#blood donation should ALSO be made more ceremonial

[gretchensinister]

I think vaccinations should be made WAY more ceremonial and include elements to make everyone receiving them feel cool and brave and connected to their community

For every age of vaccine getting by the way!

[shinydelirium]

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 30: Day and Night (Kiro) Part 4 Translation [CN]

Previous translations of Season 2 Chapter 30: Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3

Sorry for the wait. There’s only more one part of the translation to go which I hope will be posted in the next few days. Thank you for everyone’s patience 😊   

[Ideal vs. Reality]

No more questions were asked.

Even the lights have stopped flashing. Time seemed to freeze at this moment and everyone slowly lowered their cameras.

Kiro stood in the center of the mass of people without being humble or arrogant. It was like he had some kind of power that was drawing everyone’s attention to him.

Just like the sun-oriented nature of living things, they will naturally move towards the place where the light is.

I stood behind the crowd and watched him walk into the main venue.

His words were not so much an answer to a question but a thinly veiled threat.

Did he find out about something after we parted ways?

I watched him closely during the opening ceremony. Towards the end of the event, I saw him look down at his phone.

His eyes suddenly changed and he turned and headed towards the backstage area.

I kept my eyes on the ongoing performance on stage as I felt an unexplainable unease building up inside me. After much hesitation, I decided to chase after him.

Kiro greeted the staff as he passed by, walking to another unoccupied area of the performing arts center.

MC: ….Where’s he going?

Trying my best not to be seen, I followed quietly behind him, and saw him go into a room.

Kiro: Alright, talk.

An indistinct voice with a somewhat stern tone came out from behind the door.

For a long time, Kiro didn’t say anything. I came closer to the door to get a better listen but there was nothing.

Thinking that he had hung up, I heard him speak.

Kiro: Enough.

Kiro: I don’t care about your precise scientific assumptions. You and I both know exactly what it means by deterioration.

Kiro: I promised you something. I’ll send it to you right away.

The call ended and I was met with silence.

I placed my hand on the door and stared fixedly at it.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door—

Under the moonlight, Kiro stood there quietly, his face hidden in the shadows.

The moment he saw me, he didn’t seem to register my presence. His deep blue eyes were dark and bleak with many emotions that I couldn’t understand swirling in them.

MC: Kiro, are you okay?

He looked at me without saying a word, his lips pressed into a hard line.

He seemed to be hesitating as if what he’s about to say next will change something the moment he uttered them.

He slowly closed his eyes and after a long time, they opened.

Kiro: MC, you should know about Evolvers becoming ill, right?

Looking into his dark eyes, I was slightly taken aback, then nodded.

MC: Although I’m not quite sure…

MC: But I think there may be some sort of deterioration in the body due to overusing Evol.

Kiro: You’re not wrong.

Kiro: And now, someone wants to exploit that.

I was stunned and an inexplicable answer came over me.

MC: Could it be…the blood disease that suddenly appeared has something to do with the deterioration of Evol?

Kiro: At present, all patients with blood disease are Evolvers with different symptoms before the diagnosis.

Kiro: Because there is no cure, they can only rely on blood transfusions to maintain life—

Kiro: The progression of the disease is exactly the same for everyone.

Remembering the girl’s tears of despair, I was unable to say a word.

MC: But now that we know, we should tell a professional doctor and research team.

MC: And have them figure it out.

MC: Since it’s man-made, if we can find someone, they can stop…

I couldn’t help but go up to Kiro and hold his hand but found that it was a little cold.

Kiro: Yeah, I suppose you’re right.

Hearing his indifferent reply, I seemed to have gained approval and continued my train of thought.

MC: Also, since blood transfusions are life-safe and until a cure is found…

MC: We should increase blood donations and give priority to critically ill patients.

Kiro smiled lightly but it was a sad smile.

Kiro: MC, the last time we met, I forgot to tell you.

Kiro: I saw your last show.

What he said surprised me a little and I didn’t quite understand why he’s saying this now of all times.

Kiro: It was good. It made me feel what the world is like through your eyes …it’s wonderful.

Kiro: I can see the care people had for one another.

Kiro: You have shown what this world should be, the most ideal—

Kiro: However, that may not be the reality.

Every word he spoke was light but heavy in my ears.

Kiro: Fighting persistently, patiently waiting for an idealized future.

Kiro: But the world can’t just rely on people’s patience with each other.

MC: What…what do you mean?

MC: The point is to understand each other!

Kiro: How do you convince an ordinary person who has been attacked by an Evolver that they’re harmless?

At this very moment, Kiro seemed different from before, a bit anxious.

MC: I…

I was rendered speechless by his words. I let go of the hand I was holding but he grabbed my hand back, pulling me closer to him.

MC: I just feel that whether it’s ordinary people or Evolvers…

MC: They’re all the same and they all live normal lives.

MC: As long as more people realize this…

Kiro: A drop of ink can dye a whole glass of water black.

MC: You can’t be sure that the whole glass will be affected just from this drop of ink.

MC: The fault is in the individual, not the power!

MC: I don’t think the answer I found is wrong.

I stared at Kiro firmly, trying not to be pulled into the vortex of the deep sea.

This is the answer I found under his guidance and I will never compromise even if I’m backed into a corner.

Kiro’s eyes flashed inexplicably, as if in joy, but also in anticipation.

Kiro: That’s not enough.

Kiro: Whether it’s your determination or your perspective.

Kiro: It’s not enough to get more people to join you and walk with you on that difficult path.

So before you find that path…Kiro closed his eyes, trying to keep his voice calm.

Kiro: Power makes a difference.

Kiro: People with power always have more initiative than others.

Kiro: Whether it is actively choosing to protect or harm.

Kiro: And Evol represents that power.

He saw the girl tremble imperceptibly but he forced himself not to look away from her eyes.

He should give her the sweetest candy.

Instead of telling her that there are ugly monsters everywhere in the world.

MC: So let’s face up to this fact and look for a way that can…

Kiro: The person who holds this power will not wait for you.

Kiro: They will not stop.

He is now the monster.

Let her know what she must overcome in order to reach the endpoint in her heart.

Kiro: I command you—push me away and go to the mirror.

[Nightwalker]

My strength instantly left me and my muscles contracted as I ruthlessly pushed Kiro away from me.

It felt like my body was trapped in a narrow container. I struggled to fight it but in the end I could only walk stiffly to the mirror little by little.

In the tense feeling of suffocation, I saw Kiro walking up behind me in the mirror, his familiar body temperature gradually coming closer.

He wrapped an arm around my waist as a dangerous and gentle aura suddenly overwhelmed my breath. His other hand gently held my chin.

I couldn’t help staring into his eyes. There seemed to be a lot of things hidden within them.

Kiro: No matter how determined you are, you will be affected by power.

Kiro: I can command you to do anything.

Kiro: Make you forget your beliefs, even make you forget who you are. ***Hell, after all that has happened, why not? I only ask that my thirst for Kiro stays. Everything else is irrelevant.*** 

His golden eyes are deeply imprinted in my retinas. I have seen these eyes many times.

Kiro: I can also make you hurt me.

MC: I could never…

My voice was cut off as I let Kiro take full control, only my trembling heartbeat still belonged to me.

Kiro: Do you want to test me?

I watched helplessly as my vision slowly blurred and I could no longer see Kiro’s face in the mirror.

Kiro: Stop.

A voice jolted me back and I felt myself deflate like a balloon. Next, I was held in a tender embrace. ***Holy shit...MC was this close to becoming a mindless puppet!!!***

Kiro: MC.

Moonlight surrounded the two of us but shadows covered his face.

Kiro: Now do you understand? That is power.

Kiro: This kind of miracle beyond reality can indeed save many people but it is also “inequality”.

Kiro: As long as there’s inequality in the world, someone will always be hurt.

His arms around my waist slowly tighten.

Kiro: But your answer is very important.

Kiro: I really wish…you made it a reality sooner.

Kiro: But hopefully, you can stay as far away from these things as possible.

A soft sound rang in my ears and he seemed to finally laugh but it sounded guilty and sad.

Kiro [pained voice]: ….I’m sorry.

It sounded like he was crying. My lips moved slightly, wanting to say something to him, to comfort him.

However, when I turned to look at him, gold light suffused his eyes again.

Kiro: I command you—get a good night’s sleep.

I slowly became aware of the sound of rain beating on the window. As I opened my eyes, a familiar ceiling came into view.

I sat up abruptly realizing that I was lying in my bedroom.

An uneasy feeling of emptiness filled my whole heart when I remembered Kiro’s guilty eyes.

He used his power to put me to sleep. Where is he now?

Flustered, I stood up from the bed, but when my feet hit the floor, my legs buckled and I almost fell to the ground.

It was only then that I realized that my body was a little weak.

MC: How did this happen?

I turned on my phone and saw that it was already the next morning.

Many unread messages have piled up and a particular news report jumped out at me.

“Breaking news! There has been a shooting at the central hospital late last night.”

I stared blankly at the screen as I felt my racing heart skip a beat.

-The night before yesterday, fourth basement of Mondlicht-

Kiro held the heavy bullet and loaded the silver pistol with a blank expression.

Dre: Are you really going through with this?

Dre didn’t wait for an answer, just watched Kiro pass byt him, showing a lonely back.

Kiro left Mondlicht, his pace a little hurried but heavy.

The car quickly stopped in the hospital’s underground parking lot. When he got out of the car, he tapped on the keyboard, his silver hair looking even more chilling under the incandescent light.

The corridors of the hospital were silent and all the pains were slumbering in sweet dreams.

The silver pistol in his hand was cold against his skin as he quietly walked forward until his figure completely disappeared into the darkness.

Finally, he came to a stop in front of a door and heard a faint voice of a young girl coming from the room.

Girl: It’s going to be alright, grandpa~ My favorite person is here to help us. You’ll get better real soon.

In her soft voice, the girl’s adoration and hope could not be hidden as if he was the most beautiful being in the world.

The motionless figure stood at the door for a long time, so long that it almost merged with the night.

After an unknown time, he raised his head without any expression on his face.

He pushed open the door. A cold light flashed and the barrel of the pistol was aimed at the old man in the hospital bed.

Everything happened too quickly. The girl’s desperate, terrified cries and gunshots twisted into a ball, tearing up the quiet night.

In the shrill chaos, there was only a dead stillness in those blue eyes.

Beep-the ECG detector made a deafening sound.

Helios turned around, like a candle that had abandoned its wick.

Only in his heart does he remember what it looked like when it was burning bright. ***No, I refuse to believe it.***

News: Today, a total of 13 patients were attacked in a sudden shooting at the Central Hospital.

News: The injured patients were successfully rescued after their heart stopped momentarily. No one was hurt.

News: As of right now, the police have been involved in the investigation and this station will continue to update on the situation.

I clutched my phone tightly and kept swiping through the news all over the internet, my heart thumping wildly in my chest.

There was a shooting at the Central Hospital…?

When we went to visit the little girl’s grandfather yesterday, there was nothing out of the ordinary so how could such a terrible thing happen overnight?

The information in the news was too vague, so I quickly scrolled to the comment area which was full of heated discussions.

I am 007: “Is this the Evolver Assassination 2.0?

I’m Really Hungry: “It’s hard not to think about revenge for the previous radiation incidents. Evolvers are to blame!!

[T/N: Google Translate wasn’t translating the username so I left it blank]: I heard that a lot of attacks were being covered up by the Special Forces during this time! I knew something was up!”

There are constantly new comments joining the discussion but none of them are of practical value.

I immediately messaged a few informants to ask if there were any more specific details.

Soon, I received several eyewitness accounts and testimonies on the victims involved. After browsing through them, I found that all the rhetoric were very unified.

“The attacker was a young man with silver hair and blue eyes and highly skilled.”

There was a pounding in my ears as a terrible guess came to my mind.

I didn’t dare think too much, so I opened the victims’ information which were records on the personal information and medical history of the victims in detail.

As I went through all the data, my heart sank.

--Each victim is an Evolver with hematopoietic dysfunction.

Among them was the little girl’s grandfather.

MC: What’s….

I stood up stiffly and saw a real-time news article suddenly pop up on the screen—

News article: Task Force releases case report, dozens of Evolvers arrested.

Shocked, I immediately clicked on it and a notification in white letters on a blue background came into view.

“The Special Task Force has arrested cases involving but not limited to the production and circulation of ‘small syringes’, malicious slander in the hunter game…”

“More than 90 suspects in the football charity bombing, radiation incident, etc.”

“The case is still under further investigation and the special agency will resolutely safeguard the dignity of the law as well as the legitimate rights and interests of the people.”

Below the announcement are the already heated comments. I frowned and scanned them line by line.

Really Want to Sleep: “Our neighbor was arrested. She seemed like such an enthusiastic young girl. Are you sure you have the right person?

Overtime Lime Water: “Even if they have the culprit, how are they going to prove they did it? That’s something for the Special Agency to handle.”

Escape to Pluto: “The Special Forces should use Evol to investigate the case but using Evol to gather clues for the case in order to find out if a crime was committed…it’s so scary to think about it!”

I scanned the different comments and then turned off my phone screen.

It all seems like an absolute paradox.

This case report is an indispensable part of rebuilding Loveland City. People need answers.

But at the same time, there are also many people who will question the outcome and fear the meaning behind it.

Rebuilding Loveland City…what is it exactly that should be rebuilt?

I quickly walked out of the house and drove to the Central Hospital.

That disturbing thought kept hanging over me but at this moment, I was a little afraid to confirm the answer.

I looked at my phone with a wry smile, took a deep breath, and dialed.

To my surprise, the phone was picked up after two short rings.

The person on the other side seemed to be waiting with bated breath just like me.

Kiro: MC.

After a long time, he softly said my name, as if everything was hidden in the call.

MC: …Was it you?

I didn’t say anything more as I kept on pondering, hoping he didn’t understand my question.

There was silence on the other end. When I thought he wasn’t going to answer me, I heard him say in a low voice.

Kiro: It’s been raining all day. I can’t see the sun.

MC: ….Once the dark clouds part, the sun will come out.

His words were a bit slurred but I seemed to sense something.

Kiro: You said that it’s okay to be a dark cloud sometimes, right? ***I’ll still love you no matter what.***

A busy tone gradually came from the car’s speakerphone but I never hung up. It was like a pause button had been pressed.

The car came to a slow stop. Turning my head, I saw the unmistakable caution tape surrounding the gate of the Central Hospital.

-End of Part 4-

[mumbailivenews]

Navi Mumbai: Civic Body Issues Guidelines For Ganeshotsav & Navrati - Read Here

Ahead of the festivals approaching from next month, the Navi Mumbai Municipal Corporation (NMMC) has issued guidelines for Ganeshotsav and Navratrotsav celebrations in the city. In addition, the civic body has imposed guidelines for idols installed in the stalls for worship during these fesitivals.

Here are the guidelines by civic body:

Apart from celebrating the festival in a simple manner, this year, in order to facilitate mandaps in getting the necessary permission, the civic body has developed an online portal.

The corporation has urged all the mandaps and citizens organising Ganesh festival or Navratri in the city to submit applications for setting up mandaps on the website of NMMC at www.rtsnmmconline.com. The online service was started on July 14, 2022.

Meanwhile, the civic body has cleared that construction of any kind of pavilion but should not be undertaken without permission from all concerned agencies.

What are the Idol regulations for festivities?

the height of the Ganesha idol should not be more than four feet for public celebration and two feet for domestic Ganeshotsav.

The civic body has urged the citizens not to worship idols made of metal/marble in the house and try to carry out immersion ceremonies at home. If immersion is not possible at home, immersion should be done at a nearby artificial immersion site.

NMMC also warned Mandals from forcibly taking donations. It has advised Mandals to organise health-related activities/camps (e.g. blood donation) instead of cultural programs. Awareness should be spread about diseases and their preventive measures as well as hygiene.

Instructions have also been issued to avoid large-scale gatherings during Aarti, Bhajan, Kirtan or other religious programs and rules and provisions regarding noise pollution need to be followed.

The Mandals have been urged to make the darshan facility of Shri Ganesh available online, through cable networks, websites and Facebook.

Ganeshotsav will be celebrated from August 31 to September 9, 2022 while Navratrotsav will be celebrated from September 26 to October 5, 2022.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

The aftermath of Merlin snapping, and yelling at Arthur in the middle of the forest;

Arthur pushes for change, the gang takes bets on when Merthur will happen, and someone, somewhere, is grumpy.

Part 2 of Merlin’s Angry Outburst. 

Part 1   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5

Once Arthur has a first draft of the repeal, the first people he brings in on it (with Merlin’s approval, of course) are the 5 knights, Gwen, Gaius, and Morgana.

(Morgana, who later that evening comes back to Arthur's chamber in tears (Merlin is also there) to reveal her magic, and thank him for not being Uther.) 

All of them enthusiastically agree, after only a little conversation.

Elyan and Leon are the most... dubious, but only because of the practical factor, they don't disagree with the actual repeal.

After months of the gang working in secret, they reveal their best draft to the council. At least half the council are new members that Arthur appointed, the rest are left over from Uther’s time.

They argue back and forth for a while, half vs half. A few of the older members, who were around before the purge, slowly start changing their minds.

In the end, it takes them maybe a month to get a majority, and Arthur overrules the remaining opposition. He is King after all, technically, he doesn’t even have to have a council.

Days after the agreement is reached, Arthur goes out personally to collect a few specific Druids, who had been waiting just outside the border for the go ahead.

It takes maybe another month to go through all the laws thoroughly, changing and editing and altering what needs to be altered. With the help of Arthur's close advisors on the political aspects, and the help of the Druids, Merlin, and Gaius, on the magical aspects (what should be allowed freely, what should be monitored, and what should remain fully banned).

The city celebrates when the announcement is made, they all loved the new King anyway, and had been overjoyed with the drop in executions, and deliberate ignoring of small instances of magic.

After a feast to celebrate the new found freedom among the people, the gang gathers once more, in private, and Merlin tells a shortened version of the story he'd told Arthur all those months ago.

None of them are that surprised (Gaius, Morgana, and Lancelot already knew, of course).

If they hadn't suspected Merlin of being a sorcerer before this whole thing started (Leon, Gwaine, and Gwen definitely suspected) , then they had certainly begun to in the last few months. They cheer when Merlin finishes telling them "just how often I've saved your oblivious arses" .

They cheer even louder when Arthur announces that he would be made court sorcerer, and it would be made official in a ceremony before the week ended.

There are no cheers when Morgana stands.

Curious eyes land on her, probably due to how terrified she looks, but the small encouraging nods and little smiles she gets from her brother (her Brother), Merlin, and Gwen, give her the strength she needs to tell everyone of her magic as well.

They see she is frightened, they imagine how difficult it must have been, being at first Uther’s ward, and then his daughter. They smile gently, and she receives hugs a plenty. Once all the congratulations are out of the way, she sits back down next to Gwen, still shaky and full of adrenaline, but happy.

She spends the remainder of the group’s quiet celebrations with her hand gripped in Gwen's under the table.

(Read this how you want, I personally envision it as the start of something)

So the days draw on, Merlin is announced Court Sorcerer, Arthur hires another manservant and gives Merlin a large set of chambers in the same hallways as Arthur's, complete with all the books on magic Arthur can find, and several of the magical artefacts that had previously been kept locked away (Merlin and Arthur are the only ones who are able to gain access to the room, something magicky I guess).

(No one mentions that that corridor is supposed to be for royalty only. Leon figures they're bound to realise that they're in love with each other any day now, and then Merlin will practically be royalty anyway so... might as well cut out the middle bit of having to shuffle chambers again later on).

The kingdom is prospering, and for months after the initial announcement, and implementations of the new laws, sorcerers and nobles from all over Albion, visit Camelot, to give congratulations to the King.

They give gifts and provide knowledge.

The Druids, however, are a slightly different story.

The ones who had been helping with the paperwork, had been... odd(?) around Merlin. But they respected his wish to keep all of that under wraps, or at least until it was announced publicly.

Arthur and Gaius know the whole Emrys story. Lancelot and Morgana know bits of it... but other than that... as far as anyone is concerned, the newly promoted Court Sorcerer is just another wizard.

