#abortion on demand without apology at any stage for any reason

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

What I will say is this: abortion is good and necessary but the fact so many of them are happening reveals a huge problem with irresponsible and sexually coercive men. And I think that gets buried in the discourse over whether women should even be allowed to have abortions. Personally I think the laws should be on mandating condom use for men. It wouldn't stop all sexual coercion resulting in pregnancy, but it might stop some. And it would be nice to see men squirm and whine about it, tears in their eyes, crying "my freedom! my body, my choice!"

[thisisarcanereverie]

Should’ve Known Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Wanda or Steve they are owned by Marvel, I don’t own the gif either I just got it from Pinterest,

WARNINGS:Angst, Swearing, the stages of grief, loss, dark themes, 18 + from here on out. Also mentions of potential abortions.

WORDS : 2,329

SUMMARY: You are detained and questioned by S.W.O.R.D. Wanda reality is breaking and Vision is acting differently than she remembers.  

In case you missed last chapter

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ULTIMATE MASTERLIST 

You stared at the plain and depressing wall in front of you. If anyone saw you they would say you were staring into dead space but that wasn’t true. 

Your thoughts were consumed of Wanda and the baby. 

You didn’t plan on giving up on Wanda, she had woken up, it wasn’t long until her reality came crashing down on her and you needed to be there for her. You needed to help her with the pieces that were going to be left behind. 

Your hand rested on top of your stomach, gently brushing a thumb over the shirt. You didn’t know what the doctors did to you while you were unconscious, but you were certain that eventually they would find out if they hadn’t already. You still had mixed feelings about this pregnancy. You knew deep down it was likely the only time you will be pregnant and you can’t lie, already you felt a connection with the child even though at this point they were only a little clump of cells. 

This kid would be special, you felt it oddly enough. You immediately wanted to apologize even though it couldn’t hear you. You wanted to apologize for the life that they might have to live if that were the case. 

You remembered all the somber nights at the Avengers Tower and Compound. All the nights Steve told you he sort of missed being that boy from Brooklyn who always picked a fight he couldn’t win. He told you if he had known what would happen when he accepted the role of Captain America. He probably still would have done it, but still live on to regret it. 

Wanda had told you that she could never truly let go, she can never fully release all the emotions she kept bottled up. That people got hurt. That if she could go back and never sign up for HYDRA’s experiments, she would.

None of them wanted the life that they were forced into. Yeah some of them had volunteered like Wanda and Steve, but they didn’t fully realize the consequences of such actions then. 

Nat and Bucky never wanted this life, never signed on for it. 

Your child would be forced to the same fate if you allowed the pregnancy. 

You considered aborting the fetus, maybe it was better for it to never live than be born into this world. 

Were you even ready to be a mom? You had money saved up but that was for rent and the last of Steve’s avenging money that he had left behind. 

Steve. 

The kid would never know their father. Steve would always be that blank figure to them. That blank figure would be filled with so many questions and doubts. Everything but him. 

You didn’t want your kid to look at that blank spot and only think of what might have been or hate. You didn’t want them to think their dad left them because they didn’t love them. 

You thought back to the chair splintering under your hand when you remembered the pregnancy. 

You could easily hurt them and the thought alone terrified you. 

There were so many reasons on why you shouldn’t keep it, how maybe it was better this way. 

On the other hand you wanted to keep it. 

You wanted to be a mom. Or at least give it a shot, at least for this kid. Maybe you would break the cycle of abuse that either your parents or grandparents started. 

There was no maybe about it. 

You would. 

You had to. 

Rationally you knew you wouldn’t be a perfect mom and the kid wouldn’t have that perfect life you always wanted, but that didn’t matter. This kid would have their own life to live, their own adventures, their own highs and falls. This kid would have something that you didn’t receive and that alone would make all the difference. 

They’ll have their mother.

-

-

-

Wanda didn’t know when all of this started. The endless pit of nothingness consumed her and that was it. She remembers everything thus far, the black and white changing into colors. You support her through it all just as you did before. 

She wished she didn’t have to send you away but she had no other choice. You brought her back, made her remember that none of this was real. 

Wanda made a different version of you, it was simple enough, it was a simple illusion. You were there, but not there. 

This version of you was happy all the time, was her closest confidant, all the things she wanted you to be. Like how you used to be before Steve had left. 

Steve did a number on you just like Vision did with her. Steve left you in a different manner than Vision left her but the emotional toll it took was very much the same. 

Steve left you on his own terms, he was selfish and left everyone who was counting on him to return. For that Wanda would never trust Steve, real or not real, again. 

Vision didn’t have a choice, Thanos had taken that choice away from him. 

Wanda could feel her blood begin to boil at the thought of Thanos, wishing that she could have finished what she had started on that battlefield then. 

Avenging Vision. 

Wanda recalls the nightmares she had when she came back, the image of Vision's eyes turning milky white and the stone being ripped from his head and the way his head caved in. You would always hold her, you would always assure her that you were fine and that she hadn’t hurt you during the nightmares. She knew you lied but the thought that you cared enough that you didn’t mind her or getting hurt in the process helped a lot more than you would ever know. 

After the funeral Wanda didn’t know she was going to bring you back to her apartment. She didn’t know how more precious you would become to her after living with her. Wanda came to depend on you a lot more than she intended. At first she wanted to be kind, she knew the pain you were going through and didn’t want you to be alone. You didn’t deserve to be alone. 

Then you began to heal together, you sat with her while she was on the other end of the phone lines waiting for answers and filling out paperwork she needed to sign to legally locate Vision. You hugged her during her nightmares, even though her powers had more than once flown something dangerously close to your head. 

Wanda had held your hand when she helped you move out of the apartment you and Steve shared. She was simply there when you needed her to be. 

Wanda grew curious easily, after the first few nights she was tempted to look into your mind. She had mastered the art of doing it without anyone knowing. However, she wanted you to tell her, she promised herself to never use her powers on your mind. 

Now she had broken that promise and made you play your part in this reality, the best friend. Wanda didn’t read your mind but she had played with it. She had played with something so fragile and even when you woke up from her illusions you didn’t care about that. You had only cared about comforting her, about bringing her back from the waves. 

Wanda had no idea what she could possibly have done to deserve someone as loyal as you were in her life. 

But now she’s sent you away, like she did with Garladine. 

She walked into her home that she shared with Vision, her heart filled with something so bitter and so sweet when she looked at him. Like she was seeing the sun after a whole week of only rain and snow but knowing tomorrow there would only be more rain and snow. 

Vision turned around upon hearing the door close, Wanda was expecting to see him with that light and lovely look in his eyes just as he’s always done. She nearly stopped in her tracks when she saw instead nervousness and caution. He didn’t look at her the way Vision had always looked at her, or hell even how you looked at her. 

He looked at her the way that everyone else has looked at her before. 

Like she was going to hurt him. 

“Vision,��� she called her voice as sweet as honey, “is everything alright.” Her husband flinched back when she tried to reach for him as though her touch had become poisonous. 

“I spoke to Norm,” He said his arms were crossed over his chest. His face contorted into a neutral state. Wanda felt unsettled, she felt him become reserved. 

“Oh?” she said not knowing what about talking to Norm would make him act this way. 

“I unearthed the man’s suppressed personality and I spoke to him free of your oversight.” 

-

-

-

“Hello Miss. (L/n),” You didn’t bother looking away from the wall, already whoever came in here was on your nerves. 

‘Miss. (L/n) we need you to answer some questions about the Hex.” You looked over and saw a man with the most punchable face you’ve ever laid eyes on. His tone may be nice but you met enough men like him to know how to spot them a mile away. 

“Only if you answer a few of my own.” You retort, you saw how the man stiffened. 

“I don’t think you're in a position to be demanding anything Miss. (L/n)” 

“You wouldn’t have come to ask me anything personally if you didn’t need to. Unless there was something that I may or may not know that could benefit you and even then you wouldn’t have come yourself, men like you have people get the answers for you, no you would only come yourself if it was something vital. Something that no one else on this base knows about.” You cock your head to the side and smile, feeling empowered as you see his hands tighten into a fit at his side. You apparently hit the nail right on the head. 

“So I feel like an exchange is in order,” You say standing up from your sitting position. The guards on either side of the man raised their guns at you. The man told them to stand down. 

“I answer 5 of your questions and you answer 6 of mine.” You held out your hand. 

“Miss. (L/n) why do you get to have more answers than I do?”

“Simple, you want something from me and me alone. I can ask any other agents around here my questions and not make a deal with you at all.” 

His hands flex and ball themselves back into fists and his jaw clenched in anger. You really were getting on his nerves. 

“I agree,” he reaches for your hand and shakes briefly. 

“I’ll go first,” he says. 

“How long were you in the Hex?”

“I’m not too sure of that but it’s safe to assume that I was there since it happened.” you responded, memories of the Hex were confusing and the memories of that day were blacked out almost completely. 

“My turn,” you say. 

“Who are you?” 

“I’m Director Tyler Hayward of S.W.O.R.D.” 

“My turn,” he says in a slight mocking tone.

“How did Wanda create the Hex?”

“Wanda’s powers are tied to her emotions; it's probably connected to that” You state. “What is S.W.O.R.D.” 

“Sentient Worlds Observation and Response Department.” He responds. 

“Someone really wanted your divisions to be named Sword and Shield really badly didn’t they.” 

“Yes,” he said, “How long were you aware of the Hex while in it?”

“I was subconsciously aware the entire time, although I wasn’t completely aware until the Hex was in color and a hag gave me a notebook.”

His expression was puzzled but he dismissed it. 

“What did my lab results come back with?” 

“Why do you think we took blood from you while you were unconscious?”

“You're a powerful man who set up a meeting with me in secret to ask me a question you don’t want anyone else hearing. It’s not beyond you to secretly steal some blood to run secret tests on it.” 

“Touche,” he admitted, “however badly I would want that Agent Rambeau interrupted me before I could give the order.” 

Finally he reached the last question, the question he wanted to ask all along. 

“How did Wanda reboot the Vision?” 

Vision, he was after Vision. Somehow this made you uneasy, why would he care how Vision for rebooted unless...

“You have Visions body don’t you.” It wasn’t a question, his body gave him away. For a man who was running a semi secret organization he wasn’t that good at hiding his body language. 

“I believe you didn’t answer my question Miss. (L/n), “ he pointed out, “I guess that means one less answer for you.”

You rolled your eyes, you would let him have that. 

“I don’t know how she rebooted Vision, much less without a body, I don’t remember much of the day it happened.” His eyes hardened, upset that he had hit another dead end he went to leave. 

“I still have one more question Haybitch!” You called out, his feet stilled and he turned to you, eyes wide and offended at the nickname. 

“What are you planning on doing to Wanda?” That was the question you wanted to ask. His eyes crinkled as he gave you a sarcastic smile. 

“I don’t know,” he said, “I don’t remember much of that meeting when it happened.”

He then left you to wallow in your own thoughts. 

You knew he had a secret he didn’t want anyone else finding out. 

You knew Wanda knew it. 

You knew he wasn’t going to let her talk. 

You knew whatever his plan was involved her not being able to speak again.

[sweeethinny]

The Third Time of Three

This was definitely what I expected the most! TW: Abortion

part 1 | part 2 | ao3

‘’Sorry’’ Ginny mumbled in the midst of sobs, lying in a fetal position on the bed while hugging her knees, feeling like scum, the worst of the species ‘‘Sorry’’ She could barely see a foot in front of her face

‘‘Please don’t say that’’ Harry was crying too, hugging her from behind and looking like he was about to pick her up to lull her like he did with his kids ‘‘Please Gin, don’t apologize’’

‘’I didn’t know .. I don’t-- ’’

‘’- I know my love, I know’’

Two days ago..

