#bear in mind i now have TWELVE exercises to do. up from six

[fingertipsmp3]

Sometimes it really feels like the world is conspiring to keep me from reading

[missinghan]

to my youth ⤖ lee felix

❖ genre : summer au; high school au; fluff

❖ word count : 11,6k.

❖ warning : explicit language, slow burn

❖ summary : it is official that life hates you because not only was your first few days of summer ruined by a stupid field trip, but things also got somewhat freaky… whatever kind of ‘freaky’ you’re thinking about.

❖ note : i know i said i’m ‘experimenting’ with new stuff but guess who’s back with another mediocre, not-that-well-written mess of a domestic au; please (kindly) yell at me to dabble into a new genre after bearing through this fic- happy reading!

one.

The echoes of your summer days remain as flowers immune to the winter chill, they say.

You’re not entirely sure who even fathomed their time and effort to come up with that statement but from your point of view, those flowers would most likely have either died out from the summer heat or withered horrendously because of the arbitrary showers of rain. Or you’re the only one who doesn’t have the luxury to see life through a rose-colored lens.

Because the first thing that comes to mind for you is the bucket of ice-cream and a YouTube OG that you’ve ceased to finish since finals started two weeks ago. The bell rings, pens down, everyone pours out of the classroom after handing in their exam papers. No one really bothers to check up on each other’s answers anymore; the last subject for today was AP Psych and you don’t know about them but you honestly can’t care any less thereafter cramming the entirety of five chapters. 

Sprinting down the staircase, you easily spot Felix amongst the midst of drowsy high school students for the bright color of his hair. He truly believes that if he slaps enough hair essence and coconut oil on his head four times a week, his hair won’t feel like straws when he changes it every other three weeks. But it’s only a matter of time before balding catches up to him, he’ll learn eventually.

“Please don’t tell me that you left your keys in class,” you sigh upon the sight of him fumbling with his folders and textbooks while trying to open his locker in vain. Just thinking about walking all the way back to the third floor makes you want to use your backpack as a pillow and take a nice nap in the middle of the hallway.

“Gee, Y/N,” Felix makes a face to not show the sense of relief washing over him when he locks eyes with you. “Who do you take me as? A clumsy person?”

“No, just a dumbass.” You coldly snatch a slipping book from his arms before turning to twist the disc in the combination of your birthday until the lock clicks, shaking the shackle off to swing his locker open. It’s a silent tradition that you both set each other’s birthday as your locker’s combination since elementary school; it started out as a stupid joke at first but neither of you really bothered to change it. 

“Why the hell would you put your keys in the locker?” you widen your eyes in disbelief as he grabs the bright yellow Spongebob plushie to collect his keys with a shit-eating grin

“My alarm didn’t go off today, so I was running a little late,” he defends himself while dumping everything out of his backpack, hugging an empty water bottle to his side. 

You throw a wave at a very tired Hyunjin walking side by side with Seungmin on his right and Jisung skipping happily towards your direction. Seungmin looks exceptionally moody today, you pray he didn’t mess up an easy question to take it out on all of you later in the car. “Bet you were staying up late to play Overwatch with Chan.” 

Felix manages to grin stiffly at your comment, turning on his heels and trudges onto the school’s parking lot. “Fine, walk home.” 

“Hey, you forgot to lock this!” you pull his steps into a halt by making a grab for his hand, utterly oblivious at how his cheeks flare up with a bright shade of red at your touch. Or out of embarrassment. Whatever, same thing. 

Felix might be a better driver than you, but he’d be fired ten seconds into the job of a babysitter.

With that being said, when Jeongin decides it’s a good idea to cheer a passive-aggressive, post-exams Seungmin up with a carton of strawberry milk and then proceeds to get lost in his own school, the very same school he’s been attending for who knows how long, you’re the one who manually pulls his ass back into Mrs. Lee’s Jeep within ten minutes. 

And Seungmin has already fallen asleep by the time Jeongin’s back, so now he’s the passive-aggressive one while sipping on the milk bitterly. Either way, this is why you headcount although there are only six of you after Changbin starts getting busy with his college applications. 

“What took you so long?” Jisung looks up from his phone the moment you climb into the passenger’s seat, clicking in your seatbelt (drive safe, kids). 

You immediately feel the need to snap a photo of Jeongin accidentally breaking the cafeteria’s door with the staff running towards him in a panic. They’re more scared for his life than the door itself and that’s… sweet to say the least but with the way that the embarrassed boy is glaring at you through the rear-view mirror, you decide to keep your lips sealed. 

“It’s getting dark so all hallways start to look the same, you genius.”

Jisung momentarily sticks his tongue out at you. “God, you’re so rude to me. You’d never talk to Felix like that.”

“Because,” you drawl. “Lix is a pure-hearted angel descended from the realms of Heaven. Whereas, even Lucifer would see you as an eyesore in hell.”

“See! You’re doing it again!” Jisung points a finger at you in accusation, jumping up and down in his seat but no one really cares. It’s not like you’re speaking any false facts. “Stop bullying me!”

Seungmin shifts his body a little, nose scrunched up at the noises that wake him right up. “Jisung,” he warns his friend without opening his eyes. “Sit the fuck down, you have five seconds.”

Felix smirks when Jisung immediately cowers, slumping and leaning himself against Hyunjin in utter defeat. He learned not to mess with Seungmin after throwing a wallet at him on impulse. “Jealous much, Han?” 

“Nah, she’s all yours bro,” Jisung waves it off tiredly; bickering and making fun of Felix’s gigantic crush on you is too much for his brain to process today. He can really use a long, solid twelve-hour summer hibernation after getting home. 

The statement prompts Felix to look over at you when there’s a red light—the same exact moment as you stop staring at the bakery from across the road to lock eyes with him. There’s a little spark igniting at the pit of his stomach, stirring up butterflies inside his rib cage. But he snaps out of it after seeing you raise a brow at him, implying a silent ‘what?’ before turning away again. Felix has always been the type to stare so you don’t bother to think about it too much. 

The problem is: he only stares at you that way. 

A shade of coral creeps its way up to his cheeks, his gaze averting back on the roads when the light turns green. As Felix tries to calm the erratic tempo of his heartbeat, he also thinks about how much time he’d have left to confess before high school is over and everyone takes their own different paths. Then again, the future is far too blurry for him to make out anything and the thought of changes petrifies him a bit too much. 

Felix wishes to hold your hand until the very end but he’s a little scared...because what if you never wanted to be with him in the first place?

two.

Your brother has one talent, and that’s his ability to irritate the living daylight out of you even when he’s practically on the other side of the planet.

Minho (un)fortunately finished his finals with flying colors, and inevitably, you’re the first victim to receive a series of texts that consisted of nothing but self-indulgent, excessive bragging. Basically, he’s allowed to do whatever slash go wherever for a good three weeks before his summer internship begins, dragging his dumb ass back to hell—where he rightfully belongs. 

He’s probably chomping on a terribly unhealthy amount of pizza, pretzels, and any type of New York street food that you can name from the top of your head. It’s not like he’s paying for them anyway since Chan doesn’t allow people to touch their wallets if they happen to eat out with him. 

Your phone vibrates obnoxiously on your desk, the judder slightly muffled because it’s lying on top of your wide-open psych textbook. You haven’t bothered with cleaning up yet; finals only ended yesterday and you decide that you won’t touch anything until the disarray starts to scrape against your nerves. 

Side note: you’ve specifically told everyone not to call you three consecutive days after finals because yes, you’re that much of a loner, and yes, your stamina level for tolerating human interaction is awfully low. 

Second side note: no one ever listens. 

“Good morning, this is Lee Minho’s personal bullshit pail,” you mumble after your thumb swipes against the screen to pick up, your limbs curled up on the floor. “How can I possibly help you today?” Your morning voice isn’t necessarily threatening but rather scary; according to what Minho claimed, it sounds identical to that creepy girl from The Grudge so he groans aloud, his voice suddenly going out of focus on the other line from pulling his phone away.

“Jesus Christ are you still in your hermit phase after finals?” he questions callously, sounding not at all pleased with the way you greeted him. “Where’s mom and dad? Usually, they would have slammed your ass by now for staying inside like a vampire.”

“Don’t be insufferable, it’s only like…” you trail off while bending forward to take a good look at the little Sumiko Gurashi alarm on your bookshelf that Felix gave you during middle school. “Nine thirty-something and they’re at the park to exercise, duh- why do you care?”

Your brother almost sings on the phone, “Because you’re my little baby sister-” And this prompts you to pull the device away for the sake of your poor ear. It doesn’t help when you’re already surrounded by a group full of obnoxiously loud individuals on a daily basis. Not trying to call anyone out but Han Jisung is at the top of the list, his name in bold, capital letters being circled and underlined multiple times with a red marker.

“Who do I gotta kill to sleep in on a dreadful Sunday morning as any normal, cranky, antisocial high school student would?” you deadpan and rub the bridge of your nose dreadfully. 

“I don’t know, go murder Jisung or something.” Honestly, that’s tempting… but no.

You can physically see the smug smile on his face right now, simpering in delight at your imminent misery. He knows goddamn well about your relationship with sleeping schedules and that’s the perfect excuse for him to ruin those little specks of time when your brain cells are getting an actual break. 

These are also the times when you wish phones don’t fucking exist. 

“By the way, are you gonna go on the field trip tomorrow?” 

This question wakes you up almost completely because your eyes are now wide as a fish’s out of water, your hand automatically putting him on speaker before digging through the folders inside your backpack. What field trip? No one said anything about a field trip. And who thought it’s a good idea to force some worn-out, post-exams, sleep-deprived students into a field trip right after finals?

Minho hums coyly when the only response he’s getting is the rustling sound from your backpack, “Hmm, see what I meant there, little sis? Oh, the downside of living under a rock at its finest.” He doesn’t have to be here for you to fully picture the way that his lips curl up, dark brows wiggling whenever he’s right about something. Your brother wins most of the time against other people but overtaking you is an entirely different story.

“Oh screw off and go buy yourself a sense of humor.”

“Don’t be so mopey, isn’t Felix gonna be there?”

“What does Felix have to do with this?” you grit after managing to pull out a piece of paper from the very back, buried under countless of your essays. And it reads ‘field trip’ in caps at the top with tomorrow’s date right beneath. The trip lasts for three days, you’re going camping with the grizzly bears for three days—a total nightmare, basically. 

“Pfft, you’re actually dense for someone with a sparkly report card,” he sneers. “That kid has been crushing on you since elementary school. Are the signals that fucked up?”

“You mean when I accidentally spilled orange juice over his head? Sure, bet that’s why he’s so head over heels for me,” you snicker, unfazed by these kinds of statements. Minho only knows Felix because he was the president of your school's dance club and you fully believe that your brother is simply trying to mess with your malfunctioning, cranky mindset. 

“I fucking beg to differ, he always stares at you like you’re the love of his life, even when you stupidly poked yourself with a needle,” Minho announces as if he’s a love expert, tsk, amateur. “He might just confess during the trip, who knows? Campfire flickering. Sharing the same s’mores. Surrounded by nature. That sounds romantically ideal to me for a confession.”

He’s visioning everything like a terrible cliché film where two high schoolers stubbornly deny their feelings for each other until they start noticing how cute the other person is while magically being forced to be alone together. The worst kind of high school movie—which is also almost every high school movie. And you best believe that you’d a hundred percent kick your brother’s ass off that director’s chair because people live and breathe for this kind of overused entertainment. Tragic. 

“Alright, fuck this, I’m out-“

“Wait!” Minho exclaims out of nowhere, almost blowing up your eardrums. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

You swear you’re rolling your eyes so hard, they’re about to fall out of their respective sockets. “Well, obviously,” you put the piece of paper down with a sigh, contemplating ways to minimize the amount of socializing in the upcoming three days. “Haven’t you bothered me enough? No?”

“You can’t leave me like this,” he whines in an annoyingly high-pitched voice that sends chills down your spine. 

“You need me, we’re connected.” 

He sounds like a whack version of Minnie Mouse for a second there, the kind of plushie that looks cute but with disturbingly creepy voice audio; no parents would let their children go near that aisle. 

You yawn as if there’s no tomorrow, stretching your limbs tiredly. “What I need is for you to shut the fuck up and leave me alone so I can go on my merry way to pick up snacks for this stupid field trip,” you utter lifelessly. 

“You hurt my feelings,” Minho pretends to clutch onto his chest and lets out a dramatic gasp, his voice doused in pure sarcasm. “What a heartbreaker, Y/N.” Said the one who always keeps his apathetic front up like a fortress’ wall and tosses every single love letter on Valentine’s Day into the recycling bin, handing the chocolate out to his classmates like he’s giving leftover vegetables to his least favorite relatives.

“Oh, I can tell,” you reply with fake enthusiasm and mock empathy. “You know how I can tell?”

“Do not finish th-”

“Cause we’re connected.” With that you hang up, slamming your phone harshly onto the surface of your textbook. 

three. 

You might love your room a little too much, it’s getting somewhat unhealthy.

It was furnished with a rather meager budget after your family moved out of your hometown when you stepped into elementary school. Things stay the same, well, most of it as time passes by you unknowingly. Your sad bookcase used to exist for one sole purpose—carrying countless books and plushies has now been upgraded with too many polaroids of your dumb group of friends, a neatly framed photo of Class of 2020 and two trophies that don’t even belong to you since Minho ran out of space as he kept participating in random dance competitions. 

The morning beams find their way through your white curtains and stain your walls with patches of yellow, eventually bugging your vision until you successfully convince yourself to either 1) wake up and get ready for school or 2) lazily stride across your room to shut the blinds completely so you can head back to bed. It’s summer… so option one is temporarily non-existent for a solid three months. 

Hey, you’re just simply making up for those all-nighters with a new cup of coffee every two hours.

Speaking of your bed, it’s soft but takes up so much space to the point that Hyunjin keeps complaining about not having enough room for his legs when he’s sprawled across the floor with Jisung, vigorously focusing on a presentation’s outline. Seungmin calls you lame for not throwing away your childhood plushies and letting them hog at least one-third of your bed, but Felix doesn’t mind since he always needs something to hug. All the more reasons why you can only trust Felix.

You might miss having those idiots being loud and invading your personal space...maybe.

Your phone rings for the second time that morning when you’re walking downstairs, shoving your keys into your pocket and grabbing a protein bar on the counter. “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit right now, Minho,” you bark into the device, chewing on your breakfast aggressively, not bothering to look at the caller’s ID.

The closest convenience store is only twenty minutes away from your house but there’s a sticky note on the fridge from your mom, reminding you that she needs eggs to bake cupcakes for her company’s twentieth anniversary while your dad is running low on his Red Bulls. Basically, you’re in distress. It’s not like your dad should be inhaling those sugary drinks on a daily basis and your mom can just buy premade goods from the bakery. But there are more options for snacks at the supermarket…

“Y/N, the fuck?” The response of a voice as deep as the Pacific ocean almost makes you choke on air. “Did I wake you up or something?” Felix sounds flabbergasted on the other line, slightly taken aback. You almost feel bad because he’s the only sweetheart in your chaotic squad (besides Chan, obvi) except when he stays up late gaming with Hyunjin, pleading for your notes the next morning with puppy eyes.

“No, Minho did,” you grumble before tossing the wrapping into a bin.

“You don’t say,” Felix replies flatly, but his voice soon grows merry again after pushing the topic of your brother aside. “Oh, and I’m coming over to return your earphones, wanna grab breakfast?”

He practically lives ten minutes away from you, sees you almost every day even if it’s the weekend since he can’t stay in the same house with his sisters for too long and puts you on FaceTime every night to prevent himself from slacking off on assignments. The only time he didn’t get to see you for a week straight was when he visited Australia and accidentally dropped his phone into the ocean. It was a rough week without you nagging him for doing something stupid. Fundamentally, he’s merely making up more excuses to spend time with you after finals.

Chuckling, “Only if you’re treating me, I’m about to go broke from buying snacks for our field trip tomorrow.” you say breezily. 

And you’re only telling him that because he might just pay for your snacks as well since Felix Lee eats freshly grilled steak and mashed potato for breakfast. Baffling, absolutely. Plus, he works at a boba shop every summer either way and he would never hesitate to spend the entirety of his paycheck on any of his close friends. Irrelevant but the point is: you kinda don’t wanna go out alone today.

Or you’re just in the mood to go with Felix. That’s a useless statement since you both see each other at least ten out of twenty-four hours per day. 

“By the way, you know what I just realized?” Felix smacks his palm on his forehead. “This is our last field trip, like ever.”

Walking over to the rack of shoes down the hallway, you let out a large exhale. “That’s unfortunate on your behalf. I, on the other hand, don’t have a problem with that,” you tell him with zero consideration, your brain cells too busy picking out a pair of shoes to process the five basic steps to empathize with another human being. 

“No,” he emphasizes helplessly. “I meant, it’s like our last high school field trip. We’re graduating next year, no time to sleep with the grizzly bears again.”

You can only manage to utter, “Oh.” Shit, college is right around the corners. 

“Jesus fucking Christ what the hell am I supposed to do after high school? Stay here? Go abroad? Wait, aren’t applications for going abroad supposed to be turned in a year beforehand? Why are you only telling me this now!?” 

Felix laughs wholeheartedly through the phone, amused at your sudden outburst. “Y/N, calm down. You’re going to college, not prison,” he brushes it off casually but in a way, college is technically prison. Slaving over a degree while working part-time jobs, chasing time relentlessly like you’re driving in the middle of a foggy night with one headlight out. And you’re forced to open up with more strangers. It’s terrifying, actually terrifying. And you’re not the type to be easily terrified. 

Now come to think about it, you don’t get why you were so pressed about it five seconds ago. It’s a good opportunity not to leech off your parents as much, like dabbling, taking one baby step at a time into adulthood. After that, you’ll graduate again, probably settle somewhere with an adequate job and find someone, starting to think about having ki-

Hold up, you’re going too far. You’re barely a senior. 

“I guess we’ll just have to make the most out of this summer,” Felix’s voice snaps you back to the surface of Earth faster than a tick of a clock. “We’re outside, by the way. Open up.”

That fast? Furrowing your brows, you hang up to slip into a pair of sneakers before sprinting to the front door. Wait, your hand freezes as it grazes the doorknob. We?

Not again. 

“Why the fuck..” you cracks a lifelessly crooked smile after pushing the door wide open. “..are you here?” It’s only ten in the morning, and you don’t think you should be screaming at the top of your lungs to be jumped on by the whole neighborhood.

Felix takes a step back, a little scared for his life. “Uhh, to return your earphones?”

“No, no,” you run a hand through your hair tiredly. Just when you thought this day was gonna be peaceful. “I’m not talking about you, I’m talking about them. Since when was this an agreement? How dare-“

“Why yes, I missed you too!” Jisung exclaims like the little shit he is, throwing an arm over your neck to ruffle your hair. No one ruffles your hair without getting their ass slammed- except for Minho. “Why the long face? Let me guess, until this exact second, you thought there’s a fucking squirrel, a lama, a dog, and a kitten standing at your front porch? No, it’s us, your Forever BFFs.” He’s one of the reasons why you refuse to understand the humans’ language sometimes.

With a harsh shove from you, Jisung staggers backward only for Hyunjin to prevent him from rolling like a ball in the middle of your neighborhood. “One more word and I’m telling the whole class who your crush is,” you threaten, earning an involuntary snort from Seungmin. 

“I hate to admit this, but she might actually say yes if he makes the first move.”

Hyunjin supplies unconstructively, “That’s why he didn’t ask.”

“You know what, Hwang,” Felix says with a smirk tugging at his lips, bumping his fist against Hyunjin’s without turning his head. 

“Oh screw all of you.” Jisung’s getting all the attention he wanted this early in the morning yet he still feels like a loser. Perhaps he should try shutting up once in a while. 

four.

“Thanks for giving me a ride, uncle, you really didn’t have to,” Felix says generously from your dad’s back seats, scratching the nape of his neck as though this is the first time he’s ever shared a ride with you. 

He’s too humble sometimes you just want to smack him across the face with a pillow to stop being so formal with your dad. Heck, Felix downright called him ‘dad’ by accident once during a Christmas dinner back in middle school and your dad even encouraged him to keep addressing him like that. 

Not to mention, Felix is chomping on a turkey sandwich that your mom made this morning specifically for him after finding out that his parents are currently out of town and there's nothing but ramen in the cabinet. God forbids her to starve the same kid who helped your dad fix his bumper. So really, he should be expecting these things by now. 

“Oh it’s not a big deal, you’re too nice,” your dad laughs as he pulls over to your school’s front gate, careful not to run into that one really tall, ugly tree. You’re lowkey paranoid that people might die if it collapses during a storm or something. “Perhaps you can return the favor by getting a drink with me sometimes.”

Felix blinks numerous times, slightly gobsmacked. “...but I’m not old enough to drink yet.”

“Correct answer.” And you snicker when your dad turns around to toss a wink at your friend’s direction. “Doesn’t mean that I’m forbidding you kids have fun,” he clarifies upon the baffled expression on Felix’s face. “But not too much fun, got it?”

“Okay, okay dad, I’ll see you in three days,” you shake your head before climbing out of the car. “Don’t starve the cats while I’m gone. Oh! And Soonie still needs his lactobacillus-“

Your dad brushes it off with a sheepish smile, “I’ll leave it to your mom, muffin, I can’t even remember which dry food is for which cat. I also don’t think they’ll be starving anytime soon, those little demons are getting quite fat actually since your brother spoils them all the time.” You can only give him a mere eye-roll because as much as he claims to hate having pets, there have been countless times when you caught your dad red-handed trying to tuck the cats into bed in the middle of the night. 

Felix soon catches up with your steps after bidding him farewell, crumpling the sandwich wrapper in his palm. “Wait up, muffin,” he says breathlessly with a few skips, starting to think about not skipping dance practice again this summer before his body gets out of shape. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, followed by a harsh elbow jabbed into his side. Felix grunts in pain, slowing down a little but still tries to walk side by side with you nonetheless. “You don’t deserve that complimentary breakfast, I’m telling mom to cut your portion off next time.” 

“Ah! Come on, muffin! You’re being mean.”

Your biggest fear has inevitably come true—after all those years of erratic mood swings and other weird things puberty puts you through, Felix still makes fun of you for the nickname that your parents came up with on your first day of school. It doesn’t help with the fact that he meets them quite often too. Like four out of seven days a week since your parents love coming over to each other’s house for dinner. 

“Flip that scowl upside down now, will you?” Felix cups your cheeks and squishes them together, attempting to make your smile by tugging at the corners of your lips. “Aren’t you excited about the trip?”

You scoff at him, “Are you even hearing yourself? My entire existence reeks off ‘excitement’ 24/7.” 

“That’s bullshit.”

“I’m not responsible for whatever happens next to your face.”

But when you reach up to peel his hands away, you’re bound to make a grave mistake by looking straight into his eyes. The morning light hits his face at the right angle and it makes him look like a puppy—which you wouldn't mind starting at all day. Although it’s not like you haven’t got a good look at him before, something’s different today. From the way his irises twinkle gently like thousands of celestial bodies to how his freckles scattered across his cheekbones like the remaining bits from a supernova, his full lips with a prominent Cupid’s bow and his cute crooked teeth. 

You know all of these things; perhaps you’ve never put too much thought into them before. Not when you’re constantly facepalming at him for doing stupid TikTok dances and trying to eat a banana with its peel on. But now when you actually acknowledge them, your heart momentarily skips a beat. Or two. 

Doesn’t matter, you hate this feeling either way. 

“Get a room, this is disgusting to watch.” 

Seungmin steps in between you two with his backpack slung over his shoulders, hands resting on his hip like he’s babysitting you and your biological parents don’t pay him enough for this tedious job. But Felix is too busy making sure that his eyes aren’t malfunctioning when he sees a pink tint on your cheeks to focus on whatever nonsense Seungmin is spewing at him. 

“Get on the bus, losers! Y’all are embarrassing me!” Hyunjin yells as he plants a foot onto the bus, trying his best not to be subtle about the fact that all of your classmates have already been seated. 

You can practically see Jisung making weird faces from the window and next to him is a very cranky-looking Jeongin with his earbuds plugged in, deciding not to tolerate any chit-chatting this morning. It’s a shame how the school’s always on a low budget when it comes to transportation; consequently, some random freshmen got squeezed in with your class. 

So you elect to ignore your friend’s questionable behaviors (sometimes you wonder what he’s on to be this zealous at six in the morning) and grabs Felix's hand to climb onto the vehicle before coach Kim kicks your ass for slowing the schedule down. 

As you shuffle down the narrow aisle, you quickly realize there are only two seats left at the very back—basically, you feel a little guilty for not getting a good spot for Felix but he doesn’t seem to mind because he taps you on the shoulder lightly, signaling for you to move.

“Ugh, I wanna go home,” you sigh, slumping into your seat after tucking your backpack neatly on the small compartment above. 

“You’re boring,” Felix comments flatly but he’s partially glad that he got to sit with you instead of some blabberer. “Need this?” Fishing his earphones out of his backpack, he wiggles the banana milk case in front of your face. 

You only nod lazily at the offer, causing him to huff in disbelief before slipping in a side of his AirPods into your ear. You both have pretty similar taste in music so you don’t mind when he puts one of his playlists on random and Fly Me to the Moon bleeds into your eardrums. The soft melody makes you yawn a little, eyelids getting droopy. 

“Tired.” Is the only warning Felix gets before you decide to drop your head onto his shoulders, slipping your arm around his torso comfortably like it’s a pillow. You personally don’t do cuddles but since he’s into those things and smells nice—very fruity, somewhat musky too, you might as well take advantage of that with the hope of sleeping throughout the entire ride. 

“What is wrong with you today?” he asks with glowing cheeks. 

“Shh shh, I’m recharging my battery.”

Felix is a little flustered, to say the least. But instead of complaining about your sudden clinginess, he rests his head on top of yours like second nature, allowing his childhood song to drown out some of the background chatters. 

You should really be clingy more often… though he’s not gonna risk his pearly white teeth by telling you that. 

five. 

Your school actually knows how to manage money in a smart way. Shocker, you know. 

You are thrown off upon hearing that no one needs to worry about the grizzly bears, or wolves (hey, one can never be too careful) because everyone gets to share a log cabin with a maximum of three other people. 

In fact, the camp counselors have confirmed that even though they’re throwing a bunch of inexperienced, dumb high schoolers smacked in the middle of the wilderness, there’s really nothing to do other than boring team-building exercises...and fishing. In other words, the only creature that can somewhat do harm to you is mosquitoes. 

It’s been pouring nonstop when your classmates tried to set up the campfire with coach Kim screaming into their eardrums last night, no wonder those little shit are thriving to make your life more miserable—they’re in their element, reproducing at a terrifying pace. 

“Jesus Christ, Y/N!” 

Hyunjin clutches a hand to his chest in both relief and terror after realizing the curled up figure sitting by the window is just you. He steps inside the cabin completely and flings his wet bangs away from his face, shoving the umbrella in his hand into a stand by the shoe rack. “You look like shit, are you okay?” he furrows his brows, slightly concerned about your eyebags and the way your lips crack from dehydration.

A soulless smile finds its way to your face. “I’m pretty sure ‘shit’ and ‘okay’ aren’t supposed to be in the same sentence but thank you for asking, I appreciate it.”

Here’s another downside to being a homebody: you can’t fucking sleep on any other beds that aren’t yours. And surprisingly that two-hour nap on the bus wasn’t enough to fuel you for the rest of the trip. But lucky you, it’s most likely going to keep raining cats and dogs and trash pandas for the rest of the day. Outdoor activities are no longer mandatory and you can almost hear your non-existent muscles crying in sheer joy. 

“Drink,” Hyunjin sighs at your pathetic state and decides to toss a water bottle in your direction. 

However, all you do is retrieve your limbs deeper into Felix’s fluffy blanket since he refused to use the grey one that’s draped over every bed beforehand. You’re far beyond grateful for that because those fading, questionable-looking stains just scare the crap out of you. And also because the fluffy blanket smells like him; you rest your case.

“You were knocked out for the entire bus ride, so why the hell can’t you fall asleep on a decent bed?” Shaking his head, Hyunjin plops himself onto Jisung’s bed like a potato, accidentally knocking over the neatly folded pile of clothes. He really doesn’t give two flying fucks about the fact that his friend spent an excessive ten minutes to organize his stuff so coach Kim won’t be barging into their cabin with a megaphone at five in the morning again. 

“She can only fall asleep on Felix, that’s why.” You roll your eyes in the bitchiest way possible, not bothering to chuck the abandoned water bottle at the unwanted guest of this terrific conversation. 

Hyunjin almost lets out a shriek when Seungmin jolts up from his bed, hair messy, a leg sticking out from his comforter. “You know, until this exact moment, I thought that you were dead or something.”