The new Druids entering the kingdom are paying brief respects to the Forever King (I mean... at this point, he's still only King of Camelot... which is what he was before the magic ban repeal), before staring in reverence at the Court Sorcerer stood by his side.

They respect his wishes to keep the worshipping and gift giving to a minimum, though they still come to him for requests of miracles and ask him to perform druid ceremonies (blessings and name-givings and weddings and funerals (though they prefer to call them celebrations of life, rather than commiserations of death) and such).

Merlin can only brush off so many displays of such awe before the rest of The Gang demands to know what’s up, at which point he has to come clean about the whole... “Most Powerful Warlock To Ever Walk The Earth” thing.

Much to Merlin’s chagrin (and everyone else's amusement) the Druids still insist on calling him Emrys. The stubborn ones sometimes even go for "My Lord Emrys", which gets them a scowl from Merlin (and barely concealed laughter from everyone else).

Maybe... later on... when Morgana is more comfortable with her magic, after a few months practicing with Merlin (with a supportive Gwen Always at her side) , she is announced as the Court Seer.

Merlin had never had much luck with prophetic visions, but once Morgana’s fear died down, once she learned to let it flow, and breathe through it, the visions come easier, and kinder.

She stops seeing only visions of doom, and worst case scenarios, instead she has dreams of the many paths the future may take.

She does not panic when a path seems grim and dark, for she has a King and a Warlock and Gwen, by her side. Always. And they work through the future together.

So the ban has been repealed officially for around 6 months.

Arthur is a couple months away from completing his second year as King. And he and Merlin are still beating around the bush.

The betting pool for when they’ll finally get together has been growing bigger and bigger. Practically the whole castle is in on it now, with Gwen and Morgana as the ring leaders. Whoever wins... will be very lucky.

(It's Leon in the end, he pays attention, and he know what his boys are like. But he's a noble and has no need for the money, he pays for a few rounds of drinks and donates the rest to one of children's homes in the lower town).

But the war comes first.

~

Camelot has been prospering, and has many supporters throughout Albion, but one of the kingdoms, it doesn't matter which, you decide, does NOT like this.

Scouts and small patrols have been needling Camelot’s borders for months now, and Arthur and his Council (and Inner Council) have been making quiet preparations. They know that some sort of... something, is coming soon.

Especially when Morgana begins to dream of battles and blood and lightening.

They prepare for, and expect, a full scale war, but they hope for some negotiations and a peace treaty with the opposition.

Their hopes are dashed, when a messenger is escorted into the throne room, wearing The Opposition’s colours, with a letter.

Said letter is an angry rebuttal of everything Camelot stands for, full of accusations of abandoning tradition, and spitting in the face of great leaders, of which this soft boy-king should NOT be counted as. 

At the end, there was an official declaration of war.

The messenger boy was obviously scared to death, and once Arthur read the P.S, which invited Arthur to torture and/or execute him to the whatever extent he wants, he understood why. Without any hesitation, he offers the boy a job in the stables, a new wardrobe of clothes, and a servant’s bed in the castle.

After the official council meeting on the matter, setting up war committees, laying out contingency plans, organising the distribution of emergency evacuation plans, and discussing potential aid that could be requested from allies, Arthur pulls the gang together, for their own meeting.

“We knew this was coming, and there is no need to panic yet. Our outer borders are well patrolled, and we’re still getting up to date reports. The city walls hold strong, but I want to send out patrols to warn the villages of what’s coming. Start closer to the border, and work our way in. Leon?”

“My Lord, I have teams prepared for exactly that already, I just need to give the word and they’ll go.”

“Good. Morgana, I need you to try and keep focusing your visions, if we have even a small idea of how they might try to initiate the first battle, it’ll be a huge advantage.”

“Me and Merlin have been practising some new techniques to control where and when I can see, we’ll write everything down, and ask the Druids if they’ve seen anything as well.”

Arthur holds in a smile at the confidence in her voice. He is unendingly proud of how far his sister had come, and made a mental note to tell her that when all this was over.

“Brilliant, keep me in the loop. Gwen, when we’re done here, go and let the forgery know, the Royal Household will pay them extra to push out as much long range ammunition as they can. Arrows and crossbow bolts, we need as many as they can produce.” Gwen nods, and Arthur finally looks towards Merlin:

“And Merlin, I need you to be ready. Don’t wear yourself out too much in the next few weeks, I need you in good condition, if we’re to win this with minimal casualties-”

He glances over at Morgana before he continues:

“If the two of you could also ask the Druids if they have any volunteer healers. Make sure they know they aren’t obligated to come, but any help in the infirmaries would be greatly appreciated.” Morgana nods once more, as does Merlin, before he speaks:

“There’s a camp a couple hours ride outside the city at the moment, we’ll head out at first light-” He pauses and closes his eyes for a second, tilting his head, before looking to Morgana:

“They’re expecting us.”

Arthur addresses the room again:

“Right. I think that’s all for now, anyone have anything to add?”

Gaius responds after a moment:

“My Lord, if I could make a request for a few servants to help me set up supplies for the infirmary? Extensive preparations will need to be made to ensure that I have all I’ll need. Preferably people with rough herbal knowledge, if at all possible.”

Arthur nods straight away, responding:

“Yes, of course, I’ll ask the Housekeeper and the Steward who they can spare this evening, and they’ll be ready for you in the morning. Anything else?” At the silence in the room, Arthur tells everyone to get to work.

Leon marches straight down to the training grounds (Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan following him) to ring the summoning bell and inform the knights of the developments, and their tasks.

Gwen heads straight to the forgery (her and Elyan still oversee work there, but they have employees (and a few trainees) to run it) to give the Kings order.

Gaius shuffles out, and makes his way back to his quarters, already making mental lists of ingredients needed, and work to be done.

Arthur, Morgana, and Merlin are left, the royal siblings thinking to themselves, and Merlin thinking to someone else. Arthur contemplates that the whole mental link thing he had going on with the Druids was extremely useful.

Both his and Morgana’s thoughts were interrupted by Merlin huffing, and clenching his fists as he opens his eyes, obviously unhappy with whatever was said:

“Merlin?” From Morgana has the Court Sorcerer looking up from scowling at the table. He replies after wiping the frown off his face:

“Oh, it’s fine. They just made a... stupid suggestion is all. Don’t worry about it.”

“Stupid? Doesn’t sound like the Druids. What was it?”

Merlin looks mildly uncomfortable at that, and replies slowly:

“It... doesn’t matter. I’ll tell you another time. It’s late, you should practice some meditation and head to sleep, no potions tonight. And remember to keep some parchment and a quill by your bed, so you can scribble down anything you see-”

Merlin stands abruptly and heads towards the door:

“-I’m going to check the wards on the outer wall, and push a little more energy into the wells. I’ll see you both bright an early.” With that, Merlin heads out the room swiftly.

Arthur looks to his sister questioningly, but she shrugs as she responds:

“Who knows. “I’ll tell you later” means he doesn’t want you to know, OR he’s hoping I’ll forget because he doesn’t want either of us to know. He’s right though, I should meditate for a while-”

Morgana stands at this:

“- hopefully I’ll see you before we head off, if not, I suppose it’ll be dinner in the evening. Good night, brother.” Morgana leaves the room gracefully, heading in the direction of her chambers.

Arthur thinks for only a moment, before rushing off, catching up with Merlin as he readied his horse, preparing for the journey to the outer walls:

“I’ll come with you. I find I quite enjoy watching you do magic, and to be perfectly honest, I could do with some fresh air to help me think.”

Arthur pretends to ignore the slight blush that dusts Merlin’s cheeks, and readies his own horse. The two of them ride out of the stables and make the journey down the cobbled roads in comfortable silence, side by side.

They take their time on the journey, and the 15 minutes of companionable silence is finally broken by Arthur, who looks at Merlin curiously, as he says:

“So what did they suggest?”

Merlin looks up sharply at that, broken from his deep train of thought as he dumbly replies “What?”

“The Druids. What was the stupid suggestion?” Merlin’s eyes widen at that, and he blushes once more as he looks determinedly forward:

“Oh. That. I told you, it doesn’t-”

“Merlin...”

“Oh fine! They suggested that I... that I forge a mental link with you. Like the one I have with them.” The sorcerer purses his lips at that, and continues to avoid Arthur’s gaze:

“You can do that? Well... would it be such a bad idea? I mean we aren’t going to be able to meet and discuss things as often as I’d like through this whole ordeal. AND you’re basically the Kingdom’s powerhouse, I’m sort of relying on your magical know-how here. Surely it wouldn’t be a bad thing? For us to be able to converse across the battle fields?” 

Arthur, in an effort to not be hurt, reminds himself that he doesn’t know all that much about magic, and it very well could be a stupid suggestion, instead of one that Merlin is just personally opposed to.

Merlin, in response, looks to Arthur in great shock, before sighing and looking down to his horses mane:

“It.... is possible. And fairly easy, technically. But it would be painful, AND permanent. I wouldn’t be able to undo it after we won. And a temporary connection takes far too much energy to maintain, even for a short time. I just figured you wouldn’t want me in your head for the rest of our lives.” He tries to inject a little humour into his words, but it falls flat, and he just seems sad.

Arthur pretends he doesn’t notice however, and responds quickly:

“How painful are we talking? I mean I’ve been hurt pretty badly before. And... how exactly does it work? Would we be able to read each other’s mind constantly, without the other knowing? Or what?”

Merlin raises his eyebrows in shock at that, and his answer comes out slowly as he looks at Arthur:

“Like... a really bad headache? Imagine the hardest you’ve ever been hit, without passing out. It would last for a few minutes after the connection is initially forged, but would fade slowly over the next day or so. And no. Once the connection is established we wouldn’t be in each other’s head all the time, we would just be able to sort of... project our voices to one another. Other thoughts would be safe, even if you were thinking about me, I wouldn’t hear it unless you were thinking to me... if that makes sense.” 

By the end of his explanation, he’s looking nervously at the King, who is deep in thought:

“Hmm. Ok. I... only if you agree but... it might not be a bad idea. Even after the war is over. There have definitely been times where I’ve needed your opinion on something but you’ve been elsewhere, or we’ve been in the presence of someone else. Of course we’ve been fine so far, if you don’t want to, but-”

Merlin interrupts him, speaking quickly:

“I’m fine with it. I agree, it would be useful. So... I can bring what we need back from the camp tomorrow?”

Arthur nods firmly:

“Yes. The sooner the better, we can do it tomorrow evening, if that’s enough time for you?” Merlin once again looks shocked at this, as Arthur stares at him:

“Oh! Yeah, Yes. That’s fine. Like I said, it’s not particularly difficult, and I can ask Gaius to prepare us something for the pain during the day. Are you... are you sure? It is Permanent.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and huffs:

“Yes, you said that already Merlin. Are you sure?”

Merlin nodded his head decidedly, and spoke confidently:

“Yes. You’re right, it’s not a bad idea. Come on, if we hurry, we’ll make it to the walls, and then to the main well, and then back to the castle, before dark.”

The pair of them hurry their horses, and after another 10 minutes of comfortable silence, they finally reach the City Gates.

The guards give a quick bow, and The King and The Court Sorcerer jump off their horses before handing the reigns to one of the Gate stablehands.

Arthur (and the guards) watch in barely concealed wonder as Merlin presses his hands against the rock of the wall, and closes his eyes.

The golden glow can still be seen from below his eyelids, and he hums slightly as he frowns in concentration, seeming to push into the wall.

Arthur sees a short of... sheen, ripple across the rock, and extend into the sky. Merlin steps back and nods, admiring his handy work:

“They’re holding strong, I’ve extended the height as well. Kilgharrah and Aithusa should be the only ones able to get over it without alerting me now, from the air at least-”

Merlin heads to retake his horse, Arthur following him, before he continues:

“Though I still want to check the tunnels again at some point in the next few days.”

“Of course. Relax Merlin, it’s barely begun, and the borders still hold strong. We’ve plenty of time before things kick off in any way.” He makes sure to speak quietly. A public announcement hasn’t been made yet, and it would be bad if rumours started spreading before The King had time to put together a proper disclosure.

Merlin nods distractedly, and urges his horse to go faster as he heads towards the main well, in the town square. It’s late, not long until sunset, so there shouldn’t be many, if any, people there. Arthur speaks again:

“Why are we visiting the well? I wasn’t aware of any problems?”

“There aren’t any, but once the announcement is made, and once the outer villages are told what’s happening, we’ll have hundreds, probably thousands, of people flock to the city for safety. I just want to make sure we’re prepared for such an influx, and boost our water levels a little.”

Arthur nods at his response, but doesn’t say anything. He chooses instead to admire the man Merlin had become. He held himself differently, more strong, confident in who he was. Just like he had back when he was still a manservant, he served Arthur, and his people, above and beyond his job description. Merlin took upon himself, not only the politics he was supposed to oversee, but the personal safety of both the King, and every Camelot citizen, and he did it all with an alarming amount of grace.

Arthur sometimes catches himself thinking that it was almost as if Merlin was built to be a king. He may not like the spotlight, but he was a protector, and leader, unlike anything Arthur had ever seen before.

“I don’t think I ever thanked you, Merlin. It feels like years ago now, that you yelled at me in a forest.” He says it with a grin, but Merlin flinches. He continues before The Sorcerer interrupts him though:

“Really Merlin. Thank you. You were right, I would’ve got there in the end, but it wasn’t fair for people to suffer in the mean time, and you took the fall in their place. You’re a hero to your people... and to me. You should be proud of your accomplishments, I know I am.” 

Arthur resists the urge to duck his head as Merlin looks at him in bewilderment, a definite flush on his cheeks as he replies:

“I... thank you, Arthur. I always had faith in you-” Merlin begins to grin before he continues:

“-and besides, someone had to knock you down a peg. Perhaps you should hire someone to take you into the forest and yell at you every once in a while.”

Arthur laughs at that, and Merlin tries to push down the blush as Arthur responds:

“Now Merlin, why on earth would I hire someone for such a job, when I already have you?”

Merlin chuckles as he answers:

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it, My Lord. Hold the horses, I’ll just be a minute.” With that, Arthur realises they’ve made it to the well, and dismounts as Merlin has, holding both of the horses reigns as he watches Merlin approach the well.

The Sorcerer crouches down, and once again closes his eyes in concentration as he presses his hands into the stone of the well. The glow is a little less bright this time, but Arthur admires it nonetheless.

Merlin finishes quickly, and gathers his horse from Arthur once more, nodding towards the castle.

Arthur follows as Merlin hurries towards the looming building. He wasn’t sure why he was in such a rush, but he only begins questions it when Merlin hurriedly hands the horses of to a stablehand, and continues to run up the castle steps.

Arthur can only just keep up with Merlin, not having the breath to ask him what’s wrong, before Merlin suddenly comes to a stop, catching his breath for a moment to go through a door leading to the highest balcony on the West of the castle:

“Merlin... what.... what are you-”

Merlin wordlessly interrupts The King as he points to the skyline, the sun only a few minutes away from touching the horizon.

There’s not a cloud in sight, and the sky is painted in oranges and pinks in front of them, bleeding into deep purples and blues behind the castle.

Merlin finally mutters, not looking away from the sunset:

“Call me a girl all you want Arthur, but nothing compares to this. It’s beautiful, I come to watch it whenever I’ve got the time.”

Arthur had only glanced briefly at the sunset before looking back at Merlin in wonder, a fond smile on his face (not that Merlin would notice).

He stares at the side of Merlin’s face, the orange sky making the gold in his eyes look even brighter, and the glare of the fading sun making his hair shine. A gentle breeze has Merlin shiver slightly, and Arthur’s smile widens as he responds, so quietly he’s not even sure if Merlin hears him:

“Hmm. Beautiful.” He doesn’t look away.

~

THIS IS COMPLETED! All 5 parts have been posted:)

If y’all want my thoughts on anything specific let me know✌️

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Epilogue 2: A Queen’s Crown

A/N: I know this one is a bit short.  One more epilogue to go, and if you missed my update, it will be posted THIS WEDNESDAY at 7:30pm.  We’re ending the disaster that was 2020 with Aberdeen and Willy!

January 2023

Aberdeen Bloom was freaking the fuck out.  

Anna Wintour just walked into the room.

“Miss Bloom!  Hello,” she greeted, her signature accent filling the room as her dress swayed back and forth.  Every stylish, her boots clacked against the floor as she approached the photographer and set where Aberdeen was about to pose on a beautifully crafted, eccentrically pink upholstered couch in front of styled bookcases holding hundred-year-old editions of books.  

“Hello Ms. Wintour,” Aberdeen said as confidently as she could, shaking Anna’s hand.  Her own dress – a black, high-neck midi-length dress with sheer long sleeves and hand applied golden crystals she was styled in that morning – sparkled in the light of the room.  “It’s an honour to meet you.  Thank you for the profile.”

“It’s not every day a woman sets a record in the writing world,” Anna said.  “I would be a fool not to profile the youngest person to ever receive a Booker Prize for fiction.”

Aberdeen smiled.  Every time she heard that – the youngest person to ever receive a Booker Prize for fiction – she had to pinch herself.  She truly believed her life wasn’t real over these past few years.  Most authors dreamt of being nominated for awards.  Her first book was longlisted for the two biggest literary awards in Canada.  Her second book, published by Coach House again but then picked up by Knopf and published internationally, had won the two biggest literary awards in Canada and had just won the Booker Prize for Fiction, the most prestigious literary award in the world.  She was living in a dream world.

“And you must be the new fiancé,” Anna said, motioning over to where William was standing just out of shot, watching the photoshoot about to begin.  “Pleasure to meet you.  You must be in town to face the Rangers.”

“You as well,” William approached her to shake her hand.  “You made my fiancée’s dream come true with this profile.”

“Well considering how fashionable she’d been on the book tour,” Anna shrugged her shoulders, as if to say it was so obvious to have her in the pages of Vogue.  “I know some of the editors here kept tabs on it.  Did you employ a stylist?”

“No ma’am,” Aberdeen giggled slightly.  If Anna Wintour was about to compliment her on her style, she was going to drop dead.

“Impressive,” Anna nodded.  “Now let’s see the ring.”

Aberdeen held out her left hand.  Anna inspected the ring like a gemologist.  When William proposed with it, Aberdeen was blown away.  He’d designed it himself.  A 4 carat round diamond in a twisted halo design and pavé band.  It quite literally looked like a flower in bloom.  And for Aberdeen’s eyes only, an inscription on the inside of the band in the most delicate handwriting.  “Stunning,” she said, turning to the photographer.  “Make sure you get it.”

“Of course, Ms. Wintour.”

Anna side-stepped to inspect the set.  She took one last look at Aberdeen in her dress and high heels and perfectly waved hair and perfectly applied makeup.  Anna gave her an up-down and suddenly Aberdeen became nervous.  Anna looked towards the stylist.  “We need a crown.  Crowns.”

“Crown?  Crowns?  Multiple?”

“Her novel is titled A Queen’s Crown.  She’s the youngest woman – person – to win the Booker Prize for fiction.  Surely she should wear a crown in her photoshoot.”

“I—I’ll go into the closet,” the stylist nodded, hurrying out of the room.

Anna turned once more to Aberdeen.  “Enjoy.”

***

March 2023

“I’m not about to be murdered by Orla Bloom for not having our wedding in a Catholic Church,” William said as he stuffed pasta into his mouth at the dinner table.  

“But you’re not Catholic,” Aberdeen tried to explain to him, again.  “You don’t understand what we’ll have to go through to get married in a Catholic Church.  There are classes – like legit marriage classes we have to take.  And we have to get, like, permission from the diocese to enter into the marriage and follow a Catholic wedding forma—”

“Listen to me,” William said, interrupting her.  He grabbed her hand from across the table to calm her down.  He knew how stressed she was getting about getting married, if only because there was Toronto and Sweden and Northern Ireland and Scotland to deal with.  That didn’t even factor in hockey, making them only really able to have the wedding within a twelve-week span of the year.  That also didn’t factor in her job, which, between book tours and interviews and appearances and writing her next, also created limited time and availability for their wedding date.  But when she felt his hand wrap around hers, he saw her visibly relax.  “I love you.  We could go down to the courthouse right now to get married.  But this means a lot to Orla.  And I know you won’t say it, but I know how much this means to you, to be married in the same church you went to as a kid in Etobicoke,” he said softly.  “So we’re doing it there.  No ifs, and, or buts.  I’ll take any class I have to in order to marry you.  I’ll donate.  Give my blood.  Whatever.  We’re getting married there.”

