managed to make it all the way to the farthest – and therefore most secluded – training ground without any new arguments cropping up. Oh they glared at each other of course and a few snide comments were tossed around but there was no yelling and Hashirama figured he could count that one as a win.

Upon arriving he spun around to face his brother and his friend and opened his mouth to announce the amazing idea he’d come up with. Before he could even get a single word out he was cut off as Tobirama huffed in snide amusement.

“You better hope he didn’t bring us out here to spar Uchiha. I must say, I wouldn’t mind the opportunity to grind that pudgy nose of yours in to the dirt.” Madara, of course, immediately bristled in response.

“As if you could! Bring it on Senju, I could take you any day!”

“Think so? I think you’re just a lot of big talk.”

“Well I think my nose isn’t pudgy!”

Running his hands down his face with a groan, Hashirama gave in before he could even try. It was easy to see that neither of them were in the mood to listen and he knew all too well how little effect his nagging would have once they actually started growing violent. Informing them of his idea could wait for tomorrow. Or never. Right now it seemed he would have to take action without letting them know what was going on first but that was alright. They were both very smart men, surely they would figure it out on their own.  

Almost as a sign of divine providence Madara had only just stepped closer to Tobirama, getting right up in his face, at just the same moment that Hashirama brought his hands together to mold his chakra. Neither of the men before him had enough time to react before suddenly the ground beneath their feet exploded with thick vines that wrapped about their bodies and trapped them in place – together. As they shouted in surprise the vines thickened and settled in to sturdy beams of wood holding them chest to chest no matter how much they struggled and swore.

With his hand on his hips, beatific smile in place, Hashirama looked at his work with satisfaction. They weren’t very happy about their situation obviously but he didn’t care one single whit about that. He had suffered through enough of their arguments so far. Let them suffer through the end of his patience now. They were going to see the light if he had to smother them both to get them there.

“Anija!” Tobirama hollered, spluttering out a mouthful of Madara’s hair. “Have you gone mad!?”

“What is the meaning of this, Hashirama!” Madara’s face was red with anger, his entire body practically vibrating as he tried to squirm. The wood held him fast but he looked ready to squirm all day if it freed him. It wouldn’t.

“Get me out of here, Anija!”

“No thank you,” Hashirama chirped. “Have fun you two!”

Feeling a lot more cheerful now than he had only half an hour ago, he tucked both hands inside his sleeves and strolled away, humming tunelessly to himself. Tonight was Mito’s turn to make dinner and he wondered if maybe she might be amenable to some ‘light exercise’ before she began cooking. He was so full from the dango that he could certainly do with working off some of the calories and that seemed to him a pleasant way to do so. Perhaps when his belly wasn’t feeling quite so heavy anymore he might check on his two favorite stubborn men but if they still weren’t getting along by then he was quite prepared to leave them out in the cold all night.

Strong shinobi were quite used to that type of thing and his precious people were all very strong shinobi.

Left behind, Madara and Tobirama shouted threats and insults at the man’s retreating back until long after he had passed out of sight. There followed perhaps a single beat of silence after the shouting finally died down before their glares turned to each other, so close their brows were nearly touching and the daggers they were trying to shoot at each other with their eyes were in true danger of piercing skin.

“You’re related to him,” Madara felt compelled to point out.

“Believe me, the second I get out of this mess and kill you he’s my next target.”

“Still experiencing delusions of grandeur? You couldn’t take me even if I had one hand tied behind my back, you frost-bitten stiff-necked worm!”

“Worm? Really? That’s the best you can do?”

“It’s hard to think with your disgusting face so close to mine.”

“Maybe if you had more than two brain cells to rub together they would work better under pressure.”

“Fuck you!”

“Go fuck yourself!”

Scrunching his face in to a bastardized cross between scowl and smirk, Madara lifted one eyebrow just to complete the look. “How would that even work?” he asked.

After a few seconds of blatant staring Tobirama determined that the other man was actually trying to figure out the mechanics of being told to fuck himself. It was like all the fighting energy in his body were put on pause for a moment while he thought hard about something that really didn’t deserve any thought at all. He couldn’t let that stand, of course. If the two of them were going to be tied face to face and he was required to stare at this idiot for kami only knew how long then the attention was bloody well going to stay on him.

“If you like I can draw you a very anatomically correct diagram once we get the hell out of this.” He tried for his usual confident leer and the expression was only mildly ruined by the heat of another body pressed so closely to his own. When was Hashirama coming back?

“Hmph.” Madara turned his nose up, gravity pulling the hair away from his face. “I don’t need any help from you in that department.”

“Which department was that? Learning how to better make a fool of yourself? I’m well aware of your skills there.”

There was no pleasure on earth quite like watching Madara attempt to flail as he usually did without being able to move any of his limbs. Several of the thick vines around them creaked as if in rebuke but none of them loosened so much as an inch. With the strength his brother usually put in to his jutsu, even without meaning to, Tobirama guessed that they could probably squirm and struggle until darkness closed in on them without ever making any progress. If they were going to get out of this they probably needed to work together. Life truly was cruel.

“Stop fidgeting,” he demanded. “We need to put our heads together.”

“I am not fidgeting! Obviously I’m- I’m- just shut up and do something!”

Grateful that at least his shins weren’t being kicked, Tobirama sighed. “That is precisely what I was trying to suggest. Doing something.”

“Then do it!”

“Maybe I would if you would help me!”

“Hmph!”

Dropping his chin back down brought a great deal of Madara's hair cascading between their faces in a most distracting manner but there wasn’t much he could do about it other than blow crossly from the corners of his mouth. Tobirama watched the bow shape his lips made until he realized what he was doing.

“If I know my brother then these are undoubtedly living vines. He has a terrible habit of leaving his chakra behind in everything. And watching. It’s quite invasive, actually.”

“What, so you’re saying he can probably see us right now?” Madara's eyes dipped to the wood, looking scandalized.

“Something like that,” Tobirama agreed. “Not see us exactly but more that they carry his will. It’s difficult to explain. That’s not my point; if we make an effort at least to get along I’m sure that will get us out of this and we can both pretend it never happened.”

That, apparently, was the wrong thing to say.

“Am I so disgusting to you that you can’t stand to even think about me!?” Madara glared as best he could with one eye now completely covered with hair. It was a rather decent look, actually.

“Have we not made our opinions of each other quite clear by now?” Tobirama asked. If he added enough scorn to his voice it might even have sounded close to his usual vitriol. Something must have wavered in his tone however as Madara looked away as though uncomfortable and mumbled something under his breath. Tobirama would have given half his chakra stores to know what thoughts were running through that impossible mind.

Though he waited no immediate answer came, which was probably for the best. Nothing good could possibly come from discussing the truth of how they interacted with each other on a daily basis. There were few things Tobirama thought he would enjoy less than having his motivations for certain behaviors questioned by one of the few people who were smart enough to figure out when he was lying. Madara was far from a stupid man. It was one of the reasons he made a surprisingly effective administrator.

It was also one of the reasons Tobirama found it so amusing when, like now, his cheeks dusted pink as his emotions rapidly overtook his rational sense. Riling him up was only too easy – he always did half the work himself in his own head.

“What do you suggest then?” It took ages for words to come but when they did Madara was all business.

“Do you have any control over your chakra?”

“Listen here Senju–!”

“Because I do not. Anija’s mokuton is capable of chakra blocking properties.” Tobirama leveled the other man with a judging stare. “If you will remember, that is how he was able to assist Mito in capturing the kyuubi.”

“Ah. Right.” Madara subsided, looking almost ashamed of his outburst.

Wishing dearly that he could fiddle with his hands as he so often did when thinking, Tobirama graciously decided he could let that go. No matter how easy it was starting a fight right now would not help either of them.

“So why don’t you think us out of here, genius boy?”

Exceptions could be made to good judgement, however. Tobirama narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t know, idiot, why don’t you do that yourself?”

“Oi!”

And just like that the tentative quiet was broken. Just like every other time they got anywhere close to their own version of reluctant peace it lasted no more than half a minute before the two of them began shouting in each other’s faces again. It was the same old song and dance. Everything led back to violence with them.

Well, it led back to aggression which all too often paved the way for violence. Considering their restricted positions Tobirama hadn’t expected any sort of violence at the moment and watching Madara struggle to free his limbs could have almost convinced him to show a little gratitude to his brother for trapping them so well. Almost. Whatever good will he might have had immediately crumbled to dust when the vines around their bodies shifted ever so slightly to bring them even closer together. It was a clear message from Hashirama that they needed to get along, a message that he would have been much more likely to heed if not for one thing.

Now they were kissing.

Head bowed forward as he tried to butt the Senju annoying him, Madara's face was in just the wrong spot when Tobirama was shoved forward, pressing their lips together with mockingly gentle pressure. Immediately, understandably, both of them froze. To Tobirama’s horror he found himself unable to look away as his mind automatically began cataloguing new and interesting details about a face he tried so hard not to notice on most days.

It was only when Madara's face achieved a very special shade of red unique to him alone that both of them were jolted back in to motion, twisting their faces apart to gasp for air.

“WHAT THE HELL!?” were the man’s predictable first words.

“That clearly wasn’t me!” Tobirama insisted.

“You- you kissed me!”

“I did not!”

Somehow Madara looked even more scandalized. “And you didn’t even mean it!?”

“…what?”

“Cruel! Indecent!” Unaware of the strange looks Tobirama was giving him Madara ranted on in high dudgeon. “It’s terrible enough of you to take advantage of me at such a moment but to mock me for the things I can’t control, I never knew you were so terrible! Just because I have these damnable feelings does not mean I’m going to let you play with me for your own amusement!”

“Feelings?” Shock kept him frozen barely half an inch from the other’s face but Tobirama couldn’t think clearly enough to try for more distance.

His confusion went unnoticed.

“Obviously! Don’t pretend that wasn’t deliberate! If you knew how I felt about you then you could have at least just ignored me instead of seeking me out all the time to be mean! Always so mean and sarcastic!”

“You’re mean and sarcastic too!” he couldn’t help pointing out.

“Well it’s just to throw you off the scent!” Madara swallowed, adding at half the volume, “I don’t deal with emotions very well.”

“Tell me about it,” Tobirama murmured faintly.

For a long time they merely hung suspended and stared at each other again. None of the red had faded at all from Madara's cheeks but in light of these new discoveries Tobirama could finally admit to himself that maybe – maybe­ – he sort of thought it was a cute look. Madara had a lot of cute looks, most of them achieved when he was flailing about reacting poorly to his own emotions just as he’d said.

And wasn’t it just their luck that the exact same thing Tobirama had been doing to guard his own heart, Madara had been doing as well? Sometimes it felt like the two of them were damned to miscommunicate about everything important.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he offered finally. “You don’t mentioned anything about being stupid and I won’t mention anything about being stupid. Got it?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Madara scrunched his face together in confusion.

Rather than waste time explaining Tobirama did as he’d been denying he wanted to do for months, leaning forward that precious half inch and kissing the older man as best he could from such an awkward position. For the short few seconds that it lasted it was nice. Pleasant. Warm and gentle, nothing they had ever dared to be for each other before and everything they had both been quietly dreaming of. Those moments stretched out in to blissful eternity before they were so rudely interrupted as the vines holding them together trembled and released without warning.

They went down together with sharp cries of dismay, the ground rising up to meet them even as the mokuton almost seemed to shrink in to itself and wither. If the wood had a mouth it would not have been surprising to hear it whimper. As it was all that could be heard in the empty training ground was the grumbling of two men not at all happy to have their intimate moment ruined.

“Let’s kill him,” Madara grunted from where he lay sprawled out on his back glaring up at the sky.

“Maybe later,” Tobirama said. “I think we have more important things to talk about first.” He let his head roll to the side, watching Madara do the same and attempting a smile when their eyes met. “My place or yours?”

“Here’s fine.”

With no more warning than that Madara rolled, one leg swinging up and over until he sat astride Tobirama’s hips, leering down at him with all the confidence that put such a delicious swagger in his walk everywhere he went. He didn’t seem particularly worried about the possibility that someone might chance upon them out here in the open but then Tobirama was hardly going to be the one to put a stop to things now. Burying his fingers in all that wild dark hair and pulling their lips back together was a much more interesting use of his time and it also came with the unexpected bonus of hearing a low rolling moan as it rumbled up through Madara's chest.

And as it turned out the man was right. Right here was just fine, a fine place to start channeling their passions in to something they could both enjoy.

On the other side of the village Hashirama sat up in his bed with both arms hugging his own chest, shivering while his wife pet his hair soothingly and crooned in his ear. For the fourth time in a row she asked him what was wrong and finally he managed to swallow past the lump in his throat to answer.

“I felt them kissing!” he cried. “It was horrible!”

[slurrmp]

not another info sheet.