Harry and Ginny had decided to have another child, no matter how much James and Albus were being less argumentative with each other and the Weasleys had grown up considerably in the last few years, it seemed right.

And it felt right when he took his goddaughter Rose on his lap, or when they saw Ron braiding his daughter's hair, when Dominique climbed onto Harry's lap so she could makeup him, and when little Molly asked Ginny to teach her Flying. It felt right to try again.

Harry was no longer going on suicide missions and had become the Head of Aurors, which made his workload very short, and that Ginny was starting to think about retiring from the Harpies, since The Prophet offered a job as a journalist. James was at an important stage in his life and now he was beginning to enter a stage that he would be able to remember when he was older, and none of them wanted the boy's memories to be of his parents' absence. And Teddy was almost going to Hogwarts, which demanded even more attention.

But it seemed like a good time to try.

They tried - not that it was a horrible thing to do, honestly - and as much as it was sad when the test came back negative, they didn't give up.

Ginny had warned Gwenog this time, told her about the plans and that possibly she would not return after the third child, everything was going well.

Until she fell off the broom in the middle of the World Cup.

It had been chaos, from when the bludger hit her in the ribs and caused her body to be thrown away from the broom, until the time she fell on the floor unconscious, remembering nothing else.

Harry despaired, there was a frightening amount of blood on the floor and Ginny looked quite hurt even though he saw it from several feet up. For a few seconds, as he stared at her lying on the floor, he thought he had lost her. He thought that for some cruel reason, his children would be without their mother, they would lose the best person they had ever met.

But she moved, very little, but she moved, and he started breathing again.

In the next instant, Harry was in the Hospital, walking in the room where Ginny was, still unconscious and looking absurdly fragile. Molly had stayed with the boys, however much Teddy looked like he was about to break down and Albus seemed to lose his lungs with every step his grandparents took away from Harry. James was darkly silent, looking over his grandfather's shoulder towards his father, as if he expected Harry to disappear forever. He later blamed himself for leaving the boys that way, without even explaining that he would return.

When Ginny woke up, she barely remembered where she was or what had happened, the healers kept her under observation until they were sure that everything was fine, and that she would not have any fallout. And when Healer Swattye arrived with the papers in hand, they expected the worst, because no one would bring good news with that face;

‘‘I’m sorry Mrs. Potter, but you lost the baby’’

Ginny has been blaming herself ever since, crying endlessly since she knew, avoiding anyone but Harry, hiding inside the room and finding herself the worst of monsters.

''Albus is worried'' Harry said after her crying soothed, hugging her to his chest and stroking her red hair ''Let him in just to see that you're okay'' He asked, already imagining that his son could barely make it stop in place, anxious about the mother's silence since they returned from the Hospital

‘’What if he sniffs that I’m a bad mother? Children can feel’’ She murmured against his chest, her voice shaky and low. Harry had thought he had never felt so much pain in his life

‘’You’re not, Gin. You will never be .. You didn't know you were pregnant and the Bludger was really strong'' Harry repeated for what seemed like the tenth time, but he wouldn't stop until Ginny understood ''Let the boys come and see you, it'll be good'' The woman sighed, seeming to ponder, before nodding. ‘’I’ll call them’’

Harry knocked on Teddy's room, knowing that the three were there, as they had been since they had returned, sleeping together and holding each other as if they were going to be safer. ‘’Mom wants to see you’’ He said, taking Albus on his lap and waiting for Teddy and James to get up.

The second, had not yet expressed any reaction beyond the silence - deafening - and the few words he had spoken during breakfast today, commenting on not wanting to go to his grandparents' house.

Harry thought he was the one who was suffering the most from Gin's situation.

As soon as they opened the bedroom door, Ginny was sitting on the bed, still looking crying, but at least she smiled when Teddy and Albus ran to the bed, throwing themselves on the mattress and hugging her as if she had run away for decades. James continued to hug Harry's leg.

‘’Come on buddy, I’m going with you .. Mommy wants to see you too’’ Harry whispered, lowering himself to the son who looked like he was about to cry, his brown eyes shining towards his parents bed

‘’Doesn’t she love us anymore?’’ James also whispered, looking at his dad this time.

''Of course she does, she is just in pain… she is missing you'' Harry looked at Ginny, who faced the situation as if it were a horror movie, still being hugged by the other two boys, but still looking about to cry again with the reluctance of the other son ''Come on, let's go'' James moved, accompanying Harry to the bed and climbing with the impulse his father had given him, sitting next to Gin's waist, looking at her with curiosity.

''Mommy, are you okay?'' James asked, not taking his eyes off her eyes ''Daddy said you got hurt'' Ginny swallowed, her heart aching in her chest, wanting to pull the boy close but also wanting respect your moment.

‘’Mom will stay’’ She said hopefully

''I wish I came here to read to you, like you did when I fell, but Dad said I needed to be with Al .. I took care of him, Mom, I didn't fight'' James was still serious, but now his eyes were running tears. Gin was the same, and she couldn't take much longer, pulling him into the collective embrace, kissing the top of his head 

''Thank you dear, Teddy told me that you were very patient'' The godson nodded, smiling at James, lying on Gin's shoulder as if he were still small, while Albus was precisely lying with his head on her belly, as if wanted to hear what was inside. James lay on the other shoulder, within her embrace.

‘‘I was scared’’ James whispered in her ear ‘‘But I knew you were coming back’’.

[...]

Ginny managed to sleep that night, and the others too, even when Harry had to leave at dawn to help an Auror who was calling him, and Teddy came to lie with her, hugging her and barely keeping his eyes open for more than a minute before to go back to sleep (and she knew there was Harry's finger on it). She was recovering.

She went to see a healer a few days later and followed his orders about retiring entirely from Quidditch, in order to avoid more moments like that. Ginny could barely contain a few tears when Gwenog hugged her and thanked her for all the years they had worked together, and that she fully understood that it was time for her to go. Asking her to be kind in sports columns involving the Harpies.

And after a few months, after telling her mother what had happened and crying like a baby in her lap; she and Harry tried again.

The healer had said that maybe it would take time, her body was weakened and maybe it would be better for her to talk to the Muggle obstetrician and gynecologist who had delivered the baby and all the monitoring of James and Albus, just to clear conscience.

She and Harry listened carefully to the doctor, did the tests, and Ginny told about the loss of the baby and how it had affected her. Dr Iven, as always, had been calm and empathetic with her situation, reaffirming - even if she had not spoken - that she was not a bad mother for having lost her child and that this was more than she could have imagined.

‘’But now, we’re going to work for the next one to come, and to be healthy’’ He said, before prescribing some more routine tests.

In the first month, nothing happened. Not in the second, or in the third, or in the sixth ... Nothing. But then, after Teddy's 10th birthday (where he secretly asked for a little sister), a few weeks later, Ginny was in a much bigger spurt than usual, and she was sweating a lot, even if it was autumn.

At first she thought it was because working with Rita Skeeter was really stressful, but the woman had spent a week in Wales. Afterwards, she thought she might be entering menopause, but it was impossible, witches only entered after 100 years old. So Ginny took off all her clothes and put herself in front of a mirror, just because she had read this in one of the magazines that Dr Iven kept it at the clinic.

Her breasts were heavier, and her stomach seemed higher than normal, and her vaginal lips were darker, as indicated in the magazine that was due to blood flow in early pregnancy.

It didn't take long for her to put on her clothes and apparate near the Muggle pharmacy, buying several pregnancy tests and then returning home. It was late afternoon, Harry was in the yard helping Albus to plant whatever he had gotten from Neville, James was hanging out with Ron, Mione and Rose, and Teddy would only come tomorrow ... She could hardly stand her curiosity, but she held on until it was later and Harry could be on the side, just because Ginny would feel safer that way.

‘’I bought pregnancy tests’’ She commented as soon as her husband closed the door to their room after putting the two boys to sleep ‘‘I haven’t done any’’

‘’Do you think you are .. are you pregnant? Forget it, of course it does'' They both laughed ''Whatever the outcome, I'm here'' Harry said, and she nodded, running to the bathroom and lowering her pants, anxious to pee soon ''Not even with me you get naked so fast''

''I had three liters of water in the last two hours, I need to pee'' The two were silent while Ginny peed as much of the test as she could, placing them on top of the sink and barely being able to get up from the toilet, hiding her face in her hands and trying not to create too much expectation.

‘’I love you’’ Harry whispered, sitting across from her on the floor ‘‘So much’’

‘’Me too’’ Ginny looked at him, smiling and feeling her chest rumbling with each heartbeat ‘’ How long?’’

‘’One minute’’ He looked at the watch on his wrist ‘‘I think I might pass out at any time’’

‘‘Please don’t’’ Ginny laughed, taking a deep breath and looking at the test row. She wanted it so badly, wanted so much more opportunity ... one last time. Maybe if a girl came now, a little redhead - just this once ... Of course, she would love the baby with her whole life, regardless of sex.

‘’Three minutes’’ Harry spoke, but remained still, looking at her

‘’You take it, I can’t look’’ Ginny hid her face again, blood pounding in her ears .. She wanted it so badly…

''Ginny?'' Harry was trembling when she looked at him, he was looking at the row of tests and tears were falling from his eyes as if it were a running tap, a small smile formed, before giving way to a huge one ''We will be parents’’.

[epistolizer]

Hit & Run Commentary #134

Apparently Governor Cuomo is alright locking down New York under his own authority but flies off the handle over the prospect of President Trump considering a similar possibility. Does that mean that he is now a convert to the cause of states’ rights? Perhaps he can demonstrate his fidelity to the cause by endorsing Arizona’s efforts to protect its own borders.

Is it really socialist to accept the government economic relief check when it was the government that ordered the economy locked down and perhaps even crashed?

In light of the coronavirus crisis, apparently the slogan of the hour is “We are in this together.” It will no doubt be one of those things said as citizens have their wealth and possessions they’ve labored to accumulate over a lifetime confiscated in the attempt to cover financially crippling plague stimulus outlays. Could also be something the thousands left to die or actively euthanized are told to deemphasize the worth of individual lives in favor of the alleged survival of the species.

A declaration of emergency was promulgated in Champaign, Illinois detailing that, in light of the coronavirus, municipal authorities are allowed to seize foodstuffs held in private homes under certain circumstances. In a time of quarantine, the government might possess justification to curtail the movement of residents outside of their respective domiciles. However, if a government insists upon the power to violate the sanctity of your home for the purposes of confiscating without benefit of criminal conviction provisions acquired in compliance with the agreed upon norms of commerce in place at the time the goods and legal tender were exchanged, can such souls still be considered free people?

If Americans are obligated to refrain from extraneous travel during the era of plague for the sake of the COMMUNITY, was there really reason why Trump needed to turn the hospital ship sent off from Norfolk as relief to New York City into a staged media event? It’s not like the crew was not capable or unmotivated to set out without a spectacle being made of it.

