#Bone has had enough of this human celebration crap

[astaroth1357]

Locker Room Talk- A Beelzebub Fanfic (BeelxGN MC)

(I’m not much of a whole-ass fic writer, so I don’t think this will be a regular occurrence, but I just had a scenario play out too perfectly not to give it an upgrade. I would hope this goes without saying, but harassment is not okay, I do not condone it, and if you are experiencing it you should look into what legal options you have available to report it. Please don’t try the Beel method. You’ll go to jail.)

Warnings: Sexual harassment, unwanted innuendo, implied possibility of sexual assault, vulgarity

"Locker Room Talk” isn't really Beel's thing. In all honesty, he’s never understood the appeal since saying gross stuff where only your friends can hear doesn’t make what you’re saying any better. Because he’s been playing sports for nearly all the time he's been in the Devildom, he’s been around his fair share of these kinds of conversations. Most of the time he just keeps to himself and tries to tune out whatever the other guys have to say. It gives him a bit of a reputation as the “innocent” one sure, but he just prefers not to play along with their pervy antics. If they wanted that, they could talk to Asmo for all he cared.

That’s not to say he didn’t like his teammates or anything. Most of them were pretty good people on the court and got their acts together off of it. And Beel really loved playing sports. He needed the physical outlet as a distraction from his hunger… If he had to put up with a little vulgarity from time to time, it seemed like a fair enough trade… Or. At least it was at first.

When MC came to the Devildom, they turned his whole world upside-down. Things between his brother had always been tense before and even Belphie had grown more distant with him after what happened to Lilith, but it felt like in only a couple of short months they were able to soothe everything over. His family has never been happier and neither has he… Plus, it helped that they were a good, and eager, cook.

His teammates sniffed out his crush for the little human fairly quickly. To be fair, he wasn’t exactly hiding it very well. The first time they ever came by one of their practices, a pouch of homemade cookies in hand, he could have kissed them on the spot. No one, not even Belphie, makes the time to go check on him during practice like that... He must have made his happiness pretty obvious because the human started making it a regular habit. At least two, sometimes three, times a week they would drop in with some kind of food for him. Store-bought, homemade, a small snack, or packed meal, it honestly didn’t matter to him. Anything that came from their hands felt three times more filling than it should have. 

He’s a little embarrassed to admit that after a few weeks the anticipation would start to show in his performance… If they were on their way he could usually smell whatever they had packed heading his direction and he’d play extra aggressively just to get to a break faster. He'd mow everybody else over just to have an excuse to go meet them at the gate. He’s been more than a little reckless before and thinking back on it can make him wince, but he usually forgets all about those little mishaps as soon as he’s met by their smiling face. 

“Hey, Beel! How is practice going?” They’d ask him. And no matter how he answers, all he’d think would be, “Never as good as right now…”

It was around the time that his teammates put it together that the teasing started. It was innocent enough at first. They’d pick on him for having a little crush on the exchange student but it was always lighthearted. Nothing worse than maybe the occasional,

“Oi Beel? Did you get yourself a housewife/husband? Good for you.” or “They’ll cook for you?? What a steal!” Nothing that bad. At least, nowhere near as bad as it would get.

As the weeks passed it seemed like his teammates were expecting something out of him... Like, was he supposed to make a move on them? Though Beel really did want to be with the MC, there were a lot of complications… His brothers being a big one. Most have made no secret that they’re also pretty fond of them too, Mammon especially, and it felt wrong to make another rift in the family right after it took so long to patch the first one… Of course, his teammates didn’t know that. And they didn’t care. All they wanted to do was amp up the pressure…

“Hey, Beel, did you see what your honey was wearing today? I think they’re sending signals. You should probably jump on that, you know?” When it first started, he couldn’t actually believe what he was hearing. Sure, their little jokes sounded like innuendo but they kept things just veiled enough that he could have been reading into it. He’d get uncomfortable, but brush it off easy enough. However, it only ever got worse from there.

“Yo Beel, you boning that human yet? What? No?? What the hell are you waiting for? We see you like them so just do it!” It would grate on his nerves...

“Beel, how’s your sweetheart been doing? Still not fucking, right? Bet they’re getting lonely…” He’d tell them to stop. At first politely, then more forcefully.

“Look, man, if you don’t start taking charge then they’re going to get antsy. Plenty of other guys are here looking to get their dicks wet… Just look at your brothers, am I right?” After a while, he started shouting. But his aggravation only seemed to fuel the fire.

“I bet someone will have them bent over and forgetting all about you by the end of the week.” Eventually, he went to the coach but he didn’t care. “It’s just ‘Locker Room Talk.’ Grow up,” is all he got in response. It didn’t feel like it was just that anymore, but he started to doubt himself anyway... Was he overreacting? Every bone in his body wanted to go on a rampage whenever they started to pester him but wasn’t it all just words? He could endure words, couldn’t he? Besides, RAD has a strict no-violence on school grounds policy on its athletes. Even if he did get a good slug in, then he’d been thrown out of future games for the rest of the season.

Their words were just words. Gross, awful words, but words nonetheless. Sure. Whatever. He could endure that… but only that.

On the day he nearly lost it completely, it was right after their last practice before a big game the next night. The whole team was amped to go, but Beel was trying to keep to himself. Get in, get out, and go back to the House where MC was probably waiting. He’s long since stopped sticking around for socializing with the others. He had just finished changing when one of his teammates cornered him by his locker, the slimiest grin already plastered on his face.

“Look, Beel… We’re going to do you a favor, alright? Since you’re taking so long with this… The guys and I have decided to invite your little human to an “after-game party” tomorrow. To celebrate our victory and all that. Bet they’re dying for some action since you’re not giving any. You’re free to come if you want. Though… they might not be paying much attention to you.” Beel could feel his eye twitch as he watched the scumbag’s snickering face. That face. That fucking face. He'd never seen or heard anything so revolting in his life and-

For a few seconds, all he could see was red.

When he came back to his senses, he already had the sleazebag pinned against the lockers by the windpipe, fingers gripping his neck so tightly that his nails drew blood. At some point, he must have slipped into his demon form because the vibrations of his wings behind him made a sound not unlike a warning growl. His expression must have been ferocious because in the guy's eyes he saw nothing but pure terror. He’d never felt this much rage and hatred together before. Surely, at this moment, he ought to look more like Satan or Lucifer on a rampage than he does himself.

“If you say one more thing about that human, I will kill you. Touch them once and I will eat you. Are we clear?" His hand clenches further, making him receive a gargled cough in response. At this point, he could have probably flicked his wrist and snapped his neck in two. "Then pass it on." He tossed the man back into the metal lockers and watched him sink to the floor, clawing at his own throat and gasping for air. Oh yeah, his sporting days for this semester are over. But if it keeps him away from this trash? He’ll take it.

Of course, he made sure that he doesn’t stick around much longer. He left the scumbag to sort himself out, grabbing his gym bag quickly. He barely remembered to hide his demon form again before walking out of there, his nerves are practically shot already. Thankfully, though, he didn’t make it three steps out the door before a familiar face stopped him in his tracks. MC, who must have been waiting patiently for him this entire time, is leaned next to the bleachers with a backpack in one hand and a deli sandwich in the other. The perfect smile they got when they saw him signaling their blissful ignorance of all that just went down before.

“Hey Beel! How was pr-Oomf!” His body colliding with theirs cuts off their question. Beel’s gym bag lies already forgotten in the dirt, ditched so his arms could embrace them fully. It’s just a hug, a tight hug, but there’s a certain desperation to it. Though he knew it was ridiculous, a part of him was terrified that his teammates may just come up and try to snatch them if he let go…. After some time to process, he felt their head settle against his chest. He worried that they can hear his raging heartbeat... Would they pick up on how pissed he was just a moment ago?

“Ah… Not that great then, huh…?” His arms tense, pressing them closer against the fabric of his shirt. Should he tell them what he's been putting up with…? Does he even have the stomach for it? Letting out a sigh through his nose, he simply grunted out, “No…” 

“Well, what’s wrong then?” So many things… He just wanted to pick them up and fly them away from all this crap. He wanted to rip the tongues out from anyone who's said a bad word about them. He wanted to keep holding them in his arms, shielding them from anything and everything that could possibly take that perfect smile away… But they probably don’t know that, do they?

“Beel? Are you okay...?” He let a slow sigh draw out from his nose, resting his head atop theirs. All too soon, he'd have to let them go. But, for the moment, he could just hold them and wish this feeling would never end...

“Only if you are…”

[quietmyfearswith]

broken bones are mending {stephen strange x fem!reader}

status — oneshot

warnings — cursing, name calling (whore), attempt at angst, attempt at fluff

word count — 5,758

a/n — so this is for @nastybuckybarnes​‘s 7k follower celebration !! congratulations on this by the way, you deserve all the recognition for you really are a talented and skilled writer :) i know that stephen is a doctor but in this au he never became a master of the mystic arts, he’s just a doctor oki ,, as always, feedback is appreciated !! have a great day :>

masterlist

“Dr. Strange, you have a follow up check up with Mr. Roberts at 5:30 pm and after that you have a brief meeting with Dr. Palmer and Dr. West and you’re done for the rest of the day,” one of the nurses who assisted me in an earlier operation informed me about what the rest of my day will look like. I nodded my head as I paused in front of a hospital room wherein one of my orthopedic patients is currently confined in.

“Well, I’m just gonna check with Ms. Y/N and come collect me 15 minutes before my appointment with Roberts,” I informed him in and he looked at me weirdly, it was just 3:45 and he might have wondered why would I spend so long with one of our patients, but he did not have it in him enough to question my orders as he nodded and handed me the clipboard containing the progress report of the female patient inside the room.

As he walked away, I knocked on the door, “Come in,” I heard her voice shout out as she lowered the volume of the tiny television placed inside her room. “How you doing, Y/L/N?” I inquired as I went to her left side wherein she had injured her whole leg.

“Not too bad, considering how it’s nearing a month since I obtained this injury,” she joked as I playfully rolled my eyes and went to check her progress report. “Well, I’m just here to check your leg if that’s okay?” She nodded and paused the show she was previously watching, I then proceeded to remove her leg brace. I heard her let out small whimpers whenever I lightly grazed her leg, to which I quietly mumbled apologies.

“Does it hurt here,” I inquired while I pressed lightly on her fibia, “Or here?” and pressed on her fibula. “More on the first area. But only when you press it, not when I’m just laying down.” I nodded and quickly wrote down on the paper attached to the clipboard what I observed. As I looked up from the clipboard into her engrossed face, I lifted my eyebrows, and asked her, “What?”

Y/N shook her head and chuckled, which just made me become even more curious as to what was going on inside her head. After calming herself down with the chuckles, she sat up straight even more, “Are you tired?”

Her blunt question got me taken back, why the hell would she ask that? And seemingly out of nowhere as well. “Excuse me?” She smiled, though it did not fully reach her eyes and it looked as if she was genuinely concerned about my well-being, “You seem like you’re eternally tired. And it seems as if the life has been drained right out of you,” she snickered.

I shook my head, trying to shrug off her concern and not letting her see the appreciation of her attention. Instead, I directed my focus back to her leg and checked if there were anymore bruising and swelling. “You do know that I’m the doctor, right?” I asked as I began putting back the leg brace that helped her in her recovery, “I’m the one who’s supposed to be looking after you, not the other way around?” I asked after successfully assembling the brace and crossing my arms at her after doing so.

She shrugged her shoulders as she laid down again and casually replied, “Why can’t those two things happen?” I rolled my eyes as I collected the clipboard and headed for the door, not before reminding her, “Tomorrow we have therapy, so don’t go anywhere, okay?”

“Well, with this leg injury, don’t think I can go that far,” was the last witty comeback I heard from her before exiting her room and shutting the door. I paused briefly taking in our very quick encounter, she really is something huh, I thought to myself before walking towards my office — eager for this day to finally come to an end.

“Be honest, do you like hospital food? Or is it something you just learn to deal with?” I asked Dr. Strange as he was helping me stand up before guiding me into my first exercise. “Bold of you to assume that I eat that kind of crap,” Strange retorted as he slowly began to let me go. I worked on standing on both my feet, independently and despite a few initial wobbles, I was able to stand on my own after a few seconds of flailing my arms around in an attempt to gain balance and composure. I smiled widely and brightly at the doctor on my right, he looked as if he was fighting back a smile of his own before putting one hand under his chin and thought for a moment, “Try walking on your heels and toes across the room,” he ordered.

I began walking on my heels, away from him and towards the door, when I suddenly tried to converse, “Is it because you already taste like shit? Or you just got sick of what it tastes like?” As I returned from the walk and stood near him again he sighed, “If I answer, will it get you to cooperate and do what I asked you to do?” As I quickly nodded my head, he sighed once more before answering, “Well, if you’ve been working at a hospital for almost a decade, you get tired of their bland food. Besides, not all of their meals are that healthy, anyway,” he explained as he watched me walk on my toes.

“Try reaching for your toes without bending your knees,” he instructed and stood up — preparing for if ever I needed his help. I nodded and and bent down, I was able to do so, but not for a long time and slowly got back into standing straight. “Any pain in doing so?”

“Not much, just really not that flexible,” I stated and he nodded, “I reckon you should take more antioxidants, and not just rely on those protein bars,” I commented. “Why would you even bring that up?” he questioned, but before I could reply he immediately asked me, “Try bending your knees down with your legs together, then try to squat.”

As I was doing the exercises, I casually told him, “I chatted with one of the nurses the other day. He mentioned you’d pull double shifts and just snack on protein bars to help you get by,” I adjusted my stance, having my legs be shoulder-width apart, and moved to try for a squat, “Don’t think those will be enough to get you through two shifts. Plus, if I’m being honest, you need to drink some more water ‘cause you constantly look like you’d pass out from dehydration.”

He noticed I was having difficulty in squatting so asked if he could put one hand on my back and the other on my injured leg — to which I agreed. As he was aiding me on the exercise, he defended himself by saying, “Don’t see how my well-being is your concern. Plus, I’ll have you know that protein bars are delicious and substantial, thank you very much.”

After coming back up from a squat, I looked at him weirdly, “I’m not a nutritionist but I’m pretty sure that it isn’t a good substitute for an actual meal,” I commented before proceeding to go for another squat, “If I wasn’t confined, I’d cook you a homemade meal.”

“Alright that’s enough bending, did any of those exercises hurt when you were doing them?” I shook my head no and told him that it just ached a little when I was in that position for too long. “Now sit back down on the bed,” I followed his orders and let my legs touch the side of the bed with both my hands resting on my sides, “I’m gonna hold your leg and control it for a bit, that okay?”

I nodded my head and watched him lift my leg parallel to the floor and he asked if there was pain, even in the slightest, when he did so. This continued on for a few minutes, he'd move my leg a certain way, ask if there was any pain, and I’d always tell him if there were any pain or discomfort. “You know, if I’m being honest, I doubt if you can make a decent meal.”

Gasping loudly, I brought one of my hands in my chest, offended and hurt with his confession. He was kneeling on his left knee while both his hands were still holding on to my left leg and was moving it around to see if there were areas where I was experiencing aching — and even so he was performing a medical task, he had the nerve to smirk at what he said. As if he was teasing me even further.

“I’ll have you know, I can make one tasty and flavorful lasagna!” I argued, to which he just boisterously laughed at as he stood up and told me to lay back down so he can put back the leg brace. I let out a rather loud huff while doing what I was told, which amused him even more for he laughed once again, though it was softer and more quiet. “Perhaps that’s the only thing you can make tasty?”

I was about to retort him with a comeback when I found myself not doing it. This is the first I’ve seen him laugh out loud, genuinely and carefree, I thought to myself. “Laughing looks good on you, Dr. Strange.” This abrupt statement had him stop his reattachment of the brace halfway through, as he looked at me — puzzled and confused — and voiced out his statement of mentioned feelings, “What looks good on me, Ms. Y/LN? Is it the scrub suit?”

Even though I knew he was joking, I could not help but become a bit serious on the topic and told him, “Laughing — or joy, in general — looks good on you. It makes you seem relaxed and I dunno, more human, I guess?” I admitted to him nervously to which he just shrugged off and continued to hook up the brace. “Well, I’m glad that it was you who made me look not lifeless,” he said as he began writing down on the clipboard.

I draped the hospital blanket over me and reminded him, “Well they do say that laughter is the best medicine right, doc?” He chuckled as he finished writing down and looked at me and smiled, “Unless you’re laughing without a reason, then you probably need to be on medicine.”

I let out a few giggles while watching his form retreat and head for the door, “Will I see you tomorrow, Doctor?” He gave me one last look just before his whole body disappeared into the half-opened door, “As long as I’m still working at this hospital, you’ll surely see me, Ms. Y/N.”

“Thanks for providing your second opinion on my patient’s condition earlier, Stephen,” Christine praised me as we both walked out of one of the rooms wherein we’d meet with patients who came in for check ups or referrals. I patted her on the back, “Don’t mention it, Palmer, at least you came to me for help and not to Dr. West,” I remarked while quoting the word doctor.

She stopped in her tracks and looked at me seriously, “Can it, Strange. West is a good doctor, you just fail to see that.” Her defense had me rolling my eyes and crossing both my arms, “If he’s such a damn good doctor why don’t you always partner up with him and ask for his second opinion then?”

Before she could even prove her point even further, a nurse came to her and informed her about how her presence was required by one of the head doctors. “Honestly? I approached him first before you, so don’t get too cocky now, Strange.”

I stared at her with disbelief and disturbance with what she has just revealed to me. However, that state was cut short when the nurse who informed Christine had also reminded me, “Dr. Strange, you need to see patient Y/N one last time before she’s discharged and book an appointment in the following month for her follow up check up.”

Suddenly at the mention of the patient who continuously brightened up my day with her silly antics and attempts at conversing, I felt the slight annoyance within me disappear. I thanked the nurse and my feet took me to where my favorite patient had been staying for almost three months.  As I stood in front of her room, I contemplated for a while about how I wanted our last — for a while, at least, since their next interactions would probably be a few and far in between — encounter be.

With a deep breath, I knocked on the door, and heard her voice call out for me to come in. Upon seeing her wearing her civilian clothing and just sporting a smaller leg support and not a bulky leg brace, made me sport a soft and serene smile. Being the one in charge of her recovery has made me incredibly proud — when she was first brought in here, her left leg had a partial tear in her ligament, near her tibia, while there was swelling on her tibia which made it difficult for her to move around. In the short three months that we have collaborated in order to get Y/N back to how she was post-surgery, I have witnessed how her bravery and determination has got her through the tedious and lengthy therapy sessions that she had to go through, as well as the other medical procedures that she had gone through.

And now that she is being discharged from the hospital, I couldn’t help but feel pride for her progress. But there was also a part of me that feels somber. As much as I hate to admit it, our daily interactions — despite some being short while some lasted for over an hour — provided an illumination filled with hope and joy in my everyday life that was filled with exhaustion and monotonous repetition. “So Ms. Y/N, are you excited about being discharged?”

I watched her gleam at me, happiness and excitement being more than evident on her face, she stood up with a bounce and showed me how she was now able to conduct a different range of motions — most of them she was not able to execute in the past months. “More than ready, doc. All thanks to you I’m now not walking away with a broken leg,” she expressed her gratitude.

Her declaration warmed my heart, “You give me too much credit, you should also take into account the hard work and effort into getting yourself back into the way you were prior to your unfortunate accident,” I commended her as I sat down on the bench parallel to her bed. She sat back down on the bed, with her swinging her legs she replied casually, “Well that may be true; but don’t forget that you had to put up with my nosy and talkative ass, so yes, I think you deserve more credit,” she giggled.

I shook my head as I reached for the clipboard placed on the bedside table beside her bed, filling up the form which when completed would finalize her release from the hospital. As I was writing down on the paper — very slowly, hoping to cherish our last few moments together — we casually chatted up until she suddenly brought something up out of nowhere, “You gonna miss me when I leave, doctor?”

I paused from filling up the form and looked up at her with a raised brow, “What’s with the sudden confidence, Y/L/N?” I managed to deliver in a cool and composed manner, I wasn’t entirely sure that I wanted her to know how I looked forward to checking in on her everyday and that our conversations were something that made me happy for she was quick-witted and absolutely hilarious.

She shrugged her shoulders and fiddled with her fingers that rested on her lap, “Nothing really. It’s just,” she thought about what she wanted to say for a while, and set down the clipboard — containing the now completed release form; although I wasn’t telling her that yet — and looked at her curiously and eager to know what she had in mind, “Talking and spending time with you, made my time here somewhat tolerable and you know? It took my mind off from the pain and difficulty I had to endure from the procedures and therapy.”