                                        sasha o’neill (stargate sg1)

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: sasha maria o’neill PRONUNCIATION: SASH-ə MEANING: defender, helper of mankind REASONING: named after her mother’s grandmother NICKNAME(S): sash (most common), ash, asha, kid PREFERRED NAME(S): just her full name or sash BIRTH DATE: october 20th 1972 AGE: 33 (as of season 9) ZODIAC: libra GENDER: female PRONOUNS: she/her ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: biromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual NATIONALITY: american ETHNICITY: white CURRENT LOCATION: colorado springs, cheyenne mountain LIVING CONDITIONS: a little apartment in the city, but will mostly stay at jack’s home. TITLE(S): miss

BACKGROUND

BIRTH PLACE: san francisco HOMETOWN: fairfax SOCIAL CLASS: fairly wealthy, but not exactly rich EDUCATION LEVEL: almost finished college FATHER: angus o’neill (deceased) MOTHER: maria o’neill (nee barnes) (mia) SIBLING(S): none BIRTH ORDER: only child CHILDREN: none PET(S): a pet gold fish named bruce, however, is too busy with work to actually have the dog she always wanted. OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: jack o’neill (uncle), sara o’neill (aunt), charlie o’neill (cousin) (deceased) PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: max turner (four years), jonas quinn (two years), cameron mitchell (??) ARRESTS?: when she was a teenager and her father passed away, and her mother basically disowned her - sasha rebelled against her aunt and uncle, doing petty crimes such as shop lifting and grand theft PRISON TIME?: spent two nights in the county jail for stealing a car from the mayor

OCCUPATION & INCOME

PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: working for the sgc SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: it’s really disguised as working for the air force TERTIARY SOURCE(S) OF INCOME: she writes a column in the local paper APPROXIMATE AMOUNT PER YEAR: uhhhh couldn’t tell you, but it’s enough to live comfortably CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: very much so PAST JOB(S): worked at a fast food chain until she was 17, then worked for a supermarket (but was caught stealing & was fired) SPENDING HABITS: she knows what she loves and will always buy what she needs MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: her father’s dog tags, which she constantly wears around her neck

SKILLS & ABILITIES

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: she was a cheerleader in high school before her father passed - moving into senior year of high school, sasha locked herself away from others and herself - which meant that she wasn’t as physically fit as she used to be. she was never overweight, but she couldn’t do a cartwheel to save her life anymore. however, joining the sgc - she’s managed to gain back her fitness and once again can do that cartwheel. OFFENSE: no DEFENSE: yes. her fighting style is more protect her body than anything else. SPEED: she’s not incredibly fast, but if something is chasing her, she has the will to go faster. INTELLIGENCE: rather intelligent, however, it is less mathematical smart and more historical smart. ACCURACY: she grew up in a military family, she’s very accurate AGILITY: after working back her fitness, sasha’s very good at climbing walls and leaping across tall buildings. STAMINA: it’s fairly good but no where near as good as it should be TEAMWORK: she depends on her team to survive and they depend on her to keep them alive TALENTS: can translate a different language within an hour, rather good at the piano SHORTCOMINGS: she’s judgemental, snippy and can be rather short with people. all in all it’s that o’neill charm LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english, german, russian, dutch and japanese DRIVE?: yes JUMP-STAR A CAR?: yes CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: yes RIDE A BICYCLE?: yes, badly though SWIM?: yes PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: kind of, without practice she loses her skill PLAY CHESS?: no (daniel’s trying to teach her though) BRAID HAIR?: yes TIE A TIE?: yes PICK A LOCK?: yes

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: alyssa milano EYE COLOR: brown HAIR COLOR: brown HAIR TYPE/STYLE: there’s almost a different style each year. season one: short and almost in a bob. season two: it has grown out more and now reaches her shoulders - curls. season six: it was shaved almost completely off. season three, four, five, seven, eight, nine and ten: it remains at shoulder length and wavy. GLASSES/CONTACTS?: only for when she’s reading DOMINANT HAND: right HEIGHT: 5′2″ WEIGHT: 60 kg BUILD: athletic EXERCISE HABITS: spars with teal’c once a week, while also uses the gym equipment at the sgc twice a week SKIN TONE: pale, but is able to tan rather easily TATTOOS: one on the back of her neck and one on the left side of her lower back PEIRCINGS: both lobes, including seconds, has her nose pierced as well MARKS/SCARS: there is a birthmark over her left hip. a scar just on the right side of her upper lip (which she got when she fell over on the driveway of her family home when she was six), a scar through her left eyebrow - which eerily is like jack’s, however, it was given to her on a mission NOTABLE FEATURES: her eyes and the mirroring scar in her eyebrow, just like jack. USUAL EXPRESSION: she is beaming most of the time - bright and bubbly expressions CLOTHING STYLE: very modern, loves a crop top and low cut jeans, but while she’s on base it is the typical sg uniform. blue fatigues mostly, considering the green makes her look sick JEWELRY: nothing too fancy considering her line of work, a couple of rings and bracelets ALLERGIES: peanuts, bees BODY TEMPERATURE: a normal body temperature DIET: she’s lived with jack for most of her life, it mainly consisted of bbq steak and when she was old enough beer. donuts, and snacks. PHYSICAL AILMENTS: continuously breaks limbs, but nothing too serious to bench her from off world work.

PSYCHOLOGY

JUNG TYPE: enfj ENNEAGRAM TYPE:  the achiever MORAL ALIGNMENT:  chaotic good ELEMENT: air PRIMARY INTELLIGENCE TYPE:  logical-mathematical APPROXIMATE IQ: 124 MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: struggles with ptsd after the death of her father and the events that have occurred in her life so far SOCIABILITY: very out going and loves to meet new people EMOTIONAL STABILITY: she’s been hurt so many times that sasha has started to pull away from anything emotional lately, so not good, but she hides it well with her outgoing personality OBSESSION(S): making sure that everything is perfect, making sure that missions will go correctly and nothing bad will happen. PHOBIA(S): tight spaces, spiders, flying, ADDICTION(S): none DRUG USE: none ALCOHOL USE: limited, loves a good beer every sunday afternoon PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: if push came to shove

MANNERISMS

SPEECH STYLE:  she’s very articulate with her words. when the occasion calls for it, she can speak in a rather professional manner. but when she’s around friends or family, she won’t talk quite as stiff ACCENT: very clearly a west coast accent QUIRKS: she bounces a lot when she’s excited or even happy. it’s absolutely because she’s the shortest of the group and it makes her feel tall HOBBIES: reading is a big one - basically what she does to escape the ‘real world’, mainly romance and comedy novels because horror/sci-fi and action is what she lives on a daily basis HABITS: she has a habit of biting her lower lip, usually when she’s thinking or worried.  NERVOUS TICKS:  bounces her leg up and down when nervous, she will also pace a lot DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: one is absolutely to save the world from the goa’uld, while the others is her family and her friends FEARS:  losing said family and friends. she has a terrible habit of latching onto people she’s met - which isn’t good in her line of work. however, it helps her  POSITIVE TRAITS:  loyal, strong willed, will fight for her family NEGATIVE TRAITS:  falls in love too easily, tries to see the best in everyone - which usually gets her into trouble SENSE OF HUMOR:  very dry, it’s that o’neill sense of humour though DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?:  on and off CATCHPHRASE(S):oh for crying out loud

FAVORITES

ACTIVITY: reading ANIMAL: fox BEVERAGE: beer BOOK: pride and prejudice CELEBRITY: brad pitt COLOR: pastel brown DESIGNER: vera wang FOOD: fried rice FLOWER: sunflower GEM: diamond HOLIDAY: christmas MODE OF TRANSPORTATION:  mini cooper MOVIE: sleepless in seatle MUSICAL ARTIST: elton john SCENERY: snowy day next to a fireplace in the city SCENT: lavender SPORT: football SPORTS TEAM: 49ers TELEVISION SHOW: simpsons WEATHER: winter VACATION DESTINATION: bora bora

ATTITUDES

GREATEST DREAM: to see the goa’uld destroyed and to have her family safe GREATEST FEAR: to lose the planet and her family MOST AT EASE WHEN: things are going the right way, no matter the scenario - could be in the middle of a mission, but as long as she knows what’s she’s doing, sasha can breeze through it LEAST AT EASE WHEN:  everything is going wrong, mainly when missions stuff up. as well as when she has no control over a situation WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD HAPPEN: one of the alternate world’s reality, becoming her reality. the goa’uld taking over the world and enslaving humanity BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: finally getting into college BIGGEST REGRET:  losing her daughter MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT:  it’s not everyday that you come face to face with a new species, it’s also not everyday that you decide to trip UP stairs when coming to greet them, falling flat on her face and breaking her nose BIGGEST SECRET:  max and sasha were expecting a baby - but they were not compatible and the baby died during the first trimester, she never told anyone besides janet TOP PRIORITIES: her job and her family

[scarletgardensrpg]

UNDEAD ♦ TWENTY-SIX ♦ NEUTRAL

EVANDER BUCHANAN is the Gravekeeper of the Oude Kerk. While Evander does not uphold most traditional priestly duties, such as Sunday sermons and rituals, he offers Undead baptisms, wherein the newly rehabilitated are “purified” as a means of initiation into Amsterdam—a common practice for nearly all Undead citizens, regardless of their religious affiliation. He was killed and transformed into a rotbeest at the age of twenty-six by Cecile, then resurrected in the Carpathian Mountains by Julian in 2045. 

BIOGRAPHY

tw: alcohol and drug abuse, death

“Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.” Julian, on the other end of the line, sounded tinny and unimpressed. Thank you for that, good morning to you as well. Now if you'll be more specific... “Okay, um. I’m still at the beach.” A long silence. “I took Papa’s Porsche.” An even longer silence. “It’s, like, not in great condition. Anymore.” This last stretch of silence went on for so long, Evander pulled his phone back from his ear to make sure the call hadn’t disconnected. “Julian.” Is it still driveable? “Yeah, I think so. Maybe. I dunno, the wheels look fine?” That’s not—okay. Drive it to the nearest collision center. Now, it was Evander’s turn to be silent. For the first time, in a long time, he felt something akin to shame. He was nineteen, and still trying—failing—to make his brother proud. “I’m, uh, still kind of drunk. Sorry. Do you think you could—” Yes. I’ll be there soon. Click. Evander swore under his breath and shoved his phone back into his pocket. His eyes hurt, there was sand in the depths of his ass crack, and Ce was going to mock him for a week. 

- ❀ -

Spare the rod and spoil the child. He came last: after Julian had been born and deemed favorite and heir, after Cecile had been born and deemed illegitimate and unwanted. Evander, then, found himself with nothing to prove and nothing to endure: it was all roses. Handsome, good grades, star of the football team; he’d spend his youth living out some iteration of the American fantasy: a young prince without a care in the world, idling indulgently by an emerald infinity pool—the very picture of privilege. But, of course, as with all things that seemed too good to be true, there was the untarnished gleam of good appearances and saved face—and then, there was the truth. The Buchanans, for all their money’s worth, were a study in psychopathy: generations of well-dressed bastards who had lied and cheated their way up to Heaven, and scaled up the ladder of power using their claws and teeth. A thousand ruined lives could be put to Papa’s name—his own children’s being chief among them. It was a beautiful life, filled with exotic vacations and designer clothes, more money than he’d ever need, enough to fill entire rooms with—and it was an ugly life, marred by screaming matches, broken furniture, and five perpetually unoccupied seats at the dinner table. 

In the end, it was enough to drive Julian to heartlessness, Cecile to madness, and Evander to debauchery. He, especially, wanted no part in any of it all. His siblings were formidable and hungry: the boldest and brightest of the Buchanan clan, with enough conviction to set the world aflame and enough ambition to swallow it whole. What candle could he have held to those big people, those big dreams? He had no interest in trying. Instead, at Dartmouth, he would retreat into his expensive amusements and vices: liquor and wine, lines of cocaine, a quarter-million dollars blown on a bad bet in the casino, yes-men all around him. You’re so pathetic, Cecile would say disdainfully each morning she found him passed out in the foyer—and this, Evander knew, was the one thing she and Julian could agree on. He didn’t mind. That meant there was one less thing he had to listen to them fight about. He loved them, dearly and inexplicably—and he had thought they loved him, too. Wasn’t it enough that they had one another? The answer was, printed in neat clinical letters atop a stack of biochemical consent forms: No. He had underestimated both of them. Julian’s love and Julian’s ambition were two breeds of the same beast. Cecile’s wrath and her ambition were two strains of the same poison.

So: he would die by the hands of his siblings. At this point, it was so trite to talk about: six years of experimentation, Cecile shouldering the brunt of it—not out of concern for Evander, but a twisted need for it to fucking work, already before it got to Julian. When at last it did, and Cecile came out of the bloody waters a dead woman with gleaming eyes, she’d make plans to raise hell, as was so typical of her—but this time, intended Evander to partake in the chaos, too. He had bled to death at her feet, cheek pressed to the filthy basement floor, more afraid than ever. When his mind sank away from him at last, Cecile let him up and swung the door open. It’s me, Ce, she cooed. You always liked to have fun. We’re going to have some fun. And was it fun? In the moment, it might’ve been. Evander couldn’t say. He would come to in three years, in the mountains with Julian’s blood in his mouth and no recollection of what had occurred in the time between the night he’d died and now. His brother looked older, icier than ever. Cecile was nowhere to be found. There’s no need to save her, Evander had spat into the snow. She saved herself. 