“What I’m trying to say is,” Seungmin elaborates as he bends over to reach for his glasses with squinted eyes. “There’s a 99,9% that Felix will make the first move but at the same time, it doesn’t mean the other 0,01% won’t happen so you,” he jabs his index finger towards you. “Better be doing something other than walking around camp like a zombie.”

Hyunjin tilts his head in confusion. “Since when was this even a thing?” You’re this close to have a permanent hand imprint on your forehead for facepalming every two seconds with your idiotic friends around. 

“Uhh, since forever?” Seungmin feels the need to voice out. “Listen, since the day Y/N spilled orange juice on Felix’s favorite shirt, the amount of times they’re forced to be together has risen tremendously. And when their parents found out their families live like ten minutes away from each other, they practically see each other every single day. Even outside of school. They tolerate each other, meaning the dynamic is long-lasting. Their bonding encouraged friendship.” 

“But we’re her friends too?”

A deep breath. “No, their friendship was incited to grow into something bigger, more profound because Felix has a special ‘click’ with Y/N that he doesn’t with us. God, Hyunjin, it’s been what, almost a decade! How could you not see it?” Seungmin says with expressive hands, almost yanking every strand of hair off of his head. It’s too early for this, his brain is about to implode. Hwang Hyunjin being dense just feels like a metaphoric chokehold to him. 

“Y/N,” Hyunjin simply ignores his frustrated friend to look over at you slipping into your sneakers. “You’re being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal.”

“That’s because she’s about to either shut the door in my face then find Felix or kick my ass and then find Felix,” Seungmin informs with a yawn, and this prompts you to muster a fake smile. 

Oh, I’m fucking livid. 

“You know me too well.”

He questions with heavy irony, “I’m sorry did you just agree with me?”

“Oh no, no, I take that back,” you brush him off. “Is Felix still outside fishing?”

“I think so?” Hyunjin replies while running a hand through his hair in mere distress; Felix’s competitiveness goes a little mayhem sometimes when it comes to Jisung being better than him at something since they’re so close. That’s one of the sole reasons why Felix always manages to maintain his flying GPA because Han Jisung procrastinates like no other but still tops his class every single semester. 

“I didn’t find him at the lake, though, wonder where he went.”

You widen your eyes, somewhat alarmed since it’s almost lunchtime, and Felix Lee never, and you mean never, ever let himself skip a meal. He always gets a nice nap after stuffing his face with enough good food too, so that’s a bonus. But that’s not the point, the point is: you’re starting to get a little worried because he’s been fishing all morning, wandering alone in the wilderness without a camp counselor. 

You’d better not find him sleeping with the fishes. 

six.

Maybe you were right, maybe Felix is a dumbass.

Because listening to his ego and coming back to the lake after breakfast was a horrendous idea. 

It’s such a pity how those weird-looking vehicles have stopped driving around camp the moment it started pouring outside. Heck, he didn’t even bring an umbrella after asking the coach to check today's forecast. 

So tragically, he’s now stuck underneath the canopy of a cafe ensuing coursing his way through the water blizzard and seeking refuge but can’t walk back to his cabin where his cabin-mates are probably having the time of their life drinking hot chocolate and nibbling on hand-picked fruits.

Felix exhales in torment while gazing outside, everything’s completely white-out thanks to droplets of raining streaking the horizon. Perhaps dashing back might be his one solitary option, but shivers soon run up his spine again, reminding him that he’s probably looking like a wet rat—his black Converse sodden, water seeping through the thin fabric of his uniform, numbing his skin. 

Ruffling his wet fringe, Felix’s hand fishes inside his pocket to look for his phone only to realize that it’s not there. “Shit...great..just great, today is my lucky day.” Even if the camp counselors didn’t confiscate all the electronic devices, there wouldn’t be any service in the middle of the woods either. Splendid. 

“Ugh, Y/N,” he groans under his breath. “Why did you let me do this?”

“Shit.”

 “AHH!”

Felix shrieks upon the tiny voice squeaking out from behind him. And he sighs in pure relief to see a little girl standing mere inches away, looking no more than a seven-year-old dressed in a yellow raincoat. “Hey kid,” he chuckles and crouches down to her eye level. “Where are your parents? You’re not supposed to be out here alone when it’s pouring like crazy.” 

And to his dismay, “Shit,” the little girl giggles, finding a new profound interest in the curse word that he accidentally spewed out seconds ago. 

“Shh shh,” Felix frantically places an index finger on his lips while darting his eyes around in terror—he might be sued if her parents found out how their daughter picked up a bad word from some random high schooler. Suddenly he feels bad for his future kids. “No, no, we can’t say that. It’s forbidden. What’s your name?”

“Mina,” she answers cutely and fiddles with the ends of her braids. “Who’s Y/N? Is she your girlfriend?”

Felix chokes on his own saliva. “...no, why would you say that?”

“I don’t know, my dad always calls my mom’s name when he messes things up.”

“What does that have to do with- oh, shit,” he facepalms himself. This kid is going to give him a cardiac arrest any second now. “It doesn’t matter if she’s my girlfriend or not, what matters is I need to get you back to your parents. Do you know where they are right now?”

Mina simply shakes her head with a pout. “Okay, let’s go find them then,” he can’t help but cracks a smile, ruffling her hair endearingly. Most kids would be bawling their eyes out by now knowing that they’ve strayed from their parents; she’s a tough one. 

Felix gently grabs Mina’s hand, biting down on his lower lip as he prays that a cold doesn’t catch up to him tomorrow and ready to dash out of the canopy that’s been keeping him dry for the last hour or two. But then a figure comes into view from afar, holding an umbrella while squinting their eyes through the thick streaks of rain. 

“Y/N..?” he mutters to himself in disbelief when you quickly skip underneath the canopy, collapsing the red umbrella in your hands. Felix recognizes that umbrella anywhere—isn’t that Hyunjin’s? Have you been looking for him? And for how long too?

“Didn’t even think about bringing an umbrella, smartass,” you say with a raised eyebrow. “Oh dear, who do we have here?” Before Felix can defend himself in vain with lame excuses, you’ve already taken your attention off him to stare at the unfamiliar presence. Your intense gaze scares Mina a little, causing the little girl to squeeze Felix’s hand, hiding behind his leg. 

Your friend laughs, patting her little head in reassurance. “Mina, this is Y/N, my classmate. Don’t let her intimidate you.”

“Are you really going to bother with this little one?” you scrunch your nose a bit. “We’re having pork rib soup, by the way, better hurry if you don’t want Han to hog your portion all to himself.”

Felix rolls his eyes at how utterly apathetic you are towards children. If you can get a perfect A in calc then why is it so hard to simply comprehend that every twelve-year-old needs to be returned to their hypothetical parents safely? “What part of ‘a common sense of morality’ can’t you understand?” 

“I don’t want to, actually, sounds like a lot of work,” you hum sarcastically. 

“Your girlfriend is scary,” Mina ensconces herself further behind your friend, officially detecting you as a threat rather than someone who will potentially bring her back to the cabin where her parents are probably flipping the whole place upside down in a panic—which is exactly what you’re planning to do. 

In your defense, you don’t detest kids in general. Only the bratty ones. And Mina is borderline bratty. 

“You know, I can spare her some time, Lost and Found is like..ten minutes away from here.”

“Y/N-” Felix wants to scream at you, rubbing the side of his temple in distress. Imagining you babysitting your neighbor’s newborn last summer with nine bucks per hour, ten hours per day, and five out of seven days per week is one of the few things that constantly keeps him from having a good night's sleep. It baffles him how you haven’t accidentally drowned the infant while giving her a bath. 

Mina gives the side of his jeans a tug, round eyes staring up at him expectantly. “Or we can get juice pops!” she exclaims happily and looks over to you, mustering her best puppy eyes. “Please? I don’t want to be alone..” 

“Twenty seconds ago, you called me scary and now you’re guilt-tripping me?” you crouch down to get a good look at the kid. Bright, innocent brown eyes, cute button nose, and a chipped front tooth—perhaps she’s a little too cute to not get her juice pops. 

Then, “And juice pops too? You evil mad mind genius,” you say after standing up to unfold Hyunjin’s umbrella, swinging it over the top of your head. “That’s extortion, kid, you’re too young for that.”

Felix breaks into a fit of giggles upon seeing you failing at trying to keep a straight face and steps in beside you under the umbrella. His next problem just pops up right then and there—Mina can’t squeeze in considering the umbrella that Hyunjin gave you is solely used for one person. 

“Mina, hop on here,” he decides to get on his knees, permitting the little girl to clumsily climb on his back and eventually plopping herself onto his shoulders. 

“Oh, oh, oh, can you two hold hands?” Mina suggests with a shit-eating grin on her face. This causes Felix’s cheeks to burn with a bright shade of red while you’re too busy throwing daggers at her with your eyes to notice. “My family does this all the time, my dad would carry me on his shoulders and my mom would hold his hand as we walk home after going to the park.”

You and Felix yell simultaneously, “We’re not your parents!!” But that doesn’t seem to scare the little girl. You’re both just encouraging her. 

“Yip yip, horsey, don’t be disobedient now,” she giggles to herself and pulls at a solid patch of Felix’s hair, making you cringe because his hair and scalp have already had enough from his questionable obsession with bright hair colors. 

“Ow! Mina! Stop it! Ow!”

“Okay quit torturing my friend,” you tell her and decide to slip your hand in with Felix’s, intertwining your fingers to secure the grip before showing it to Mina so that she’ll stop before any blood is drawn. “There, we’re holding hands just like your mommy and daddy, you happy?” 

Felix doesn’t say anything even when Mina nods happily, releasing her monstrous grip off his poor scalp. He only lets you tug him away from the canopy of the cafe as he gazes downward, eyes glued to how your hand fits into his perfectly. The sound of rain tapping against the umbrella suddenly bugs him, suffocating him in a way. In other words, it’s really unnatural to think this way about his best friend but he doesn't want you to let go at all. 

Everything seems to move faster when you’re holding onto his hand so certainly. Felix thinks you’re fully aware but try to fight off the voices that are taunting you to just drop it. And truth is, you can care less because your head is now far too fuzzy to focus on anything but the road ahead. 

You pray he doesn’t feel the pounding rhythm from your veins. If your red ears haven’t given it away already. 

seven.

Jisung has weird friends, that’s a fact. And no, you’re not talking about the gang that saved his ass every time he got into trouble aka you plus JeongMinLixJin. You’re talking about those kids from Class 2C that are mutual friends with Changbin.

Because the moment Jisung barges into the cabin and starts babbling nonsense that you can’t comprehend (not that you can comprehend any of his shit on the daily), you know that he just came back from a get together with those sketchy dudes who managed to sneak some booze inside a shampoo bottle.

“Uhm okay, who gave Felix alcohol?” he squints his eyes hard. 

You are more than aware that Jisung is mildly smashed by the way that his cheeks are tinted with a light shade of coral, hiccupping every ten seconds and slightly more clumsy with his feet. He almost tripped over the rug at the front door if it weren’t for Hyunjin who caught him in time so that he wouldn’t break one of his precious teeth. Those painful years of constantly slurping on watery porridge after every dentist appointment to tighten his braces shouldn’t be going down the drain. 

Speaking of bland rice water, that’s all Felix has been fed with after returning to camp because he has no choice. The sickness finally caught up to him as a result of staying outside for too long while still dressed in his rain-soaked uniform. Even under the cotton comforter, he’s radiating heat on the outside but stoically shivering on the inside, his energy level is as diminished as his appetite. 

The nurse said there’s really nothing that can be done but give him some pills and let him ride it out so now Felix’s all curled up in a corner of his bed, cheeks burning flush of fever, coughing and sneezing occasionally. He refuses to be moved to a completely separate cabin because sleeping alone in a confined place knowing that the grizzly bears might be roaming outside your door is quite frightening for a junior in high school. 

“God, what makes you think I’m the batshit drunk one here?” Felix croaks, his voice more hoarse and gruff than usual because every word pains him, his vocal cords pulse in agony at each syllable. And that sentence was probably the longest thing you’ve heard from him since dinner. 

Jisung lets Hyunjin toss him onto his bed, face down, and props himself up on his forearms. “Uhh, have you checked yourself the mirror?” he hiccups, words a bit slurred, palms outstretched in a grabby motion. “Seungmin, water- ow! What the fuck was that!?” 

He rubs the side of his head while babbling incoherently like a fucking five-year-old because Seungmin decided to chuck a water bottle at him. Those years of playing baseball during retreats indeed paid off. 

“I went for the head,” Seungmin looks up from his book calmly, acting innocent. 

Jisung whines and turns to his side, watching as the water bottle rolls back towards him after coming in contact with the wall. “God, I miss Minho. You guys suck,” he takes it before sitting right up but flops himself back down when a pang of pain claws at his temple. Who even allowed him to drink?

“Didn’t he make your high school experience miserable?” Hyunjin laughs, sitting down on the corner of his bed, legs curled into his chest. 

“Hello? That was me,” Seungmin clarifies, he sounds a little offended. “He called me a nerd for studying late at the library for our finals! Our fucking finals! Do you know how insecure my freshman self was? I was so hurt!” 

You cross your arms and mumble, “He’s the same guy who treated you ice-cream after finding out you got a B in physics.”

Hyunjin hums, butting into the topic, “And he made me do fifty push-ups because I unintentionally skipped a day at practice. Our Dance Club really didn’t need a president who effortlessly snatches the Asshole of the Year Award like he’s stealing candies from a kid.”

“Please, you’re practically buddies now,” you scoff. “You always play Mario Kart and rewatch the Avatar series with him, even during midterms!”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Jisung suddenly gets on his feet, jumping up and down like a maniac. You’re highly concerned for the bed by the creaking sound that it’s making—sounds just like something straight out of a horror film. “He almost threw a knife at me!”

You’re running out of excuses to defend your stupid brother at this rate. What’s the point in trying anyway? “Han, it was a plastic knife, chill.”

Jisung crawls off his bed to approach you, pinching his thumb and index finger together before shoving them to your face. “I was this close to dying! You try having someone threaten to throw a knife at you during lunch break,” he complains like it’s the end of the world. Truth is, you’ve seen (and experienced) worse things. 

“Minho’s still my brother.”

Staring at you, Jisung looks unimpressed. “He wanted to kill me because I commented on his puffy cheeks that day.”

“He’s adopted.”

The conversation is pulled to a halt right there when Felix does a full-body groan, his head spinning and sweats starting to collect at his hairline. With his mind buzzed like he’s floating, the bickering only adds to the pressure that’s squeezing each of his functioning brain cells. In other words, it feels as though Han Jisung is a fucking hamster going on a marathon across his body, nibbling on his limbs and ears as he’s going through a hangover, his immune system going on a rampage. 

Felix doesn’t even drink. 

“That’s my call for a bedtime story.” You glare at Jisung when he clears his throat while you’re attempting to tuck Felix into bed, pressing your palm against his forehead to check his temperature. It’s not climbing anymore, he should be okay after sweating everything out. 

Hyunjin pulls his friend back onto his bed, locking his limbs in tight before he waddles around and potentially breaks one of those decorative pieces on the bookshelf. “Not to burst your ego, but I don’t think you’re sober enough to give us a good story,” he says unapologetically. 

“Puh-lease,” Jisung lets out the weirdest chuckle at that, wagging his forearm like those Japanese ceramic cat figures that are supposed to bring people good fortune; and Han Jisung is notorious for bringing people anything but good fortune. “They didn’t even have vodka, only Strongbow. That shit is too weak for me.”

You snort involuntarily, “Actually, I think you meant you’re too weak for those bottles of cider.”

“Wow, Y/N, what a snake.”

eight.

The bonfire crackles, flaring up to life when coach Kim tosses a lit matchstick into the pyramid pile of branches and woods. The flame projects long shadows of the trees all round along, swirling and curling in obscure shapes with the high schoolers that each hugs their own cup of hot cocoa, chomping on their marshmallows of choice. 

Glowing embers beneath are colored by the inferno that seems to be moving with the rhythm and melody of the song that they’re all singing along, drumming their feet and bobbing their heads simultaneously. 

“Are you guys sure you don’t want to join them?” Felix says apologetically after sneezing into a piece of tissue, his nose all red and swollen. “I can just… I don’t know, read a book or something.”

When he refers to those oddly colorful and rather bulky-looking books on the shelves, Seungmin immediately stops putting a cookie inside his mouth midway. “Those are called ‘aesthetically useless interior decoration’, Lix. Good luck trying to open those plastic blocks,” he expresses with his hands after stuffing the cookie into his mouth, chewing rather aggressively. 

Felix feels quite bad because, for all he knows, Hyunjin and Seungmin have been planning on going kayaking today and trying out volleyball tomorrow. You’re all going home in two days yet they’ve done nothing but pigging out in pure distress. “Still, it’s a summer camp, you all should be out there having fun, not stuck inside to look after me while tolerating...that,” he quietly looks over at Jisung who just exited the bathroom after splashing his face with some water. 

At least he doesn’t look crazy and homeless now. 

“How are they doing that again?” you join Hyunjin as he rests his head lazily on his forearms, staring outside from the cabin’s window like Rapunzel in an alternative universe where Flynn Rider managed to escape the tower with the crown, leaving her behind longing for civil human interactions in vain. 

“They sing..” he drawls. “And turn their heads to look at each other in the eye.”

You wave it off absentmindedly, falling on your back so now your head is hung upside down from the bed, your arms dangling midair. “Well, that sounds exhausting,” you mumble, ignoring the way that Seungmin is internally judging you. 

Hyunjin sighs, “Never one for sentiment, are you?”

“Easier to let it burn,” you answer flatly, sitting upright when blood starts rushing to your head. 

“Don’t feel bad,” Seungmin immediately forces a smile at Felix. “We’re not really into sitting with a bunch of idiots just to enjoy a mildly decent hot cocoa either way.”

Suddenly the lights go out, and Felix immediately curls himself further into the blanket, a little thrown off. Jisung’s face comes into view out of nowhere when he makes a grab for the oil lamp that no one seems to take notice of, lighting it up with a single match. “C’mon, kids, no bonfire is complete without a good ghost story,” he crosses his legs on the floor happily, still somewhat tipsy so his body is bouncing in excitement with occasional hiccups. 

Hyunjin and Seungmin exchange questionable looks before scrambling to the floor, settling themselves a few solid inches in front of the oil lamp with a sigh while you only shrug at Felix, propping your head onto your hands. Laziness is starting to hold you hostage on Hyunjin’s bed at this rate. 

Seungmin spares Jisung a slight glare, “Better not bullshit us with the same one that you heard at school-”

“No,” Jisung’s lips morph into something similar to a smirk, he looks concerningly confident for someone who’s utterly terrified after watching IT. And now he’s attempting to give his bros who are equally jumpy about everything and anything, you’re excited to see how this goes. “I heard this one from a camp counselor, true story.” You definitely don’t like the sound of that.

At first, the ghost was no more than a chill in the air, a shimmer of mist to the common eyes. Through the heavy rain and fog that seeps through people’s skin, chilling the core of their bones, it slowly came into focus. It wasn’t until the camper found refuge under a canopy of an abandoned café that it congealed into a form—a small child with brilliant round eyes, dressed in white clothing. 

For a moment, all was silent and still. It was as though the camper got hypnotized, feet planted to the ground. Then, he could hear a small lullaby in a cheerful voice. 

“Oranges and Lemons say the bells of St.Clements…” They know how that one ended. 

Suddenly someone blows out the candle, but Jisung’s voice still rings in your eardrums. “When the camper took a step back, the ghost spoke again, this time with the voice almost of a smoker and grin…” You can feel Hyunjin hop back to bed with you in a tick of a clock, holding onto you for dear life with the infrequent whimpers of fear. 

Jisung proceeds to continue, “The grin soon became a snarl, baring teeth like a wolf when it finished the lullaby…”

A muffled silence descends. And, “Have you come to play…?”

“AHHH!!” Felix lets out a petrified shriek, but what confuses you is the sound of Jisung grunting rather in pain. Seungmin sighs in disapproval, flickering the lights on while leaning back against the wall. 

And now before your eyes is a slightly traumatized, feverish Felix with clattering teeth, quivering inside his blanket. Whereas, Jisung is sprawled across the floor, hugging his poor stomach, hacking up lungs. Deserve.

“This is why you don’t give people who can high-kick jump scares, dumbass,” Seungmin comments and crouches down in front of Jisung like his knight in shiny armors, letting a bottle of ointment dangle between his fingers. “Put this on, bet it’s already bruising.”

Hyunjin releases his arms around you and walks towards the freckled boy who looks like he’s about to slip into a coma. “Lix, are you okay?” he knits his brows together, starting to feel somewhat concerned. 

Felix only waves it off with a raspy laugh, standing on wobbly legs with his blanket still wrapped around his figure. “I’m fine, I’ll just go wash my face.” Truth is, he’s anything but fine. And it doesn’t help when he accidentally has a glance of his own reflection in the body-length mirror from across the cabin—his hair is sticking to his forehead, his face is slightly more puffy than usual, and his eyebags look like he hasn’t slept in decades—he looks worse than a trash can, basically. 

“Hyunjin,” you raise a brow at your friend’s current state.

“What?”

“Catch him.”

“Huh-” Hyunjin snaps his head back when a loud thud is heard, eyes growing twice as big in sheer panic upon the sight of Felix laying on his stomach, mere inches away from his feet. “Felix!!” Your friends rush to his side while you’re too busy checking the thermometer by his nightstand. The temperature doesn’t seem to be too alarming, he should be fine after sleeping and sweating it out. But really, Felix looks more like he’s having the nap of a lifetime rather than passing out from the worst fever of the century. That doesn’t stop everyone from freaking out, unfortunately. 

Also, everyone can agree that this is the first and last storytime to ever happen.

nine.

Felix sits on the beach, eyes moving from sand to stone, from rock pools to breaking waves. He lets out a sigh, an exhale of relief when a breeze passes by him, tousling his hair as he buries his feet deeper into the primrose-colored grains. The briny aroma that exists in every fiber of air makes him feel at ease, as though unknotting all his angsty-teenager worries with grace. He feels a bit better, partially because his fever has already gone down when he shook you out of your half-asleep state at four in the morning. 

“Why?” you ask without turning your head after sensing his tense posture.

Felix looks confused, a little startled when you break the silence. “Why what?”

“Why the long face?” you unknowingly exhale too, stubbornly gazing forward. “Thinking about something?” For some reason, you’re too...scared to even spare him a small glance. This isn’t you, did his fever rub off on you or something?

To your dismay, his sudden inquiry catches you off guard. “High school is going to be over in a year, have you thought about what to do?” 

You open your mouth to protest with something along the line of he’s overthinking again and there’s still an entire year ahead to make new memories but when you’re about to utter the first word, your mouth automatically snaps itself close. It’s like you have an entire masterpiece planned out in your mind but when someone tosses you a blank canvas, you’re standing there in defeat like the biggest idiot. Felix is serious this time, you know it’s not because he’s lightheaded after riding out the fever. 

“Honestly?” you breathe out. “No, I haven’t. God, I don’t even want to think about it, the future scares me a little.”

Upon the mossed rock and vibrant horizon, comes the sun rays that are promised by the starlit sky. It makes you both a little breathless, not exchanging a single word nor moving a muscle for a while. 

Until, “Fine, it scares me a whole lot,” you confess, gaze cast downward as you hug your legs closer to your chest. “It sucks because everyone seems to have their lives together, Jisung is finally taking his interest in music seriously, Hyunjin is planning on being an actual theater kid, and Seungmin is...I don’t know, but he’s definitely onto something. Point is, everyone is already one too many steps ahead of me, I’m just..here, stuck. And I don’t feel like I have-”

“A lot of time left.” Felix finishes your sentence, prompting you to look at him this time. His delicate features shine under the cracking lights of dawn, starry eyes twinkling and lips outstretched into the smile that you absolutely adore. He has such a contagious type of smile that it makes you feel a little less dead inside whenever you see it. But your heartbeat also grows a little more ecstatic. 

A hearty chuckle. “You’re not alone, you know,” he says while not breaking away from the eye contact, this makes your throat grow dry. “I still have so much to do, so much to...say yet too little time. So yeah, don’t think about it too much, I’m never gonna leave you behind no matter what.”

You have to hold back a playful scoff at that; and to think he was the one who brought up this sappy topic. “If anything, you’re the overthinker in this relationship,” you tell him with a nudge on his rib. “But if you’ve already had my back, then you should know that I’ll always have yours too.”

Because what would you do without an overthinker like Felix? Drowning your sorrow by stress-eating in the middle of the night? Bottoming out on questionable drinks to end up like Han Jisung? Winging every single important choice that can potentially flip your life upside down in either a good or bad way? Not in a million years. He knows that you need him as much as he needs you, harsh truth but you still hate it either way.

You both don’t look forward to the future, like at all. 

You’re too apathetic and overall just a big ‘meh’ about it. You’re the type of person that goes with the flow, letting life toss you around like a ragdoll until you finally snap at some point to fight back because you know where the line between giving up and knowing that you’ve had enough is. Meanwhile, Felix is rather anxious about things. If a piece of paper with a pencil can draw out the map of his entire destiny ahead then he’ll have it finished in one night. But he’s grown out of his middle school self to know that things don’t always go as planned.

Guess if things turn out to be shit, you’ll still have him.

“Does that mean if we’re still single in our thirties, you’ll marry me like how our parents always joke about?” Felix cracks a shit-eating grin this time, one that makes your heart swell but for the most part, you wanna whack him unconscious with a pillow. 

You sneer in return, “Sure, but you’ll have to fall for me first.”

There’s a pang in Felix’s chest, it’s so loud and evident that he’s afraid you might hear it. You really didn’t have to slap him in the face with that seemingly harmless statement. “Hmm, who would even fall for a stubborn hermit crab like you?” he jokes to hide the nervousness that’s crawling upon his spine. His ears are probably bright red right now. “Although...that wouldn’t be a problem with me.” Because he’s already fallen for you, a little too hard actually.

“What does that even mean?” you only hum after questioning his statement, nothing makes sense right now since you’re getting a little sleepy because a certain someone wanted to watch the sunrise which simply lasted for about two minutes after two(ish) hours of waiting.

“I don’t know,” Felix laughs before standing up, dusting the sand off of his jeans. “You go figure it out, smartass.” With that, he runs off with his Converses dangling between his fingers, leaving you dumbfounded in the middle of the beach like a total dimwit. Slowly, within those five seconds of making eye contact with your best friend again, his words zero in on you like a wakeup call. 

Urgently grabbing your sneakers, you chase after him. “Hey- wait! GET BACK HERE!” By looks of it, you’ve probably figured it out now. It’s not like he’s trying to be subtle either.

Felix feels like he just gained strength from spewing out that indirect confession, and it gives him a tiny ray of hope that he still has his entire youth before his eyes to tell you how he really feels. Or his whole life if you don’t start resenting him for crossing the line that no one dares talk about when they have a thing for their best friend. 

Either way, as long as Felix sees your presence side by side with him at every ups and downs, he’s home. 

[hedwigstalons]

High Expectations - Ch22

Next instalment of the military boys for you with WASP!Gordon and Air Force!Scott.  Lots of love and thanks to @willow-salix for putting up with my musings, moaning and general self doubt.

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Twenty-One

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Twenty-Two

The bar was dark and packed to bursting point.  Gordon nursed a juice while keeping half an eye on the door for Scott. It was probably just as well that the army had been allocated a different bar he reflected, he wasn’t sure many more bodies could safely squeeze into the already crowded space.  The US Army, buoyed by being on home turf, had scraped a narrow victory in the competition and the walk from the barracks had been accompanied by the sounds of celebration from across the base as the resident personnel decided to toast the victors.  In light of this the event organisers had decided it was perhaps wise to keep the visitors separate from their hosts, a winning team could get a little over enthusiastic in their celebrations, especially with an entire base full of compatriots on hand to buy them drinks.  It meant that the designated non-Army bar was crowded but at least Gordon knew he and Scott would definitely end up at the same place.  

Ordinarily he would be in the thick of the action after an event.  Before, the short time between the end of a competition and heading home had been one of the few points in his life when he was free of responsibilities and obligations and he usually took full advantage of the freedom.  His misspent youth could be carefully plotted out on a calendar in regimented bursts around his swimming commitments before the daily realities of training, school and looking after Alan kicked back in.  

Tonight he wasn’t in the mood for indulging in a few hours of hedonism, especially after Scott’s prior warnings about underage drinking and military police not making for a happy combination; it wasn’t worth risking his fledgling career for.  The more physical pleasures that often followed a competition were also off the cards in a shared dormitory of strangers.  Most of those present though didn’t fall under the state’s age restriction and the alcohol was flowing freely.  A glass thudded down on the table in front of him, slopping some of the contents onto the already sticky table.