I could not help but soften my look on here, at awe with how she viewed our interactions and how she also saw me as someone who brightened up the past few months — months that should have been somber and bleak given her situation. Before I could even respond she further explained, “It might sound silly, or immature, or even childish; but I really looked forward to seeing you everyday. And I’m thankful that you nursed me back to health but you also help me battle through the loneliness. So yeah, I’m very thankful to have met you.”

I gulped down and somehow decided that now was the best time to tell her that I reciprocated what she felt, “Well there's something I needed to tell you,” I began and I saw her eyes look at me eagerly and just as I was about to voice out what I felt, someone opened the door and entered the room, to which we both brought our gaze into.

“Kian! Hey you found your way up!” Y/N happily greeted as she waved to the guy. “Of course, I had to make sure you got home safely, where’s your bag by the way?” he inquired and she pointed to the bags that were placed at the front of the bed. He nodded and grabbed it, Y/N then looked at me and remembered, “What was it you were gonna say?”

I abruptly stood up and handed her the clipboard, “Oh it was nothing, just sign here and hand it over to the nurse at reception. She’ll shortly release you after that. And on the 15th next month is your follow up appointment, at 4:30 pm” my dismissal to her might have come across as rude, but I didn’t find the strength within me to tell her of how she was important to me seeing how she had a guy this good looking that was probably around her age and someone who cared for her enough to pick her up at the day she was being released from the hospital. Insecurity and doubt taking over my usual cocky and confident facade.

She seemed taken aback with what I said, eyebrows furrowed, she signed on the form and looked at my retreating form. “Okay thanks, Dr. Strange, see you on the 15th,” I nodded at her as I began making my way out of the room, in order for the two of them to have privacy and for me to conceal how the situation was now affecting me. I patted the guy, Kian, on his back, “Take care of her.” My legs walked briskly, knowing that if I probably stayed it would have just made me more sorrowful than how I already was.

Upon closing the door, I immediately made a beeline for my office. Grateful that my afternoon schedule did not include operations or checkups. Entering my office, I immediately plopped down on the sofa that was a few feet away from the door. I rubbed my face and groaned out loud, of course a woman who was extremely beautiful, funny, quick-witted, and determined was bound to be in a relationship with someone. Did I really hope that Y/N was single when she was that great? After a few moments, I told myself that I probably just infatuated with her because I saw her everyday for the past three months. I was just excited to meet someone who was completely different from the people I encounter on a regular basis. This is just a stupid crush that he would not want to think about and won’t have to think about once again.

With a sigh, I stood up and headed for my office desk and tried to distract myself from the memories of Y/N brightening up his day and instead buried myself with medical work.  

To say that my last encounter with Dr. Strange was a disappointment was an understatement. I told him about how much he has helped me get through this injury — and not just on the physical and medical aspect of it — and for him to quickly dismiss it. Perhaps he was just not comfortable talking about it with his patients? Maybe he was surprised to see your cousin, Kian, and did not want to keep you any longer?

With today being the 15th, half of me was excited to see him once again. While the other part of me was cautious about how he would react to seeing me once again — would he be as cold or as dismissive as he was from our last conversation?

With a huff, I pressed on the elevator floor where I knew his office would be. Upon reaching the floor, I immediately took in the surroundings, it’s been a month and it felt like not too long ago this had become my temporary home. Smiling to some of the nurses and other staff whom I recognized, I was making my way through the busy halls and found myself on the side of the building where Dr. Strange’s office would be.

“You’re the best, Stephen,” I heard a girl praise him as she untangled herself from her embrace with the doctor whom I’ve been spending too much time thinking about. I looked the other way, feeling as if I was somewhat violating their privacy by witnessing their intimate exchange. The girl was then called by a nurse leaving Dr. Strange to acknowledge my presence by saying, “Oh Y/N,  you’ve finally arrived.”

I sheepishly nodded, “Is it a bad time?” He quickly shook his head and led me into his office, “No, no it’s not. Come on in and let’s start the checkup.” I nodded and went in first and he followed, directing me to sit on the examination table. “So, how have you been feeling? Any pain when performing tasks?” he inquired as he grabbed a notepad that was by his office desk.

I shook my head no, “Not really. Although I’ve noticed that I don’t really have the same endurance as I used to prior to the accident.” He nodded and took note of what I had said, putting down the notepad he made his way towards me and asked if it was alright if he touched my leg to inspect it. I agreed and let him move around my leg.

“If I had known you were busy, I would have insisted on a different date,” I meekly told him as he checked my leg. He looked up at me with an eyebrow raised and stopped his inspection, “What? I wasn’t doing anything before you came in, just a quick snack with the other doctor,” he explained.

Raising my hands up I chuckled, “Don’t have to explain to me your personal business, doc.” He shook his head and resumed his inspection. While doing so, there was an awkward and uncomfortable silence that enveloped his office. I would usually try to come up with  a way of sparking up a conversion with him. But given how he was not the most approachable last time and now seeing him cozy with another person, made me hesitant to let him know about how he made me feel and how he was important in my recovery period.

“Everything seems to be good,” he concluded after observing my partially-recovered leg, “anything else you want to add or ask?” I bit my lip as I debated about whether or not I should confront him about his previous behavior. “Not much really, but there is something I wanted to talk to you about,” I trailed off as I was unsure on how to approach the subject without coming off as immature or making it look like I was interfering with his life — even though I had no right to do so.

“What is it about, Ms. Y/N?” He inquired, and I took a deep breath while I closed my eyes, as I opened them and looked into his eyes deeply, “The last time we spoke, when I told you how you were such an important and pivotal figure on my road to recovery. Not just on the medical and physical aspect of it, but also with you know?” I cast my gaze on my fingers for a little while, struggling to correctly put into words my appreciation for what he’s done, “It’s well, for a while it was lonely for me to be in the hospital for what? Three months? So I began chatting up with the nurses and other hospital staff whom I’ve always seen or encountered during my recovery.”

I paused, diverting my gaze from my fingers and into Dr. Strange’s face. From what I could make out, he was contemplating on the information I was telling him. I felt that he had his own question or comment on what I had to say, but he waited instead for me to finish whatever it was I had to say — and for that I appreciated his patients. “Despite chatting with the different hospital staff, it was my everyday exchange with you that I truly enjoyed the most. You talking about how 70’s and 80’s music is way better than the music today. Or when you’re just simply telling me how at some point you got sick of hospital food, hence why you don’t eat as much anymore. Talking with you has been really, um, therapeutic, I guess is the right word for it?”

I stared for a little bit at his face, and since he wore the same expression and did not open his mouth for any reply I went on, “Like, it may sound silly or what, but you’ve really helped me get through this dark period of my life. And no, it’s not just because you’re the doctor who helped me or something like that. But I don’t know? You’re one of the most intelligent — and not just on the medical field, honestly — and witty, and humorous person. While I could also see that you’re extremely kind and caring — which I suppose is the reason you take double shifts even if your body is begging for a break,” I chuckled lightly at the memory and shortly after I took in a deep breath before risking it all, “So what I’m really trying to say is that, I like you. And if this is weird for you, I can ask to switch doctors since you know, it might be awk-”

I was cut off when he spoke back in what seemed like forever by saying, “You like me?” he wondered out loud, to which I nodded to reaffirm that what I had stated earlier was true. His eyebrows furrowed and there were visible lines above his forehead, confusion now taking over his features. “That’s evil, alright? You don’t like me, you’re just playing with me!” he accused, slightly raising his voice at me.

I bit my lip and felt that my eyes were starting to water — though I had no intention of letting him know how what he’s doing is affecting me — and my voice cracked as I argued back, albeit weakly, “What? How could you question what I feel and accuse of something cruel?”

He crossed his arms and raised his brows, but not in confusion; for it seemed like he was challenging my declaration, “Really? You have your boyfriend pick you up when you were discharged and a month later you tell me that you like me? I didn’t know that you were such a -”

“He’s not my fucking boyfriend! He’s my cousin, you idiot!” I interrupted him as I raised my hands up in frustration. His mouth hung agape in shock, processing what I had just revealed. It was also then I processed why his demeanor had suddenly changed last month. Did he actually think that Kian was my boyfriend? “So you’re telling me, the reason why you suddenly became dismissive the time I was discharged was you thought that I was someone else’s whore?” I coldly asked him.

He gulped before moving from where he was seated and made a move to sit beside me. I turned away from him, trying to hide the few sniffles and tears I had let out. “I’m sorry,” he started, and he made a move to bring one of his hands into my back and soothe it — not prohibiting me from letting out the tears — “I should not have jumped into that conclusion. It wasn’t fair to you or to that guy. It’s just, I didn’t want to come off as nosy by asking you about your relationship with him.”

I scoffed, “Well I think I would have mentioned a boyfriend to you at some point during our conversations during those three months, don’t you think?” He too, laughed quietly at what I had said and agreed. “But it wasn’t only that. I thought to myself that you’re you. You’re this ray of sunshine who happens to be a lovely, beautiful, funny, quick-witted, and determined woman. And if you managed to make my days better and bright, then I was sure as hell that you brought that same effect to others — which led me to believe that there was already a lucky lad who got to call you theirs.”

His confession led me to face him, and his features softened and relaxed upon seeing how a few tears have stained my face. Both his hands were quickly wiping off the tears after doing so, his hands were planted on both sides of my jaw, he was caressing my cheeks and what he was doing resulted in a faint red blush appearing on my cheeks. “I guess this just both means that we’re both dumb and that we should both be more open in voicing out what we feel, huh?”

A hearty laugh escaped his lips and I couldn’t help but smile at this, “It’s nice seeing you like this, happy and carefree.” I said to which he sheepishly smiled as well, “Well, I’m only like this when I’m with you. So the past month I’ve been a pretty dull person,” he informed me as he scooted closer to me and his right hand was wrapped around my shoulder, leaving me to lean on his shoulder. Grabbing his left hand, I played with his calloused hand, enjoying our closeness and that fact that we had now voiced out what we both truly felt.

“Since we both like each other, why don't we both go out some time?” he cheekily said, causing me to look up at him pointedly, “Will you let me make my delicious lasagna for you?” I asked back to which he laughed once again. After throwing his head back in laughter, he looked at me, happiness and contentment evident in his whole face, “Of course, sweetheart. And don't you worry, I’m not pulling a double shift tonight and it’s my day off tomorrow — so I have all the time in the world to get to know you better.”

As he was speaking out those words, I found my gaze landing on his lips. He noticed this and smirked, “You want a kiss, Ms. Y/N?” he teased. I looked at his eyes — doing my best to pull off an adorable puppy dog look — as I told him, “Yes please, Doctor Strange, I heard that it would help me mend and heal my leg.”

We both laughed at our silly exchange both after the laughter died down, both his hands were once again caressing my cheeks and pulling me closer. As our lips touched, one of my hands touched his cheek, deepening the kiss even more. While the other settled on his lower back, wanting to feel his warmth even more and wanting him closer.

As he opened his mouth, it prompted me to do the same. Feeling his tongue wrestle with mine, made me shudder at how good it felt. After what felt like hours of kissing, he pulled away, in a daze I looked up at him and he muttered, “God, I like you so much, baby” before pecking my lips multiple times — which led me into a fit of giggles. We stared at each other for a while, dazed and on cloud nine. Just smiling, giggling, and pressing kisses to each other.

“Dr. Strange, Mrs. Fleming will be here with her toddler in a few minutes to have their checkup,” a nurse knocked on the door. This snapped both of us out of our bubble, Dr. Strange thanked the nurse and informed the nurse that he will be ready in a few minutes.

He then helped me stand up and put my jacket back on. As I was putting back my shoes, we both shared a few words, “Stephen,” I looked at him and wondered what he meant with what he had just said, “I mean, my name is Stephen. Stephen Strange.” I nodded and smiled, moving to him pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Well Stephen, since you have my file you know my number and address. See you later, thank you for that check up.”

Stephen watched as I made my way to the door and he was laughing as I waved at him goodbye and shut the door behind me. As I entered the elevator and headed for my car, I could not help but smile at what had just happened. Who would have  thought that the person in charge of my recovery would also be the one to mend the loneliness that I felt, and that I do the same for him as well? Now, to prepare a meal for that person.

[specialmindz]

“PAPYRUS! PAPYRUS WHERE ARE YOU?”

BUBBH!           

“PAPYRUS!”

Sans poked the baby bones currently playing the bathtub. “hey uh, bro? i think dad wants you…”

“PAH-PYRUS!”

SPLASH SPLASH!

“WHAT YOU WANT STINK DADDY? I’S MAKING MOOSIC OVER HERE!”

The infant continued splashing in the tub, the bubbles floating gently through the air with each slap the water received. “UNDER DA’ SEA! UNDER DA’ SEEEA! DOWN HERE IT WETTER, DOWN HERE IT BETTER, TAKE IT FROM BAY-A-BEEEEE!”

CAP CAP CAP!

CA-THINK, WHAM!

“ugh! dad, you don’t have to slam open the door like that-”

“WHERE’S MY KEYBOARD, YOU LITTLE SHIT?”

SPLASH SPLASH!

“I don’t know what you’s talkin’ bout’. What is dis ‘key-board’ you speak of? Is a board game?”

“YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS! YOU USE IT WHEN YOU’RE USING MY COMPUTER! TELL ME WHERE IT IS THIS INSTANT!”

SPLASH!

Papyrus stopped. “Why you need it so bad? You’s a scientist, not a moosician! I’S the only one with musical talent round’ here! Listen to mah jams!”

SPLASH SPLASH!

“UNDER DA’ SEA-”

“THAT’S THE WRONG KIND OF KEYBOARD!”

“uh oh,” said Sans, studying the water. The surface of it was almost completely obscured by bubbles, but he had a good idea of what lay beneath. Papyrus normally didn’t even like bubbles, as they got in his eye sockets and made it hard to see where he was swimming, but today he actually asked for extra suds in order to create “special effects” for a “concert” he was performing.

It looked like Gaster had the same idea too, as a trademarked sigh of unmistakable misery escaped him.

Heh heh, it’s like watching a balloon slowly lose its will to live…

SPLASH SPLASH, SPLASH SPLASH!

“It’s under the water isn’t it?”

“Nyeh?”

“My keyboard. It’s underwater.”

Papyrus looked down at the water and then back up at his father. “I do bad Daddy?”

“Yes Papyrus, you’ve made a mistake...”

“I fuk up yo’ life?”

“Yes Papyrus, you’ve ‘fucked up my life,’ now give me my keyboard so I can repair it.”

“Mmm…no. No, I’s gonna fix it. I already has an idea, in fact! I can still make dis work.” Papyrus licked the water. “Yep. Daz the problem. That’s the problem right there. I got the suds, but the water not be salty enough. SNAS!”

“AHH! wh-what? what do ya’ want pap?” asked Sans, putting a hand against his skull.

“Well FIRST, I’d like you to pay attention,” said the baby. “We gots a situation over here and you’s dreaming bout’ eating Sabastian!” The infant pointed to a dead crab floating in the bath near his feet. It had CLEARLY been eaten a long time ago by someone else, probably a human seeing as Papyrus got all his stuff from the Dump, but apparently the shell was all he needed to play pretend.

“I needs you to search the Powder Place and finds the salt,” said Papyrus, now pointing at the bathroom cabinet.

The bathroom cabinet was where the family keep their cleaning supplies. Heavy-duty powder that was used to clean up serious messes regular soap couldn’t handle, pest control bottles that sprayed foul-smelling chemicals, and copious amounts of baby powder lined the floor of the cabinet. Some of the bottles and boxes were neatly arranged, but most of the supplies had been knocked over, their contents scattered everywhere due to a combination of missing lids and an unsupervised baby…at least that’s what Papyrus said.

His little brother didn’t like the Powder Place very much, and at one point he even tried to do something about it, admitting fully that he had once purposely spilled the contents of the baby powder in order to make the area smell like an infant rather than Catty’s litterbox room. It was Papyrus’s argument that cleaning supplies should never smell like fresh fruit.

“Be careful Snas, it may smell delicious in there, but erything be poison. Big people’s use it as a trick to kill off fat babies.”

“Don’t be absurd! That’s not even close to being correct.”

“Yes it is. Big people’s like their monies and a fat baby is a baby that eats alllll the time. Food costs money, so they buy poison that smell like food to get rid of the baby without legal con-see-quences.”

“That’s not true, who TOLD you that?”

“Dirt-Butt.”

“*Sigh*”

Of COURSE it was Dirt-Butt.

“Dirt-Butt” was ALWAYS saying nonsense, though it really didn’t bother Gaster as much as every other source of knowledge the infant found. He was usually relieved in fact. Papyrus was used to getting stereotypical info from the media, but the things Dirt-Butt told him more often than not, actually kept him out of trouble.

If only headaches weren’t still the norm…

 “NO DADDY, DON’T USE DA’ LECTRICAL HOLE! DIRT-BUTT SAY PICHU LIVE IN THERE!”

“…What?”

“dirt-butt told pappy that pikachus were electric mice who made their homes in electrical outlets,” explained Sans, playing a game on his phone.

“IS TOO! PIKACHU’S BABIES LIVE IN THERE! YOU’S GONNA POKE EM’ IN THE BUTT!” Papyrus covered the holes of the outlet with his hands, Determined to save his fellow infants. “Dirt-Butt says only big people can get poked in the butt, he also say-”

“Pikachus do NOT live or make their nests in electrical outlets.” Interrupted the scientist. “No one does.”

“Yes they do! Dat’s why the tricity gets used up. Pichu eat da’ power so they can gets big, is their nutrients!”  

Gaster shook his head. “No. The reason you don’t want to stick things in here is because you’ll be electrocuted. Dirt-Butt lied. You need to pay more attention to people when they’re talking Papyru-”

“You gets elly-cuted cause’ you piss off Pikachu.”

“Did you not hear me?”

“If you poke the babies, you gets zapped.”

“Papyrus.”

“I KNOWS MAH ANIMALS DADDY!”  

“SNAS, MORE SALT!”

“NO, do NOT put salt in your brother’s bathwater, it’s terrible for bones,” said Gaster reaching into the cabinet. He pulled out the salt, but was immediately met with a wet keyboard to the face.

CACK!

“PAPYRUS!”

“GIMME MAH SALT STINK DADDY! IS MINE!”

“No, it is NOT yours-”

“GIMME MY SALT OR I’S GONNA TELL UPON YOUUU!”

“You do that.”

“I WILL! I’ll tell upon you and you’s gonna get in trouble! I tells em’ you taked the salt and tried to make a baby stew…” said Papyrus smiling.

“Wh-”

“I’ll tell eryone you putted salt and carrots in mah bath and eryone will hate you. They’ll go ‘poor baby Pappy, he has such a bad wife, his daddy try to cook him for supper! We should ah-rest that bad guy and donate lossa monies to that baby’s fundraiser so their family can eats!”

“…What fundraiser?” asked the father, sensing trouble. He immediately regretted saying anything. In fact, he regretted it before the second word even came out of his mouth, but by then it was already too late.

“MY fundraiser. Baby Pappy’s Happy Nappies for Crap Bs!” Papyrus grinned and spread his arms out wide as if in celebration.

“’Crap B’s…?”

“Crap babies. Babies who not geniuses like me. Snas say, other baes not as fortunate as us, so I should be nice and share mah toys.”

“…”

“I don’t wanna do that, so instead I makes a fundraiser to get the inferior infants nappies!”

“Papyrus-”

“Nappies is diapers.”

“I know what nappies are,” said Gaster, already annoyed. Though the fundraiser’s name was enough to prove to Asgore that he wasn’t responsible for whatever came from his youngest’s latest money-making scheme, he still had to put an end to it. If he didn’t, he’d have the king’s citizens knocking at his door, and things were already getting bad in that regard.

More and more monsters had fallen ill from Hotland’s toxic fumes due to the fact that the Underground’s air filter lacked the power to operate and the more…unreasonable, individuals were getting upset. With the Lab being the closest medical building, the sick were often brought in and placed into the renovated Medical Ward. What was once mostly a living room was now a warehouse of beds, stretching almost from one end of the room to the other and lined with monsters of every variety.

Not that he was running out of room or anything.