Aberdeen couldn’t take it.  She got up from her seat and moved to sit in William’s lap.  She didn’t care that they were at the dinner table, and she didn’t care that William had to push back his chair really quickly to accommodate her.  All she wanted to do was melt into him completely.  “Thank you so much,” she whispered against his lips as she kissed him.  “I love you.  You know that, right?”

William smiled.  “I do.  And I love you too.  That’s why I gave you that ring.”

***

TALK OF THE TOWN: Booker Prize-winning and Toronto-based author Aberdeen Bloom and William Nylander (you know, of the Toronto Maple Leafs) just bought “the last lot on the Kingsway” – an old 1970s style bungalow empty for some time now.  Sources say the couple plan to tear it down (of course) and build their dream home, a Scandinavian-inspired house where Bloom will no doubt produce her next great novels.  Bloom and Nylander will be two blocks away from her former and his current boss, Brendan Shanahan, President of the Toronto Maple Leafs.  Bloom has always said in interviews that she will never leave Toronto, so it’s fitting that the girl who was born and raised in Etobicoke would buy on one of the city’s most exclusive and coveted streets.

***

May 2023

“Vogue is coming to the wedding?  Vogue?!  Like…Vogue magazine?!” Aleida asked as she fed a now two-year-old Helena sitting in a high chair.  Aberdeen smiled wryly before nodding her head.  Aleida was still dumbfounded.  “Like…Anna Wintour Vogue magazine.  That Vogue magazine.”

“That Vogue magazine,” Aberdeen nodded.  “They’re profiling it for an issue, along with my dress fitting.  And then when the house is done, they’re going to do a feature on that too.”

Aleida looked towards Bee, who was just as shocked as Aleida was.  “We need to go shopping for new dresses.”

“We definitely need to go shopping for new dresses,” Bee agreed.  “I better let Aryne know too.”

“Guys, it’s still like, two years away.  We set the date for August 23rd, 2025,” Aberdeen smiled as she reminded them.  “You will have plenty of time.  Plenty.”

“I don’t know about that.  Weddings creep up on you quick,” Bee joked.  Aberdeen completely understood where she was coming from.  Bee and Morgan were getting married in July.  William and Aberdeen were invited, of course, and would be going.  Bee spoke a lot about the planning the past few months and always gave updates whenever the girls were all together.  “I mean, I thought a year would be plenty of time for the wedding.  And it is, don’t get me wrong…but it definitely came sooner than I thought!”

“You need to get the venue sorted now before anything else,” Aleida offered.  “You’re two years out so you should honestly have your choice in place.  But I don’t think there’s any venue in this city that would turn you down.”

“We’ve already booked,” Aberdeen smiled wryly.  She was just full of surprises for the girls today.  They looked at her, waiting for a response.  “The Aria ballroom at the Four Seasons,” she revealed.

“Ooooooooooh,” both women cooed simultaneously at the revelation.  Even Helena join in on the sound.  “That will look stunning,” Aleida commented.  “I can see it now – those floor-to-ceiling windows with flowers hanging and—”

“—don’t forget the drapery over the dancefloor—” Bee offered.

“—the drapery over the dancefloor—”

“—and the centrepieces…big, tall arrangements that stretch up—”

“Ladies, ladies, ladies,” Aberdeen held her hands up gently, causing Bee and Aleida to stop momentarily.  Aberdeen paused for dramatic effect.  “We’ve gotta write all this stuff down.”

The girls smiled and wiggled in their seats excitedly.  “I’m giving you Rachel’s number,” Bee said, immediately mentioning her florist.  “Your last name’s Bloom.  There’s gotta be a shit ton of flowers at this wedding.”

***

July 2023

Aberdeen had tears in her eyes as she watched Morgan and Bee say “I do”.  William had been holding her hand throughout the entire ceremony, rubbing the back of it gently with his own thumb.  When they finally had their first kiss, it was the only point he let go so he could whistle loudly and clap and cheer.  Bee looked extraordinary in her lace dress.  Aberdeen could only imagine what would be in store for her when she went wedding dress shopping.

When the reception began, Aberdeen couldn’t help but get even more emotional.  Knowing what Bee had gone through in her life, and seeing her dance with Morgan for their first dance made some tears fall down her cheeks.  William noticed almost immediately, even though he was behind her; he wrapped his arms around her waist tightly and nestled his head onto her shoulder.   “That’ll be us soon,” he whispered.

Aberdeen nodded her head.  “I know.  I’m so excited.”

“I love you so much.  I can’t wait for you to be my wife.”

“And I can’t wait for you to be my husband.”

“And baby daddy.  Don’t forget baby daddy,” he joked.

Aberdeen giggled.  She knew he said that to make her laugh, because even though these were tears of joy, he didn’t like to see her cry.  “Baby daddy too,” she nodded.  “I can’t wait to have a thousand more little Nylanders running around Etobicoke.”

“We’re going to take over the world.”

***

August 23rd, 2025

Aberdeen looked at her dad as he held his arm out for her to grab.  He looked so spiffy in his suit, and every time she saw him today, he had a giant smile on his face.  It hadn’t left since their early morning wake up call to get hair and makeup done.  He’d cried when he saw her in her dress for the first time.  Now, if it was even possible, his smile was even wider.  “Ready, sweetheart?” he asked.

Aberdeen nodded, linking her arm with her father’s.  “I love you so much, dad.”

“I love you too, Aberdeen.  Every day I thank my lucky stars for you and Siena and Camden.  You’ve brought so much light to my life.”

Aberdeen’s bridesmaids had already walked out – Jacquie, Stephanie, Daniella, Kasha, and Siena as her maid of honour.  She knew Alex would be standing beside William at the front of the aisle, with Camden (now a smart-as-a-whip-16 year old) and some of his cousins there too.  The music began playing.  She took a deep breath.  The doors opened.

As she walked down the aisle with her father, she saw a lot of familiar faces.  Morgan and Bee, of course, cradling a six-month-old Andy.  Fred and Aleida, with a four-year-old Helena in the cutest little tutu-style dress.  Auston, John and Aryne, Zach and Alannah, Joe with his wife and kids, Pierre, Rasmus, Mitch and Steph, Jake, Courtney, and Luna, Justin and Audrey – so many of the Leafs.  Beth Zadakis.  Her editor from Coach House Books.  Her editor from Knopf.  Jason, Jennifer, and their four girls.  Brendan and his wife.  Her grandparents, who came in all the way from Northern Ireland.  Michael and Camilla.  Her mom.

And of course, William.  William, who was wiping tears away from his eyes.  William, who looked so dapper in his tux.  William.  

Her William.

[anotheronechicagobog]

Connor Rhodes x Reader Motherfucking Done

requested prompt:  Hey!😊 Could you write an imagine with Connor Rhodes, like the reader is a doctor, and he is jealous of her friendship with Will? Cute ending maybe. Thank you so much

written by: @anotheronechicagobog​

warnings: swearing, pregnancy complications, this is shit, I’ll probably redo it later, but I’m so tired and stressed, oh and Cornelius Rhodes murdered his wife and no one can tell me otherwise

You and Connor returned to the U.S. as fast as you could. Connor more anxious than you, but then again, he had reason to. Two weeks ago you and your husband were at a party thrown by one of his patients at his penthouse. His massive, over the top, Fast and Furious 7 penthouse. It was three stories with a balcony with a pool. You and Connor always felt out of place at these parties, not even Connor had grown up around such extravagant wealth. But you made do, it was part of doctor-patient culture apparently, so you went. You hadn’t been feeling all that well, nauseous and with a skull-splitting headache. Connor had gotten another email from his sister, so you didn’t want to stress him out more than he already was. You and Connor had mostly stuck to the shade of the indoors, but eventually, you both had to go outside. Connor went to socialize with the host while you went to the third floor to the balcony that hung over the pool. There was a bar there, but you weren’t interested in alcohol. You didn’t think you could stomach it, but you hadn’t been able to stomach anything lately. You’d just sat at a table with a large umbrella and ordered a water.

You’d started feeling dizzy, the heat was suddenly beyond unbearable. You started panting and you knew that stressed out or not, you needed to tell Connor what was going on and leave. Something was very, very wrong. You turned in your seat, waving trying to get his attention. You leaned against the railing while still sitting down and he didn’t notice again. So and flimsy, shaking legs you stood up, clutching the railing. Sweat was pouring down your face and neck, it became so much more difficult to breathe, you were about to try yelling his name over the blaring music when, in a matter of seconds, you felt like you were going to faint, your entire body went limp, and you fell unconscious.

When you woke up you were, not only in a hospital, but the one you worked at. Connor, who was clutching your hand and praying in Hebrew noticed you stirring. “Y/N, sweetheart? Oh thank heavens, how are you feeling?”

“Groggy. What happened?”

“You fell off of the balcony at the top on the penthouse, three stories into the pool. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”

“It wasn’t bad when we left for the party, for most of the time we were there even. It was just at the end, I tried to wave at you, but looking back on it I probably should have just gotten one of the waiters to get you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Please don’t be. The, uh, the doctors found out what was wrong though.”

“Really? What? Oh please tell me it’s not cancer, you know I’ve got a family history of that.”

“No, you don’t have cancer. You, uh... You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant? Like with a baby?”

“Yeah, heat just doesn’t agree with some women and pregnancy though, so we need to move.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Yeah, you are... We’re going to be parents.”

“We’re going to be parents.” The dam finally broke and happy tears flooded your face. Connor joined you seconds after, but his tears were a combination of joy and relief, after all, he did watch you fall three stories into a pool.

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

You and Will had gone to med school in New York together. You’d been fair acquaintances, but he was a bit too cocky and you were a bit too serious. You both decided to have two specialties, the one you shared was emergency department medicine. You became Facebook friends, but that was about it. Truthfully, you didn’t think you’d see him in person again unless there was a reunion. So you were a bit surprised when you ran into him on your way to your OB appointment. “Y/N? It’s been a while, how are you?”

“I’m doing great. Really, really great, actually. I didn’t know that you came back to Chicago, though. When we were in school you always said you’d never come back.”

“Things changed. Congrats, by the way,” Will gestured to your obviously pregnant belly, “how far along are you? How are the symptoms?”

“Five months. Uh, the symptoms have been really bad. And I’m just on my way to an appointment though so I should get going. But maybe we could get dinner sometime, I’d love for my husband to meet you so that he’ll finally believe all the crazy med school stories I have thanks to you. He works here too, actually.” You weren’t kidding, pregnancy had taken a huge toll on you. You had wretched morning sickness, high blood pressure, gestational diabetes, and a pregnancy-related iron deficiency. It was a quick walk from the entrance to the elevator to the OB ward, so you thought you’d be fine, but you were starting to feel weak and Will noticed. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I need to sit down.” Will whipped around and grabbed a wheelchair for you, helping you to get in. “What’s wrong do I need to call your doctor or husband?”

“Honestly, I already feel better, but would you mind taking me to OB or getting someone else who can? This has just been a difficult pregnancy overall, so feeling faint really isn’t unusual for me.”

“Yeah, I’ll take you, don’t worry.”

“Thanks, I’m just gonna text Connor and let him know, he was going to try to meet me there if he can get away from work for a minute.”

“You don’t happen to mean Connor Rhodes, do you?”

“I do, why?”

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

You found out why when Connor burst through the doors just after you and Will had entered. He kissed you on your forehead and gave you a once over. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Connor, I’m okay. I just started feeling weak so Will got me a wheelchair. I think that I was just on my feet too long, well too long while pregnant. I really hate that I can’t do what I used to be able to...”

“I know, but you should have just gotten help at the door, here let’s go talk to Dr. Hajjar. Thanks, Halstead, I’ve got it from here.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Excuse me?”

“Will!”

“You heard me, Rhodes, why didn’t you meet her at the car or entrance? You can’t really think you’re too important to help your pregnant wife.”

“Will that’s not-”

“That’s enough Halstead, you should get back to the ED, where your obnoxious presence is actually required.”

“Okay, that’s more than enough jabs from both of you. Will, thank you for helping me get here after I tried to get here myself when I probably shouldn’t have, Connor, I’m sorry for being so stubborn and I’m glad you had time today to come to another of my appointments which are happening more and more frequently.”

Will and Connor begrudgingly nodded at each other. “Thanks for getting her here safe Halstead.”

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

You decided to hold off on dinner together after seeing how little they got along. Having only realized at that first meeting that the ‘doctor douche’ your husband ranted about so much was your friend from med school. So instead you did what you could to keep the peace whenever you were in the hospital, which was frequent, but their pissing contest was grating on your nerves. It all came to a head the day you went into labour two weeks early. Connor was finishing up a surgery with Dr. Downey so Will was the one in the ED when you were rolled in. “Get Connor, Will.”

“Are you sure Y/N?”

“YES I’M SURE!”

Connor came running into treatment four minutes later and gently kissed you all over your face. “I’m here, Y/N. I love you so much.” Will, who had been holding your hand while you waited for Connor, scoffed.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME WILLIAM?! I AM SO OVER THIS SHITTING CONTEST YOU HAVE WITH CONNOR. YOU ARE BOTH GROWN-ASS MEN GET OVER YOURSELVES. YOU ARE BOTH GOING TO APOLOGIZE TO EACH OTHER AND HUG RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I AM MOTHERFUCKING DONE!”

“Y/N-”

“WILLIAM SEAMUS HALSTEAD I KNOW THAT YOUR MOTHER TAUGHT YOU BETTER THAN TO INCUR THE WRATH OF A PREGNANT WOMAN!”

“I’m sorry, Will.”

“I’m sorry, Connor.”

“Y/N Y/L/N you are officially my favourite person in the world, I was just about to ring their necks!”

“No problem Maggie.” You gave a weak smile as another contraction hit and Dr. Hajjar looked under the blanket before nodding. “Alright, Y/N, it’s time to push. If you’re not her husband or part of the delivery team; get out.”

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Five days later you were still in the hospital, because of all the complications you’d had during pregnancy. Dr. Hajjar wanted to make sure your blood pressure wasn’t a high average before she discharged you. So when Natalie went into labour, you could hear her screams from down the hall. You’d also been where Will briefly went to hide with his tail in between his legs after Helen, Natalie’s mother in law, dressed him down. When you heard her screaming for Will, where he was, you gave Connor one look before he sighed and called Will.

Connor briefly appeared at his father’s ‘I-want-control-as-much-of-my-son’s-life-as-possible-so-I-donated-money-in-my-wife’s-name-for-mental-health-when-it’s-mostl-likely-that-I-murdered-her’ ceremony. He only went for the speech, and when it was over he approached his sister. “Connor, it’s nice to finally see you. You’ve been back in Chicago how long?”

“Almost four months. I, uh, want you to meet my wife and daughter.”

“You- what? Who? How?”

“Well I personally have absolutely no idea how I got lucky enough to have a baby with my wife Y/N, much less have her love me as much as I love her, but I’ve decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“How old is your daughter?”

“Five days today.”

“Oh my God... When can I-”

“Now. You can meet them now.”

“I’ll get dad-”

“Claire don’t. Please. He’s the reason I left Chicago, you’re the reason I came back. I just don’t want the happiness I feel to end just yet.”

“Okay.” She hooked her arm around his as he led her out to the hall. “Did you really come back for me?”

“Well Y/N couldn’t stand the heat while pregnant, but you’re the reason we came back here and not to Seattle.”

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

You were cradling your bundle of joy and poop, Aviva Nadya Rhodes, in the lounge chair when Connor and Claire came in. “Hi, you must be Claire, I’m Y/N.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you too. Is it okay if I hold- Aviva?”

“Sure, here just sit down on the loveseat and I’ll pass her to you.”

“Oh, she’s so tiny. And she looks just like you Y/N. Doesn’t look like she got anything from Connor. You sure are a lucky girl, huh?” Claire had Aviva’s head in the crook of her elbow and was giving the infant an unbridled, beaming smile.

”Hey! Stop trying to turn my daughter against me.”

“Connor don’t worry, you’re going to be an amazing dad and she is going to love you so, so much. I can feel it.”

“Y/N’s right, Connor. You’re going to do great, plus I’m only joking, I promise. Aren’t I, my sweet, sweet girl?”

“She loves my daughter more than she loves me.”

“I’d normally say no and try to reassure you, but she does,”

“And that’s not a bad thing.”

“Yeah, exactly. I love you, Connor.”

“I love you too Y/N.”

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Sorry this was so bad, I’ll probably re-do this at some point cause I really like the whole faint-cause-pregnant-move-to-Chicago storyline I came up with. 

Again, sorry.

[n3rdybird]

Blue Blood is No Guarantee

Hey guys, man this idea has been percolating in my mind for like two years.  And I finally got some written.  Hope you enjoy! Please comment, reblog, give kudos! Also if you’d like to be tagged, just let me know in a comment/ask/message! :D

Taglist!

@sofiao12​

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WWE Shield!Bodyguard AU fanfic

Dean Ambrose x FMcMahon!Heiress

Rating: M (for safety)

Warnings: Nothing too graphic, but someone is beaten, predatory behavior towards women, main character has anxiety/panic etc. (But again, nothing too graphic)

The midmorning sun was hiding behind gloomy clouds, which reflected Dean’s mood at having to be awake.  He was definitely more of a night owl and wasn’t excited at the prospect of being up and about before noon.  Mornings were for sleeping in.  But when he got a call from a blast from his past, he was intrigued enough to leave his bed instead of catching a few extra z’s.

 Dean jogged across the street, flinging his hand up when a car honked at him.  When he reached his destination, he felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him.  Police Precinct number 11.  It had been years since he’d been inside, but it looked and felt exactly the same.  Cops chatting over shitty coffee, belligerent yelling coming from the holding cells.

 A voice cut through the din and drew his attention.

 “Ambrose, I didn’t think you got my message,” a large man with tan skin called out, waving him over.  Detective Dave Bautista, while up in years, still looked formidable.  When he raised his hand, his wrinkled button-up looked like it was straining to stay in one piece.

 “Detective, you look like shit,” Dean responded, taking in his disheveled attire and dark circles under his eyes.

 The detective rolled his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath.

 “And here I thought you might have grown up, follow me.”

 Dean gave his old friend a ‘who me?’ look before following the man to his office.

 The office was cluttered, filled with boxes and papers strewn about. Dean peeked into one of the boxes, seeing a framed photo of Bautista accepting a commendation from the police chief and the mayor.

 “Are ya feng shui’ing in here?” Dean asked, using the framed photo to gesture to the half-full boxes.

 “It’s what I called you here for,” Bautista said, shutting the door and closing the blinds.  He walked back over to his desk and pulled a thick folder from his desk.  Dean put the frame back in the box and crossed his arms.  He sauntered over to the desk and stared at the folder on the desk.  The folder looked like it had been through a war, creased and taped to hell and back.

 “Is that what I think it is?”

 The detective sighed and sat in his chair.

 “It is.  Also the reason for the boxes.  I’ve been put on suspension to ‘get with the program and leave ghosts in the past,” he muttered.

 Dean sucked air through his teeth and shook his head.  For as long as he knew him, Detective Dave Bautista had a lifelong mission.  Bring down the McMahon family.  On the surface, the family seemed normal, aside from the millions of dollars in the bank.  The family ran several businesses, did the requisite charities and ribbon-cutting ceremonies.  But there was a dark layer underneath the gilt facade. There were rumors of backroom deals, protection rackets, drug running, fraud, embezzlement, bought cops, the whole nine yards. The family was untouchable though, brushing off the suspicion and accusations like water off a duck.    

 “Damn man, that’s gotta sting.  But why am I here?”

 Bautista leaned forward to flip open the folder and slide it across the desk.  The top paper was a full-page photo of the McMahon family. Patriarch Vince McMahon in the center flanked by his family; Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley, Shane McMahon, and the youngest Elizabeth McMahon.  Elizabeth’s face was circled in red ink.