“Get that down you, Tracy.  You earned it.”  The sound drew his eyes away from the door and back to the table of WASPs around him.  He hoped Scott would turn up soon, after the swimming was over he’d managed to avoid the cretins he’d had the misfortune of being thrown into the pool with but with everyone confined to one place there was no escape.  Not all of WASP fell into the obnoxious category but there were a few individuals that he was quite glad he’d be unlikely to cross paths with ever again.

“I’m good, thanks.”  He nodded towards his own glass, still half full of apple juice.

“Ah, c’mon, you’re off duty.”  An uncoordinated hand slapped him on the shoulder, jolting him forwards with the force of it.  WASP might not have won the competition but they hadn’t done badly and a sizable chunk of the points had come from Gordon’s success in the pool.  Points that were being celebrated with a few too many beers and a fair quantity of hard liquor.  “Lighten up a little.”  

The glass was shoved closer, nearly falling off the edge of the table into his lap.  He wasn’t too sure what was in it but it sure as hell wasn’t apple juice; from some of the sniggerings and mutterings and looking at who had supplied the drink he strongly suspected the glass contained a lethal mix for the sole purpose of getting him blind drunk.

“He said he’s fine.”  A hand reached down and covered the glass, dragging it away towards the middle of the table with a scraping sound.

Gordon looked up, then up further.  Scott towered over the table, exuding an air of command even during his down time.  Blue eyes were set into what Gordon clearly recognised as protective mode, his mouth thin and his jaw clenched, daring those at the table to challenge him.  Grateful though he was to have his brother finally show up he really didn’t need Scott to antagonise the rest of his team over one drink that he’d had no intention of touching anyway.

“Sorry folks, family reunion time.  I’m sure one of you can put that drink to good use,” he flashed a placating grin as he quickly stood up and stepped away from the table, drawing Scott away before tempers could flare.  Those that hadn’t been at the pool were looking a little bemused at Scott’s sudden arrival and departure which must have come across as fairly rude but Gordon could already feel the tension from the swimmers who had butted heads with his brother before and he was keen to avoid an argument.  “Do you have to rub everyone up the wrong way?” he asked when they were finally clear of the WASP delegation.

“They’re idiots, and drunk ones at that.”  Scott was in no mood to suffer fools, he’d had enough of that already for one day.

“I know, but you’re late and I didn’t really have anywhere else to wait.  And they aren’t all idiots, there’s just a few bad apples on the team.”

“If you say so.  What the hell was in that drink anyway?”

“No idea, but I had no intention of finding out.  I could have handled that by myself you know.”

“Sorry, I should have trusted you.” Scott at least had the decency to look a little shame faced, sometimes it was hard to remember that Gordon was no longer a kid and was capable of making his own decisions, usually the right ones. “I just know what it can be like, the military can be a bit heavy handed with the drink when it’s in the mood.  Speaking of which, do you mind if I grab a beer?”  

“Go for it,” Gordon shrugged, just because he was sticking to juice didn’t mean his brother had to.

Scott gave a grateful nod and worked his way towards the bar, his movements still stiff and tense.  He ordered a beer and knocked the whole lot back in record time before leaving the empty bottle on the counter top.

“Jeez Scott, is everything okay?” The ferociousness with which Scott attacked the drink had surprised Gordon and he sensed that Scott’s mood wasn’t just down to his encounter with the WASP team.  The man before him certainly wasn’t the carefree brother he’d enjoyed sparring against just a few hours earlier.

“I’m fine.  Can we get out of here?” the tone suggested Scott was anything but fine.

“Sure,” he nodded, following on in Scott’s wake as they made their way to the exit.  Once they reached the cool night air Gordon tried again, it was clear from Scott’s bearing that something was bothering him.  “Now are you going to tell me why you’re storming round like a thunder cloud?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit, Scott.  You show up late looking like you’re spoiling for a fight then knock back a drink at mach 3.  You either tell me what’s going on or I’ll set Virgil on you.”  

Scott grimaced but he could tell from Gordon’s expression that he was deadly serious.  At least Gordon was likely to have some understanding and sympathy whereas with Virgil he risked being subjected to an anti-military guilt trip and he definitely wasn’t in the mood for that.  Normally his immediate younger sibling would be his sounding board but on this their opposing views were likely to be a stumbling block, no matter how well intentioned his brother's counsel might be.

“Not here,” the area immediately outside the bar was busy with people taking a break from the heat and crowds inside and there were a few too many Air Force personnel around for his liking, “let’s take a walk.”

They headed off into the darkness, their subconscious steps leading them by mutual consent towards the nearby athletics track.  The bleachers were empty in stark contrast to the crowds of the previous day and the whole area was shadowy with just a few security lights illuminating the gates.  They settled onto the hard planks and took a few moments to just sit quietly in the darkness.

It was Gordon who cracked first, the slumped shoulders and stony expression worn by his brother were still a cause for concern.  Scott looked tired and not just in the purely physical sense.

“So spill, how come you were so late tonight?”

“Just had to deal with some stuff from my CO.”

“Still not gelling with the new guy?”  He had been treated to a few choice words in the past about Scott’s thoughts on his Commander and they were far from complimentary.

“Not that new anymore.  But no, he still doesn’t trust me to lead my unit and questions my every decision.  I guess the feeling’s mutual though.”

“How so?”

“His orders are...urgh.”  He dropped his head into his hands for a moment, his fingers carding through his hair in agitation, before straightening and gazing unseeingly over the empty track.  “My last mission, it was a complete disaster.  Pretty much everything I predicted would happen, did, but when I tried to talk to him about it before we flew out I just got shot down,” there was a heavy pause, “just like two of my unit,” Scott muttered darkly.

“Ouch,” Gordon winced.  “I didn’t hear about that; must have been reported while I was on the subs, it can be hard to keep up with the news down there.”

“It wasn’t reported.  The whole mission was top secret, even the guys’ families think they were on some training exercise that went wrong.  Look, I really shouldn’t be telling you any of this.”  He turned towards Gordon and even in the darkness the silent plea could be seen.

“Understood,” Gordon tried to reassure him.  He knew there would probably be times in the future when he needed to speak to someone outside of the service despite it being against orders and if you couldn’t trust family, who could you trust?  “Whatever you say goes no further.”  This moment was between him and Scott, one serving brother to another, and he could feel his shift in status from dependent child to equal.

“Thanks.” The quiet nod that accompanied it conveyed a depth of feeling that showed just how much Scott was dealing with.  “You always hear rumours about the secret stuff and you think it’s going to be all exciting, but the reality is...it’s bad.  This isn’t what I joined up for.  The guys from my unit weren’t the only casualties either, there were civilians in the area, innocent people who had no choice in all this.  Collateral damage is how my CO referred to them, callous bastard.”

It was the first time Scott had spoken to anyone outside of his immediate unit about the mission and the relief at being able to criticise the orders without reprimand was palpable.  He’d been on the other side of this conversation a couple of times as some of the men and women who served under him had felt the need to talk but he’d always been the listening ear and had always been required to respond on party lines, that the sacrifices were worth it for the bigger picture, despite his desire to scream that he’d thought it was a fool's errand and that he hadn’t wanted to lead them into danger.  But none of them had been given a choice, it was a case of fly or be court martialed.  Now, with the lives of those who trusted him on his conscience, he wondered if court martial would have been the better option. 

Gordon sat in silence, realising that what his brother really needed was someone to just listen as he worked through his own thoughts.  His own meagre service history, still in the early stages, had him completely devoid of experience in the field of combat and the moral minefield it could evidently come with.  In the deep shadows of the stands Gordon could almost feel the ghosts that haunted his brother's memories, turning the figure that was normally a poster boy for patriotism into a hunched and brooding shell that looked far older than his twenty-six years.

As if sensing the scrutiny his brother was subjecting him to Scott mentally shook himself and straightened.  The doubts and worries were locked away again as he visibly morphed back into older brother mode; strong, dependable and emitting a feeling of self-assurance.  He might have let his guard slip for a moment but he had worn the mantle as head of the pack for too many years to be comfortable showing such vulnerability for long.  He was already doubting the wisdom of telling anyone about his problems but the call from his CO earlier in the evening had left him angry which always clouded his judgement.  Venting had helped a bit and he was grateful that Gordon had been there, listening without judgement in a way that their father or Virgil never could.

“So what’s this posting of yours?” He asked, flipping  the focus back to  Gordon.  “You said in the ring you wouldn’t have any time for training.”  

It was a clear sign that any conversation about the Air Force and Scott’s thoughts towards it was over.  The walls were back up and Gordon knew that, despite that momentary show of vulnerability, any further probing wouldn’t be welcomed.  It was troubling just how much Scott was affected, biggest brother had always been so confident, but tonight Gordon had seen a side he’d never been privy to before and he wondered how many other times Scott had worn the mask to protect the rest of them from his doubts.  

Much as he wanted to help Scott he really didn’t know how and he still had his own problems to unpick.  Now it was his turn to be in the spotlight.

“No, I think my sporting activities are going to be on hold for a while.  Um, I’m being given command of a craft.”

“You’re getting a Merlin? You really must have impressed them during the training to get your own sub so quickly.”  Scott couldn’t help but feel a flush of pride at Gordon getting that level of recognition so early on in his career.  Really Gordon should have been bouncing at the news so to see him so flat and brooding was a worry and he wondered what the problem was.  “You had to know it was coming at some point, commanding a unit is kinda the deal with being an officer.”

“S’not a Merlin, it’s a bathyscape.  I go in a little under a month.”

“A bathyscape?  I didn’t even know WASP had those.”

“Yeah, it’s a research posting; unlike the Air Force, WASP isn’t all about combat missions y’know.  I’ll be out there for a whole year, looking at underwater farming methods.”

Scott whistled, as first assignments went it was a big one but perhaps not in the direction Gordon had been hoping to take; his brother has made no secret of wanting to get a place on the sleek and fast Stingray, the whole point of volunteering for the Merlins was as a stepping stone to this, and a research bathyscape was the polar opposite.   “That’s a long time, is that what the problem is?  At least you know your way around a farm, or was a sea tractor not quite what you had in mind as your first mission command?  You don’t sound too excited about it all.”

“It’s not a sea tractor,” Gordon snorted at Scott’s abysmal attempt to lighten the mood.  “I know underwater farming might not be everyone’s bag but I’ve been really enjoying the oceanography and marine biology parts of my training.  I think that’s partly what got me picked for it.  A whole year is a bit longer than I was expecting but this is a big deal.  This project could really make a difference and I’ll be leading a sizabe team so it’s an honour to be chosen.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming on.”  Despite everything he was saying there was a distinct lack of excitement from the aquanaut.  

“It’s the whole research element.  The project is joint with CalTech and I’ll be sending our findings on to their marine biology team.”

“What difference does that make?”

Gordon tried to meet Scott's eyes but couldn't, nervous about whatever reaction he might get to the news he hadn't yet been brave enough to voice.  Compared to the issues Scott was facing this seemed minor in comparison but it was still giving him sleepless nights.  His stomach churned, the butterflies inside him evidently practicing backflips or something.  He hadn't told anyone about this, not even Virgil, but he trusted Scott to give an objective opinion and be honest with him.

“Well, most officers have been to university.  It turns out that they like those of us who haven’t to get qualified on the job.  Part of the deal with CalTech is that the research papers can count as course credit.  If I study for a few extra units while I’m down there then by the end of the year I could earn a higher ed diploma.”

“That’s great news.”

“Is it?  My CO is talking like it’s a done deal but I’m really not sure.”

“What’s not to be sure about?”  

“This is me, Scott.  The family screw up.  Part of the reason I’m even in WASP is cos you finally got Dad to see sense that I wasn’t cut out for College.”

“You are not a screw up!” Scott exclaimed, cross that even now their father’s past needling about Gordon’s academic abilities was still able to drag his brother down; sure he wasn’t in the same league as John but then very few people were and it didn’t mean he wasn’t bright in his own right.  “Now you listen up.  I didn’t go against Dad cos I didn’t think you could hack college, I did it because I could see you’d make a damn good aquanaut.  You’re made for the submarine service but that doesn’t mean you’re incapable of anything else.”

“But studying at undergrad level, it’s going to be a lot of work.”  

“Gordon, you work harder than pretty much anyone else I know.  You certainly worked harder at school than the rest of us,” he took in the raised eyebrows that framed a look of pure skepticism.  “I mean it.  You might not have got top grades but your marks were still good even though some of the subjects didn’t come naturally and you did all that around your swimming and Alan.” 

Gordon scuffed at the planks, his fingers absentmindedly attacking a stray splinter in the wood as the empty seat on his far side suddenly became very interesting.  Scott seemed to believe in him but he just couldn’t summon up that same faith in himself.  “But what if I fail?  I don’t think I can do it.”

There, he’d said it.  Ever since he’d been called in by his commanding officer and given the details of the posting the study element had been dragging him down like a millstone.  He’d realised pretty early on, even during selection, that he was the odd one out, underqualified compared to most officers.  What he hadn’t realised was that WASP would not only support him to gain a degree but it was assumed that he would be taking on this learning as a matter of course.  From that moment on the gnawing dread had been eating away at him.  He enjoyed the study topics and he’d proved himself worthy of the command element of the posting but instead of looking forward to the opportunity all he could think about was the impending failure because he couldn’t foresee any other outcome.

“Look at me, Gords.  You aren’t going to fail.  It’s a diploma of higher ed, right?” Gordon gave a slight nod of confirmation.  “That means it’s first year stuff and I know that when it comes to the ocean you’ve got that more than covered.  What you’re going to be missing is the general skills and for those you can always ask the rest of us for help.  John has written more scientific papers than is healthy, Virgil can generally spot any flaws in logic even if it’s not his subject and I’ve done so much Harvard referencing I could probably do it in my sleep.”

“Harvard?  But you went to Yale.”  

“Harvard referencing is how you say what books and papers you used to write your assignments.”

“See, this is what I’m talking about,” Gordon groaned, kicking out at the bench in front, “I don’t know any of this stuff.”

“It’s alright,” Scott slung an arm round Gordon’s shoulder, wishing there was some magic pill he could give his brother to dispel the self doubt.  Gone was the confident aquanaut, even the thought of returning to study had Gordon regressing to the kid who worried each term if his report card would meet the lofty ideals of the father who demanded so much.  “No one knows this stuff at the beginning and there is no shame in that.  Normally you would get a load of seminars at the start of your course but that’s going to be a bit tricky if you’re underwater.  I don’t know how it will work with you doing it through WASP but CalTech should give you some support and if they don’t then you’ve got three older brothers who have all been there.  One of us will always be available to talk you through it, not that I think you’ll need any help.”

“You really think I can do this?”  He pulled out of the hug and stared at his brother as though trying to gauge his honesty.  The way Scott was talking he made it sound so simple.  

“I’m sure you can.  But if you get stuck with anything don’t brood on it, just ask.”

“Yeah, I can really see that one going down well.”  Gordon rolled his eyes, remembering the last time he’d attempted to ask for homework help.  “John already thinks I’m an idiot.”

“No one thinks you’re an idiot, Gords.  I know John can be a bit...acerbic at times but he’s mellowed since he left Harvard.”  Scott made a mental note to have a quiet word with the would-be astronaut; for most things the word ‘can’t’ was just a challenge to Gordon, something to be proved wrong, but when it came to anything academic Gordon was evidently still plagued by crushing self-doubt.  The last thing he needed was for a disparaging comment from the family genius to send Gordon spiralling.  It was true John had been a lot more approachable since starting at Tracy College, living with Virgil and having Alan as a frequent visitor seemed to be grounding him more in family life, but he could still be a bit abrupt if you caught him at the wrong moment.

“If I do this can you promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?”

“Please don’t tell Dad, I really don’t need him breathing down my neck about grades.”

“Promise.  Dad won’t hear a word about it until you’ve got that certificate in your hand.”

The sigh of relief was audible in the still night air as Gordon released some of the tension that had been knotting his insides.  Sat there with Scott, being given assurances that his brothers would be on hand if he needed them, he felt a lot more confident about the whole thing.

[remys-lucky-franc]

Reward - A Queen of Thieves Fic:  Leon x MC (Daisy)

Word Count: ~1600

Rating:  To be safe I'll say Adult as this is a little bit naughty.  It's not like terribly graphic or explicit or anything - but err on the side of caution I guess!  

This was an idea I had based on a drabble prompt I'd written for another fandom and I thought it could be switched up a bit and might be fun for these two -  and I think it works :)   This picks up after the cliff-hanger ending of Leon's 3rd season <3

Daisy fixed an encouraging smile on her face.  

After Leon's hospital appointment a couple of weeks ago, he had been cleared to get back to 'normal'.  After the shooting he'd a few days under observation before being sent home to heal from the surgery removing the bullet that had torn through his torso and punctured his lung.  He'd been very lucky really, considering the horrifying possibilities of what could have happened that night...  Those didn't bear thinking about.  

Leon was feeling much better than he did in the immediate aftermath, but unfortunately after six weeks of prescribed rest and healing, without being allowed to lift anything heavier than a kettle, Leon's normal, incredible strength, fitness and muscular physique had taken a  hit.  Before he'd been discharged from hospital, their Physiotherapist had visited him to show him a range of breathing exercises to help strengthen his lung and chest again and he'd performed them religiously before he was allowed to do any real physical exercise again.  He'd been delighted when he was given the okay, but in the space of that two weeks, his mood had taken a dip.  The problem was, initially even going for a walk around the block was enough to wind him:  Leon had spent his whole adult life in tip-top physical condition and he was finding this really hard.  Right now he was pretty much as low as Daisy had ever seen him.  Even though he'd adhered to the physio's instructions to the letter, progress towards getting back to normal was painfully slow for Leon:  Daisy knew he was expecting wonders overnight - and after what happened that night in his bedroom?  Well, she was scared that he was being completely unrealistic...

As had become their routine, Daisy sat at the desk sketching, keeping Leon company while he went through the motions.  He was in the middle of the bedroom floor bare-chested in a pair of dark sweatpants.  She'd half-watched him work his way through a bunch of calf raises and squats using free weights, and Daisy had to admit, the large dumbbells he was holding?  She wouldn't be able to lift them uninjured!  Before his injury, Leon always enjoyed exercising.  Daisy would always smile when she watched him work out - the sheen of sweat on his skin, the determined glint in his eye as he pushed himself harder and harder, consistently making gains.  But since that night exercise seemed to dull his mood and dampen his enthusiasm.  Every day he struggled to get through the routine.  Every day she watched his veins bulge, his jaw clench and his muscles shudder as he dug deep to get a fraction of the results he'd have achieved easily a few months earlier...  And every day Daisy could see him get more demotivated because it wasn't getting any easier.  

As he sat down the weights between sets of shoulder presses, Leon let out a sigh that he sounded like he'd been holding in for a lifetime.  Daisy bit her lip as she looked across at him,

"You doing ok, Leon?"  

He shook his head, a hand raking through his dark hair, voice totally dejected,

"Daisy, I don't know if I'm ever going to get back to normal.  These weights are a third of what I was lifting before...  This is...  It hurts...  And...  I-"

His hands covered his face as he stopped talking.  Daisy stayed silent for a few moments as she watched on, concerned and unsure whether he was ready to cry or scream in frustration.  

By the time Leon uncovered his eyes, Daisy was standing right in front of him.  He smiled softly down at her, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.  Daisy reached up, stroking his cheek tenderly,

"Shoulder presses are the worst one, right?"  

Leon nodded as he took her small hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it before he stooped to pick the dumbbells up for a second set,

"These, and press ups."  

Daisy moved to the side, giving him a little space, watching as he cracked his neck from side to side and set his stance in preparation.  He inhaled deeply and then exhaled as he steadily pressed the dumbbells overheard, then back to down to shoulder height, then repeated the motion, a rhythmic 2:2 count.  When he got to the eighth rep, Daisy could see the vein in his neck begin to raise and the intake of his breath become ragged.  The exertion was written across Leon's his face, sweat starting to bead as he gritted his teeth and pushed through the pain to twelve reps.  As he sat the weights down and mopped his forehead, Daisy wondered how he was going to manage a third set, then a round of press ups...

Her heart sank as she watched him struggle through that final set before sinking to the ground: this was the same man who got stabbed protecting his friends in the Underbelly of Paris and shrugged it off as though it had been nothing more than a scratch.

'There must be something I can do to make this easier for him?  I hate seeing him like this...'

Leon got himself into the press-up position, cranking out ten laboured presses before coming to a grinding halt, huffing out a frustrated breath,

"If I could see some progress, maybe this wouldn't feel like a complete waste of time.  I just feel like I'm putting in all this effort, and getting no reward."

A lightbulb went off inside Daisy's brain as he spoke, a sly grin spreading across her face, eyebrow arching at him,

"Twenty press ups?"

Leon eyed his girl with suspicion,

"Yeah.  Why?"

Daisy laughed,

"So ten more.  Keep going.  Don't mind me..."

Leon tore his eyes away from her, still suspicious, but saying nothing.  He was sore.  His muscles felt like lead and his chest burned.  He could barely focus on the exercise he was suppose to be doing because of the fatigue his body was feeling.  The next ten would undoubtedly be slower than the first ten.  He got back in position as Daisy tossed an earring in front of him, mouthing,

"Ten."

He paused, glancing at her as she tapped her foot with mock impatience,

"Come on.  Nine?"

Leon pushed his body upwards, muscles tensing, eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out the ache.  As he lowered himself back down, a 'clank' in front of him causing his eyes to fly open.  Daisy's other earring.  She let out a mini cheer and clapped her hands together.  Leon narrowed his eyes at his pretty fiancée as she winked at him mischievously,

"Next rep, Kwan, you've got this, come on..."

Leon braced himself as he moved into the third rep, concentrating a little less on the pain of the movement as he tried to work out what the hell Daisy was playing at.  Completing the movement, he watched Daisy saunter across to the window before pulling the band from her dark hair, shaking it like a mane as she tossed the band beside her earrings, murmuring,

"Eight...  Great job...  Keep going..."  

Leon took less recovery time before lifting into another press up.  The strain on his muscles clear as he breathed hard, eyes flitting to look back at Daisy giggling as she propped herself against the desk, pulling off one of her turquoise Converse and walking wonkily to close the space between them, dropping it into the ever-growing bundle of Leon's winnings...   A smile spread across Leon's face as he locked eyes with her, moving into the fifth rep without hesitation.

Daisy clapped her hands as she tossed her second sneaker into the pile,

"You're doing so well, Leon!"  

Watching him steel himself for the sixth round...  A sock was discarded...  Round seven, the matching sock...  On the eighth press up, Daisy stood in front of Leon as she untied the bow of her pink floral wrap dress, letting it slip silently from her shoulders onto the ground, feeling her face flush as Leon's dark eyes undressed her completely.  

Daisy raised her eyebrow at Leon as he continued to stare at her standing there in her cute blue bra and panties,  

"Number nine, don't give up now..."

She flipped her dark wavy hair behind her shoulders as she grinned down at her man,

"I know you can do this!"

Leon clenched his jaw as he raised an eyebrow and pushed hard through the penultimate rep.  Daisy smirked as she watched him:  he was sweating hard, and she was pretty sure from the way he'd just looked at her, it wasn't solely down to the exertion of the physical therapy...  Finishing the exercise, she giggled as Leon leaned up on his elbows with a devilish smirk on his face, pupils blown wide as they trailed from her eyes downward, settling on her curves.  She stepped closer, fingers trembling as she fiddled with the clasp on her bra.  She removed it slowly, teasing him as he groaned at the sight, making her giggle and toss the garment directly into his face.  

Leon stifled a laugh, shaking his head as he knocked the lacy bra that smelled of Daisy's perfume aside, digging deep, muttering,

"Last one."

His arms shook from the exertion as Leon moved through the last motion, listening to Daisy 'woop' and encourage him.  As he completed it, a peal of exhilarated laughter rose from Leon, breathing hard and rolling onto his back, propping himself on his elbow as he grinned up at Daisy.  She giggled as she twirled her hips a few times, teasing him before shimmying out of her panties, tossing them behind her and climbing into his lap as she purred,

"Now what was that about no rewards for your hard work?"  

[spooniemumoftwo]

This is me!

Have you ever heard of ME CFS? Do you know anyone with ME CFS? Have you ever heard the phrase ‘counting spoons’? 

Having read a huge number of blog posts on ME CFS over the past few years, this is my own answer to some of these questions. Please bear with me – this has been a work in progress for a while now.

Me – Could I have M.E?

As a teenager, and even recently, I never imagined that I would find myself writing about my experiences of life with a chronic illness, and yet, here I am. I am 33 years of age, a wife and mother to two beautiful children, and I have a diagnosis of Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (ME CFS). 

Over the past few years, I have come to realise that ME CFS is something you can’t fully understand or describe to someone unless you have the experience of this debilitating illness yourself.

Where do I start?

Over the last three years, there have been ups and downs; life has been interesting, and the learning curve I have found myself travelling on has been almost vertical at times. I am not there yet.

Back in Summer 2017, I woke one morning to find I had no voice at all. This was unusual for me but not the first time it had happened. Things had been busy and a little fraught with two small children, whilst I was also working almost full time, so I thought nothing of it. I now suspect, as do the consultants I have spoken to since, that this was my body’s way of fighting the Chicken Pox virus, as my youngest came down with Chicken Pox two weeks after I first lost my voice. A week without my voice went by, writing notes for my husband to ignore as he felt appropriate, and giving my children 'the look' instead of telling them what I was thinking, and I spoke to my GP who diagnosed me with Acute Viral Laryngitis, and prescribed me three weeks off work and TOTAL voice rest, much to my husband’s delight and amusement. Three weeks later I returned to work, having slept all day for at least two of the three weeks I’d had off work. I was shattered. I never imagined returning to work after only three weeks off would be that tiring, but I did it. I underwent a further six months of speech and language therapy sessions (ironic considering my own role as a speech and language therapist) to help me work on my returning voice and my worryingly limited breath support, something I had only noticed since losing my voice.

Nearly twelve months on, in April 2018, I found myself signed off work again, this time with suspected Labyrinthitis. I experienced dizziness on and off, and again, I slept for most of the time I was off work. I was finding it hard to put sentences together, and felt like my whole body was being held down by a weighted blanket. Three weeks off work again and then I returned to work and my usual routine, with a promise to myself to take things easier this time. The dizziness continued but not enough for me to be off work, so a referral to a cardiologist followed to check it was nothing cardiology related. A 24 hour ECG followed by a 32 day ECG test demonstrated nothing significant, and therefore this was put down as yet another symptom I had no answers or reasons for.

By August 2018, I realised I had spent the majority of the summer term in schools telling myself ‘if I can make it to the summer holidays, I will be okay’ and yet, there I was, at the start of the summer holidays, and I hadn’t allowed myself to slow down at all. I have always, even as a pre-teen and a teenager, worked towards the school holidays, and continue to do so as an adult. I recall, as a teenager, regularly sleeping for the first one or two days of a school holiday, or suffering with a cold and feeling generally unwell for the first few days after allowing myself to slow down or to relax, and yet, here I was, putting the same pressure on myself as I always had. This time, however, I did not allow myself to rest. I knew what would happen if I did.

August 2018 saw me celebrating my own mini achievements regarding my engagement in a Couch to 5K running programme. I have never been sporty, and running was my least favourite exercise. However, for some reason, in 2018, I decided I was going to make myself enjoy running! I soon found running gave me time to myself with my thoughts, (unless accompanied by one of my chatty little people who often wanted to go with Mummy on a run) and running was my 'me time'. I managed to complete my first ever continuous 20 minute run in the middle of August, a very small achievement for many, however for me this was huge! I was becoming a runner, or so I thought. I only ran once more that month, and haven't managed a run since…

The summer holidays passed by and at the end of August, we celebrated my eldest child’s 5th birthday. I will never forget the call we received first thing that morning, to tell us that my grandfather had sadly passed away in the early hours of the morning.  On my daughter’s birthday. I held myself together and threw all of my energy into celebrating my daughter’s special day. I was heart broken, and yet, as always, my children came first, and always will. The day after, we hosted a party for our daughter as we had planned. I could think of any number of places I would rather be, than hosting a children’s party, but for my children, ensuring they were happy, and maintaining the usual normality, especially things they had looked forward to, was essential. After we had cleared up, and the children had been put to bed, revelling in the excitement of the day, I took myself off to the gym, and pushed myself to run as far as I could.  I managed a 35 minute continuous run, telling myself “it was just for you, Grandad!'’ I was exhausted, mentally and physically. Running had allowed me time to myself to clear my head and my thoughts on many occasions prior to this, however that night, I was broken. I could do no more. My head hurt, my legs hurt, even my breathing was draining me.  I was done.

Two days later, I lost my voice again, and this time, I listened. I listened to what my body was saying, and started to put a few of the pieces together in my story. I have always pushed myself as far as I could push, but I was spent. Emotionally, and physically, I had nothing left. I spoke to my GP in view of my previous significant voice loss, and was instantly told to take some time off work to recharge and rest my voice. I reluctantly agreed to take a week off to recharge before going back to work.