The monsters there weren’t being cured, but rather drained of their magic to create magic crystals, a brilliant, if cold-hearted idea to be sure. This however, was necessary, though it had a severe consequence as it resulted in an increase of the Fallen; monsters who had lost too much magic and so had fallen into a comatose state. If the comatose had a chance of waking, he wouldn’t have dozens of family members banging on his door and flooding his email with questions, but sadly that wasn’t the case. Those that fell, fell to dust. There was no waking them…at least he didn’t THINK so…Gaster admittedly hadn’t bothered to experiment with that kind of thing yet.

I’m raising two children, keeping the oil reservoir under control AND a secret, trying to come up with a permanent solution to our power problem, logging the names and the number of incoming patients, making magic crystals, recording Papyrus’s progress, AND fixing HIS messes; I don’t have the TIME to meddle in monster mortality.

“uh, dad? papyrus just ran out the door giggling.”

“Wh-what?” Gaster looked about the bathroom to find that it was, indeed, missing a baby. “Why didn’t you stop him?!”

“he ran right past you, so i figured it was okay.”

“Papyrus by himself is NEVER okay, you should know that! Where did he go?” He poked his head out of the doorway and looked down the hall. A wet trail of baby tracks led into the darkness and he could just faintly hear the clacking sound of tiny bone feet getting farther and farther away.

“he said something about ‘customer satisfaction’ or…whatever. i wasn’t really paying attention-”

“GET OFF YOUR PHONE AND GO GET YOUR BROTHER!”

“*siiiiigh* FINE. PAPPY? WHERE YOU AT BABY BRO?”

“I SAID ‘GET’ NOT ‘YELL’ SANS!”

Lazy little…

“uuuughh!” Rolling his eyes, Sans shoved his phone back into the pocket of his hoodie and walked out the door. “PAPPYYYY! HEEERE PAPPY!”

“NYEH HEE HEE HEE!”

Wiping off his ruined keyboard, Gaster tucked it under his arm and followed his oldest.

He already knew where the little bastard was headed.

Earlier in the week, while he was sweeping dust off the beds, he had found a little white diaper under the covers. ALL of the beds that once held the Fallen, had them in fact. It was obvious that Papyrus was putting diapers on the comatose patients, but until today, he never knew why.

“…those aren’t babies pappy,” said Sans from far off.

“Course they are! Daz why they sweep so much. Cwap babies don’t do much Snas, they just eat, sweep, and doody in their diapies. Some of them pay wit toys, but-”

“PAPYRUS GET OUT OF THE MEDICAL WARD!”

Papyrus turned his head to look down the hall, then, waving at his daddy, he turned back around.

“PAPYRUS!”

“Shoosh, stink Daddy! You wake da’ babies!” The tiny skeleton looked at the fluffy, unconscious dog-monster. “So tell us, doody-dog…how satisfied are you wit mah pro-duct? From one to a hundred?”

“…”

Papyrus lifted the dog’s head, “Eleventy-six!” exclaimed the baby bones, “I’d definitely wear another! Mah only complaint is the lack of hole for my stupid dog tail-”

“*pfft!* pap-”

“THERE SHOULDN’T BE ANY COM-PAINTS!” yelled Papyrus into the dog’s face. “DIS A FUNDRAISER, YOU BE GATEFUL FOR WHAT YOU GET, SUCK-BABY!”      

“…”

“he’s not answering you bro.”

“Cwap babies not talk much Snas, but the result be clear. They satisfied…and now I must expand mah business!” cried Papyrus, raising a finger in the air. “TO WATERFALL!”

“huh?”

Using his wingdings, Papyrus picked himself up and placed his little body atop his brother’s skull, apparently expecting Sans to take him to his destination with haste.

He didn’t.

“pap, i don’t know what EXACTLY you’re trying to do, but it’s probably not a good idea; you’re naked and dad was-”

“TO WATERFALL SNAS!!” repeated the baby, louder this time. “TIME BE MONEY, HONEY!”

“don’t call me that.”

SPL-SPLASH!

Teleporting to Waterfall, the two brothers fell into the water near the docks, Papyrus slipping from his sibling’s head almost at once.  

“NYEHHHHAAH! WHY YOU PUT US IN DA’ WATER SNAS? THE FISHIES SEE MAH BUTT!” The infant covered his rear end with a tiny hand, using the other to grab hold of Sans’ hoodie.

“then you shoulda listened to me huh?” replied Sans, CLEARLY not sorry at all. “besides, you know i can’t control exactly where i show up!”

Just the area in general…

“DON’T LOOK AT MAH BUTT CWEEP FISH!”

TAP!

A strange tapping sound drew the older boy’s attention, and Sans turned his head to see old man Gerson walking along the docks, cane in hand, while the baby batted at the curious fish.

“What’s all the commotion over here?” asked the turtle, scratching under his chin. He looked a lot more ancient when he was in full view. Sans usually only saw him in his shop, as did everyone else. It was rare to find him wandering around, as Undyne had a habit of taking it upon herself to scavenge for supplies at the Dump and present it to him to selling. Because of her, he never really HAD to leave anymore.  

TAP, SHIFF!

The old man got closer and peered down at the two in the water, holding a magnifying glass to his eye. “Wahhaha, of course, of course it’s you, Papyrus. Giving your brother trouble I see!”

Does he bring that everywhere with him?

“it-it wasn’t pappy’s fault, i made a mistake,” said Sans quietly.

“Is that so? Well you two shouldn’t be bathing in the same place we water folk get our food, might get a taste for skeletons! Wahhahaha!” He laughed again, but the little Horror wasn’t as amused.

“DON’T EAT DA’ BABY!”

“we weren’t bathing…i just…took a wrong turn or something…”

“You weren’t? Then where are your brother’s clothes?”

“CTHULHU TOOK EM’! I seens it, wit my own widdle eyes, Wrinkle-Man!” said Papyrus, splashing in the water.

“Really? Well that’s just awful! Isn’t that awful Sans?”

“please don’t encourage him.”

“They must be pretty mean to do something like that; picking on a poor little cherub like you.”

“Yep, I’s a sad cher-chero-cherrio. A very sad cheerio Wrinkle-Man, baby’s don’t gots lots of monies ya’ know? How I supposed to buy new jammies wit no monies?”

“That IS an issue,” said Gerson warily, sensing an approaching problem. He turned to Sans, but the child only glared at him, his expression giving the answer to the old man’s unsaid plea.

You started this, now YOU can deal with it.

I’m not helping you.

“Ya’ know what would make this little cheerio happy again Wrinkle-Man?”

“cherub, pappy.”

“*Sigh*…What’s that?”

“If you would accept dis diapie.” The baby bones held up a soaked diaper, possibly getting it from out of Sans’ pocket.

“oh, that’s right, i didn’t check my pockets today.” He looked down at his clothes sadly. Whatever was in there today was probably ruined now by the water.

Papyrus tended to hide things in his brother’s hoodie.

Every once in a while, the kid comedian would reach into his pocket to find crayons, candy, a kaleidoscope, bouncy balls, a yo-yo, and sometimes even makeup in his pocket. They were fun little surprises that he enjoyed, like tiny gifts. They obviously belonged to his sibling, but liked Papyrus liked to say “what’s mine is yours,” so he considered them gifts.

The big treasures were his favorite, as they were rare and akin to getting surprise packages in the mail. He’d wake up in the morning and go to the place on the floor near the dresser where he always threw his hoodie and be excited to find a big lump covered by his clothing. A sign that his brother had hidden something neat.

You’d think he’d quit hiding things with it by now. He’s gotta know I’m stealing em’…

One time, Sans even found a skateboard hidden under it. He played with it a lot, and got pretty good, but when he started doing tricks, Papyrus became…unhappy. He remembered his baby brother screaming in terror and crying when he showed him a kickflip for the first and last time. He remembered feeling super guilty about it too. He only had 1 HP after all; if he fell, it was bye-bye big bro.

The skateboard now sat in a corner collecting dust, a sad reminder of what could have been.

“I don’t need a diaper yet kiddo!” said Gerson, slightly insulted.

“Sure, you do! All old peoples need diapies and all we asks in ass-change is dat you gives us a small donation.”  

“A small donation’ hm?”

“Yep, for just thirty-twelve G, you could have this super absorbent, long-lasting diaper. Yo’ donations go to the Happy Nappies Fundraiser where we will buy MORE diapies and gives them to the less fortunate.”

“…It sounds like you’re selling diapers for 3,012g, FAR more than they’re worth. That’s thirty-twelve right? 3,012g?”

“Correct. We uses the extra monies to buy more nappies.”

“That’s not a fundraiser young’un’, you’re supposed to be raising money for charity. If you’re selling these to the babies here in the Underground-”

“I not sell to babies, I GIVE to da’ baes!”

“…But their parents pay for them.”

“Yes.”

“That’s not a fundraiser, you’re ‘hustling’ as the kids say.”

“No! I not hustle, I BUSTLE! The fundraiser be for babies, THEY gets the diapies for free, not the big peoples.”

“you’re either not understanding bro, or you’re trying to cheat people.”

Probably the latter.  

“Daz not too. I buys diapies for the peoples who needs em’ and I use the rest to buy stuffs dat I need...like my jammies. Erybody wins.”

Papyrus attempted to climb out of the water and then, realizing his arms weren’t strong enough to pull him up onto the dock, he summoned his wingdings and placed himself onto the planks.

RATTLE RATTLE RATTLE!

“ugh, pap!” Sans covered his face as his tiny and inconsiderate sibling shook his body back and forth like the dogs in Snowdin, attempting to rid himself of the water.

“Wahahaha!”

SQISH!

THAP THAP THAP!

The infant squeezed the diaper in his hands and whipped it in the air, sending beads of water every which way. He knew it would probably not be the most absorbent product he ever sold, but perhaps the old monster would still want it for catching doodies…?

“bro, that diaper’s ruined, you’re not going to be able to sell it. look, it’s torn…”

“Nyeh?” Papyrus looked at the nappy in his hand. It seemed fine just a minute ago, but now it was all stretched out and worse yet, the sticky parts that were meant to hold the diaper in place wouldn’t stick anymore. He tried several times to get them to, but the front kept falling open.

Sans was right.

His product was ruined.

“NYEHHHHHAAHHHH! SNAAAAAAAS!”

“*sigh*”

“MY DIAPIE BE BOKEN SNAS! NYEH-HAAAHHHH!!!”

Sans got out of the water and picked up his baby brother. “don’t cry pappy,” he said, bouncing him up and down in his arms. “it’ll be okay.” He patted him on the back, but the baby bones refused to stop crying, still clutching the diaper in his little hand.

“Oh dear…hmm…tell you what,” said Gerson, pulling a wallet out of his shirt pocket. “I’ll buy your nappy at 2,000g, since it’s damaged. A young’un’ needs a pair of clothes, right?”

“our dad didn’t sell his clothes if that’s what you’re-”

“Shu up Snas, YES PWEASE MR. WRINKLE-GUY!” yelled Papyrus, suddenly all smiles. “I WOULD VERY MUCH AH-PEA-CIATE THAT!”

“PAPYRUS!”

“WAHHAHAHAHA!” laughing loudly, the tortoise-monster gave him the money. “Looks like this old man’s been outmaneuvered in marketing! I better watch out!”

“Nyeh hee hee hee!”

“…”

“Oh, don’t look so glum, my boy. Your brother needs this practice in order to protect you in the future! He’s gonna be quite the young warrior, isn’t that right Papyrus?”

“…There will be war.”

“WAHHAHAHAHA!” Mr. Gerson laughed again and walked back towards his shop. He tended to laugh a lot when Papyrus was present, though seeing him also made the elderly monster a bit sad too.  

Sometimes I miss the old days when a lot of these little guys were around…

Maybe one day, nature will fix our past mistakes. I just hope it doesn’t need help…or that it’s not too late.

TAP, SHIFF!

TAP, SHIFF!

“…that wasn’t very nice bro.”

“The business world is a harsh one, Snas,” said Papyrus, counting his G. “You needs to pactice too big Buther. One day, you’s gonna need to help da’ baby, ya’ know? Is sad dat you has no monies of your own. Just cause’ you gots 1 hp, don’t mean you’s useless. You gots a brilliant mind, put it to good use.”

“i don’t need life advice from a crook.”

“Kay’ when you gets a life, come see da’ baby.”

“i HAVE a life, you little asshole! it’s just isn’t a life of crime.”

“No crime no dime, big Buther. Sometimes you gots to break the rules to get da’ jewels! Tell Daddy he either pay you for help, or he pay fines for child labor.”

“that’s blackmail.”

“Is genius is what it is.”

Sans chuckled and put the money in his hoodie. “why would you need my help bro? unemployed monsters down here are a dime-a-dozen!”

“…”

“all jewel need to do is lie and they’ll help you out. i don’t need to do anything, heh heh…”    

“…You needs to pactice yo’ font too.”

“fine-”

“SOMEWHERE AWAY FROM DA’ BABY!” yelled Papyrus, kicking his legs.

“i can’t leave you here, child abandonment is a crime-���

“DAZ NOT EVEN A PUN!”

“besides, crawling all the way home would be a bit labor-ious, wouldn’t it?”

“IIIII HATE CHUUUUUU!!”

CAP, CAP!

CAP, CAP!

Oh crap, someone else is coming. I need to get Pappy back in some clothes or-

“HEY! NO BATHING IN THE FOOD SUPPLY, IT’S ILLEGAL!” cried a shrill voice Sans knew all too well. Startled, he dropped his brother in surprise, but luckily the infant didn’t seem to care.

“HELLWOE FISH-LADY!” Papyrus threw up his arm in greeting. “DA’ WRINKLE-MAN JUST LEFT!” The baby pointed towards Snowdin.

“He was just here?”

“yeah, he headed back to his stall a few seconds ago,” replied Sans, glaring at his brother. “while you were…underwater. why were you underwater? this is the breeding area…”

“Right, I was talking to the fish. Gotta make sure no one’s stealing them, so everyone can keep eating-”

“Fish Lady’s growing an army to fight the homos!” said Papyrus excitedly.

“SSHH!! Shut the fuck up Papyrus!” whispered Undyne harshly.

“homosapiens baby bro, you have to say the whole thing or…you know what? just say humans, kay’?”

“Homo humans!”

“…not better. also, are you talking about actual fish, undyne or water monsters?”

“WHO CARES?” yelled the young girl. “THE MORE SOLDIERS THE BETTER!” She grinned proudly, her hands on her hips. No one would expect an attack from the water AND the land, the next war against humans was as good as won.

That is, if no adults found out about it. They didn’t appreciate Undyne’s ingenious war strategies like Papyrus did.

No matter how helpful or cool they were, adults always seemed to have a problem with her ideas, and unfortunately, Sans and Gaster were no different. For most of them to work, she needed science nerds, but they saw her plans the same way they saw Papyrus’s, terrible and “asinine.”

The Royal Scientist’s words, not hers.

She didn’t know what “asinine” meant, but it had the word “ass” in it, so she assumed their father was calling her ideas booty.

My ideas aren’t ass!

My ideas are GREAT!

Stupid, crappy, science dweeb, is just lazy. How hard can it be to build a giant robot? Isn’t there already someone asking him to do that already?

“…A giant robot can destroy entire towns, I saw it in a movie.”

“what are you talking about? are you still on about that robot army?” Sans sighed, a trademark sign of his that meant he thought she was being stupid. Undyne had heard it many times before.

“IT’S A GOOD IDEA!!” she screamed. “AND IT WASN’T AN ARMY, IT WAS JUST O-”  

“for the last time, if you saw something already done in a movie undyne, the humans know how to COUNTER it; they make the friggen’ things!”

Undyne’s so dumb…

“Yeah, but the movies are old, Sans! They’re in the Dump, because no one watches them anymore! We’ll have the element of surprise.”

“I wish to pilot a Gundam, big Buther.”

“SEE?! Papyrus wants it!” she said, pointing at the baby bones. “You want to blow up a town widdle Pappy?”

The infant smiled and bounced up and down on his rear end excitedly. “Yeah yeah yeah!” he said, ignoring his sibling’s frown. “I’s Middle Eastern ya’ know…is mah calling.”

“still don’t know what middle ease is, pap.”

“Middle East Snas! It mean I comes from da’ center of the earth…only is a liiiittle East.” The infant pinched his fingers together, squinting with one eye to make sure there was space between them, hoping he had solved the mystery.

“The center of the earth…?” Undyne looked confused. “You mean Hell?”

“i’d believe that.”

“Noooo! I’s on the WOOF of Hell…cept’ is a liiittle East.”

“Yeast…isn’t that the stuff bread is made from?”

“he’s saying east, undyne. it’s a direction.” Sans pointed towards where he knew the Lab was located.

“…That’s left, Sans-I MEAN RIGHT! That’s your right.”

“NYEH HEE HEE HEE!”

“SHUT UP PAPYRUS, I WASN’T WRONG!”

“you are.”

“YOU SHUT UP TOO!!”    

“how old are you?”

“YOU CAN’T ASK ME THAT! I’M A WOMAN, IT’S ILLEGAL!”

“Is you a baby like me, Fish Lady? If so, I gots a great product for you…”

“I’m NOT a baby, I’M GROWN!” Undyne stomped her foot angrily on the planks of the pier, scaring Sans a little. He had no idea how long those timbers had been there, but he knew people walked on them every day. Eventually, they would break and need to be replaced…probably by the pines in Snowdin.

There are some people who use them for firewood too though, I know Grillby does. What if we run out? How long does it take a pine tree to grow?

…

Who planted them there to begin with?

“Nyeh? You spacing again, big Buther?”

It was something he thought of often whenever he was bored, and he highly doubted it was the monsters doing.

“Come back down from space, Snas!”

No one knew what the inside of Mt. Ebott was like, which is why everyone in the beginning not only scrambled for a home as soon as possible, but also refused to leave it behind for something better. It didn’t make sense to begin with for the monsters to carry saplings with them into a mountain with little to no sunlight. Even if the sunlamps in Snowdin had been immediately installed, it would’ve taken time. Could the trees survive that long without the sun? Why were they all pine trees to begin with? If the monsters came from different environments all over the world, wouldn’t some have brought cacti, palm trees, and other tropical plants?

It’s like someone made preparations for us to live here…

“EARTH TO THE SNAS!”

“AH!”

“Stop daydreaming and tell da’ Fish Lady how great mah fundraiser be! She doesn’t want to buy my diapies…” said Papyrus quietly.

“Why are you naked?”

“s-sorry bro, i was thinking about the trees. how come there’s only pine trees and fruit trees in the underground?”

“Nyeh?”

Why was his brother always thinking about trees?

“There’s a fern in the Resort Area,” said Undyne, hoping to change the subject. She’d rather talk about plants than diapers.

“why though? who was the guy who went ‘hey, yeah, i know i’m being ushered out of my home with little to no warning and should prooobably pack everything i think will be needed to maintain my survival-”

“But this fern doh…” The young girl laughed, imagining the scenario. “I gotta take this fern, man!”

“*pfft!* c’mon undyne, for real-”

“FERNS BEFORE FOOD! FERNS BEFORE FAMILY!”

“NYEH HEE HEE HEE HEE!”  

“AND THESE FLOWERS, DUDE! I NEED THESE GOLDEN FLOWERS IN MY LIFE!”

Sans laughed in spite of himself as his baby brother let out a high-pitched screech of delight. As curious as he and it was, the comedian had to admit it was also pretty funny.

I guess back then, people didn’t have to worry so much about survival as they do now. They probably weren’t expecting things to be so hard down here.

It’s good that kids like us don’t have to worry about that sort of thing…most of us anyway.

Dad’s a douche, but our generation depends on him and he’s doing his best to deliver. Without him, the Underground would be doomed.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he was one of the worrying kids. The future frightened him; his father frightened him.

One of the perks of being invisible, aside from whenever the Royal Scientist needed him, was that Sans could go anywhere and do anything he pleased when off the clock. He knew about the Fallen and what his father was doing before Flowey even appeared to tell him, and he was willing to bet his brother did too.

Papyrus didn’t mess with the draining machine.

Sans noticed he didn’t talk about it either. There were no questions, no threats, no mentions whatsoever. In fact, these days Papyrus seemed to mellow out a bit in general, his pranks becoming fewer and fewer in number until the labs horrendous reputation began to fade. The baby bones had even gone out to recruit other bright minds to help in the lab, no doubt sensing his father’s incoming mental collapse.

Despite how serious their power problem was, the truth remained that they HAD oil. It was dangerous to use, but it was a choice Gaster had other than draining that he didn’t favor. He CHOSE murder, their father CHOSE to drain sick monsters who came to him for help, and showed absolutely no remorse or concern for his actions.