 “Elizabeth McMahon, the youngest of Vince’s kids.”

 Dean nodded.

 “Yeah, I know.  She’s been in the news a lot this year, for charity events.”

 “She’s become the new face of the McMahon family, fresh out of grad school.  She’s the key Ambrose.  I think I can flip her,” Bautista informed the younger man.  Dean’s eyes widened.

 “That’s ambitious,” the younger man muttered, flipping through the top photos, all of Elizabeth at various events.

 “I was getting so close, and bam! I had upstairs up my ass, telling me to leave it alone.  Before I knew it, I got hit with a suspension.”

 Dean tossed the photo of the pretty brunette back into the pile.

 “Still not hearing why I’m here though.”

 Bautista rifled through his papers, pulling a photo of Elizabeth with a large suited man following at her elbow.  Dean whistled.

 “That is a big man.”

 “This was Elizabeth McMahon’s bodyguard, Paul Wight aka Big Show.”

 “Was?”

 Another photo was tossed across the desk, this time showing an autopsy photo of said man, beaten to a pulp.

 “Jesus, what the hell happened to him?”

 “A week ago, I think Elizabeth tried to make a run for it.  Mr. Wight may have tried to help her.  When she was recovered by some of her father’s men, he said he lost track of her temporarily,” he added when Dean’s eyebrow rose.

 “Something tells me Mr. McMahon wasn’t pleased,” he said, tapping the photo.

 “No, he wasn’t.  Which brings me to you.  I’ve been keeping my ear to the ground, and Elizabeth still hasn’t been assigned a new bodyguard.”

 Dean froze, knowing exactly where he was going.

 “Oh no no no.  I’m out.”

 “Dean, come on.  I’m so close to putting that family away for good.  You’ve got the credentials.  Elizabeth wants out and even though she’s Vince’s daughter, I don’t think he’s gonna let her go.  Not if she talks.”

 The blonde ran his hand through his hair.  He felt guilty. Detective Dave Bautista might have been a hard-ass when he was younger, but he helped Dean, bailed him out too many times to count.  It was thanks to him that Dean was able to be where he was now.  The best friends, no brothers, he could ask for and a career he loved.  He looked around the office, and at the detective at his desk. 

 Bautista looked tired but he still had hope.  Hope that he’d be able to take down the family that caused so much death in his city.  Dean picked up a photo of Elizabeth, she was smiling and talking to a young patient in a hospital.  Her smile was genuine and he felt a pang of guilt when he realized she wouldn’t be able to leave her family without help.  She’d either be beaten down until she has no willpower left, becoming a cog in the bloody McMahon machine, or she would be killed.

 Dean groaned.

 “If I agree to this, what makes you think they’d hire me anyway?”

 Bautista smiled a grin that seemed to take years off the older man’s face.

 “I have a plan.”

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

 A crowd applauded as Elizabeth McMahon presented an oversized check to an after-school program.  She shook hands with some of the kids, giving a few high fives or hugs.  She made her way back to the podium.

 “This is just one of the many charities that my family believes in, and we appreciate all the support you’ve given us.  Together we can help make a difference for our community. Thank you again and please enjoy yourselves,” she concluded to another round of applause.

 The crowd dispersed to mingle and get drinks.  Elizabeth chatted with the charity directors before stepping off the stage.  She made small talk with some of the attendees when a manicured hand gripped her elbow.

 “I’m gonna borrow my sister for a moment, please excuse us,” Stephanie apologized. The group released Elizabeth from their chatter, complementing the older sister on their family’s success and generosity.  Stephanie smiled wide and nodded her thanks before ushering her sister to the side.

 Elizabeth kept up her smile, even though her sister’s nails dug into her skin.  She racked her mind, trying to figure out why Stephanie might be angry with her.  The duo ducked into an unused room.

 The younger sister pulled her arm away, flexing her muscles.

 “Good thing I brought a cardigan.  I’m sure the interview this evening will go well with bruises on my arm,” she snapped, staring at the redness of her skin.

 Stephanie rolled her eyes at her sister’s dramatics.

 “Change of plans, Father dearest wants you to meet him.  I’ll be speaking on your behalf.”

 Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.

 “It’s an interview I’ve been preparing for weeks.  You aren’t even a part of the board for the charity.”

 The elder sister smirked and waved her hand dismissively.

 “Please, as if I couldn’t handle some local news junket. Blah blah blah money for the less fortunate, blah blah we are so blessed to be able to help, blah blah blah, the children are our future.  Finish with a big smile and handshake.  See, not too hard,” she mimed with a schooled professional face.

 “So what does Dad need me for?” Elizabeth sighed, knowing she didn’t have a leg to stand on against her older sister.

 “You need a new bodyguard after the last one ‘left’.”  The smile on Stephanie’s face caused her sister to internally shudder.

 Elizabeth liked her old bodyguard, Paul aka Big Show. He was a gentle giant with her, and his massive size proved to be a formidable deterrent to anyone who would do her wrong.  And her father had him killed for one mistake.  Her mistake.  But this could be her chance.  Stephanie would be busy with the interview, and her husband, Hunter, would stay by her side.  That left her driver, she could persuade him to stop somewhere, and she’d make a break for it.

 “Orton will be escorting you,” her sister said, breaking her reverie.

 “Oh, surely that isn’t necessary.  My driver can take me.  Mr. Orton should be here, keeping an eye on you two.  He is after all assigned to you,” Elizabeth protested.

 “He’s going with you.  No discussion.”  Stephanie raised a brow at her sister’s refusal.  “This defiance lately needs to stop.  Remember, all this-” she said, motioning to the event down the hall, “Is for the family.  Not you.”

 Elizabeth bit her tongue.  It was the truth.  All the charities, all the speeches, all the donations.  It was just a way for her family to mask their crimes.  And she was the smiling face, the front.  And she’d never get out.

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

 Elizabeth hated being alone with Randy Orton.  Known as the Viper, he had worked for her family for almost twenty years, longer than most.  Ever since she was a child, the Viper was always around, watching, waiting.  Her older brother had used stories of Orton to frighten her into compliance when she was younger.  They had frightened her and when she grew up, she realized they weren’t exaggerated tales to keep her in bed at night. Randy Orton was a dangerous man, a fact she learned when she saw him standing over one of her father’s business partners, covered in blood.

 It was late, and an 8-year-old Elizabeth McMahon was tired of her father’s party.  They were never fun, just a bunch of her father’s friends.  There were rarely any children her age, and her siblings were much older than her. However, her father instructed the two older McMahon children to keep an eye on their sister, no matter how much they complained. Elizabeth was hovering around her older brother Shane when he grew annoyed at her presence. She didn’t remember what she had done but he told her that Father had gotten her a special present and it was in one of the unused rooms in the basement.  (To keep her from finding it, Shane explained when she looked skeptical.)  After all, the basement was off-limits to Elizabeth, citing it was only for the adults. But Shane cajoled and spun an elaborate tale of the fantastic present waiting for her, that he couldn’t believe his little sister wouldn’t want to go find it.

 Feeling emboldened by the attention she was receiving from her older brother and his friends, she agreed to his plan.  With Shane leading the way, Elizabeth followed. Looking back, she should have noticed the way Shane’s friends were holding in their laughter, but she was so excited at the prospect of a gift and wondering what it could be, she didn’t see the signs until it was too late.

 The dark room was mostly empty, with a few tables and some chairs stacked in the corner.  By the time she had realized there was no present, Shane had shut the door and locked her in.  Far away from the party and anyone that could hear her, Elizabeth was alone and trapped.  She pulled on the doorknob, shaking it relentlessly, banging on the solid door to no avail.  What felt like hours later, but probably only 15 minutes later, she was exhausted from panic.  The child curled up in a pile of unused tablecloths, the musty smell tickling her nose.  She didn’t remember falling asleep, but only waking up when she heard a voice.  Instead of being relieved, she immediately panicked.  Rather than the stern voice of her father, it was the Viper.  She hid under a pile of heavy fabric, rearranging the folds of the fabric to disguise her form.

 The door opened with a bang, and fluorescent light exploded throughout the room.  Through a gap in the fabric, Elizabeth watched as Randy pushed one of her father’s associates into the room.  His hands were bound behind his back, and he already sported a wicked bruise on his face.  The man was pleading, begging the Viper to let him go.  But the man was silent, and just shook his head, leading the man to the chair in the center of the room. 

 With practiced ease, the Viper hooked his leg behind the man’s leg, forcing him to sit in the bolted chair.  He was restrained quickly as he watched the Viper circle him.  If there were questions asked, Elizabeth didn’t remember them. After the first muffled thud of flesh hitting flesh and the grunt of pain that followed, Elizabeth ducked her head, burrowing deeper into the pile of fabric.  Mouth pressed closed, not even wanting to breathe deeply, she could hear each blow as it landed.  The cries of pain reverberated around the empty room, but could not be heard beyond the door.

 Eventually, the screams lessened to subdued gasps and groans.  Elizabeth brought her eyes up and dared to look into the room once more.  The man’s back was to her, but his body was limp, sagging forward.  Randy was in front of him, surveying the damage he did.  His hands were dripping with blood, his crisp white shirt spattered with red.  He paused, as if feeling her eyes on him, and he slowly surveyed the room before coming to a stop on the pile of drop cloths.  Elizabeth let out a raspy breath, which came out like a squeak.  She clamped her hands over her mouth. At that moment, the Viper smiled, his blue eyes like ice as he lifted a bloodstained finger to his lips in a shushing motion.

 “Be quiet Little Mouse.”

 The rest of that night was a blur.  All Elizabeth remembered was one of her father’s men, William Regal, picking her up and carrying her to her room.  His accented voice lulled her to sleep as she refused to let go of his hand.  The next few days drifted in a haze of nightmares, panic attacks, and a battery of medical tests. The aftermath of that night included a prescription for anti-anxiety medicine for Elizabeth and Shane received the harshest tongue-lashing that ever came out of the McMahon family patriarch.  He was kicked out of the main house and demoted in the family business.

 And the Viper?  Well, he was kept out of sight until Elizabeth was old enough to understand the world she lived in.  And now he was sitting less than a foot away.  He wore black button-ups under his crisp suit now.  Less visible bloodstains, she mused internally.  She tapped her nails against her clutch.  Being this close to the Viper made her skin crawl.  Stephanie did this on purpose, she was sure of it.  Punishment for her behavior as of late, or just because she wanted her sister to squirm.

 “Still quiet as ever,” Randy observed, his voice tinted with smugness.

 Elizabeth pointedly looked out the window, ignoring him.

 “Aw Mouse, you don’t want to talk to me?”

 She stiffened at the nickname.

 He reached out and trailed his hand down her bare arm.  Elizabeth darted her eyes to the front of the car.  The driver caught her eye in the window and looked away.  Coward.  She tried to wrench her arm away, but he grabbed her upper arm where Stephanie had earlier, making her hiss.

 He slid across the bench seat, invading her space.  Elizabeth’s heart started to pound.  Too close, too close.  He reached toward her face and she closed her eyes, unwilling to see his cold blue gaze.  One beat, two beats, three.  She opened her eyes at the sound of the door opening.  He had reached across her to open the door.  She hadn’t even realized the car was stopped.  They were at one of her father’s properties in the industrial district.

 Elizabeth steeled herself, she had only been here once before and had no desire to be here again.  Regal waited on the sidewalk for her, guiding her with a hand on her back.  He turned back to Orton, who had a shit-eating grin on his face.

 “Go back to your charges, I’ll take over,” he ordered in a clipped tone.  Regal ushered Elizabeth inside the nondescript warehouse.  As soon as she was away from the gaze of Orton, she sagged against the British man’s side, breathing heavily.

 “Are you alright my dear?”  He saw the beginning of a bruise blooming on her fair skin. Elizabeth took in deep lungfuls of air, trying to calm herself, anchoring her mind to the firm touch of Regal’s hand on her back.  Calming her nerves, she straightened, patting the older man’s arm in reassurance.

 “I’m fine, thank you, William.”

 When he went to retort, she shook her head.

 “I’m fine.  Let’s get this over with.”

 He nodded albeit reluctantly.

 “Of course, this way please.”

 She allowed Regal to guide her through a labyrinth of pallets, all filled to the brim with ill-gotten goods.  She heard shouting jeers and the sounds of fighting she paused to steady herself.

 “Deep breaths,” William murmured against her hair and she nodded.  The door ahead of them was flanked by two guards, who opened the door for the pair.

 Her father, the patriarch of the McMahon crime family, stood next to a railing.  Vince McMahon, millionaire, businessman, philanthropist, and criminal.  Although up in years, he still had a commanding aura.  Whatever Vince says, goes.  No discussions.  No mistakes.  No forgiveness. 

 Down below, men were bare-knuckle fighting.  Elizabeth stood to the side as Regal announced her arrival to her father.  She glanced down at the fighters and immediately wished she hadn’t.  Several men were off to the side, having lost their respective fights.  Most if not all sustained several wounds, black eyes, gashes to the forehead, broken noses. Some looked scarcely older than eighteen, throwing themselves in the meat grinder for her ‘family’.  Others were older, gruff, the weight of the world showing on the lines of their faces.

 William motioned for Elizabeth to join him and her father at the railing.

 “How did the event go?” her father asked, not taking his eyes off the fights below.

 “The charity event went well, though I wish I could have stayed to do the interview,” Elizabeth said, keeping her tone even.  It would do no good to start a fight with her father.

 Vince barely registered what his daughter said, waving it off like a piece of lint on his expensive suits.

 “Stephanie can handle it.  I wanted you here,” he said.  The current fight ended, yells and jeers reverberating through the metal warehouse.  Though all Elizabeth could hear was the dull thud as one of the fighters hit the ground.  She swallowed the revulsion, schooling her face into one of cool indifference.

 “In order for you to understand the severity of your previous bodyguard’s mistake, I invited you here.”

 He gestured for his daughter to join him at the railing, as the next fight took place.  Elizabeth chanced a look at Regal, who nodded.  She made her way to the railing, standing next to her father.

 “I will do anything to protect this family, my legacy,” he started.  Elizabeth nodded along with his words.

 “When Mr. Wight grew lax in his responsibilities, he became a liability to you, to this family, and to me.”

 Elizabeth almost jumped when her father’s hand dropped on top of hers.  It was rare for the McMahon patriarch to show any sort of affection, especially when not in front of the cameras.

 “I don’t like liabilities Elizabeth,” he said, turning his gaze from the men downstairs to her eyes.  “Liabilities cause chaos.”

 The youngest McMahon could only nod, as his hand tightened on hers, facing the carnage below.

[13dead-ends]

Chapter 6 Weddings and Birthdays

Chapter 6 of Blood Bound

Henry Cavill x Named OC

Summary: Henry takes Nina to a wedding and surprises her for her birthday. Nothing could ruin Nina’s day except that one thing...

Word Count: 5360

Warnings: descriptions of riots, estrange family member, swearing, slow burn sorry not sorry

A/N: So so so sorry this took forever! my laptop stopped working and I finally could afford a new one! so look forward to more updates! Also the next chapter is a Halloween one! Also shout out to @hellcaster901​ she’s amazing for always reading my stuff before I post! I hope you enjoy!!

I walked down the hallway to my apartment door. I fumbled with my keys to separate the right one from the others. I almost missed the box leaning against my door. I looked at the label and it had my name on it, but I wasn’t expecting anything. I opened my door and carried it in. I put it on my counter and got a pair of scissors. I cut it open and perfect fit inside was a solid black box with a note taped to the lid.

Nina,

Please wear this tonight. I’ll see you at 3.

-Henry

I chewed on my lip. The box was just black, now I know it’s clothes inside, but it had to be expensive. What was it? I slid my hand over the smooth cardboard. I pulled out my phone and texted the man himself.

What’s in the box?

Why don’t you open it and find out?

I rolled my eyes, but I knew I wasn’t going to get anything out of him. So, I pulled the lid off and put it to the side. Wrapped perfectly in tissue paper was a pretty black dress, a matching handbag next to it. I held the dress against my body. It hit me mid-thigh and the sheer fabric of the sleeves would cuff at my wrists when I put it on.

If I wear this, I’ll mess it up.

But do you like it?

I had walked to the mirror in my bedroom to look at it on me. It was pretty. I blushed at the thought of him picking it out for me.

Yes, I love it. Thank you, Henry.

Good. I’ll see you tonight.

I sighed and laid the dress on my bed and went back to the box. I took the purse out and threw away the tissue paper. I looked at my watch. It was only noon, so I hopped in the shower. When I got out, I did my makeup.

Where are you taking me?

I sent a text to Henry.

It’s a surprise. Don’t worry too much about it.

I rolled my eyes. He really wants me to freak out. I continued my makeup and tried not to think of all the things that could go wrong. Around fifteen minutes before Henry was supposed to be here, I was ready. I looked at myself in the mirror. The dress was on now and I had packed my new purse with my things. I decided to wear the shoes he got me while shopping from before. Maybe the extra height will be good for whatever we’re doing. I smoothed the dress down. It fit really well. He somehow got my size right. I went out to the kitchen and tried not to freak out.

Right at 3 o’clock, Henry knocked on the door. I bolted out of my seat and grabbed my bag and went to the door. I opened it and Henry stood there in an all-black suit, matching nicely with my dress. I smiled at him and he looked me over.

“You look beautiful.” He told me.

“Thank you. For the compliment and the dress.” He held out his arm and I linked mine through it. “You look great.” He smiled and my knees felt weak.

“Thank you, love.”

“So, can you tell me where you’re taking me?” He smirked over to me as we walked down the hall.

“It’s just a friend's wedding, okay?” He laughed.

“Oh! I mean I hate small talk, but I can handle a wedding.” I waved my hands. He chuckled.

“You don’t mind coming?” I shook my head.

“No, of course not.” We took the elevator and got to his car. I was relieved it wasn’t something with cameras. I wasn’t ready for that. We drove out of the city a bit, and it was quieter. The trees got a little thicker as we drove and soon, I saw a pretty cabin with wedding decorations out front. The cabin was huge as we pulled up to it. Henry parked and helped me out of the car like a gentleman. I could hear soft music playing from inside. He linked our arms as we walked to the door.

“So, tell me about your friend.”

“His name’s Andy, his soon to be wife is Jessica.” I smiled. “He was one of the writers for Tudors.” I nodded.

“Alright.” I know names, that was good. “I love weddings.” He smiled.

“This should be fun then.” Inside was a beautiful open space, a large chandelier hung from the ceiling. Long benches sat in rows in front of us and in front of that was a small stage for the bride and groom. There were people milling around already. Some even sitting down waiting for the ceremony.

“Henry, you made it!” Henry and I turned around to see a man in a nice tux, a flower in his collar.

“Scott, hey.” They shook hands. “How are you and Kayla?”

“I’m great.” He was glowing, smile wide, hair was pushed back with gel, but it was getting messed up but the second. This must be the groom. “Just wanting to get this started. Kayla’s somewhere hiding until the ceremony.”

“Congrats on the wedding.” Henry smiled. “It’s good to see you. Are you still writing scripts?”

“Oh of course. I was actually wondering if you…” they spoke about a show for a little bit and Henry introduces me to him, but then we have to go sit for the ceremony. We sat in a bench on the groom’s side, our thighs pressed against each other as more people came and sat down. Soon enough the ceremony started, and they went through all the motions. The bride was beautiful and glowing just as much as her fiancé. They couldn’t keep their eyes off each other.

The reception was held in a different room inside the large cabin. Tables and chairs surrounded the dance floor and another chandelier hung from this ceiling. Guests were milling around already, and soon enough Henry found someone he knew, and we got into a conversation. I didn’t say much, I liked listening to Henry speak about his work with his friends.

“And who’s this?” Henry had just introduced me to Charlie, another writer friend. His wife, Becca stood next to him.

“Oh, this is my friend, Nina.” He shook my hand. “She’s a writer too.” I shook my head nudging Henry.

“Well, sorta, I’ve never been published-“ Charlie chuckled.

“As long as you’re writing you’re a writer.” I smiled. “What do you write?”

“I write articles for a news website at the moment.” I swallowed.

“There you go. Do you like journalism?” Henry’s hand pressed into the small of my back.