A week later, at the start of September, I saw my GP, accompanied by a very good friend, to make sure I gave the facts and was honest about what was going on. We talked about everything. With the support of my friend, I listed all of the symptoms I had been experiencing, and yet not acknowledged, things I was finding difficult - sensitivities to light and noise, complete physical exhaustion, difficulties concentrating, poor spatial awareness - there can only be so many times a person can walk into the same photocopier in the same position on the same day. (My record was five times one day.) I described the difficulty I had in expressing myself and communicating with others at times, and my concerns about the slightly narcoleptic speed at which I could fall asleep and still feel totally unrested when I woke up, no matter how long I slept for. I raised my concerns and questioned whether I could possibly have some signs of ME CFS, however my GP said that at this stage, she did not feel I had ME, and that there were a huge number of reasons I was feeling as I was at that time. She was right about that, there had been a lot going on. I reluctantly left the doctor’s surgery with a certificate signing me off work for four weeks, and I was under strict instruction to rest completely, and not to return to work within the next four week period. I have never taken time off work willingly, other than for the usual expected absences due to the usual common illnesses, and therefore this went entirely against my work ethic. But this time, I had to - I was spent. I had no idea what was wrong with me, and how long it would last.  I was worried and totally exhausted.

A month later, I returned to my GP to try and persuade her I was ready to return to work. We talked about how the last month had gone, how I was feeling, and what my thoughts about work were. I tried to list the positives to show I was feeling better but what were they? I was sleeping all of the time other than when I had to be awake to do a school run, or to look after my children, which I had been doing mainly from the sofa whilst they amused themselves in my sight. I was finding it difficult to carry out simple and regular tasks such as showering, which left me incapacitated and lay on my bed for some time before I could continue with the day. Cooking and preparing meals were a challenge, as this involved me being upright for longer than was comfortable. Having a conversation on the telephone was exhausting, and yet talking to someone in person was strangely slightly easier. I was often disorientated and a slight change in plans left me confused. On really bad days, I frequently could not have a conversation without losing what I was saying, and found it difficult to think of the words I wanted to say. My mind went blank. None of this made sense. I was 31 years old and generally healthy. What was wrong with me? I sounded like I was making this up and began to doubt myself. My GP informed me that she had been thinking about me, and had spoken to a colleague of hers for some advice. She advised that after some thought, she felt a referral to a specialist in Chronic Fatigue may be worthwhile, as it was possible that some of my symptoms could be signs of ME CFS. That made me anxious. I had suspected that this may be the case for me for a while, but to hear a clinical professional confirm my suspicions and want to investigate further sent chills right through me. How and why was this happening? We agreed that I would be referred to the consultant specialist, and I left the appointment with another four weeks off work, and a hope that I would return to work after another month, IF my energy levels had increased sufficiently.

Another month later, I returned to my GP, and despite me still experiencing significant fatigue, I was desperate to return to work and some normality. My GP reluctantly agreed to a phased return to work which would be monitored closely by her. I returned to work, initially for two half days a week, with a view to being back to my normal thirty hours a week by the end of December. I was still exhausted. Each day was a huge challenge, but it felt so good to be back at work! I tried to take things as easy as possible, as I was mindful that I needed to read the signs and listen to what my body was saying. I didn't feel like the person I was before, and yet just being 'me' again, in my usual workplace was a tonic.

In February 2019, I saw a consultant specialist in chronic fatigue, accompanied by another amazing friend. We talked through everything, literally everything! For a whole two hours, we discussed things I was able to do and things I couldn't do. Things I enjoyed and things I didn't. We talked in detail about my childhood, family history and medical history. I was referred for a sleep study to rule out sleep apnoea, and was advised that if the results of this study were unremarkable, then yes, I would be diagnosed with ME CFS. Otherwise, the diagnosis would be sleep apnoea. I felt sick, but with support from my friend, my husband and my family, we talked things through. But there were still no answers.

I am so lucky to have an amazing family and so many loyal and caring friends around me who know me better than I know myself at times. I can't express my thanks to each and every single person who supports us. Those who are there for me, to listen, advise and give the best hugs, and those fabulous friends who just know what to say and do when its needed. Those who try to understand what's going on, and those who know me best! My amazing family and friends regulate me and aren't afraid to tell me what I need to hear, despite this often being the harsh reality that I can't see (or don't want to!). I am often told to rest and that I need to put myself first, but that's not how I work, or it’s not how I've worked in the past anyway. I know I unintentionally frustrate the people I am closest to with my stubbornness and drive, and my reluctance to 'give in or give up', and I am so grateful for the support of so many people.  

I finally received my appointment for my sleep study at home at the end of May 2019. I was shown how to fit the oxygen tubes, oxygen monitor and all the gubbins that go with it and was sent on my way. Honestly, the sleep study was not the best night of sleep I've ever had...it turns out I'm a little more claustrophobic than I thought I was. But, by the following morning, the test was done and the equipment was safely returned to the hospital. My pending diagnosis was in their hands now. I received a letter at the start of July 2019, to say that I didn't have sleep apnoea, so there it was. A diagnosis of ME CFS.  Mixed emotions flooded me...relief that I wasn't going to have to wear a mask to sleep, and yet dread at reading the words I knew would be in my next letter from the consultant! On 25th July 2019, my letter arrived in the post. It simply said 'I can confirm that this patient has ME CFS. I will refer her to the local ME service for support'.  I was numb. 

So many questions!

How will this affect my children? What will happen next? Where do I stand with work? Will I need help? What does the future hold? All these questions filled my head. Many questions remain unanswered even twelve months on from receiving this letter. With no cure or successful treatment for this, I felt a mixture of panic, sadness and dread and telling my husband the results we didn't want to hear was hard. How would I be able to be the wife and mother I so wanted to be with this chronic illness? My children are still so young. My husband didn't sign up for this! This all felt so unfair!

Since my diagnosis, I've been supported by the local ME CFS service and their advice has been invaluable. The learning we have done as a family about the illness, the symptoms themselves and life as we know it, has been intense. I am able to recognise some of my triggers and my responses, though these constantly change and have increased in severity lately, but my husband, family and close friends will agree that I'm still pretty rubbish at really listening. I cannot seem to take it all in.  I am on overload.  I am a giver naturally...I don't come first in my head. I think of everyone else before myself - my children, my family and my friends. That is just me.  But it wears me out.  

My children

When I was diagnosed with ME CFS, my first thought was not for me, but for my children. This is not how I imagined parenting my own children. I felt a huge sadness that this would mean they had to grow up more quickly, to understand things a young child shouldn't have to, and that we may not be able to do all the lovely things we did when I was a child. I made a promise there and then...ME CFS wasn’t going to stop me doing things with our children. Our promise to our children even then, was that they would come first and that my husband and I would get through this together. This is not my children’s problem, it is mine.

My husband and I agreed very early on, not to give our children the details but just to explain, when needed, that Mummy just needed to rest. This worked for a while and kept questions at bay. I recall one lunchtime when I had prepared a 'picky lunch' at the request of our three-year-old son. I had laid on the sofa while they ate and watched a film. My daughter, aged around five at the time, touched my arm gently and gave me a crisp she had found, saying “Mummy, please have this heart-shaped crisp. It will give you more energy”. Wow!! I'm not sure how I held the tears in...I was completely taken aback! Without telling her anything other than that Mummy was sometimes a bit tired, this little sensitive soul had put two and two together and made her own conclusions. I knew we had to tell her a bit more now, if anything, to make sure she wasn't making her own ‘wrong’ deductions. 

We have recently been introduced to a fabulous book which has been integral in our challenge of giving our children the facts they need whilst not giving them too much. This book, 'Supercharged Superhero' by Gemma Everson has been written to help children understand why a parent with ME may not be able to play all the time, and that they can have fun in different ways with their family. We love this book, and my children often ask if we can look at it again. We've spent many hours reading through the story, chatting about the pictures and thinking of our own ways to have fun which I can join in with too. Find out more about ‘Supercharged Superhero’ and get your own copy of this gorgeous book.

The Journey so far – September 2020

My journey through diagnosis and learning to adapt so far has been uphill. There have been some huge changes I've had to make to my lifestyle, specifically our pace of life and my priorities. Having never been able to say 'no' to anyone or anything in my adult life, my major challenge is to start saying ‘No, no, no!’ Such a simple word, and yet I just can't do it! Others always come before me; my family and my friends, and yet I know I need to work on this. I know I unintentionally drive my husband and close friends to distraction...they know me better than I know myself often, and I am always being told to slow down, or to put me first, but I can't. Only when I have no option otherwise.

I spend my life falling asleep without planning to. I rarely see the end of a television programme or film. As a family, we often plan to go out on adventures in the mornings or early afternoon, as my more unpredictable time of day is usually mid afternoon to early evening. With careful planning, we do go out and make memories as a family of four, and we have lots of fun together. 

Everyday, I spend huge amounts of energy putting a brave face on to hide what I'm really feeling inside. I can’t do this anymore! I feel like most people only see me in a disguise, only my close friends and family know enough to understand what's really going on, and many of them can read me like a book. Conversely, I am constantly told I look really well, when in reality, I can barely stand up some days!  When things are really bad I can't easily hold a conversation, and I often focus all my energy on getting to the end of a day, an hour, a meeting or some other mini target I've set myself. I am wishing time away just to ‘get through’.  My illness is an invisible illness, and it is called that for a reason...it IS invisible!

On paper, my symptoms are fairly mild in contrast with others who have the same diagnosed condition. I am able go to work four days a week still, I am able to take my children to the park or on carefully planned day trips, I can still do some of the things I do for me, to allow me to be 'me', although these ‘things’ for me, are usually the ‘things’ I cut out if I need to slow down - leaving no time for Me!  

The Present and the Immediate Future   

In recent months I have seen a huge flare of my symptoms and have been much more debilitated than previously, but I am hoping this is just a blip in my journey. Working from home and home schooling two young children during the Covid 19 pandemic has not helped.  Life has been a bit mad for us all lately, hasn't it?! I can only imagine how people feel, who have much more significant symptoms, and I try to empathise with those whose symptoms are much more severe than mine. ME CFS is so varied and different for each and every person diagnosed with it!  

ME CFS is not well understood.  As it is ‘invisible’, others do not know I am suffering symptoms that often debilitate me. I cover it well by pretending I am ‘ok’ until I finally crash and burn at home. This is my reason for sharing my story, living with this condition, to promote awareness so that others may benefit from learning about how it affects a person and how people can make allowances. It is not going away!! Maybe I was ‘given’ this condition because I am naturally a strong person who is ‘driven’ to come through everything, no matter what. I do not know. I know that sometimes, I just can’t and I am worn out ‘pretending’. So I have chosen to share this and maybe I can make a difference to someone else. Acknowledging symptoms is just the start. Getting a diagnosis is paramount, and getting the right help is vital for any kind of future.

You've got this far, well done! Look out for how my story unfolds. Until then, we must stay positive!

XxXx

#chronicfatiguesyndrome #chronicfatigue #mecfs #me #myalgicenceohalomyelitis #cfsme

[ragewerthers]

Raising A Shield

Summary: The adventures of one tiny Shield getting lost in the Citadel

A/n: This is for a prompt from my friend @bgn846 for our F3S! She wanted little Gladio getting lost and finding Cor to help him and this instantly stuck in my head!

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20945588

Happy reading! :D

Word Count: 2728

-------------------------------- “This way, Gladiolus.  You said you didn’t want to be carried so you have to make sure you keep an eye on us, okay?” Clarus reminded gently, making the six year old rush to catch up to his Father and the King.  

Gladio had just been looking at a really pretty plant that smelled like his mothers perfume.  The lady who had been watering them had said they were Sylleblossoms and if Gladio remembered correctly they were one of his Mommy’s absolute favorites!  Though she liked all sorts of flowers.  That’s why he was a Gladiolus.  A tough flower!  Tough flowers didn’t need to be carried.

Puffing out his chest as he drew closer to his Father he nodded.  “I’m too big to be carried!  I gotta stand guard with you for Uncle Regis,” he said as he marched to stand beside the King, narrowing his eyes in a way very much like his Dad’s to make sure to scare off bad people.  Once his scan was complete he looked up to his Uncle who seemed to be trying to stifle a sneeze.  At least that’s what Gladio thought as the man covered his mouth and excused himself.

“Bless you,” Gladio said with a bright smile before looking at his Dad and noticing the way he was smiling at him.  “I’m doing good?”

His dad chuckled and nodded.  “Yes.  You’re doing a fine job.  Keep making sure, Uncle Regis doesn’t get in trouble.  He seems to be able to do that when he doesn’t have his Shields here to watch over him,” he warned, giving the King a little look.

Regis gasped at the accusation making Gladio giggle a bit at the surprised look.

“Clarus!  I have never gotten in trouble in my entire life!” he tried to argue as they all began to move down the hallway again, Gladio’s little legs working to keep up with his Dad and Uncle’s.

“Oh?  Then what about the time you managed to walk into a pond?  Or the time you trapped yourself in your offices?  Or the time…,”

“That’s not trouble!  That’s just… bad luck,” Regis grumbled, making Clarus laugh as they continued on the way to the King’s offices.

As the adults continued to talk and Gladio followed, he couldn’t help taking in everything that they passed.  There were always so many interesting things to see in the Citadel!  It’s why he enjoyed coming here with his Dad so much.  There was always something new and fun to see!  He needed to learn about all of these things so that he would know the Citadel as well as his Dad did!  That way he could be the best Shield for his Uncle and for Prince Noctis.

His thoughts of being a mighty Shield were interrupted as he glanced to the side and saw a giant painting hanging on the wall.

Instantly his attention was grabbed and he paused.

The painting showed a noble king, seated on a throne and surrounded by his most trusted friends.  To his left, there was the place of the Shield.  This man wasn’t like his Dad.  He wore a mask and his hair was longer and white, but he still looked really tough.  He was probably a really, really good Shield then.  He was going to have to ask his Dad about him.  Maybe he could even make a scary mask when he got home later!

“Hey, Dad!  Who is this Shield?” he asked, pointing to the painting and turning to his Dad… or… to where his Dad had been.

Gladio’s smile faltered a little and he looked around the now empty corridor.

“Dad?” he called, his little voice echoing into the hall, making it feel like he was talking into the mouth of a giant cave.  “Daddy?  Uncle Regis?”

Once again he paused, but no voices came back to him.  Maybe they were playing hide and seek with him?  Walking forward a few more steps, Gladio peeked his way around the corner of the hallway.

Nothing.

A little spike of fear managed to wiggle its way into his chest, but he frowned and shook his head.  He was a tough Shield!  He could find his Daddy and Uncle Regis without getting upset.

He began to make his way along the hallway, trying to remember if a particular plant or painting looked familiar and always finding himself taking another turn… then another… and another.  There were a few times where he passed a couple of people, but none of them seemed to pay him any mind.  A few of them even almost stumbled over him on their way to wherever they were going.

One particular man was more than a little upset with him.

After pausing in a hallway to try and figure out if he should head back or continue forward, Gladio found someone practically running into him and only managed to stumble out of the way in time before the man tumbled and fell onto the floor.

The man looked around absolutely bewildered, trying to figure out what had disturbed his phone call that he’d been so invested in.  As soon as he caught sight of the small child he glowered and began to get up, dusting off his once neat suit.

“You little brat!  What are you doing just standing there?  Don’t you know to stay out of an adults way?” he growled and Gladio backed away slightly.  He knew he was supposed to be brave, but… but this man was so angry!  He tried to glower like his Dad would when he had his fighting face on, but it only seemed to make the man more angry.

“You can’t talk to me like that!” he countered, and that seemed to set the angry man off again!

“I can and I will!  Get out of here, kid!” he shouted and took a step forward.

Gladio knew he should’ve been braver.  Should’ve held his ground like his Dad would’ve, but… this man was so angry and so scary and he didn’t know where his Dad or his Uncle was, and, and, and....

He knew he had to get away!

Before the man could get too close, Gladio turned on his heel and ran down the hall, unaware of what the man was shouting behind him as he took one corner then another, tears gathering in his eyes from frustration and fear.

Where was his Dad?

Why hadn’t he been found yet?

Was anyone looking for him?

What if no one ever found him again?!

He ran and ran until his legs felt like they were going to fall off, all these questions running through his head.  Until…

He heard it.

A familiar growl of a voice echoing down the corridor as he ran past a slightly open door, stopping him in his tracks.  His eyes widened in realization and he doubled back, peeking through the a jar door and trying to find the person who was speaking.

That’s when he spotted him.

“Keep your eyes up and shoulders squared, Atlia!  If you get caught holding your weapon out like that in battle the Nifs won’t hesitate in making an advance!  The last thing you want is to be taken out by someone as easy as their banner holder shoving his pole up your a-AH!”

Cor Leonis had been trained from an early age to anticipate any and all possibilities in war, to always be onguard and aware of what was going on in his surroundings.

None of his training had prepared him for a terrified six year old to come barreling into his legs at mach twelve speeds and almost taking him out.

After gaining his bearing and stopping himself from falling face first onto the training hall floor, Cor glanced down to see the trembling form of his godson.

“Gladio?  Gladio what are you doing here?” he asked, still trying to reconcile that the boy was here.  He glanced toward the door to see where Clarus was, but when no Shield was forthcoming he couldn’t help looking back down at the poor kid.  “Where’s your Dad?”

“I-I don’t know!” came his muffled reply where Gladio was hiding his face in his Uncles knee, his little hands clinging to his trousers.

Cor’s brow furrowed slightly as he tried to reconcile this, but his ears picked up on some mumblings in the back.  

The training hall was filled with a group of recruits and them seeing the Immortal almost taken down was definitely something they’d be chattering about.  He didn’t miss a few comments and snickers about a child almost taking him down and he instantly turned to face the room at large.

“Is there something funny about a child in distress that I’m missing?” he growled out, his tone instantly quieting the hall, his eyes still scanning the group.  After a few moments he turned his attention back to the boy who was now hiding behind him though was now curiously looking over all of these other people.

“Why are they looking at us?” Gladio asked quietly and Cor couldn’t help smiling a bit before nodding.

“Good point, Gladio.  Why are they looking at us when they should be doing their drills?” he asked loudly enough at the end that the recruits took it for the warning it was.

Soon enough the training hall was back in action with everyone resuming their exercises lest the face the wrath of Cor.

Gladio watched everyone starting up again and looked up at his Uncle.  “They all listened to you,” he said a bit awestruck, making Cor chuckle as he looked down at his godson.

“They better.  I’m training them to become better fighters for the Crown,” Cor explained, watching as Gladio mulled this over in his head.

“Did you train Dad?” he asked, quirking his eyebrow a bit and this time Cor snorted with a laugh.

“No, pipsqueak.  He’s a million years older than me,” he joked, getting a little giggle out of Gladio before continuing.  “But speaking of him, how did you end up here without him?” he asked, watching as Gladio ducked his head a little shamed and hid back against his knee.

“I was lookin’ at a picture of a scary shield and Dad and Uncle Regis left me behind,” he said, knowing full well he should’ve heeded his father’s advice and followed them instead of wandering off.

However, Cor knew better than that, but decided to play along for now.  Gasping slightly he raised his brows in mock shock.

“They did?” Cor asked, ducking down and carefully removing his leg from Gladio’s grasp so he could pick him up.  

As soon as Gladio was in his arms, the little Amicitia wrapped his arms around his Uncles neck and hid against him, peeking out to watch the recruits now and again when he heard a clash or a bang.

“Mmhm.  Then I ran into a scary man who yelled at me so I ran away.  Then I heard you and I knew I’d be safe!  Dad told me that if I ever need help to find Uncle Regis or you,” he said with a little nod, finally leaning back to look at his Uncle, a little smile playing on his lips.  “And I did!  Now I’m safe.”

Cor felt something in his chest tighten to hear that and he couldn’t help but smile a bit more.  “Yeah, pipsqueak.  You’re safe.  Now… why don’t we call your Dad and let him know that too, okay?  I’m sure he’s turning the Citadel upside down looking for you,” he said as he started toward the edge of the room and toward his own duffle bag.

Gladio’s eyes still remained on the recruits training in the hall, watching as various weaponry was used from daggers to swords to polearms.  His eyes widened when he saw someone using a greatsword and he instantly pointed at it with a bright smile.  “That’s gonna be my weapon!” he chirped happily as Cor set him down so he could grab his phone out of his bag.

As the Marshal glanced over and took in what Gladio was looking at he couldn’t help chuckling a little.  “Is that so?” he asked, sending a quick text to Clarus that he had Gladio in his care and where he was at.  It took only a few seconds before a message came through that they were on their way.

Gladio nodded, bouncing a bit where he stood as all his fear disappeared with his Uncle Cor nearby.

“Yeah!  Dad uses a greatsword so I will too!  And I’m gonna be like ‘hiyuh!’ and ‘take that’!” he cheered, pretending to slash through the air with an imaginary sword in hand.

Cor couldn’t help another chuckle as he watched his godson.

“I think you’ll make an excellent fighter, Gladio.  Now… do you think you can stay out of trouble while I look after the recruits?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir!  Uncle Cor!” he said, giving his Uncle a little salute and making Cor narrow his eyes playfully.

“That’s Marshal, pipsqueak,” he warned as Gladio giggled again.

-----------------------------

Rushing into the Citadels Training Hall, Clarus looked like he’d aged another million years.  Regardless of Cor’s reassurances, he couldn’t get to the hall quick enough.  Regis was right behind him, still trying to make his own reassurances, but the idea that Gladio had been wandering and could’ve ended up anywhere or with anyone was still enough that he would be having nightmares about this for awhile.

However, as he burst through the doors to the training hall he found himself pausing, his eyes trying to reconcile what he was seeing.

The recruits had been lined up and were going through a few drills with their respective training weapons… one particular little recruit toward the front looked like all of his birthdays and Christmas had come early.

Gladio had a small wooden dagger in his hands, enough to make it seem like his own personal sword and he was trying to follow Cors orders as the Marshal made his ways up and down the lines as he shouted orders.

“Front face!” he shouted as they all moved in sync, Gladio following and adding a little slash of his dagger sword.

“Right face!” Cor shouted again, the recruits once more moving together as Gladio turned the wrong way and giggled at his mistake before turning the right way.

By this point Cor had made it to him and looked at the tiny recruit, crossing his arms.

“You need to learn your lefts and right, okay, soldier?” he asked, narrowing his eyes that held no anger and only fondness regardless of his stoic expression.

“Yes Uncle Cor!” Gladio chirped, smiling brightly up at the man.

Cor quirked and eyebrow at that and crossed his arms over his chest.  “What was that recruit?” he growled playfully making Gladio laugh more.

“Yes Uncle Marshal Cor!” he corrected quickly, making Cor fight back a smile as a few recruits already started to chuckle and break composure at the spectacle of their newest member.

Regis couldn’t help laughing as Clarus stood there with his mouth open.

“I think you may have found a new babysitter for Gladiolus,” he joked as he clapped Clarus on the shoulder, bringing him out of his reverie.

“I… I suppose so.  Is he really making my six year old son run drills?” he asked as Gladio accidentally thwacked Cor in the shin with his dagger sword, making the man yelp and Gladio laugh hysterically.

“He is… and it looks like he needs the practice,” Regis joked.

Clarus rolled his eyes at that.

Gladio made to turn around as another order was given and seen his Father, instantly waving at him and in his excitement inadvertently thwacking Cor once more in the shin.

To his credit, Cor was able to keep any curses from crossing his lips.

“Really?  I think he’s doing a fine job,” Clarus joked back, a bit of the tension leaving him.

“Look Dad!  I gotta sword!” Gladio yelled across the training hall, the excitement rippling off of him practically visible.

Perhaps it wasn’t so bad getting lost?

Now all he had to do was see if he could make that scary mask when he got home… for the next time he found his way to the training hall!

[pamphletstoinspire]

Story about Saint Polycarp, Bishop And Martyr - Feast Day - January 26th - Latin Calendar

The Martyrdom of St. Polycarp by St. Alphonsus di Liguori

St. Polycarp was a disciple of the Apostle St. John, and was born about the seventieth year of the Christian era. He was a Christian from his infancy, and on account of his extraordinary piety was greatly beloved by the apostles, his teachers. St. Irenaeus, Bishop of Lyons, writes that he had had the good fortune, when young, to know our saint, who was then far advanced in years, and remark show strongly impressed on his mind were the instructions which he had received from him, and with what delight he remembered having heard him recount his conversations with St. John and others who had seen the Redeemer.

St. Polycarp was consecrated Bishop of Smyrna by St. John himself before this apostle's banishment to the Island of Patmos. It is looked upon as certain that our saint was the angel, or Bishop of Smyrna, commended by the Lord in the Apocalypse: And to the angel of the church of Smyrna write . . . I know thy tribulation and thy poverty; but thou art rich. . . . Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee the crown of life (Apoc. ii. 9).

Our saint governed the church of Smyrna seventy years, according to Fleury (Hist. eccl. l. 3, n. 48), with so much prudence and approbation that he was regarded as the principal of the Asiatic bishops, on account of the great veneration in which he was held. When eighty years of age, he went to Rome to consult with Pope Anicetus on some points of discipline, particularly regarding the time at which Easter should be celebrated. St. Polycarp's delay in Rome was very useful to the faithful, as it afforded him an opportunity of confuting the heresies of that period. Meeting the heresiarch Marcion, who inquired of the holy bishop whether he knew him; “Yes,” answered the saint, ” I know thee to be the first-born of the devil.”

On his return to Asia, he suffered much in the persecution which the Emperor Marcus Aurelius raised against the Church, and which was particularly felt at Smyrna, where the proconsul, Statius Quadratus, was exercising the most barbarous cruelty against the faithful. Amongst other acts of persecution, he caused twelve Christians, who were brought from Philadelphia, to be devoured by wild beasts. Excited by this bloodshed, the pagans were loud in their demands for the slaughter of the Christians, particularly of Polycarp, who failed not on his part to encourage his flock to the most heroic proofs of constancy, in suffering torments and death for Jesus Christ. Notwithstanding the continual clamor raised against him, the saint wished to remain in the city for the discharge of his pastoral duties, but was obliged, by the importunity of the faithful, to retire to a house without the city, where, during his stay, he occupied the entire night and day in holy prayer.

After a short time, however, he was discovered. Three days previouly to his arrest, he saw in a vision his pillow in flames, from which he knew that the martyrdom reserved for him was that of fire, and, turning to his companions, told them that he would be burned alive. The Christians, aware that the soldiers were in pursuit of him, removed him to another house; but a young servant, overawed by the fear of torture, revealed the place of his concealment. The saint was informed of this, but refused to retreat any farther, saying, with holy resignation: “The will of God be done.” Full of heroic zeal, he offered himself to God as a victim destined for his honor, besought him to accept the sacrifice of his life, and joyfully delivered himself up to his pursuers. He received them into his house, ordered them a handsome supper, and desired only some time for prayer, which being granted, he was for two hours absorbed in meditation.

The captain and the soldiers were filled with confusion at the sight of the venerable bishop; and unwillingly executing their commission, departed with him at break of day. As the journey to Smyrna was long, they set him on an ass, and were conducting him to the city, when they met on the road two superior officers, called Herod and Nicetas, who took him into their chariot, and endeavored to persuade him to obey the imperial edict, saying, among other things: “What harm is there in sacrificing to the gods in order to save your life?” The saint answered with fortitude that he would rather suffer every torture, even death itself, than consent to what they advised. Upon this resolute answer they turned away in anger, regarding him as a man lost through his obstinacy, and pushed him from the chariot with such violence that his leg was bruised, or, according to Fleury, broken by the fall.

The saint nevertheless, with undisturbed tranquillity of mind, proceeded to the amphitheatre, where he was about to sacrifice his life. Upon entering it he heard a voice from heaven, saying: “Be courageous, Polycarp; act manfully.” He was presented to the proconsul, who endeavored to shake his resolution, saying: “Polycarp, thou art old, and should free thyself from torments which thou hast not strength to bear; swear, therefore, by the fortune of Caesar, and exclaim with the people, ‘Be the impious exterminated!'” The saint immediately replied: “Yes! be the impious exterminated–but by the impious I mean the idolaters.” The proconsul, thinking that he had gained him over, said: “Now blaspheme Jesus Christ, and I will discharge thee.” The saint rejoined: “I have served Jesus Christ these fourscore and six years; he never did me harm, but much good; how can I blaspheme him? How can I blaspheme my Creator and my Saviour, who is also my judge, and who justly punishes those who deny him?” The tyrant, still continuing to tempt him to deny Jesus Christ, Polycarp replied that he was a Christian, and considered it a glory to die for Christ.