Not good.        

“Does Onion-chan gots ferns?”

“huh?”

“It’s Onionsan, Pappy. You’re spelling it wrong, and yes, those are ferns.”

“oh, you’re still talking about ferns…who’s onionsan?” asked Sans. He didn’t know much about the monsters that lived underwater, but apparently no citizen was safe from his little bro. He hoped he hadn’t caused too much trouble…

“Onionsan-chan be a monster from Japan, man!” replied the infant, enjoying his tongue twister. “I doesn’t know how he got here dough…”

“OnionSAN, Papyrus-”

“They too big for mah diapies, so we not visit the tentacles today.”

“what?”

“Onionsan is a monster that looks like an octopus. I’ve never heard of Japan though.”

“Is where the woah-bots come from, Fish Lady! Da’ Vocaloid and the Gundams and the aira-planes…”

“airplanes aren’t robot birds baby bro,” said Sans smiling.

“Nyeh? No bird? Tsundereplane lie…?”

“huh?”

This alarmed Sans. Papyrus was behaving himself more in the lab, but that meant he was spending most of his time outside where it was dangerous.

Who’s Tsundereplane? How many people is he talking to?!

“you know what? it doesn’t matter. stop talking to strangers papyrus, it’s dang-PAPYRUS!”

BEEP BEEP!

Taking Sans’ phone out of his pocket via wingdings, Papyrus called his “friend” on speed dial.

“Hellwoe?”

“papyrus, stop!”

Who the hell gave him their number?! How long has that been in my phone?!  

“Yep, is da’ baby…”

“hang up, papyrus. whoever gave you their number isn’t a sane person-”

“Snas say you’s not a whoa-bot bird Tsundereplane. Why you lie to cute widdle me?”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“WELL SCU YOU TOO, STINK ARROW-PLANE! I BEAT YO’ ASS!”  

BEEP!

“…”

“…Tsundereplane not my friend no more.”

“Aww…poor Pappy…” Undyne patted the infant’s skull.

“don’t feel sorry for him! that’s what he gets for talking to strangers, maybe next time he’ll think before putting numbers in MY phone!”

“Yep, woe is me Fish Lady…”

“are you even listening to me?”

“…First they steals mah jammies and now they lie and call me an idiot-face. I am the saddest of cheerios…”

“THEY STOLE YOUR CLOTHES?!”

“you little shit.”

“STEALING’S ILLEGAL! Don’t worry Pappy, THE UNSTOPPABLE UNDYNE WILL GET YOUR CLOTHES BACK!”

“he’s lying undyne-”

Sans reached out to stop her, but Undyne was already off towards Hotland.

Damnit!

There’s no way he’d catch her, he didn’t even know who or where Tsundereplane was.

I don’t even know what they LOOK like…an airplane probably, but…

“Nyeh hee hee hee!”

“*humph!* i bet you’re pretty proud of yourself, huh baby bro?”

“Yes.”

“you think you did the right thing?”

“Yes.”

“what do you think’s gonna happen when undyne finds out you were lying?”

“She gonna come back and do the accu-sa-tions and Imma say ‘they throw my jammies in da’ lava?’ then I’s gonna cry reeeal loud, and she gonna feel sorry for me.”

“…”

“She’ll say, ‘aww, I didn’t think of that! Poor baby Pappy…I should go out and buy you NEW jammies!’ and then I say, ‘no, no, you’s done enough.”

“…is that right?”

“Yep. I say, “Just gives me some monies and I go gets em’. Shopping be boring.’ Then she gonna go ‘you’s right! Shopping IS boring. Here are some monies…and a widdle extra for the accu-sa-tions.”

“…”

“That’s when I be reeeal nice and say ‘keep da’ extra, you deserves it for being a good friend to da’ baby.’ Then I buys candy and I eats it, then we all live happy ever after.”

“…i’m calling undyne.”

“WHY YOU GOTS TO DESTROY MY HAPPY AFTER?”

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

“I’M NOT SELLING YOU NOTHIIIIINN’!!!” screamed Papyrus, “NYEH!” Snatching his brother’s phone, the baby bones took off running towards Snowdin.

“PAPYRUS! PAPYRUS, NO!”

“NYEH HEE HEE HEE HEE!”

“DO NOT GO INTO TOWN NAKED, PAPYRUS!”

Friggin’ dumbass! There’re dogs everywhere there, he can’t be showing that many bones, he’ll get eaten!

Or they would.

Probably the dogs.

Either way, Sans knew who would ultimately be blamed.

“GOOD LUCK FINDING ME IN DA’ SNOW BIG BUTHER!”

“ugh, shit!”

POOF!

With an enthusiastic smile, Papyrus leapt into a snow poff as soon as his sibling lost sight of him. There was no way Sans would find a tiny white skeleton in a snowfield. It would be like finding a needle in a haystack…whatever a haystack was.

Finally, his Michael Jackson syndrome was paying off.

“Nyeh? *sniff sniff*”

That was odd. The snow poff he was in smelled like doody. Well, actually, the whole town smelled like a barnyard, but this was especially bad…

“*huff puff* pa-papyrus…”

“…”

“papyrus, i know you’re in there, your tracks lead right to the snow poff field!”

“…Those could be anybody’s tracks, there’s no baby here, skelly-man.”

“really? heh heh, well that’s weird. most people who live in snowdin avoid the snow poffs.”

“…I had to move cause’ I missed my rent. This my home now.”

Sans laughed; his brother had no idea. “woooow, that sucks. i’d personally hate to live in a poop-igloo, but you do you man, ha ha ha!”

“What?” Papyrus poked his head out of the snow poff and looked down.

“yep. the reason the snow is built up in this area and nowhere else, is because this is where people dump their chamber pots.”

“…”

“the snow tends to build on top of the droppings and that’s what makes these little mounds, cool huh?”

“…”

“asgore is trying to get plumbing up and running, but it’ll be a while before THAT happens, what with the power issue and all. personally? i don’t see it happening. people make money gathering these snow poffs up to sell for fertilizer.”

Without saying a word, Papyrus climbed out of the snow poff and walked towards the Ruins. It was the longest route to a river, but at least it didn’t cut through town.

“papyrus?”

“Shut up.”

“aww, what’s wrong pappy? paaappyyyy-”

SPLASH!

The baby bones jumped into the river, using his wingdings to hold himself steady in order to keep from being swept away by the current.

“…”

“oh no, pappy! you can’t just hop into the river, the fishies will see your butt!”

“…”

“you know what you need to catch those doodies? what every baby needs?”

“Choke on bread.”

“a dia-”

SPLASH!  

“heh.”

[aconstellationofmemories]

Fading Conscience: Part One

In celebration of @juvialos-blog 's birthday, the Undead Girls aka @sweetmemories2606 and I teamed up to write a two-part Gruvia fanfic. I'm honoured that the Queen of Angst entrusted the angsty scenes to me. Please stay tuned for Part Two from her!

I wish a very happy birthday to @juvialos-blog. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it, Mina. 💛🎉

Word count: 1.3k

AO3

____________________

“You know, you have the potential to be one of us.”

Gray stared in apprehension at Invel’s sudden proposition. The frigid winds of the raging blizzard gusted mercilessly around them. Being an ice mage, he developed an immunity to cold, but this – this was on another level altogether. For the first time in his life, a snowstorm chilled his bones and threatened to freeze him.

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed it yourself, but darkness is seeping into your heart.”

“Huh? What is this crap you’re sprouting?”

“It is the darkness itself that is the origin of black magic. The root of His Majesty’s power.”

All this philosophical crap was hurting his head. “Wait, you know you’re the villain here?”

“Darkness is unrelated to the concepts of good and evil. It is a tremendous source of power, one that any human being can possess,” Invel explained, pinning him a cold stare. “And the darkness within you is on the verge of release.”

Gray had enough of the hypocrite’s preaching. Whether the darkness of the Devil Slayer magic he inherited from his father was swallowing his heart or making him a monster, he would become darkness itself if he could protect his family.

“Quit it with that nonsense,” he said, clenching his fist. “I ain’t never been the squeaky-clean hero type anyway!” Gray levelled Invel a glowering look. “Evil, scum – I don’t care. I will become any of those things if it’s to save my guild!”

“You tell ‘im, Gray!” Natsu exclaimed as his flames melted the supposedly pure ice of Invel. “That’s what it means to be in Fairy Tail!”

“The ice melted!” Happy cheered.

“Hot!! Cold!!” Lucy exclaimed.

“Is Gray-sama all right?!” Juvia inquired in alarm.

Gray glanced back, relieved to see them all freed from Invel’s ice. “You’re free...”

“Now to turn the tables! We can win this if we work together!” Lucy’s speech abruptly ended with a squeal.

“I’m taking these,” a giant Brandish proclaimed out of nowhere, seizing Lucy, Natsu, and Happy in her enlarged hands.

Without waiting for anyone’s acknowledgement, she pivoted on her heels and stomped away. Her footsteps thundered and shook the ground with each heavy step. Gray could faintly hear the trio’s protests at being carried away against their will, all of which fell on deaf ears.

“Hold it right there!” he shouted to Brandish as he watched on helplessly.

“Gray-sama!!”

Juvia turned to approach him, but stumbled on her way and swayed to the sides. “Juvia is...” she pressed a hand to her head, sounding confused. “Juvia...” she trailed off, and a second later – she collapsed.

“Juvia!”

Gray rushed to catch her in his arms. She was knocked out for no apparent reason suddenly. Damn it, not Juvia too. “Oi! What’s wrong with you?!”

“She fainted because of a curse I set on her,” Invel calmly declared amid his confusion.

“You bastard–” Gray gritted his teeth, his angry gaze slicing him. His death glare promised retribution for harming Juvia.

“Only a true love’s kiss can dispel the curse and wake her.”

True love’s kiss?

Of all things, Gray wasn’t expecting a kiss to lift the curse. What game was Invel playing with him? Could he even believe what Invel was saying? His gaze dipped down to Juvia in his arms. He knew fully well of her feelings for him. She wore her heart on her sleeve for the world to see. His feelings, on the other hand, weren’t as clear-cut.

Was he capable of loving someone?

He didn’t know.

Love was a foreign emotion for the ice mage, and he preferred to keep it that way.

What he did know for certain, however, was that he would protect Juvia to his last breath.

With his desire to keep her safe burning brightly, he leaned down in an attempt to lift the sleeping curse.

His descent was stopped short when an ice collar secured itself around his neck. Something strange was happening – his brain felt fuzzy all of a sudden, his mind disoriented and his thoughts jumbled. He raised his hand to his forehead. “What...is this...? My mind is all cloudy – I can’t think–”

“Ice Lock,” Invel’s sombre voice penetrated the fog in his mind. “This magic locks away the mind and makes the body into my puppet.”

“This little thing, I can break it–” Gray gripped the ice collar. There was no ice which he couldn’t break. Yet no matter how hard he tried, he failed to break the band.

“Well then...” Invel instructed, smirking ever so slightly. “I invite you to kill your own comrade at your leisure.”

“Juvia...no...” Gray squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. He could never lift a finger to hurt her, and yet...

The next moment his eyes opened, his betraying hands were closed around her delicate neck. Every neuron in his brain compelled him to strangle the life out of her.

“No...I can’t...” His entire body shook from the effort. Damn it. His body was disobeying his desperate orders at the worst time. Rapidly losing control of his consciousness, he racked his brains for a way to stop this transgression immediately.

Yes, that’s it.

“Your resistance is futile,” Invel said, “Ice Lock robs you of the ability to think or feel.”

Gathering what little willpower he had left, Gray released Juvia’s neck – and stabbed himself in the abdomen with an ice sword.

“You – you sacrificed your life for your comrade?!” Invel blurted, shocked at his sacrifice. For the first time, the bastard had a reaction.

“I would...rather die...than kill my comrade...no, Juvia...” he forced his words out. Gray glared defiantly at Invel even at his death, proving to him that he wasn’t puppet to manipulate to his wishes. His emotions and desire to protect his family were stronger than any magic in the world.

“I miscalculated,” Invel said, pushing up his specs as he composed himself. “Now that it has come to this, I must see to eliminating E.N.D myself.” Not sparing them another glance, he turned his back on them and strode away.

With the departure of the Pure Ice mage, the blizzard disappeared with its caster. The Ice Lock which collared Gray perished into thin air.

Lying on his back as he bled out, he twisted his head to glance at Juvia beside him. Rebelling against his failing body and stiff muscles, he summoned the last bit of his strength and stretched out his fingers toward her. His bloody fingers crawled slowly on the ground as they inched closer to her hand, leaving a scarlet trail behind each step.

“Juvia...”

Just for one last time, he wished he could see her smile.

“Gray-sama!”

He was glad his mind was recovering from Invel’s mind control, for he swore he could hear her sweet, bubbly voice. She was calling him name with such joy and fondness.

What I wouldn’t give to hear it forever.

He coughed out in pain, his hands halfway to their destination. “Juvia...”

Looking back now, he was relieved that she was sleeping for the whole time. This way, she wouldn’t have to witness him being mind-controlled, or when he tried to kill her with his hands...

...or when he took his last breath.

There’d be no traumatic memory of the event to haunt her.

It’s better this way.

He wasn’t worried about Juvia’s well-being. Natsu and the rest would find a way to lift the curse. Knowing he protected her till the very end, he could resign to his fate peacefully.

Less than an inch away from touching the tips of her slender fingers, his trembling hand faltered, then dropped with solemn finality.

I’m sorry, Juvia.

“I–”

The lids of his eyes fell shut and the darkness swallowed his world.

[streamacademe]

Week 106, Day 735.

My trip to Scotland was a success and I managed to collect some samples! But, I don’t want to talk about that this week. As my 3rd year has officially commenced, I would instead like to dedicate this post to lessons I’ve learned as a 2nd year PhD student and reiterate over my coping strategies.  So, without further ado... 10 lessons I learned as a 2nd year PhD student:

Be prepared to face some dark times with your mental health - I won’t lie to you, it can, and probably will get pretty ugly. At times it will feel like the entire world is on your shoulders and you can’t breathe. I have had countless mental breakdowns this year, which usually involve bawling my eyes out and hyperventilating, before passing out from the exhaustion of it all, then coming around and crying again. Not fun. I have also suffered from insomnia, and, on the flip side, have had many days where I couldn’t get out of bed. I have included some coping strategies for set backs with mental health at the end of this post. 

It will get hard and you’re going to want to quit - I’m sorry to be a bit of a downer, but it’s the truth. For me, giving up is not an option, but even I have had days where I’ve wanted to quit. It’s probably in the terms and conditions of a PhD to feel like this sometimes, but no one ever reads those. How you keep the love for your project glowing is for you to figure out. I always think of the finish line and of how far I’ve come. Or neck a glass of wine, that also helps...

Find a balance between feeling terrified and apathetic, and stupid and self-assured - PhD’s are terrifying, which I appreciate can be exhausting and can lead to feeling apathetic. However, apathy is both a blessing and a curse. It may make you feel calmer and more able, but it sure as hell won’t motivate you to try harder and do better. The same applies for feeling self-assured; yes, you’re clearly a clever bean for getting this far and you should acknowledge and celebrate that, but feeling stupid pushes us to seek knowledge, which is what science is all about. 

Focus on genuine priorities - Procrastination/dedicating your time to non-essential tasks are your no.1 enemies. PhD’s are extremely unpredictable and you have to try and be ahead of the game or you risk falling too far behind. So make sure you know exactly what your priorities are and treat them as such. 

To do lists and GANTT charts are life savers - On your worst days,  refer to these to reorient yourself and stay on track. Make sure they’re always up to date, kept neat, and, most importantly, realistic. 

Self-care is critical - And no, I don’t just mean bubble baths with scented candles every night, although those are definitely helpful. Self-care is looking after your mental, physical, and emotional well-being. Pushing yourself too hard can end really badly. Use me as an example, I pushed myself too hard physically and damaged my spine, which resulted in me taking a week off work. I won’t even mention the amount of mental health set backs I’ve had. So, do whatever it is that allows you to rest your bones, de-frazzles your mind, makes you happy, helps you feel better, and makes you feel like you can keep going. 

You have to learn to say ‘no’ - This will probably be something you’re not used to or are comfortable doing, but I have learned from personal experience that this is literally the most important thing when it comes to  looking after yourself and avoiding burnout. 

Your personal growth is impossible to ignore - Who you are when you start your PhD is definitely not the person you will be at the end. You never stop learning and developing in a PhD, but like, at an accelerated rate. I find it fascinating looking back at my progress reports; something that may have felt impossible 6 months ago is now the norm. 

Rely on your supervisors for help - THIS IS SO IMPORTANT. You DO NOT have to do everything alone. Ask questions, talk to them about your problems, seek their advice. And if they make you feel inferior, uncomfortable, stupid, or make themselves unavailable to you, contact your student support office/r, because a supervisor should NEVER do that. Furthermore, don’t be afraid to voice your opinions and stand your ground with your superiors, they are only human, just like you, and if you feel like they are misguiding or misunderstanding you, tell them. This is your PhD, not anybody else’s. 

Remember that your PhD is your work not your life - As hard as that may be. That is all. 

My ways of coping with the challenges of doing a PhD:

Spend time with animals and in nature - Honestly, if I had to choose just one bit of advice, it’d be this. Animals are the definition of joy, and being in nature always reminds me how beautiful the world can be, irrespective of how dark and rubbish mine may feel at times. 

Sleep - Getting enough sleep makes my anxiety more manageable, my mood better, and means I have more energy to deal with what life has to throw at me. Don’t listen to how much sleep you “should” have, instead listen to your body and work with it. Personally, I aim for at least 8 hours a night. 

Minimalism - I have mentioned minimalism many times on my blog. The benefits of this lifestyle are countless. With respect to my PhD, living with less allows me to have more room to breathe and think. It also means I spend more time on experiences instead of material things. Minimalism also allows me to live intentionally and aligns with my personal values. This in return means that I am more at peace with the life I lead outside of my PhD. 

Save money - Not only do savings mean a sense of security, but having money set aside can be really helpful if you are in need of a getaway or simply want to treat yourself without getting into debt. Furthermore, as there is no guarantee of a job straight after your PhD, or if your funding runs out before you finish, it is essential to have some savings as a safety net to fall on if need be. 

Read - I use books as a form of escape from reality, typically reading either before bed or in the morning before work. It helps take my mind off  the stresses that clutter my brain.

Exercise, eat healthy, and drink plenty of water - I know you’ve heard it all before, but here it is again. It works.

Red Bull (as a last resort) - There are many things in life that have impacted my ability to focus this year, including long drives, bad news, sleepless nights, and mental health issues. However, life doesn’t stop when you want to and so when I’m really struggling I turn to Red Bull for help, and it really does help me. (I don’t drink coffee and tea doesn’t cut it). I always ensure not to drink more than one can a day or drink alcohol within the same 24 hours that I’ve drank Red Bull in. 

How I try to cope with mental health set backs: Disclaimer: ‘Try’ is a critical word here as it is not always easy or straightforward to do the below, and, sadly, sometimes none of these suggestions work. 

Talk about it - I HATE talking about my mental health issues to people as I don’t want to burden my friends, upset my family, or appear weak at work. However, there are times where I’ve had to, and it’s helped. I mainly talk to my boyfriend about it, but should probably see a therapist. Hey ho, small steps. If you really can’t talk about it, write about it, either publicly or privately. 

Perspective - I have been watching a show called ‘New Amsterdam’ recently, which has really helped me see how insignificant some of my problems are. That’s not to say you’re not allowed to feel like crap just because you’re not having open heart surgery, of course you are, but trying to do things that change your perspective can be very helpful in coming out of a mental health episode. Geddit?

Give back - There is always someone having a worse time than you and nothing helps to snap you out of your pity party like lending a helping hand. Whether it’s volunteering at a homeless shelter, running a marathon for charity, or simply donating what you can to a cause you believe in. Give back. 

Headspace - I’m sure you’ve heard of this app/website, if not, here it is. Personally, I don’t like Andy Puddicombes voice, or listening to a human in general, so I don’t use the platform for meditation, but they do have a great range of sleepcasts and sounds, which I use to combat my insomnia. 

Calming medication (natural) - I use an essential oil aromatherapy roller ball to help me overcome an anxious episode or get me off to sleep. Personally, I use Tisserand for these. I also use Rescue Remedy drops for the same reason (these contain alcohol so aren’t for everyone). 