In a sermon on racial reconciliation, a pastor begged for forgiveness on behalf of the church universal from those of a minority background that felt they have been judged, mistreated, or wounded by Christians that acted sinfully in regards to race either “willfully or implicitly”. In other words, you just aren't racist if you called someone a cruel name without provocation but rather also if you clutched your wallet a little tighter as a group of questionably adorned youth approached you on a dark street and even in circumstances where the minority was upset over nothing more than not feeling deferentially catered to. So does the pastor intend to articulate an apology on behalf of minorities claiming to be good church folk that looted property following unpopular trial verdicts or those claiming to be ministers of God that egged on such behavior from the pulpit?

It seems that Evangelicalism is mired in an anti-male perspective similar to that of the broader American culture. On the 2/2/19 episode of Generations Radio, a homeschool activist considered the issue do “Men Prefer Debt Free Virgins Without Tattoos Or Should They Prefer Repentant Sinners?” Before the presentation concluded, a full circle was completed with these sorts of problems once again blamed solely on the men. Many contemporary men might play an inordinate amount of video games. However, one cannot catch or spread sexually transmitted diseases like from someone that is not a virgin. So why is it then that these skanks without a lick of financial aptitude, substandard beauty, and dubious health are supposedly worthy of men that have abided by standards that they themselves have not lived up to either? Jesus might wash away sins. However, He usually leaves behind the microbes.

A pastor remarked in a sermon that from the commencement of the homily argued against the formulation of analytical arguments that the speaking of evil of authority figures has been rampant in America for the past twelve years. So what the pastor is insinuating is that no President prior to Obama was subject to scathing or salty criticism. But is it really speaking evil of those in authority to point out the evil that those in authority have done?

Bill O’Reilly published a book titled “Give Please A Chance.” Wonder if he tried the magic word in regards to the women other than his wife that he attempted to bed, a number not so willingly from the sound of it.

A $500 fine for failure to wear a plague mask is not about preventing disease but is instead a New World Order revenue scheme.

It was hinted at in an online sermon that, during a time of plague closures in which services are conducted online, members should be required text in that they logged on to view the service. It is a blessing if a church can post teaching online at this time. But if a church is tracking if you attend virtually, perhaps it is time to look for another church.

A pastor remarked that he is seeing people outside working when they need to be inside streaming services. But if the content is online to be viewed at leisure, who is to say the time which it is supposed to be viewed?

It is being claimed that with human movement restricted by the threat of violence inherent to any prospective law enforcement intervention, the environment is allegedly starting to improve. As evidence, it is claimed that dolphins have returned to the canals of Venice and the skies are supposedly clearer and less blurred by smog. Let’s see what good that will do when you find yourself confronted with the prospect of economic ruination, potential homelessness, and even starvation.

Is it that the coronavirus is the result of the Chinese eating bats in violation of Mosaic law or more that the bats are improperly prepared? Will there be as much outrage over duck being part of Chinese cuisine? Such waterfowl are just as verboten by the Old Testament. Would be interesting to hear a perspective on this from Maryland congregations that shuck oysters and steam crabs Or perhaps from a North Carolina congregation that shovels pork barbecue into their mouths. For none of these local delicacies measure up to Old Testament standards if those are the guidelines one insists upon abiding by.

So why is it safe to move about freely Friday at 5:00 PM but not safe to do so at Friday 3 PM?

Am not attending a worship service where a mask is required. I am not a female jihadist.

If the two ghetto counties of a state remain under lock down, what is to prevent residents of those from leaving their cellphones home and traveling to the liberated territories of the jurisdiction?

A government public service announcement warns viewers of the toxic substances that can be introduced into the body through vaping. Will there be similar forms of propaganda detailing how they will likely be injected with the same sorts of compounds as part of a coronavirus vaccine?

Regarding theme parks that will compel visitors to wear face masks. Will replacements be available should someone vomit on a ride or will the poor soul be forced to wear the same contaminated covering for the remainder of the visit?

New Yorkers will soon be allowed to gather in groups of ten or less provided they wear masks and socially distance. But if masks and space between individuals are sufficient measures to interdict the spread of the plague, why must the size of the throng be limited unless for purposes of psychological manipulation?

So do those that get jacked out of shape over Rush Limbaugh articulating the phrase “with talent on loan from God” intend to toss as much a fit over a radio host/podcaster calling himself “Charlemagne the God”?

In regards to churches that might require “reservations” to attend services once things begin to reopen, what assurances do we have that such a paper trail won’t be handed over to public health authorities as part of the contract tracing bureaucracy?

The nanny state fanatics demanding customers be denied access to the inside of fast food restaurants are the same ones that would toss you onto the sex offender registry for taking a leak alongside the road when these totalitarians cut off access to publicly available toilets.

It is being admonished that now that he’s gone on to Glory, the character flaws of Ravi Zacharias should be overlooked. But threatening to kill oneself over an alleged online affair and pressuring a woman your brother got pregnant to get an abortion is a bit more profound than whether he left the toilet seat up or might have flipped off someone that cut him off in traffic.

The Governor of Virginia insists it is wrong now just as it was wrong years ago to erect a statue of Robert E. Lee. Just as it was wrong then as it is now to have dressed in a Klan robe, Black face, and to have conveniently forgotten which one one was depicting.

In his enthusiastic denunciation of systemic or institutional racism, does G.W. Bush intend to surrender the portion of the family fortune claimed to have accumulated through his grandfather’s collaboration with Nazi Germany?

A number of politicians such as elected legislators and municipal executives are calling for the defunding of police departments. Does that include the Capitol Hill Police Department and assorted protective details?

By Frederick Meekins

[goddessofphilosophy]

The Opening of the National 9/11 Memorial & Museum was a success. Visitors flocked from all over the country. There were a lot of millenials who were admiring the exquisite works of art depicting the terrorist attack that robbed some lives, fifteen years ago. The New York Times didn't miss how Andréas empathized with the survivors. He even called Hyacinth on the stage and introduced her as the biggest influence in his life who made him a better person simply by loving him right. She was extremely delighted at his bold declaration of affection in front of an audience, it was the first time. She kissed his cheek and this was the photo in the headline of the newspaper the next day, in a special edition. Hyacinth has taken cared of their family's publicities by controlling the media. She was after all the Chief Operating Officer of The New York Times. This helped them maintain their social status and protect their secret. Any of her family members was never under the scrutiny of the public eye. And this is how they have managed to live peacefully in New York City. A few celebrities and politicians tarried to exhange pleasantries with them. Some are Hyacinth's clients when she was still a full-time attorney at the law firm, before she passed on the leadership position to Leah. There were also business partners of the Houghton Enterprise and Descartes Corporation. They were all glad the proceeds will be donated to charity. Druella, Astoria, and Amberleighn were too busy with Fashion Week and never had the luxury of time to take even just a glimpse of the artworks. Keeva dropped by on the fourth day, congratulated her parents and updated them about the whereabouts of their grandkids. Later that day, Annicka freshly arrived from the airport and brought Japanese goodies. The Descartes-Houghton couple had to excuse themselves and go home early in order for Annicka to rest. On their way back to the Descartes Mansion, Hyacinth received an e-mail from Andrei, her youngest son. Andrei Heinrich is currently finishing his degree in Psychology in Harvard University located in Cambridge, Massachussets. He is a bright kid, graduating this semester, after only three years. There was no need to hurry but he was so excited to take Masters and Doctorate degrees while practicing his profession. And she was way too supportive in acheiving his dreams. Andrei: Hey Mom! Thanks for arranging our accomodation at The Ritz Paris. You're the best! Our flight's tomorrow afternoon. I know you're too busy, don't surprise me at the airport. THAT IS UNNECESSARY. It's funny I don't miss Paris at all. How many years has it been since we left? And oh yeah, how was it being the curator at the 9/11 memorial museum? Haha! Just kidding! Tell pops I'm proud of him. Love you both. She read it silently and asked herself the same question: How many years has it been since they left? How many years had passed since he returned in their lives? How many years had gone since she sold that apartment full of Andrei's childhood memories? She never came back to Paris. She wants to forget what happened in Paris. Andi realized her change in demeanor, "Who was it?" She needed to repress her emotions, "Oh it's Andrei. He said he's proud of you," and smiled. "So is he coming to visit on Friday after his class?" "I don't think so," she responded leisurely. Before he can ask why, they were already home. Fortunately or unfortunately, she didn't have to explain ... yet. Annicka went straight to her room and reminded them to wake her up for dinner, "I've been missing family dinners for such a long time!" She had three hours to sleep. It was too early to retire but Hyacinth wasn't feeling well. She also went straight to bed after kicking off her shoes. She decided to send a reply to her son. Hyacinth: No worries, not coming at the airport, you spoiled brat! Never knew being a curator is so much fun! Are you sure you don't want to drop by and see the paintings for yourself? Enjoy your weekend at Paris! Call me when you get there. Missing you! We love you too! xx After checking her other notifications, she placed the phone in her bedside drawer. She was staring at the elegant ceiling when Andi laid beside her. The silence was defeaning yet comforting. He stretched his arm to cuddle and kissed her shoulder. Then he whispered, "Thank you." He wanted to say more. He wanted to say thank you for supporting him in this project, for understanding the nature of his work, for patiently waiting for him to come back home, for giving him another chance, and for giving him a wonderful family. Truthfully, the list is endless. "No, thank you," she responded fervently. "You were saying Andrei won't be able to come and visit, why?" "He's going to Paris this weekend," she stated, a little bit worried because Andrei is such a playboy. "Why is he going to Paris though?" "I honestly don't know but that's the trend nowadays: millenials exploring the world." "Alright. It's good he wants to see the world like you do. But who's he with?" "With his friends, I guess." "Where is he staying?" "At The Ritz, I've booked their rooms." "Doesn't he want to stay at your apartment there? Where he grew up?" That was it. She was done entertaining his questions. He didn't know she sold the property. She remembered the last night she was in Paris with a six-year old Andrei. Hyacinth loved Paris the most. She had countless happy memories of his father in its lovely streets. Nothing compared to the magnificence of Paris, not Madrid or Prague or Amsterdam or London. She loved the gothic churches and the legends behind their names. She loved the museum and the rich culture they hold dear. She loved the history of the courageous people inhabiting the city, how they fought for liberty. She used to love Paris more than anything in this world. And that love was tainted with misery when she returned with a baby inside her womb, fatherless. Andrei was frustrated they had to move, "Why are we going to New York City, Mommy?" She was restless, "To see your father." "But why can't he come here to see us?" She was taken back and stopped what she was doing. It was an innocent question from a little boy and she didn't know how to respond. "Come here," she instructed him. She hugged him tight and whispered, fighting back tears, "Because he can't." "But Mommy, he can't just be my father when it's convenient for him. So why did he abandon us? Why isn't he here with us? I have never seen him all my life. Is that how it works? He can leave and come back when he wants to? What if he leaves us again?" She was speechless. It was overwhelmingly heartbreaking to hear those words from her son. "Why don't you ask your son?" she snapped, walked away and slammed the door behind her. Andrèas was utterly shocked at her reaction. He tried to follow her but she was gone. She took her car with her but she forgot to bring her phone. Good thing she had spare shoes in her car. She went to the law firm and was greeted by one of the interns. She learned that Leah was still on a meeting so she decided to leave a note for her. Meet me at The Raines Law Room, it says. Urgent. While waiting for Leah, several men offered her drinks and struck a conversation. She was so used it: boys thinking she isn't married, without kids, still in college or recently joined the workforce. They were bewitched by her beauty. She politely turned down each one of them if they ask her to go somewhere else, "I can't, I'm waiting for somebody." After an hour, Leah finally arrived. "I have ten missed calls from Andi. What happened?" she asked, making it sound like Hyacinth did something wrong. "Stop accusing me of starting trouble in paradise for once," Hyacinth retorted. "Damn it, Cinth," she glared at her. "Just talk to him, okay? You are smarter than me, my goodness!" Hyacinth suddenly felt stupid she went to Leah but who else would she confide with? Of course, Andi knew all the possible places she might go to or all the people she would contact. They were both silent for a moment. Maybe she just needed time to think, Hyacinth thought. She requested for two glasses of white wine to the bartender and handed a glass to her friend, "Sometimes I wonder why I married him, despite his being away all the time." Leah sighed, she knew Hyacinth needed someone to listen, not comfort her or tell her what to do. "Sometimes I wonder if he's only doing those sweet gestures as an apology, to make up for all those years he was not around. Do you think he'd leave us again? Is he doing it on purpose? But why? It's just a matter of time, Leah. I better be prepared this time if one day he doesn't come back, right? All those years I asked myself if I failed to read the signs. I kept wondering what I did wrong. Am I not a good wife? "Sometimes I wonder if I made the right decision to take him back. I was fine in Paris with Andrei. I was damn fine on my own, without him. But my mother kept telling me how important family is. She's so traditional it's bothersome sometimes. I can't blame my mother though, after what he put me through, he was still the only person I loved so damn much. "Sometimes I wonder what if I aborted Andrei then? We won't have any reason to stay together. I can say to all our friends that our marriage failed. That we loved each other but it wasn't meant to be. That love was never enough and we couldn't make things work. That some things are meant to fail. And people like me can't have it all. "Sometimes I wonder if I should file a divorce. He would probably hire you as his lawyer. And Leah, remember this, that if you accept his demand, our friendship is over. I will take the law firm back. But then I see him with my siblings and my mother, how he respects them and think where would I get someone better than him?" It was not new to Leah that Hyacinth keeps on blabbing when she's so upset. Overthinking is her drug. She could practically finish a novel. "Are you done with your declamation piece? Here's your husband on the other line," she handed the phone to her. "Hello?" Silence. "Hello, love?" Silence. "Where are you?" She was both surprised and irritated he asked. "Love, please." No, she won't cry. "I can hear you breathing, please." She needed to stand her ground. "Talk to me, please." How does one stop the tears from falling, she thought. She did not want to say a word. She did not want him to know she was crying. "Just please come back home," he was pleading. And she did. She faintly smelled of alcohol but he didn't mind. "I prepared dinner, your favorite," he smiled sheepishly. She wanted to say she's sorry. She's sorry she can't forget the things she needed to forget when she kept forgetting where she put her glasses or her phone or her keys. She's sorry she's still afraid he'd leave them one day, for good. Also, she's sorry, no matter how trivial it is, that she doesn't know how to cook. But she didn't say a word and they both ate in awkward silence.