The proconsul threatened him with wild beasts. “Call for them quickly,” replied the saint; “I cannot change from good to evil; the beasts will help me to pass from mortal suffering to the glory of heaven.” “Then,” said the tyrant, “thou shalt be burned alive.” The saint answered: “Thy fire only lasts a. moment; there is another fire which is eternal, and of that I am afraid. Why dost thou delay to execute thy threats?” This he said with so much intrepidity, that the tyrant himself was struck with admiration; he ordered, however, a crier to make public proclamation that Polycarp had avowed himself a Christian; whereupon the entire multitude of pagans cried out: “Let this destroyer of our gods die!” The public shows having terminated, it was resolved that he should be burned alive, instead of being devoured by wild beasts.

The pile was prepared by the pagans, and also by the Jews, who were particularly active in offering themselves as executioners. Polycarp put off his garments, and seeing they were about to fasten him to the stake, said: “Leave aside these nails: He who gives me fortitude to undergo this fire, will enable me to stand Still without them.” They therefore contented themselves with tying his hands behind his back, and placed him upon the pile, whence raising his eyes to heaven, the saint prayed after the following manner:

“I bless Thee, O God, for having vouchsafed to make me a partaker in the Passion of Jesus Christ Thy Son, by rendering me worthy to offer myself as a sacrifice for Thy honor, that I may be enabled to praise Thee in heaven, and to bless Thee for all eternity.”

The pile was set on fire, yet the flames did not touch the body of the saint, but formed, as it were, an arch around him, while his flesh exhaled a most fragrant odor. The pagans, exasperated to see that the fire had no effect, transfixed him with a spear, and such a quantity of blood issued from the wound as extinguished the flames.

Thus did St. Polycarp terminate his triumph, as is recorded in the celebrated epistle of the Church of Smyrna, which may be seen in “Ruinart's Collection of the Acts of the Martyrs.” His martyrdom took place about the year 160. (1,2)

Practical Reflections by Fr. Francis Xavier Weninger

“For eighty-six years have I served Christ, and He has done me no wrong : how can I, then, deny or insult Him now?” This is an answer worthy to be written in golden letters. Impress it deeply upon your heart, remembering God Himself asks: ” O, my people what have I done to thee, or in what have I molested thee? Answer thou me.”

What canst thou answer, whilst thy conscience convinces thee of the truth that God never did thee an injury, but, on the contrary conferred on thee countless benefits for body and soul? How canst thou, then, have the heart to offend Him, and that so often and grievously? What astonishing iniquity and damnable ingratitude it is to offend maliciously so great a benefactor! Were a man, to whom you have done much good, to repay you by repeated insults, what would you say? “Oh!” you would cry, “how have I deserved this from him? For all my benefits I receive nothing but injuries at his hands. How despicable is his ingratitude!” But tell me, what has God deserved at thy hands? Has He done thee less good than thou didst to that man? Oh! weep bitterly over thy ingratitude, and resolve not to continue in it. Do not in future offend thy greatest benefactor, but love and praise Him for His benefits. Answer the evil spirit, when he tempts thee to sin: “My God has done me no injury, but only good: how can I, then, offend Him?”

St. Polycarp did not fear the fire of the tyrant, which could burn only for a time, and then had an end; but he feared the fire which is prepared for the wicked and burns forever. Think often of the inextinguishable fire of hell, and, through fear of that God who can punish thee with it, abstain from sin. Certainly you would not sin for any gain or pleasure, if you were sure that, after sin,”your hand would have to burn in a fire, were it but for a quarter of an hour. How blind and foolhardy, then, is it not to sin on account of some momentary pleasure or gain, when you must expect eternal fire on that account. Such are the thoughts of St. Augustine, who wrote: “Hell fire will not be like an earthly fire. Yet, were you forced to put your hand in earthly fire, you would do all that was demanded by him who threatens you. God threatens you with eternal fire, and will you not do good? Will you not avoid sin?” 

[silassanford]

His party is a group of fucking cowards. Or idiots. Or both. He should be seeing his colleagues faces on television every minute of the day, on every news program that they could be booked on. He should be sick of hearing of them on the radio. There should be protests at the gates of the White House every day of the week. Well, it’s as the old adage goes: if you want something done right, do it yourself. So that’s why when he stood up on the Senate floor, he had a plan in mind. He was going to talk until he very well collapsed. Not because he had some true opposition for the bill that stemmed from the pit of his soul. He has purely political reasons for doing this. If it did pass, everyone would know he fought hard against it. And if it failed… well, he would look like a hero of the people, wouldn’t he?

hour one “I stand here today before you to filibuster the Disarmament Act. I will remain here until I no longer have the energy to stand so that I may inform the public about what is at stake with this bill. And if you, a citizen of this nation, has a thought that they would like to express, please tweet with the hashtag filibuster for freedom, and I will read out some of your messages later...” hour two “I would like to bring up some of the excellent points that I have heard over the course of these past weeks. I would like to highlight Admiral Bell who spoke at the Disarmament Debate on the Cora Jones show. I would like to thank him for speaking out on this issue and I will read out one of his statements now. And I quote, ‘I don’t believe that there should be any sort of compromise when it comes to our Constitutional rights, and at best, that’s what this bill is asking of us. I believe that it would set a dangerous precedent in attacking the rights that the government is sworn by definition to protect.’ I believe that we should be following the procedure outlined in Article Five about proposing an amendment to the Constitution. And prior to that, there should be a bipartisan discussion about what such a bill should look like, rather than the president trying to push this bill through as hastily as possible.”

hour three “There is another politician whose eloquent thoughts that I would like to quote: ‘Gun violence is a reality and a tragedy in our lives that ensues from the misuse of a constitutional freedom. Interfering with that is comparable to curbing the freedom of speech because it has resulted in the spread of hatred and bigotry. When a freedom is misused, the answer is not to take it away. The solution is to address it. And this government has empowered every institution in this country to deal with the perpetrators and instigators of firearm-based violence. That is the very definition of ‘political action’. Asking for more is asking me to transgress the boundaries of my power.’ Those words were said by Theresa Wright, on the tragic day of her death. She firmly believed that the solution was not to take away the rights of citizens. If, as the president says, that he is trying to honour Theresa Wright’s legacy, then he should heed her words, rather than pushing his own agenda that goes against her beliefs.” hour four He took a bite out of a burger, flipping to the next page of his very tall stack of papers. He didn’t even look close to halfway through. A soft smile settled on his lips. A nostalgic look. “Some of my fondest memories with my son are when we went hunting together. My son is here, in the gallery, supporting my efforts here today. Hi, Henry.” A warm smile, a wave in the direction of the gallery. “It breaks my heart to think that other fathers won’t have the same opportunity to bond as I did with my son if this bill’s restrictive measures go into effect. What is more American than being able to get into my car with my boy and drive out of the city and taking what my son affectionately calls shortcuts and taking us through this great state of mine, having to fill up the tank of gap and then finally, arriving at one of the four great national forests that my state has and hunt some game? There is nothing more American than family.” hour five “The president hasn’t outlined how he is going to pay for the incentives he intends to hand out. I can only hazard a guess that it will come out of taxpayer money, or heaven forbid, out of the Defense budget which is used to keep this country and its troops safe.”

hour six “I would like to also bring up the point that Senator Lindahl made in the Disarmament Debate on the Cora Jones show, which is that this bill is a “violation of the preeminent human right, and that is the right to self-defense”. hour seven “I would like to acknowledge all of the people who have phoned into my office to express their thoughts about this bill. I would like to give a special shout-out for those from my hometown of Mobile, Alabama, and I will read out the concerns from one of its citizens, Betty McDowall. She has told me she has two adult sons and that she worries about the potential abuses of the lifetime ban, knowing that false claims to the police already have a disastrous effect on a person’s life, and now someone could be be banned for life from exercising their Second Amendment right. This surely is not constitutional. What’s next? Will the government issue lifetime bans on the freedom of speech as well?” hour eight “The president is attempting to forcibly expand the red flag law which is a state legislation and should be voted on at the state level, rather than unilaterally decided here for all of the states.” hour nine “I believe that it is unreasonable to raise the age of purchasing guns from eighteen to twenty five. If at eighteen a citizen can enlist themselves at the military and die for our great nation, they should be allowed to have the freedom to purchase a gun.” hour ten “Within the bill, it is listed that that the person wishing to purchase a gun must justify necessity for owning a gun. This vague rule that places the power in the hands of the government is a dangerous notion that they may be able to bar people from exercising their Second Amendment right. As given the lack of comprehensive criteria, this will lead to arbitrary and uneven decision making which will impede citizens from their right to bear arms.” hour eleven ”The bill has also proposed these ambiguous terns at a municipal level for those applying carry a concealed handgun. It references that a person must be determined to be of good moral character. Now, who is to judge these morals? Is it this administration who will dictate them to us? Would I, Mr. President, pass this judgment? Or would I need to renounce my beliefs that every life is sacred? Will I, and every citizen, need to choose between their religious beliefs and their Second Amendment right?” hour twelve “I do not think that the actions of one man should be used by the president as justification to punish an entire nation and take away their rights…” hour thirteen “I think that it’s certainly a clever ploy for the president to offer a tax credit to bribe citizens to not purchase any guns in the next twelve months. Come election time, I’m sure it will be a nice talking point about out how he’s reduced the number of guns in this country.” hour fourteen ”Now, I haven’t even yet gotten to speak about how excessive and far-reaching it is for a total ban on assault and automatic weapons except for basically law enforcement agencies. Of course the government would want to keep its citizens scared and unarmed.” hour fifteen and thirty one minutes “I hope that my words today have made everyone understand the importance of this moment. I call on all of the senators here to take a look at themselves. Anyone who proclaims to uphold the Constitution must vote no on this bill. Thank you for all listening. And with that, I yield the floor.” At the very least, whatever happened, he damn well that he’d been getting into the records of top ten longest filibusters. He’d been keeping count.

[batkatbrown]

Beyond the Sea C 20

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13837683/chapters/33733509

[[ Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven| Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen | Part Sixteen | Part Seventeen | Part Eighteen | Part Nineteen | Part Twenty | Part Twenty One ]]

Huge thanks to Fujo on Patreon for sponsoring this chapter! <3

Hanzo smiled as the sun kissed his face in the early morning and languidly stretched. He knew Jesse would be up as well and perhaps exploring the series of tubes all over the house. A simple enchantment on the lid of the tank would have unsealed it so his companion could explore.

Rolling on to his back, he grinned to see he had an audience after all. “Good morning, Jesse,” he purred and repeated his stretch. He arched and let the blanket slide down his chest to his hips.

Jesse bubbled a happy greeting and darted back and forth in the section of pipe high on the wall. Hanzo watched the warm light sparkle off Jesse’s tail and shift to hot pink from the tube as it fell on the wall.

It was tempting to drift off as he watched the beautiful patterns if not for the distracting throb in his groin. More pressing than normal, his morning arousal continued to swell the longer Jesse watched him from high above.

Hanzo restlessly shifted his legs and clenched at the sheets. It had been almost three months since Jesse had first spoken and he had neglected himself during much of it. Memories of Jesse’s mouth on his fanned the heat in his belly. How warm and sweet their kisses had been and how hot desire flared when Jesse had teased with his inhuman tongue.

“I am going to shower, Jesse. Then perhaps we should eat breakfast in the backyard.” Hanzo tried to shift to hide the tent growing in his pants with his blanket. Jesse swam closer to the tank on Hanzo’s nightstand. He was a roguishly handsome as ever, a wide smile showing despite the size difference.

He waited patiently till Jesse had descended to the tank and popped his head above water. “Good mornin’, darlin’. You sleep well?” Jesse swam lazily to the shore and propped himself up on his good arm.

“Very.” Hanzo mirrored the position, head on his hand. His dick was hot and firm against his thigh and he tried his best to ignore it. “You are up and chiper as well.”

“Just happy, you know,” Jesse waved his tail lazily in the water. “After yesterday when we…”

“Kissed,” Hanzo finished, a blush rising to his cheeks. “I… have thought of it as well.” He pushed his hair out of his face with a yawn and tossed his attention to the spellbook on his desk. He touched the spine thoughtfully and an idea sprang up. There was someone who would understand and that could perhaps send them in the right direction.

Hanzo scooted to the edge of the bed and lowered his hand to Jesse. The merman quickly splashed into the cup of his fingers and grabbed on. Hanzo lifted him, not minding the dripping, and settled him on his bare chest. It tickled and excited as Jesse slithered higher to perch on the crest of his pec.

His tail felt smooth as tiny scales rubbed against his skin and swiped haphazardly over his nipple as he got situated. “You’re always so nice and warm,” Jesse sighed and cuddled up over Hanzo’s heart.

“You could probably use more sunlight to warm up and perhaps some exercise,” Hanzo tentatively offered as he cupped Jesse’s back.

“I’d love that. I liked your eating in the backyard idea. Could go for a swim with the koi and stretch a bit.”

Hanzo ran his finger tip down Jesse’s spine and along the smooth swoope of his tail. Light danced in the merman’s eyes and he leaned his head down to hesitantly press his lps to the man’s head. It was cool and wet and for a moment, Hanzo was afraid he’d made a mistake.

“THat’s nice, Han,” Jesse sighed and bunted his head hard against Hanzo’s mouth. It made him laugh and he quickly returned the gesture as gently as he could.

“Let’s go to the beach today. I know a small cove not far away with tide pools to explore.” Hanzo offered, pulling back just enough to see Jesse’s face. He was beaming like the sun and Hanzo laughed with Jesse slapped him repeatedly with his fin in excitement.

It didn’t take long to make a travel tank of sorts for Jesse and pack them a hearty breakfast of fruits and bread with a tub of butter and honey. A thermos of coffee went into the picnic basket and Hanzo threw in some boiled eggs before bundling it up.

Jesse watched eagerly from the kitchen sink. “Oh those are gonna be good. I’m starving darlin’. Can i get just a nibble of something to tide me over?”

“Hmm,” Hanzo pulled out a slice of orange and handed it over. It was easily as long as Jesse’s good arm and dwarfed the man. “Careful of the juice in your eyes.”

His warning was unwarranted either as Jesse ripped open the thin membrane to take a handful of the plump flesh. It was hard to see but he caught the flash of Jesse’s second eyelid closing to protect his sight from the acidity.

He chuckled as Jesse devoured the fruit in great gulps and juice ran down his chest and belly. It made him shiny in the morning light from the kitchen windows. “You’re a dirty, merman.” Hanzo teased, reaching over to nudge Jesse in the side. Not hard enough to push him off his little island in the middle of the sink but just enough to make Jesse grab on reflexively.

“Just dirty in the fun way right?” Jesse flashed a smile and Hanzo couldn’t stop himself from melting just a little bit more.

“Be glad orange and fish do not go well together or I might be tempted,” Hanzo smirked through the words and thew a wink at his tiny companion. He lifted his fingertip to his mouth, smelling the citrus and the slightly salty tang from Jesse’s skin. It tasted strange on his tongue as he slowly licked it clean before slurping it inside.

A little groan rose from the merman and Jesse tossed himself into the water with a vibrant flash of his tail. He popped up with a grumbling huff and splashed water up at Hanzo despite his distance.

Hanzo relented and leaned down to rest his weight on his arms. His hair ribbon fell to float on the surface of the water and before he could pull it away, Jesse had it in hand. He tugged on it with surprising strength and Hanzo allowed himself to be pulled lower.

“You are gonna get it when the curse is broken,” Jesse rumbled and it sent a shiver down Hanzo’s spine straight to his dick.

“I do not see much reason to wait till then.” Hanzo smirked at the red and flustered sputter Jesse gave in return to the idea. He would convince Jesse that he was wonderful and wanted in his true form.

The idea still made his toes curl in desire. It was too much for jesse now and Hanzo pulled away. He would give it time while they searched for a way to break the curse and enjoyed the strange life they were making together.

“Let us go before the day gets to hot.” Hanzo tried to make his transition seem normal but Jesse still gave him a look he wasn’t sure how to respond too. The merman did swim into his hands when they were offered through and Hanzo carefully settled him in the two gallon jar and closed the lid.

Once they were settled in his car and Jesse’s tank was seatbelted in, he cracked the top so Jesse could get fresh air. It would still be a bit of an uncomfortable drive for him but Hanzo hoped the payoff would be worth it.

The radio filled the silence between them with warm, deep tones. It was comforting as Hanzo took the long back roads to the beach he had been to before. He had cleared it of the foil drowners and their nests for the local village and kept the memory of the small area for just such a day.

They had to park almost a mile away but it was still pleasant with a fresh breeze. Hanzo shouldered the picnic basket and looked at the heavy jug of water. He could carry it to the beach but the terrain was rough.

“It will take me a half hour to get us to the beach. Can you survive without water for that time without hurting yourself?” He murmured, ready to bear the heavy weight if needed.

“If you get your shirt nice and wet, i can rest against it with no problem.” Jesse splashed a few drops onto Hanzo’s shirt. It was refreshingly cool on his skin.

“Very well.” Hanzo was quick to scoop a handful of water up and douse himself. It made the white fabric of his shirt half transparent and he was glad no one else was around. “Just… inside the shirt?”

“I’ll get settled in fine,” Jesse nodded and raised his arms.

Hanzo took the invitation to wrap his fingers around the man’s chest and lift him free of the jug. Jesse wiggled his tail and flashed gold and red like gems. Bits of light were thrown into his eyes and he had to close his eyes for a moment.

He hooked a finger into the neck of his shirt and peeled it away. They managed to get Jesse inside the wet confines with the hem tucked under his armpits. It was too precarious for Hanzo’s taste and he pulled his hair ribbon free. He looped it across his chest and the base of his throat to make a sling of sorts.

“Now this is nice. Got myself a little hammock now,” Jesse hummed as he wriggled into place. “I’m ready when you are darlin.”

Hanzo smiled down at his companion before shouldering the picnic basket and heading off into the sparse and sandy terrain.

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[teacherintransition]

A Heartbreaking Loss... How Are They to be Remembered?

When a loved one leaves us, it never a simple process; emotionally or pragmatically... it’s always bittersweet.

Memories or stuff? A balanced healing usually involves both.

Recently, my wife has endured the tragic loss of her mother. Annie was the 92 year old, always smiling, brilliant ray of sunshine matriarch of a family that stretched from the Gulf Coast, to the Red River border and was firmly settled here is East Texas. She was the last of a family of twelve brothers and sisters and raised many of their children with her own as well. Her immediate family included two daughters, a son, their spouses, seven grandchildren and six great grandchildren. Her health had been relatively good considering her age and she still lived alone in a little house in Lufkin. The fact that she was 92 escaped no one, but her loving demeanor and country wit was still a constant; so we knew the inevitable was coming, someday, but she was still ol’ Annie. The inevitable came in June, in her sleep, in her bed in her little house in Lufkin ... where she wanted to be.

I’ve lost both parents and a sister as well as two close friends who were brothers to me. In truth, my family didn’t have the close, loving reliance that Annie’s did ... I’d venture to say that few do... Nancy, Frank and Kim deeply loved and looked to their mother. It puzzled me how shocked and in disbelief they appeared when the time finally came, but then again my family relationships weren’t as sweet as was based more on logic than emotion. The immediate events following her passing kind of took care of themselves: funeral home, viewing, service, burial. One hurdle had been passed, but the little house in Lufkin sat quietly, filled with a lifetime of photos, cards, letters, Knick knacks and other “stuff.” I wrote stuff in quotation marks as stuff seems a shallow word when referring to a lifetime of memories and accumulated items.

Annie grew up country and she grew up poor of this our families had similar stories. Both Annie and my father’s family had nothing. Dad’s family sharecropped and lived in a hard scrabbled cabin part of which had been hollowed out of the mountain. Annie grew up in the Pollock area to a farming family in a home that lacked running water or electricity. She was born two years before the Great Depression, so the ensuing calamity was not overwhelming... when you have nothing ...you can’t lose nothing. As a consequence, Annie grew up holding onto everything, not even close to a miserly mindset, she held on to memories in any form. Stories, songs, photos, birthday cards, Christmas cards, newspaper clippings, funeral announcements, anything and everything that shared an event that meant something to her. In front of my wife and her siblings stood the daunting task of going through a lifetime of collecting. Nothing was overlooked and a story followed almost every item. The three of them would stop through mid organizing and engage in a twenty minute stroll down memory lane when they would come across a picture and a query started. “Who is that with Annie and Uncle Marvin?” .... then it was on... talk, tears and laughter. The material things were easy: couches, freezers, refrigerators, tables ...those things weren’t the treasure; it was the stuff in frames, on walls and put away in old shoe boxes that merited the attention. My mind works differently as our family was different. It could be frustrating to watch them go through the items, but in a way I was jealous that they could share so intimately and vividly as they worked their way through the life of Annie Laverne Hall.

Now the crux of this writing: how are people best remembered? I’m an historian and I know that our lives are fleeting instants through a constant flow of an infinitude of instants. The answers to the question of how we should/want to be remembered are as numerous as the stars and are likely to be free of any right or wrong, but most of us will be faced with this dilemma more than once. There is no implication to be made that Annie was a hoarder at all. She lived with the images of her life in close reach. She also didn’t turn away from adventure to account for her holding on to items of her life; her children gave her a wonderful life of travel for a country girl from Pollock. She lived in West Texas and East Texas, visited the gulf coast, traveled to Miami, Branson, the Grand Ol Opry, took cruises to Mexico, ate at fine restaurants in Houston and Dallas. Annie got around and it is a great source of pride to her children that they could do this for her.

There is a philosophical change afoot here in America and worldwide that stands in contrast to the mad accumulation of wealth and things from the 80’s. Much of this change stems from the fact economically the disparity between the haves and have nots has grown strikingly. Still, we live, we want happiness, we want joyous memories... thus the philosophical move towards, “accumulating experiences instead of things ... stuff.” My wife and I for the last ten years have approached life with this intent on our mind. We travel as much as we can and bring back fewer and fewer souvenirs, instead, we come back with stories shared with friends over a bottle of wine. I was once one of the many of legions of guys who would bring out the slide projector with slides of our last vacation to entertain guests. Thankfully, the internet and digitalization has made this practice a rarity. Through much study, I’ve reached the personal conclusion that orally sharing stories with friends and family harkens back to the ancient ways of sharing memories over a fire and a sharing of strong drink. Trinkets were part of the process and provided much insight into the lives of the people. We’re not playing archeologists here, just discussing how best to preserve the experiences we gather along a lifetime.

I have a couple of friends who took another approach: a concerted paring down of any material items. There are a number of reasons why one might take this approach: the previously mentioned experiences over things, a move away from mindless consumerism, a practice to be more environmentally sensitive all of which are sound reasons to “minimize” the tangible evidence of one’s existence. It need not be an extreme paring down on “stuff” most cultures live smaller and less ostentatiously focusing less on “keeping up with Jones’s.” There is an extreme to this path as negative as massive consumerism as I see took place with one of my friends mentioned previously. Without going into too much detail as this friend could create volumes of stories much like Annie. There was a feeling among many of this gentleman’s friends that it appeared as if he were removing himself from existence. His circle of friends became smaller and smaller, contact with family more and more rare. When he left this world, there was little left to prove he was here and fewer people who socialized with him on a regular basis. His choice... as I stated, the ways of being remembered are as countless as the stars. This approach, as valid as most others, I think comes from a place of hurt. As the saying goes, “no man is an island” and there obligations that many feel we have to stay a part of the lives of our families and true friends. There is always someone who needs us and they will remember if you were there or away.

Truth be told, the idea of remembering or being remembered can be a futile exercise in practicality and arrogance if pushed too far. All our hurts, worries, tears, adventures, laughter, loves all individually get washed away in what William Cullen Bryant called, “The Flood of Years.” Yet, that flood exists only with the countless droplets of living that we do daily. So, what then is the healthiest approach to take when sharing memories and memorials of our lives and loved ones? I strongly believe that it is a combination of both ... a path down the middle done in moderation. Pictures and knickknacks mean nothing if personal reflection doesn’t accompany them. A life not shared, stories not told with friends and family is often a self centered path where one thinks their existence is above others or not worth recounting... both of which are sad commentaries.

Annie didn’t concern herself with such high fa lootin’ thoughts. She was too busy loving and sharing and caring and spending time with her people and in this she will be remembered for what she gave each of us. We forge our own paths and thus lay the bricks for our own monuments... not necessarily to be seen but to be felt in the heart... and that is as close to eternity as I imagine one can get.

https://internetpoem.com/william-cullen-bryant/the-flood-of-years-poem/

http://labibliotecacoffee.com/

[doctor--idiot]

Men of Fortune – Ch. 1

A retelling of Uncharted 4 A Thief’s End. [AO3]

Sam had been joking earlier when he had asked Nate if he was going to faint, but Nate still felt shaky and vaguely like he was either going to collapse of throw up. Seeing his brother again after so many years had rattled him. He was in complete emotional turmoil, his mind entirely unsure how to process that the death of the person who had meant most to him in the entire world had not actually happened.

Instead, Sam had spent a decade and a half in a Central American prison for a crime he technically hadn’t even committed. And Rafe and Nate had gotten away. It was difficult not to allow the survivor’s guilt to cripple him anew. The first few years after Sam’s apparent death, Nate had been nothing short of a mess. He still had no idea how his friends and his now-wife had put up with him at all.

He was randomly throwing clothes into his suitcase, not even thinking too much about it, because the only thing on his mind right now was Sam. Lying to Elena about where he was going to go had come naturally, he hadn’t even thought twice about it. All that mattered was that Sam needed his help and that Nate would do anything to get him out of his debt to Alcazar.

I am not losing you again. I won’t.

He had barely been able to take his eyes off Sam long enough to make it to his car, drive home, and pack his stuff. Sam had laughed at him for it.

“Just go, Nathan, I’m not going to disappear on you,” he’d said, amused, but the words had hit too close to home for Nate’s comfort. It was exactly what he was afraid of. The miracle that Sam was even alive and here was so huge that Nate was sure he’d used up his allowance of luck in the universe all in once and he didn’t want to let go of his brother for even a second, in case anything were to happen when he least expected it.

He was drunk on happiness and sick with fear of losing his brother again. He was glad he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast or it would have been on its way up his esophagus right about now.

“Hey, you in a hurry?” Elena had appeared in the door to their bedroom without Nate noticing. He jumped at her voice.

“Yeah. I mean no.” He threw her a smile. “Just excited. Sorry I gotta leave you.”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, hip leaning against the wooden door frame. “I told you to go, didn’t I? It’ll be good for you.”

Guilt crept up inside of Nate’s throat, making his voice sound hoarse. “Yeah.” He closed the suitcase and looked around.

Elena asked, “Good to go?” She was smiling and Nate hated that he had to lie to her but he didn’t have time to explain and he didn’t want to make things harder for Sam than they had to be. They didn’t know how much Alcazar knew, whether he was watching them, and there was no way he would drag Elena into that with him. He wanted her here in New Orleans, unworried, and out of harm’s way.

“I love you,” he told her on his way out as if it would make up for betraying her. She kissed him goodbye and he tried not to pull away too early, his stomach clenched tight.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back.” That wasn’t a lie, at least. “Could be a couple of weeks, could be longer than that.”

Elena nodded, her smile dimming slightly. “I know. Just … watch yourself, okay?”

He squeezed her hip before turning away to jog down the driveway, lugging his suitcase behind him.

Sam had speed-booked their tickets and he was waiting for Nate at the airport when Nate got out of the taxi. He had showered, his hair still damp, and dressed in simple jeans and a T-shirt despite the chilly temperatures. Of course, he was smoking a cigarette. Nate hadn’t expected fifteen years in prison to rid him of that habit. If anything, it had probably made it worse.

“Ready to go?” Sam asked him and it struck Nate again that his voice was deeper than he remembered it being. He had first noticed it when he had talked to Sam at the dock. Maybe it was the smoking, maybe he had simply gotten older.

It was strange how he didn’t look that much older. The last time Nate had seen him, they had both still been in their twenties. He realized that last year must have been Sam’s fortieth birthday.

God, they had lost so much time.

He wanted to hug Sam again, hold on to him and not ever let go. Instead, he clapped his brother on the shoulder and nudged him toward the terminals. “Let’s go.”

Flying wasn’t something that had ever bothered Nate but he did get restless on long flights. Six hours in, Sam’s hand came down on his knee and he flinched in surprise. “Settle down. Go to sleep.”

Nate shook his head. He was too wired to even think about sleep. He felt like he had had five cups of coffee and then downed two more energy drinks on top. Sam’s hand on his leg kept him from jiggling it with nervous energy and the warmth of his brother’s palm seeping through the denim of his jeans helped a little with his restlessness. Sam kept it there for the next hour until he got up to pee and Nate instantly missed the contact.

One and half hours later they landed in London und Nate tried to work the crick out of his neck. His stomach was growling after not having eating for an entire day and they grabbed breakfast at a nearby Costa. Their connection flight was delayed by half an hour, so they hung around a while longer, sipping piping hot coffee.

“If we get the cross,” Nate started, “What do you think is in it? A map to the treasure’s location?”