Get the F off of social media for a while - Honestly, your phone isn’t an essential organ, take a break from it, see what wonders it can do for you.

Cut out toxic/negative people - Fill your life with wholesome people, get rid of anyone that makes your recovery impossible, or your life difficult. Be as harsh as you need to be, cry about it, drink about it, but do it, and don’t go back. Here’s a great song to support you through this.  

That is all folks. It took me all day to write this, so I hope it’s at least somewhat helpful. ❤ Peace. 

Photo: A photo of a sunset that made me feel better after an especially difficult day. Source: My camera.

[evolutionsvoid]

It turns out victories are not as quick and clean as people think they are. When the enemy is defeated and the day is won, everyone thinks it just ends there and we all live happily ever after. That was what we thought when we finally toppled that leviathan, believing that our troubles were over the second that beast breathed its last. After all the cheering, celebrating and partying, though, everyone kind of realized that it wasn't over. We all looked at the aftermath and noticed there is a 100,000 ton corpse still sprawled all over downtown. Rivers of blood and debris were flowing through the streets and the holes we blasted into its hide were now leaking the foul stench of decay. After all the efforts and sacrifice, the heroes now had to play the role of cleanup crew. Even in death, the great beast proved to be a daunting opponent. With such a size and weight, you couldn't exactly toss a rope around it and tow it to the dump. Our only option was to take it out in pieces, and that wasn't easy either. Bunker busting bombs were the only thing that had penetrated its armored hide, and even then multiple runs had to be performed to reach its vulnerable flesh. Saws and blades were useless against the massive carcass, and drills only succeeded in poking extra holes. Controlled demolition was our only option, which made the scientific community practically foam at the mouth with rage. Even as the beast trampled over the city, they had talked of studying the beast and learning how such an impossible being even existed. When it perished under a hail of bombs and missiles, they assumed that they would get free reign over the carcass, to use it as they saw fit. When said corpse is draped over dozens of businesses and corporations, though, people with money tend to complain. It didn't help that the thing reeked to the high heavens, and rebuilding the city was impossible with it there. So the choice was made to blow the thing into manageable chunks, which would then be hauled to some facility so that research could be done on what remained. Crazy to think that such a decision led to so much misery. If we had given the scientists time to study the beast and learn more about its biology, then maybe we could have avoided the whole mess. On the first day of demolition, we targeted the weaker underbelly for the first charges. We had intended to relieve the build up of internal gases, and also to get access to the creature's fleshy inside for easier demolition. We armed the charges and stood back in our splatter suits, hoping that we were far enough away from the splash zone. With the press of a button, a chunk of the underbelly popped open in a fountain of gore. A great wave of gas, blood and rot shot out like a geyser, and with it came the worms. Pale squirming things the size of anacondas burst from the flowing wound and poured into the streets and crowd. Panic and chaos immediately took hold, as no one had been expecting a second battle. Soldiers scrambled for their weapons as the worms thrashed about in the open air. Over two dozen people were injured during the incident, as the flailing, slithering things ended up wrapping around the nearest warm body. Due to their size and strength, this snaky hug wound up snapping bone and cracking rib cages. Guns and flamethrowers were pulled out and the army moved to destroy these vile parasites. Once they were scorched, everyone went back to the drawing board. Moving this corpse was now a greater challenge, as we now had angry residents who did not agree with our relocation plans. Unfortunately, as the head honchos argued over strategies and ideas, something slipped our notice. It is believed that one or more worms escaped the destruction, and wound up in the city's sewer system. While we focused our attention on the massive carcass, it bathed in a nutrient rich stew of waste, kaiju blood and other crap. No one really knows what triggered its growth and mutation, but weeks after the worm incident, it came back for revenge. 

After reports of workers and soldiers disappearing throughout the city, we performed a search of the sewer system. Our presence and machines must have agitated it, as it burst from the pipes and shredded three different squads. Efforts to flush it out wound up driving it upwards, and it made its appearance to the surface world. While it was nowhere near the size and bulk of the leviathan, it was still a 300 meter long worm. And it was mad. The army immediately moved to kill it, but it proved to be a completely different beast to fight. It was fast, agile and it didn't have any of the delicate organs that its host had. Bullets and piercing missiles simply passed through its flesh, like stabbing a knife through a cake. Even when we blew its "head" off, it just slithered back into the depths and disappeared. Efforts were made to pursue it, but after fifteen people disappeared, everyone pulled back. Sadly, this battle would not end on that day. Or any day after that, as it still remains alive and dangerous. After multiple skirmishes and incidents, the terrible worm has mutated and grown into a monstrous form. Its regeneration and adaptive body has turned it into a parasitic hydra. Its new appearance inspired its new name, "Bitoso." A rather fitting name, as this horrible thing lives to bring misery to mankind. With these mutations and changes, it has become an even deadlier opponent than before. So far we have found that it can grow five different types of heads, and more may come in the future. Before, these were probably simple tools it used to feed on its host, but now they have mutated into powerful weapons. The "Anchor Head" is one that is petaled like a flower and barbed like a rose. While it was probably used to anchor itself to organs and tissue, it now serves as a piercing drill and thorny mace. The "Cutter Head" is a tendril covered thing that ends in a single wicked blade. Such a tool must have been grossly overpowered when it came to slicing through flesh, as it seems quite capable of cleaving through concrete and steel. The "Acid Head" is coated in boils filled with digestive fluids, and it can spray these caustic fluids with reckless abandon. Its lipped mouth parts can also serve as suction cups, latching on so that it can pump acid into a foe or structure. We have no idea how many have perished to this horrible head, as it sucks onto buildings and floods them with digestive fluid. "Spitter Heads" are a nasty one for our soldiers and weapons, as it fires streams of adhesive fluid with ridiculous accuracy. Perhaps it was once used to coat its body in a protective sheath, but now it serves to gunk up our vehicles and drown our fighters. The "Egg Heads" are probably the ones most feared and reviled. These plain clumps of eggs and bulbs can only explode when it comes to battle, but it also releases dozens of tiny larvae. More terrible worms will rain from the heavens, filling the streets with these horrible little things. Once they hit the ground, they desperately seek out a host, as the open air is painful to them. Unfortunately, humans are the only viable bodies nearby, which are a bit small for a parasite the size of your arm. Regardless of how poorly suited our flesh is, they slither to a victim with lightening speed and immediately seek out an open orifice. They will jam their bodies into any available hole and force themselves into the abdominal cavity. Due to their size and desperation, they tend to rip through the throat and internal organs, pulverizing the internal anatomy into soup. Those infected by these worms suffer a quick, but painful, death. Though the "Egg Heads" are destroyed with each use, it won't be long before a new head replaces it. Bitoso seems to have powerful regenerative properties, allowing it to grow new heads and sprout new appendages with each new injury. So much so, that it can actually detonate the bulbous parts of its neck to launch its head at a target, knowing that a new one will grow back in time. No matter how many times we fill it with lead and rip it to pieces, it just slithers off our radar and heals back up. Then we can only search and wait, not knowing which city or town it will attack next. While its healing powers seem to make it indestructible, there is something we fear even more. What if Bitoso is not as powerful as we thought? What if we actually killed during a few of our encounters? The great beast before it was filled with worms, and it is foolish to think only one made it so far. What if Bitoso is not one but many, and each new encounter is just another monstrosity rearing its head? We pray it is not so...   ----------------------------------------- And here is the last I got for Kaijune, which I think is my favorite of the bunch. If kaijus are animals, than they got to have parasites. And these little critters are not so small when compared to us...

[charliejrogers]

Bad Education (Or, Breaking Bad, except Walt is the superintendent and doesn’t know chemistry)

During my senior year at the College of the Holy Cross, the administration was absolutely ecstatic. USA Today had just come out with a new ranking of Catholic colleges in the country. We were named number two. Two! No one in the world has ever been this happy to be in second place since the Pepsi execs realized how much money they would make from their product’s prominent placement in Alexander Payne’s Election which wanted to mock its second-place status.

Yet this exuberance at being almost the best lies at the heart of Cory Finley’s Bad Education. The film tells the true story of an elite Long Island public school in 2002 that has just been named the fourth best public school in the country. The community couldn’t be more ecstatic. The film opens with the disembodied voice of a school board member addressing the community as they celebrate their recent ascent in the rankings. An especially enthusiastic introduction is given for the superintendent, Dr. Frank Tassone (Hugh Jackman), the man felt responsible for its rise. The words of his introduction are juxtaposed against shots of an empty football stadium, empty hallways, empty classrooms. This is not your typical high school, nor your typical high school movie; our hero won’t be found on the field or in the classroom. Instead, the next shot is of Dr. Tassone preparing his appearance in the bathroom like a star doing fixing his make-up check before the big show. The camera then follows closely behind Tassone as he approaches, as if capturing a prize fighter’s approach to the ring. He is greeted with thunderous applause, but the camera pauses, noticeably on a banner behind him reading “Ranked #4,” as if to say, “What’s the big deal? You’re only number 4.”

The big deal, as often in life, is money. Being #4 is enough to bring the school and its students money and attention: success. The film, occasionally intercutting images of gorgeous Long Island mansions, makes painfully clear that the strength of a town’s public schools can make or break the town’s economic success. And for the school board members, many of whom are involved real estate, they have never seen such high property values (or profits) since Tassone took charge of things. Nor have the students matriculated into nearly as many Ivy League schools before, with a letter of recommendation from Tassone seemingly bringing assured acceptance. Add to this that Tassone with his selfless and community-oriented focus holds the rare distinction of being beloved by all teachers and staff  and there is no one who could think to say a bad word about him.

And for good reason. Tassone walks the walk. He spends his nights studying teachers’ names, their classes, their hobbies like one of his students studying vocabulary terms. While at an education conference in Vegas, he’s in the front row taking notes and chatting with presenters; the teachers who came with him, meanwhile, are playing craps in the casinos.

The celebratory portrait I’ve painted so far leaves little in the way of conflict, of plot. HBO has billed the film as a dark comedy/drama, but its more accurate to describe it as a tragedy in the vein of the ancient Greeks. Like its Classical forebears, Oedipus Rex, Agamemnon, etc., this might as well have been titled Dr. Tassone, as the film devotes itself to the gradual unraveling of its protagonist’s secrets (some salacious, some nefarious) while never compromising its commitment to portraying its protagonist’s humanity. It’s a deeply sympathetic film, one which I’m sure is controversial in the Long Island community where Tassone worked.

I hesitate to say more about the plot as it is best experienced blind, though to mirror a theme from the film, what is in the public record cannot really be secret. But again, like the best of Greek tragedies, the biggest of Tassone’s secrets are unraveled unwittingly by his own agency: his urging of a young sophomore girl to dig her teeth deeper into journalism. While the exact details of this side plot differ from the real-life story, it is forgivable because the dramatic irony here is so exceedingly satisfying.

If the film falters anywhere, it is that while presenting Tassone as a good-hearted and good-intentioned human capable of deep love and whimsy even while he can intimidate along with the best of Hollywood’s toughest gangsters, the film fails to extend this approach to the rest of the cast. Allison Janey has made a career playing world-weary women who don’t seem to have a bone of compassion in their bodies (her role as Tonya’s mother in I, Tonya stands out), and here as Tassone’s right-hand woman, Pam Gluckin, she shines. But she is not given the full rounded-character treatment Tassone gets, often feeling more like a walking personification of unthinking greed. The same flatness of character goes for Gluckin’s niece (Annaleigh Ashford) and school board president Bob Spicer (a disgustingly mustachioed Ray Romano). This would have been a larger problem if Jackman weren’t so compelling in the lead, but he is.

Because where the film truly shines is in its use of a personal tragedy to outline larger societal problems. The film by no means justifies the actions that contribute to Tassone’s eventual fall, but certainly considers them worth discussing. What is it that Americans, particularly privileged, wealthy White Americans, want from their school system? Cultivation of creativity and curiosity? Social skills? Problem-solving? Help with basic arithmetic? No. The film argues, and argues compellingly, that providing a good education is secondary providing success, regardless of a student’s actual abilities and work ethic. Anything less than the best outcomes is unacceptable, yet no more than public funding should be afforded to this most important endeavor. Under such pressure, who wouldn’t crack?

 ***/ (Three and a half stars out of four)

Capsule Review: The age old tale of school superintendent vs. school newspaper!

[artificialqueens]

Amoretto - Chapter 3 - (Branjie) - dreamyunicorngirl

A/N: I am back! Sorry for the extremely long delay. Uni is kicking my butt - mostly because I genuinely assumed they would go easy on us in the first two weeks. Well - that wasn’t the case. I hope you can somewhat enjoy this chapter! Big thank you again to Meggie for being an amazing beta!

“We should get outta here.”

The blonde only rolls her eyes, as she carefully stretches her wings, at Vanessa’s exaggerated lash fluttering and her suggestive smirk. Not even buying her act for a second. The cackle afterwards already ruining her flirty illusion.

“And where do you wanna go in the middle of the night, ‘Ness?” Brooke asks, desperately trying to sound uninterested as she eyes the crowd around them, still not forgotten why she had stayed in the first place. Yet there isn’t a single sign of the other immortal, hiding in the crowd, to be seen. With one last disappointing glance she sighs heavily and lets her act fall, finally facing the young woman by her side. Desperately wanting to leave this hormone driven place.

“Ohh we’ve got a nickname - cute, Mary - so you don’t hate me all that much?”, Vanessa giggles as she elbows the ethereal women, doe eyes searching for the slightly hidden exit. Long brown curls bouncing as her head snaps around, attempting to find a way out of the sultry club in her highly intoxicated state.

“Also it’s a secret - so I can’t tell you where we are going”, she finally remembers to answer the blonde’s question, placing her left index finger in front of her dry lips - attempting to highlight her wannabe mysterious aura. Within a second though a cheshire cat smile peeks out beneath her finger as Brooke shakes her had - amused by the brunette’s state -, before she lets it drop down and grabs the blonde’s cold wrist instead, banning her way through the crowd. Unknown shoulders bump into the swaying Latina’s small figure, elbows nearly landing in her face and even a beverage finds its way on her dress, as she drags Brooke out of the bar - Cupid obviously evading any harm. Bypassers moving aside, subscousinsly making room for the present goddess. 

Brooke is seemingly impressed by the fact that Vanessa actually manages to find her way outdoors without getting into a heated fight with the guy who managed to spill some soda on her - according to the brunette - very expensive dress. Her olive-toned hands were already neatly tightened into fists, but one pointed look by Cupid was enough for her to turn around and let it go. Stomping through the barely lit corridor towards the exit.

As the cold wind hits their flushed bodies, even Brooke begins to shiver. Goosebumps cover her limbs and leave the woman, normally so used to the cold, a bit shaken up, though she welcomes the change of temperature, having felt like she was being cooked in a big soup bowl for the past two hours. Her grande wings are finally able to stretch to their full capacity. Tense shoulders roll back as she cracks her neck, trying to get rid of all the accumulated tension.

The bright pink neon sign of the night club illuminates the two stranded figures, painting them in a soft heavenly glow, highlighting Brooke’s empty leather quiver - a successful night, if you asked Venus . Both women deeply inhaling the cold air, eyes closed, simply enjoying the silence after a long night.

The blonde beauty’s mind tries to process tonight’s events. Running in circles - overthinking one life changing encounter. But she tries to keep her cool. Exhale. Inhale. Just breath. 

The inner peace found within these two beings is destroyed within a second. A car speeds by as men in their late twenties shout obscene comments at Vanessa, honking and laughing at the brunette’s fury painted cheeks.

Brooke expects an explosion. She can see the fire igniting  right in front of her eyes, waiting for Vanessa to unleash her irreparable destruction. She had seen it during lonely nights she spent looking out for the young woman - had seen her explode with anger at her heartbreaks.

But all she does is calmly flick them off and intertwines her fingers with a stunned Brooke, tugging her along while they turn the corner. Two figures walk in silence, hand in hand, the brunette taking the lead, following the directions written in her heart. 

With each corner they turn, they start to leave the inner city circle and all of the dark alleys littered with drunk party-goers behind.

Brooke silently lets herself dragged into uncertainty for the second time this night, blindly trusting the woman she barely knows. Stormy eyes carefully take in every inch of all the lonely streets they pass. Darkness, filling the space around them. Only the hum of overly loud TV screens disturb the calm silence every once in a awhile.

Occasionally she can spy strangers making out at a corner - none of them searching for something lasting - homeless people crashing on park banks or sleeping in the streets, stray dogs howling in the night - catching the younger woman off guard. A hint of a smile can be found on Brooke’s lips as the brunette jumps at the sound.

“Are you sure you we are going the right way?” Brooke asks after half an hour of lost wandering through less crowded streets. Fewer houses started to frame the ground they walk on as patches of nature claim their place.

“Trust me, Mary! I know where we’re going - it’s real special,” Vanessa calmly answers softly.

Brooke does a double take at the woman beside her, not having expected a soft mutter by her counterpart. Both of them had spent the majority of the walk in utter silence, simply enjoying the night silence around them, appreciating nature’s beauty around them. Not even a quick ramble from the brunette to conceal the awkward moment as Brooke let go of Vanessa’s hand.

They continue their journey until they reach the outer brim of the city. Slowly making their way through the forest adjacent to the meadow behind the last houses of the most rural area. The blonde catches sight of fireflies lighting up the bushes around them and baby rabbits settling down for the night in a small cave. Brooke immediately feels the shift within her as the two women disappear between the trunks. Complete calmness flood her being, feeling at home, far away from most humans. No need to hide, no need to pretend - even though no one could ever see her, besides Vanessa. Yet she still felt the pressure to behave a certain way since she discovered someone could actually see her - suddenly feeling the need to change. Wanting to fit it. Concealing her large wings and blood red arrows with a practiced smile and a polite nod in whatever direction she feels the imaginary eyes come from.

The deeper they make their way through the forest, the darker and louder it gets. Terra is celebrating Cupid’s arrival, bees are humming and birds are chirping their welcome melody, having missed their goddess. 

Brooke isn’t the only one to notice. Vanessa stops in her tracks to pet a little fox and comments on the fireflies and cooling breeze circling the two women.

But once they cross the last line of trees and arrive at abandoned lake, nature’s creatures fall silent after reaching their crescendo. Outer calmness can be felt on the meadow. Brooke feels the mysterious aura surrounding the place deep in her core as a harsh shiver runs down her body.

Vanessa stalks up to the lake, slightly swaying - Brooke wasn’t sure if it’s her high heels or the alcohol - taking a seat on a large rock right next to the edge of the lake. The brunette pulls her long locks into a low ponytail and lets her feet sway above the ground, staring down the stretch of water in front of her. 

Cupid watches from afar, keeps track of the Latina’s every move but doesn’t dare to come closer. Her feet are bound to the floor while she contemplates her next move. 

She could just run. Stop giving a crap about the woman she barely knows. Just leave her behind and return to her safe space and comfort zone. Yet something was holding her back. An invisible string of yarn pulling her closer to the mysterious girl - the one and only who has every properly laid her eyes on her. 

As if the brunette could read her mind, she turns around and pets the space on the rock next to her with a “What’s taking you so long, Mary?”

Apparently Brooke has no choice, but to follow the brunette’s request. 

So she lets her wings carry her the last few meters and joins the other woman on her rocky seat, nervously waiting for an explanation. One that she doesn’t immediately receive.

“And what are we supposed to do here?” she finally asks out loud, suspiciously eyeing the dark water, watching the reflection of the moon dance on its surface.

“Go skinny dipping,” Vanessa replies matter of factly, a sly grin stretched across her face as she pulls off her high heels.

The blonde snaps her head around, confusion written all over her face.

“What?” Furrowed brows stare at a cackling Latina who can barely control the harsh tones escaping her throat. 

“You know we just get nakey-nakey, Mami, and then dip our toes into the water. Go for a swim and shit - have some deep-ass conversations,” Vanessa explains, giggling along as she points towards the lake and bumps the other one’s shoulder. 

Within the swift of a moment she stands up and asks Brooke to unzip her dress. The blonde silently complies, watching the brunette take her panties off and make her way into the water, dipping her toes into the cold. Small waves lap at her olive tanned skin, hugging the woman’s figure, drenching all of her. 

Brooke hesitates shortly, as she keeps an eye on the short woman, yet she still somehow feels the strong urge to just run away. Bees are buzzing in her bones, keeping her restless, prepared to flee the place. 

Yet she is still being held back, like a stone in her chest weighing her down. An indescribable force clinging to her feet, keeping her in place. 