“Of course! It’s great!” Charlie nodded, and was about to reply until the wedding party was announced. Henry led me to our table, which happened to be with Charlie and Becca. She sat next to me and the guys sat outside of us.

The bridal party came out couple by couple and then the bride and groom came in, Scott was carrying his new wife in his arms. She giggled as they walked up to the main table, sitting in the two center seats. They said their speeches and soon we were eating. Turns out Becca and I got along. The only person she knew was the one who brought her, just like me. Henry had his hand on my thigh most of the time. As we finished, Henry and Charlie were pulled away to the small patio outside the room. I spoke with Becca for a little while longer and decided to go find Henry again.

His friends walked inside as I walked out. He stood looking out onto the wooded area in front of him. The patio was lit with twinkling lights and a small fire pit in the center. I walked right up to him and stood by his side.

“Hey, Nina.”

“Hey.” I sighed. “I have a question.” He turned to face me, giving me a half grin.

“What would that be?”

“How did you get the right fit on my dress?” I turned to face him; our chests almost touching.

“I have a good eye.” My cheeks heated up. “And I remembered a little from our shopping trip.” I laughed.

“I hope I at least seem normal to your friends.” I mumbled.

“You’re amazing, but I would like to hear you speak more.” I looked down, but he pulled me closer, our chests touching, and I was forced to look up at him. “Thank you for coming with me.” I felt myself rolling up on my toes. I tilted my head up and I could’ve sworn I saw Henry come closer, but he stopped, shutting his eyes and clenching his jaw.

“They’re cutting the cake.” I let out a breath, my heart was racing, and I knew he could hear it.

“Oh,” I swallowed. “Okay.” I leaned back, popping the bubble we had created. He linked our arms as we went back inside, and when I sat down, I wanted to pour. Did I read the situation wrong? I really thought he was moving toward me. Did he not want to kiss me?

We went back in and watched as the happy couple smashed cake in each other’s faces. I sighed. I got caught up in the wedding, he probably did too. Weddings get everyone excited. We ate cake and then the dancing starting. Becca pulled me away to dance. After a few songs we went to the restroom together.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Henry?” I swallowed as I fixed a piece of hair.

“We’re friends.” She raised an eyebrow.

“Close friends it looks like.” I shrugged feeling heat rise up my neck.

“No, it’s not like that.” I shook my head.

“Oh, come on, do you not see how he looks at you?” I stared at her. “You both already look like a couple.” I let myself smile at that.

“Well, we’re not.” She shrugged.

“Yet.” She giggled and we went back out. We went out and found our dates. Henry had training in the morning, so we didn’t stay for much longer. We walked back out to Henry’s car and started the drive back. It was quiet and I looked out the window, trying not to think about the almost kiss we shared tonight. We’re almost back into the city when both of our phones rang almost at the same time. I furrowed my brows and grabbed my phone.

“That was weird.” Henry turned onto the next street. I unlocked my phone and saw it was a news notification. I opened it and gasped. Some footage of a riot breaking out in front of a donation company. I recognized it. It was a popular company, called My Type, but they only had labs. They donated by the bag, plus part of their supply goes to hospitals around the area. Windows were smashed, and smoke billowed out of two of them. People outside were running around. At least they hit it late at night, so hopefully no one would be inside.

“There’s a riot at a donation company.”

“Right now?” Henry looked at me for a second.

“Yeah, I think so.” Videos filled my social media and it looked like they were anti-donors. “It’s probably anti-donors.” I rubbed my temple.

“Christ,” He huffed as we entered the city. I kept looking for more information, but they were still rioting, and police hadn’t gotten control yet.

“Isn’t that building close to your place?” Henry had gotten close to my place but slowed down.

“I’m not sure, let me-“ Henry stopped as a few cop cars flew down past us, turning down my street. “Shit.”

“You shouldn’t stay so close to that tonight. You’re stuck with me.” He looked over to me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just worried,” He put a hand on my thigh, squeezing.

“I know, me too.” He sighed. “Let’s just get to mine and relax.”

“Okay.” Soon enough we were at his place, Kal was at the door, all but running us over with excitement. I smiled, scratching behind his ears and around his neck.

“If my dog likes you more than me, we’re going to have to end the contract right now.” Kal hadn’t even noticed as Henry kicked off his shoes.

“Oh, I could never. He’s all yours.” I told Henry, booping Kal’s nose. Kal made his way over to Henry now, tail wagging. “See?” I kicked off my shoes and set my bag down.

“You can borrow my clothes again if you’d like.” Henry stood up from Kal.

“Yeah, thanks. I love the dress, but I’m ready to get out of it.” I caught a small smirk on his face as he turned down the hallway. I blushed, realizing how my choice of words could be taken. I pursed my lips and went to the bathroom shutting the door. Okay, so I almost kiss him and now I’m spending the night. I face palmed and leaned on the door. My heart couldn’t handle the confusion. I did prefer sleeping here. Who knows where the rioters would go tonight? I chewed on my lip, too much has happened tonight. I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I’d be in Henry’s house, without a buzz to put me to sleep and with all the events from today running through my head.

“Nina! It’s on the news.” Henry called. I opened the door and went out to the living room. Henry was standing by the coffee table, holding the remote. I sat on the couch, looking at the television.

“The police have locked down Fifth and Third,” the news caster said. “But things are still escalating close to the donation company.” I swallowed. The images of busted windows and police in riot gear gave me goosebumps. There were cars on fire and people darting in and out of frame.

“Police advise residents to stay in their homes, remember to lock doors, and stay safe.” I rubbed my arms.

“Maybe we should board up the windows.” I joked but didn’t laugh.

“I don’t think they’ll get this far, but I won’t let anything happen.” Henry didn’t look at me. He had taken his suit jacket off, his black button up, straining against his large shoulders.

“God, I hate this.” The screen cut to footage of some paramedics pushing someone into an ambulance. I shut my eyes.

“I really hope that building was empty.” Henry cracked his neck as the donation building flashed on the screen. We watched it for a little while and then I really needed to get out of the dress. Henry gave me clothes and I changed, gently placing the dress over the couch so it wouldn’t wrinkle.

“You ready for bed?” Henry shut off the tv and came over to me.

“Yeah, and I don’t have to take your bed this time.” I patted the couch.

“No, Nina. It’s fine.” I huffed. “You know, it is big enough both of us.” My face warmed up. “Of your comfortable with that.” I blinked. “Let me get changed.” He went to his bedroom and I caught my breath. Can I sleep next to him without freaking out? What if I snore again? I shook my head. I heard the door click open again and I took a deep breath. Fuck it.

“Let’s just get to sleep.” He was already climbing under the blankets. I tried to calm down as I walked over to the other side. I got in bed and then Kal pushed his fluff ball of a body in between us. I laughed. “He’s making sure there’s no funny business.” Henry winked at me and I laughed. He turned the bedside lamp off and we were in the dark.

“Goodnight Henry.”

“Goodnight Nina.”

 When I woke up next, I was sweating, and my heart was racing. I shot up in bed, still feeling like I needed to run. I had a nightmare about the riots. I tried taking deep breaths to calm down and pulled my knees up to my chest.

“Nina? What’s wrong?” Henry’s voice made me jump. I forgot I was in his bed.

“Um, it’s fine.” I rested my chin on my knee. “Go back to sleep.”

“Your hearts beating so fast right now, I don’t really think it’s fine.” He sat up next to me. Kal had moved during the night, so nothing blocked him from pulling me closer, his big arm wrapped around me. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Yeah. About the riots.” I let myself lean into him a little, his presence felt good.

“Are you alright?” He rubbed my arm slowly.

“Yeah, I think so. It was just intense.” He sighed.

“I’m sorry, love.” He squeezed me tighter.

“I just need to go back to sleep.” I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

“Come on then.” He pulled us down on the pillows and didn’t let me go. I let myself smile and cuddle closer to him. I shut my eyes and it didn’t take long for me to fall back asleep.

When I woke up again, I was in Henry’s arms still. I was laying on his chest, one arm stretched across his stomach and his were locked in a loop around me. I smiled again and relaxed back into him, just five more minutes.

Suddenly a big ball of fur jumped up on the bed, waking both of us up completely. He licked our faces and stepped all over us. “Kal!” Henry yelled, laughing. “Get down you big oaf.” I laughed as Henry pushed him away to no avail. “I’ll feed you, if you just calm down.” Finally, Kal jumped down, by now I had rolled over to avoid being suffocated. Henry sat up. “Sorry Nina, go back to sleep.” He got out of bed and pulled the blankets up for me, but it was still cold without him. He stepped out with Kal and I smiled. I could get used to that. I let myself think about waking up like that every morning. Just for a second. I must’ve fallen asleep to the dreams on my head. Next thing I remember is Henry waking me up with a gentle hand on my arm.

“Nina, wake up.” He said softly. I didn’t open my eyes.

“Five more minutes.” He chuckled.

“No come on. I’ve got to get you home.” I opened my eyes, and he was smiling down at me.

“Okay, fine.” I took a deep breath. “I’m assuming the riots are done?” I sat up and rubbed my eyes.

“Yeah, for now. They did arrest a few people last night.”

“Good.” I huffed. “Anyways, good morning.” His blue eyes were bright as he looked at me.

“Good morning.” I got up and went to the bathroom. “Nina, you can just take those clothes home, so you don’t have to put the dress back on.” Being locked in the bathroom, I let myself be excited about it.

“Thank you!” I adjusted the large T-shirt I was in. “I’ll bring them back as soon as possible.”

“Don’t worry about it, love.” I stepped back out and we left his place. “I don’t mean to kick you out so quickly.”

“It’s okay. I wasn’t even supposed to be here in the first place.” I buckled my seat belt as he pulled on to the street.

“I just have training today, that’s all.” I nodded.

“Well, have fun and be careful.” He snuck a glance at me and smiled.

“Thank you.” He dropped me off and kissed my cheek goodbye.

  I pulled the phone away from my ear as Irene yelled. “Happy birthday Nina!” I laughed; I was lying in bed when she called. It was midnight here, the exact minute I got a year older.

“Thanks Irene.” I rubbed my eyes. “You’re always the first to say it.”

“Of course! Has my package got there yet?”

“Yes! It got here yesterday!” Irene had gotten me a fancy new journal I had told her I wanted. “I’ll probably started writing in it soon.”

“How’s the article about the riots going?” Of course, after the riots last week, I started writing a draft of an article. It was longer this time, and I still hadn’t gotten all the information I needed. Investigations were still being done, obviously, so it’s going to have to be an ongoing article.

“Alright. I’m still trying to find all the information I can.”

“I want you to be careful okay. It’s tense in LA too. You need to stay home at night.” I rolled my eyes.

“So, I have Henry, and now you’re nagging me.” Henry had been a little more protective of me lately. He made sure I was home at night, with calls if he couldn’t come see me himself. As much as I teased him, I loved it.

“Because he’s not an idiot.” She sighed. “I just worry.”

“I know, thank you. I’ll be careful.”

“So how is everything with Henry?” I could picture her wiggling her eyebrows.

“Good, I think.”

“You almost kissed him last week, now it’s just good? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong! That’s what’s wrong. I don’t know what to do.” I rubbed my face. “He almost kissed me, Irene. Not kissed me. Obviously, whatever I’m feeling, is one sided. Which is fine. He doesn’t have to like me, but god damn it I’m confused.” She laughed at me but didn’t stop my ramble. “He can be impossible to read, which isn’t very fair sense he can hear the tiniest change in my heartbeat. He knows when I’m nervous, which is too often when I’m around him. He just looks at me sometimes and it gets me going.”

“Have any more of those dreams lately?” Irene teased.

“Shut up!” I kicked my feet like a child, but I felt better now that i said all that out loud.

“Have you tried actually asking him if he likes you?” I scoffed. “And him not kissing you isn’t an answer.”

“It may as well be.” I muttered.

“No, you have no idea what the man’s thinking. Maybe he got nervous, or thought you wouldn’t be into it, or literally anything.” She sighed.

“The thought of asking him makes me want to vomit.”

“Well, then I guess you’ll never know.” I groaned and rubbed my temples. “Don’t complain. It’s your choice, but that means you have to make it.”

“I know, you’re right.”

“My advice is to just ask him, and then you can stop being annoying about it.” I laughed. We talked for a little while longer and then I went to bed. I woke up to the sound of a knock on my door. I groaned and got up, throwing a robe on and tying the band around me. I looked through the peep hole and saw a delivery man holding flowers. I pursed my lips together and opened the door.

“Ms. Locke?” I nodded. “Can you sign here?” I signed his paper, and he handed me the vase.

“Thank you.” I shut the door and set them down on the island. I stepped back. They were roses. Of course, they were roses. They were a beautiful deep red. It wasn’t huge but they were beautiful. I picked the card of the plastic stand.

Happy Birthday Nina.

~Henry

I smiled. I didn’t say anything about my birthday to him, but I knew you could look up donors' birthdays at the company. I had looked up his. I did know that he was filming. Maybe he would keep it simple, but I obviously couldn’t expect nothing. I put the card back and pushed the vase in the center of the island. I went back to my bedroom and got dressed. I was getting myself breakfast at my favorite coffee shop and I was going to continue researching my article there for a while. Then I wasn’t sure what. It was my birthday though. I’d do what I want.

I followed through with my plan and now I was sat in a corner of a coffee shop, gaping at videos of the riots. There weren’t any deaths reported as far as I could find, but a few hospitals had a lot of injuries and who knows how many didn’t go to a hospital. I was typing out a draft as it came to me and I had alerts on my phone for certain sources and Twitter feeds. I rubbed my temple as I deleted a sentence, typing it again in another way. This was a big article; my editor already was emailing me for a draft. The last article had gotten some of the higher ups at the website attention and they were excited to see my next piece. The pressure was difficult this time, but I’d manage. This stuff needed to be talked about.

I huffed when my phone started ringing, I really didn’t want to answer it, but when I looked and saw Henry’s name. My initial irritation washed away, as I answered. “Hi Henry.”

“Happy birthday, Nina.” His voice was bright, and it made me smile.

“Thank you. And thank you for the flowers, they’re beautiful.”

“I’m glad you liked them. How’s your birthday so far?”

“Good. I got some breakfast and I’m working on the article now.”

“How is that going?”

“Good, there’s just a lot I still need to write out.” I finished the sentence I was on and leaned back in my chair.

“I’m sure there is. I can’t wait to read it though.” I smiled, Henry was the first person ask me if I was going to write an article and just thinking of that made butterflies in my stomach.

“Well I hope I don’t disappoint.” He chuckled.

“You won’t. Anyways, I was calling to ask you something.” I chewed on my lip and just waited for him to ask. “I know it’s your birthday, but filming is gonna go late and I was wondering if you’d go hang out with Kal for a while?” I sighed, thank god it wasn’t some fancy dinner or something. “I didn’t bring him, and I don’t want him to be lonely.”

“Honestly, dog sitting is the best birthday gift ever.” He laughed. “Of course, I’ll go see him.”

“Thank you so much. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I’ll have Penny drop off a key.”

Around five, I walked up to Henry’s, excited to see the big fluff ball. Henry asking me to do this made me all kinds of happy. I got to the door and unlocked it. When it opened, my nose was immediately filled with the smell of cooking food. I furrowed my brows. I heard jingling metal and Kal came running to me. “Hey, buddy. Are you cooking me dinner?” I whispered to him as he enjoyed the scratches behind his ear.

“Surprise!” Henry came in next, wearing casual clothes, and holding up a glass of wine out to me.

“Henry, what’s going on?” I gladly took the glass, though. Slipping off my shoes.

“I wasn’t going to do nothing for your birthday.” I smiled, my cheeks getting warm. “I’m making dinner.” My heart fluttered.

“For me?” I followed him to the kitchen. It smelled like spices and was slightly warmer than the rest of the house.

“Yeah, of course. I’m making roast. I hope you like it.” There was a timer on the oven that was almost done, and the dining room table was set beautifully with two places. I think I hadn’t stopped smiling since I walked in. “Go sit, it’s almost ready.” I sat down, sipping my wine.

“I’m pretty sure I’ll love it. It already smells great.” I told him. He smiled at me before going to the oven. I watched as he pulled the pan out and my mouth watered. He got us plates and came to the table.

“Henry, thank you so much.” I grinned as he sat down, setting a plate down in front of me. He sat across from me, but if he were to set his arm down just right, I’d be able to reach out and hold his hand.

“You’re so welcome. I didn’t think you’d want anything big-“ I jumped when my phone rang in my pocket. I rolled my eyes, reluctantly pulling it out. Henry’s chuckled at my reaction. “It’s fine.” I looked at the screen and my stomach dropped. It was my mom. I gulped. “Are you going to answer it.

“It’s my mom.” He pursed his lips. “You don’t have to; you don’t owe her anything.” I shut my eyes and took a breath.

“I know. Just give me five minutes.” I stood, cursing this woman as I walked to the bathroom. I knew he could probably still hear, but I didn’t want him to see whatever reaction I was about to have.

“Mom?” Part of me thought somebody might have died. What time even was it in California? The last time we spoke was because my grandfather had passed.

“Nina, I just wanted to call and say happy birthday.” I chewed on my lip leaning on the counter.

“Oh, thank you, mom.” There was a hefty silence. I cleared my throat. “Look, I’m actually with someone, I should get back- “

“How have you been?” I rubbed the bridge of my nose, trying to not have a panic attack.

“Good mom, actually really good.” I suddenly felt like bragging. “I live in London now. In my own apartment.”

“London? Honey, that’s great. How’d you end up there.” I clenched my jaw.

“Work.” The silence returned and a lump formed in my throat.

“You’re still- “

“Yes.”

“Alright.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Well, have a good birthday, Nina.”

“Thanks, Mom.” We didn’t hang up for a moment, both waiting on the line, then it went dead.” I set the phone down with a slow hand and tried breathing in deep, but it felt like my chest couldn’t expand that far. I remembered feeling the same tightness when I found out I had a peanut allergy. My mom sped me to the hospital as my thermostat swelled. It was like the tightness when I first told them I was donating. My mom’s eyes changed that day.

“Nina?” A soft low voice came at the door. “Are you alright?” I shook my head and fixed myself in the mirror.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Let me try your food.” I opened the door, trying to seem okay. I can’t let her get to me anymore. Before I could go back to the table, Henry pulled me into his big arms, setting his chin on my head. I wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my head in his chest. The hug washed almost every negative feeling I’m feeling away. “Thanks.” I whispered. He led me back into the table and we talked about light things. I laughed as he told me a story about Kal chasing birds and I showed him pictures of my new jack o lanterns. I don’t know if the wine or him was the reason, but I felt warm.

Our plates were cleared away, but we still sat at the table. It was quiet now though, our last conversation finished. “Can I ask you what your family’s like? At least from before, when you were growing up?” Henry asked.

“Well, I wasn’t planned, so my mom was eight months when they got married. High school sweethearts and all that.” I leaned back in my chair, feeling like I ate too much. “They were pretty normal, though.” I shrugged. “Standard American couple.”

“Did you have a good childhood?” I nodded.

“I think so. Up until I graduated I had really good relationships with them.”

“I’m sorry, Nina. I wish I could-“ I shook my head.