At least I’ve saved you, Julian said. To that, Evander could only laugh and laugh, until the incredulity wore off, and there was only grief.

CONNECTIONS

IVONNE – PESKY WOMAN. Evander understands she is his counterpart of sorts—a Priestess to the living in the same way he is a Gravekeeper for the dead. Evander doesn’t understand how this, alone, is sufficient justification in Ivonne’s eyes to enter and leave his church as she pleases (“Evander, this is public property. Your attitude is un-priestly.” “I’m not a priest!”) with armfuls of baked goods, insisting matter-of-factly that he doesn’t eat enough, among a myriad of other baseless declarations she makes to him, about him. They are, in Evander's opinion, vastly different people: where he had happened upon the abandoned Oude Kerk and, in seeing no better option, made a reluctant home for himself there, Ivonne is a zealous New Worlder type. She is a peculiar woman in general: for all her power and popularity, it doesn’t seem she has many friends, nor particularly wants them. In some ways, Evander thinks she’s even lonelier than him. Despite this, he remains quick to brush her off—sometimes aggressively, the hurt of having someone to look after him after so many years both sharp and jarring, and other times begrudgingly, between bitefuls of (admittedly delicious) lemon meringue. She is not exactly motherly, per se—Ivonne acts more like a disapproving corporate manager, or a disinterested therapist—but her attentiveness for Evander is both overwhelming and...neither appreciated, nor unappreciated. He’s conflicted. You know, I can take care of myself, he told her once. Ivonne had lifted a single, elegant brow. Yes, I know. I wonder all the time why you don’t.

JULIAN & CECILE – TWO KNIVES IN HIS BACK. It’s hard—no, impossible—for him to reconcile that Julian, who read him to sleep after nightmares and took a welt to the cheek for Evander after he’d crashed the Porsche, had also watched impassively from across the expanse of an infinite table while Evander signed his life away—and that Cecile, who cried in the bathroom when nobody came to her recital, and accepted expulsion from six successive schools for the simple want of being loved, had been the same woman to draw Evander calmly into her arms, only to kill him between teethfuls of flesh and blood. Once, Evander thought his older brother and sister hung the moon. Cecile never was able to accept Julian’s kindnesses—ones she called debts, mouth wrapped sourly around the word—but Evander would have been content to bask in that kindness forever: diamonds and Jaguars, exotic beaches, lovers in every city—and above all other luxuries, the one of knowing the three of them would be together, always. That hope of his has come true, he supposes, in the most twisted of ways. True, he has Cecile to thank for not abandoning him in a basement in Palestrina—but she’d left him three years later instead in Poland. And he has Julian to thank for resurrecting him—but Julian was the pronouncer of his death sentence to begin with; and what’s more, he’s carried him out of one Hell, only to drag him into another. They were never a happy family, but they were a family. Now, whatever it is that’s keeping them together—science, death, and that ugly word, debts—Evander wishes it wouldn’t.

KISARA & OKSANA – THE LOVERS. He really, really, wishes they would stop making out in his cemetery. Well—they are not exactly kissing, but by the way they spar and wrestle, eyes gleaming bright with the closest thing to feeling alive : it might as well be kissing. Kisara is an old friend—someone he used to visit at the Moulin Rouge when he’d first arrived in Amsterdam, having defaulted back to sex and gambling to quell his misery. The two of them had once gone to depraved depths with one another, lost their minds eating seeds, tumbled about in satin sheets— Eventually, he turned his back on all of it once and for all, but Kisara stuck around. According to her, Oksana is new meat. I’m showing her around, she says, feinting disinterest as she goes to examine her perfect, shiny red nails. Evander snorts. Yeah, showing her around your bed. When Kisara jabs him in the rib with a snarl, he has to roll on the ground and make exaggerated sounds of pain for like, a while, before she finally laughs and forgives him. Kisara and Oksana have been coming around more often—De Wallen is cramped and unsightly, while Centraal Station tends to overrun itself with creepy 200 junkies when it gets late enough. The Oude Kerk, decrepit and, exempting Evander himself, void of people, is an admittedly good place to have some privacy. In truth, Evander doesn’t really mind. Kisara is welcome to come whenever she’d like, and he likes Oksana enough: she’s witty, abrasive, and reminds him a lot of Cecile. But perhaps it’s that very resemblance to his conniving sister that makes him uneasy about her. Kisara, too wrapped up in whatever it is they have going on, doesn’t seem to see the way Oksana holds herself: calmly and calculatively, showing just enough teeth to pass off as fully feral. Evander knows her kind. He’s not inclined to trust her.

OPEN ♦ FC: SEAN O'PRY

[sirro85-blog]

Humans are Space Orcs:

Part 3

For my readers of Human, Frell or Ilun origin the clearest way I can describe Pelcar-3 is as a trading port, the entrance for many goods and travellers with different species and cultures interacting, for other races please see the appendices for appropriate analogy. It has all the hallmarks of a trading port, the ability to buy or source anything, those willing to sell anything for a price be it information, substances or themselves, prostitutes of a dozen species rubbed shoulders with scores of mercenaries , traders and pilots.

The other similarity Pelcar-3 shares with those ancient ports is the crime, both organised and random; so, when 3 dead Flet were found in an empty drinking establishment no real outcry was raised. When a Flet was found tied to a street bench the local security assumed the Flet, so often hired muscle were engaged in a possible criminal struggle for control. Several more Flet bodies were discovered over the course of several days but when 8 more Flet bodies were found at one time more interest was paid, these Flet were better equipped and certainly appeared healthier than the normal criminal underclass, these bodies had the hall marks of Flet military and while no insignia were found or acknowledgement was forthcoming from the Flet Imperium the risk that a Flet hit squad had been eradicated on Pelcar-3 was a concern.

Like the cities of Earth and Ilun wealthy individuals did not live in the port but cared about it's business, indeed two of Pelcar-3's moon's provided accommodation to some of the wealthiest denizines of the galaxy. Security was increased and all armed groups or individuals were searched and monitored on their arrival to the planet.

The residents of Pelcar-3 went on with their lives untroubled, including those of the human mercenary unit known as the Dark Horses, especially now they knew all armed individuals were being monitored on arrival. Life inside their armed and defended compound was broadly unchanged although after several years of getting to know humans I can tell you that under the surface things were not as they seemed.

A peculiar human affliction is the release of stress through physical exertion and particularly unique is the common requirements for that physical exertion to involve others. These could involve acts of love making although after I was informed I was not allowed to observe these acts and take notes no matter the frequency of the events I had to turn my attention to the second physical interactions, sports.

Team games happened frequently, "B-ball"; "Footy" and "Rugby" all occurred regularly however most frequent of all were the activity called "Sparring" this involved getting into a large square and attempting to beat your opponent into submission, there were various standards to these submissions and until the recent events with the "Kittys" -as the Flet were known as a derogatory- the standards were observed and no real harm or injuries were caused. However as the days stretched this changed. The first victim was Captain Dorman who received a broken arm at the hands of Captain Wolf.

Sergeant Panther broke Barbie's jaw in three places; Riflemen Buckets and Ocampo had to be pulled apart and when Knickers choked Captain Becca out something in itself I had not seen before her celebration while standing over the limp body of her friend was savage and animalistic.

It reached a head when Major Kovac sparred with Captain Wolf something that apparently happened very rarely, it was seen as an event by the humans, wagers were placed and almost all those not on duty turned up to witness it.

I have seen both the Major and the Captain face enemies and inflict precise focused injuries while keeping their own wellbeing to a premium. In this bout they appeared to forget this, both appeared to abandon form for all out assault, and both were soon bleeding and injured, Wolf appeared to have several cracked ribs and Kovac was limping badly, I feared they may kill each other before the end which infact came suddenly, Kovac and Wolf sprang apart for a moment and then as they closed Wolf tried to target Kovac's injured leg and was driven back, the larger man threw him to the floor appeared to dislocate the Captain's shoulder before ending the fight with a single punch.

Staff Sergeant Frank King stopped the bouts after that, the accelerated healing methods they had available to them may have meant the two officers were back on their feet in a few days but "Staff" wasn't willing to treat anymore self inflicted injuries.

The sudden loss of their distractions seemed to focus the humans again. The NCOs barked out orders and had their men drilling and practicing at all hours, the officers were regularly meeting late into the night and arguing.

"We've got friends across the damn galaxy, half the council owes you personal favours damnit! We aren't on our own here." Captain Becca said, tears standing out in her eyes.

"Those favours are turning a blind eye to our acquiring off market explosives or allowing me to fortify this building without needing to apply for planning permission. I'm not sure they'll start another war with the Imperium for me. There are favours we can call in but first we need information, which means calling in our first few favours, contact any low level council members you know and find out what the Galactic Council knows about the Flet politics. I'll contact the Ditiri, see what those criminals know." Kovac said calmly.

I saw a certain level of obsession from the soldiers surrounding me over the following few days, men repeatedly checking and rechecking their weapons, rifles being cleaned; magazines rebombed; and blades sharpened. Kit was packed and checked and repacked and personal items were pulled from pockets or from round the neck, kissed or checked and replaced and all the while the Sergeants and the other NCOs prowled the lines, experienced eyes scanning for any mistakes. Sergeant "Fluke" Glover put his whole troop on basics because two foot lockers were found unlocked. Sergeant Panther had her's running laps and doing press ups at two in the morning.

By the time a second meeting was called the Dark Horses accommodation was a highly strung military fortress and for good reason, on three separate occasions armed Flet were caught within rifle range of the buildings, their bodies dumped in the warehouse districts across Pelcar-3.

"They're still getting through to us, we're not safe here." Dorman insisted, "when they workout Hemmings and Richards are in their eyries they won't be so obvious about scoping us out."

"In the meantime I have information," Captain Gillespie interrupted, "from what we've been told, the target on your back is politically motivated. The Royal family of the Flet Imperium are not the absolute rulers they would like to be, the heir that you killed on some battlefield was by all accounts very popular and by first whipping up anger and sympathy for her death and then setting you as the target they hope to show that they are the political entity that can give the people what they want."

"Easy if they're the ones telling the people what it is they want in the first place," scoffed Becca, "same as our lot used to do with immigrants and foreigners and all that crap..."

"Alright Bex, not right now." Kovac interrupted, "so it's just one faction, does that mean we have allies Gilly?"

"Hardly, they won't want to be seen assisting the enemy," Gillespie said with a sigh.

"However, take away the head of that faction, or get them to back down in some way..." Captain Wolf began.

"The people I spoke to said that could work, the Flet are always looking for outward enemies to stop infighting and backstabbing, take out the leader of the faction and the whole party will fall apart trying to claim the top spot." Gillespie finished.

"We'll need more information, Becca you and Dorman need to work your contacts, get us names and details, we need a target, probably 3 or 4." Wolf started hurriedly.

"Head of a faction!" "Targets!?" Becca stared around her, "are you forgetting this is the head of the royal family of the Flet Imperium, this isn't going to be possible."

"Bec, it'll be alright, the Major will come up with a plan, remember what they used to say in the 88th?"

"Slick drills, quick kills, fight hard and if all else fails put your faith in Kovac," Becca said with a faint smile.

"To be fair they said that mostly about me getting my hands on embargoed liquors," Kovac said awkwardly.

The meeting went on with minor details being hammered out, I drifted away to observe the base, cursed by my form of existence I found myself helpless when it started.

Sinsi was the commander of the Hyte of the Flet Imperium, she watched as her 5 Hyte silently scaled the walls of the human compound, until this moment, forced to use the dull soldiers from the allied military factions the royal family had not achieved success in killing the target, now though with the Hyte the Galaxy's finest assassins finally being employed the task would be complete.

The snipers high above the compound had been identified and steps had been taken to avoid detection from their omni-goggles, the human sentries were good but Sinsi's pride were better, even with the whole of the Imperium to choose from finding recruits was nigh impossible in a whole generation maybe a dozen would start training, that 6 had survived to form this pride was considered a blessing indeed.

They closed with the first sentry identified as unavoidable, a flash of claws and the body was quickly hidden, humans would not smell the blood as acutely as Flet. They closed with a second soldier, as Keerdop's claws raked down the soldier darted aside, raised her rifle, Keerdop realised she must silence the weapon, that instinct cost her life, as Keerdop clawed at the hands holding the rifle, and tried to silence the soldier, the bayonet mounted on the rifle drove into Keerdop's throat. At the same moment claws tore into the soldier's flanks, "Tell 'em Knickers sent you," growled the human.

Appalled that one of her sisters had fallen Sinsi was forced to calm herself as her rage told her to maul the human's body, she stopped, the human and the Flet were dead, secure the mission, she gestured for the two bodies to be hidden. "Humans are quicker than you think they are", the lesson taught first and first forgotten. Now they were close, the room they wanted was close, 5 Hyte closed on the room, no mistakes this time, the door opened silently and with night vision a human could only hope for Sinsi saw him, asleep in bed beside a female of his species. She advanced on preternaturally silent paws till she was standing over the humans, a Hyte sister at her side.