[mizukitantei]

Some more Bloodhound for your viewing pleasure ^u^

(psst: part 1 here)

.:(Ran):.

Ran talked at the little dog as she walked towards her home.

"I do hope Dad lets me keep you around," she said. "Although you might bother Goro when he's over..." Ran took on a thoughtful mien, and the puppy made a vague, semi-aborted noise. Ran smiled to herself.

"You need a name," she said decisively after a brief period of silence. The little pup made a noise and began to squirm in her arms. Ran tightened her grip and smiled down at the squirming pup.

.:(Shinichi):.

"I do hope Dad lets me keep you around," Ran said. Shinichi found himself hoping the same thing, since he couldn't get into his own home and people would mistake him for some stray if he just wandered the streets. "Although you might bother Goro when he's over..." Ran continued with a thoughtful look.

"I wouldn't-" Shinichi yelped, cutting himself off when he remembered that Ran couldn't understand him. Ran smiled to herself, slowing almost unnoticeably. She stopped abruptly.

"You need a name," she said as she came to a stop. Shinichi glanced up at her before he fully processed what she had said. He began to squirm in her arms, and forgot the technical language barrier.

"I don't need a name!" Shinichi shouted, though Ran heard it as a series of yips and growls. "I have a perfectly fine name Ran! It's me, Shinichi, your childhood friend, a detective!" Ran simply smiled down at him, and never had Shinichi felt so small and useless. He gave up on his struggle and slumped in Ran's grip with a sigh.

.:(Ran):.

As the small dog slumped in her grip after its brief moment of apparent panic, Ran kept considering the issue of a name. The puppy reminded her of Shinichi for some reason. She couldn't put her finger on it really. She began to speak her thoughts out loud, thinking that maybe talking through her thoughts would help her work through them easier.

"You do remind me of Shinichi," she addressed the pup, who looked up at her with soulful blue eyes. "But I won't name you after that mystery geek. That would be just weird." Ran chuckled to herself as the pup slumped further in her arms. "Although I think naming you after a mystery author might suit..." She trailed off, falling into silent contemplation before realizing she was standing in the middle of the street talking to a puppy. She began walking again, thankful that it was late enough at night that no one had seen that. Her cheeks flared red as she thought of Shinichi seeing her do something like that. "I've got it!" Ran said as she came to a stop in front of her house. "Conan, after Arthur Conan Doyle."

Ran began to walk into her house, only to narrowly avoid being plowed over by her father as he came barreling down the stairs.

.:(Shinichi):.

Ran dodged her father, who had come charging down the stairs and had tripped.

"What are you doing?" Ran yelped.

"It's a case!" Her father replied. "The first one in six months! Some rich guy's daughter was kidnapped, and a witness said it was a man in black." Shinichi perked up at that, and leapt out of Ran's arms as her father called a cab. Shinichi jumped into the taxi after Kogoro.

"Conan!" Ran yelled after him, and she slid into the taxi on the other side.

.:(still Shinichi, different scene):.

"What are you doing here!?" Kogoro yelled when he noticed Ran in the taxi. Ran gestured to Shinichi.

"He just jumped in! I was making sure he didn't get in trouble!" Ran gestured wildly as she shouted back at her father. Kogoro glared down at Shinichi with a growl.

Soon enough, they reached their destination and Shinichi leapt out of the taxi, narrowly avoiding Kogoro's grab at his neck. The rich client introduced himself, and the butler who witnessed the incident, then began to explain everything. When the butler explained that he had seen the kidnapper escape via the large pine tree, Shinichi wandered over to said tree, still vaguely listening to the conversation going on between Kogoro and the client.

"Conan!" Shinichi heard Ran call after him as she darted forward to scoop him up. A large Great Dane came charging out of the bushes with a snarl as Ran got close, startling her into falling backwards onto her rump. Shinichi superimposed himself between the larger dog and his childhood friend.

"Hey! Back off!" Shinichi growled at the larger dog, who paused at seeing a pup a third his size standing between him and the human, though he didn't back down until his owner snapped an order.

"Jumbo, down!" The Great Dane, Jumbo, obeyed instantly, slumping down with a huff. Shinichi relaxed, thankful that the man had intervened before things had gone any further. Jumbo eyed him curiously, before speaking.

"You're a brave one, pup," he said, in a voice like a distant thunderstorm. "Not many your size would stand between me and their human." Shinichi just dipped his head, thankful again for the fur hiding his blush. Jumbo let out another huff, this time sounding almost like he was laughing, and laid his head down on his paws.

Shinichi turned to catch up with the conversation going on behind him. Ran had apparently asked if Jumbo was always that loud toward strangers, and the rich client said that he was a great guard dog. Kogoro slipped into silent contemplation for a moment, before turning on the 'witness', the butler Aso, who was trying to sneak away quietly.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kogoro growled. "There are quite a few questionable points in what you've said. If the kidnapper came in near the pine tree, and escaped the same way, why didn't the dog bark?" Aso flinched back, and stuttered the beginnings of an explanation, but Kogoro steamrolled over him and continued. "In fact, that's not the only suspicious thing. You claim that a man in black kidnapped the girl, but I think the only man in black here tonight is you."

The rich client immediately began yelling at the poor butler, and Aso prostrated himself, apologizing furiously. When prompted, he told them that the kidnap victim was at a nearby hotel, but one of the maids came in at that moment with the phone. The phone was put on speaker, and Shinichi felt his hackles start to rise as he listened to the conversation. The poor little girl had been grabbed from the hotel by someone who was demanding a very high ransom. The girl was put on the line and told what she saw of her location in a tearful voice. Shinichi immediately bolted for the gate, and Jumbo followed after him.

A few feet from the gate, Shinichi tripped over his own paws and would have gone tumbling over himself had Jumbo not snatched his scruff.

"Easy there," Jumbo rumbled, placing Shinichi down. "I can admire your initiative, but how will you know where the young mistress is?" Shinichi sat back on his haunches, and huffed to himself.

"Well," he finally began, "there aren't many schools in this area, only about six or so, and of those only a couple will have a chimney nearby." Jumbo looked mildly impressed.

"Alright then pup. You lead the way. I can catch the scent of the young mistress when we get close enough." Shinichi bobbed his head in acknowledgement before taking off again, Jumbo hot on his heels.

At the fourth nearby school they checked, the first without anything industrial nearby, Jumbo suddenly took off towards the supply shed, barking furiously. Shinichi took off after him, but Ran had caught up to the pair and snatched Shinichi up, scolding him for taking off. Shinichi whined and squirmed in her arms, before he heard a sound coming from the shed. Ran obviously heard the sound too, as she stopped scolding him and turned to the shed, just in time to see Jumbo stumble out of the slightly open door with a yelp. Ran gently set Shinichi down, and went into the shed herself. Shinichi flinched when he heard the telltale sound of Ran using her karate, then poked his head into the storage shed when he was sure it was safe.

He saw Ran standing over the prone figure of a thug, her hands still clenched into fists. Behind her was a little girl, likely the kidnap victim, with tears running down her face. Jumbo shoved past Shinichi, making his way to the young girl, who clung to the large dog's neck, pressing her face into his fur and murmuring his name. Shinichi came more fully into the shed and was immediately picked up and fussed over by Ran.

.:(scene break):.

Kogoro picked up the ragtag group and they returned to the client's home, where the girl confessed to staging the fake kidnapping because her father was always too busy. The rich man then proclaimed that he would be taking a vacation with his daughter, then thanked Kogoro and said the cheque would be mailed soon. In the taxi on the way back to their home, Ran turned to her father and requested that she get to keep Shinichi. Shinichi grumbled a bit at the implication of being a pet, but gave Kogoro his best begging look anyways.

Kogoro proclaimed him a good luck charm and said yes.

[wonderfulchaos69-blog]

five stages of grief

Title: Grief Has Many Names Fandom: Servamp Characters: Kuro and his siblings (including Tsubaki), Sakuya, Koyuki, and Mahiru. Summary: Moving on takes time and patience, and some gentle nudging in the right direction. Warnings: Major Character Death, suicide mention, alcohol mention. Notes: I was going to have this up earlier, but something came up ;; My apologies for the delay and here’s the full-length story. Also, warning - it’s a long one. By the way, this was heavily inspired by P.S. I Love You, thanks to some devious minxes that put this idea in my head. (And kudos to anyone who recognizes the new contract item at the end.)

"Kuro, do the dishes," instructed Mahiru as he put their groceries away. He was soundly ignored as the person on the couch snuggled down deeper in the cover he was half-buried under. With a sigh, Mahiru repeated, "Do the dishes. I asked you before I left, what is this? Rebellion?"

The glow of a game console lit up Kuro's face as his eyes darted from left to right, playing instead of listening. "Yeah, yeah, wait until I get to a save point."