So with a deep yet shaky breath she decides to join the other woman, instead of giving into her primal urge of flight. Shy fingertips carefully peel of her white sheer robe, letting it pool around her bare feet.

Her wings flutter nervously as she catches the brunette staring. Doe eyes scan over her naked soul, pupils dilated as she bites her lipstick stained lips. Shamelessly enjoying the view.

“Do you always take your friends here to stare at them naked?” Brooke teases the brunette, whose eyes immediately snap back to her eyes, trying to break the heavy tension.

Vanessa’s soft smile falls for a second, before she catches herself and answers flirtatiously with a wink: “Just the real special ones, Brookey.”

The blonde quietly steps into the water, toes already drenched in the ice cold wet. Simply enjoying the added coolness to her frame. She closes her eyes as the water sweeps over her breasts, letting her head fall back, wetting her delicate hair.

“It’s actually quite nice here,“ she whispers after opening her eyes again, slowly walking into the deeper parts of the lake until she can’t stand anymore, stretching out her frame for a little swim.

“Yes, haven’t been here in a while though, not since the first girl I took here broke my heart and shit,” Vanessa mumbles, looking up to the stars as if she was reading memories of the past carved into the night sky.

“I am sorry,” Brooke whispers. Genuine regret leaking out of her throat - knowing she is responsible for that heartbreak. Wishing she hadn’t brought anything up in the first place even though she couldn’t have known Vanessa’s story.

“Nah, it’s fine. Aquaria wasn’t even really my type. Sure she was pretty but we didn’t click. I wanted a big ass romance, just like in the movies. Didn’t get one though,” Vanessa rambles on, while avoiding immediate eye contact as she walks in circles at the edge of the lake. Arms crossed across her chest, a shivering figure attempting to keep the warmth, finally daring to completely immerse herself in the deep wet, taking Brooke’s lead for once.

“Why would you even want that?” Brooke carefully voices, facing the brunette, studying her expression, not wanting to hurt her feelings. Nervously chewing at her bottom lip at asking her deepest rotted questions finally out loud.

“Want what?” Brown doe eyes fixate on her counterpart again, not fully grasping the depth of her question just yet.

“Love. Why are you so hung up on it?”Cupid elaborates her question, her wings hung low, swinging softly beneath the surface, creating tiny waves around her.

“I - I don’t know. I mean sort of I do know - I am human - we all just wanna feel loved, I guess?” Vanessa tries to answer the other woman’s way too existential question for her intoxicated state, pausing for a second to gather her thoughts, wanting to properly elaborate her thoughts. “You know ever since I was a child I dreamed of finding ‘the one’  - my prince or princess charming. I saw those romantic movies as a kid and read those fairytales with my abuela. I just always wanted that dream to come true - and still do. Just want to have someone that sticks by your side, no matter what. Deep down I just wanna be someone’s number one I guess. Give them my all in return and shit.”

For once the coldness of the water is actually hitting the young woman. A shiver runs up her entire figure as she hugs her bare frame, arms above the surface, graced by cool wind gusts. Feeling vulnerable for the first time this evening as she slowly sobers up, goosebumps covering her chest and arms. She slowly crosses her arms, hugging her own figure as she attempts to somewhat hide her bare soul. 

Brooke hums and nods her head at Vanessa’s explanation before stating the thoughts running through her mind: “I wish I could understand you humans and your obsession with it. It just seems like such a strange concept to me. Even if the relationship isn’t doomed, like most are.” Cupid rolls her eyes at her own statement, as if it was common knowledge. “I still don’t understand how it formed in the first place. Sure I play a big role in that, but still - I dont think I could care about someone enough to stick around.”

“I guess you just know why once you’ve actually been in love. Sure it isn’t always fun and games, especially if you have such bad luck like me, but there is always hope for a brighter future one day - shit I don’t know Mary, but love is just beautiful when it all works out - the warm fuzzy feeling and all…” Vanessa’s voice grows soft as she moves to the edge of the lake, carefully lowering herself into the shallow water.

A soft “mhh” escapes the goddess’s lips as she joins the other woman, letting her wings stretch above the lake’s surface, illuminated by the soft moonlight  as it reflects on her porcelain skin and nearly white hair. Making her glow from inside, contrasting her self-proclaimed, dark interior.

“But there must be someone you love. Don’t you at least love your parents?” Vanessa carefully studies the immortal’s side profile as she quietly voices her question, craving to know more about her strange counterpart.

“I don’t know my parents,” Brooke softly replies, nervous fingertips playing with shorter strands of hair. Stormy eyes flutter shut for a second - a sting to the place where her heart is supposed to be. 

“Hold up, bitch. You don’t know your parents?” Vanessa screeches, hands thrown in the air and eyes opened up wide, unobservant of the blonde’s pained expression.

“No,” Brooke replies coldly. Not ready to unpack her dizzy memories of the past.

“Then who raised you?” Vanessa asks seemingly confused, head leaning on her hand. Shuffling even closer to the mesmerizing girl.

“My two older sisters,” Cupid cuts her answer short, not willingly wanting to dig her own grave by giving away too much too soon.

“Sisters?” the Latina screams one octave higher than her usual truck driver voice, mouth hanging agape at Brooke Lynn’s sudden revelation. Her shoulders slouch back, nearly falling back into the deep water at her sudden twitch.

The blonde simply nods, her chest constricting at the thought. She hadn’t seen her sisters in millenia. All alone ever since their last encounter - only left with a hole in her chest. Left with her self-deprecating thoughts and ever burning questions.

“Spill the tea, sis.”  The brunette shifts again and pulls her knees up to her chest, arms wrapped around them, now completely facing the blonde.

With each passing second the blonde’s face gains more resemblance with a ice statue. Hollow eyes stare down her own reflection on the lake, words caught in her throat.

Moments pass in silence. Two figures lost in their own worlds.

“Well there are three of us. Detox, Kameron, and me. Three sisters. Three goddesses. We grew up together, they taught me everything I needed to know. But that was a long time ago. I don’t remember much,” Brooke mumbles, avoiding bright doe eyes, simply staring down her feet immersed in the cold liquid.

“Two sisters? Are they also Cupid ?” The brunette’s big eyes seem to grow even bigger in size with each new piece of information she receives. Lapping up all the answers she gets but still craving more.

“I don’t really know. I don’t know much about our existence in general. The humans just nicknamed me Cupid, I guess - don’t know what they call them though,” Brooke trails of, not fully knowing how to put her experiences into words.

“Have you seen them since?”

Brooke’s stomach sinks at the innocently voiced question.

“I lost contact to them once I was old enough,” she tries to vaguely answer.

“And you never saw them again? Like ever?” Vanessa attempts to dig deeper, shaky legs beneath the surface painting a picture of her inner state. 

Shit.

“Well I might have,” Brooke admits. The water plants besides her figure suddenly more interesting than anything else.

“I knew it! Spill it!” the brunette demands. Her body shaking with excitement as her grin grows bigger in size. 

“Tonight I might have seen one of my sisters - actually, she was talking to you Blue crystals peek out beneath slightly damp lashes. She takes a deep breath as the blonde furiously tries to blink away the tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. 

Deep green painted sorrow floods her lungs at the missed opportunity of the night. 

“Wait - no way - Kameron is your sister?” the brunette loudly whispers, slender hands clapped above her mouth. Eyes brightly lit at her revelation. 

"I don’t know if your friend was her, she just looked really familiar.” Brooke shrugs, not knowing why she even shared her suspicions. Attempting to casually wipe at her wet lash line, trying to erase any evidence of weakness. 

"But where are her wings though?” Vanessa furrows her brows, the underlying and unvoiced questions nearly burning a hole into the ground. 

“I have no idea.”

Flashes of memories and never dealt with emotions swirl through Cupid's head. Constricting her chest and never wanting to let go. 

"That’s why I stuck around, you know - tried to figure out who she actually is,” Brooke attempts to explain, not knowing any answer to Vanessa’s urgent questions - and neither to her own. 

“Damn mami, that’s a goddamn mystery. Should be on Buzzfeed Unsolved ”, Vanessa cackles as she shakes her hair like a wet dog just getting out of the rain. 

“Wait what?" 

"Never mind.” The brunette’s laugh just intesifes at the blonde’s visible confusion. 

Vanessa crawls down out of the shallow water they’ve been sitting in and silently battles putting on her dress again - before the ladylike creature offers her help. 

"So that’s all you have. Two sisters. No parents. You are Cupid , don’t get the concept of love and neither know much about your existence. Real cute - Mary. Nearly as much of a mess as I am. " 

Two equally as intoxicating laughs haul through the night air as the two figures take a seat on a still mildly warm rock. Heavy doe eyes flutter shut as the young woman falls asleep on her shoulder during sunrise. The first ray of sunlight illuminates the wings of cupid as she carries the woman home, lovingly tucking her into her bed. 

[sparda3g]

Gintama Chapter 703 Review

This chapter is amazing. I don’t need to review it; just leave it like that and you already know why. Joking aside (not really), what is there to say about it? It’s not the chapter I thought I wanted, but it’s the chapter I didn’t think I needed. It’s Gintama at its finest in its serious tone. It’s the finale that surpassed the last Utsuro battle. It’s the finale that surpassed my expectation, and trust me, it was pretty high. It’s the finale that the fans will forever remember.

Right from the beginning, it’s a knee-jerking experience with a sheer amount of intensity in the air. Gintoki and Utsuro are not even fighting, yet I got goosebumps just reading their dialogues. Speaking of which, Utsuro continue to be the most sinister villain in a long time for Shounen Jump. I know it’s technically not part of it anymore, but it did spawn from it. The point is, Utsuro is intimidating as always, drawing the aura of sinister that have outsmarted everyone.

He retells the whole story on why and how all the events led to this moment, in case if you are confused. Above all, it does add the shivering feeling because of how right he was about everything. The line about the path makes a callback, which makes me happy, because I reflect this many times before on how important his words were. That means I didn’t overthink it; Sorachi acknowledged it. Also, it adds more to the theme of Silver Soul; a necessary conflict to challenge. Lastly and more importantly, it adds more to Gintoki’s character; a man who can’t escape the tragic path that happened to repeat itself. It’s a mad world.

The showdown between the two have been on-point and stellar, and they haven’t yet to attack to make it so. Even Gintoki grasping his sword got me chills; that’s how unnerving it is. He may have gone through hell, but he will forever keep his words with his friends. No matter what happens, they will find their way to regroup. The conversation is so compelling. It doesn’t resort to power of friendship in blatant terms. All of their words felt meaningful because it relates perfectly to their characters. Those words about Takasugi made me feel so good, but it ultimately segue to a twist to Utsuro’s own game.

The twist is great because it finally put Utsuro in his own mind game, and rightfully deserved. It turns out that he was the one lying down and Shouyo was never there. It was confusing, of course, but the explanation is pretty rewarding. We last saw him about to kill Shouyo, but it actually never went through. He was stopped by Oboro because his blood was also consumed. This makes sense, especially when we just learned about how everything works. Not only that, but it’s even better with him being the one to stop. How can Sorachi make a dead guy, who was once a villain, become so likable in after life? That’s amazing.

I got so gleeful when Gintoki takes the role of a tyrant, looking down on Utsuro. It’s like I have foodgasm without taking a bite. The mind game on Utsuro is awesome; that line delivery about what he sees is superb. Takasugi stabbed himself rather than on Shouyo; that commitment cannot be broken. Gintoki’s strike is so well earned, along with the parallel. To recap, Shouyo is saved (for now) and he’s going to be helped by Yorozuya. Those moments were stellar enough, the next scene is downright masterful, but it comes with a heavy price.

It’s really tough to choose the best scene of this chapter. It’s interchangeable to me. Regardless, the next scene is perhaps the moment I never expected. I was so hung on the idea that the final battle must be explosive, literally or not, tons of action, and a solid storytelling. Maybe because plenty of writers thought bigger means better. That is not the case, and that’s a great thing. What the fans get and thankfully understand the nature and premise, is a wonderful climatic end.

Just before the final exchange, there’s one more conversation; preparing you for the greatness. The bone-chilling feeling that I have comes from Gintoki posing like a true Samurai, ready to fight. That cold stare only increase the chill factor. Utsuro’s words are hurtful, especially when he more or less guilt tripping Gintoki. Words about losing a master and a friend; those are stabbing to the heart pain. The narrative is whether the end path for Gintoki will forever be an empty void. Shouyo is saved, but will Takasugi be saved as well? The answer is yes; just not what you’re hoping for.

It’s badass enough for Gintoki to pose as a Samurai; it’s even more so when he doesn’t move at all to all of Utsuro’s hit. None of them connects; he stands as he knows he will never be empty. The ones he wanted to protect are right there, in his soul. That panel with Takasugi preventing Utsuro’s attacks is pure awesome. That’s friendship at its best. The next scene…is mesmerizing. Everything is impactful for one main reason: the storytelling. If Utsuro was just himself, it would have been pretty cool, but that would be the end of it. It would have been a high-five victory only. However, this is Takasugi’s body, so the story has changed. It’s a heartbreaking story that will pain the fans. It’s a tragic story that must be done. And I love it.

I love every single panel. It’s all one-sided, but it’s incredible. Much like how One Punch Man is brilliant at one-hit gag, this is brilliant at finishing the fight in a one-sided beat down with a crushing soul. I love how every hit slowly eats Gintoki’s calmness, closing in to kill Utsuro, but above all, kill his best friend. The memories begin to surface, causing me to feel the agony. I can’t do it justice here, but it’s simply gorgeous. My favorite part is the sword reflection. No matter what happens, no matter if Takasugi has to die, the reflection shows true color: he is proud of Gintoki. This is unfair. I don’t want to cry.

The way how it was paneled is amazing. It is an emotional roller coaster and each passing panel draws closer to sad fate. It aches me when it zooms in Gintoki’s eyes; understanding the pain he has to go through, but it has to be done. That roar as he holds Takasugi’s sword is chilling. The sad part is, I wanted to cheer and celebrate, but instead, I found myself pleading to stop. The double page spread says it all; epic but heartbreaking. The deed is done. I love Utsuro’s end as he truly learned the lesson as he dies; the lesson of humanity staying strong in the soul. It speaks well to his character and it’s better than simply meet people with strong willpower. It’s a great moral that captured the theme. I honestly didn’t do justice on the scene, but it’s one I often go back dozens and dozens of time; no exaggeration.

The scene with Yorozuya and Shouyo is something I thought I would never see, but undoubtedly welcoming. It makes completely sense for them to interact; it’s simply the past meet the present. It also works out well to give Shouyo a better light that his action has its upbringing and that is giving Gintoki the life he has. The panels with Gintoki looking down at Takasugi with a line about saving or protecting is quite telling. It’s very fitting for Shinpachi to be the one to thank Shouyo for meeting Gintoki. Who knows what would have happened instead if they didn’t meet. It’s such a nice moment of two generations bonding. Now, here comes the hardest part.

I wasn’t so sure what to prepare for, but it’s not the writing fault. It’s me hoping for a quick asspull or something people despise in Shounen genre. The series may be at the end, but to see a very popular character to die is hard to accept. Rarely that happens. Maybe, Takasugi would receive the Sasuke treatment, even if it was bull crap. Sadly, Sorachi doesn’t play that way. In short, this is it; pay respect one last time.

It’s as everything you can expect; it’s downright sad. I find it morbid to think the wins and losses count was a huge indication for their end. It was designed for one to receive the win to decide it all, but at a price of a life. Not like this. Even so, it’s touching that Gintoki doesn’t want the victory, even if Takasugi finds it pity. I love their last share of conversation, talking about how they were bitter with each other since youth, but they could have been best of friends. Scratch that; they always have been. What hurts me the most is the fact Takasugi had lived in the past for so long and what could have been show plenty of possibilities; but his death means it wasn’t meant to be. If that’s not tragic, I don’t know what is.

When I read the chapter’s title, I was speculating that it could mean a good thing. Technically, I was right, but not like this. Sorachi truly knows how to make something simple, complex, small, or large absolute meaningful, and by God, this is no exception. Takasugi’s left eye’s final vision was the tear of his best friend. The right should see Gintoki as the man he knows very well; the man he can called an eternal rival. That’s his final wish, and Gintoki grants that with a smile. The eye slowly closes; God, it’s hard. He vowed to get his win one day in Hell, and Takasugi will be waiting.

He’s gone. Gintoki cries. Powerful. Simply powerful.

Everything from this scene, let alone the chapter, was masterful. I don’t know how my face looked like, but I know my eyes were watery. Let me tell you, listening to Unravel acoustic was a massive mistake. It had me pouring. You can complain all you want about not wanting to end, but if it result to this pure quality, why fight it? This is what the fans truly deserved. Not exactly killing a beloved character, but the top level of writing that one would say, “It’s been 84 years.” I know it’s a joke, but I have to lighten up after this. The next chapter will be the last. By all means, end it. We are satisfied enough.

This chapter will go down as the best of the series; most likely the best I have read this year. It will likely to have the best ending in a long time. I am seriously considering to buy all volumes in one sweep. There’s no need to repeat on why this chapter is the best. You read it and you’ll know it. If only this was posted in a magazine; I will buy it in a heartbeat. Here’s to the final chapter. Takasugi won’t be here next time, but the soul will go on forever.

Rest in Peace, Takasugi.

[pitterpatterpot]

169 for the prompt thing if you want? With Aedion maybe?

Prompt 169. “You need to calm down.”

“Who, the fuck, changed the sentries positions?”

Every soldier, lieutenant and commander pauses, slowly eyeing the generals as they push their way through the crowd. It was simple; attack a rebellion group and take them down. Smother the last edges of resistance. What they hadn’t counted on were the Terrasen locals using their knowledge of the land to such an extent. The ice where the sentries and archers were supposed to be collapsed as soon as they started charging. A weak point they hadn’t noticed. That most of them hadn’t noticed. 

Aedion had. The seventeen-year-old male knows the land. Knows the tricks. Even if he somehow couldn’t be found on the field.

It’s that fact that makes head turn in the young male's direction, the blonde hunched by the fire with a pelt slung over his shoulders. He hunted the beast it came from himself, skinning it with frightening ease. 

And Ashryver smiles, slow and sure, when the general’s gaze meets him.

“I knew it was a crap decision.”

All air leaves the vicinity. Even Aedion’s companion, a dark-haired male and others, seem to shift away slightly. From the wrath of the general or Aedion is unsure.

“You seem to think so?” The general breathes the words, slowly walking towards Aedion. “Tell me why exactly.”

“You placed them where the ice would break,” an easy shrug accompanies the words. “I told them to move.”

Sucking in a quick breath, the general takes one step closer. “So you just decided to order my men for me.”

“Basically. Why, were you going to do it?”

The others are murmuring, some stepping away and other’s are moving closer. Even with the general looming over him Aedion makes no move to stand, his very disobedience a statement. It’s been clear from the beginning that he despised the general the king placed to watch him. To order him. Yet as soon as he arrived he caused no trouble to the extent that he made improvements within the training. 

But this.

This outright disrespect. 

It’s been made clear what he truly thinks of the general’s position.

“Why don’t you,” the general’s voice lowers into a growl, “stand up and face me like a fucking man?”

“A man? You’ve all seemed content on reminding me that I’m not human-“

There are strangled sounds as the general slams one foot down on Aedion’s hand. Everyone sees the pain flash across his face, yet that smirk, that devil's smile, remains fixed and firm. Never have they seen another look besides that and pure rage from the prince. Some have already said that he’s gone mad from the slaughtering of his family. That he smiles to serve the king because he has no other cause or purpose.

Killian and those closest to him know. They know the deceiver he is. They know he smiles because each time someone defends him Aedion is planning on how to stab them in the back and they have no idea.

These soldiers will follow him to their death and they aren’t even aware that is his only intention. Just a lieutenant and already gaining so much support. It’s no wonder the king has been asking for the prince.

“A little angry,” Aedion’s words his through his teeth, through that damning smile, “aren’t you?”

“You are a fucking bastard child that nobody could be bothered retrieving,” the general lowers closer to Aedion, the stench of his breath creating fog. “Your own family could have sent someone to save you but they didn’t, because they knew that in the end, you are no better than your whore of a mother. I suppose that the saying really is like mother like son. After all, what else are you good for?”

All breaths are held, eyes wide. A bastard child, a prince without a thrown that is not entirely human. In terms of Adarlan, a disgrace. One of the lowest social positions a person may be found in.

But Aedion is dangerous. He’s cut all of them down at least once. Prejudices may be forgotten if the person in question gains value to those despicable enough to spit on them. They forgot, among the strong stance and easy smile, what Aedion truly is in the eyes of the kingdom. 