Two clawed arms flashed, the female human reacted, to what, Sinsi could not tell but the human moved suddenly pushing the male off the bed she stood up on the soft bedding, Sinsi took a moment to marvel that such small, few limbed creatures could be considered a danger, no natural protection and this one had fur only on her head the rest was covered in nothing but the tender pink skin. Sinsi flicked a wing out to disembowel the naked female, to her astonishment the human stopped the blow and then flexing her body rose in the air to plant both her feet into Sinsi's chest.

Sinsi crashed backwards, stunned at the power in these small forms, her sister had fared no better, Kovac the target had picked her up and thrown her much larger frame at those in the doorway. Realising the chance to employ claws had slipped by Sinsi drew her power lance and fired a bolt at Kovac who, like a coward dived for cover behind his bed before rolling into the adjacent room.

Sinsi advanced with Loirwa and Truvay all with power lances drawn, the finest shots in the Imperium would hit their target once he dared to show his face. However Loirwa was waylayed by the naked human female who had rolled off the bed and now charged hammering her lowered shoulder into the Flet's abdomen. They both crashed into the nearby wall and as the winded Flet bent double the human's skull collided with the Flet's descending chin, their was a sickening crack as Loirwa's head snapped backwards impacting the wall and the human planted her knee repeatedly into the Flet's groin. "Humans do not fight like us with tooth and claw, to them all of their bodies are a weapon", another early lesson and so easily disregarded. Distracted that another Hyte sister had been bested by the diminutive humans Sinsi only had time to call out a warning to her sisters as the target appeared round the door frame and opened fire with one of the human "pistols". Truvay recoiled as her power lance shattered as the human bullet struck it.

Sinsi realised the sisters at the door were under attack. She gestured at Truvay to kill the human female who had finished stamping on Loirwa's windpipe. She opened fire on the Major who had to dive clear of the bolts as they shattered the wall he stood behind, Sinsi gave Truvay a quick glance, the human female had found a weapon but it was not one known to Sinsi as part of the human arsenal, approximately 300mm long it was pink and appeared to be buzzing due to some vibration, made of a soft rubber-like material it bore a striking resemblance to a part of the anatomy of the naked human male. Whatever it was the human female was using it to provide extra reach, dodging blows from the Hyte and repeatedly stabbing the Flet in the vulnerable areas inside her limb joints.

Sinsi sprayed another hail of bolts into the next room and turned to see the Human diving out of reach and throwing the long pink shaft at Truvay, as the human rolled to her feet Truvay landed a blow that threw her across the room and into the wall, the human struck the wall a metre from the ground and fell heavily, "Kovac," she whimpered.

The target gave his position away by opening fire the bullets were wayward however and did not trouble Sinsi as she turned her lance and fired multiple bolts, the human had to throw himself flat to avoid them and this put him almost at Sinsi's feet. Truvay's collapse made her pause and she realised why the bullets had been wayward, that was when she saw the sisters holding the door had both fallen and then she remembered the lesson her old master had been so keen to teach her, "Kings and generals may fear our blades but the assassin should fear the cold efficiency of the professional soldier." She understood it as Kovac pulled the trigger.

As a species made mostly of gas and energy it is hard at times to watch the tactile galaxy interact, but never in my existence of Millenia have I tried so hard to intervene as when I watched the Flet's Hyte assassins try to murder Kovac.

Major Kovac staggered naked into the hallway, stepping over the dead Kitty assassins, "They had to take out some sentries to get this far. Find them, are the sentries OK!? Dana! Becca's hurt, go see to her, Wolf give me that bloody blanket I'm naked."

In minutes the bodies of the sentries were found, it was to my great joy that Knickers was found to be alive, terribly injured and weak but alive.

Humans do not appear as impressive as some other xenotypes in this galaxy but what is never taken into account is that for all their day to day weakness they can produce immense strength when excited, they may lack the speed of some races but they can combine what physical speed they have with prodigious speed of thought and action and most of all humans do not fight like those born with natural weapons, without claws humans turned their whole body into weapons.

[frivoloussuits]

The footnotes for my next fic (Theme and Variations) got monstrously long, so I’m putting them on tumblr!

“Then you don't know what you're talking about, because I've lived my whole life - not to be her.

“And when people do that, they very often become that very thing in a different way.”

- Harvey and Paula, S05E07

“And then, he just climbed up on the piano and started singing . . . Six years old. Right in the middle of the dinner party.

“My goodness. What did you do?”

“Well, the only thing we could do. Gordon grabbed his sax and gave him some backup.”

“You never told me you could sing.”

“Because he can't.”

- Lily and Paula, S07E13

The canonical timeline on Lily’s adultery is complicated. There is a flashback to Harvey walking in on her and another man when he was eight in S05E07 (“Honey, you remember our cousin-- my cousin Scott . . . And let's not tell Dad about cousin Scott, okay? 'Cause they don't get along.”) Harvey tells Mike in S02E10 that he discovered her adultery at age sixteen but didn’t say anything for two years. In S0507, Harvey discovers his mother cheating again and waits two weeks before informing Gordon about the affair. His relationship with Jessica is well-established at this point, so I speculate he is in his mid-twenties.

“They told me this is where I'd find women's softball.”

“It is now.”

- Harvey and Gordon, S03E06 (practicing baseball together)

“I don't know how to say this . . . Your dad, he had a heart attack.”

- Donna, S02E08

“It's my condolences, which I expected to leave on your desk, because I thought you'd be out mourning your father.”

“I had--”

“What, bigger fish to fry? Don't you see? That's what this place does. There's always bigger fish.”

“I am dealing how I deal.”

“Harvey, you've lost your way.”

- Zoe and Harvey, S02E08

Charles Bradley and the Menahan Street Band released “The World (Is Going Up In Flames)” as a vinyl record in 2007. This song plays repeatedly when Harvey’s dealing with emotionally charged situations. It was introduced in the pilot, in the scene where Mike reveals that he “failed . . . to not be awesome,” dances around Harvey’s office with his fingers in his ears, and then pretends to shoot a finger-gun at Harvey’s heart. Harvey pretends to be shot.

Here are some Gordon-related images, such as one of Harvey and Gordon drinking together in S03E06 and one of Gordon’s grave inscription. Harvey left scotch as an offering at the grave in S02E08.

The marijuana-induced conversation, along with gestures and expressions, is from S02E10.

Mike moves to investment banking at the end of season 3 and goes to prison at the end of season 5. He asks to have his wedding at Harvey’s apartment in S06E13. In S07E16 he has his wedding at a hotel and informs Harvey that he has accepted a more socially responsible position in Seattle.

“Harvey, you and me are going [to box]. Right now.”

“No, we're not.”

“Yes, we are. And it's happening whether you like it or not.”

. . .

“Just let it go, Dad.”

“Since when do I do that?”

“Since when were you around not to?”

“Excuse me?”

“I said let it go!”

“I'm not letting it go! You disrespected me, and you disrespected your brother and your mother and our guest. Now, I know something's up with you. I want to know what it is.”

“It's nothing.”

“It's not nothing!”

“Why are you doing this?”

“'Cause there's something wrong with my boy.”

“Something's wrong with me? What about you? How can you not see what is going on under your nose in your own goddamn house?”

“All right, son, stop!”

“I told her to stop, but I shouldn't have had to.”

“It's shouldn't have been me!”

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“You told her to stop what? What was your mother doing?”

“Bobby!”

- Gordon and Harvey, S05E10

“I don’t follow orders, I don’t bend a knee, I win.”

- Harvey, S08E12

Harvey repeatedly tries to make social plans with his coworkers in S8 and often fails. Gabriel Macht highlights this pattern in a recent interview.

Harvey and Robert get drunk at the Machel wedding reception in S08E01.

The scotch-laced phone calls to Mike and Donna occur in S08E13.

Gordon discusses his retirement plans before he finds about Lily’s adultery in S05E10.

Ginger and vanilla are common flavors in Macallan whiskey.

“When I was a kid, my father put me in boxing camp. Middle of summer, 90 degrees. Every day after sparring in that, they'd make you do 100 laps and 50 pull ups. They'd push you until you either threw up or passed out or both. Anyone could leave at any point, all you had to do was quit . . .  I quit every goddamn day. I just never said it out loud. Because no way was I going to give them the satisfaction of breaking me.”

- Harvey, S04E11

Bobby attends Gordon’s funeral in S06E12.

Harvey gives up managing partnership semi-willingly in S08E01. The privilege scandal occurs in the last episodes of S8.

“He pretty much said that he was about to lay himself down on the train tracks for you, and he wanted me to help tie him down.”

- Thomas about Harvey, S08E16

Harvey and Donna have sex in S08E16, before Donna and Thomas have ended their relationship. Aaron Korsh clarifies that while a Thomas/Donna break-up scene was filmed, it was cut to preserve the ethical complications of infidelity, in order “to have something to deal with in 9.01 and Season 9 in general.”

[findinganewshrubbery]

Old Bri’we & Xo’catl

_Xo’catl always surprised her on some level, no matter how many times she found him or, as was more common vice versa. He was a Primal, yes. He was the -Apex-, yes. Blood got him started but he held restraint tighter in his claws than she did. She knew this from how he had been present when she had taken Mag’s tongue, how his stance had subtly changed when her blood had hit the air, and how he had wanted to practically thrash the smoulderthorn and yet, had -asked- first. He was the same social rank as she was if she remembered correctly, but as she was handling it he had asked. She was always very careful to ask him to do things, and made a note to doubly so be certain to. He had respected her. She would respect him in turn.

That wasn't to say she didn't already respect him. He had kept a distance when they had first met. She had explained to him that it was simply because he was a larger male, she remembered. She never had asked what he thought of being considered by size and gender before being a primal even entered the picture. _

She ran. Somewhere there was a friend who was grieving just as much as everyone else, who she doubted anyone else save for the others of his pack would bother to check on him. She only slowed from time to time as she scented the ground and communed with the ambient flora. Did something large come through here? Yes. Good. She was on the right track. She ghosted along, a sliver of grey with a ruff of red mane sliding through the underbrush unseen.

_By the time she had realized she was bossing him around, telling him to sit and drink she had been surprised that he had actually complied. He was the leader of the pack. Supposedly he only obeyed the chief without question. If anyone else told us to drink strange liquids, he had mused, and she found herself both relieved and angered that he would trust her that much. What if someone comes to you wearing my face, she wanted to scold him. He knew the edges of how she considered herself a monster, and the words died in the back of her throat as she checked him over with a glance, seeing both inside of him and out. Minimal fel taint. Good. Otherwise unwounded. His regeneration had probably taken care of anything superfluous and he clearly had been fast enough to avoid anything serious. There were patches of fur missing, after all. Flesh healed faster for trolls than fur regrew. He was fine. Good. Now to tell him what he had missed._

She nearly lost his trail, overshooting it and heading down to the beach, pacing back and forth along the edge of the water as she sniffed and snuffled. No scent, no plants-

Stranglekelp in the water. She perked her ears and listened. Nothing interesting? She must have overshot it. She circled and sought out the edges of the scent she was tracking, finding it half-way up a small mountain. Yay, climbing. She grumbled as she continued.

_She had heard him, ears of a bat and all that. For once she was thankful that her shapeshifting was poor enough to have bleed-through effects that had warped her trollish natural form. Her sight was reduced, but her hearing was keen from the bat. The muscle tone she had built up was denser, from the bear. She had marginally better reflexes that compensated for how much heavier she was than normal from the panther. She could hold her breath better from the sea lion. Who did he have, she had wondered, to keep him company through his grief? The raptor, Ma’cua, but would that be enough? For the instinct side of things, maybe. But balance would serve better._

Her claws rasped against the stone as she made her way along, huffing as she settled on the relatively flat surface and took in the scent of old kills. It was well ventilated, but bones could only smell like bones, after all. Raptor hung heavy in the air, and the panther she wore was cautious, more so than she normally was. Step lightly, taskmaster, her instincts bade her. Today, we meet on -his- terms, his territory. It would be foolish to think for an instant that simply because he is acceptant of my antics at my perch, that he would automatically be so accepting in his own home, she told herself, and shed the spirit of the panther she wore.

No point in sneaking up on him, she mused. He likely already knows i’m here. Who could blame him if he snapped at her? Things happen. She just hoped if she needed to she could get enough distance to fly if she needed it. She was far enough away that the keening that sawed through her consciousness in the city was reduced to an ignorable whimper, and had the focus to do what she could.

The druid moved forward, unafraid.

She called to him, ears perked as she listened, moving forward once he grunted in response until she came to the ledge that was a good two feet over her head and, with resignation, reached to haul herself partially up and fold her arms to anchor herself, torso and legs flat against the stone. When he didn’t immediately tell her to bugger off, she deemed it safe enough to climb up and was both thankful that he spared her pride and also miffed that he didn’t reach back and help her up. As she spoke, she caught his ears flicking down at the reminder of the funeral she had just left. She gave him the trinket she had grown - one of three, for him, herself, and Kiki’ti - and asked if she could stay.

_“Do as you wish.”_

She paused to ponder what she wanted to do, down to the core of her being. She wanted to scream until she died of asphyxiation. She wanted to open up his skull to determine if the changes to his form were strictly external or if alterations to his brain had occurred to allow for better processing of extrasensory information that heightened senses often brought, she wanted to hit things and tear them apart with her hands as she sang and danced in the gore as the euphoria of taking the life of another living being surged through her while she kicked her heels up. She wanted to know if he needed a hug, if that was appropriate between friends.