That was when Mahiru decided enough was enough and marched over, snatching the console and turning it off without even having to look. Testament to how often this occured, that he knew exactly where to find the off button. "Look, this is getting ridiculous. Ever since we moved out here! What is it that you don't like?"

Hunkering down in his blanket, Kuro mumbled, "Nothing," and made an aborted gesture to retrieve his game, but the dead serious look he found in Mahiru's eyes made him pause and reconsider that decision. It wasn't anything in particular he didn't like, but the change had been so sudden. Living together for years in the same place and then moving to a new area out of the blue, there had to have been a reason behind it. That reason, whatever it was, had not been shared with him. They had simply moved because Mahiru said they were moving. As two people under contract to one another, there was little say that Kuro had in the matter. Not that he had minded before, but there was something off about it this time.

Since he didn't want to tell any of that to Mahiru, he asked, "What about you? Why here?"

It could have been a clue, the way Mahiru glanced at the window with the slightest of unease, but that wasn't much of anything to go on. It could have meant many things - that he liked the street they were on, or there was someone he was closer to here. The possibilities were endless. In the end, Mahiru's reply was as lacking as Kuro's answer had been: "I just like it here. It's simple." Then, with a soft look on his face, he leaned over the couch and placed a kiss to Kuro's cheek. "Don't worry about it. We're in this together. Now, help me with the dishes."

Groaning, Kuro stretched out and brushed his blanket aside, and then dutifully slinked into the kitchen to do what was demanded of him. "Can't deal ... what a pain. You're a slave driver, Mahiru."

"Oh yeah?" Mahiru wondered aloud, returning to the groceries that needed to be put away. "Say that again to the person fixing your meals. I dare you." Threateningly, he waved a can of cat food. "Look, I even stocked up on your favorite."

With a paleness to his complexion that had nothing to do with being a vampire, Kuro hurried to the sink and began filling it with warm water. "I hate you sometimes."

"Sure, sure," Mahiru told him absently, a fold smile on his face, "and I was kidding about the cat food being for you. I was going to surprise you, but why wait? We're getting a cat!"

"... A what?" The dish in his hands clattered back into the sink, splashing soap suds down the front of the oversized shirt he was wearing. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope, it'll be good for you. To have something to look after while I'm at work," promised Mahiru. "So do your best, Kuro. I'm counting on you!"

--

Twin green eyes were looking at Kuro with a glossy sheen, as if the tiny thing in his arms wanted to cry as much as the rest of the mourners dressed in black. It was an unusual funeral, humans and vampires and an assortment of people that no sooner would be in the same room as they would rather die. A true mix and match of the people who had come and gone in Mahiru's life, and yet they had turned up to mourn his passing all the same.

Kuro wasn't sure what he was supposed to be feeling as he gazed upon the picture on display, smoke from incense curling around the frame. It was like looking at something that wasn't quite real, an illusion, a fabrication that couldn't possibly be the truth. The surreality of it had him disbelieving his eyes. Surely, that couldn't be Mahiru that had passed away. He would go back to their cozy little uptown apartment and snuggle together on the couch with a movie like always as they waited for sleep to come for them. The cat they had been raising for months would be nestled in-between them, soaking up their warmth, and they would be content. Warm, and happy, and no abrupt game overs for once.

He didn't remember how he got home, but he did remember pulling the blanket over him as he held the black kitten closer, the both of them curling around each other in their cat forms as he tried and tried to sleep. It wasn't a success, but the warmth was soothing the sting that had started to slowly prickle at his heart, a sting like tiny needles poking holes where the void was once filled.

Days began to blur. Often, he would pick up the phone and dial Mahiru's cellphone like he had done when his Eve was at work. It went to voicemail straight away and that was when he would hear the voice he had been missing, a bubbly, "Shirota Mahiru speaking! Keep it simple, okay? I'll get back to you soon!" By the end, before the beep, he would end the call and redial the number. Relishing in that one bit of Mahiru that hadn't been taken away.

He didn't go out anymore. Not for groceries or to visit with his siblings. He didn't keep the place clean either, refusing to touch anything that had to do with Mahiru. Memories of his Eve standing there in an apron and a feather duster still appallingly real that he could see it when he closed his eyes. He could almost hear him reprimand: "Kuro, why aren't these dishes done? You're slacking again!" It was by now a habit to lay about and refuse to do much more than ensure the cat was fed.

At least that was one thing he didn't have to worry about; Mahiru had made sure to provide food for the cat, months and months of it. He could be as lazy as he wanted, for as long as he wanted. He didn't have to eat, not really, and he couldn't even die if he should starve. The pros of being a vampires, some would call it. If only they could see, if only he could show them the way his mind was collapsing into a stormy desert that no longer had a place to seek refuge.

Sometimes he could hear the answering machine in the apartment record a message and he would listen with half an ear as his siblings told him that he needed to pick himself up and move on. Hollow words of condolences from those who had lost Eves, but hollow only in that they weren't the ones that had lost Mahiru. They could know of his pain, but they could not begin to imagine what he felt when the one light he had found had so quickly been snuffed out, like a candle flickering in the world's ever changing wind.

He would have continued on a path of self-destruction if there hadn't come a pounding at the door, someone demanding to be let in. Out of instinct, he hid under the blankets he had pooled around the television, encouraging the cat to hide with him. The sounds from the movie were, for a moment, all that could be heard. Then the jingle of keys and the lock being turned. An intruder letting themselves in, which immediately raised his hackles.

His switch from human to lion was easier these days; he was able to control the size, too, after days of practice with Mahiru at his side. He didn't let the reminder sway his concentration, more concerned about keeping the apartment intact despite wanting to guard it with everything he had. With a growl, he nudged the cat backwards with his snout and directed a well-placed hissed at the person who stood in the doorway, the door still wide open.

"Down, tiger. I come in peace," his guest assured, rubbing noticeably at his arms as he pretended to shiver. "Hey, mind if I shut the door already? It's cold outside. Who knows when it'll start snowing."

Changing back, Kuro slouched back down into his pile of blankets. "Oh, it's just you."

"I'm insulted," continued his guest, kicking the door shut before taking off his shoes out of courtesty. "Look, we need to talk."

"You're doing fine with that on your own," Kuro muttered as he picked up the remote and clicked through the channels to find something to watch. "Keep up the good work."

"It's about Mahiru," his guest insisted, coming to crouch by the blankets, "and you're going to want to hear this." There was a crinkle of paper as something was taken out of the other's pocket and then a snap as it was flourished. "Let's see, guess I'll just read it to you since even Mahiru doubts your abilities in that department. 'Dear Stupid Cat and my dearly beloved Sakuya' - no joke, he totally says this. Can you believe how much this guy loves me?"

Snatching the letter out of Sakuya's hands with a hissed, "Give me that," Kuro read what had actually been written:

Dear Kuro,

By now, I'm guessing Sakuya has shown you this letter in good faith and taken my words meant solely for him to heart. He is a much better person than you think he is, so please give him a chance and believe that what you're reading is real. This is from me. This is from Mahiru. If you don't believe me, I can keep it simple. How about I reveal one of your secrets?

No, that's not something I would do. Were you worried? No, I can prove I'm me in a much easier way. You see, in a few minutes there should be a delivery. Ask Sakuya to get the door and continue reading.

There was a knock at the door as predicted and Sakuya didn't have to be prompted to go get it, his back turned as he discussed what needed discussing with the person on the other side. It seemed too staged, too easy to trust in the contents within, but he kept reading with the hope that Mahiru had written the words.

Knowing Sakuya, he's probably read through this letter. You're fooling no one, buddy, I know you did. Ignore him, Kuro, don't let him get under your skin. Just trust me, ok? I thought long and hard on how I could make this easier on you. You know, this whole passing on thing. I didn't want to leave you earlier than either of us thought. You have to know that. But fate had other plans, so I'm writing this to tell you: Just because I'm gone doesn't mean the world ends.

You know what's coming next, don't you? This is my last command to you: go out and have fun, Kuro. It's your birthday today. Enjoy it. Because I enjoyed having you in my life. I'm glad you were born. 

Now get out there and show me how much fun it is to be alive!

Simply yours, Mahiru

P.S. I never told you, did I? Well, better late than never. I love you, Kuro, from the bottom of my heart. I hope I conveyed that through much more than words while I was with you. You were my special someone. Remember that. You were my someone.

On his return, Sakuya brought with him with a large white box. He opened it to reveal a cake inside, cut into the shape of a cat with blue icing and white whiskers. The words done in black read: To my someone, Happy Birthday! And taped to the other side of the box, the very top, was a smaller box with a bow on it. A present. Sakuya pried off the tape and then handed it over, looking disgruntled.

Kuro didn't pay it any mind, as Mahiru had advised, and teared apart the wrapping to get to the gift inside. He held up the belled collar and swallowed back the tears he could feel building behind his eyes. A replacement for the bell that had shattered as soon as Mahiru had breathed his last. The card at the bottom of the little box told him: You can keep your name, because you'll always be Kuro to me. It wasn't the same, and that wasn't how a contract worked, but he wouldn't give up the name Kuro for anyone in the world. Not anyone.

"Well," commented Sakuya dryly, "my duty is to make Mahiru happy. So whether you like it or not, we're going out to have fun."

Since it didn't look like he had much choice, Kuro left to get cleaned up. He could worry about cleaning the house later. Or maybe, if he was lucky, he could have Sakuya do that, too.

--

Their ideas of fun wildly differed, but Kuro appreciated the attempt. At least, he pretended to appreciate the attempt. His inner self was correcting him about how much he loathed the loud music and would have preferred to be anywhere but where they currently found themselves. An actual party was the last thing he needed when he would rather be sleeping, something that still eluded him like the clouds in the sky.

He didn't see the point in going out and having fun when there was no one to make it worthwhile, but if it was what Mahiru had wanted, he couldn't really say no. Not that Sakuya would have let him, but that wasn't the issue here. The real issue was that he had no idea what he was doing among people he hardly knew, lurking in the shadows while colored lights flashed and bodies pressed together for what constitued as dancing these days.

It didn't make sense to be here, but it would have felt more like defeat to leave; and losing to Sakuya wasn't something he wanted to do either. It was less of a pain to stay where he was and appreciate the effort of following through with what had been asked him - that last command. In a way, it meant more, because he didn't have to obey. He could turn around and walk right out of this club and nothing would be able to stop him, no contract to nullify his escape.

Still, if there was one thing that Mahiru had taught him, it was that running away wasn't always the answer. He needed to face things head on. Easier said than done, but he hadn't left yet and that had to count for something. Doubly so, when he knew Sakuya had chosen a place he would have disliked the most as the beginning point for their night out. As if planning to test his resolve to stand with Mahiru, as if there would be anything to doubt. It had been a long time since he had been free, but it didn't feel that way. Instead, it felt more and more like shackles tying him down.

He could even imagine the way Mahiru would have reacted to this sort of scene, taking him by the hand and leading him out to the dance floor. Mahiru would have called him a wimp for hiding away and insist that to make up for it he would have to be the best dance partner he could ask for this evening. In the end, Kuro would comply and literally sweep his Eve off his feet, because having a few surprises in store never failed to impress. Mahiru would laugh and they would kiss; it would be the perfect set-up and he would later thank Sakuya for making the whole thing possible.