Sam grinned at him over the rim of his paper cup. “Wouldn’t that be nice? Somehow I don’t think it’ll be that easy.”

“Suppose not.”

They fell silent until they had finished their coffees. Nate tapped the back of Sam’s hand. “So how much time you got left?”

Sam chewed his lips, an uncharacteristically shy action. Although, after fifteen years, Nate had to admit that he might not know what was characteristic of his brother anymore.

“‘bout ten weeks. Took me a moment to get my bearings and find you.”

Nate nodded. “That’s not too bad, we can do ten weeks.”

Sam looked up at him with a half-smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Nathan, we don’t even know if there is a treasure. We could be on a wild goose chase for all we know. I didn’t–” He scowls down at his hands, lips curling sardonically, “I was an idiot to talk about it at all. I just–I guess I didn’t think I’d ever get outta there, is all. It was just a fantasy, something to keep me occupied.”

Nate couldn’t say anything, his chest feeling too tight to speak. He only realized his hand had still been lying on top of Sam’s when Sam pulled away and stood up.

“Let’s catch our plane, come on.”

The last stretch to Italy took less than three hours and Nate slept for almost all of the way. He woke once when the stewardess came by with inquiries about coffee, and then for a second time when the pilot announced the landing descent. In his sleep, Nate had dropped against his older brother’s side like a magnet, his body’s natural reaction to Sam’s presence even after all this time. He rolled his cheek against Sam’s shoulder, trying to shake himself into wakefulness.

“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty.”

Nate dug his elbow into his brother’s side, earning a soft grunt. “Shut up.”

He noticed Sam subtly flexing his fingers after Nate had sat back upright, so his arm had probably fallen asleep with Nate leaning against him. Nate couldn’t feel bad about it, after all Sam could have woken him. The fact that he hadn’t despite his own discomfort made something warm bloom inside of Nate.

They were both stiff and a little cranky by the time they had claimed their luggage. Twelve plus hours cramped in economy class were no joke and Nate didn’t care if he looked weird stretching in the middle of the airport terminal.

They hauled a taxi to drive them to the hotel they had booked for the next two nights. It wasn’t the Hilton or anything but Nate didn’t mind simple accommodation. Preferred it actually. It meant more privacy and fewer questions asked. To save money, they had only rented one room – another thing that Nate didn’t mind.

He and his brother had always shared on their explorations. It was cheaper and it made it easier to throw ideas around and plan their next steps if they were in the same room. They had both been sound sleepers, not bothered by noise thanks to growing up in an orphanage, crowded into one room with ten older boys.

In a way, having one room for the two of them was already a luxury. Maybe that was why he had moved in with Elena so quickly, entirely unused to sleeping alone. He had found it too quiet, too strange not to be able to hear other people’s breathing, giving him a sense of security.

Now, the two of them gathered at the small, round table to lay out their plans for the evening. Sully had left a pair of monkey suits for the party and a set of worker overalls for them for the climb in. The Rossi Estate would be carefully patrolled and they wouldn’t get in without an invitation. Inside, Sully would be waiting for them. After that, they would probably have to wing it since they didn’t really know what to expect. They would have to find a way into storage and who knows what the security system was like. Sully had e-mailed them blueprints of the place but there was always a chance that, for an exclusive auction like this, enhanced security measures were in place. People tended to be on higher alert and they would have to be more careful.

It wasn’t anything they hadn’t managed to pull off before.

Nate had to admit that his brother looked exceptionally good in a tux. They had had to play dress-up for jobs before but back then, both of them had been scrawnier and if not anything else, prison had definitely had a positive effect on Sam’s physique. Nate had always liked exercising to stay in shape but his brother was all muscle now, his broad shoulders filling out the tuxedo almost obscenely.

“Come here for a minute,” he said when he caught Nate staring at him. Quickly, Nate shook himself out of his trance and shrugged into the jacket.

“Help me with this, will ya?” Sam held out his arms, biceps bulging under the crisp-white fabric, motioning for Nate to insert the cufflinks for him. Nate pinched the stiff fabric between his fingers, turning the cufflinks over in his hand. They weren’t anything fancy, simple silver and black, and Nate had completely missed them on the table.

Sam shook out his arms after Nate had finished, adjusting the collar of the shirt. “I hate these things. So restricting.”

Nate had to grin at this brother’s uncomfortable grimace. “The sooner we’re in and outta there, the sooner you can take it off.”

He hadn’t meant for it to sound suggestive, and to Sam it probably hadn’t, but Nate still winced slightly. With the way he had been staring at his brother before, he couldn’t keep his brain from making the non-PG connection.

“Anyway,” he turned around, “We got everything?”

Sam laughed, a low and warm sound that made Nate turn back around. “Not so fast, little brother.” He looped the strip of the bowtie around Nate’s neck, playfully tugging him closer. Nate stumbled a little, surprised, and reflexively steadied himself on Sam’s shoulders.

“Warn a guy,” he says, voice too hoarse. Sam scoffed and pulled tie tight against Nate’s Adam’s apple. His fingers brushed Nate’s chin as he worked and Nate tilted his head back to escape the contact. His hands were slightly shaky and he didn’t even know why.

Sam’s presence was still too foreign to him, still too unreal and so fragile, as if he could vanish into thin air at any moment. Nate was still afraid that he wouldn’t be allowed to keep him.

“All right,” Sam patted him on the chest, “Lookin’ good. Let’s go.”

They quickly hopped into their overalls and hoofed it to a lookout by the Rossi Estate. The climb in went off without a hitch and it was exhilarating to be doing this again, together with his brother. Nate had always had a love for dangerous situations, nurtured by Sam after setting the initial example. They had always worked well together, silent communication, sensing the other’s position without looking, and it had made them nearly infallible as a team.

Until that day in Panama, where they had been surprised by Rafe’s diversion from the original plan and the sheer number of armed guards that had come after them. The memory was a little too hazy now to recall correctly because it had been too devastating to think about, and now it was crumpled, unavailable to Nate, who had spent the last two days trying to figure out what he had missed. How could he not have known that his brother was still alive?

Fresh grief for all the time they had been robbed of, Nate sank to the cushioned chaise in the room in which Sully had been waiting for them. Sam, who had walked ahead of him, stopped, turned. “Everything okay? You didn’t hurt yourself climbing, did you?”

Nate shook his head. “Nah, just glad we made it.” He meant it in every sense of the words and Sam returned his small smile.

“Boys,” Sully interrupted, “There’s time for you to flirt later, we gotta get a move on.”

Sam guffawed a laugh while heat shot into Nate’s face. He pressed into the shadow by the door on their way out, hoping it would hide his blush.

Of course, their stint didn’t go over without complications but all three of them were masters at improvisation by now and they managed to scrape by just so. Hurtling out of the driveway in a stolen limousine, Nate thought about Rafe and what it had felt like to hear his name again, to know he had been here, too, so close to Sam and Sully, and even closer to thwarting their little operation. He was the one who should have rotted in prison for fifteen years, not Sam.

Only, that wasn’t exactly fair. None of them would have deserved to land in prison back then, or maybe all of them would have deserved it, Nate didn’t know. What he did know was that he was furious, angry beyond measure that Sam had been dealt the bad hand instead of Rafe, who had grown up to be even more of an asshole than he had been fifteen years ago.

Sam grabbed his elbow, shouting “We did it!” over the roar of the engine and the howl of the wind. He was dangling Saint Dismas in front of Nate’s eyes but all Nate could see was the white-toothed grin nearly splitting his brother’s face in two.

[aubretia23]

A Ridiculous Idea Part 2

Title : A Ridiculous Idea

Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER : I do not own Naruto, its franchise or anything related to it. All recognisable characters, situations and premises are copyright of Masashi Kishimoto, Shueisha, Shonen Jump and Viz Media.

SPECIFIC DISCLAIMER : This fanfiction is a sequel to The Other Talk and its sequel The Other Other Talk. Both are fanfictions written by KuriQuinn and thus her intellectual property. I have taken permission from her to write and publish a sequel to them. Therefore I will try my best to stick to events and interpretations of characters according to her. The keyword  here being “try”.

Author Note : Thank you KuriQuinn for the permission. This is my second attempt at fanfiction. Also I am not KuriQuinn, so the writing style will be different. Please bear with me. English is not my native tongue. The variant of English used here is Indian. I have also used my own headcanons , so it might not be an exact sequel but whatever.

As long as you enjoy it, it does not matter.

Alright I wrote this before Episode 8 came out so I don’t think I can stick to canon anymore. This is a fanfic anyway. Also I thought of making this a five part series earlier but now it will probably be a three parter. Therefore, I am renaming the prologue as Chapter 1. This chapter is long and goes a bit in depth with the situation but I will try to steer it back to lightheartedness in the next one.