_“Don’t really think that’d turn out too well.” She mused._

They went back and forth with idle chatter for some time, with her detailing the latest bout with Azan’ji and fighting the urge to ask the Apex if there was anything she could pass on to the primal fledglings, anything she could do to help in his absence so that the already iffy reputation of Primals wouldn’t be irrevocably damaged. She wanted to ask about how his experiment (the term sent a tingle of curiosity and excitement through her before she subdued it) was going, with working to allow Primals to perhaps spar with meatbags, but decided to hold onto that card until she ran thin on topics. She offered part of her thoughts on why she felt comfortable around Primals, that she knew she wouldn’t likely be able to beat one but if she could knock one down, she could plausibly get away. She mentioned she had knocked the Bear down, and flexed, making light of it to keep the mood positive.

When he mentioned she had beaten Jaws, she scoffed internally, replaying how she had gained momentum as a bat before letting the sturdiness of her bear bloom through her limbs, granting her mass and strength before bowling the tall Drakkari over and sitting on him. She remembered the feeling of being King that always came when she wore that form. She remembered how fast he had moved after she had let him up. She would never make the mistake of thinking that she could take a Primal on, one on one, fairly. If she -cheated-, of course that changed everything...

_“Don’t get it wrong, I knocked him over, not beat him.”_

He replied something to the effect that it was the same thing, and the rest of the evening passed in peace.

[the-idea-master]

Theyna Kingdom AU

Okay but I had thought of this a while ago. *Jason is too young to technically serve as a King so Thalia who is a year or two older takes over as Regent. Leading the kingdom until Jason is old enough. *Most people do not like the princess's take on things as she is much more lenient than her father was. She earns her self a reputation for being the 'Wild Royal.' *Eventually her advisors push her to find her brother a suitor so that the transition to his reign on the throne will be easier. *Thalia of course is opposed to this but can't hold out long against the royal court and public. *Thalia recalls a princess that had stayed briefly in the kingdom when she and her brother were both much younger. *Thalia decides to extend an invitation assuming the girl won't remember her brother or care that much but is surprised when she accepts. *This causes the castle to spur to life in preparations but in the letter Reyna, the princess, insists on nothing over the top or fancy. *Thalia however can't quell the castle's excitement and they make sure to fancy the place up. *Thalia in the mean time busies herself with all of the other fun things she does. For instance going out with her bunting party, practicing sword play and sports. *When she returns to the castle everything goes quiet and Thalia just can't figure out why until she spots he regal and young looking person who was talking to her brother. *Thats when Thalia realizes she's missed the arrival of her guest, shown up inexcusably late, with sleeves rolled up past her elbows, shirt too open to be considered courteous, sweaty, with wild hair, and sword in hand. *"Oh, well it appears my watch was running behind." It's a stupid joke as Thalia holds up her bare wrist for everyone to see. *Only Jason laughs. *"Right. Um, my dearest apologies for being late." Thalia glanced about awkwardly before deciding to approach the Puerto Rican princess. *Its custom to bow but Thalia was never one to study customs so she simply extends a calloused hand. *She expects Reyna to refuse, courtesy, or bow but instead Reyna smiled thinly and gives a firm shake. *Thalia can't help but notice that Reyna has a sturdy grip. *Once the awkward introduction is fixed things return to normal and Thalia leaves the Princess to her Brother's care. *Thalia tries to wear something more formal but even for her it doesn't fit regulation or standards. *Thalia doesn't wear the dresses other princess or girls if he court do. She wears clothes that resemble her brother but with her own style. Trousers and tail coats. *Reyna spends the day with Jason but can't help but find that despite his somewhat handsome appearance he isn't entirely experienced and rather...boring. *Of course she gets along with him fine, they are very similar and she enjoys the company of a friend but she keeps thinking back to his sister. *The girl was so far removed from typical royalty it had come as a shock to Reyna especially considering how poised Jason was. *"Is your sister always like that?" Reyna ends up asking to which Jason replies with a yes. That those of lower class on the kingdom find her refreshing but the others of high status hardly tolerate her spontaneity and adventurous personality. *"They say she does not act as a lady should. But she's always been that way and I adore her as she is." Jason had never done anything else but support his sister and her decisions. * That night at dinner Reyna is once again surprised to see that Thalia is not dressed like the others at the table. She does not wear a dress. She does not sit up straight or eat without her elbows off the table. She talks freely and damn she even burps once or twice. *Reyna finds it somewhat amusing and wishes at times she could be so carefree and lack such poise *Thalia tells Reyna that if she is ever in need of anything not to hesitate to ask. Reyna of course asks for Thalia's own opinion on her critics. *"Then? Well, I don't mind them much. I've done my job raising my brother in time I'll be pushed aside and he will take the throne. Things will go back to normal. And you will be by his side...hopefully." *Reyna finds it sort of sad that such a spunky and intriguing girl, who Jason says is good to the people, will be pushed to the back of the shelf so to speak. *Reyna continues to share her company with Jason and it is clear that he is as interested in her as she is in him. When asked Reyna discovers he likes the daughter of the tailor. *Reyna of course decides that it would be best to remove herself for his sake and Thalia discovers that the princess plans on leaving that evening. *Reyna slips away from the castle earlier than planned and when Thalia discovers this she doesn't hesitate to hop on the back of a horse and ride in pursuit. *Reyna's carriage is stopped and she peers out the window to see Thalia's horse rear back in front of the carriage. Reyna nearly smiles but hides her expression. *"Pardon my intrusion princess but I was not expecting you to leave so quickly." Thalia guides the horse to the window of the carriage and peers down at Reyna. "If there is anything that upset you or was not to your standard I wish for you to tell me. I do not do well with failure and would like a second chance to ensure that your stay is as homely as you desire." *Reyna can't help but feel flattered. She'd stayed at other castles before for similar reasons. Suitor purposes, but no one had ever extended such care to cater to her needs. *"Thank you but I'm afraid it's not something you could fix." Reyna sees the disappointed expression on Thalia's face. *The truth is Thalia was as fascinated by Reyna as Reyna was with her. She'd watched from a distance. Seen Reyna ride alongside Jason. The princess was more skilled than she seemed? More deadly. Thalia had noted her graceful power while the rest of the court saw her as a weak dame. *"I'm sorry to hear that." At Thalia's look of defeat Reyna can't help but feel guilty. After a moment of consideration she sighs and agrees to return. The smile that spreads on Thalia's face is well worth it. *Reyna could have easily stayed in the carriage but accepts Thalia's invitation for a ride. *Sitting on the back of the horse Reyna wraps her arms around Thalia and is surprised once again by the other princess. *Reyna can tell she's incredibly strong. She can feel the firm core muscles and wiry muscles that cover her shoulders. One wouldn't notice by Thalia's tall and lanky frame especially with the clothes she chose to wore. *Later once back at the castle Thalia excuses herself but Reyna's curiosity gets the best of her and she follows from afar. *Its dark and Reyna finds Thalia outside sparring with an imaginary opponent blade glistening. "It's better if you have someone to fight against." *"You? In a dress?" Thalia teases to which Reyna collects a sword and walks over pointing the made at the person she now considers a friend. *The two get kicked in a duel of the ages of course it's fun and games but it doesn't mean blood isn't drawn. *When the game is over with a fit of laughter they take a walk into the nearby hunting grounds and Thalia for some reason opens up about her life. *Reyna finds that they have a lot in common and begins reflecting on her own life. She can't help but find that it's easier conversing with Thalia than Jason. *Only trouble begins when the two girls are cornered by a pack of slobbering and mangy wolves. Reyna left her sword behind leaving Thalia with the only weapon. *Thalia doesn't hesitate to attack the predators and Reyna is surprised by her bravery. Knowing it's useless to stay she runs to retrieve help. *Only she doesn't need to, after returning to the gate of the castle Thalia emerges from the woods two minutes later with a tattered and blood stained jacket but she smiles. *"Told 'em to go home. Royal orders." Reyna can't help but laugh and shake her head but insists on treating Thalia's wounds. *Thalia refuses at first before accepting and leads Reyna to her quarters ignoring the baffled looks she earns. *Thalia is surprised to find that Reyna is rather adept in the medical field most likely due to her reckless sister. *So far nothing rather intimate had occurred and he Two just considered themselves rather closer friends. Only as Thalia strips out of her tattered clothes to only wear a pair of trousers and have a bounded chest Reyna's heart nearly explodes. *Reyna knew the girl was fit but it's entirely different now. She stares intently unable to help it and Thalia notices shifting uncomfortably beneath Reyna's gaze. *It's a bit awkward at first but Reyna makes a point of being gentle and Thalia relaxes until her wounds are effectively bandaged. She's beyond exhausted but notices Reyna's clothes are now bloodstained. *"Here." Thalia stands up shakily and retrieves Reyna an outfit from her own selection. "You'll be more comfortable in this. I know you only pretend to enjoy dresses." *Reyna is hesitant at first but accepts and sets them aside. This earns a curious look from Thalia. Reyna insists hat hey continue their conversation from early to which Thalia agrees but only after Reyna has changed into more comfortable clothes and returns. *The two girls fall asleep together and Jason discovers them curled together in bed with his sister half dressed with bandaged wounds. He smiled and eases the door shut knowing they have yet to realize that they are completely in love with one another. *Thalia wakes up first but it's not awkward. In fact she feels oddly comfortable with the predicament she's in. She takes the opportunity to study Reyna's features and her heart flutters because wow she's beautiful. *The two go their separate ways but each evening they spend more and more time together and other members of the royal court begin to notice. *Soon enough the girls fall for each other completely and totally and have small secret exchanges together until it's so painfully obvious they can't keep it a secret anymore. *Jason gains the courage from the openness in their relationship to admit his feelings for Piper the tailor's daughter and steps down from his future reign much to everyone's surprise. *Jason moved to the country side leaving the kingdom to his sister he always knew was capable of leading justly and fairly. *The public is more than ecstatic for the two princesses and once Thalia officially gains complete rule she fires all of her officials and replaces them with locals. *The kingdom is the happiest its ever been and the wedding between the two princesses is surprisingly simple but everyone is invited and everything is so much better than it was.

[rilenerocks]

One of the things I remember Michael saying to me on many occasions was that he thought I was the most singularly unchanged person that he ever knew. I was forever trying to decide if I should take that as a compliment or not. Since I was only 20 when we met, I figured that in the 46 years we knew each other he probably had a fair view of my behavior. In the end, I agreed with him and viewed “unchanged” not in a pejorative manner, but in a positive one. I’m consistent. My belief system has been in place for a very long time. Of course, I’ve grown, developed, evolved. But my core, my fundamental self is pretty much the same as it was when I was teenager. For people who know me well, that means I’m predictable. And complicated.

My brain speeds along at a rapid clip. I’m always processing. As yet, my motherboard hasn’t failed me. Which means nothing is ever just simple for me. I remember when I saw the movie, The Last Samurai. At a moment when the Tom Cruise character was getting his rear end kicked over and over during sparring practice, a friendly warrior came up to him, tapped him on the forehead and said, “too many mind.” I can relate. I’ve been working on slowing down and adopting practices that to help me

when my start spinning too fast.

I learned how to do revitalizing meditations to help me stay calm and cerebral when Michael was sick and needed my help. I have the Calm app on my phone and I use it regularly. I’m pretty zen when I swim. Still, a lot of my time is spent thinking, analyzing and considering, often about multiple topics simultaneously. It’s just how I roll. I think all this began when I was really young because I remember these same feelings and thoughts from my childhood.

    And so it was on my long-desired trip to Glacier National Park, which in its essence was everything I dreamed of and more. I’ve been to a good number of national parks, Acadia just last month. Certain ones had more impact than others. I’ll never forget Bryce Canyon, Zion and Arches. I got to experience those with Michael which enhanced their majesty and spiritual power for me. Being on my own in Glacier, it was all about me, with my forever bond with Michael, tucked into my most interior self, like an extra vital organ. But I saw and felt Glacier through the lens I bring to everything, the one when I am simultaneously in my moment while my mind is zipping along, connecting that moment to how I perceive the world.

    I went to Glacier by train which is a great way to travel and really see parts of the country that are off the main road and certainly hidden when flying. I spent almost all my waking hours staring out the window. I don’t want to miss anything. I’ve never tired of seeing cattle and horses, not since I was a little kid traveling up and back between Iowa and Chicago. On an overnight rail trip, there is so much more as you travel from state to state. I saw buffaloes and donkeys.

    Numerous white tailed deer grazing and springing through the fields right next to the domestic animals. I saw a swift fox. I saw American white pelicans, great blue herons, American kestrels, a ring necked pheasant and lots of red winged blackbirds, mallard ducks and rabbits.

    I saw fields planted with beans and wheat and other crops I can’t identify by sight.

    The vistas are endless and impressive.

    But I also saw small towns that looked economically ravished. Aging buildings and others that have already fallen. There’d be this gorgeous green landscape and suddenly piles of junked cars and garbage would appear.