When he caught his eyes roving the room, seeking his wayward Eve, he put a stop to it and pushed off from the wall to go get a drink from the bar. It made sense that if he couldn't forget, he might as well force himself to forget. For one night, to stop feeling the presence of the one he had lost everywhere around him. A daydream that ended when he was refused the alcohol that Mahiru would usually be the one to supply him with, on the rare occasion they had a drink together.

From behind, he felt someone lean against his back. Back to back with someone that should have been a complete stranger, but they weren't. It was someone he was all too familiar with, as he said: "Get off, Sakuya."

"I'd like to," admitted Sakuya, "but your mopey face is making that next to impossible. Loosen up! You act like you're the only person that lost someone. How arrogant do you have to be before I can punch you in your stupid good-looking face?"

In askance, Kuro asked, "You think I'm good-looking?"

"I hate your guts, but I'm not blind." Straightening up, Sakuya took a step away and then placed both hands on Kuro's shoulders to force him to turn around. "Look, I get it. It's not easy. You lost someone super ultra extra special to you. But you know what? Mahiru was my best friend, and you have to be stupid not to see how much it hurts that I have to keep being that to him, even when he's gone and I want to do nothing more than to forget everything! To forget you! Do you think I like being your chaperone? Yeah, right! I enjoy it about as much as I'd enjoy a hole in my head," he added that last part happily, with a smile, and insisted, "I'm not letting you leave until you at least dance with someone. Anyone!"

"Then dance with me," instructed Kuro, "since you make it seem impossible to do otherwise."

"... Uh, that wasn't what I meant." Taking his hands off Kuro with a hasty back-step, Sakuya explained, "You can dance with anyone that isn't me."

"What?" pressed Kuro. "Can't dance?"

Miffed, Sakuya fixed the tie he had donned especially for the outing. "Can't dance, me? Not funny. Let's see what you can do, kitty cat."

--

With achy feet and a headache to match any hangover, Kuro woke up in time to see the sun setting again. After finally getting some long awaited sleep, it didn't surprise him that he had wasted a complete day in the throes of Morpheus' hold. He didn't recall any of his dreams, but he knew that Mahiru had been in them, a warm but empty hole in his heart accompanying him as he started to grasp that he was back in reality and more alone than ever.

That lonely illusion was shattered as he realized someone was laying over his legs, snoring away, and he couldn’t mistake that color of hair anywhere. "What are you still doing here?" demanded Kuro, half-kicking the other vampire off the couch where they had crashed for the night. "Get lost already. I thought you didn't like being a chaperone."

"Ugh, do you have no consideration for others?" Sakuya bemoaned as he got up and tried, in vain, to fix his hair. "Well, the only reason I'm 'still here' as you so kindly chose to acknowledge. Thanks, by the way, I just love adding bruises to the collection - well, the only reason is that I have another letter from Mahiru." He scrambled about under the vest he was wearing until he found what he was looking for: the next letter.

Kuro didn't wait for it to be held out to him, snatching it without any regard. Another one, another missing piece to Mahiru. It was cruel, in a way, for Mahiru to keep teasing him like this, but that didn't stop him from tearing into the envelope and devouring the words inside with little to no hesitation.

Hey,

Don't forget there's a bottle of painkillers in the bathroom. Knowing Sakuya, he took you to the loudest place he could find and you're going to need them.

You probably didn't expect another one these, did you? Well, there's a lot of them left. I might be gone, Kuro, but you're not getting rid of me that easily. There's some things I need to make clear to you before I can move on. Before you can move on, too. I hope you'll trust me and hear me out, okay? That's all I expect, really, for you to just read these letters until the end.

Kuro, I don't have any more commands for you. That really was the last one, that command to go have fun. Did you have fun? I hope you did. Sakuya knows how to have a good time. I wish I had let him take me out more often. If it hadn't meant leaving you behind, I would have. 

You see, I cared more about making you happy and maybe that was my mistake, but you know what? I don't regret any of it, because the memories I have with you outweigh all of that.

I do have something to ask of you. Like I said, no more commands. I just want to ask you: make lots of memories with Sakuya for me, would you? That would make me happy, to know that the two of you are getting along. Think you can do it? I'm counting on you.

Simply yours, Mahiru

P.S. Tell Kuroi that I miss her, too. Give her lots of pets and kisses from me! Don't forget, she has a vet appointment coming up. Maybe you should get checked out, too, while you're there? ... I think Sakuya may have invaded my sense of humor. Blame him.

With eyes of utmost judgement, Kuro stared hard at his guest, willing him to just leave and make life easier for them both. Instead, Sakuya sighed, "Oh, don't give me that. Let me guess, Mahiru wants us to be best buddies? Doesn't surprise me. Now, come along, kitty cat. You've got an actual cat to be taking care of -" he pointed to the kitten, her ears laid back as she observed the situation with a nervousness about her frame, and told him, "- I think she's waiting to be fed."

He couldn't argue with that, and grudgingly, Kuro got up to take care of the one memento he had left of Mahiru. The jingle at his wrist reminded him that he had one more now, though. A collar that would be too small for his neck, but which fit snugly at his wrist. It wasn't the same, nothing would ever be the same as the bell that had made up their original contract, but it was still a lasting gift he had from Mahiru.

Unfortunately, unlike a contract item, he would have to take great care of it too. It could break, tarnish, and fall apart with age; too human in its essence. He would have to care for the bell, like the cat, in Mahiru's place. And it was better than nothing.

--

After the vet appointment, that Sakuya had tagged along for out of morbid curiosity (to see, as he put it, if Kuro would get 'checked out'), they headed back to the apartment. The place wasn't as empty as they had first left it, however. A young child-like person was lifting up trash with the most disgusted expression upon his face. Gloves on his hands and trash bag at the ready. "My gods, man, what has become of your home?"

"That's my business," corrected Kuro, snatching the trash bag and handing it to Sakuya. "And my new roommate’s business, too. Hey, clean up the place while I make our guest comfortable."

"You're joking, right?" Sakuya asked, eyebrows twitching in a wickedly condemning smile. "You want to die, right? I can kill you, yeah?"

Ignoring the death threats, Kuro moved to the kitchen and set down the carrier he had used to transport Kuroi in. He let her out and then went to put the kettle on the stove, commenting off-handedly, "I'll make some tea, I guess. You want some too, Sakuya?"

"Die," encouraged Sakuya, and he promptly tossed the trash bag aside. "What are you doing here, Pride?"

Addressed at last, the tiny child puffed up, cheery a could be as he brought out a letter he had tucked away in the pockets of his fancy little suit. "Ah, thank you for reminding me, good fellow. You see, I have something that I think both of you will appreciate. It was left in my care by the late -"

It didn't take much more explanation and Sakuya was the one who made it to the letter first, Kuro reading over his shoulder:

Sakuya, Kuro,

How are you? Did the appointment go as well as I hope? Make sure Kuroi stays that way, promise me. Make sure she remains that strong, proud, healthy kitty that I remember and love. Oh, and you too, Kuro.

You might be wondering why I sent this letter with Hugh, but that's a simple answer. He volunteered. He thought it was romantic, you see, this idea that I had. Don't condemn him for helping me. Actually, you should be on bended knee thanking him. Without him, I don't think I would have had the courage to keep up these letters. He kept me going when things got dark. For your sake, Kuro, and by extension ... you too, Sakuya.

This letter isn't about anything in particular. I just have a message and that's it.

You see, the next letter is going to be delivered by ... someone you might least expect, and I wanted to prepare you for it. That's your warning. Be prepared!

Simply yours, Mahiru

P.S. The kettle's boiling, Kuro! Go make that tea you promised. And listen to some of Hugh's stories. You won't believe some of things he's told me.

Rushing to do just that, Kuro made tea for three and sat down to listen to Hugh go on about his Subclass and their misadventures in dating. It was the last thing he wanted to be doing, but he did find himself laughing quietly at some parts. Imagining, as imagination was wont to do, what Mahiru's reaction had been to some of these tales. His presence still lingered, like a ghost, in his mind; and he wanted to be haunted forever.

--

When the fourth letter came, its' carrier was not what he had expected and he was quick to shut the door in the person's face. Rubbing sleepily at his eyes, Kuro had trouble believing that he wasn't dreaming. He hadn't seen Tsubaki in ages and to have him here now, at his front door no less, that had to be something out of a dream gone wrong.

"That was mean, big brother!" It was followed up by a stream of laughter that was cut off on a world-weary sigh. "Sakuya is there, isn't he? I'm here to see my dear Subclass, let me in."

That made more sense and Kuro could allow that one. The place was less of a mess, too, so he didn't feel that much embarrassment from letting his littlest brother in to have a look. He did draw the line at Tsubaki touching picture frames and cooing over how cute he looked alongside Mahiru. He walked right up to the pictures in question and slammed them down, cracking the glass in the process. It meant he would have to replace them later, but it felt too much like an invasion of privacy to not to hide them.

"What are you doing here, Tsubaki?" Though he continued before his little brother could comment, adding, "Besides visiting Sakuya, because we both know that's not the only reason."

"Correct!" cheered Tsubaki, clapping until the long sleeve on his right got in the way. "Well, you probably guessed it already, but here!" The expected letter fell out of the long sleeve, a red flower pinned to the front. "You had such a feisty Eve, you know? He wouldn't take no for an answer. So here I am." Looking around, the man spotted what he had come in search of, lighting up with a thrilled crow of, "Sakuya!"

Cursing, since he had been trying to hide, Sakuya attempted a quick escape. "Oh, not you again!" His attempt was foiled as Kuro stretched out his leg and tripped him up, which escalated the cursing into three different languages. "You are dead meat, cat! Stir fry, we're havng stir fry for dinner tonight!"

"You're so funny, Sakuya," giggled Tsubaki, helping his Subclass up and giving him a hug. "You look well. Here I thought you'd be a mess with your favorite person gone. But look at you two, getting along like old friends. I'm so proud. Ahhh, kids these days. They grow up so fast."

While Tsubaki and Sakuya caught up on each other's lives, one more willing than the other, Kuro took the letter into the next room and read the contents inside.

To my someone, tomy  Kuro,

I bet Tsubaki has taken Sakuya off your hands for a bit, so I can ensure this letter reaches you and you alone.

Do you remember where we first met? Ah, that's a stupid question. Of course you do.

Well, I want you to go there. I want you to go back to where we met.

And I want you to find something new. You'll know what that something is when you find it.

Simply yours, Mahiru

P.S. Go save Sakuya, I think he might need your help.

The end of the letter was punctuated by Sakuya screaming, "Let go already, hug's over!" That was no doubt his cue to go to the rescue. But if he took his time, who was going to scold him really?

--

Going back to where he had first met Mahiru was harder than he had thought it was going to be. Each step toward that alley made him painfully aware that he wouldn't find Mahiru there to take him home again. It was also dark, unlike that first meeting where they had made at dusk, as the sun had begun its slow descent on the horizon. There were nothing but stars out and a half moon to guide the way. It made everything quieter, muzzling the night life as he stepped into the abandoned alley.

There was a door open in the alley, to some shop or other, and he could hear an argument from inside. The owner of the place was getting angry with one of his employees, but the sounds of it. Something about daydreaming on the job. Understandable, when the employee was probably underpaid and overqualified for the position.

After being forced out on a break, the employee stepped out of the door and Kuro stopped in his tracks from where he had had been mendering down the alley. Though older, he would recognize one of Mahiru's friends anywhere. From their scent alone - and the fact that the man in question still had the same soft features and gently framed face by brown hair that curled around his ears just like his honest smile upon his lips.