“There’s nothing anyone can do, Henry.” I reached out and touched his hand. “Thank you anyways.” It was quiet as I let my fingers linger on his skin.

~~~

Taglist!

@xxxkatxo​ @omgkatinka​ @thereisa8ella​ @lamthetwickster​ @thatgirly81​ @vikingsbifrost​

[bicommunitynews]

Each year we publish a roundup of bi events at the end of December. Naturally this one will be a little less packed than usual. Nonetheless wishing you a very different and better year ahead! At the start of the year very few of us realised what might be ahead as the COVID-19 virus was still thought to be far away and most likely confined to a corner of China. So for those first ten weeks or so of 2020 things were happening as normal. So it was at the start of January when Layla Moran became the first UK MP to come out as pansexual. Courts compensated a worker who had been told to pretend to be gay rather than bi in the workplace and returned confiscated medals to an ex serviceman. Northern Ireland started to consult on same-sex marriage while we learned women are more likely to divorce one another than men. There was good news on HIV figures and from the European Court declaring that government inaction on LGBTphobic hate was no longer acceptable. And the Welsh Government declared it would go a step further than merely repealing Section 28 with active work to ensure children are making informed choices on sex and relationships. In February Bi Pride got a mention in the House, while LGBT History Month saw many more bi-related talks than usual. Overseas Switzerland voted to recognise LGBT hate crimes. There were bis on TV in Doctors and I Am Not OK With This as well as a new season of Atypical to look forward to. And new research showed peculiar findings about bi people and skin cancer.

With the pandemic seeing the start of lockdown in the UK during March events started to be cancelled like Birmingham BiFest and BiFest Wales. As Prides started to fall like dominoes, Eurovision announced its first ever rollover winner. In the USA a St Patrick’s Day parade barred a beauty pageant winner from marching on account of her bisexuality. We had more bi representation on TV in Love Is Blind’s demonstration of double-standards over bisexuality, BBC polyamory drama Trigonometry, and Batwoman. The House of Commons held its first ever debate on LBT women’s health while Canada declared its intention to outlaw so-called “gay cure” so-called “therapy”. And new figures showed more people identifying as bi in the UK than ever.

In April many of us were starting to get used to life indoors and wondering how much a loo roll could fetch on eBay there were sobering thoughts about how the lockdown meant a lot of bi and LGBT people were now trapped in unsafe situations. The USA responded by relaxing its limitations on bi and gay men donating blood with Australia contemplating the same shift. The first LGBT club closure of the pandemic was announced in Brighton. On TV we had a raft of fresh bi viewing with the return of Flack, Killing Eve and Harley Quinn. But the big bi drama of the month was away from TV as BiNetUSA abruptly tried to claim copyright over the public domain bisexual flag.

Most LGBT magazines stopped publishing for the time being due to the pandemic but we took the decision to keep BCN coming out as one little strand of bi life we could keep fairly normal, so our April edition was the second of six in 2020.

Staying indoors gave people some time to organise and so in May there were online campaigns about the blood donation ban and conversion therapy. Being indoors also meant people could virtually visit museums worldwide. New research showed bi men were the most closeted group across Europe.

As the Black Lives Matter movement drew headlines worldwide in June dating app Grindr dropped its race filter. One of those “how did that take so long?” moments. There was a big victory in the US Supreme Court, while over here a new faux LGB equality campaign group came out against same-sex marriage, for anyone who hadn’t already realised they weren’t on the side of any queer folks. The BBC nonetheless carried on quoting them as if they were a serious human rights campaign. The annual Bi Book Awards winners were announced, though without (for now) the usual glamorous awards event. The Grammys got their tongue tied online. In good news, Gabon decriminalised sex between women and between men and Scotland opened up civil partnerships to any couple regardless of gender. BiCon had a bumpy month with two organising teams quitting in the space of a week.

In July we had more happy news from abroad as Montenegro recognised same-sex civil partnerships and South Africa changed its rules on how marriage ceremonies are conducted. It was less good elsewhere as the budget for PrEP was cut in the UK and in Poland the presidential election came down to a knife-edge before going the wrong way. We learned bis have worse experiences of crime than other people and the GLAAD annual review of film releases noted cinema was getting Whiter and gayer, with no bi male representation in major film releases.

We are used to a host of Prides in August so it was a hot summer with so much less to do every Saturday! However some ran online and BiCon happened in a very slimmed-down online form. The run-up to Bi Visibility Day began with more Town Halls deciding to fly the bi flag. New US research showed bi youth experience of bullying.

It’s Bi Visibility Day, Bi Week and Bi Month in September and among the delights was improvements in dictionary definitions. Northern Ireland inched further forward on equality while the UK courts rules that the Equality Act includes nonbinary people. Coming-out guide Getting Bi came out for the Kindle. In the USA we saw the first research on how the COVID-19 pandemic was hitting the LGBT communities while here Stonewall had research on how many bis are out to their families – not many.

In October we learned there would be a biopic of former US Congresswoman Katie Hill. Netflix dropped GLOW. In good news for millions the Pope made a small shift toward a better attitude to LGBT lives on the part of the Catholic Church. And in bad news here, a BBC which was veering increasingly far from balanced and responsible reporting of LGBT issues warned staff they should not attend Pride events even in their own time and private lives.

All eyes were on the USA in November as Donald Trump lost by a huge margin in the election there – albeit not as wide a margin as many opinion polls had predicted. Biden won with over 80 million votes in the end – more than any previous candidate. Biden’s speech missed out the “B”. Europe considered its next five year plan on LGBT work without the UK, and in Poland there were symbolic protests against the hateful “LGBT free zone” populists. We all realised we had been too distracted by COVID to notice that the LGBT inclusion work in schools that had started under the Conservative-Lib Dem coalition had been quietly dropped by the new minister for Women and Equalities.

Most important, COVID vaccines started to be approved. After a very hard year, change was at last in sight.

In December the three month ban on blood donation for bi and gay men and their partners was completely rewritten – for better and for worse – though the new rules don’t come in until a few months into 2021. Kyrsten Sinema rocked a great wig and coat in Washington. There was divine justice as a homophobic MEP got caught breaking COVID rules at a gay party. And Switzerland – whose good news on hate crime kicked the year off – decided to let same-sex couples marry. And so ILGA’s annual world map of LGBT rights showed a ripple of changes. And our fifth edition of the pandemic landed on subscriber doormats, more or less in time for Christmas.

That was 2020. To our most sincere delight, it is in the past. Here’s to a very different year ahead.

[alistonjdrake]

Part Two: Queen for a Hundred Days

Queen Trella ana’Gustavo Pecora Mother to: None Born: Year 1725 after the fall of the Saints Died: Year 1752 after the fall of the Saints

Queen Trella is most often remembered as a childhood friend to King Frederick. But how much time could they really have spent together? King Frederick was sent to Oskya to be a companion for Vadik Ponsonby when he was ten years old. What we know of his childhood before then was spent back and forth from Tadrus and Palogne, studying with whoever his mother could afford. The truth, as far as historical records show, is she was a potential candidate for marriage chosen by Johannes before Arturo announced his plans for Frederick. She came to live in the Pala Harviso before Frederick made a departure. At most, they would have known each other for a month.

It is said, much to the displeasure of Lady Helena, Trella stayed in the Pala Harviso even after Frederick was gone. Perhaps if she was not destined to be with the older brother, they would pair her off with Sebastian. But no such deals were made and she was often referred to as an “honorary daughter”.

Lady Helena may not have liked her, but she was a delight to most others in residence and the rare visitor. Trella was called bubbly and sweet, and although she lacked a certain level of wit and intellectual ability she had a keen sense of humor and was often in a good mood.

There is no record of what her relationship was with Sebastian or how much time they spent together. There is also no record as to whether they seriously courted the idea of marrying.

However, when King Frederick returned to Tadrus to take his place as Royal Governor following his father’s death, they quickly fell into a close relationship. They would have had very little in common. At this time, King Frederick would have spent most of his life away from Tadrus and its culture, upon his arrival he was regarded as strange and practically Oskyan and demeanor and hobbies. Despite was he became famous for, what he elevated Tadrus to in his short time there, in the beginning, he was different and would have been unlike anyone Trella had ever met before.

She remained in Tadrus when King Frederick went to Graza to claim Escan and for the entirety of his marriage to Queen Isolde, although contemporaries claimed she had been a lover of his once they were married. In truth, King Frederick took his fewest paramours during his first marriage and his official accounts do not include his second wife.

They were married during a lavish ceremony in Graza. The costs were astronomical as Frederick was keen to erase Isolde from history. He talked to anyone who would listen about how much he loved his “dearest Trella” but few could claim to say they’d seen the two spend all that much time together. No evidence of letters between them has ever been found and while she spent more time in his chambers than her own, it was also said that Trella had great difficulty sleeping by herself. In place of Frederick, she would sleep with one of her ladies in waiting. During her short reign, Frederick jumped from three paramours to twelve, each of whom would sit on either side of the royal couple during public dinners and events.  

It would be said that during the wedding, while art would betray Trella as radiant and glowing, the guests would describe her as looking pale and “green” as King Frederick had all three of his original paramours present. She was coronated on the same day. When Frederick placed the crown on her head some joked they saw her neck bruise from the weight. At their own wedding banquet, Archpriest Davalos pulled the new queen aside and warned her not to consummate her marriage.

Whether or not she did remains a mystery. After their marriage, Frederick occupied himself with pressing matters of the state in the vacuum following Queen Isolde’s death. Frederick’s claim to the throne was always shaky, but at least being married to the true-blooded Rios queen had given him leverage. In her death, people wondered if the throne should rightfully pass to her children and heirs and a regent be named. Trella busied herself with repairing their reputation among the common folk and cultivated the first big wave of the noble practice of donating to charity and caring about public opinion.

She was one of the most charitable queens and one who showed herself among the common folk the most. 

Her first task as queen seemed to be undoing any stern atmosphere that had been put in place by Queen Isolde. She wanted things lively. She had daily tea parties with other noble ladies and took it upon herself to plan dinners and dances. When Frederick had time for her people said they looked like a good couple. They made each other happy, but it was also noted that Frederick did not hide that he thought she “lacked education” and was not a good conversation partner. 

She eventually became friends with some of King Frederick’s paramours, differing greatly from Queen Isolde and most of those who would come after her. Her closest relationship would be with Angela ana’José Cadaval a duchess and wife of one of King Frederick’s councilmen. Angela was often called Trella’s counterpart as she had spent her youth traveling with tutors and was highly educated and worldly. She was also ten years older. 

This was something King Frederick certainly liked the most about her given he had spent his last marriage being constantly criticized, but Queen Trella’s open approval and warmth towards his paramours made it into a quirky family. 

At one of her parties, two drunk noblemen would get into a fight and stumble into the queen, resulting in her falling and breaking her elbow. A week of arguments and rumors would follow before King Frederick became convinced the only way to appease his wife was to implement a law stating that no one may touch a member of the royal family without express permission, and doing so would result in great punishment. 

Trella would often be accused of doing anything for attention. She would be called silly and loud and grew very dependant on Angela. So much so, at her own events, Angela would speak for her. 

No one is exactly sure why the two were so close although some speculated it was a result of Angela’s ambitions for her and her own family but Angela would also be disposed from her position a year after Trella’s death and be sent back to her ancestral home.

Queen Trella would die on the hundredth day after her coronation and wedding doing just what she was always accused of. Getting attention. She drowned during a race in one of the pools in the gardens of Graza Palace when she got a cramp and the law put in place to make her happy ended up being what prevented those watching from rescuing her. King Frederick would get rid of the law days later but he would also marry again within a few months so we can’t say he was too broken up about it either.

Very little remains from Queen Trella’s short reign. Her body was returned to Tadrus for burial. She is most remembered by Lady Angela ana’José Cadaval, Duchess of Corudiz who outlived both her and King Frederick and remarked once to a friend who asked, “She was good in bed. A little dumb, though.” 

[holy-mountaineering]

This Tarot Spread is for @kristennotchristian Thank you for donating!

Here’s the full Qabalistic Tree of Life Spread that I do. What I’m going to do is go through and briefly explain each card, its position on the Tree, and then I’ll give you a summary/synopsis of the spread as a whole. 

Think of this spread as a sort of quantum map, or even the land of a regular map, everything is happening at once, in each place. It’s important to think of yourself as moving “through” the map but you are also simultaneously everywhere at once. For the sake of this specific experiment, think of this as a map. Maybe as a person, the Qabalistic Adam Kadmon.

Where we’re starting the journey from is Kether, the monad, the first sign of creation. We’ll call this your hometown, since it is where you’re from originally. Here we have the  Ace of Swords, the root power of Air or the mind.

This is the sword of the Magus and the magician’s Sword is the physical representation of our mind and it’s ability in its rawest state of being. Thelema is inscribed on the blade of the Sword in Greek because the Magus uses their mind to the end of their True Will. The Crown of light at the tip of the Sword is the illuminated mind, because in its singleness and sharpness it is the foundation of the mind, intellect, and communication powers.

Use your mind for what you need it to do. Remember that a sword is useless at best and dangerous at worst when it isn’t handled correctly. You can cut down an army with a sword, but you can also cut your whole-ass leg or arm off too with one too. Knowledge is dangerous and scary, be prepared.

In Chokmah, which is like your freeway getting you out onto the road out of  your hometown is VI The Lovers. 

These Lovers aren’t about romantic love as much as it is the ‘Love unites the divided.’ This is the ceremony part of the alchemical wedding or the announcement of the intention to dissolve duality. Coagula.

All inverse and adverse elements of the card are brought together under the blessing of the Initiator who is giving the sign of the enterer. This is to say he is blessing your entering into this union of your shadow and conscious self.

You have some work to do on making a more unified you. There are issues that once brought together and balanced make more sense. Bring opposites or aspects of yourself you’re not familiar with/comfortable with together in your life to make a more complete whole. Set intention to do this, maybe even formally.

In Binah, which is ruled by Saturn and for the sake of this reading we will call the first stop on your roadtrip. You haven’t really arrived anywhere but you’re stopping and getting a chance to repack your car in a more efficient way. Sitting in Binah is the Ace of Disks, the root power of Earth or the material. 

This is the foundation which all your solid structures are and will be built on. This is the very root of your real world/material life situation. While this doesn’t mean you must tear everything down or that there is nothing in your material world that you've built, it does mean you must look at the source from which you've built your material and everyday world. If you have no foundation you can have no structure. If you have a shoddy foundation, you'll have a shoddy structure. Look to what things were like  before you began building. Is there sand beneath you? Are you in a swamp, building castles of stone that will bind to the mud and be pulled down much sooner than later? Did you account for the raise in elevation when you laid your foundation? Look down to the base of what you've made and what you've made it upon.

This is an engineering job, you’ll need tools to measure and level everything out. The occult might not be the best place to find these tools and it is possible that you have issues much more base than you're willing to cop to. There are many tools you can use to look at your foundation provided in psychology and meditation from other sources. The Universe throws us extreme situations and more often than not, this is the only way people see their basest of instincts and behaviors really act out. If you can, take a look at what connects you and what you’re building to the Earth before an earthquake, tornado, volcano, or other act of G-D forces you to pray everything was fine. Check the strength of your foundations before the strength of your foundations are checked.

Get down to the base fundamentals of what is going on in your material (things, money, living situation, literal stuff) and build from the ground up if you must.

In Chesed which is ruled by Jupiter and again for the sake of this experiment we’ll say involves your influence and benevolence in your current trip is the 2 of Cups, Love. 

Like all the 2s the deuces of Water is building towards completion. This is the ever becomingness of love. Love never dies, it is simply transformed like any other energy. Love isn’t a competition or something you can measure. You never stop loving someone/thing because you have “reached maximum love levels”, shake hands and walk away from it. There is no end-game to love and that’s why it’s scary and makes people act like idiots sometimes. Astrologically,   Venus in Cancer can be interpreted as nurturing your emotional growth.

Build on what you’re feeling and don’t try to think about anything too concretely emotionally or intuitively. This is a building process so try not to focus on the final outcome but work with what you have now.

Across the Tree in Geburah, which is Mars Town, where you find your drive and what you’re trying to accomplish/conquer is the 7 of Swords, Futility.

This is the main thrust of the Will through the mind being thwarted by in helpful organization of ideas. Each sword with a planetary sigil are like the spikes in a parking garage, one way. It isn’t that the ideas or aspects represented by these swords are “bad” just that their placement and yours are not lined up in the best way right now. 

Mentally and communication wise pull back from what you’re going at and work on how you’re organizing the information in your head.

In Tiphareth, the Sun and center of gravity holding all this in place, the heart pumping the blood through this, your heart is the 5 of Cups Disappointment. 

Like all 5s this is the microcosmic and human part of its suit, in this case the human aspect of water, which is emotion, intuition and connectedness to life. Astrologically, this is Mars in Scorpio or emotional uncertainty making acting on your feelings difficult or at least obscured.

Everyone you’re in contact with, and everyone else is just a human with human limitations. Don’t overreach other people’s boundaries and be aware when they cross yours.  

There is also a frustration emotionally that you’re “stuck in the middle” of where you started and where you’d like to be feeling. That sucks, but, hey, like, we’re all just human. Just yourself and everyone else as much slack as you can for not being where you want them to be.

Don’t focus on your or others emotional limitations. Try to recognize why you are where/who you are emotionally and keep those waters flowing. You might not be quite where you want to be emotionally and in your relationships, but you’re making progress, in your way and time.

In Netzach, Venus town, where you have the realization about how this is going to change you as a person with a personality is X Fortune, Jupiter, Kaph. 

The “wheel of” Fortune is the rotating of things from confusing and/or destructive to beneficial. The gods Hanuman and Sobek to Crowley represented these ideas and the spinning ‘Wheel of Fortune, ol’ Fortuna is the constant motion of life and our experience stuck in it.. The Sphinx on top has waited through the turns patiently and meditatively and now It is on top again. 

Expand your influence through patience. It’s getting better just you wait.

In Mercury Town Hod-ville, where all the Universities are and everyone has real intellectual shit going on is (friend of the blog) XV The Devil OR The Lord of the Gates of Matter, Ayin, Capricorn. 

The Goat-Fish who is half in the mountains and half in the deeps of the oceans, high places and the deep. This guy gets a REALLY bad rap that is very unwarranted. All The Devil is trying to do is Incarnate or materialize by Higher methods.

The card is a giant cock with faceless little white people in the balls looking like they want out, again, possibility is trying to take hold and become a physical thing. The Devil IS a trickster (“you little devil” and assorted shit sayings like that) so that worries some people. Those people are squares and probably have bad taste in music.

Manifest your potential and figure it out when it’s “real” and not just a passing thought or whim.

On the Moon in Yesod, the receptive and reflective place that is alot about the feelings that you’re picking up from all this is the 3 of Swords, Sorrow. 