I don’t know about other countries but in India, marriage registration and weddings are not the same. There is a civil wedding and a legal marriage. If your marriage is registered, then you are legally married but a civil wedding is almost always happens alongside it. It gives societal legitimacy and acknowledgement by the family, the extended clan and the society. If you got married in a civil wedding but didn’t register yet, your wedding will be considered legally valid but it leaves you in a precarious situation if you ever have to prove your marital status especially if you don’t have photos or wedding guests or distant relatives to vouch for the wedding.

~~~~

A veil of whispers and murmurs descends upon the assembly. Naruto nods to Shizune who informs the clans’ leaders that the emergency meeting was over. As the last of the leaders file out, a handful of close and relevant people stay back. Shikamaru shuts the door of the hall in order to ensure complete privacy for what was to come next.

“This is utterly outrageous.” Koharu bites out furiously through her toothless mouth.

“The sole Uchiha scion and one of the only two Uzumaki scions cannot marry each other. They have to marry someone else in order to carry on their clan lineages. They are the clan leaders on top of that. Two clan leaders marrying each other is unprecedented. Seventh, you must track your son and your apprentice down. You must stop them before this sacrilege occurs.”

“They love each other. And they want to merge the two clans - the Uchiha and the Uzumaki - into one.” Naruto informs her tiredly.

After all, Himawari’s prodigious Byakugan prowess qualifies her for the leadership of the Hyuga. Even though he doesn’t want it for her, Himawari’s enthusiasm and closeness to her maternal clan has elevated her to the status of the unofficial Hyuga heiress who will succeed her still childless and unmarried aunt. Perhaps if he tries, Naruto can persuade her to carry on the Uzumaki lineage for the sake of the village but he knows that Himawari’s happiness lies in the Hyuga. Her smile is something he can die for to protect.

Koharu and Homura stare at him scandalised.

“Clans branching out is one thing, clans merging together is unheard of-” A laughter cuts off Homura.

Hanabi rolls down to the floor at this point, her stomach aching due to incessant laughter.

Kakashi, his eyes crinkling, grins behind his mask, cementing his status as the only one besides her in the entire hall who is amused at the situation.

“This is outrageous! There is no way that those two are getting away with this.”

Sasuke hisses at Hiashi’s thunderous declaration, his head stubbornly throbbing in pain.

“I had an entire wedding planned out for those two!” Ino wails out, sobbing. Her doting aunt tendencies were at their strongest for Sarada, despite her niece’s stubborn aversion to cheesy romances.

“Well, everyone knew that Boruto and Sarada were meant to be. I mean, everybody knew they were in love with each other since they were in diapers.” Iruka was met with sour looks from Naruto and Sakura. Sasuke shoots him a dirty glare while Hinata shuts her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation, her other arm wrapping around her middle consolingly.

Shino sighs at this. Chouji tries to nervously evade looking at the concerned foursome.

“It’s like it was just yesterday​ when they were twelve or thirteen. All blushy-blushy over each other and Boruto declaring that he will protect Sarada and support her as Hokage and what not.” Moegi reminisces, a bright grin slowly breaking out on her face. The new Ino-Shika-Cho sniggers at this.

“Yeah, we even have a bet going on who will realise their feelings first and who will confess first. With Naruto and Sasuke’s dense and oblivious genes being unfortunately dominant, nobody thought​ that it will amount to anything before they turned twenty or something.” Tsunade turns towards Shizune.

Naruto raises an eyebrow at this declaration.

“It is a village-wide bet.” Shizune admits shamefacedly.

“Forget that. They won’t be able to get married. They both are underage.” Temari brings everyone back to the point.

“Well, the law states that the marriageable age is sixteen. Although you need parental permission to get married before turning eighteen.” Shikamaru wants this meeting to be over as soon as possible. Perhaps a cup or two of really strong alcohol might just do him some good.

“Temari’s right. Once the two realise that they won’t be able to get married without your legal permission, they will come back on their own.” Sai tries to reassure his former teammates and Hinata.

“They won’t come back.” Hinata’s quiet statement can be heard over the babel.

“And why not?” is all a frowning Konohamaru manages with broken jaw.

“Because they have our written permission.” Sakura informs dryly.

The hall falls silent.

“What the hell, Sakura?! Why would you guys give them permission to get married while they are still underage? They could have easily waited till they both turned eighteen. That’s a little over an year away!” Ino screeches at her best friend.

“Sarada is pregnant.” Sasuke informs them darkly, the words coming out from a far away place. At least in Sasuke’s mind.

The assembly looks at Sasuke in utter silence.

“Who’s the fa-” Sai cuts himself off as he realises the utter stupidity of his question.

“When did this happen?” Temari demands.

“Well, Sarada is six weeks pregnant.” Naruto replies with a sigh.

The entire assembly stills at the implication of these words.

Two months ago, Uzumaki Boruto was sent on a highly dangerous S-ranked mission. Despite the support of the new triclan team, the mission took a dangerous turn when Kawaki got involved. Sarada and Mitsuki had to be sent in. Boruto completed his mission but Kawaki escaped. Not before fatally injuring the former, one which put him in a week long coma, ripped his vitals apart and nearly costed him his dojutsu and life. It was only due to the timely and combined medical intervention of Sarada, Mitsuki and Inojin that Boruto came out of this mission alive. The scar running down Boruto’s right eye is no longer angrily red but still serves as a reminder of the near-death experience.

Naruto looks at the third Sannin for an explanation. Mitsuki shrugs.

“Sarada was hysterical when Boruto went into coma. We had to knock her out to let her body rest a bit. We left them alone after Boruto woke up because all he would do at that point of time was to ask for Sarada. No one disturbed them after that. At least not for the night after he woke up.”

Mitsuki’s account fitted together with what the Uzumaki and Uchiha couples could glean out from their children after Sasuke calmed down enough from attempting to murder his student. The teenaged couple was reluctant to give out details but eventually under Hinata’s disappointed stare, the one which always made Sasuke feel as though he has kicked a puppy, they gave in.

Underneath what at first seemed to be immature and rebellious teenage dating and sex, and consequent irresponsibly accidental pregnancy, a different story emerged, albeit if only by a bit.

Boruto’s near-death experience had brought him and Sarada to terms with their deep-rooted feelings for each other. Their verbal confirmation of mutual love, trust and commitment was followed by a physical reaffirmation of their passion for each other. Undisturbed by their teammates and traumatised by their experience, the new couple forgot about everything except each other. Everything including something very important.

Contraception.

They had dated for a month after that under the guise of medical checkups, recuperative exercises and training, mostly because they knew their fathers would immediately deem their relationship to be inappropriate or immature or both, before one evening, Sarada began feeling nauseated at the smell of fried octopus while on a date. Boruto had used his dojutsu in order to figure out whether her chakra was off-balance or not. All he saw was a foreign chakra in her lower belly.

Sarada and Boruto were left staring at each other, frozen in shock, as the possible implication seeped in. After several pregnancy tests bought by Boruto’s henged shadow clones, Sarada confirmed her pregnancy.

After initial bafflement, a mild tantrum and some tears later, joy and laughter filled the otherwise empty Uchiha household. Boruto had proposed marriage to Sarada who answered it with pushing him into the nearest bedroom and getting down on her knees.

Unfortunately, the said bedroom belonged to her parents who were not supposed to be in the village for some time. The said parents had returned without a warning.

Once the Uchiha couple got over their initial trauma, they called a kangaroo meeting with their daughter’s boyfriend at the Ichiraku. The meeting ended with Sarada breaking Konohamaru’s jaw for his uninvited interference and Sakura being generally threatening. Boruto had not spoken a word since then and his back had begun to hurt due to rigidity. Sasuke’s death glares might have something to do with it.

When the news reached the Uzumaki couple, Hinata and Naruto were at a loss for words, embarrassment and bafflement being their default settings.

After accidently informing their parents about their pregnancy later that night at dinner at the Uzumaki residence, Sarada had stubbornly refused to back down after her father attempted to murder the father of her child. Sasuke’s irrational anger at that point was met with immature tantrums and comebacks from Sarada’s side. Which was enough to tire her out sooner that expected. Boruto had caught her before she could hit the floor.

His piercing blue eye met his mentor’s mismatched black and violet ones. For the first time in his life, Sasuke felt afraid of his student.

While Sakura checked up on her daughter, scanning her with Mystical Palms and asking her general questions regarding her health, pregnancy and sex life, Hinata had walked Himawari to the Hyuuga Compound where she would be spending the night. Kakashi stuck around hoping to dissipate tensions. Once they all gathered back in the Uzumaki living room, Boruto and Sarada sat down with their parents and Kakashi, hoping to come to a rational resolution.

Protectively wrapping his arms around her, Boruto explained rationally what Sarada was expressing emotionally.

That he and Sarada loved each other. Had done so for years.

That they were dating seriously. And sleeping together. And had no intentions of ever taking a break.

That they were going to become parents.

That their child is the proof of their love for each other.

That they wanted to get married.

That even without the baby, they would have gotten married the day Sarada turned eighteen.

That he and Sarada had enough money to establish a married life and family of their own. Being talented at a young age meant being sent on high ranking missions early irrespective of their nin rank which translated to a high income.

That all they wanted was love and support from both sets of their parents for their child and themselves.

And of course, being still underage, their permission to get married as soon as possible given the circumstances.

Sasuke had stormed out of the house at the end of this conversation. Sarada was reduced to tears while Boruto tried to console her.

Sakura was furious at this point. Whether it was at her husband or daughter or the situation itself was unknown. Possibly the first option because she stormed out of the Uzumaki residence as well after telling Sarada that she is going to put her father in his place.

Hinata and Naruto seemed bewildered even at this point. But soon, Naruto sat down to lecture Boruto on irresponsibility - general, sexual and marital. Hinata diced some fruits and along with a bowl of custard managed to draw Sarada into a conversation over them. Kakashi wandered off outside, hoping to catch his two former students before they damaged public property.

He soon found the couple at an all-night bar. Sasuke could have been mistaken for being passed out on Sakura’s lap after what seemed to be several bottles of very high grade sake.

Except he was sobbing quite audibly. The loss of his only beloved daughter to another man was just too much for him to bear.

Sakura was gently patting her husband’s head, her face decidedly softened since the entire drama began. As she caught Kakashi’s eye, she gently informed her husband about the onlooker. Sasuke immediately pulled himself up to sit straight, swaying a little, and glaring drunkenly at Kakashi, daring him silently to repeat this to Naruto. Kakashi merely smiled in amusement and joined them, ordering shochu for himself and umeshu for Sakura.

Half an hour later, they were joined by Naruto and Hinata. He was carrying a marriage contract. One with an underage permission clause attached to it.

Hinata informed Sakura as the latter poured out a cup of umeshu for the former that Boruto and Sarada had decided to spend the night together at a hotel. Sasuke made an attempt to bolt out of there but Sakura’s steady glare pinned him down.

Naruto broached out the subject of unifying the two clans. It was something unheard of before. Boruto and Sarada’s status as clan leaders easily disqualified each other as a marriage candidate for each other. But Boruto figured that if the two clans were merged into one, something that should not be very difficult granted the meagre number of both the Uchiha and the Uzumaki, he and Sarada, as the joint co-leaders of the new clan, could welcome their child without the explosive question of which clan did he or she belong to. The question of kekkei genkai was a different matter altogether, one which was dependent on sheer luck.

Ultimately, all four of the parents decided to sign over the contract. The reality of a grandchild was becoming more dominant over their children’s idiocy. The two to-be grandmothers began discussing the cuteness and gender of the unborn baby, while Naruto and Sasuke ended up having a chakraless fist fight after the former goaded the latter by saying that he will be the more favourite one out of the two grandfathers. Kakashi smiled in serene satisfaction.

Since the clock at the bar already read 3:43 AM, Hinata thought it would be best to just discreetly have it delivered to their children via one of Sasuke’s hawk summons. It would certainly cheer up both their children, Sarada more specifically to be honest. Half an hour later, they received a note from Boruto thanking them for everything.

Naruto announced that he would be heading to the Hokage’s office. Clan merging or whatever would need a good amount of legal paperwork.

Sasuke and Sakura decided to return to their home. Sasuke being wobbly on his feet had to be supported by Sakura. Hinata decided to go over to the Hyuga Compound, hoping to meet her father personally and inform him about this turn of events. Kakashi decided to stay back at the bar, surrounding himself with more alcohol and pulling out his orange book.

At 6:00 AM, Naruto sought out Shikamaru for advice on legal aspects of the merger.

At 7:30 AM, he called for an emergency meeting of clan leaders at 9:00 AM in which Boruto and Sarada’s upcoming nuptials would be announced. A private meeting with the Konoha Council was avoided, firstly because it was a private family matter, and secondly, because of the excessive high-handed nosiness of the two Elders. With all the legal paperwork set right, thanks to a disgruntled and unsettled Shikamaru and his genius brain, Naruto knew the two oldies could no longer interfere.

At 8:50 AM, he was presented a letter by a very calm and pleased Mitsuki.

It explained in Boruto’s rather neat handwriting that he and Sarada are eloping.

That they had registered their marriage at the Konoha Marriage Registration Office at 8:10 AM. The new Ino-Shika-Cho served as their three witnesses.

That he and Sarada intend to exchange vows somewhere alone and to have a long honeymoon as they know that they won’t get any alone time together once the baby was born.

That he hopes that they forgive them.

That they will write to them every week.

That they will be back before the due date because Sarada wants her mother to be the midwife.

And that they will have another wedding just for their parents and the rest of the village on their first wedding anniversary.

At 8:58 AM, a murderous Sasuke had his ribs broken by Sakura when they learnt about this. Hinata was informed discreetly by Shikamaru just prior to the start of the meeting. The look she sent in the direction of the village gates was spine-chilling.

Koharu is the first to gain back her footing.

“This is a sacrilege! What kind of an abomination would this child be?! Born of a half-breed Uchiha and a hybrid of Uzumaki and Hyuga? Seventh, you not only need to stop these two, separate them and forbid them from seeing each other ever again, but also annul this marriage.”

Homura agrees to this, “But first of all, Hokage, you must ensure that this monster of a child is not born. The bloodlines of Byakugan and Sharingan mixing into one being will yield no good.”

Everyone turns towards them in slow motion as the words sink. The room’s temperature drops by a good several degrees.

Sakura is the first to act in the defence of her child’s child. Homura is thrown out of the conference hall on the fourth floor of the Hokage office building, the glass window shattering on his head while on his path down.

Koharu has her chakra points blocked by an absolutely furious Hinata, her activated Byakugan ablaze with fury. Her pointed fingers threaten to damage her heart if the Elder moves even a little.

Naruto feels anger leaving his tensed shoulders as he nods to Shizune to pick up Koharu and send her to the hospital and on her way there, also pick up Homura if he is still alive even after having each and every bone shattered by Sakura’s punch. Sasuke’s broken ribs were the only thing which prevented him from going after the duo and ensuring their demise. The murderous intent of the rest of the gathering was ebbing was well.

The whole group of friends and extended honorary family was protective about the future Ninth Hokage and her bodyguard. Quite naturally, it was immediately and instinctively extended to their child.

A cool wave of exasperated silence and exhausted contemplation washes over the occupants of the hall.

Sai laughs out. “Well, I suppose this is karma. “

“For what?” Sasuke raises an eyebrow at him.

“For having a year long sexathlon of a honeymoon and giving birth to a secret baby about whom no one knew outside the village.” Ino trills in.

Sasuke groans out loud while general amusement at his expense ensues.

Everything will be fine, Naruto supposes. As his eyes meet Hinata’s, a smile blossoming on her face, Naruto feels lighters, happier, giddier.

A grandchild would be nice, he thinks. Yeah, it would be very nice.

“Well, if anything, all this will come back to bite them in the ass.” Sakura says lightly. A tremor of devilish amusement enters her voice. A dangerous smirk slowly snakes out on her increasingly gleeful face.

“What do you mean by that?” Hinata frowns.

“I found this out while I examined Sarada. I wanted to inform Boruto and Sarada about this after the meeting but since they have decided to behave irresponsibly and idiotically again, I suppose it will be cosmic punishment when they learn about this.”

“Learn about what? Is the baby and Sarada alright?” Sasuke asks.

“ You mean the babies.”

“Huh?” The entire group looks at her bewildered.

“Boruto and Sarada are going to have twins.” Sakura says happily.

Naruto feels a sense of dread entering him. Flashbacks of Boruto’s antics in childhood and admittedly his own come back to the fore.

Konoha is truly doomed, he thinks meekly.

[airquietworks]

Weightlifting (BNHA one-shot)

Summary: "Those were his eyes. Eyes that could stare up at the sky and say, 'I will punch through you.' Those were the eyes that she tried to summon in the mirror every day. She never was able to." Ochako speaks with All Might about her future because misery loves company

One. Two. Three. Four. The fire in Ochako’s muscles ached as she strained against the barbell, but she pushed herself through the pain with deep, measured breaths. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. She found solace in the cadence of her exercise, revelling in the burning sensation that slowly spread through her arms and lungs. She had learned to appreciate the heat, using it to drive herself forward. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. The burning ache grew more intense, but she resisted her urge to use her quirk and end the routine. She had never lifted this much weight before, but she needed to keep improving. She had to if she wanted to be more like — She stomped down hard on the thought. Not the time. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. “Just...a little...bit...more,” she muttered to herself under her breath, fighting desperately to maintain her rhythm. She was thankful there were few people around the indoor fitness facility this late at night. As much as she enjoyed working out with her friends, she felt an increasing need to keep a more single-minded focus during her routine. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. “Twenty!” she gasped out, tapping the bar with her fingertip and making it weightless. She gently lifted it back onto the rack before bringing her fingers together. “And release,” she managed to pant out, taking large gulps of air to try to cool the heat in her body. Ochako took a large swig from her water bottle laying next to her, savouring the cool refreshment. She set up and scanned her eyes on the room around her. Save for her, the bright facility was empty, the machines and weights deathly quiet. The windows showed only darkness, the sunlight that had guided her inside having long since departed. She sighed out after her long drink, deciding to start her cooldown stretches before calling it a night. She lamented losing track of the time again, and the persistent questions she would probably get from her dorm mates about what exactly she was spending her evenings doing. Training, Ochako said time and time again, but the quirked eyebrows and follow up questions were starting to grate on her nerves. Her friends were sceptical that she would actually spend her evenings training, considering how loaded their days already were with hero practice. Mina, in particular, was unrelenting, finding moments when she was alone to ask her if she was sneaking off because she was in love — A flash of green hair appeared in her mind’s eye and she shook her head in desperation to lose the image, immediately starting her final stretches, focusing on steady breaths. She was still training. She could save such thoughts for later. Or never. Never sounded good to her. Ochako reached down towards her toes, feeling her back muscles stretch out as she held the position. She put all of her thought into each movement, losing herself to the single-minded distraction. But as she winded the routine out, she struggled to keep her mind from going adrift. Her thoughts and feelings were such a chaotic mess these days, rendering her dazed and confused as they zigzagged across each other. She tried spending more time centred on her solitary drive to improve herself and her physical capabilities. She put her all into becoming a stronger hero, which she had largely been successful in achieving. But the other recesses of her mind continue to nag, a lingering discontent and even….resentment?...continuing to trouble her. The quiet ring of the door to the building snapped her out of her reverie and she panicked at the thought of getting caught here this late. She made a quick step towards her gym bag, trying to gather her belongings before turning her eyes to the sudden intruder, some distance away from her corner of the gym, in hopes she had not been spotted. To her surprise, the new presence was no student, but All Might himself in the flesh. The now eternally-thin frame of the man was adorned in a baggy grey tracksuit, his eyes scanning around the room for any sight of anyone. Instinctively, Ochako kneeled down behind the weight rack, trying to hide from the teacher’s scanning. She wasn’t sure what he was doing here, and there was still a few minutes left before the facility closed to students, but she figured it would be best to play it safe. She peeked her eyes over to see All Might, to her surprise, approach one of the heavier weight racks on the other side of the training facility. He started to load weights onto the bar, panting in an effort to lift some of the heavier discs. She watched on in amazement, grimacing slightly as he grit his teeth. Like most everyone, it was still taking her time to get used to seeing the world’s number one hero as frail as he was now. She may not have idolised him the way Deku did, but everyone on Earth could appreciate All Might! Seeing him reduced to this made her feel sick to her stomach. Probably why he hasn’t been teaching classes as much, she thought to herself, recalling the almost dirge-like dread that had befallen the 1A classroom the first time he had stepped in for basic heroics class. He had tried to explain how he was still staying on as a teacher and wanted to continue spreading his wealth of hero knowledge to them, assuring them that he would still guide them, in a desperate effort to recapture his old bravado. But the speech’s impact was limited as his student’s struggled to come to grips with the fact that All Might was actually the wispy and persistently blood-puking man before them. Though she had tried to compliment and thank All Might for his lessons with more vigour than she usually would (and encouraged her fellow classmates to join her in this), anyone could see the newfound uncertainty in their classroom dynamic had disappointed him. Now, he seemed to be doing all he could to avoid the room, with heroics being filled in by other teachers while he disappeared from student view. Nobody could be sure what he was up to most days, but there were plenty of unflattering whispers and rumours flying about. The world’s greatest hero loaded another weight, evenly balanced and looking absurdly heavy for a man of his stature. He panted, standing straight and taking a moment to appreciate his handiwork. Ochako watched on in a mixture of shock and horror; he wasn’t seriously planning to lift that much, was he? Her eyes scanned around the room and in that moment, she realized All Might didn’t have a spotter. She could generally get away without one thanks to her quirk, but she couldn’t imagine he could manage like this. All Might laid himself onto the bench and started to lift the heavy barbell. To Ochako’s surprise, he actually managed a couple of heavily-strained reps. Despite the thin frame, there must be some real muscle beneath it all. But his struggles gradually increased, the bar getting dangerously close to his chest. His arms finally gave out, causing the weight to crush him. She immediately leapt into action to help. “Sensei!” she shouted as the bar caused him to retch and cough up blood. She ran over and put a hand on the bar, grabbing onto it and lifting it off of him with her quirk. He took a deep, mournful breath, eyes widening at seeing her there. “Ura--urKA!” All Might tried to exclaim, interrupted by another spurt of blood. He covered his mouth and sprung up, flailing his arm weakly as if trying to shoo her away. “Sensei, you...you shouldn’t be doing that!” Ochako scolded. Student-teacher etiquette be damned, he was going to kill himself! He was pushing himself to the point of insanity, far too much like Deku. Her eye twitched as his face ran through her mind again and she briefly pondered how much like All Might he was. But she let it sit there, keeping her attention focused on the more immediate problem. “Uraraka, my dear! Your assistance is most appreciated!” He flashed a wide grin and a trembling thumbs up, his face seeming to contort slightly to match his once glorious visage. “But don’t fret, I had the situation well in hand!” Ochako affixed him with a quirked eyebrow and unsure eyes. All Might wavered under her gaze, bringing his shaking thumb back down to his side. “It didn't look like it. Why are you here, anyway?” Her curiosity was as piqued as her concern. It didn’t make any sense for him to be using the student facility, let alone trying to sneak in late at night. His face fell back into its grotesque shape and he eyes flew straight to the floor, refusing to meet her searching gaze. “...The teachers will kick me out if I try this in the staff training room,” All Might muttered. A bolt of shock thrust through him and his eyes suddenly bore into her. “Don’t tell anyone!” he flailed his hands desperately to implore her co-operation. “I don’t want anybody to know I was doing this.” Ochako sighed in response, exasperated by the familiar self-destructive determination. Deku really embodied his hero far too closely. Her eye twitched again in annoyance. “I promise I won’t tell anybody,” Ochako replied, flashing him a weak smile. “But you should really work your way up slowly on the weights, okay?” All Might gave her a mournful look, his sunken eyes etched with a weariness that Ochako had never seen before. But he breathed a deep sigh and nodded his head in submission. Ochako figured he probably couldn’t bear actually admitting the weakness verbally. “Well, good night,” she said quietly, not knowing what else to say and eager to leave the awkward moment behind her. She was drained and her nerves felt frayed at seeing All Might that weak. She sought the peaceful solace of bed, as much as her dreams tended to trouble her these days. With a deep sigh, Ochako plodded off for her abode, her posture unconsciously slouching as she walked through the glass doors of the facility into the darkness beyond. She was glad that another day of putting up her sunny facade was finally over. Unfortunately for her, she did not get very far. “Wait!” the deep voice of All Might exclaimed from behind her. She turned to see her teacher trailing behind, staring fiercely into her, through her. His gaze was unnerving; she did not like the thought of being the subject of his ire. “You seem...you look troubled,” All Might said, voice betraying an uncertainty that did not match his stare. “In class lately, too. You do well, but I can tell that...that you’re distracted.” The words pierced through her skin, getting dangerously close to her fragile young heart. She tried her best to dissuade her teacher with a reassuring smile. “I’ve just been a little exhausted lately, is all,” Ochako filled her response with the bright cheeriness she was known for. “Training has gotten pretty hectic! But I’m doing fine.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond to her face, twisting herself around and moving with quicker steps to escape the conversation. All Might didn’t see her mouth fall into a deep grimace. “It’s about Midoriya, isn’t it?" The question sliced right through her, gripping onto her legs and rendering her motionless. All of her carefully managed efforts to deny, to evade, to hide the tempest raging within her from the outside world were so close to being rendered for nought. She trembled slightly as she breathed in, trying to regain her composure and stop herself from spilling her guts out on the cool pavement. Not him. Not now. Another day. The short, quick justifications spun rapidly through her mind as she lifted her expression back into the gentle smile that masked her turmoil. “Like I said, I’m…” her excuse crashed into the wall of All-Might’s presence, looming over her with ferocious eyes, the once beastly man having snuck up during her self-distraction. “Uh…” Ochako sputtered, at a loss for words as her voice fell into the abyss in the eyes of her mentor. “You...you can...trust me, Uraraka. You don’t have to lie to me.” His voice was raw and open, lacking the usual facade he tried to maintain in classes to imitate his old, powered vocal chords. She stared at him blankly, lips quivering, searching desperately within herself to find the steel to rebuke his question. “Why don’t we just talk? Just to discuss hero work, of course.” His hand gestured to a nearby, plain-looking metal bench just ahead of them, innocent under the overhanging lights of the walkway. But she knew the unoffending bench would spell her untimely emotional demise. Yet despite much of her mind screaming in protest, her feet slowly walked toward the bench, taking a seat and placing her hands on her lap. Her heart had seized her movements and she did not have the strength or energy to evade the inquiry of her teacher. And something...something in those eyes made her feel like she could trust him. She didn’t know All Might well personally, but maybe he could help her sort out her hero problems. There was also kindness in his eyes, that reminded her of...of Deku. The one that made her hero’s journey so fraught. All Might deposited himself on the bench next to her, his eyes never leaving his young student. A stretch of terrible silence extended between them as Ochako struggled to figure out what exactly she should say. She hardly had a firm grasp on her heart herself. She had been struggling to keep it locked in chains, not wanting it to get in her — or anyone else’s — way. It tore her up inside and continued to rattle in its confinement on a daily basis.The thought of unlocking it and baring it before anybody made her stomach churn unpleasantly, fear and embarrassment shrinking her lungs whenever she considered talking about those feelings with someone. But the demanding beat of her chest had grown increasingly frustrating, making the already difficult path she was setting herself on all the more so. She couldn’t take it anymore. She was realizing she had to talk to somebody, especially if all of her painstaking efforts to disguise her turmoil were not working. That she was taking All Might of all people intimidated her, but her mind gripped onto a single thread of justification. She could just tell him she was anxious about hero work. Keep the talk focused. Who better than him to help her with that?. It was the best compromise she could think of. She wouldn’t have to tell him that she loved — “Have you ever…” she used the sound of her own voice to roughly shove the track of her mind in a different direction. “Wanted to be like someone so much, but terrified you could never measure up? As a hero, I mean.” Ochako kept her glance glued to her track pants, unwilling to pull her eyes up and see his reaction. She ran through the words in her mind, praying that they were ambiguous enough to disguise some of the more embarrassing aspects of her internal dispute. A surge of anxiety rushed inside her as she considered her own question and the silence stretched between them. She chided herself on her own stupidity. Of course All Might, the greatest hero ever, would have no such — “...Every day of my life.” Her head flipped towards him, mouth agape at the reply. But he did not meet her glance in return, his face solemn and downcast, shadowed by the top of his hair. She couldn’t imagine what he was thinking about. “...And every day now, I look at all of you kids, and think that.” His voice was tinged with a misery that made Ochako’s eyes mist as she recalled his latest classes. “But that is just part of being a hero.” His dark eyes, prominent on his emaciated face, shifted back towards her. Within them was a blazing fire that made Ochako gasp. Those were his eyes. Eyes that could stare up at the sky and say, “I will punch through you.” Those were the eyes that she tried to summon in the mirror every day. She never was able to. “But you know what you do?” His voice grew deeper, the fire igniting it. He almost sounded like his old self. But the tremor in his limbs as he spoke conflicted with that. “You use that to drive yourself forward. You keep on reaching out for the very top, to live up to the ideal that you value. Every hero needs that — the camaraderie of competitiveness, the burning pursuit of doing the person next to you one better, plus ultra!” He stood up from his seat, blood dripping from his mouth as he raised a shaking fist up into the unmoving sky. In that moment, she could see the silhouette of the man he used to be. No, the man he still was, deep inside. The greatest hero ever. If only. If only her heart wasn’t bruised from trying to do just as he said. “But what if…” her voice felt soft and weak. Like she was. “What if it’s not possible, no matter what you do?” She lifted her gaze up to All Might and the fire she just saw was swiftly extinguished. A tear leaked out from the corner of her eye as she saw the harsh impact of her words deflate the mighty man before her. The silhouette evaporated as he eyed the dark ground, the thin, broken, echo of a man returning to the world. He sat back down, looking more defeated than she had ever seen him. The impossibility choked both of them into quiet. Ochako breathed in deeply, fighting back against the sadness that overflowed within her. She looked up at the sky and the stars she could never reach. There was a comfort to them, even as her own limits frustrated her. She could still admire them from afar. “I know he is going to be the greatest hero ever, someday." Those particular words felt as natural as breathing. "I...how...how could I possibly compare to that? To even get remotely close, I know I have to put everything into it. And I am. But for every step I take, it feels like he takes a leap. I can’t keep up.” She closed her eyes, head throbbing as she let her doubt pound against her skull. She didn’t let on the other part of her conundrum; how this all mixed in with her affection for him. If she couldn’t keep pace with him as a hero, as a rival, she certainly couldn’t as a...whatever it was she wanted to be to him. She didn’t know. “You keep pushing, just like you have.” His voice was soft, but the embers of his passion burned within it. Ochako weakly turned her head and her looked back to her teacher. His eyes bore into her once more, his brow creased in concern. "I know you’ve already been through a lot, but you’re really only just starting your journey. You haven’t realized your full potential yet. And I see a lot of it in you.” Her face flushed at the compliment as she tried to mull over the words. It may be true. Everyone in their class had a lot of growing to do and the future was uncertain. But there was little comfort in that. Already, the best of the best were clearly evident. She knew she wasn’t one of them. “I’m not going to lie. Your quirk is far from the most powerful out there. Other quirks can just do things you’re not capable of, enabling some to excel in ways you never will. There are those that will likely be able to do things impossible to you, simply by virtue of their quirk.” The truth of his analysis stung Ochako’s core, the faces of Bakuko, Todoroki and Deku flashing swiftly through her mind. “But you have to use that to drive yourself forward,” All Might broke through her inadequacy-fuelled fugue as his voice rose in tempo. “There are so many things even I couldn’t do. But making yourself drive through those limits is what being a hero is all about.” Her fingers gripped tightly into her pants as the words pushed against her like a mighty current, but she held against it, unmoving as stone. She had already been doing all of that! How could she possibly make up the gap, when her quirk would not let her?! “If you think you can’t do anything, look at me and say so.” Ice. Solid, creeping and biting into all of her insides as the words rang through her ears and filled her with guilt. As if under mind control, she meekly obeyed, looking up towards the frail man sitting next to her. The greatest hero ever. His quirk somehow extinguished, his body eerily thin, no more than an ordinary, but once extraordinary, human being. A man compelled to save everyone he could, now powerless to do so. He may as well have punched her in the gut. Ochako realized then she was focusing far too much on the rattling of her envious heart. She was so wrapped up in what she wasn’t that she was losing sight of who she was. What she was capable of. She had the power that could achieve her dreams. That could save lives. That could make her a hero. That could give her parents the life they deserved. She had power, unlike the man before her. Who was she to besmirch her own capabilities, when she could do so much? “Now that my hero days are over, the world needs the next generation of heroes. The world needs you, Uravity.” The sparks of his earlier fire were still there, deep in the abyss of his gaze. A fire he was entrusting to others, she knew. Ochako felt the first honest smile she had offered in some time rise above her rosy cheeks.   “Thank you, sensei. You really helped me.” A part of her wished she was more comfortable with him to offer more affection, but she settled for beaming up at him with her trademark grin. “Don’t mention it. Now, it’s getting late. Off to bed with you.” All Might looked very pleased with himself, a pleasant change of pace from the misery he had been carrying around of late. She hoped this talk might have made him feel a little lighter, too. Ochako needed no further prompting. She sprung up, feeling as if her quirk had finally managed to lift a huge weight off of her chest. There turmoil was still there, but she would channel it to reach higher. She wouldn’t let anyone hold her back, not Deku and certainly not herself. Ultimately, she needed to count her blessings that those pesky feelings were the only thing impeding her way forward at this point. She could push through them. Compared to what All Might was going through, virtually helpless without a quirk, this was nothing. Compared to the hardships Deku had been going through, she could handle this. She turned to walk back to her room, eager again for the comforting warmth of her bed. But she stopped, as a blazing thought streaked across her mind, demanding her attention. She turned her face back towards All Might, flashing him a toothy grin. “You’re still his hero, you know,” she said with a quiet confidence. She got a great deal of enjoyment from his shocked expression. “And you’re mine, too.” Ochako turned swiftly, catching his jaw trembling out of the corner of her eye. She giggled as she ran away, feeling lighter than air.

[magalarajoonideprohvetid]

1.10.2 ramadan.man [in english]

First part, Ramadan.man_12.1_last_saved_02/07, published in Nihilist.fm on 03/07/15;

second part, Ramadan.man_12.2_last_saved_17/07, published on author’s blog on 17/07/15;

full text in estonian in 6ism2e_dpi_error:_unsupported_personality, 2016, Nihilist.fm and ZA/UM, pages 89-98;

translation by Kristi Ockba

1.10.2 ramadan.man

Ramadan.man_12.1_last_saved_02/07

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It is evening. The boys were watching yet another episode of Avatar before I sent them off to bed. The time is 22:30 and I will soon be able to eat. The first day of fasting is about to end.

«Boys, today you must go to bed on your own.»

«Why?»

«Because I must now eat.»

«Why now?»

«Because it is Ramadan now. I do not eat during the day, but when the sun sets, I can start eating.»

«Why are you eating now?»

I am tired and hungry and so I snap: «Because otherwise I will die, if I don’t eat during the day and I don’t eat during the night either!» This was the wrong thing to say, but I am hungry and tired.

«I don’t want you to die!» Happy starts to cry.

«I don’t want to sleep, I want to eat,» Generous says without a care.

I love Happy’s sentimental sensitivity and Generous’ raw carelessness. I console and comfort Happy until he also decides that he would like to eat something. It is 11:00 pm. The three of us are sitting in the kitchen. Generous is eating some fried ham and Happy shares my Ramen noodles while his spaghetti is boiling. We are happy, happy to be the way we have been created. This is a tribal thing. The Vihalem tribe of United Autonomous Individuals. UAI —  it’s a tribal thing.  We are happy and free. Unfortunately millions of people around the world are not.

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My senses are tight, loaded. Supersensitive. I smell cigarettes before non-smokers do. At the Kristiine youth center some guy on his way out lights a cigarette. The hoodlum wanted to act tough and bend the rules. He was barred from the center for life. Serves him right, his stupid behavior didn’t just end badly for him, but also made me crave for a cigarette.

Walking down the street I can smell lovely perfumes, feminine and sweet, and the smell of cigarettes coming from those girls walking a few steps ahead of me.

There is a terrible smell coming from three guys sitting in bus number 46, just a few rows ahead of me. They smell of ethanol; it exits their bodies with every breath, from every pore. As they get up to get off the bus, I can sense garish stench of smegma. Bastard, wash your self or go get circumcised. Hobos.  

I can smell the aromas of food – everywhere. All food smells good. My stomach is no longer growling. It is much too empty to growl. Food is beautiful. I am on the terrace and I am thinking how  beautiful food would be in my mouth. The wind brushes through the leaves of trees. The wind is beautiful. It brushes me. Somewhere in the distance some people are making sandwiches and fruit bars. The time is 16:30 and I would be able to eat them in six hours and twelve minutes. By that time they will most probably be eaten.

I sense a some kind of smell, sweet, carried by the wind from the leaves. I do not know the source, but I can sense it sharply, suffocatingly. My senses are loaded. My senses are my superpowers. I am a starving superhero, I am Ramadan.man.

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I have started reading the Koran again. After the second Sura I always find myself thinking about Harut and Marut. Two angels, sent to earth with free will. On the first day they get everything wrong. In addition I am reading Abu Hamid Al-Ghazali’s Rescuer from Error/The Niche of Light. I so hope it will not be a disappointment. In the meantime, I skim through the posthumous catalog of the Polymer Cultural Factory, which I received from the compiler for a pleasurable barter deal. The first five chapters of Ursula K. LeGuin's The Left Hand of Darkness also seem great.

I like to read during Ramadan. This is my only passtime, self-education, my only entertainment, the consumption of which I do not feel guilty. I don’t feel guilty feasting letters with my eyes, rapaciously, as if someone were trying to take it away from me.

I am focused, fast. Hunger concentrates me. I am Ramadan.man. Superhero, with supersenses, a superreader.

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Ramadan.man’s superpowers do not include fixing things. One can say that one of Ramadan.man’s superpowers is messing things up. For instance, that’s what happened to my bike last year.

First of all I wanted to oil the wheel collar and then screw it shut. When I unscrewed them it was evident that the rings had been rusted and the wheel bearings fell apart. I should not have touched it to begin with. The same applied to the pedals; I wanted to change them but I accidentally screwed it in the wrong direction. The stem threads were completely ruined. This year, I started to clean the ventilation of my laptop and ruined the motherboard. At the same time, the desktop computer that I was using to view the tutorial to open the laptop stopped working. Yep, superpowers.

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Midsummer day. At home. No grilling what so ever. Not even meat free. I was ready for it. I built a lego house for Generous. He was extremely happy. Maybe in his eyes I have some superpowers?

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I enjoy watching films. Especially in the summer and especially vampire films. This Ramadan I finally watched a movie that has been on my list of films to watch for a long time, and this film became the winner of my top five vampire films.

The movies left out of my top five list were Shadow of a Vampire (2000), Interview with the Vampire (1994) and From Dusk Till Dawn (1996). The first one I just really liked and the second was my first. I went to Kosmos cinema to see it when I was seven years old. The third… the only guy who could pull of a 90’s tribal tattoo is George Clooney. For sure.

TOP 5:

5. What We Do in the Shadows (2014). New Zealand. Mockumentary. It is funny. Really funny.

4. Thirst (2009). South-Korea. From the same director of Old Boy. Need I say more?

3. Let the Right One In (2008). Swedes can do and show you all kinds of things in their films. For God’s sake don’t watch the 2010 film Let Me In!