"Woah! Is that you, Kuro? I mean, I know Mahiru said we would meet today, but I wasn't expecting - ah, hey! Where are you going?"

The answer to that was simply: anywhere but here. He couldn't believe Mahiru had thought this would be a good idea, that this would be okay after losing the one person that had saved him in so many ways. This was the one way in which he didn't want to be saved. He didn't want to move on and find a new Eve. Even less did he want one that would remind him so strongly of the one he had lost.

Not paying attention to where he was going, he ran into someone else. Without stopping to apologize, he went to swerve around them and hurry along. To get away. The person who he had bumped into wasn't having that and grabbed him harshly by the arm, halting his progress before it could properly begin. "What's the rush?" demanded that smooth voice he was coming to loathe with every passing day. "You too much of a coward to even exchange some small talk with an old friend?"

Growling, Kuro told the person, "Remove your hand or I will remove it for you. This is not for you to decide, Sakuya."

Holding up his hands in a peaceful gesture, Sakuya shrugged. "Yeah, yeah. Not me. That's your business. But hey, think about why Mahiru set you up like this before you really jump off the deep end, 'kay? Because, as you might have forgotten, there's no longer anyone around who can control you and your ultra moodiness. Just saying!"

That said, Sakuya skipped off down the alleyway and Kuro could already picture him slinging an arm around Koyuki and exclaiming, "My, it's been ages! Care to grab a bite with me?" It nearly made him turn around and put an end to that charade, but he couldn't fault Sakuya for being less of a coward than he was and that was what kept him walking away instead of turning around.

--

It was a hot, coiling feeling that had stirred in his chest and that made him restless for the entire evening that followed. He wanted to sleep and welcome the dreams that had him chasing after Mahiru's ever departing form, but it was getting harder and harder to separate one thing from another and he was tired. Too tired. He didn't want to think, let alone dream anymore. He wanted -

The smell of ramen wafted through the air and he was surprised to find that he was no longer as alone as he was despairing over. The window was open, the culprit in his and Mahiru's kitchen and making use of everything in it. The woman had tied up her long hair and looked quite nice in the plain black apron that Kuro had always used when Mahiru asked him to help with dinner. At least she hadn't touched the one that he had hung up in the closet or he wouldn't have been able to forgive the trespassing. As it was, he was content to appreciate the meal being made for him as he hopped up on the counter, asking, "When did you get here, Wrath?"

"Hello to you too, brother," she called half-heartedly, pushing an envelope in his direction. "I heard tonight didn't go well, so I came to deliver mine early."

"Huh," was his answer as he plied open the envelope without any real conviction, that coiled feeling in his chest only tightening as he took out the paper and read the words.

Did you run away, Kuro? The accusation hurt, but it was exactly what he had done.

It's okay, you know. I'm not mad. I figured you would, and Koyuki's not mad either, if you’re worried. I didn't have any real motive in mind for getting you two to meet, but I did want you to talk with him. Possibly just explain to him some of the things I couldn't. Some of the things that were too painful. I told him about us, by the way. He knows everything. He wasn't at the funeral, though, and neither was Ryusei. I couldn't tell them in person for some reason. Perhaps I'm as much a coward as you.

Could you at least tell him, if you see him again, that it wasn't because I didn't care about my childhood friends? I simply couldn't look them in the eyes after all these years apart and tell them: I'm dying because my brain is dying. How does one tell that to anyone? It was hard enough telling you.

So please, Kuro, make ammends where I could not. It's not too late for you.

Simply yours, Mahiru

If anything had been within reach in that moment, he would have swiped everything off the counter and gone on to find more. Trashing the place, if he had to;  but there was nothing, nothing to find but the ramen that his sister had set beside him during his reading. A kind gesture amidst the turmoil of his mind. He crumpled up the letter and cast it aside, dragging the ramen closer and thanking her for her efforts.

It stung that he couldn't thank Mahiru for his.

--

Days came and went until another of his siblings came forward with a letter. This time it was Greed, and Lawless was all too happy to read the words aloud where Kuro would have preferred silence and peace. "To the shut-in known as Kuro," started Lawless in his best imitation of Mahiru's voice. It was slightly off-key and too scratchy to be taken seriously. "Ah, I might take creative liberties," Lawless warned in advance. Too late, as he ploughed on, "I do so hope this letter finds you well and safe. You're not mad at me, are you? Awww, how cute, are you two fighting even when he's de -" His brother ducked the plate that had been aimed at his head and Kuro tsked, lounging back in his chair as he waited for Lawless to go on.

Clearing his throat, Greed continued, "I am writing this time to tell you what I would like done with my clothes and other items of concern. You have to start thinking about it, Kuro, and I'm here to make sure you do. Well, I sent Hyde to fill in for me, but you get where I'm going with this. And who better to help you sort out my things than the One and Only Lawless? ... Your lover boy sure is charming, let me tell you! Sure knows his stuff. Let's see, where was I? Ah, yes. Simply yours, Mahiru. P.S. This means my apron, too, you can't keep it forever. Just as I was not meant to be yours forever. This doesn't make our love any less, but forever is an awfully long time, don't you think?"

Quiet for a moment, Lawless considered what he had said and then set the letter aside, folding his arms behind his back as he surveyed the apartment's open closet. "Where would you like to start?"

Grumbling, Kuro told him, "With you leaving."

"In a bit," assured Lawless, turning to the other person in the apartment instead. "What say you, good man? Have you the sight as well as the gift?"

"Cut it out," Sakuya beseeched, but he peered into the closest to actually answer the question. "I can take a few guesses what needs to go where while the lazy ass collects himself, but you're going to have to do the donating. I don't trust myself." It was the first real admittance to not being over Mahiru that Sakuya had made in quite some time, and it caught Kuro's attention, making him look up from where his gaze had fallen to the floor. There was hurt lurking in those red, red eyes where before Kuro had saw nothing but lies before.

And if one of them could do this, then he would be damned if he didn't get up and help. It didn't make it any easier, but at least together it would go be done faster.

--

Another letter arrived with the shout of, "Fight me, brother!" Gluttony barging into the apartment like an elephant stampeding through a city. It did get his adrenaline pumping, as he rushed to make sure Kuroi didn't get out through the front door. Luckily she had been asleep that night with Wrath, but World End hadn't bothered to shut the door and the kitten was wide awake and ready to escape at a moment's notice.

With the cat safely in his arms, Kuro let out a relieved breath and kicked the door shut where his brother lacked the manners. "What are you doing here?" was becoming his reoccurring question when he knew and suspected what the reply would be without the help.

The produced letter was a welcome sight, regardless, and he tentatively took the envelope once Kuroi was put back on the ground. As he dodged World End's jabs and punches, he retreated to the room he had shared with Mahiru while Sakuya entertained their guest. He readily ignored the crashes and bangs he heard as he read:

Hi again,

How are you doing lately? Did everything go all right with getting rid of my things? I bet the place looks bigger without all my stuff in the way.

Is it beginning to sink in that I'm not coming back, Kuro? I hope so, for your sake. Don't stay there forever. Take Kuroi and move as far as you need to - Sakuya's there to help, so make sure you take advantage of that sweet deal while you can! You will not believe how much money he and Tsubaki have. The perks of working in a world we hardly know about, I guess. But once these letters stop, I'm afraid that's when the deal ends. There's only so long I can tie him down with a promise. Just like there's only so long that I can keep you, Kuro.

Eventually, you're going to get a new name. Not today, maybe not tomorrow. But one day, it's going to happen. Don't be afraid of changing it, because I told you before and I'll tell you again: You'll always be Kuro to me. And that's what matters in the end.

Simply yours, Mahiru

P.S. I know I have done nothing but make you sad in these past few months, but I sent chocolate with your brother. Cheer up, enjoy some candy, and if you could ... give them both hugs for me. I think everyone needs a hug every now and again.

When Kuro came out and did just that, hugging both of the people in the apartment, they immediately started checking him for a fever and asked if he was contagious. He almost refused to share his chocolates with them, until he noticed it was half gone before he could even hold it hostage.

--

Jeje stopped by on a rainy day when the sun was hidden behind the clouds and they were free to move about heedless of the light. He didn't stay to chat, but he did take Kuro's hand in his and gave it a squeeze as he handed off the letter meant for Kuro's eyes. He thought about that and what it was Jeje was trying to tell him as he opened up the envelope and glanced over the words.

This time it was a long one that spoke at length of what Mahiru had been like as child; it read as an autobiography, the last part he would ever have of Mahiru and one that would age just as much as the bell and the cat and the grave site he would continue to visit for many years to come. The letter told him of a tree fort that Mahiru had built with his uncle as a child, hidden in the woods. A secret place where he could go when he was sad and didn't know what to do with those feelings. It instructed Kuro to use that fort, too, when he saw fit. Giving him a reprieve from the world, while the letter before had told him to leave and find his own way.

Still, even in death, Mahiru was looking after him. That was more of a blow than any of the others letters had been. A realization that Mahiru wasn't trying to be deliberately cruel with each word he wrote, but trying to make him face the reality of this new world without his Eve - and it was a reality that he discovered he was going to need that tree fort for after all.

When he arrived at the edge of the forest mentioned in the letter, it was to the sight of Lily holding out another envelope and not looking at him as the rain soaked the paper through. The words were blurry as he read them, but it was a simple sentence within and one he could make out anyway: Someone is waiting for you there. He glanced behind him, squinting through the rainfall and partially expecting a familiar head of green hair to be darting behind a tree. There was no one, save his younger brother and the eerily quiet forest in front of him.

He brushed the branches out of the way and climbed up the tree that led to a crumbling fort, pushing the half-hanging door to the side to take his first peek inside and see, not to his surprise, the person he had run away from in that alley months ago. He didn't ran away this time. Instead, he held out his hand and stared, asking, "Did you get a letter, too?"

"Yeah," admitted Koyuki sheepishly, handing over the envelope he had protected with his rain jacket. "It told me to meet you here and to give you the last one meant for you. Nice to meet you?" A hesitant addition that Kuro took a moment to acknowledge with a nod, right before ripping open the letter and drinking in the final words that he would ever see in Mahiru's tidy handwriting.

Dear Kuro,

Time to say farewell, isn't it? You know all about me now, just as I came to know all about you. It's time to let someone else in, though. Someone you barely know.

For instance, did you know that Koyuki's been having a rough time and I was too blinded by my own problems to see it? Did you know that he was hospitalized and nearly died before me? I was stunned when I found out, and then I realized I couldn't help ... that I would make it worse if I tried.

So, Kuro, I'm counting you. The last thing I will ask of you, not command: Take care of my friend.

Forever simply yours, Mahiru

P.S. You have plenty to take care of now. I don't have to worry, because I know you can handle it. And you know what? You have plenty to live for now, too, and don't you dare forget any of it.

"You ..." Kuro's gaze found the human's and he narrowed his eyes. "What have you done?" The smell of blood shouldn't have been as strong as it was, even dulled by the rain. It wasn't as tempting as Mahiru's had been, but it was a smell that was too familiar to ignore. "Did he tell you to give me a name?"

Koyuki shook his head and glanced pointedly away. "I used to come here with Mahiru sometimes, when we were both sad. We called it our special place. I'm surprised he told you about it. I liked keeping it a secret, even if it's falling apart now ..." His voice hitching, Koyuki folded his hands in his lap and Kuro could make out red marks at his wrists, where a blade had been taken to each. "I'm tired, you know? Of not being enough, of being here at all. I kind of want to disappear, but Mahiru asked one thing of me: If I ever had those thoughts, I was supposed to meet you here and at least give you my blood. Is that how this works, this whole vampire thing?" He flashed his wrists, blood dripping down his arms. "Do you take from people who would like to die?"