And they’ve all been reminded.

“You,” Aedion raises both brows now, “are the worst kind of fucking idiot, you son of a bitch.”

Everyone flinches as the general lifts the heel of his boot and smashes it down on Aedion’s fingers. Now discomfort flickers across his face, genuine pain, as the general grinds his heal in, knowing that the fine bones have been smashed.

“Better to be the son of a bitch than to not know who I am the son of,” a cruel smile adorns the general’s face. “That’s the reason why your family never wanted you, yes? Why you were pawned off to a family too guilty to turn you away?”

Spit lands on the older man’s cheek, Aedion teeth shining brightly through his smile even as sweat beads along his brow. “Go get fucked by the devil you rotting dick.”

The heel is raised, positioned above the second knuckles, and brought down again. This time something akin to a growl slips from between Aedion’s lips, his eyes clenching closed before they fly back open. Blue and gold fire. That is what takes the place in those strange eyes, that’s what the colour becomes. 

“Get it splintered,” The general steps away, all others parting and starting to flee the scene. “Pull bullshit like this again and it’ll be your arm.”

Cocking his head to the side Aedion opens his mouth, ready to speak once again. But the looks from others stops him. Afraid. They are now genuinely afraid. Someone who they had started to see as a friend was just beaten by their general. Conflict in emotions can be a dangerous thing within the camp. By the time he looks away the general is gone.

“You need to calm down,” Kyllian growls, immediately inspecting Aedion’s hand and wincing at the damage. “You’re a lieutenant, you could have got away with it if you didn’t act like that.”

Those burning eyes turn towards him. “We killed our own people today. We’re covered in their blood. You want to tell me to be fucking calm then fine, but I’m not going to let that bastard get his own men killed on top of everything else.”

“I didn’t mean-“

“I know,” Aedion uses his unbroken hand to help himself stand, holding the other close to his chest. “I’m going to the healers.”

Nodding, Kyllian steps away. The Bane is slowly reforming, everything piecing together as more and more people begin to side with Aedion. Already he is becoming a fable that they tell at the fires, his skills celebrated.

But there will always be someone watching. It is too soon to assume he has the trust of the king. But one day he will, once he proves himself.

“Kyllian?”

The other male turns back around.

That fire is gone, only sad blue pools and liquid gold left. “Don’t tell me the body count.” 

___

These’s snippets are fun to write!

[apiratecalledav]

sooo how do you feel about the whole mad queen thing?

Well, like much in the last half of this series, the set up has been rushed and clumsy and occasionally ridiculous.

But given all the crap they have to deal with— time constraints plus two dozen other characters; quickly trying to connect dots that GRRM has been struggling to join for the better part of two decades; the fact that we live in an age where a staggering percentage of people have developed the inability to watch 30+ minutes of television without looking at their stupid phones and can barely follow the plot of of your average sitcom— I pity those poor bastards enough to cut them some slack on that front.

That aside, I’m happier with it than I thought I’d be. Because I don’t think she’s mad at all, at least not yet. She’s just broken and finally fed up with trying to control her ruthless side.

For a long time, I figured the show was going to wimp out and go about “dark D-ny” in the “safest” way possible: she’d spin out of control for an episode and a half at most then snap out of it in time to heroically sacrifice herself.

Hell, I almost expected HBO to pull “a Dexter” and forbid them from even killing her and she’d give up the throne and live out the rest of her days in a kind of self imposed exile, where her dragons could hunt freely, and JorMont (platonically) at her side to plant vegetables and cut firewood.

Somewhere between Tarly toast and “[Dragons] filled people with wonder and awe, and we locked them in here. They wasted away. They grew small. And we grew small as well. We weren’t extraordinary without them. We were just like everyone else…” (did you seriously forget WHY they had to be locked up, ya mumpsimus??) I thought they were going to have her simply go totally batshit. While certainly a ballsier endgame for their Feminist Icon™ than the tragic hero route, it would have still been disappointingly flat and boring.

Having her be more outraged and wounded than a blatantly raving loon is a pleasant surprise, and more nuanced than I was anticipating. Admittedly, that’s not saying much but still. EC’s acting has been very good, too.

D-ny’s been doing pretty sketchy things for years, but the audience has generally been able to justify it: “Those people were slavers/baby killers/rapists and they deserved it!” Then when we realize how much she’s messed up– like how some of those guys she crucified weren’t so bad after all and maybe there should have been a real trial or how Meereen is quickly getting flushed down the toilet– it’s still easy to explain it away with, “Her heart is in the right place; she’s just too rash” or “she’s just young and inexperienced/angry and afraid/merely venting.”

And then when she turns a nice, likable twenty-year-old and his father into s’mores, it starts getting more uncomfortable. “Um… she gave them a choice? I guess? Whatever! Plenty of other monarchs would do that!” But this is the first time where she is not the main focus in this type of scene. Her opponents aren’t just some one time guest stars; these are people we’ve seen many times and have been deliberately humanized. And she did it despite being advised not to. There’s no victorious music, no one to liberate or rescue from immediate danger. It’s harder to celebrate her actions and it requires getting more defensive.

It just generally leaves people saying, “She’s still better than Cersei!”

Yeah, we may know her side and potentially be biased towards her, but the characters don’t have that. As our favorite ex-smuggler once said, “When they see you, they don’t see a liberator, they see a stranger come to set their city on fire.” A stranger who appears to be a truly terrifying, well-armed conqueror with three destructive monsters that just killed a sweet boy and his dad in one of the cruelest ways possible. Even if you couldn’t manage to see the situation from the soldiers’ point of view, Tyrion’s expression alone was a huge red flag for anyone willing to see it.

For years, there have been flashing neon warning signs for anyone willing to see them. My parents and sister never read the books and they all have said they’ve been increasingly put off by her every season, only for her to “redeem herself” in heartwarming scenes with her friends or by swooping in to save the day.

Not only that, but we have even seen “reluctant king who hangs out with the Onion Knight + a beautiful woman who burns people alive” before and it was a fucking shitshow. A shitshow that bent over backwards to highlight that being burned alive is one of the most horrific ways to die.

The “problem” is that we know and understand D-ny very well, and possibly even love her, so it’s all too easy to make excuses for her.

To finally challenge the audience to reexamine who and what we’ve been cheering for all these years in a situation where we can not only still understand why she’d act like that, but also potentially want to rage with her because a lot of us loved Missandei, too, is pretty complex by the show’s current standards. No, she is not sadistic, but she’s long lost sight of the noble intentions that she claims to have.

If it was not glaringly obvious that something was wrong by the time she monologue’d about how “We weren’t extraordinary without [dragons],” then you either weren’t paying attention, ignored it, or tried to rationalize it because you care about her and know that she’s not Joffrey or Ramsay. Nevertheless, the fact that she somehow managed to forget or downplay that a man once brought her the charred bones of his poor baby girl is incredibly revealing— and disturbing.

Most of the characters do heinous things in this show, so that’s not what separates our likable characters from hated ones. It’s their intentions: Are they trying to survive? Protect other people? Do they genuinely believe they’re doing the right thing? Or are they doing it just because “it feels good”? D-ny flipping the fuck out on King’s Landing is purely because it would feel good.

I also have to admit I have this… almost schadenfreude… watching some of her stans try to explain all of this away. I’ve seen many of them rage at Jaime for years: “How can he possibly still make excuses for what his sister is?!” Jaime, who has known Cersei all of his life and has spent decades being mentally and physically fucked by her, is undoubtedly going to have issues. No matter how disappointing, frustrating, or obnoxiously obvious that the main motivation behind it is “make sure we give Lena something Good To Do,” there is a legitimate precedent for his blinders. We viewers, meanwhile, have spent roughly 12 hours with Queen D through about 7/8 years of her life and that was enough for many of us.

Absolutely fascinating what love and understanding can do to our perception, isn’t it?

[jonjost]

Steven Holl’s St Ignatius Chapel at Seattle University.

For a year, in 1960-61, I studied architecture at IIT, the transposed Bauhaus of Weimar Germany. Just a few years before I had arrived Mies van der Rohe had run the school, and it was in effect a monastery of modernist values, with Mies standing at the fore, like St Ignatius before the Jesuits.  Mies was a virtual religion, and his austere bare-bones internationalist style was the catechism, and student were inculcated in his values and style, and cranked out veritable clones of his architecture of the “International Style” which the corporate world had quickly found its own, and blighted cities around the globe with its severe boxes with ineptly done gridded curtain walls.  This straight-jacket naturally gave birth far later to the Baroque flamboyance of, say, Frank Gehry.

  I spent a year in school in this building, Crown Hall, on the Chicago IIT campus.  It was elegant, with terrazzo floors, glass top to bottom, and open space broken only with low partitions and a central utility shaft.  I could wander the entire school, seeing the models made by later classes and the graduate students: clones of Mies every one.  In less than a year I determined that architecture was a business and that I was not going to fit into it; nor did I wish to become a Mies stamp.

[I note that while Crown Hall is elegant, during the winters it was impossible to stand within 10 feet of the uninsulated glass walls, in the summer it was a natural over (at the time lacking air conditioning); the sun would glare off the terrazzo floors, and, well, Mies’ aesthetic classicism had little to do with living human matters – he did not himself chose to live in one of his glass box Chicago high-rises, but instead in a fusty brownstone abode.]

One of Mies’ dictums, paralleling that of other religions, was that “god is in the details.” While I dismissed the strictures of Miesienism almost immediately, attracted more to the flourishes of the heretic Corbusier, I did learn much at the Miesien altar. And one was surely, just where god resided.

The chapel at IIT, in which all things are reduced to open space boxes

In 1961, during a summer in Europe, I made a hitch-hiking visit to Corbusier’s Chapel in Ronchamp.  I’d seen pictures and was drawn moth-to-flame to it.  Arriving I was immediately disappointed in that it was surrounded by a scrim of tourist trap peddlers, religious and architectural, something none of the photos seem ever to show.  Even so the building itself was a marvel, an architectural sculpture sitting on a large hill-top meadow, pristine and quiet.

  It was, like Mies’ work, fully modernist, but infused with emotion, respectful of, if not believing in, the religious impulse which it was asked to express.

  Since then my eyes have cast a harsh eye on other architects, almost pathologically honing in on them-damned-details. Today, Oct 4 22019, I sit in Steven Holls’ much lauded little St Ignatius chapel here at the University of Seattle, a structure cited for its allegedly glowing color schemata, with veils of color-coordinated light gracing the walls, to presumably spiritual effect. To be utterly cynical I think I have seen big store hype machines deploy these things better, and certainly Holls’ deployment of color pales next to James Turrell, this place being at very best a very pallid matter.

James Turrell pieces

Structurally this chapel apes Romanic architecture with arching vaults overhead, and baffles blocking direct light in favor of reflected light, done in flat hues of blue and pink and soft oranges and green. Alleged to harmonize instead they simply fall flat, like super-lame modernist would-be stained-glass windows, the old originals of which surely these dollops of color were meant to echo. In keeping with the architectural failure here, likewise are the pieces of “religious art” similarly deadening. And why not: the makers simply don’t really believe this stuff – not Holls, not the sculptor or painter. At best they attempt to ape and genuflect to long dead beliefs, this arch, this wanna-dazzle touch of light; this wants-to-be solemn space which if anything celebrates the spiritual vacuum of the times.

Living in Europe quite a fair time, I became a self-described church-junkie – because, like Willy Sutton said regarding money, that is where the art (mostly) was. I do not and never did for a second share the beliefs which animated the raising of the innumerable cathedrals, churches, bishop’s palaces, convents and monasteries, and such, that I visited.  But while finding the background beliefs dubious at best, and abhorrent in actual human behaviors they produced, I had to admit that whoever made these things really believed what they were meant to convey. One can see it in the most sophisticated of sculpture and architectural structure and adornment, or in the most primitive. The finger prints of belief, however misguided, are unmistakable, tucked into Mies’ “details.”

Whereas here, they are utterly absent, and instead a belief in doing as little as necessary to produce the effect, so we get ridiculous scraped stucco wall coverings, kitschy lights hanging overhead, piss-poor door frames and all the other signs of don’t-really-give-a-fuck’ism under the guise of a smattering of religious seriousness.  After all, the Holls’ firm knew well what climate Seattle has and yet….. The religion here is bottom-line capitalism and it was willing to invest just enough to give the illusion of caring about this spiritual crap.   Well, not really quite enough.

For his secular religiousity, Turrell tends towards pomposity, as if to ape the grandeur of a great cathedral, while not bowing to its symbols; Holls bows unconvincingly and fails to catch himself before landing on his face.  Not that this seems to have disturbed the handful of architectural tourists who passed through, one a cluster of Asian folks accompanied by a serious looking, gesticulating professor.  Though it seemed these people were less than overwhelmed as they wandered in, glanced around and departed in a matter of minutes, their opinion expressed by their feet. However, the perfunctory modernism of Holls’ chapel does fit in perfectly with the mundane urban landscape around it at the University of Seattle – unremarkable, ugly, utilitarian, a training ground for students to learn to not care about anything.

    Seattle’s Alleged Jewel Steven Holl's St Ignatius Chapel at Seattle University. For a year, in 1960-61, I studied architecture at IIT, the transposed Bauhaus of Weimar Germany.

[deadlyessencewhispers]

Nano Update #5

kjdfal;djfakj Guys. Guys... Guys. I FINALLY CAUGHT UP. I am all caught up in nano, I’m ACTUALLY AHEAD. Holy... crap. 

PS Nano Participants, please feel free to tag me in your nano related stuff! I wanna share your progress, celebrate your successes and cheer you on!

Today was such a thrilling day to be working towards my nano goal. I wrote 3.2k words today. Thank you to @notanotherhour and @writings-of-a-narwhal and everyone who participated in word sprints with me. I just... I honestly can’t say how thrilled I am to have completed Nano today and caught up. And thank you @abalonetea for always cheering me on. And always reading the Wild Fig and just gushing over how much you love it. Honestly. That’s what’s kept me going so steadily.

@grittygambit | @writeblrs | @jess---writes

Honestly... the Wild Fig has gotten sooo good. I mean Shorts #12 through like #20 are just sooo good and I had no outline... and things got crazy. they went out of control. I couldn’t stop it. I just wrote things into existence and then regretted it, but it was the best thing ever. I really really love this series, and I REALLY hope that others do too. (You can read the free web-series version of the Wild Fig on my Website~ I will eventually post little comic snippets and poster-esque pictures of scenes!b 

Anyways, Here’s my favorite bits! (even though I skipped a whole potion of tidbits from where I was catching up... oh well).

-----

She held her breath, which came almost as naturally as breathing. This was the step of the journey where she truly worried if Yusef would make it out… there was no telling how long they would be stuck in the river – or if it would even spit them out on the outside of the cave like she hoped. If nothing else, she could try to drag his body out and let him cough the water from his chest.

----

. “Yusef?” Rhea asked, knowing full well that’s what Jerby was worried about, “He. He. Is bad. Lied. Broke my trust. He does not deserve us.”

Again, the Jerboa made a low sound.

“What? You can not … want me to… help him.”

Jerby nudged her hand.

“Don’t make me.”

Again.

“Jerby.”

Another low murmur.

---- (Warning the Below Tidbit mentions butchering of an animal)

Yusef was having a hard time watching, every so often he would start to gag, at the sound of her slicing through the flesh, or the meat that she pulled up with her bare fingers, or the bones she cracked and pulled out, and worse, handed to him.

--- (These TidBits are Okay Again. Although Rhea says mean things.)

“Please, let me help.” He offered as he stepped forward to take the salve and bandage.

“You have done enough. A wolf for … your life? No. Not fair. I should let you die.”

---

The ritual was something her parents had taught her. They explained it was important to complete because the animal had to be sacrificed. If humans did what they were supposed to – no other creature would have to die at their expense, but as such, the humans had to pay their respects, and if not, they would be haunted by the force of nature for the rest of their lives – they would constantly struggle.

We are a burden, they explained, and we must do our best not to be. Until we learn to surpass even ourselves, we must make amends.

--- (This one Mentions loss of parents.)

Out fell a book. She stared at the ashen cover, there were golden letters on it. As she opened it up, she looked inside the cover. A burning sensation filled her eyes, she swallowed hard. Warm tears streamed down her face. That was her parent’s handwriting.

[superiordragonlorde]

Deception

Hello hello again! This is for @fma-angst-week and their day 6- Deception. Warnings: vulgar language (sorry), guns, and implied death. I hope you all enjoy!

     Envy loved the power they possessed. Father had chosen a fine thing to gift them with. Sure, Lust had her extending, clawed fingers, Gluttony was part of a corrupted portal, Wrath was given superhuman reflexes, Greed flaunted his impenetrable armor, Pride held power over the shadows, and Sloth obtained strength beyond comprehension. But none of their powers quite matched up to Envy’s. With their unique talent and gift, the whole world was their playground, and every pathetic weakling of a human was their toy.

     A favorite of theirs was probably playing the role of Father Cornello. That stupid, haughty bastard had to be cut out of the picture, too many loose strings left uncut. And having Envy there, playing as him, boy was that a real treat. All of those useless humans, ripping into one another (quite literally, actually), screaming obscenities, killing left and right in a wild rage. It was like Christmas decided to come early this year. Or Hannukah. Or whatever it was humans celebrated. Heck, did it even matter, really? They’d all been so divided over whether “Father Cornello” was telling the truth that Envy, Lust, and Gluttony didn’t even have to lift a finger to start the bloodshed. As satisfying as it was, Envy couldn’t help feeling a slight bit of disappointment in the lack of action they were partaking in. Still, all of that was pretty fun. Especially getting a preview show on Gluttony getting a good meal out of Cornello. He sure seemed like an arrogant piece of shit.

     Speaking of which, that pipsqueak of a runt fit the description pretty well too, and he was the reason Envy even had to step in at all for Reole. It was a shame he made such a good candidate. Envy would’ve loved to watch the little brat writhe in their grasp as they slowly choked the life out of him. Or maybe crush his chest leisurely beneath their foot, hearing his pitiful screams grow quieter and more desperate as he ran out of air. Well, it didn’t much matter now since Father had said to keep him “alive”. Alive never meant “in one piece” though, and it wasn’t like the kid had all his limbs anyway, so what was the harm in beating him up every once in a while? It sure made Envy’s day at least.

     While the kid was an annoying pest at best, that shitty Colonel he was working for was a real nuisance. The idiot kept sticking his nose into things that it didn’t belong in, forcing them to be flexible and evade his insistent digging before he found something important and told people about it. Honestly, in Envy's opinion, the best way to stop a snitch was to kill them before they could snitch about it.  The problem though was that Father had said he had to be off limits too, which truly and completely sucked ass. That didn’t mean Envy couldn’t make him suffer in the most excruciating way possible. Second most excruciating at least. Envy still thought it’d be worse to track down the Lieutenant Colonel that always stuck around by his side and kill her instead, but that other guy would do fine, they guessed.

     And, Envy found, this human may be their new favorite toy.

     Apparently, this new idiot had gotten his hands on some pretty important information that was key to Father’s plans. One peep out of this guy and the whole thing could blow up in their faces. It was bad enough the pipsqueak was on their tales too, with that Colonel right behind him. It was decided that they’d have to kill two birds with one stone: silence the snoop and throw the Colonel a different bone to chew on. That was when Envy was called up from Reole to have a little fun outside of the mundane massacre.

     They found their toy standing in a phone booth, looking so desperate and frustrated. Envy had to silence their chuckles of glee as they shifted behind a tree only a few meters away. Wrath had given them a picture of the Second Lieutenant they were supposed to shift into. She was a typical human woman with a standard build and face. Nothing much to remember about except maybe her hair. As soon as Wrath had given them the picture they’d tossed it over their shoulder. Humans were so easy to fool they wouldn’t even have to get every detail right. Someone would tie two-and-two together and voila, problem solved.

     Envy crept out from behind their tree, fingering the pistol in their hands. It was a foreign object, they preferred to use their own hands and strength to take down enemies, but this Second Lieutenant wasn’t particularly strong and her main weapon of choice was a firearm. So, to make it more believable for all those gullible humans, a gun had to be used. They came up silently behind the nosey man, still snapping at the phone. Envy only let their presence be known by clicking the hammer into place on the pistol.