2. A Girl Walks Home Alone (2014). A feminist Iranian vampire film. Thank you, Ernest, for recommending!

1. Only Lovers Left Alive (2013). An ocean of references. Music. Tangier. Drinking blood from drams.

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I sacrifice this world, the comforts of this world. And I sacrifice myself. I watch this world, I try to be only an observer. My presence is perceivable; I perceive my own presence. And at the same time I am vanished. And that doesn’t matter. The sun climbs across the building. These are it’s final rays. I look desperately at the sky and search for the moon. The sun and moon determine my situation, my condition, my position in this world, that I bring for a sacrifice. My sacrificed self-position. Sunset and dawn rays determine me as alive or an observer. The crescent starts from the right and grows towards the left. Half means a quarter and a full moon means half. The full moon scares me. Too many lunatics, who find themselves just then. During Ramadan I don’t feel myself loosing my mind, I am too tired and empty. There is just the reflections of a past madness, reflections of primal madness. I throw stones at those reflections, to get to the primal madness, to look it in the eye. I am afraid.

I cry a lot, more than I can consume water. My heart is tender and soft, this must never change, it must never petrify. I cry because people die in the hands of crazy people, because of how wonderful children can be, because of how much a brother can love his sister. I would like to cry more because of how much good there is in this world but unfortunately I can’t. My sacrifice is trivial, a trivial disciplinary exercise, a reminder and a self admiration in comparison to the millions, who must daily endure hunger and thirst. In the best case scenario, this is a preparation for times when winters are long and droughts hit the summer, and the only one’s who survive are the ones who do not care about their presence.

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Have a lovely Ramadan, only a full moon’s worth is left. Mustamäe, 07/15

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Ramadan.man_12.2_last_saved_17/07

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Hunger has disappeared. I can’t feel hunger anymore, I have no more strength to feel it. Hunger made me awake, made me want, need, desire. Hunger made me jump. 3 hours and 50 minutes. With every night I eat less, and with every day I do less. I have the feeling I am disappearing, vanishing. With every day there is less «I», my body is in permanent ratio with my ego, with the forward-leaning and active one. Imagine people who have been starving for years –– how much can they do for themselves? Their families, their communities?

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Why am I always trying—and always pointlessly—to define myself? Who I appear to be, how I label myself,  as what I feel myself, to what can I connect myself? Am I a vegan, a nationalist, a feminist, a chauvinist, a capitalist, an anarchist, an islamist? Ist-ist-ist. Who is «I» without anything? What is left of «I”, if I have no history, name, background system? Who am I? A living being? A human? How much have I tried to discover what a human is? Evolution, the history of humanity, the stories of creation, genes, processes, memes. Am I able to look at my self as a noumenon or am I just a holistic phenomenon? Am I a dirt, a «sounding clay» or an intermediate link in evolutionary chain?  Am I all at the same time or none of them? Creator/created, conflict, an independent communicator or a syncretist? Maybe I am not set in stone, maybe I am not a static character, but a constant adaptor? The history of «I» consists of development, movement, change, adaptation. «I» is a human. Do you feel the same?    

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I sleep everyday until the midday prayer. Sleeping saves my energy. Today I had to wake up early, to make it to the MA admission test. I feel like vomiting, I feel really bad. Not sure what I would vomit. Three quarters have past, I am enfeebling.

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You know this refugee thing. I have spent too much time on it. I wrote many pages on what I find to be wrong with it. It’s crap, both what I wrote and how it is dealt with. I am not willing to criticize, argue nor ramble anymore. I basically refuse to fall into the spiral of online commentaries, where some guy wants to say some absurdity and expects someone to answer. I don’t see a reason for this, I can’t see what good it does, it is not good for me, it is not good for my emotional and psychological wellbeing. All people have equal rights, the right to life and freedom. For all! There is no difference whether the color of your skin is «white» or «black», whether you are a woman or a man, your right to life and freedom does not depend on your passport or your personal ID, it depends on working heart. And you have the right to strive towards life and freedom.

Fuck, I started preaching again. You know what I mean… Think good, speak good, do good.  

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We went to watch Minions with the boys. It was the 10:00 PM screening. As true westerners we broke our fast in the middle of the movie with nachos with melted cheese and Coca-Cola. After the movie we came home. Whilst waiting for the elevator, Happy noticed CCTV cameras in the waiting area and said: «This is freakin’ creepy.» Right on, boy, this is creepy. While the West killed God, the All-Seeing eye, we birthed Big Brother who watches over our every step, every action, every time we scratch our asses. Freakin’ creepy.

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It’s 1:42 AM and freshly asphalted road underneath Tammsaare/Järvevana viaduct is sprawling in front of me. Tires chirr on fresh asphalt, and thou the rear wheel is wobbly and chain covered with dirt, my bicycle scampers surprisingly fast. Today was the last tarawih prayer; I am glad that I was present. It was good, good for my body, soul and mind; they needed it. An hour and half of praying, four raka‘āts of evening prayer and twenty four raka‘āts of tarawih prayer. An hour and half out of that four hours, during which I could have been consuming, eating and drinking. Penultimate sacrifice before the end of the lunar-month. Last time I saw moon crescent was seven days ago. Clouds were slicing it horizontally into pieces. Now I can’t see it anywhere. Moon is dead. Dead to be born again. And the circle starts again.

This Ramadan is the twelfth Ramadan of my life. Every one of them has been different, but that doesn’t matter. Tomorrow is left. I must remember the two days I traveled and two days I fasted in Mecca time. Two full nicks and two half ones. I hope the rest will be accepted.  

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Tonight, I read the children’s encyclopedia for Happy. In the beginning there was the Big Bang. It seemed to me that he did not fully understand all of this talk of compression of matter and the ever-expanding universe. Or I was not able to fully explain it to him. It was all too abstract, it was much easier to talk about planets and stars. I assume it is quite similar, if I had to talk about God to him.

Doubt, doubt is constant. Doubt follows me all the time. I doubt in everything – actions, principles, the actuality of my faith, the existence of God, my existence, the norms of society, reality. Doubt is good. Doubt is an earthquake that destroys badly constructed buildings to build new ones. Doubt makes the mind soft like crying does for to the heart. The mind must not harden, a petrified mind is evil, it is not capable of dialogue.

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Happy Holidays! Mustamäe, 07/15

[writerspink]

K-12 Words

K

dry wet shoe ten long stay yellow watch inch cup time words same six bones black child ear most page work white five arms snow main nine water head eggs rain test seven root law fall cow red doctor baby feet room rule one blue dark legs wind skin ball green two ever car body box orange gave door four europe picture wish purple ready try neck brown through sky grass air sign whether dance pink eight drive too sat gray three hit man love hand the of and a to in is you that it he was for on are as with his they I at be this have from or had by but not what all were we when your can said there use an each which she do how their if will up other about out many then them these so some her would make like him into has look more write go see number no way could people my than first been called who oil sit now find down day did get come made may part

1.1

anything syllables past describe winter even also eleven moon fruit sand apple women nose solve Math problem plus minus equals stone pants shirt starry thousand divided just train shall held short lay dictionary twelve suddenly mind race clothes learn picked probably raised finished end plaid years bill place hundred different drop came river milk beautiful square lake hole fingers flat sea type over new sound take only little work know live me back give most very after things our name good sentence man think say great where help through much before line right too means old any same tell boy follow want show around form three small

1.2

interest job because such think thirteen subject answer letter meet north length need times divide (by) times table edge soft months present energy point sound log south wide members exercise flowers set found things heart cause site brother teacher live read billion another distance written kept direction developed wall east happy million world must house turn west change well twenty felt put end does large big even here why ask went men land different home us move try kind hand picture again off dress play spell air away animal page mother study still learn should America

2.1

paragraph weather window third believe discovered simple gone paint new store form cells matter follow perhaps cannot good means around line center kind reason move forest sentence return instruments beside represent wild study back farmers sum difference product quotient remainder mother animal land region record summer general caterpillar scratch modern adjust passenger promise equal creak almost croak book dainty song high every near add food between own below country plant last school father keep tree never start city earth eyes light thought head under story saw left don’t few while along might close something seem next hard open example begin life always those both paper together got group often run

2.2

misty poor caution pest phrase life startle squirm alone centaur rise mountain above illustrator footprint temperature decorate country sweat sometimes hair smiled everything began thick compass themselves enough took although splendid crowded second act attach sly talk wonder let’s whirl someone Africa borrow beat belong blink per fasten pain begin drenched bed shell free earth tiny slippery count factors important until children side feet car mile night walk white sea grow river four carry state once book hear stop without late miss idea eat face watch far Indian real almost let girl mountains cut young soon list song being leave family it’s

3.1

drowsy bashful hatch glad copy possible wicked grin sibling shovel run verb sail polish ride young steep case Indian laughed soil appear bolts costume melody narrow behave howl example flee together lot filthy alarm spiral selfish idea conductor fight rolled middle glacier tree dizzy gather sneaky already construct every miss lively metal couldn’t gold plant mask chat nation hear either bundle section near rescue face divide sob celebrate family loosen jealous crash chimney daily own cozy ripe cut son natural serious carry care paper broken cue within body music color stand questions fish area mark horse birds problem complete room knew since ever piece told usually didn’t friends easy heard order red door sure become top ship across today during short better best however low hours black products happened whole measure remember early waves reached

3.2

being instead ache exactly hard speed buy age late artistic close affordable fraction eyes appetite complain sleep seem eat below remove rusty grow glum stormy trust enormous scale open add grab upset weed denied expensive story terrified lead jumped died basket side bear bend list tomb while batch grateful father gleaming dress light sprinkle amount exclaim result yank leave cheat whimper angle outside remain heap champion surprise dodge moment fancy squeeze pretend village shriek city thunder rapid iron striped don’t attitude bell hat tug isn’t applause children honest cross spring freezing listen wind rock space covered fast several hold himself toward five step morning passed vowel true hundred against pattern numeral table north expert slowly money map farm pulled draw voice seen cold cried plan notice south sing war ground fall king town I’ll unit figure certain field travel wood fire upon

4.1

pattern cave hope mile group travel blush killed seed bottom hide important let ticket timid pounds restart silent cranky keep real bright quite curved repeat trip without dart consonant mountains quiet apologize roar grip groan bolt food injury century exhausted cabin atmosphere floor it’s scold transportation delighted giant hill something build fog method rough left everyone obey deserve speak therefore soon french switch until pushed state knob hobby between surround collect fire I’ll arrive road happened certain top order astronomy inches club catch farm nibble color yourself received connect told gaze check wear English half ten fly gave box finally wait correct oh quickly person became shown minutes strong verb stars front feel fact street decided contain course surface produce building ocean class note nothing rest carefully scientists inside wheels stay green known island week less machine base ago stood

4.2

round award crowd slowly yet products, goods, services vowel himself strange whose draw team hold feel flood sent save stood yard notice warn enemy deep please flap coast music wrote safe blast behind island lizard figure famous garden correct whisper listen joined clear share net thus calf maybe cried piece fold seen england decided bank fell pair control clean telescope trouble glass float morning horse produce course hunting rest step statement contain shouted filled zigzag accident cents instrument fly single express visit desert seeds chew dome experiment break gravity against branch size low plane system ran boat game force brought understand warm common bring explain dry though language shape thousands yes equation government heat full hot check object am rule among noun power cannot able six dark ball material special heavy fine circle include built

5.1

mark wealthy row feeling across attention ran map students inside design art mouth ring skill hot during shelter full till log (book) blossom discard bring quickly scientists party town covered wise early cram grain harm goal pause inform heal clue fame freeze badge pimple dim missionary diet dumb rod march agree stick government bulb mall ban greed skiing poison stove image grew fact material dangerous flow gap ago stack explain didn’t strong voice true drawing surface gift corner cloud since king dawn pulled dozen friends greedy burning upon knew insect decimal nervous pay foot weak smooth aware steady serve lost nonetheless beach front atlas questions less cost slight motor banner wire area carefully separate equation local minutes fast table plan fine waves fair sing dive suppose boat thousands shape among toward gas factory birds wait understand sure ship report captain human game history reflect special brave bounce though else can’t matter square syllables perhaps bill felt suddenly test direction center farmers ready anything divided general energy subject Europe moon region return believe dance members picked simple cells paint mind love cause rain exercise eggs train blue wish drop developed window difference distance heart site sum summer wall forest probably

5.2

include cage language base red brain building feast better built demolish excess leap tower ocean plains cold claw information scholar climbed woman worry strand heavy herd common ground damp pack choose president least increase half english invent class measure dash tremble object become doubt became bare wheels continued shiver engine core couple business stars week peak numeral brought nothing touch reached uncle symbols however rumor evening inasmuch (as) force curious heat career system valley dust flock spray robber practice lonely remember luxury warm heard calm rock frighten leader difficulty best gum cheer key support universe stream bit usually fish parade balance money note cliff stand proof you’re pale machine complete cool shown street today shy easy several search unit war power caught settle itself fuel mention fresh planet plane straight period person able direct space wood seal field circle lady board besides hours passed known whole similar underline main winter wide written length reason kept interest arms brother race present beautiful store job edge past sign record finished discovered wild happy beside gone sky grass million west lay weather root instruments meet third months paragraph raised represent soft whether clothes flowers shall teacher held describe drive appreciate structure visible artificial

6.1

afraid absorb british seat fear stretched furniture sight oxygen coward rope clever yellow albeit confess passage france fan cattle spot explore rather active death effect mine create wash printed process origin rose swift woe planets doze gasp chief perform triumph value substances tone score predict property movement harsh tube settled defend reverse ancient blood sharp border fierce plunge consider terms vision intend total schedule attract average intelligent corn dead southern glide supply convince send continent brief mural symbol crew chance suffix habit insects entered nursery especially spread drift major fig diagram guess wit sugar predator science necessary moisture park ordeal nectar fortunate flutter gun forward globe misery molecules arctic won’t actually addition washington cling rare lie steel pastime soldiers chill accordingly capital prevent solution greek sensitive electric agreed thin provide indicate northern volunteer sell tied triangle action opposite shoulder imitate steer wander except match cross speak solve appear metal son either ice sleep village factors result jumped snow ride care floor hill pushed baby buy century outside everything tall already instead phrase soil bed copy free hope spring case laughed nation quite type themselves temperature bright lead everyone method section lake iron within dictionary bargain loyal resource struggle vary capture exclaim gloomy insist restless shallow shatter talent atmosphere brilliant endure glance precious unite certain clasp depart journey observe superb treasure wisdom

6.2

prepared journey trade delicate arrived track cotton hoe furnish exciting view grasp level branches privilege limit wrong enable ability various moreover spoil starve dollars digest advice sense accuse pretty wasn’t industry adopt loyal suggested blow treasure cook adjective doesn’t wings tools crops loud smell frail wisdom fit expect ahead lifted deed device weight gradual respect interesting arrange particular compound examine cable climate division individual talent fatal entire advantage opponent wouldn’t elements column custom enjoy grace theory suitable wife shoes determine allow marsh workers difficult repeated thrill position born distant revive magnificent shop sir army struggled deal plural rich rhythm rely poem company string locate church mystify elegant led actual responsible japanese huge fun meat observe swim office chart avoid factories block called experience win crumple brilliant located pole bought conditions sister details primary survey truck recall disease radio rate scatter decay signal approach launch hair age amount scale pounds although per broken moment tiny possible gold milk quiet natural lot stone act build middle speed count consonant someone sail rolled bear wonder smiled angle fraction Africa killed melody bottom trip hole poor let’s fight surprise French died beat exactly remain fingers clever coast explore imitate pierce rare symbol triumph ancient cling disturb expose perform remote timid bashful brief compete consider delightful honor reflex remark brink chill conquer fortunate fury intend pattern vibrant wit

7.1

capture remark western outcome risk current bold compare resident ambition arrest furthermore desire confuse accurate disclose considerable contribute calculate baggage literacy noble era benefit orchard shabby content precious manufacture dusk afford assist demonstrate instant concentrate sturdy severe blend vacant weary carefree host limb pointless prepare inspire shallow chamber vast ease attentive source frantic lack recent distress basic permit threat analyze distract meadow mistrust jagged prefer sole envy hail reduce arena tour annual apparent recognize captivity burrow proceed develop humble resist peculiar response communicate circular variety frequent reveal essential disaster plead mature appropriate attractive request congratulate address destructive fragile modest attempt tradition ancestor focus flexible conclude venture impact generosity routine tragic crafty furious blossom concern ascend awkward master queasy release portion plentiful alert heroic extraordinary frontier descend invisible coax entrance capable peer terror mock outstanding valiant typical competition hardship entertain eager limp survive tidy antonym duplicate abolish approach approve glory magnificent meek prompt revive watchful wreckage audible consume glide origin prevent punctuate representative scorn stout woe arch authentic clarify declare grant grave opponent valid yearn admirable automatic devotion distant dreary exhaust kindle predict separation stunt

7.2

evade debate dedicate budge available miniature petrify pasture banquet pedestrian solitary decline reassure nonchalant exhibit realistic exert abuse dictate minor monarch concept character strategy soar beverage tropical withdraw challenge kin navigate purchase reliable mischief solo combine vivid aroma spurt illuminate narrator retain excavate avalanche preserve suspend accomplish exasperate obsolete occasion myth reign sparse gorge intense revert antagonist talon aggressive alternate retire cautiously blizzard require endanger luxurious senseless portable sever compensate companion visual immense slither guardian compassion escalate detect protagonist oasis altitude assume seldom courteous absurd edible identical pardon approximate taunt achievement homonym hearty convert wilderness industrious sluggish thrifty deprive independent bland confident anxious astound numerous resemble route access jubilation saunter hazy impressive document moral crave gigantic bungle prefix summit overthrow perish visible translate comply intercept feeble exult compose negative suffocate frigid synonym appeal dominate deplete abundant economy desperate diligent commend boycott jovial onset burden fixture objective siege barrier conceive formal inquire penalize picturesque predator privilege slumber advantage ambition defiant fearsome imply merit negotiate purify revoke wretched absorb amateur channel elegant grace inspect lame tiresome tranquil boast eloquent glisten ideal infectious invest locate ripple sufficient uproar

8.1

apprehensive dialogue prejudice marvel eligible accommodate arrogant distinct knack deposit liberate cumulative consequence strive salvage chronological unique vow concise influence lure poverty priority legislation significant conserve verdict leisure erupt beacon stationary generate provoke efficient campaign paraphrase swarm adhere eerie mere mimic deteriorate literal preliminary solar soothe expanse ignite verge recount apparel terrain ample quest composure majority collide prominent duration pursue innovation omniscient resolute unruly optimist restrain agony convenient constant prosper elaborate genre retrieve exploit continuous dissolve dwell persecute abandon meager elude rural retaliate primitive remote blunder propel vital designate cultivate loathe consent drastic fuse maximum negotiate barren transform conspicuous possess allegiance beneficial former factor deluge vibrant intimidate idiom dense awe rigorous manipulate transport discretion hostile clarity arid parody boisterous capacity massive prosecute declare stifle remorse refuge predicament treacherous inevitable ingenious plummet adapt monotonous accumulate reinforce extract reluctant vacate hazardous inept diminish domestic linger context excel cancel distribute document fragile myth reject scuffle solitary temporary veteran assault convert dispute impressive justify misleading numerous productive shrewd strategy villain bluff cautious consist despise haven miniature monarch obstacle postpone straggle vivid aggressive associate deceive emigrate flexible glamour hazy luxurious mishap overwhelm span blemish blunt capable conclude detect fatigue festive hospitality nomad supreme

8.2

exclude civic compact painstaking supplement habitat leeway minute hoax contaminate likeness migration commentary extinct tangible originate urban unanimous subordinate collaborate obstacle esteem encounter futile cordial trait improvises superior exaggerate anticipate cope evolve eclipse dissent anguish subsequent sanctuary formulates makeshift controversy diversity terminate precise equivalent pamper prior potential obnoxious radiant predatory presume permanent pending simultaneously tamper supervise perceived vicious patronize trickle stodgy rant oration preview species poised perturb vista wince yearn persist shirk status tragedy trivial snare vindictive wrath recede peevish rupture unscathed random toxic void orthodox subtle resume sequel upright wary overwhelm perjury uncertainty prowess utmost throb pluck pique vengeance pelt urgent substantial robust sullen retort ponder whim saga sham reprimand vocation assimilate dub defect accord embark desist dialect chastise banter inaugurate ovation barter muse blasé stamina atrocity deter principal liberal epoch preposterous advocate audacious dispatch incense deplore institute deceptive component subside spontaneous bonanza ultimate wrangle clarify hindrance irascible plausible profound infinite accomplish apparent capacity civilian conceal duplicate keen provoke spurt undoing vast withdraw barrier calculate compose considerable deputy industrious jolt loot rejoice reliable senseless shrivel alternate demolish energetic enforce feat hearty mature observant primary resign strive verdict brisk cherish considerate displace downfall estimate humiliate identical improper poll soothe vicinity abolish appeal brittle condemn descend dictator expand famine portable prey thrifty visual

9.1

stance vie instill exceptional avail strident formidable rebuke enhance benign perspective tedious aloof encroach memoir mien desolate inventive prodigy staple stint fallacy grope vilify recur assail tirade antics recourse clad jurisdiction caption pseudonym reception humane ornate sage ungainly overt sedative amiss convey connoisseur rational enigma fortify servile fastidious contagious elite disgruntled eccentric pioneer abet luminous era sleek serene proficient rue articulate awry pungent wage deploy anarchy culminate inventory commemorate muster adept durable foreboding lucrative modify authority transition confiscate pivotal analogy avid flair ferret decree voracious imperative grapple deface augment shackle legendary trepidation discern glut cache endeavor attribute phenomenon balmy bizarre gullible loll rankle decipher sublime rubble renounce porous turbulent heritage hover pithy allot minimize agile renown fend revenue versa gaunt haven dire doctrine intricate conservative exotic facilitate bountiful cite panorama swelter foster indifferent millennium gingerly conscientious intervene mercenary citadel obviously rely supportive sympathy weakling atmosphere decay gradual impact noticeable recede stability variation approximately astronomical calculation criterion diameter evaluate orbit sphere agricultural decline disorder identify probable thrive expected widespread bulletin contribution diversity enlist intercept operation recruit survival abruptly ally collide confident conflict protective taunt adaptation dormant forage frigid hibernate insulate export glisten influence landscape native plantation restore urge blare connection errand exchange

9.2

feasible teem pang vice tycoon succumb capacious onslaught excerpt eventful forfeit crusade tract haggard susceptible exemplify ardent crucial excruciating embargo disdain apprehend surpass sporadic flustered languish conventional disposition theme plunder ignore project complaint title dramatic delivery litter experimental clinic arrogance preparation remind atomic occasional conscious deny maturity closure stressed translator animate observation physical further gently registration suppress combination amazing constructive allied poetry passion ecstasy mystery cheerful contribution spirit failed gummy commerce prove disagreement raid consume embarrass preference migrant devour encouragement quote mythology destined destination illuminating struggle accent ungrateful giggle approval confidence expose scientist operation superstitious emergency manners absolutely swallow readily mutual bound crisp orient stress sort stare comfort verbal heel challenging advertisement envious sex scar astonish basis accuracy enviable alliance specific chef embarrassed counter tolerable sympathetic gradually vanish informative amaze royal furry insist jealousy simplify quiver collaborate dedicated flexible function mimic obstacle technique archaeologist fragment historian intact preserve reconstruct remnant commence deed exaggeration heroic impress pose saunter wring astound concealed inquisitive interpret perplexed precise reconsider suspicious anticipation defy entitled neutral outspoken reserved sought equal absorb affect circulate conserve cycle necessity seep barren expression meaningful plume focused genius perspective prospect stunned superb transition assume guarantee nominate

10.1

install reticent corroborate regretfully strength murder concise cunning intention holy satire query confused progression disillusion background mundane abrupt multiple enormously introduce emulate harmful pragmatic pity rebut liberate enthusiastic elucidate camaraderie disparage nature creep profitability impression racist sobriety occupy autonomy currently amiable reiterate reproduce cripple modest offer atom provincial augment ungratefully expansion yield rashly allude immigration silence epitome exacerbate somber avid dispute vindicate collaborate manufacturer embellish superficial propaganda incompetent objective diminish statistics endure ambivalent perpetuate illuminate phenomenon exasperate originality restrict anxiety anthropology circumstances aesthetic manufacturing conventional dubious vulnerable reality precedent entity success term critical repair underscore stepmother republican hesitantly classic wary contents prediction immediate invoke notorious implicit excluding input skeptical foster element punish frank humanity profound dessert orthodox substance disappear encourage neighborhood elder superfluous naive ascertain complacent resilient deafening military tend prudent glare acceptance skillfully induce monster beam gullible conciliate vessel petty cantankerous disclose archaeology anecdote disdain electronics substantiate subjective tourism advisable joyful incredible provocative psychological ruins discipline condone indifferent misfortune judgmental industrialize tasty assume astute mission mar protective definitely escape oppress shocked virtual zealous endorse qualification hostile eccentric abstract disparate geographical scrutinize generalization tolerate activity claim dogmatic influential obsolete extol implausible subsequent resource chronic benevolent improve confidential ambiguous seriously dearth perplex hatred throughout dine contemporary evoke essentially economic flagrant obscure alleviate eloquent dreaadful clumsy sympathy victim condemn vigor condescend spontaneous quell reprehensible substantially sleeve equivocal ironic decry errand articulate progressive eradicate refreshments elicit aspiration recently exemplary bribery theoretical disingenuous partisan revere particle nostalgia self-aggrandizement debunk tyranny rhetoric hierarchy warning whimsical venerate commend assert miserable awful vibe constrain undermine explicit differentiate compliment scrupulous contempt erroneous ideal refute imply cynical rash presume insight revival vary delay renounce indignant offensive temperate circumstantial export peep logo advertise suppress distort chunk convoluted denounce overwhelming fertility rigorous acquire arrogant university antagonize profitable indulgent strategic breathing idiosyncrasy profession frugal discern accommodation adversary incredulous disturbance digress social belie roam smug continual pertinent voluntarily elite subtle blame sincerity lick horror censure involvement candid infer futile impetuous exploit bewilder sustain diligent sincere protect sealed musical empathy callous parenthetical insure acorn sarcasm seize sacrificially allege emphatic irrelevant progress diplomatic stunned improvise deride reconcile meticulous deject scientifically incontrovertible pressure justify gloomy depict supplant endurance analogous diary bolster slip contemplate pesticide glow religious advocate negligent creator lament fundamental embrace throne inherent inferior valuable thrive trivial pretense reserved capricious refresh refusal flight boost explanation coherent prevalent tenacious official royalty assassin rub poach delete

10.2

warrant circumscribed somewhat explosive optimistic mandate previously detract opinion intuitive feasible intimate persistent humble simplicity tempt deliberate painful unethical fundamentals discrepancy remorse pessimistic possibility conclusion acknowledge impregnate soberly creation paralyze suitability oblige tranquil medal arbitrate pacify illusory susceptible vibrate vengeance infection democratic stressful grave speculative sample identification stifle obligation revenge organization namely mediocre practical scream weaken consensus affectionate deficient treacherous console isolation ingenious memory melodrama despair awestruck composition regret recommendation celebrity decision devoid opaque ornamentation longevity participate dread restore interrogate aid accordingly mislead embarrassment optimism domestic apt funds virtue geography fundamentally thoroughly press despite horrible chilling rental esteemed disappointment innovative contemplation assign popularize haunt deafen serene percent estrangement suffer extravagant throng estimate comment priesthood mass dreadfully promote periphery animated saying relate clarity triple derivative succeed distortion register suicide improvement discreet inquisition probable curative incident praise convenience baffle covet dreadful genuinely weary undisturbed disgruntled humility renown nonchalant monopoly comedy vague decisive inconsequential announcement fabricated nevertheless vigilant scarce neglectful hushed attainment tedious explode snatch pslm agency sentimental tension adhere meanwhile sacred avert conformity likewise challenger accessible responsibility peril contact event roast fallible catastrophic competitor violate resolute deceive exaggeration discredit intolerable approve paste dimly novelist demeanor norm politician satisfaction obvious vehicle reservation defer involve restoration crush audible assistant backpack attain inanimate commemorate confrontation emigration parasite disperse quantitative laughter policy vulgar occasionally repay effective eulogy starvation empty therapeutic overall immortal encompass inappropriate opportune engagement illustrate turmoil observatory classification expression reminiscence comedian invention depress remedy protagonist gesture texture diplomatic election prolong conducive emotional invigorate curiosity expressive %

K-12 Words was originally published on PinkWrite

[rochellebuckleyhandmade]

This is another post where I just don’t know where to start.

I feel it is important to give you a little background so you can appreciate the enormity of what I’m about to share.

For those of you who don’t already know, I have acromegaly.  A rare pituitary tumour that causes all sorts of grief and problems (I’ll expand more on that in a later post).  I think it was about 2007 when my diagnoses was finally confirmed.  I say “I think”  because I have a dreadful memory. I like to blame the tumour for that one.

It was long before my diagnosis that I knew something was wrong. I don’t know how long the tumour had been living quite comfortably on my pituitary, some specialists believe it may have nested either after the birth of my first born or shortly after the birth of my second.  There’s no way to know for sure.  My first child was born in 1995 and my second was born in 1998 so it may have been around for some time.

I remember struggling terribly with depression and anxiety which really began or esculated after the birth of my first. It was really bad,  although there were extenuating circumstances,  every medical professional I sought help from told me to suck it up and be grateful for the beautiful little girl I held in my arms. Not even a mention of post natal depression. I can’t help but wonder now if that tumour may have been responsible to a small degree.

As the years ticked by,  the depression esculated exponentially and there didn’t seem to be much I could do to stop it or even ease it.

By the time I was working I had piled on a stupid amount of weight but I didn’t understand why.  My joints began to hurt, I ached all over and I was always tired. The job I had at the time was managing a not-for-profit that mainly provided free or low cost groceries to those who needed a hand up.  The store was located in an industrial building with concrete floors, tin roof, no heating,  no cooling and not much of anything else either.  Although I only worked two and a half days a week I was always exhausted, increasingly tired and so,  so sore.

Me almost at my heaviest of 253kgs

I tried for years to tell my doctor there was something wrong with me but again,  I was told I was just too fat and needed to lose weight. Problem was, I couldn’t lose weight.  I tried everything, every diet and exercise known to man at that time.  Exercising became just too hard.  The pain of simply walking was unbearable.  I begged my doctor to help but again and again I was told I was just too fat.

I tried to continue living my life but I couldn’t.  I had to quit my job because I could no longer walk,  stand or get any relief from the pain.

I finally decided to see another doctor and I remember at one stage telling him that I’m not aching because I’m fat and weight bearing. If that were the case, why did my hands,  wrists, jaw,  neck ache and burn and hurt so much especially since they’re not weight bearing.

To cut a long story short, my doctor could see that I was very unwell, despite every test returning negative results.  It was so disheartening and depressing. Why was I like this? What on earth is wrong with me?  I began to think it was all in my head.  Was this something I’ve subconsciously created to overcome past hurts and failures?  Surely past stress couldn’t manifest into something this bad.

Finally,  in 2007 I received a diagnosis. Acromegaly.  I sat in my endocrinologist office and wept tears of relief.  To know that it was not in my head and there really is an illness was one of the biggest reliefs of my life.

I travelled from Lake Macquarie near Newcastle to Adelaide in September 2010 just one day before my 36th birthday to have the tumour removed.  It was such an adventure.  I loved seeing more of this beautiful land in which we live and although I was incredibly ill,  I remained wide eyed and completely enthralled on our journey.

Here I am in Rundle Mall, Adelaide just one day before surgery to remove pituitary tumour.  I had a craving for fresh oranges at the time.

By the time I was ready for this surgery I was quite unwell. My weight had ballooned to over 200kgs (223kgs to be exact,  that’s 492lb or 35 stone). I had lost the feeling down my left side,  I could barely speak,  partly due to swelling of soft tissue and I could not walk unaided. My vision was deteriorating rapidly and I was struggling to see.  My hands stopped working and I could barely even feed myself. The tumour had wrapped around my carotid artery and invaded my cavernous sinus. The surgeon was convinced he would NOT be able to remove it entirely. I could no longer drive and I was forgetting everything.  I even forgot how to cook and I had almost no memory of my past. I used to spend evenings with my sister as she regaled me with tales of my children growing up because I just couldn’t remember.  My mind was empty.

By this stage I had been receiving monthly injections of Sandostatin LAR or Somatuline Autogel for the past three years (from the time of diagnosis until surgery). Gee did this stuff made me sick. My stomach hurt all the time,  I would spend a considerable amount of my day on the bathroom.  My hair fell out, my skin hurt,  and I had a collection of cricket ball sized lumps on my rump at injection site that would become very bruised,  itchy and lasted about three months each.

I felt like crap constantly.

The tumour was removed successfully and entirely by Mr Santorenos.  Despite being told that I would not make it through surgery,  mainly due to my morbid obesity,  I’m still here to tell my tale.  We were told,  since I was so over weight and so ill,  I could expect to be in ICU for up to six weeks and another twelve on the ward and in rehabilitation – that is of I even survived surgery and didn’t have a heart attack or stroke.

Here I am back on the ward after leaving ICU. You can clearly see the fashionable nasal tampon, vomit bag and towel to try to relieve my thumping migraine.

I was out of ICU within 12hrs and discharged from hospital five days later.

Then my challenges began. Again. My recovery was incredibly slow,  arduous and painful. Regrettably I thought that everything would just go back to how it was pre-tumour. Oh how wrong I was. Why didn’t someone tell me it would be so bloody hard?  I spent the next twelve months flat on my back in bed.  I put this down to over doing it after being discharged from hospital.  We traveled home via the Great Ocean Rd from Adelaide to Newcastle.  It was stunning, breath taking and totally divine, but I had diabetes insipidus as a result of surgery. Cerebral fluid was leaking from my nose and every time we climbed a small hill in our car my nose would bleed and leak fluid, not to mention my smell and taste had gone after my olfactory glands had been damaged during surgery. This meant I would never smell or taste again. Something that I would have appreciated being told about pre-surgery, even if just to psychologically prepare.

The beautiful Loch Ard Gorge on the Great Ocean Road. I managed to kill my good DSLR on this trip. Just being sick and clumbsy.

Just at the end of my twelve months of being too ill to get out of bed, where my children had to feed me, toilet me, do all of the housework and everything in between, my husband left. At the time, I never saw it coming. I went into shock, my blood pressure went through the roof and as a result I lost my eyesight. Completely. No one knew if it would ever return. It did three months later. Not only did it return but some four years later, my eyesight (an astigmatism and shortsightedness) has improved so dramatically I need to get a new prescription every twelve months. My optometrist believes I will not need my glasses at all soon.

There has been so much that has happened between then and now. Challenges, crap, really tough times, including an horrific single car MVA just over twelve months ago in which I broke my neck in two places, my collarbone, five ribs and a bone in my ankle. I’ve struggled terribly with depression and anxiety and have found it very difficult to hold down a job with the chronic pain I experience.

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Me in hospital trying to walk again after my accident

I recently left the job of my dreams. I was so incredibly crushed. I loved the job, my work, the people, clients, my boss and my colleagues. Unfortunately the workload became just too much and my body and brain could no longer cope.  It just did not end well and I went into shock and commenced another cycle of grief. I am incredibly thankful that this cycle did not last long, thanks to my family and wonderfully amazing and supportive friends.

I can’t deny that my life has been pretty darn challenging but I am here to give you all hope and hopefully joy in your heart.

You see, whilst I was laying in that hospital bed in Adelaide some five and a half years ago, I started a rather rudimentary bucket list. In all honesty I never, ever believed I would be able to check any items off my bucket list, given my health challenges and my lack of financial stability (due to being unable to work for so long and fork out on medical expenses).

A few weeks back, I experienced a few events and read some stuff that has really given me a kick in the pants. This was a culmination of events, including my beautiful boy being beaten by an unknown drugged young man, a friend posting an interesting letter written by an 18 year old to his father and a blog article that, along with a few other things have combined to change my life for the better.

As a result of these events and with enormous thanks to my amazing, supportive, encouraging friends and family, I am beginning to see my bucket list come to fruition. Please remember that I have been told time and time again that I would never walk again, by now I should have been confined to a wheelchair at best. I should not be able to talk and I would be incredibly lucky to have survived beyond my 38th birthday. This year I will celebrate my 42nd birthday and between you and me, I plan to celebrate many more.

Well, I am here to prove those doctors and specialists wrong and offer hope to my fellow Acromegaly sufferers, those who battle mental health, those who can’t find the strength to go on. You can do it. You really can. If I can negotiate my way through this thing we call life, so too can you. Please, I implore you, DO NOT GIVE UP, EVER!

So what is it that I can share here with you today that I have checked off my bucket list?

Wait for it….

My dear friend took me skydiving!

Yes, you heard right. Skydiving.

Now, to most of you this may not be such a big deal, but for someone with a chronic illness, someone who has battled anxiety, panic attacks, depression and bucket-loads of self doubt, Someone who is completely terrified of heights and even more so of flying, this is MASSIVE!

Check out that goofy grin that hardly ever leaves my face. My dive instructor was absolutely amazing and I cannot recommend the team at Skydive The Beach and Beyond, Newcastle highly enough. I cannot thank my dear friend Doug enough either. Without his constant support and belief in me, not to mention his spontaneous suggestion I attend with him the evening before over dinner with Bec, I would never have accomplished this dream. Heartfelt thanks to you Doug.

Yes it was raining, yes it was freezing but it was so flipping awesome I just can’t wait to do it again.

If I had listened to those most of those doctors, specialists and other naysayers, I would not have experienced one of the most amazing thrills of my life. I would not have checked another item off my bucket list, I would not have found the courage and strength to over come. I would not be here today offering encouragement and moral support to you.

Please do not ever give up on your dreams. I can completely understand that life can be one great big fat challenge, obstacle and barrier, but please try to not let it beat you.

This event took place just four weeks ago and I have so many other adventures to share with you since.

Stay tuned and find joy.

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Learning to Live Again – New Adventure #1 This is another post where I just don't know where to start. I feel it is important to give you a little background so you can appreciate the enormity of what I'm about to share.