This is the first shape the suit of Air takes in 2 dimensions and it can be a bit disappointing. Your structure and order (Saturn) needs balancing (Libra) to be blunt. You must let go of your ideas of how things were going to be because now they are the way they are. Just because what you have isn’t what you thought you wanted doesn’t mean it’s not good.

Try to get your mind around what you’ve learned and and how to form it into a useful basis to move on from. Do not continue to focus on how you thought it “should be”, nothing is ever as pure or awesome as we idealize it. Sorting out your mind means actualizing some of the things you’ve been thinking about instead of not doing it because it isn’t perfect in the way we thought it would be.

Down here in Malkuth-istan, the everyday life mundane, waking up pooping, and going to work world is the 3 of Disks, Works or Work or Working.

Like all the 3s, this is the first formulation of the suit,  Earth or material world things. The 3 sided pyramid pictured on this Tarot card sits on water propelled by Dharma Wheels, spinning and causing waves. The drive and energy of the warrior Mars has become stubborn and resolute in the goat-fish Capricorn.

This idea of work is not mindless toil. This is doing the very necessary things in your life so you don’t fuck yourself over on the basic things everyone needs to survive. This is formulating the most simple workable “shape of things” that gets your at least basic needs met so you can expand and become more than basic.

Put together a simple way of dealing with the material world, something that can be expanded on. Keep your wheels turning even if they feel like they’re just spinning. Make waves, they’ll go further and affect more than you think!

So, to summarize, we’re going to need to start to rethink where we’re coming from, we can do that by bringing together those aspects of ourselves that we don’t like or don’t want to deal with but nonetheless ARE us! We cannot escape our shadow and here it will actually serve your purposes, seek to make yourself whole by allowing all of yourself to be present. This process will bring us to a grounding that will show us our foundation we have built upon. Getting back to the very basics of how we exist in this Earth World and interact with it will allow radical self-acceptance and self-love that is the very best foundation to build on!

Speaking of Love, Love is a process, a never ending moving toward, reconciling even. Acting from the love of connecting, the love of being alive and interacting with every other living thing will bring those things you wish to influence into focus. Like a wise man once said (my dearly departed roommate and very good friend Evan aka SPESH 1) “Love is a lot like farting. If you have to force it, it’s probably shit.” If you feel like the things in your life that you need to use to your advantage are pushing back and blocking your progress, it’s time to back off and find a new way to engage with them. This is finding the path of least resistance that allows your mind to flow, not get caught in the mire of details and fuckery that hold you back. And in your heart, know that you and every other person is just that, a person. A human with flaws, limitations, and boundaries. These are what make us human and to acknowledge that is to deal with it realistically and not get disappointed because of them.

Your personal growth, your process of growing into yourself is about to hit that upswing where your patience will pay off and Fortune will smile on you and say, “Here you go” and off you will go, indeed in the direction you wish and need to go. This will allow you to make manifest those ideas that have existed inside of you, desperately trying to get out and into the world! While those ideas may seem different “on paper” than they did in your head, they are out there and in the world, helping you formulate them and use them to accomplish the Work you need to be doing! 

I won’t try to fool you and you shouldn’t try to fool yourself either, this WILL be WORK. It is good and worthwhile Work though. It is formulating those things we talked about above into real things that will get the “job done” and allow you to then complete the tasks at hand! 

Ta Da! Hit me up with any questions, comments, concerns, clarifications, or Qabalistic inquiries!

-Frater N0vght

[winchester-with-wings]

Chemical Reactions (Part 23)

Series Summary: Being a teacher at Central City Academy doesn’t leave much time for a personal life. You didn’t really notice or care…that is until the day the new substitute science teacher, Barry Allen makes an appearance.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Part 23 Summary: The decision has been made. Time Jump...

Pairing: Barry Allen x Reader, Substitute Teacher!Barry Allen x Teacher!Reader

Word Count: 1500ish

A/N: Thank you to my amazing friend and beta @thinkwritexpress-official!! Hope ya’ll like it! I’m about to have a stressful day at work so please give me something to look forward to! :( *i don’t own gifs*

Please let me know what you guys think of the story! Send me asks!

Mobile Masterlist

This was posted a few days agao on my Patreon! Wanna get previews, early access and make requests? Become a Patron! Can’t become a patron? please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi (Tips are appreciated!)

The school year at CCA had ended with the expectation that Barry would continue on as full-time faculty.

Your secret relationship had ended the day Dr. Stein demanded an answer.

Barry maintains that your eyes were red and puffy from crying that day in his office. You’d had a substitute teacher scheduled too.

At the end of the school year, Barry bid his students goodbye and well wishes for the summer, all except Patty. Barry had been tempted to flunk her out of resentment. That would’ve meant that she wouldn’t graduate though, so he gave her the grade she’d earned solely off her scores.

Barry had also attended the graduation ceremony but only to see his brother Wally walk and get his diploma. Standing in the crowd with Joe and Iris beside him, Barry couldn’t help but look for you as well. Iris found you and called you over. You’d politely declined.

That’s how Joe and Iris found out about the break-up.

And Barry hasn’t seen you since that day.

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

2 Months Later…

“Wally, have you finished packing?” Joe asks the recent graduate.

“I was actually thinking that maybe I could stay here while I go to school?”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to get off your butt,” Joe grumbles, playfully pushing on Wally’s head as he walks past. Wally is sitting sideways with his legs hanging over the armrest of Joe’s favorite chair in the living room.

“I’m keeping Barry company.”

The two men’s gazes drift across the room to rest on Barry, laying back on the couch in a hoodie while holding the remote in his hand. He barely registers the conversation, keeping his eyes on the TV, but is he even watching it? It’s Star Wars, but it’s the prequel trilogy, should he really be watching this? It doesn’t matter. On commercials, Barry flips between other channels but always comes back to Star Wars.

“Don’t enable him, Wally, and don’t use him as an excuse,” Iris scolds him, walking into the room and setting down her purse. She takes the remote from Barry’s hand and turns off the tv.

“...heyyy…” comes Barry’s delayed reaction. Iris hands the remote to Joe and then pushes back Barry’s hood to play with his hair. She kisses the top of his head but comes away frowning.

“Oh boy, you need to shower,” she tells him. Barry just grunts in response. Iris has seen Barry through past breakups but never like this. “Barr, I’m making your favorite meal tonight. The least you could do is smell better...and change out of those sweats. Now get going,” Iris pats him on the shoulder as he sits up, slumping forward. “And you,” she points at Wally. “I want you to go pack at least two boxes.”

“Dad, can’t I please stay here?” Wally looks up at Joe.

“We’ll talk about it,” Joe responds but his eyes don’t leave Barry. His heart breaks for his son, seeing him like this. Barry has heard him even say so in hushed whispers with Iris.

At dinner, Barry picks at the food, even though Joe did most of the cooking. Which is lucky. That means the food is actually really good. But Barry just can’t bring himself to eat.

“Have you given any thoughts to my offer, Barry?” Joe says.

“Hmm? What?” He looks up. Barry’s hair still looks a bit damp and he’s wearing a fresh t-shirt and jeans.

“I said, Captain Singh has been pleased with your work this summer. He and I thought you might like some more part-time work at the department?”

“Oh, that’s a great idea Dad!” Iris agrees. “It would keep you busy during the school breaks.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. It’s been good. I just need to think about it some more.”

“Okay, well don’t think too long. The summer is already half over,” Joe mumbles as he turns his focus back to his food.

“May I be excused?” Barry asks a few minutes later, his plate still plenty full. “Thank you for the meal but I’m just not feeling very good. Think I need to lie down for a bit.”

“Sure, sweetie. I’ll wrap this up for you if you want it later,” Iris says, rubbing Barry’s back before he gets up from the table. He goes back to the couch and lays down.

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

Eventually, the hunger pangs become too much. He attributes his headache to hunger too but he knows better. Barry reheats some of the food but it doesn’t hit the spot. It’s about 8 o’clock so he decides to go for a walk, maybe go to Jitters.

He finds himself walking in downtown Central City, listening to music with that same old hoodie on. Maybe he should go for a run to get his blood pumping, to lift his spirits. He starts with a gentle jog, focusing on the ground beneath his feet with every step, noticing the faint smell of rain in the air.

He jogs until the burning in his lungs is enough to distract him from the other pain in his chest. But he finally has to come to a stop to catch his breath. He’s resting his hands on his knees, breathing deeply. He takes out his headphones and pushes back the hood which has fallen over his brow. When he notices where he is--he winces--not because of where he is of course, no, it’s because of the running, right? It couldn’t possibly be that he’s inadvertently run into Y/N’s neighborhood, right? He was running for Jitters and that’s just a few blocks down. That’s all, right?

He heads in the direction of Jitters, trying his hardest to not look at your apartment building. Is the light on? He wouldn’t know. But he does know. He knows it’s not on. You’re not home.

Because you’re walking down the street right now. Arm in arm with another man.

Barry’s heart skips a beat and it stops him in his tracks. He shuffles his feet quickly with the intent to cross the street. But then you look up in the midst of laughing, and you stop.

It’s too late for Barry to walk, or rather run away.

“Barry? Hey,” you smile, tender and perhaps a bit sad. Or maybe Barry is only imagining it. He looks up and notices that you’ve just exited a restaurant with this man. His knuckles are white and his face is burning with jealousy. “Looks like you’re out for a run? It’s good to see you.”

“Hey, Y/N,” Barry finds his voice. “It’s uh--good to see you too. Oh and yeah, I haven’t been sleeping well lately.” The two of you know enough to guess why. “Figured a jog would help. Was just heading to Jitters. ”

“Oh, that’s nice. Not sure a coffee will help with the sleep problem though,” you giggle and Barry fights down a smile. Damn, he’s missed your laugh. He misses your smile and the way your eyes always betrayed your feelings. He misses the feel of your skin on his, the touch of your hand on his face. He looks you up and down, drinking in your figure. You’re wearing a new dress. He’d never seen you wear it before. What was the occasion? “Oh, where are my manners? Barry, I’d like you to meet Julian Albert. Julian, this is Barry Allen. We work together at CCA.”

“I’m also her ex-boyfriend,” Barry wants to add but he doesn’t.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Allen,” he says with a british accent. He’s is shorter than Barry and has blonde hair and blue eyes. He extends his hand and Barry shakes it, perhaps a little stronger than necessary.

“Nice to meet you. You guys just have dinner?” Barry asks, playing nonchalant and gesturing to the restaurant.

“Yes, we did. It was marvelous. Have you been there?”

“No not yet. Always planned to take my girlfriend there though,” Barry says. Seeing the flutter of your lashes and the hurt in your eyes, it makes him feel a bit better. Are you in as much pain as him or have you truly moved on?

“Ah, well. We would highly recommend it, right Darling?” Julian looks at you. He’s oblivious to your hesitation but you nod eventually. “And you work with Y/N? What subject do you teach?”

“Chemistry and forensic science.”

“I teach the kids while Barry teaches teenagers.” like Patty, Barry assumes your implication.

“Oh wow, fascinating. I’ve dabbled with crime scene investigation before as well.”

“Julian’s an archaeologist,” you add. Barry feigns interest, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh wow! That’s gotta be fun, playing in the dirt, right?”

“That’s an oversimplification actually,” Julian comments, although he seems to understand that it was a joke.

“Well we should probably get going. I have somewhere to be in the morning so I don’t want to stay out much later,” you make an excuse, saving everyone from this encounter.

“Oh, of course, love. I’d be happy to walk you home. It was nice meeting you, Barry.” Julian smiles, completely oblivious.

“Wish I could say the same,” Barry says the words with a grimace before he can catch himself. You stare at him, shocked, your mouth hanging open. He doesn’t give either of you a chance to respond before he starts jogging again.

tagging: @autoblocked @book-loving--anime-chick @abbessolute @karazoiel @overlyobsethed @therealcap @whoopxd @bookworm4ever99 @geeksareunique @potterwolf16 @frankie2902 @fabinapercabeth4179 @yessoftball-lover06 @blckthrns @barry-writes @ravenhaviland @clockblobber @iammsamy @softdudebro @parkerschurros @stuttering-psychopath @woaahkelsey @montytheravenclaw @sanya-gryff @smutfornerds

[eclecticminded]

Don’t Forget

Darling @glimmerglittergirl here is your request for winning the giveaway! Thank you for your patience! I hope you enjoy!

It’s your anniversary with Nevada and he wants it to be special.

Warnings: Alcohol. Food. Sex. Knife mention. Minor injury.

Tags: @southsiderepresent @glimmerglittergirl @madpanda75  @southern-magnolia @katmstanton @esparza-army @sweetsummertime99  @obfuscateyummy @lifeisbetterwithbarba  @lyssa1385  @hux-me-up   @bowieisawizard @sleepylunarwolf @mrsrafaelbarba anyone else ask! Also I have a Kofi (link in blog description) if anyone wants to donate! 

Word Count: 2,032

“Loca,” Nevada hollered from the kitchen, you barely heard him over the shower.

 “Whaaat,” your response was muffled so he stomped across the apartment and threw the bathroom door open.

 “Nevada! What the fuck,” you pulled the shower curtain back so you could see him but kept your body hidden.

 “What’re you hiding for, I’ve seen you naked plenty,” he ripped the curtain back and eyed you up and down.

 “What do you want Vada,” you crossed your arms and shivered from the cold air.

 “Why is there a giant heart on my calendar,” he tapped on a day the following week and you rolled your eyes.

 “It’s our anniversary asshole,” you resumed showering, “Didn’t want you to forget again.”

 “I forget one time and never hear the end of it,” he grunted, frustrated at himself even years later.

 “Well if I didn’t remind you,” you sighed and calmed yourself, “you’d forget. You’re a busy man.”

 “Is that really what you think of me,” Nevada’s shoulders slumped and he let himself be soft, something he only did at home.

 “No mi amor,” you rinsed the last of the soap from your hair, “I just know you’re busy and in demand. I remind you so neither of us will be upset again.”

 “Sounds like you don’t have faith in me to remember,” he held the towel up and helped you out after you turned the water off.

 “I have faith in you,” you stood still while he toweled you dry, it was one of the things that calmed him; taking care of you.

 “But,” he looked up at you knowingly.

 “But I know you get busy and things happen,” you ran your fingers through his hair.

 “I’m not gonna forget y/n,” Nevada pecked your lips, “Just don’t write it on my work calendar, huh?”

 “Deal,” you nodded seriously and Nevada swatted your ass when you walked by to get ready for work.

 The following Thursday was your anniversary and Nevada made it his goal to prove to you he could remember on his own. You had woken up early to make him breakfast, but knowing you so well, he got up even earlier and made you pancakes and eggs. And not just any pancakes, pancakes with blueberries and chocolate chips. He thought they were disgusting, but you loved them so he made them for you.

 The two of you spent the start of the morning in bed eating breakfast and making out. While you showered Nevada cleaned up the dishes then ate you out before you headed off to work. He made you promise to come straight home, that you’d be picked up promptly at six and you had to be on time getting off. With a lingering kissed you promised and rushed off.

 At work there were black and blood red roses delivered already on your desk with a poem attached that made your heart swoon. As if he was watching, just when you decided to take lunch Nevada showed up with food. You scarfed it down and dragged him out to the SUV you knew was parked in the garage. His men were sent on a walk and you spent the majority of your lunch hour blowing him.

 At exactly six on the nose you climbed into the waiting SVU and Nevada was already there, although his appearance confused you. You assumed he’d be dressed up for a fancy date, and instead he was in jeans and a hoodie. Nevada didn’t wear jeans and hoodies.

 “What’re you dressed like that for,” you scrunched your nose up then licked your lips, “Not that I don’t appreciate it. You look damn good dressed up, and you look damn good dressed down too.”

 “It’s a surprise,” he shrugged and started kissing you. In fact you got so lost in the kiss, you didn’t notice you weren’t heading home. You didn’t notice anything was afoot until you got out of the vehicle and it wasn’t home.

 “Nevada, where the fuck are we,” you were confused and little afraid of the dark parking lot.

 “The airport loca,” Nevada rolled his eyes and took two suitcases from the men before guiding you to a private hangar.

 “Why are we at the airport,” you followed him through a brief security check point and watched as strangers walked away with the bags.  

 “A vacation for our anniversary,” he chuckled, “Are you surprised?”

 “I have work Vada,” your heart dropped, you didn’t want to miss this.

 “Talked to your boss while I was there,” he shrugged, “You’re off for a week while we go somewhere nice.

 “Really!? That grouchy old man agreed to it,” you leaped into Nevada’s arms and he spun you around while you both giggled.

 “I didn’t give him much choice,” he kissed your neck and led you onto the private plane.

 “How’d you swing this,” you jumped from seat to seat to find your favorite one.

 “Pulled in some favors,” Nevada rifled through a bag he’d kept with him and through some soft clothes at you, “Change before takeoff.”

 “Right here,” you started undoing your shirt and winking.

 “If you want to put on a show then by all means,” he motioned to the stewardesses and pilots chatting near the cockpit.

 “On second thought,” you blushed and changed in the slightly larger than normal bathroom. Upon emerging, you took the seat closest to Nevada and he buckled you in.

 “I packed your clothes and other stuff,” Nevada took your hand and kissed it, “Anything else we need I’ll buy.”

 “Where are we going,” you pouted.

 “Somewhere warm,” he quitted you while the plane took off and watched you as you stared out the window in amazement.

 “Refreshments,” the stewardess brought over two glasses of Champaign and a bowl of fresh strawberries once you were airborne.

 “Thank you,” you accepted wide eyed and sipped, “Oh! I have your present!”

 “You got me a present,” Nevada watched as you dug through your purse and triumphantly pulled a small wrapped box out.

 “I did! Open it! Open it,” you bounced in place and finished off your drink, which was quickly replaced with another.

 “Let’s see what we have,” he opened the box painfully slow knowing it aggravated you, “Oh my god. Mi reina, you shouldn’t have!”

 “But I did,” you smiled and watched him excitedly look over the spoils in the box. First he pulled on the cross necklace, it had your anniversary engraved on the back. The cigar cutter was just as fancy and also engraved.

 “The cross I get,” he tapped the one around your neck that used to be his, “But the cigar cutter? Is it because of…?”

 “It’s for two reasons. One, that one is for home. No more bloody cigar cutters in the house yeah? And two, it’s to remind you I have used one to cut a guy’s finger off,” you batted your eyes innocently.

 “Yeah well I’ve never kidnapped you have I,” Nevada teased, “Well…not like that.”

 “No not like that,” you winked and climbed into his lap, “And the necklace is a secret tiny knife!”

 “What? How,” he stared as you turned the base and pulled down, a small blade coming out.

 “It’s small but very sharp,” you poked yourself and winced.

 “Your present is two parts too,” he took the blade and sheathed it, then kissed the small wound.

 “You mean something other than this amazing trip,” you ground down onto him and he momentarily lost his train of thought.

 “The trip is part one,” he gripped your hips to slow your grinding, “Part two is this trip is for us to get married.”

 “Nevada,” you snapped but softened when you saw him playing with the ring on your finger, “I have been planning this wedding for six months! Our family and friends—“

 “And it’s stressing you out! So that’s why I think we should run away and elope. Have a small ceremony for us,” he raced his hands up and down your back, “Then still have the big ceremony. I think it will take the pressure off.”

 “Ya know,” you relaxed against him, “I think you’re right.”

 “I’m always right,” he puffed his chest out.

 “Don’t push it Vada,” you poked him dead in the center of his chest.

 “Ladies,” Nevada called to the stewardess as he stood up, you tight in his arms, “We’ll need that privacy now.”

 “Of course Mr. Ramirez,” they pulled a curtain shut and you saw them slipping headphones on.

 “I need to taste you again,” Nevada dropped you where he’d been sitting and you bounced.  He immediately fell to his knees and shimmied you out of the leggings and panties you wore.  His mouth was on your core in mere seconds, flicking and sucking the bundle of nerves. Your whole body shuddered as your hips flew upwards when his fingers plunged in. Whimpers and moans filled the cabin as he drew two long orgasms out of you.

 “Your turn,” you panted and reached for him.

 “Tsk tsk,” he shook his head, “Good girls ask.”

 “Can I suck your cock papi,” you pouted.

 “I don’t think you want it,” he undid his pants and let them drop to his ankles, pumping himself,

 “Please please let me suck your cock! Please,” your lip quivered and that satisfied him.  With a foot perched on the arm rest, he fed himself into your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks and braced yourself as he fucked your face. Tears streamed down your cheeks and drool fell onto your shirt as you gagged on him. It was what he liked, it was what you liked doing. When the familiar eye flutter of light headedness stared, Nevada pulled out and let you catch your breath.