     “Sir, please.” Envy coated their voice into a smooth, feminine tone. “I’m going to have to ask you to step away from the receiver.” Wrath had also provided a recording for Envy to listen to. As annoying as it was, humans could identify each other better by the sound of their voice than their actual faces. So this one took longer than the photo, but Envy had a natural talent for this. It didn’t take long before they had her voice down to the last syllable.

     The Lieutenant Colonel slowly turned his head, stiffer than a board. His eyes were wide and wild, the look of a man who knew he’d have to fight for his life. Envy had to suppress the urge to laugh at the fear dripping from him.

     “You-” he whispered, hoarse. “You look just like...” A crazed grin cracked over his face and the wildness intensified in his eyes. “But you’re not, are you?”

     “Sir?” Envy faked the confusion, but the snide undertone couldn’t be kept out of their voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m Second Lieutenant Ross. I think you may have lost too much blood-”

     “Oh cut the crap already,” the Lieutenant Colonel growled. “Second Lieutenant Ross has a mole under her left eye.” Envy flinched, eyes snapping wide. Shit, did she? They guessed they could have taken a closer look at the picture, but honestly, this annoying human probably just had a keener eye compared to the rest of them. Didn’t Wrath say he worked in some kind of intelligence or something? Must come with the job. Well, since the gig was up, might as well have a little fun while they were at it.

     “Well, well, aren’t you an observant one.” Envy slipped back into the coarser tone they had, smirking. “I can’t believe I forgot all about it.” They tapped a finger to their cheek, the mole appearing in a flash of red lightning. “There, is that better?” The man gasped and turned back around, gently placing the phone on top of the receiver.

     “Please, tell me I’m hallucinating,” he begged to the empty air. “This can’t be happening. It’s impossible.” Envy chuckled, shifting their foot for a better stance, but something crinkled beneath it. They looked down, finding a black and white picture showcasing the Lieutenant Colonel, an adult woman, and a little girl. Oh, this just brought on a whole new level of fun.

     “You’re pretty smart for a human, Lieutenant Colonel,” Envy praised, already beginning to shift into a new form. “Have you ever considered that such a virtue would turn into your greatest demise?” The man gave a hollow chuckle.

     “Oh, come on. Don’t you have a heart?” he teased, fear still leaving him in a tantalizing reek. “I’ve got a wonderful wife and daughter waiting for me to get home. The last thing I could ever do to them is die.” With impressive speed, he whipped around, a throwing knife glinting in his hand, pulled back in an attempt to throw.

     Too bad humans were so easy to manipulate. Envy had him pinned right where they wanted them. If he did have a wife and kid, then they had picked the perfect form to copy.

     Envy stood in front of him, looking for every bit like the woman in the picture. Maybe the coloring wasn’t right for the eyes or the clothes, but it was close enough apparently, given the Lieutenant Colonel’s reaction.

     He was frozen, hesitating, and weak-willed. It was obvious that the woman standing before him wasn’t really his wife, but that strange, pathetic human mind couldn’t seem to shake him out of his stupor. He only stared at them. Envy laughed.

     “You should see the look on your face,” they smirked. “You look so surprised, it’s hilarious!” They couldn’t change their voice, they’d never heard this woman talk before. Surely that would have snapped him out of it and make him lash out, but he still didn’t. He was trembling, fighting a mental battle Envy would have loved to see happen in reality. It must be so much fun to watch, someone fighting themselves. His breaths were coming in stuttering gasps and the fear had grown into an atmosphere, filling up the entire phone booth.

     “Wh-what the hell are-?” The bang of a pistol firing silenced his question. He fell back, betrayal and surprise coming across his face in pained waves. Envy watched him collapse, making sure the woman’s face remained plastered there. Oh, Envy chuckled, that pitiful expression. They were going to savor that look for a long time.

Well, there’s that. Another retelling from a different character’s point of view. This prompt was a bit trickier for me because I couldn’t really think of anything that wouldn’t have already been done or was super cliche, so this was my knock-off version. Well, I hope you guys enjoyed it and thanks for reading it!

[multisportperformance]

For The Female Triathlete: Leaving Diet Culture Behind

At Multisport Performance Coaching, we work with athletes to become strong and fit to achieve high athletic performances year after year. Our worth as an athlete is not determined by the number on the scale or how we look in our tri suit. It is crucial that we consistently feel healthy, energized and strong. We understand the importance of nutrition in this sport, and we utilize food as fuel to set us up for success in both the short and long-run. We also believe that food is wholly meant to be enjoyed and celebrated, and this is how we approach nutrition, training and everyday life.

The beautiful thing about the sport of triathlon is that we have many tools within our reach to help us achieve our athletic goals, and food and nutrition are some of the greatest ones available. As a coach, I regularly communicate the importance of the quality, quantity and timing of nutrition to my athletes because of the critical role it plays in everyday training and its effect on race day performance. For many athletes, race day results are the top priority, and you cannot nail soley race nutrition if your daily nutrition leading into the event was not optimized as well.

There are times where I wish I could approach the topic of food/nutrition just as similarly as I do with hydration, power, heart rate, etc. This is not usually the case. Society has been inundated with “diet culture” messages for decades, and as we enter the holiday and new year season, these messages are about to come at us from every direction.

We are human and notice how we look (especially in our spandex gear that keeps us hydrodynamic and aerodynamic). For so many years, the media instilled in us (especially females) that our worth was in being “skinny”, and reinforced this notion by supplying us with unattainable, unrealistic, and photoshopped examples of what this looked like. Female athletes have also been marketed to that “thinness” is ideal, especially compared to our male counterparts. Thankfully nutritional science and more realistic approaches are becoming the norm in advertising and social media. Kudos to all the triathlon apparel companies showing us a much broader spectrum of female models in triathlon gear!

As a person who struggled with eating disorders throughout college and great fluctuations with my weight in my 20s, I feel like I can wholly relate to many of the issues that many of us face with our relationship with food/exercising. Focusing on my strength and athletic performance versus my size was the turning point in my relationship with food and my body, and this is also how I approach nutrition, training and racing with my athletes.

I often encourage athletes to focus on becoming strong (never obtaining “skinny”) through the training we do. If we lose too much weight and muscle as athletes, we set ourselves up for the negative responses such as: a drop in power output (which can negatively override the power to weight ratio), decreases in bone density and increased risk of injury/stress fractures, hormonal changes from Relative Energy Deficiency in Sports (RED-S, formerly referred to as the female triad), and not fueling/or recovering properly leaving us with lackluster performances.

A case study I often refer to is professional triathlete, Holly Lawrence, and her 2017 performance at the Ironman 70.3 World Championship in Chattanooga, Tennessee. A favorite to do really well at this event, she surprised the triathlon community at large when she DNF’ed (did not finish) and pulled out of the race less than halfway through the bike portion. She started the race several pounds lighter than her previous season the year before. She eventually elaborated on her performance and injuries on social media:

“It’s no secret I messed up in the lead up to World Champs this year [...] After racing so aggressively all early season (and a little bit too much) during my mid-season break I panicked and did way more than I was told to and should have. I picked up an injury- no surprise, and it hit me hard. The slow progress of my foot was scary, running out of time for 70.3 Worlds, unsure whether I'd have to withdraw and I was in a bad place. [...] I think it switched in something in my head  - If I lost a chunk of my body weight I would counter some of the fitness I'd lost and not hurt my foot. I've always been bigger than a lot of the female triathletes out there but it's never really bothered me or made me want to change, I just accepted it’s the way I am and especially in long distance being strong has paid off. After my injury hit and I wasn't running I started becoming stricter with my diet and was obviously getting leaner. But here is the crazy part. All of a sudden everyone (and I mean everyone!) was telling me how good I looked and how "fit" I looked. It honestly fueled me to keep going, I felt so crap about the injury and how my training was going it felt good. I have always prided myself on my smart approach to training, nutrition, recovery etc and coming from a science background (Bsc Sport Sci) something I've always been interested in and still am- so I am disappointed in myself for falling into this trap that so many athletes fall into. By the time I got to Worlds I felt like a total fraud- I wasn’t sure how much I could even run, my foot was semi-under control but totally unknown. The last couple months involved failing bike workouts, not only was I getting too precious about nailing bike workouts to compensate for not being able to run, but I wasn't fueling enough to hit my sessions properly because I focussed too much on body weight. Race day I had THE WORST swim of my life - I couldn't fake it, I'd lost my swim strength, the bike didn't get much better and I just didn't have anything. I was emotionally drained and didn't have the fight in me.”

Holly’s struggle is a reminder to us all that even the top athletes have to approach nutrition and body image just like we do, and being healthy rather than thin is critical to our goals and overall performance year after year. 

This holiday season, let’s leave this “diet culture” behind and embrace what individually works for each of us. MSP coaches are always here to have a conversation, determine your motivators, and help you achieve your goals.

-Tiffany Woods Multisport Performance Coaching USAT Level 1 CoachTraining Peaks Accredited, Level 1 AFAA Group Fit certified

[winchesterprincessbride]

The Contest-Part 31

To celebrate Supernatural’s 15th season, the producers have decided to hold a contest to cast an unknown in a recurring role as Sam’s rumored love interest.  They are doing open casting calls all over the country.  Your best friend Nikki wants to go and she drags you along.

A/N: My inspiration for Nikki is the one and only Red, AKA @oriona75.  So I am actually telling two stories here, Jared and Readers, and Sam and Gemini’s.  It flips back and forth, so try and keep up! :)

Characters: Jared Padalecki, Reader, Best friend Nikki(OC) Jensen Ackles, Misha Collins, Mark Sheppard, Mark Pellegrino, Rory Montgomery (OC), PA Emily (OC) Cliff, Other Supernatural cast and crew, Readers sister Karen (OC)

Master List

 Part 1 (all parts are linked)

Gemini’s POV

I can't believe I’m having this conversation.  Sam is being completely unreasonable, and Cas and Dean are totally backing him up.  Luckily I’ve got Mary on my side, and I’m not backing down on this one.

“What do you mean I 'm not going?” I ask through clenched teeth.

“You're pregnant, Gem. I think you should sit this one out.” Sam says reasonably.

“No.” I snap.  This whole conversation is pissing me off.  I feel great, aside from some morning sickness and sore boobs.  Lucifer has been quiet for the time being, and I want to go on a nice run-of-the-mill demon hunt and not think about all this “Mother of the Savior of the World” crap.

“Sam will be too busy worrying about you to be useful,” Dean says in his typically blunt way.

“Please guys, I need this. I can’t just sit around and think about everything, I’ll go crazy! I’m a good hunter, you know that!  We all know Rowena won’t let anything happen to this kid, it’s her meal ticket. I promise the minute it becomes unsafe for me to hunt, I’ll stop.”

Mary spoke up.  “Let her go.  Have Cas shadow her as a compromise if it makes you feel better, but let her go.”

“But...” Sam began to argue.

“When I came back and everything was new and strange, hunting was the only thing that was familiar, the only thing that still made sense.  You need to let her go, Sam.”

Reader’s POV

“Where was the accident? Where did they take her?” I asked my sister, slipping immediately into nurse mode.

“She was at the grocery store.  They are taking her to St. Mary’s.  You need to come, Y/N.  I don’t know anything about this medical stuff.” Karen said frantically.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, I’ll text you the details.  Keep me posted, Kar.” I immediately turned to Nikki.  “I need you to book me on the earliest flight home you can get, Nik! I gotta go talk to Bob!” Nikki nodded in understanding, trying not to cry. She adored my Mom.

I turned to Jared.  “My Mom was t-boned by a drunk driver.  They are airlifting her to the hospital I used to work at.  I’m not gonna be able to go to Gen’s wedding, Jared. I have to go home.”

I’ll come with you.” Jared immediately said. “I’ll skip the wedding.”

“No.  You need to be there for your kids.  You have to go. I understand.”

Misha spoke up.  “Why doesn’t Nikki go with Y/N? She can still fly.  That way you won’t be alone and Jared can go to the wedding.”

I think that’s a good solution, Jare.” Jensen agreed. “Let’s go talk to Bob and see if we can shoot Y/N’s stuff first and get her out of here.”

Late that afternoon, Nikki and I were on a plane back home to Philly.  My bag had already been packed for Austin so I was pretty good to go.  Nikki just ran back to the apartment for and took my dress back and grabbed a bag for herself and we were good to go.  

I knew Jared was disappointed I wouldn’t be at the wedding with him, but he understood that I needed to be with my mother.  He would have dropped everything and come with me, that's the kind of man he was, but he had responsibilities and I understood that.

Nik and I chatted on the plane, and I dozed briefly.  Between all the crap that had happened with Rory and now this, I was suddenly exhausted.  I woke just as they were coming around with dinner. 

“I ordered you the fish,” Nikki told me as she began to eat her chicken. I opened up the container, and as soon as the smell of it hit me, I began to gag. I immediately pushed it away.  “What’s wrong with you?” She asked.

“I’m not hungry.  Since I’m going right to the hospital, I’ll get something to eat there later.  Are you staying at my place or your Mom’s?” I asked.

“I was gonna stay with you if that’s okay.  Less chance of me running into Mindy there.  Do you mind?” I knew she was still furious at her sister for all the trouble she had caused.

“Not at all! Hopefully, we can get away without seeing her sorry ass at all if we’re lucky!” I stated emphatically, and she agreed.

Jared texted me that he and Jensen had finished shooting, and were on their way to the airport to catch their flight to Austin.

As soon as we landed, we picked up our rental car and headed for the hospital.  St. Mary’s was a trauma center and had a huge, sprawling campus. From my years there I knew my way around, and within a few minutes, we were on our way up to the ICU.

My sister completely broke down as soon as she saw me.  “Mom’s still in surgery!  It’s been hours. Can you find out what’s going on?”

I hugged her and promised to find out what I could.  Hospitals had always given Karen the heebie-jeebies when we were kids, so I knew she had to be freaking out inside.

Luckily I knew the charge nurse, who called into the OR for me.  They were just finishing up, and Mom was heading to Recovery.  She promised to come get me as soon as she was awake.

“Hey Nikki,” my sister said, still sniffling. “Thanks for coming with her.  Look at you, pregnant AND married? I never thought I’d see the day.  So where are those handsome men of yours?” She asked, looking around.

“Jared and Misha are attending the wedding of Jared’d ex-wife, Gen tomorrow,” I explained.

He’s going to his ex-wife’s wedding? Isn’t that a little odd?” She asked me.

Nikki and I both shook our heads.  “Nope.  Jared and Gen are still good friends.  They have three kids together.  I was supposed to go with him.”

Nik decided to head to my place to get our stuff unpacked and promised to come back with pizza from Bruno’s, which was my favorite.  “Call me if you have any news.” She said before departing.

Gemini’s  POV

Dean had got some intel that some locals had started disappearing about 2 hours south of the bunker, and all the signs pointed to demons.  Crowley was off doing who knows what and hadn’t responded to Dean’s calls or texts, so we had to go check it out.

Sam insisted Cas AND Mary come also just to be safe.  I thought he was being a little overprotective.  I was pregnant, for Pete’s sake, not terminally ill!  But no one was listening to me anymore so the three of us headed off in the Impala and Mary and Cas followed in Cas’ pimpmobile.

“You stick to her like glue, Cas!” Dean demanded as we assembled outside the abandoned building.

“What do you sense, Cas? Any humans?” I asked, ignoring Dean.

Cas concentrated a moment.  “One.  But we need to hurry.  She is barely alive.”

Sam came to stand directly in front of me and leaned down to press a soft kiss to my lips.  “Nothing risky, Gem.  Got it?” He told me.

“Enough, Sam.”  His mother snapped.

“Yeah, yeah.  I got it.” I mumbled darkly.

When we charged into the building, we found all the missing townspeople, tied to chairs.  They had been torn to bits.  I didn’t know if they had been killed as a sacrifice, or the demons just liked playing with their food.  Cas went right to a woman on the end, loosened her bonds, and poofed away with her.

That's when all hell broke loose. Within a minute we were up to our necks in demons.  I shot one and managed to wrestle a second to the ground while I exorcised it.  Mary and Dean were making short work of theirs.

But Sam was having trouble.  He towered over the small, wiry man he was fighting, but he was getting his ass kicked.  The guy was extremely strong for a demon.  When his eyes changed, they weren’t demon black as usual, but bright orange.  He grabbed Sam by the throat, and with one hand held him high in the air.  Where the hell was Cas?

“Dean, his eyes!” I yelled. “ Look at his eyes! They’re orange!” Then I began to feel strange, and that's when things start to get weird.

“No!” I screamed, and then my eyes turned an odd pearl gray shade.  I held my hand up towards the demon holding Sam and he immediately dropped him. He held his hands to his throat as smoke started to pour from his mouth.

“It will take more than that to kill me, Little Girl.” The orange-eyed demon choked out.

Cas poofed back in just in time to see the demon suck the smoke back in with a roar of anger.  I closed my eyes in concentration, twisted my hand, and the demon exploded in a flash of red smoke

“Gem!” I heard Sam yell, but I couldn’t respond as I fell to the floor, unconscious.  Sam ran to me.

“What the hell did she just do?” Dean asked while Mary and Cas looked on in shock.

Readers POV

By the time Nikki came back a while later with pizza and drinks from Bruno’s, my Mom had was in recovery and awake, and I had already gotten to see her.  I had also spoken to the lead surgeon who had operated on her.

“Your mother has a broken leg, which we put some screws in, a concussion, and a lacerated kidney.  She is very lucky, Y/N.  This could have been so much worse.” He spoke from experience.  “I can tell she’s a fighter.  She’ll be fine.”

Karen, Nikki, and I sat in the lounge waiting for Mom to be moved to her room. “You need to eat something, Y/N,” Nikki said, handing me a plate of pizza.

 As soon as the smell of it hit me, I grimaced and pushed it away. “I’m not hungry.”

Nikki gave me a look.  “Since when are you not hungry for Bruno’s?”

I jumped up when my phone rang and I saw it was Jared.

“Hey, Babe.  I’m finally home.”  He sounded exhausted.  “How is your mom?”

I blew out a breath. “She has a concussion and a broken leg that they put some screws in, and her kidney is messed up, but I spoke to the surgeon, and he thinks she’ll make a full recovery.”

“That’s good news.” He tried to hold back a yawn but didn’t succeed.

“You should go to bed, Jared.  You have a long day tomorrow.  I’m sorry I won’t be there with you.  Please give Gen a hug for me.  I love you.” I whispered into the phone.

“You’ve been up just as long as I have.” He said with a chuckle.

“Yeah but I don’t have to wrangle three kids tomorrow.”

Mom ended up being in the hospital for over a week.  I had spoken to Bob and Andrew, and they had been very generous in juggling the production schedule, but I needed to get back to work.

I was able to hire a live-in nurse to stay with my mom until she was fully recovered, to take the stress off my sister.

“Why can’t you just take care of me? You're a nurse!” My mother grumbled when I told her.

“Nikki and I have to get back to Vancouver, Mom. The show will fall behind schedule if I don’t get back. I promise to visit soon, okay?  Charlene is very nice and you're in great hands.  As soon as I have some time off I will be back to visit.”

“Fine.” Mom said unhappily.

“Do what Charlene says and you’ll be up and around in no time.  I love you.” I told her as I hugged her tightly.  We were heading back to Vancouver in the morning, and I couldn’t wait to see Jared.

We had packed our things for the trip home, and Nik had grabbed us some dinner after visiting family.  Mindy had made herself scarce during the time we were here, she knew Nikki was still incredibly pissed at her. 

Nik had gotten us cheesesteaks from Pat’s, and I dug in with enthusiasm.  I was a few bites in when I dropped my steak on the table, and bolted out of my chair, barely making it to the kitchen sink before I puked my guts out.

“Maybe I have the flu,” I said weakly.

“How late is your period, Y/N?” Nikki asked me out of the blue.

I looked at her like she was nuts.  “Why are you asking me that?”

She just shook her head.  “Because I spend a lot of time with you, and you should have had it by now. This whole trip you’ve been nauseous or gagging, and now you're throwing up? For a nurse your pretty clueless about your own body.”

The meaning of her words sunk in, and I just stared at her.  FUCK.

Gemini’s POV

I was unconscious for a long time.  When I woke up I was in Sam’s bed in the bunker.  “How did I get back here?” I asked weakly.

Sam looked exhausted and worried.  “You’ve been out of it since you exploded that demon. What was that, Gem? Was it Rowena?” Dean asked me.

“I have a theory....” Cas began.  I held up my hand.

“It wasn’t Rowena.  It was the baby.  He’s doing something to me.”

Part 32 (Sorry I can’t get the tag to work)

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