"No," hissed Kuro, snatching one of the young man's arms into his hold and identifying how deep the wounds were. "You're not going to die. Too shallow, too weak. You don't want to die. You just want to be seen." Placing the wrist to his lips, he demanded, "Give me a name. You're going to make a contract with me."

Confused, but willing to do as asked, Koyuki said, "Can I call you King, then? You can be the forever and always King of the Cats."

"Good enough," Kuro told him, biting down and making the blood run faster. "You will live if it's the last thing I do." It was his turn to take care of someone else. 

As he jumped down from the fort with an unconscious new Eve in his arms, he noticed Sakuya had called for an ambulance without being prompted. "Where were you?"

"Setting my affairs in order, looks like I'm not done being your chaperone after all. Whatever Mahiru may think of me, I don't give up that easily," promised Sakuya. "This guy is my friend, too. We're going to do this, together."

They both gave a snort and looked away from each other. It sounded too much like something Mahiru might say.

[coffee-recipes]

Hey

This blog is going to be little more than a cookbook laid out in reverse chronological order. If you're looking for content about anything else, the books I'm reading, events in my day, even recipes for beverages - look at the links and feeds in the margins, because none of that will be happening here.

You will be seeing recipes for food that goes well with tea, coffee and other caffeinated beverages. Be forewarned that it will not all be vegetarian. Probably not much of it will be vegan. It will probably all be gluten-free, though I offer no promises. To those who wish to complain about this (and there always seems to be somebody), I pose the question - how much are you paying to read this? I guess we could have a discussion about the well-developed senses of entitlement found on the Internet (ironically, often seen most out of those complaining about the senses of entitlement seen out of others), but I've turned off commenting because you know what? Even without having heard it - with regard to this specific blog, which I created just minutes ago - I'm already tired of hearing about it.

I have no time for drama. Yes, oh my yes, by using yogurt in my recipes, I'll be contributing to the sexual exploitation of dairy cattle because, OMG, do you know what the farmer does to get the milk out of that cow, without the cow's consent? It's horrible, just horrible. And all of those eggs - little chicken embryos, will be used by the ton, to be wept over (no doubt) by sensitive supporters of abortion, who will see nothing incongruous about being loudly intolerant of the killing of chicken embryos while demanding that all be in a live and let live kind of place about the killing of human embryos.

Into this you can read a message about what I think about abortion, and maybe you wouldn't be mistaken. Maybe you would be. I won't answer that here, because this isn't going to be a political blog. What I will say, without hesitation or apology, is that anybody with so much as an ounce of sense knows that the life of a human being is certainly no less valuable than the life of a chicken, so the pro-choice vegans from whom I'd be hearing were I to open up this blog for commenting are being philosophically inconsistent. One can be pro-choice on abortion or anti-choice on the eating of omelets, but one can't be both at the same time and maintain any sort of philosophical coherence. As a blogger, I choose to not engage with people who are being incoherent, because I know that the conversation has nowhere to go, and that I'll be doing damage control on my reputation later should I attempt to take part in such a dialog, because the incoherent people with whom I've engaged will lie about the conversation afterwards in an attempt to make themselves look better.

For this reason, I will absolutely never be open to opening this blog up to commenting, or even open to discussing the possibility. That's true of my blogs in general, because I've found that trolling, spam and lunacy tends to be what I get when I do accept comments, but it applies with extra force here. There is a type of person - ultra-far left, ultra-feminist, totally politically correct vegans who've decided that coffeehouses, in general, are their own personal turf. They act as if they are claiming ownership over the very concept of a coffeehouse, without acknowledging that they're doing so, as if one couldn't walk into some of these places and see corned beef sandwiches being served to neo-confederate gun nuts. Coffeehouses in real life have a wide mix of people and foods, many of them not even remotely politically correct, but online, some people like to create their own fantasy worlds, seemingly in the hope of getting so many other people to mistake the fantasies for reality, that their societal dreams will come true.

But they won't be coming true here. The comments stay off, and the meat, eggs and dairy stay in. If you don't like that, don't read. Nobody is forcing you to. But if you do, welcome, hope you enjoy my content, and hope you'll enjoy the peace and quiet. Again, no promises because I don't know what other people are going to do, but at this point I expect this to be the last time I ever have to raise the vegan riot grrl issue on this blog, and hope that it will the last time I have to raise it anywhere. There's a very big internet out there and I am but a very small and obscure player on that virtual stage, so my hope is that the Antifa types who drop by to make trouble, on discovering that they can't post, will get bored and go somewhere else. Hard to picture any of those people managing to cook anything without burning down their kitchens, anyway. What would they get out of this blog, by staying?

This will be a blend of different cuisines. If what I just said in some way encouraged a member of the alt-right to think that he was going to be at home here, surprise. Middle Eastern, East Asian and African influences will show up more than infrequently. I belong to a multi-racial family and feel completely comfortable with that, so if somebody was thinking of looking me up on one of the social networks and sharing his racism with a kindred soul, I would warn him that he would be greatly disappointed and ask him to please take that nonsense elsewhere. Rejecting one form of insanity does not obligate me to embrace another, least of all one that comes at the expense of those I know and love.

As for those who will say something like "Chicago is in 'Merica, so how come you don't cook more 'Merican stuff" they can take their nativism somewhere else. Anglo-Saxons and their culture do not own the continent. The rest of us have the right to be here and be ourselves, so to those who will get worked up over "creeping multiculturalism" as if America had not been home to a wide variety of cultures and subcultures since the time of its founding - get over it, and take your cultural intolerance somewhere else. Preferably to a psychiatrist's office, where you can get the therapy you need, because if you honestly feel the need to manage the lives of others to such an invasive, micromanaging extent that you're willing to tell them what they can have for lunch (or any other meal), that's pathological.

Enough of that. What a world, when I have to start a cookbook with a few words about extremist politics and harassment. Let's get on with the recipes.

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

That's also what I mean when I say I want the debate shifted. There should be no debate on whether women should have abortion. Woman wants abortion, she gets abortion. End of story.

I want fierce debate on how to get men to stop being sexually irresponsible and/or coercive. I want pills recommended, I want condom use mandated, I want fines and jail-time while men insist they really did use it correctly, it just broke! They swear! I want mandatory vasectomies on the table as doctors fight to improve the reversibility.

I don't mean, let's not leave men out of the abortion debate! It takes two to tango! No. I mean no more abortion debate. Women get to have abortions. Period. That's it. I want the abortion debate replaced with an entirely new debate that targets men and men only.

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

I think there's some confusion on the post I made about holding men responsible for unwanted pregnancies. A chosen abortion is in fact rarely traumatizing. The most commonly reported feeling afterward is relief. From firsthand experience, having had an abortion myself, I can say "relief" is the closest approximation of how I felt but it falls woefully short.

It's the unwanted pregnancy that's traumatizing. That fucking stays with you. That sense of panic, of your body not being your own, of feeling like a trapped animal, I don't wish that on any woman or girl, and that's my point: in order to get to the point of needing an abortion, she still has to be pregnant first, and that is hell. Absolute hell.

So it's not about men getting out of the responsibility of being a father (though, yes, plenty of men do support abortion for this reason). He could be the most willing father in the world (and there are also men who fit the bill here; reproductive coercion is a thing), and that still isn't going to make up for the fact that he made a woman pregnant when she didn't want to be.

So that's what I mean when I say the fact there are so many abortions happening reveals a huge problem. 1 in 3 women are suffering through pregnancies they don't want for however long it takes for them to be able to get rid of it (not to mention all the women who can't get rid of it and forced to carry to term). All because men are irresponsible or coercive.

I would like to see abortion become less not because abortion is wrong--it's good, actually--but because I want to see far, far, far less women and girls having to suffer weeks or more of pregnancies they don't want.

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

The only wrong abortion is that which women are forced or coerced into getting. All the rest are good actually, yes all of them.

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

A zygote is always a zygote until it becomes a blastocyst. A blastocyst is always a blastocyst until it becomes an embryo. An embryo is always an embryo until it becomes a foetus. A foetus is always a foetus until it's born and becomes a baby. A newborn child is always a baby until it progresses to a toddler, etc..

A zygote/blastocyst/embryo/foetus may also be a baby to the woman carrying it, but only to her. Some may agree that that's her baby and be happy that she thinks of it that way, and she may be happy that they think of it that way. But her thoughts on the pregnancy of another woman don't matter. Only that woman's does.

The only objective baby is a born baby. Before that, whether it's a baby depends entirely on the woman carrying it. Not the man who caused it, not her church, not politicians. The woman and the woman alone.

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

I simply support every abortion a woman or girl ever wants for herself. No qualifiers. :)

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

Like, it’s me. I’m the one who had an abortion for “selfish” reasons. I’m the one anti-choice women can point to and be like, how horrible that these women kill their babies for their own convenience! They mean me when they want women forced to give birth to children they don’t want. If they had their way, I’d have a 12 yr old right now and be stuck in contact with my ex. I still don’t want those women to be pregnant when they don’t want to be. Like, this isn’t fucking hard.

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

I have to laugh in contempt at people calling anti-choice women hypocritical for having abortions when they call themselves pro-choice and...wish for anti-choice women to be forced to give birth. Like...you’re the same. You’re exactly like them. No! you cry, they DESERVE it! It’s different! That’s what they fucking think about other women, you dumb shit. Some of you call yourself pro-choice because it’s the cool lefty thing to do, but you aren’t actually. It’s all performative. When I say I’m pro-choice when it comes to abortion rights, I fucking mean it. Even for women I would otherwise like to strangle. I will NEVER. EVER. wish forced birth or rape on any woman. Especially not over fucking words, holy shit.

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

What’s great is, while experiencing my own unwanted pregnancy and subsequent chosen abortion gave me personal insight into what that’s like, plus some fun extras like having not yet had PIV and needing my septate hymen cut on the operating table, and not being able to swallow pills so feeling everything, I was fully pro-choice before that.

It started when I was eleven years old and first heard about abortion at my Catholic elementary school, where there was talk of the “aborted babies” still being alive and crying and being thrown in the trash. I was horrified and later repeated it to my nana, who laid things out to me: that as her relationship with my grampa had begun to fail, she thought she was pregnant and her thought was “I cannot bring another child into this marriage”, and she would have had an abortion if it had come to it. Then she told me a story from her home country of Ireland. A girl my age had been raped by her own father and become pregnant. The priests stopped her from going to England for an abortion until she threatened suicide. Nana asked me: where is the real evil there? It was obvious to me: the father and the priests. I did a 180 and never looked back.

And then as I grew older and my own body developed, I formed this kind of sense of pregnancy where a forced abortion or forced pregnancy and birth just seemed incredibly evil to me, like sin against nature kind of a thing, just something deeply wrong. Still, I’d wanted kids all my life and thought if I ever got pregnant I could have never have an abortion myself but fully supported women and girls who did. Until of course I got pregnant myself and realized pretty quickly that yes I could. And that just cemented it for me. More evil than the cruelest words of an anti-choice woman would be forcing her to endure a pregnancy and birth she doesn’t want. It’s on the same level as rape, incest*, cannibalism*, necrophilia, etc. it’s just fucking wrong.