    The shabbiness was a stark contrast to the surrounding lush earth. And then came big sky. Endless miles of beautiful land, absolutely empty. In my mind I was envisioning herds of buffalo and tipis and the native people who made their lives here for countless years before being decimated by the relentless move west by settlers and power brokers. I’m sure that much of the land I saw was owned by big ranching concerns. But it felt so wrong. All the beauty tarnished for me. I can appreciate it but not without thinking of the cost to the people who lived here. Then the reservation appears.

The Blackfeet  reservation is actually a conglomeration of tribes whose general name is Niitsitapi which means “the real people.” I saw buildings with the words “no meth” painter boldly across the walls. The very idea of reservations appalls me. Would you like to live with your people in a designated area? Me neither.

    The Blackfeet tribe has rights to parts of Glacier National Park which include their most spiritual locations such as Two Medicine. Ceremonies are still performed there such as sun dances, while sweat lodges are built for the transitions and rituals of native life. I took a boat ride on Two Medicine Lake and went through their valley. You can feel a powerful spiritual presence there. I opened myself up to let it blend in with me and Michael and my own belief system. Certainly not the same as theirs but nonetheless connected if by nothing other than the surrounding natural majesty. The natives call some of the mountains the backbone of the earth. It’s not hard to understand why.

    I stayed in East Glacier Lodge which is a beautiful old building with no televisions and sketchy internet. It lends itself well to getting in touch with what this place is supposed to mean to human beings. Their staff all seem to share a common attitude of preserving the nature of the park and its mystical energy. There are tributes to the natives throughout the lodge and the park although for me, it wasn’t enough. Keeping a piece of your ancestral land rings hollow to me. I saw a tall Native American man tending flowers at another lodge. He resembled Will Sampson who played the chief in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. He seemed to enjoy what he was doing and had positive interactions with a few people working with him. Maybe his life is happy. Maybe I’m the one with the problem.

    Let me stop and say that I felt everything I hoped to feel at Glacier. As I stood before mountains that are estimated to be between 1600 and 800 million years old, I felt my smallness and the tiny place that I know I occupy, even when things feel huge. I felt the fabric of connection that still binds me to Michael and my love for the earth and its marvels. But then the guide told us that the remaining 20-odd glaciers are expected to be gone by 2030. Unimaginable. Was this destined to happen over a long period of time or isn’t it part of the upheaval we’re seeing all over the world. Climate change. I’ve heard all the arguments from people who say it’s been hot before, we’ve had hurricanes before, we’ve had fires before. Blah-blah-blah. Our planet is threatened. I have no doubt. Blazing hot temperatures in Alaska. Water supplies in India drying up. Europe sweltering. The hottest June on record. Ever. I’m not capable of simply enjoying my good fortune without thinking about all these frightening things. I’ll be dead before the worst stuff happens. But what about all the children and grandchildren? I have hope that brilliant people will find ways to turn some of this around. That we’ll stop burning fossil fuels. That we’ll get rid of plastic in the oceans. That a place like Glacier will still have snowy peaks in the summer. But to ignore it for my own mental well-being? No can do. I had the privilege of seeing so much wildlife in the park. I saw a black bear, a moose, long horned sheep, elk and mountain goats. They’re just doing their thing. But a lot can threaten the ecosystem that supports them and I worry.

    Through the train window I saw the amount of flooding that occurred when the Mississippi overflowed its banks, not to mention the smaller rivers nearby. The wooded area and retaining ponds along the tracks are filled with mile after mile of algae bloom. That can’t be a good thing. As I watched animals drinking from this green pea soup I wondered about the chemical runoff from farms into the water table. Not to mention what can happen to people’s drinking water. Still thinking of Flint over here.

    So yes, I am thrilled that I got to see this incredible wonder for what is likely the only time in my life. I think that inner city kids from everywhere should be brought on field trips to experience this magnificent place or others like it so they can make an early commitment to trying to rescue the earth and each other. I can’t go back and undo the genocide that happened long before I arrived. But I think it should be remembered and never ignored. Another thing Michael said to me frequently was this: “ Great. So as long as you know that somewhere someone might be having a problem or that there are systemic issues, you’re going to be bummed out. Living with you will sure be fun.” Well, we did have fun. But there’s more to life than that.

Overdrive One of the things I remember Michael saying to me on many occasions was that he thought I was the most singularly unchanged person that he ever knew.

[battybat-boss]

Pediatric Child Abuse “Experts” are NOT Experts in Anything

Some of the Pediatric Child Abuse Specialist doctors covered in Health Impact News Medical Kidnapping articles.

Commentary by Terri LaPoint Health Impact News

A common denominator in many of the cases of medical kidnapping that we have covered at Health Impact News is the presence of a Child Abuse Specialist doctor. Time and again we have reported stories where a parent takes a child to a hospital for one reason or another, only to find themselves accused of child abuse by a Child Abuse Pediatrician, even when there are real medical conditions present.

Once that accusation is made, doctors almost universally stop looking for any other explanation for a child's symptoms, sometimes jeopardizing the health of the child doctors are supposed to be helping. The child is usually separated from his or her parents and is frequently placed in the care of strangers – a practice that, in itself, is harmful to children.

Parents tend to assume that the doctors are concerned about finding out what is wrong with their child. They do not expect that they may encounter a doctor whose role aligns more with prosecutors and police officers than it does with the practice of medicine.

Defense attorneys in Virginia have recently discovered what could be termed an “unholy alliance” between prosecutors and a child abuse team at Children's Hospital of the King's Daughters (CHKD) in Norfolk.

According to the Daily Press, the Virginia attorneys are concerned that:

the agreement - which they learned of only recently - makes CHKD doctors part of the “prosecution team” rather than truly independent experts, which they fear could tip the scales of justice.

The contracted agreement has been in place since, at least, 2013 in that location. How many other similar contracts exist around the country? Such an agreement could provide a partial explanation for troubling practices that many families have encountered when taking their children to their local children's hospitals.

See some of our coverage of Child Abuse Specialists:

Are New Pediatric “Child Abuse Specialists” Causing an Increase in Medical Kidnappings?

California Christian Homeschool Family Torn Apart as Children are Medically Kidnapped, Forced into Public School, and Mother is Forced out of Family Home

Dr. Carole Jenny – Head of Seattle Children's Hospital's Child Abuse Fellowship. Source.

The Child Abuse Pediatricians are not experts in radiology, orthopedics, neurology, or other specialties in medicine. Yet parents often find that Child Protective Services, attorneys, or their judge are not open to any other medical possibility or diagnosis once the seemingly omniscient and all-powerful Child Abuse doctor has spoken.

Parents who know that they have not hurt their child, and that there has to be another explanation, often seek out other doctors and medical experts.

A parent may have 6, 8, or as many as a dozen reports from medical experts – even doctors who are renowned in their field of specialty, only to have those reports ignored or minimized by CPS and the court. Many times judges refuse to even look at such reports, choosing instead to take the word of a doctor who is not qualified to make a medical judgement on many conditions.

Families with medically-complex children are particularly at risk from such doctors.

These doctors have accused parents of abuse when their child has a condition that is known to mimic abuse, such as Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, osteogenesis imperfecta, or infantile rickets.

Child Abuse Specialist Kathryn Rausch Crowell, M.D. – Penn State Hershey Medical Group. Source.

Symptoms of Shaken Baby Syndrome, or SIDS, may be attributable to other causes, such as vaccine injury, strokes, seizures, prematurity, or pitocin-induced labor. Birth injuries are sometimes missed at the time of birth and then blamed on the parents later. (See link.)

If a parent threatens to take legal action against a hospital or doctor for medical malpractice, it is very common for that parent to be accused of Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy or medical child abuse.

According to our research with families of medically kidnapped children, usually within 24 hours of the threat of malpractice being made, CPS is called, and the child is seized.

Defense Lawyers, Prosecutors Spar over Hospital's Agreement to Help Prosecute Cases

by Peter Dujardin Daily Press

Excerpts:

Some criminal defense attorneys are crying foul over longstanding agreements between a famed local hospital - Children's Hospital of the King's Daughters - and local police and prosecutors to cooperate on child abuse investigations.

But prosecutors say there's nothing wrong with the agreements - and that the lawyers' assertions are baseless.

The deals are between CHKD, a Norfolk-based hospital, and local commonwealth's attorneys, city attorneys, police and social service agencies from six area cities: Newport News, Hampton, Norfolk, Chesapeake, Portsmouth and Virginia Beach.

The “memorandums of understanding” have been in existence since at least 2013.

“We, the undersigned agencies … do hereby agree to the continuation of a multidisciplinary team to better investigate, diagnose and prosecute cases of child maltreatment,” according to the agreements between Children's Hospital of the King's Daughters and the other entities. The teams, coordinated through CHKD, also agree to “exchange information” as part of the investigations.

The Agreement Explains Things

Deputy Newport News Public Defender David Lee contends that the fact that CHKD is working so closely with prosecutors helps explain things.

“You kind of get the sense that this organization has one thumb on the scales of justice,” he said. “For a long time I've been brooding over the fact that whenever CHKD doctors testify in court, in very, very ambiguous factual circumstances, they nevertheless consistently find clear evidence that injuries were inflicted due to abuse - as opposed to accidents, or some sort of underlying medical condition, or some other reason.”

Moreover, Lee asserts that prosecutors had a legal obligation to share the existence of the agreement with criminal defense attorneys before trial. If the lawyers had known about it, he said, they could have attempted to demonstrate in court that CHKD experts are biased.

Child Abuse Doctors – Working for the Prosecution

“People think, it's CHKD, it's just for the kids,” Lee said. “The prosecutors who call them as witnesses are cashing in on the goodwill that CHKD has created. … Because people don't know. When the prosecutor calls them (to the stand), they don't say they are a CHKD doctor who signed an agreement with prosecutors to prosecute people. The jurors just know it's a CHKD doctor.”

Another veteran defense attorney, J. Ashton Wray Jr., also contends the agreements mean that CHKD is “part of the prosecution's team.”

“That's the shameful thing about this - they are being offered as almost independent experts,” Wray said. “So you want to ask the jurors, 'Do you understand that the witnesses that CHKD has here are not as independent as (true) independent witnesses?' … That's what's not been revealed to juries. It will be now.”

A third defense lawyer, Ron Smith, said he's long sensed that CHKD experts come to court with a seeming stake in the outcome, more so than many state medical and forensics experts who testify.

“Their witnesses do come to court advocating a position,” Smith said of CHKD. “They don't just come to court just looking at the facts. They advocate with the commonwealth. … That's always been my experience, and I think that's a common experience.”

Newport News Deputy Commonwealth's Attorney Ruth Burdge attempts to minimize the concerns of the defense attorneys:

“To me, this is just silly,” Burdge said. “We've got people dying, and somebody's going to try to paint a bad light about something that's done to just help children. … This is what people want to make a big deal about?”

Read the full article at the Daily Press.

Dr. Alice Newton, Medical Director of the Child Protection Program at Massachusetts General Hospital. Her testimony has wrongly convicted parents of Child Abuse. She is currently being sued for malpractice in the Justina Pelletier case. Image Source.

Ethics Concerns in Child Abuse Investigations

The defense attorneys in Virginia are not alone in questioning the ethics of the Child Abuse Specialist doctors as essentially law enforcement officers masquerading as doctors.

George J. Barry and Diane L. Redleaf of the Family Defense Center in Chicago, Illinois, published a 115-page paper in 2014 in which they raised similar concerns.

In “Medical Ethics Concerns in Physical Child Abuse Investigations,” the authors point out that these doctors essential become interrogators:

Where a child is held by a hospital ER staff or by nursing staff while his or her parents are being separately questioned about the child's injuries, often behind closed doors and in an accusatory manner, important elements of a detention are present.

When the social worker or physician who is doing the questioning promptly reports the parent's statements to the police and child protection agencies, concerns about that detention being coercive are obvious.

When the questioning also occurs without any notification of rights, without disclosure that the information is being sought pursuant to a state-funded contract, and with the added possible elements of lack of food and sleep and parental worry about the injured child's condition, the questioning that might appear to the medical community to be benign and well-intentioned is readily perceived by the person being questioned as a coercive interrogation under detention….

In this regard, persons held “involuntarily” fall within the AMA definition of “detainee.”

Child Abuse “Experts” – NOT Experts in Anything

As we have pointed out many times at Health Impact News, the Child Abuse Specialist doctors are not specialists in many areas that are necessary in order to differentiate between legitimate medical conditions and child abuse. The Family Defense Center points out that doctors are increasingly admonished in the child abuse pediatrics literature to defer to the wiser judgement of the Child Abuse Specialist. However:

A physician who is not a child abuse pediatrician may wonder how child abuse pediatricians can possibly claim a superior ability to draw conclusions as to whether a bone fracture or subdural hematoma is due to child abuse, especially if superiority of child abuse pediatrician's opinion over that of orthopedists, neurosurgeons and radiologists is claimed (as it has been in many Illinois cases on which the Family Defense Center has worked).

Because many different areas of medicine come into play in the determination of whether a particular injury is the result of abuse, a child abuse pediatrician cannot credibly claim to be expert in all of them.

Dr. Deborah Lowen – Head of the Child Abuse team at Vanderbilt. Source.

Hence, using the term “Child Abuse Expert” for a medical doctor, is really an oxymoron. The doctor typically holds no other medical specialty, and the people trained to find abuse of children are law enforcement officers and detectives, trained in forensic science, not medical science. Child Abuse Experts are not trained in forensic science or law enforcement.

So they really are not “experts” in anything.

For more information, see:

Child Abuse Pediatricians: An “Ethically Bankrupt” Profession that Destroys Families

Finding “Child Abuse” Motivated by Funding, not Actual Abuse

The Child Abuse Specialist teams at many Children's Hospitals are funded, at least in part, by government grants and non-profit organizations. According to Barry and Redleaf:

One example of governmental funding would be the Multidisciplinary Pediatric Education and Evaluation Consortium [MPEEC] arrangement in Illinois.

In Kentucky, the Pediatric Forensic Medicine team at the University of Louisville was created with a grant from Kosair Charities in 2007 and has been funded in later years with on-going grants from that same non-profit organization. Both of Kentucky's certified Child Abuse Pediatricians are members of this group.

The MPEEC is a partnership between Child Protective Services in the Chicago area and specific hospitals, including Comer Children's Hospital and Lurie Children's Hospital, according to the 2013-2017 Strategic Plan of the Chicago Children's Advocacy Center (link here).

Our readers may remember Lurie Children's Hospital. They were responsible for the medical kidnapping of Isaiah Rider (see our coverage of his story here) and Baby Malik (story here).

Isaiah Rider was finally reunited with his mother, but they still battle the trauma they suffered after Lurie Hospital doctors and DCFS kidnapped him. Photo source. Story here.

Malik was a baby when Lurie and DCFS took him from his family, who is working to help him to heal. Photo provided by family. Story here.

The first item listed on the Children's Advocacy Center action plan is to:

Increase total annual revenue over five years to $8 million

Increase unrestricted annual revenue by 75% to approximately $3 million

The focus of the plan seems to be more about marketing than caring for children. Another point on the action plan is to:

Bring internal stakeholders together around a unified brand promise.

What is a “brand promise” and why is it part of an organization that purports to be about protecting abused children?

A priority for the MPEEC program is to:

serve kids in Cook City; add partner hospital; add allegations [Emphasis added by HIN]

Parents who have encountered social workers and Child Abuse Specialists are likely not surprised about the priority of adding allegations. Numerous parents have told us that the workers pad reports with as many allegations as they can come up with, throwing them out in the hopes that “something sticks.”

Many Innocent Parents Accused by Child Abuse Doctors

Only 17% of the allegations against parents are “substantiated” or “founded,” according to the 2016 Child Maltreatment Report by the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services (Source). This figure, says the Family Defense Center, includes allegations by doctors:

Not only are the substantial majority of Hotline calls deemed to be “unfounded” upon investigation, but there has been a documented 75% rate of error in those indicated findings that are reviewed on appeal.

The Family Defense Center … exonerates nearly 90% of the parents it represents in hearings before the DCFS administrative law judges, including many cases in which child abuse pediatricians have written opinions stating abuse was “more likely than not.”

“Better safe than sorry” reporting may be safe for doctors, but it is not the legal standard and it is not safer for families.

“Protected”? The Headley boys were taken from their family based on the word of a Child Abuse Specialist. They were eventually reunited, but all suffered abuse and trauma in foster care. One was sexually molested in a group home. Photo supplied by family. Story here.

Conflict of Interest Should Be Disclosed

The report asserts that the conflict of interest between the doctors and state should be, as the Virginia defense attorneys claim, fully disclosed to parents if:

the child abuse pediatrician operates under a contract to provide forensic opinions to the state child protection agency and is paid at least in part by the state or by a non-profit child protection organization.

Parents need to be informed:

That the parent has a right to refuse the interview and to decline to give consent to the examination and record review and any refusal will not affect the care and treatment the child receives at the hospital.

Social Workers and Judges Duped by Child Abuse Specialists

Child Abuse Specialists have held themselves out to be THE expert on all things child abuse related. Their papers and statements amount to clever marketing of a particular agenda, squeezing out all competition, whether it comes in the form of actual medical experts or of parents, who just want what is best for their child.

Social workers, attorneys, GALs, judges, and the media have bought their propaganda hook, line, and sinker.

Barry and Redleaf write:

In the rush to establish their expertise, child abuse pediatricians in the MPEEC program have trained DCFS investigators to consider their opinions as to bone fractures and head injuries to be of greater validity than those of subspecialists.

Because of administrative convenience, such exaggerated claims of superior expertise by child abuse pediatricians in determining whether an injury was accidental or inflicted continues to gain acceptance among state child protection agencies who are acting to deprive parents of custody of their children or who are otherwise grossly interfering with family life.

Moreover, judges who ultimately resolve these matters can be persuaded to see beyond the superficial conclusion that the child must have been abused because the child abuse pediatrician says so, but this effort may require both specialized legal representation and the services of medical specialists that are simply not available to all innocent parents.

Dr. Nancy Henderson – Child Abuse Specialist at Greenville Memorial Hospital, SC. Image from YouTube.

Shouldn't Child Abuse Specialists Be Required to Read “Miranda Rights” to Parents?

The authors of the Family Defense Center Paper list a concluding recommendation that:

No Child Abuse Pediatrician should participate in the interrogation of a parent whose child is being held involuntarily at the hospital or in other circumstances that make the parent's participation less than informed.

The typical doctor/patient relationship does not exist, and the Child Abuse Specialist has essentially assumed the role of investigator or prosecutor.

Countless parents have lost their children, or even been incarcerated, based on the court testimony of such doctors, even when there is abundant evidence that they are innocent and that their child has a genuine medical condition that the parents did not cause.

If child abuse pediatricians proceed with questioning of a parent, they should fully inform parents about their role in the ensuing law enforcement and child protection investigation including any contracts they have to perform evaluations for third parties.

Parents should not be misled into thinking that they are being asked questions by and providing information to the doctor to aid in the treatment of their sick or injured child when in fact they are being asked questions solely to assist a government-funded investigation into whether their denial of child abuse is credible.

Read the full report by The Family Defense Center here.

Outside of the Corrupt Family Court System, Judges are Increasingly Throwing out Child Abuse Convictions if Opposing Medical Testimony is Not Presented at Trial

While social workers and judges sitting on the bench, ruling over child custody matters, continue to rely heavily on the reports of Pediatric Child Abuse Specialists, in cases where parents or care givers have been convicted in criminal court of child abuse, judges are increasingly throwing out these convictions, or retrying cases, where opposing medical testimony was not given that could give other explanations for a child's medical condition besides abuse diagnosed by a doctor.

The Innocence Project is currently taking on Shaken Baby Syndrome cases where parents and care givers have been convicted of child abuse in all 50 states.

See:

Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts Opens the Legal Door to Retry All Shaken Baby Syndrome Convictions

Attorneys Being Trained to Fight Bogus Child Abuse Charges used in Medical Kidnappings

University of Michigan Law School Awarded $250K to Learn How to Defend Shaken Baby Syndrome Cases

Swedish Health Agency Rejects “Science” of Shaken Baby Syndrome

Dr. David Ayoub is an American radiologist and expert on infantile rickets who has testified in court showing that what is often determined to be “child abuse,” based solely on the examination of x-rays, can often be explained by other medical conditions.

Dr. Ayoub states that “tens of thousands” of parents may be wrongfully incarcerated for Shaken Baby Syndrome and child abuse.

I get about 1 case per day request, and they are nearly 100% rickets cases. It is RARE that I get a normal bone referral, less than 1%.

I am sure I am consulted in less than 1% of all ongoing cases (regarding SBS charges of child abuse).

There are easily 2,000 cases per year of fractures in infants since the 1980s.

50,000 cases is a reasonable estimate. (Source)

See Also:

Neuropathologist Doctor: I Believed in Shaken Baby Syndrome until Science Showed I was Wrong

Comment on this article at MedicalKidnap.com.

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[eigenmotion-blog]

BEFORE WE GET STARTED

BEFORE WE Begin Understand itself defense is for all ages, all communities, all body types, all of the the time.  Your skin color, sex, neighborhood, workplace, income level and also any other variable do not exclude you from being a target of crime.  If you have a gentle goal you can get chosen.  This list intends to allow you to a tricky target, a tough marker to get a criminal to reduce any such thing from even happening but nothing is fool proof.  In this case, no amount of training or awareness is "crime-proof" but it's helpful.  These self defense tips will really cause more inmates to skip you but the reality remains that there continue to be times when, even your extreme vigilance is still inadequate to prevent a bad guys plans. All training and knowledge comes out of a police foundation through COBRA and offers insight to how a criminal believes unlike any additional training encounter.  Recommended reading is "The Psychology of Personal Defense".  You'll find it for sale on Amazon. The Ideal self defense tipsNo1 -- LOCK AND RELOCATE You moved directly into the food store for a evening ice cream series.  In the road back into a vehicle in the parking lot you are thinking of the perfect status upgrade to place with a fuzzy image about your trip and following plans to devour the whole pint.  You achieve your vehicle, unlock the doors, place your goods on the passenger seat and then wind up launching your cellular program.  You're a sitting duck and a simple target.  Criminals like to watch and wait for their opportunity.  They saw you walk in and judged you to be weaker and smaller compared to those.  Then they stayed hidden within a close distance to a own vehicle ready to enact their plan up on your return. Consistently LOCK the door immediately upon sitting in your car and RELOCATE.   This starts our simple self defense tips and can be 1 concept to live by. No2 -- SMART Socialmedia Yet another interpersonal media example here, but you should be real you are utilizing it and it is a major part of our society today for everything from business to pleasure.  Now I'm confident you are not buddies using a maniacal offense boss or wicked henchmen but let's imagine your kid's friend from across the street is able to understand your profile and one of his friends isn't the very best of influences.  See the connections which can be made here?  Putting where you are, that you'll alone during a definite period of time, going on holiday or otherwise announcing your aims ahead of time is not ever a great thing.  Ladies make an effort to avert this form of update; "Time to enjoy a bath and a movie in a lonely Saturday night having a glass of wine".  You don't know that the seemingly benign work acquaintance is obsessed with you, has found your speech through a series of basic internet hunts and will arrive unannounced.  You simply gave the bad guy Time and Position for a prime opportunity.  This leads us into our simple TPM formula that all bad guys dominate.   It's possible to get a handle on your time and set to a degree but the badguy will also have the drop for you when he chooses action. Discussing of societal websites however....you should definitely  follow our Facebook webpage from more updates Discussing of societal media however....you should definitely  follow our FB webpage from more upgrades #3 -- Comprehend In Tent Criminals need something from you personally.  The most common are "Real Estate, Pleasure, Perversion or Revenge" That really is their aim.  I recently had been asked regarding ATM safety and self defense and seemed on WTSP Channel 10 TAMPA.  My information has been to be compliant and escape with no violence occurring.  You can cancel your credit cards, regain your money or replace your jewelry in a later time as you're going to be alive!  You won't ever know what weapon that criminal has, just how shaky they're of course if there is certainly another criminal with him hiding within the shadows.  When it is property afterward smart compliance, correct distancing and taking in a full description of this robber may be your way to go.  But if the crime is switched into some one of those other categories of intent it is time to fight with everything you have.  This necessitates training.  Any amount of reality selfdefense training is much better than nothing.  The key phrase there's REALITY.  Make certain that you are training for reality dependent situations in a program that is based around those adventures.  (Plug for COBRA Selfdefense) Self Defense tips for women #4 -- ASSESS YOUR MOST VULNERABLE MOMENTS Think of a criminal.  I understand it's hard for us who comply laws and awaken in the daytime to work a real job however it's crucial when looking to reengineer a game want to work against them.  My wife was putting our new born daughter into her carseat above a yr ago and that I was still getting used to the whole routine.  There she had been dutifully at work attempting to secure an infant with her purse dangling off her out shoulder, head buried inside the car and her back into the world for a good 3 minutes.  This is an opportunity.  We immediately realized this and began practicing at home until we can scan the region, simply take care of procuring the child and be prepared to LOCK and re-locate in under 30 seconds.  Where are you most vulnerable?

A self defense program, a taser, pepper spray, a gun, years of martial arts training.  These are all wonderful selfdefense tools but they do not stop criminals from beginning their way.  Have you ever had to make use of your taser in a real life attack?  Have you ever used your martial arts learning street combat or merely in sparring?  When you own something such as a taser, gun or other apparatus then practice using it regularly.  Take it from this's concealed location and tip it.  Go to the range to shoot each week.  Always remember that reality and real time functions much differently compared to game and theory.  Having been a powerful athlete and been trained in kick boxing I always thought I could manage a dangerous situation when it ever arose.  After being a part of a COBRA presentation 4 years ago I realized I was not prepared.  Everything I thought I'd do immediately collapsed and also my strength and martial arts skill disintegrated into a big confused mess.  Under stress the body starts to seek our experience files  for a way to solve the life-threatening issue.  The heartbeat increases, tunnel vision ensues and fight or flight gets control.  Even police officers/military still get a degree with this and they have been around in combat conditions!  Imagine how you, together with NO training could react?  There's no reality based experience file for your stress response to find in that moment therefore that it grabs onto whatever it can.  Maybe that means you fall to floor and pay up.   Worst of you all do nothing.  You suspend.  Don't be lulled to sleep since you bought a device/tool that many people state may be that the "ultimate self defense".  Practice avoidance daily and also become proficient with your weapon or apparatus.  

[mingmagazine-blog]

5 Reasons Your Daughter Should Train In Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu

So, you’re a dad that worries about his daughter, right? I get it. It’s natural to worry about your little girl. It’s rough out there for them. They have school, sports, and other interests to worry about. Us dads worry about boyfriends, parties, and other antics. She ventures off into the world on a daily basis and you wonder how she protects herself when you aren’t around. We worry about her possibly becoming a victim of a crime, whether it is a robbery or sexual assault. What can I do to ensure her safety and security? Ideally, her learning how to use a gun and carrying one (depending on age) would be the best defense. Since some of us live in states that are harsh on gun ownership, we have to seek alternative means of self-defense. Do we give them pepper spray, a knife, or maybe a stun gun? I would suggest one or all. What if they can’t get to those things fast enough? Well, say hello to Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu!

What is Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu?

Pictured Left: The most famous Gracie due to his dominance at UFC 1, Royce Gracie, performing a Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu technique

Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu is a grappling Martial Art that is conducted in a Gi; without it, it’s referred to as No-Gi. You can trace its roots back to Japan. Judo master and founder Kano Jigoro sent his student Mitsuyo Maeda on an expedition around the world to spread his teachings. Maeda eventually ended up in Brazil challenging martial artist from every style imaginable. On his voyage to Brazil, he met Gastao Gracie, a local businessman. Maeda instructed Gastao’s son Carlos in the art of judo or jiu-jitsu. Carlos passed his knowledge to his brothers. Carlos’ little brother Helio decided to develop a more pragmatic style of jiu-jitsu that concentrates on ground fighting.

The Gracie Family are the most prominent family in all of mixed martial arts. Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu is basically about controlling your opponent while maintaining balance and using your opponents momentum against them (size does not matter!). It’s also an art of submissions by using an assortment of chokes (blood and air chokes), leg locks, and cranks (generally head or neck cranks). Sounds good, right?

The 5 Reasons

Self-defense.

BJJ is a combination of using judo, wrestling, and submission grappling to control and incapacitate your attacker

As ugly as this may sound, sex crimes against females are a prominent occurrence in our world. First of all, children, especially young girls are the target for sexual predators such as pedophiles, sex traffickers, and rapist. Predators tend to prey on the weak. Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu is a tool that will help lessen the chances of your daughter becoming a victim of a heinous act. Secondly, maybe your daughter has a bully in school that she needs to deal with and doesn’t know how. Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu’s is the ultimate nemesis of bullies everywhere (google “BJJ kids beats up bully,” and you will find several videos on YouTube). BJJ uses a would-be attacker’s body weight and momentum against them.

This is a martial art built for small people. A novice or white belt in BJJ has the strong possibility of overcoming an attacker who has no training at all. All it takes is paying attention to detail during training, a good instructor, lots of practice, and willingness to learn.

Discipline

Anyone that has ever taken a martial arts class knows that it builds discipline. BJJ is no different. Any good instructor in BJJ will also be another mentor in your child’s life. Having more than one mentor is not a bad thing. That instructor will instill sportsmanship among peers and higher belts, ingrain a code of conduct while in the gym and out, and help motivate your child to succeed. BJJ instructors pass on what they have learned from their instructors. If your kid’s instructor is a decent person, chances are they will teach your child to be a better person in your absence.

Confidence

If your daughter lacks suitable self-confidence, then BJJ is the martial art for her. Due to BJJ being an art that drills a lot, it’s an art of repetition. Coincidently, she is not going to get a technique correct the first time she learns it, or she may get submitted a million times in a live sparring session. As a result of constant practice, it’s a solid guarantee that she will be proficient in the skills learned. Confidence is a necessity that BJJ can help build.  Most of all, once she sees that she will eventually start improving it will be the ultimate confidence boost. Imagine her getting submitted every day by a much bigger opponent and one day she turns the tide! What more does she need?

Camaraderie

With BJJ your daughter can build friendships that last a lifetime

The strange thing about BJJ that people never seem to understand is that it brings people together. In BJJ, black, white, brown, and yellow are colors we only recognize on belts. It becomes a brother/sisterhood. People from all walks of life come into the gym for the same common purpose; to improve and learn. Blood, sweat, and tears will form an incredible bond with the other students. They will form the most unlikely friendships and embrace the suck together. It is a beautiful thing to watch.

Health and Fitness

Finally, BJJ is great for cardio and strength building. It improves cardio because during a live roll it is constant movement due to her battling to better her position. Strength building occurs due to her using her arms, hips, and legs to push someone off, take someone down, or submitting her opponent. Which, can tire muscles very quickly. Child obesity is running rampant in our country, and BJJ is a perfect tool to combat that due to continuous muscle use and strenuous cardio.

Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu Is Worth It

Finally, most gyms are a bit pricey but after all, she is your daughter and her safety is worth the investment. I would scout around and use the interwebs to find the best gym for your little girl. Look for ones with an aftercare and a summer camp if she is looking for something to do in the summer.

Lastly, I am not singling out your sons. Parents are not hesitant to put their son in some martial arts, but most parents are little weary when it comes to their daughter. Obviously, BJJ and other Martial Arts can be rough at times, and injuries can occur; However, it’s not that often. Most parents want their girls to be cheerleaders and be girly-girls. Remember, if you are worried about your child being a victim then there is nothing wrong with teaching your daughter to avoid it. If you live in Maryland and need an MMA gym, come to Ivey League Mixed Martial Arts in Annapolis. Tell them Creel sent you. If you’re not convinced that your daughter needs to defend herself, you could benefit from reading my other article. Oss!!!

  Quote from the pound for pound GOAT

[rilenerocks]

One of the things I remember Michael saying to me on many occasions was that he thought I was the most singularly unchanged person that he ever knew. I was forever trying to decide if I should take that as a compliment or not. Since I was only 20 when we met, I figured that in the 46 years we knew each other he probably had a fair view of my behavior. In the end, I agreed with him and viewed “unchanged” not in a pejorative manner, but in a positive one. I’m consistent. My belief system has been in place for a very long time. Of course, I’ve grown, developed, evolved. But my core, my fundamental self is pretty much the same as it was when I was teenager. For people who know me well, that means I’m predictable. And complicated.

My brain speeds along at a rapid clip. I’m always processing. As yet, my motherboard hasn’t failed me. Which means nothing is ever just simple for me. I remember when I saw the movie, The Last Samurai. At a moment when the Tom Cruise character was getting his rear end kicked over and over during sparring practice, a friendly warrior came up to him, tapped him on the forehead and said, “too many mind.” I can relate. I’ve been working on slowing down and adopting practices that to help me

when my start spinning too fast.

I learned how to do revitalizing meditations to help me stay calm and cerebral when Michael was sick and needed my help. I have the Calm app on my phone and I use it regularly. I’m pretty zen when I swim. Still, a lot of my time is spent thinking, analyzing and considering, often about multiple topics simultaneously. It’s just how I roll. I think all this began when I was really young because I remember these same feelings and thoughts from my childhood.

And so it was on my long-desired trip to Glacier National Park, which in its essence was everything I dreamed of and more. I’ve been to a good number of national parks, Acadia just last month. Certain ones had more impact than others. I’ll never forget Bryce Canyon, Zion and Arches. I got to experience those with Michael which enhanced their majesty and spiritual power for me. Being on my own in Glacier, it was all about me, with my forever bond with Michael, tucked into my most interior self, like an extra vital organ. But I saw and felt Glacier through the lens I bring to everything, the one when I am simultaneously in my moment while my mind is zipping along, connecting that moment to how I perceive the world.

I went to Glacier by train which is a great way to travel and really see parts of the country that are off the main road and certainly hidden when flying. I spent almost all my waking hours staring out the window. I don’t want to miss anything. I’ve never tired of seeing cattle and horses, not since I was a little kid traveling up and back between Iowa and Chicago. On an overnight rail trip, there is so much more as you travel from state to state. I saw buffaloes and donkeys.

Numerous white tailed deer grazing and springing through the fields right next to the domestic animals. I saw a swift fox. I saw American white pelicans, great blue herons, American kestrels, a ring necked pheasant and lots of red winged blackbirds, mallard ducks and rabbits.

I saw fields planted with beans and wheat and other crops I can’t identify by sight.

The vistas are endless and impressive.

But I also saw small towns that looked economically ravished. Aging buildings and others that have already fallen. There’d be this gorgeous green landscape and suddenly piles of junked cars and garbage would appear.

The shabbiness was a stark contrast to the surrounding lush earth. And then came big sky. Endless miles of beautiful land, absolutely empty. In my mind I was envisioning herds of buffalo and tipis and the native people who made their lives here for countless years before being decimated by the relentless move west by settlers and power brokers. I’m sure that much of the land I saw was owned by big ranching concerns. But it felt so wrong. All the beauty tarnished for me. I can appreciate it but not without thinking of the cost to the people who lived here. Then the reservation appears.

The Blackfeet  reservation is actually a conglomeration of tribes whose general name is Niitsitapi which means “the real people.” I saw buildings with the words “no meth” painter boldly across the walls. The very idea of reservations appalls me. Would you like to live with your people in a designated area? Me neither.

The Blackfeet tribe has rights to parts of Glacier National Park which include their most spiritual locations such as Two Medicine. Ceremonies are still performed there such as sun dances, while sweat lodges are built for the transitions and rituals of native life. I took a boat ride on Two Medicine Lake and went through their valley. You can feel a powerful spiritual presence there. I opened myself up to let it blend in with me and Michael and my own belief system. Certainly not the same as theirs but nonetheless connected if by nothing other than the surrounding natural majesty. The natives call some of the mountains the backbone of the earth. It’s not hard to understand why.

I stayed in East Glacier Lodge which is a beautiful old building with no televisions and sketchy internet. It lends itself well to getting in touch with what this place is supposed to mean to human beings. Their staff all seem to share a common attitude of preserving the nature of the park and its mystical energy. There are tributes to the natives throughout the lodge and the park although for me, it wasn’t enough. Keeping a piece of your ancestral land rings hollow to me. I saw a tall Native American man tending flowers at another lodge. He resembled Will Sampson who played the chief in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. He seemed to enjoy what he was doing and had positive interactions with a few people working with him. Maybe his life is happy. Maybe I’m the one with the problem.

Let me stop and say that I felt everything I hoped to feel at Glacier. As I stood before mountains that are estimated to be between 1600 and 800 million years old, I felt my smallness and the tiny place that I know I occupy, even when things feel huge. I felt the fabric of connection that still binds me to Michael and my love for the earth and its marvels. But then the guide told us that the remaining 20-odd glaciers are expected to be gone by 2030. Unimaginable. Was this destined to happen over a long period of time or isn’t it part of the upheaval we’re seeing all over the world. Climate change. I’ve heard all the arguments from people who say it’s been hot before, we’ve had hurricanes before, we’ve had fires before. Blah-blah-blah. Our planet is threatened. I have no doubt. Blazing hot temperatures in Alaska. Water supplies in India drying up. Europe sweltering. The hottest June on record. Ever. I’m not capable of simply enjoying my good fortune without thinking about all these frightening things. I’ll be dead before the worst stuff happens. But what about all the children and grandchildren? I have hope that brilliant people will find ways to turn some of this around. That we’ll stop burning fossil fuels. That we’ll get rid of plastic in the oceans. That a place like Glacier will still have snowy peaks in the summer. But to ignore it for my own mental well-being? No can do. I had the privilege of seeing so much wildlife in the park. I saw a black bear, a moose, long horned sheep, elk and mountain goats. They’re just doing their thing. But a lot can threaten the ecosystem that supports them and I worry.

Through the train window I saw the amount of flooding that occurred when the Mississippi overflowed its banks, not to mention the smaller rivers nearby. The wooded area and retaining ponds along the tracks are filled with mile after mile of algae bloom. That can’t be a good thing. As I watched animals drinking from this green pea soup I wondered about the chemical runoff from farms into the water table. Not to mention what can happen to people’s drinking water. Still thinking of Flint over here.

So yes, I am thrilled that I got to see this incredible wonder for what is likely the only time in my life. I think that inner city kids from everywhere should be brought on field trips to experience this magnificent place or others like it so they can make an early commitment to trying to rescue the earth and each other. I can’t go back and undo the genocide that happened long before I arrived. But I think it should be remembered and never ignored. Another thing Michael said to me frequently was this: “ Great. So as long as you know that somewhere someone might be having a problem or that there are systemic issues, you’re going to be bummed out. Living with you will sure be fun.” Well, we did have fun. But there’s more to life than that.

Overdrive One of the things I remember Michael saying to me on many occasions was that he thought I was the most singularly unchanged person that he ever knew.