 “Damn girl,” he wiped the sweat from his forehead and chugged his forgotten Champaign.

 “Fuck me Nevada,” your eyes darkened, “Fuck me one last time as your fiancée. The next time you’ll be inside me it’ll be as my husband.”

 “Fuck yes,” Nevada growled and pulled you up from the seat. You twisted and he pushed you down to bend over, bracing yourself with the cushion. The head of his cock traced from your clit to your entrance, running through your lips before he slammed into you. The first few pumps were hard and full of fire, but he slowed and a different kind of passion filled the moment. Tenderly he made love to you, peppering your back with nips and kisses.

 Nevada pulled you to standing with an arm around your waist; you braced yourself against the top of the seat now. Turning your head to the side, you kissed Nevada while he filled you up. The slow burn built in your stomach and you cried out his name in ecstasy. He soon followed, cumming deep inside of you.

 “Welcome to the mile high club,” he chuckled as you both redressed.

 “Who says I wasn’t already a member,” you cocked an eyebrow and pressed the call bottom.

 “What does that mean,” his jaw dropped.

 “Two waters please,” you smiled at the stewardess and turned back to Nevada, “What makes you think you were by first airplane fuck?”

 “I uh..well I just figured…” Nevada was cute when he was flustered.

 “Listen Vada,” you thanked the stewardess for the water and she left, “I’ve given blow jobs on airplanes, but never have I fucked or cum on a plane. So I guess I got full membership today.”

 “You are something else,” he rolled his eyes, “Why don’t we eat, take a little nap, and then fuck some more?”

 “How long is this flight,” you looked from him to the stewardess bringing over dinner plates.

 “As long as it is,” he shrugged.

 “You’re really not gonna tell me,” you huffed,

 “Nope,” he smirked, “Now eat your food.”

 “Whatever Vada,” you picked up your fork, “But it better be worth it.”

 “You’re worth it,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

 “You’re worth it,” you kissed his knuckles and pressed as close to him as you could while you ate. Within eighteen hours he would be your husband and you’d be fucking on a private beach in Hawaii.

[paralleljulieverse]

Westward, Ho: Star! premieres in Hollywood, USA

The week after Star!’s gala debut in New York, the film continued its sea-to-shining-sea North American roll-out with a West Coast Premiere on 31 October 1968. Held at the historic Fox Wilshire theatre in Beverly Hills, the West Coast premiere had all the hoopla and razzmatazz of an old-school Hollywood opening. Arc lights swept the night skies, a brigade of crisply uniformed ushers stood honour guard, and gleaming black limousines ferried a host of Tinseltown movers-and-shakers to the red carpet entrance of the art deco picture palace. Crowds of fans and onlookers jostled in cordoned viewing areas as Army Archerd and a young Regis Philbin interviewed notable arrivals on the media dais, highlights of which were later telecast on The Joey Bishop Show.*

By this stage, Julie was back in Hollywood wrapping up filming for Darling Lili so, happily, this was one premiere she could attend. Accompanied by Blake Edwards –– quaintly described in the press as her “gentleman friend” (Fay: IV-1) –– Julie looked every inch the grand Hollywood star in the eye-catching designer outfit she’d had made, but never got the chance to wear, for the London opening: a sleeveless gown of pleated ivory linen with contrasting coffee panels and matching pleated linen stole. “[P]leated linen doesn’t crush,” explained Julie –– showing that, beneath the haute couture glamour, she’d lost little of her no-nonsense English pragmatism –– “That’s important when you have to think of photographers” (Lambert: 8). And photographers were, indeed, out in full force. Because the premiere marked one of Julie’s first public outings since returning to the US, she could barely move all night “without a cordon of photographers with cameras at ready” (Fay: IV-1). 

Organised as a benefit for the American Cancer Society, tickets for the West Coast premiere sold at $100.00 a head, with an additional $50 per couple for the after-show supper (Fay: IV-1). There was no shortage of well-heeled takers with the capacity audience of 2500 first-nighters reading like a glittering honour roll of both Old and New Hollywood: Edward G. Robinson, Rudy Vallee, Myrna Loy, Gregory Peck, Buddy Ebsen, Agnes Moorehead, Buddy Rogers, George Burns, Marge and Gower Champion, Jerry Lewis, Pat Boone, Eva Gabor, Ann-Margret, Phyllis Diller, Raquel Welch, Nancy Sinatra, Charles Bronson, Tom Selleck and many more. There was also a strong show of support from Julie’s own circle of celebrity friends and associates: Carol Burnett, Ross Hunter, Roddy McDowall, Henry Mancini, Edward Mulhare, and Charmian Carr (Fay: IV-1; Kay: 25; “Premiere of ‘Star’ Set Tonight”: IV-16). 

Sprinkled among the celebrity-packed audience were some fortunate members of the general public. Two anonymous film industry benefactors bought out blocks of seats in the upper balcony and “distributed the tickets to…medical and theatre arts students from USC and UCLA” (Fay: IV-1). While the Gesh Agency purchased another block of tickets for donation to servicemen on furlough from the war in Vietnam (ibid.). Not sure how enthused red-blooded GIs would have been by a Julie Andrews screen musical but, hey, it was a free night out!

One surprise member of the audience who was thrilled beyond belief was Jan Versaw, a teenage Julie Andrews superfan from Contra Costa county in Northern California. Versaw, who had reportedly seen The Sound of Music 23 times, made the journey down to Los Angeles with the express hope of meeting her idol at the premiere. She even lugged along her 23-pound (10.5 kg) Julie Andrews scrapbook! The eager fan rocked up to the Fox Wilshire theatre at 4:30a.m. –– “I thought it would be crowded like the Rose Parade,” she explained –– and huddled, waif-like, under the marquee with her scrapbook. She first got the attention of the janitor, then the theatre manager, then a Fox PR rep and, finally, later that night, she got to meet Julie herself. Not only that, but Julie invited her in to see the film. “It’s unbelievable!”, cried the starstruck young woman (Fiset: 21; “Happened Like”: B4).

Press reports relate that the first night audience gave Star! a thunderous standing ovation. Following the screening, a fleet of buses was on hand to chauffeur 700 VIP guests to the after-show Supper Ball at Twentieth Century-Fox Studios. Driving through the backlot sets erected for Hello, Dolly!, Fox’s next big roadshow musical with an exclamation mark, partygoers were delivered to the doors of the studio’s massive Stage 21 which had been done up especially for a dazzling Star!-themed ball:

“[D]ebarking passengers stepped into an exact replica of the foyer of Gertrude Lawrence’s New York apartment. Behind this was the huge ballroom, carpeted (except for the dance floor), completely draped and lighted by a dozen or more blazing crystal chandeliers. Here at tables entered with masses of yellow and white flowers in tall epergenes, they ate a midnight supper…catered by Chasen’s [and] danced to the music of Peter Duchin and his band, flown in from New York” (Kay: 25). 

Described as “probably the smoothest-paced premiere in history,” the evening was deemed a glorious success, netting a whopping $143,000 for the Cancer Society (Kay: 24). 

Any morning-after headaches at the studio would have been somewhat eased by the West Coast reviews of the film which were markedly better than the preceding week’s notices from New York. In fact, James Bacon of the Los Angeles Herald-Examiner used his review to take direct aim at the film’s vituperative East Coast pans:

“Let me give it to you straight. I’m an unusual type critic. I’m a sucker for good entertainment. And ‘Star!’ which premiered the other night at the Fox Wilshire is loaded with it. It’s a tour de force for Julie Andrews…I have read most of the other reviews from New York, where writers lamented the absence of deep neurotic conflicts in the autobiography of Gertrude Lawrence. And after seeing the movie so forewarned, I came away convinced…that most professional critics don’t really like to be entertained. ‘Star!’ is the type of picture no one will like but the public. It will not make as much money as ‘Sound of Music’ but it will come close” (Bacon: D6).

The trades all gave very positive notices, homing in on –– and, possibly, talking up –– the film’s potential for commercial success. Film Daily wrote:

“The production has the built-in ingredients that assure assure mass audience appeal. Sometimes the entertainment is brilliant, occasionally overwhelming and in moments uncertain and becalmed….The versatility of Miss Andrews is as remarkable as her personality is endearing…[She] rac[es] through a series of songs and production numbers like an exuberant flame” (Herbstman: 3).

BoxOffice declared it “a veritable entertainment goldmine…that is almost monumental in its scope and detail”:

“And riding above it all, never once over-shadowed by the globe-spanning locations, is the phenomenal Julie Andrews, now truly the Queen of the Roadshows. In its way, ‘Star!’ is as much a tribute to her as it is a musical biography of Gertrude Lawrence. It’s a new Julie Andrews that audiences will be responding to. As Gertrude Lawrence she conveys a three-dimensional character, not entirely sympathetic, but a woman of ambition and drive, fired by her own ego and able to trade racy epithets with as much ease as she changes her lovers. It’s a spectacular performance that will surprise and please her many fans, and quite possibly bring a whole new legion of admirers into her camp. She is the ultimate attraction here, and she carries the film like a quarterback breaking out for a touchdown” (Verrill: 11).

Variety had already reviewed the film upon its earlier London release offering warm, if slightly reserved, praise:

“Like many hardticket pix it’s overlong at 165 minutes…and occasionally sags between musical numbers but, springing from William Fairchild’s witty and knowledgeable screenplay, the cast and team of redoubtable technical contributors have helped to turn out a pleasing tribute to one of the theatre’s most admired stars…‘Star!’, filmed in Todd-AO and marking the first reunion of Miss Andrews and Wise since their fantastically successful ‘Sound of Music’ should, with Miss Andrews’ marquee magnetism, cause plenty sweet music at the box-office all over again” (‘Rich.’: 6).

Possibly the most muted, but also most reasoned, Hollywood review came from Charles Champlin of the Los Angeles Times:

“No movie about Gertrude Lawrence with Julie Andrews can be all bad, but ‘Star!’ which opened with great ceremony on Wednesday night…is not all good either…It is, as they always say in the ads, lavishly mounted. It offers full musical value for the money, and…Miss Andrews, as ever was, is clear-voiced and full of warmth….Yet for all these positive attributes and the obvious loving care with which the whole project was put together, ‘Star!’ at its best is merely pleasant and not for a single moment really magical…[T]he result, despite nice arrangements, crisp staging by Michael Kidd, a tuneful period, rich costumes and rich sets, is not a bad musical but a disappointing one which should have amounted to much, much more” (Champlin: IV-1, 17). 

As in New York, business for Star!’s second US engagement started with a robust flourish. In its first week at the Fox Wilshire, the film took $45,000 in what Variety described as a “loud start” (“Hardticketers”: 9). However, again like New York, ticket sales quickly slumped with the weekly updates of grosses reading like a veritable cartoon graph nosedive:

Week 1: $45,000 Week 2: $29,000 Week 3: $25,000 Week 4: $21,000 Week 5: $18,000 Week 6: $16,000

Come Week 10, grosses had dipped below $10,000 and, by Week 15, they were under $5,000. In its 20th and final week at the Fox Wilshire, Star! took what Variety called a “drab $3,000″ (“L.A. Perking Up”: 9). By point of comparison, other roadshow musicals screening in the L.A. area that week were all doing very brisk business. Funny Girl, which was in its 24th week of release at the Egyptian, grossed $29,000 and Oliver! raked in $27,500 in its 14th Week at the Beverly. Even the poorly received Chitty Chitty Bang Bang managed to outperform Star! with $12,000 in its 14th week at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre (ibid.).

It was a scenario being repeated across the country at almost all the film’s North American roadshow engagements. To say the poor returns from Star! caused concern back at Fox would be an understatement. Studio execs went into a tailspin of their own and would embark on a series of increasingly desperate –– and desperately ill-judged –– salvage attempts. But that, as they say, is a tale for another time…

Notes:

* Some commentators have claimed that the West Coast premiere of Star! was dismally under-attended. Richard Stirling (2007) writes, “There was not a soul in sight” (211), using as putative evidence two comments taken out of context from Robert Wise and Jan Versaw, the teenage super-fan mentioned in the body of this post. Matthew Kennedy (2014) –– who lists Stirling as a primary reference and was likely just recycling the former’s dubious research –– also asserts, “Few others bothered to attend [the premiere], including fans” (154). The claim is simply untrue. Press reports, photos and television coverage of the premiere reveal that, not only was the audience filled to capacity, there were several hundred spectators grouped outside. Not exactly Beatlemania, but neither was it ‘tumbleweeds blowing down Wilshire Blvd’ as suggested by these sensationalist misrepresentations.

Sources:

Bacon, James. “Julie’s ‘Star’ Elegant Entertainment.” Los Angeles Herald-Examiner. 4 November 1968: D6.

Champlin, Charles. “Movie Review: ‘Star!’ Depicts Life of Noted Actress.” Los Angeles Times. 1 November 1968: IV-1, 17.

Fay, Sharon E. ‘Star!’ Premieres in Name of Charity.” Los Angeles Times. 17 September 1968: IV-1, 20.

Fiset, Bill. “The Lost Veneration.” Oakland Tribune. 15 November 1968: 21.

“Happened Like in Movies.” San Bernadino County Sun. 2 November 1968: B4.

“Hardticketers Help L.A. ‘Star’ Loud $45,000.” Variety. 6 November 1968: 9.

Herbstman, Mandel. “Review of New Film: STAR!” Film and Television Daily. 23 October 1968: 3.

Kay, Frances R. “Stars Shine at Premiere.” Valley News. 5 November 1968: 24-25.

Kennedy, Matthew. Roadshow!: The Fall of Film Musicals in the 1960s. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013.

Lambert, Eleanor. “Writer Finds A Lot Can Happen Between Julie’s Dress Fittings.” The Dispatch. 18 July 1968: 8.

“L.A. Perking Up.” Variety. 26 March 1969: 9.

“Premiere of ‘Star’ Will Benefit Cancer Society.” Los Angeles Times. 17 August 1968: III-8.

“Premiere of ‘Star’ Set Tonight.” Los Angeles Times. 31 October 1968: IV-16.

‘Rich.’ “Film Review: Star.” Variety. 24 July 1968: 6.

Stirling, Richard. Julie Andrews: An Intimate Biography. London: Portrait, 2007.

Verill, Addison. “Feature Review: ‘Star!’” BoxOffice. 28 October 1968: 11.

Copyright © Brett Farmer 2018

[osmw1]

Poison-Wielding Fugitive   Chapter 29

“I wonder if they had been swarmed by monsters…”

That was anticlimactic. It’s even a little too quiet.

“Perhaps they barely made it out of the dungeon with their lives, escaping a monster they couldn’t win against.” ‘That is reasonable.’ “Are there monsters that strong in the dungeon?” “Umm… as far as I know, no. Then again… the miasma is quite thick, so you would have to be quite skilled to adventure be here.”

Sounds about right. Since I have Poison Absorption, I never really paid it much attention. But judging from Arleaf, it seems like the deeper you go, the more toxic it gets. It’d probably be hard for us get any farther. Though it may be convenient for me since I get constantly healed, it would probably be more efficient for us to consider fighting somewhere else since we have Arleaf with us.

“Then before we get swept up by anything unnecessary, let’s head back.” “Muu?” “I think so too. It would probably be evening by the time we return. I could drop by the church as well.” “Alright, let’s get going then.”

With that, we trace our path and return from the entrance of the dungeon and go back to the village.

  As soon as we stepped foot into the village, Arleaf calls out to me.

“Let’s go to the church.” “Yeah, alright.”

Would it be alright though, Veno?

‘It should pose no problem if thou art simply going to spectate. If anything suspicious happens, I shall warn thee.’

Gotcha. And so, to the church we went. It’s quite like what I expected out of a game. As expected, their symbol isn’t a cross. What is that? It’s like a heart wrapped in thorns. And having seen how Arleaf’s family prayed, it doesn’t seem like this village is affiliated with my enemy’s religion…

‘Do not drop thy guard. I, too, shall be vigilant.’

Arleaf leads me inside. Hmm… it feels very holy in here. It’s not unlike the feeling you get when visiting Shinto shrines. The evening sun peeks through the stained-glass windows, like something out of a fairy-tale.

“Good evening, Father.” “Good evening, Arleaf.”

The man dressed like a priest looks up from his book as Arleaf greets him.

“This is… I have heard of you, Cohgray, the Poison Eater. I give you my sincere thanks for saving our village.” “Uhh, umm, that nickname…” “Yes, the rumors say that you are quite the monster to not only put your life on the line to try, but to finish everything on your plate. Of course, the rumors come from…”

You can see the veins bulging from Arleaf’s forehead. She has a smile on her face, and likely, it would be the same smile she’ll give to her father once she gets home. Didn’t my nickname change rather quickly?

‘It must be the case that the young girl’s cooking is infamous.’

How awful.

“Now that introductions are out of the way, is there something you needed from the church?” “Yes. I was hoping to change jobs.” “I have heard talk of it. You wish to be stronger to help the adventurer Cohgray.” “That’s right. Yukihisa and I were out hunting earlier today, and I believe I know what to expect in the future. Father, would you help me with the job change ceremony?” “… is that right? I understand. Since Mr. Cohgray is the savior of our village, I would like to lend all my powers to him too. Normally, I would ask for a donation, but I shall waive it this time.”

Oh? How nice that she gets to change jobs for free. Huh… didn’t know it costed anything though.

‘It seems so. Well… in thy case, we used the altar in the dungeon, thus it was free of charge.’

I guess what we should’ve done was come here, but we borrowed the altar without permission. It might be dangerous for Muu and I to do so, but Arleaf’s an outsider… so I’m sure she’s fine.

“Then let us proceed with the ceremony. This way, Arleaf.”

Arleaf goes before the church’s altar… oh, there’s a stone statue of a dragon on it. It looks kinda similar to the one at the dungeon, doesn’t it?

‘The apothecaries had prayed to the Holy Dragon before their meal as well. It seems like this is that dragon. If it is related to dragons, it may be easy for me to interfere.’ “Clasp your hands together in front of the statue and pray. Then, with a calm mind…”

Just like how we did, Arleaf stands in front of the altar and… oh, she’s not touching it. She’s praying. As she does so, a magic circle lights up at her feet. Hmm? The light is slowly extending towards me?!

‘Hmm?’

Is this fine? Being detected would be dangerous, wouldn’t it be?

‘Let us see… hmm, I think you need not worry. I believe it is because she has a mentor nearby and thus affecting her class change.’

Huh? Uhh, so does that mean… Arleaf gets to be a Poison-Wielder too? Unlike with Muu, I can’t see her options or choose for her, so this is a little worrying. As soon as I thought so, Arleaf turns around with a puzzled look on her face.

“Umm… there’s a new class called Thaumaturge available…”

She calls out with a ‘What should I do?’ kind of tone. I quizzically look over to the priest.

“It is not a class that I would recommend… but at your current level, Arleaf, you should not be able to choose it though. I am sure that this class exists, but…”

The priest brings out a book that was tucked away near the altar and begins flipping through the pages. I nonchalantly get closer to Arleaf to speak to her in secret.

“Maybe this is happening because I’m nearby?” “Perhaps so…”

I’ve told Arleaf that if possible, I’d like her to keep my profession a secret. I can’t tell the priest about being a Poison-Wielder. But, Thaumaturge… it certainly sounds like it’s related to Chemists. I wonder what kind of spells she would get.

Hmm. I do have recollections of seeing Thaumaturge in games. They’re also known as Shamans or Witch Doctors. You usually see them in Western RPGs. They’re close enough to Shamans that you can lump them together. They’re like Chemists, but with more of an inclination to sorcery. I guess you could say they’re in the same discipline?

‘I have heard about them quite a long time ago…’

Oh, you know about Thaumaturges, Veno?

‘I believe it is a class originating from somewhere far from civilization. However, I do not get involved with human classes, so I know not of the details.’

The priest stops flipping while Veno and I were speaking.

“… I have found it. Thaumaturges… a class from before Chemists were an established class. It seems to be related to Chemists, but with more of a focus on the magical arts.”

Ooh, an ancient class then.

“It may sound dangerous, but it is nothing wicked. It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with dark magic.” “Is that right?” “Yes. However, it is also said that you can progress to advanced classes that deal with evil, so proceed with caution.”

Evil classes? What are those? Well, probably evil as in everyone will hate you for it, eh?

‘Classes like Necromancers that involve the dead are likely to be classified as evil in a place like this.’

Necromancy certainly sounds bad. Then… what are Poison-Wielders?

‘Thou can use thy own judgement.’

… Poison-Wielders certainly sound bad. Anything that has “poison” front and center probably doesn’t give off the best of impressions.

‘Is that a comment directed towards me, a Poison Dragon?’

That’s something to do with human nature, I think. When we say poison, stuff like assassinations and other bad things come to mind. Of course, like you’ve said before, medicine is also a poison of sorts, so I can’t make a blanket statement and say all poison is bad. It’s just hard to accept. If it’s bad, it’s a poison. If it’s good, it’s medicine. It’s like word-association. And so, Poison-Wielder.

‘Then thou could also say Medicine-Wielder… there would be no difference between that and Chemist then.’

That sounds a lot better.

“A profession of evil…”

Arleaf seems rather troubled by this.

“You could also advance into other classes. Since it popped up anyway, there would be no harm in trying it out.” “Would it be alright?” “I think we are all sympathetic on not wanting to choose a class of wickedness… but a base profession like Warrior can have paths that lead to evil as well. So too Priests, so too Mages.”

What would an evil Warrior be? Berserker?

‘That is a particular fierce advancement of Warrior. ‘Tis not a class of wickedness.’

It’s kinda hard to explain what I mean. What is a wicked form of Warrior then?

‘For Warriors… something like a Dark Warrior.’

Well, that’s a straightforward name. So I guess anything with “Dark” in the name is evil?

‘I am not too familiar. However, Dark Knights are also an evil class, I have heard.’

Oh, yeah, that makes sense. But they’re considered good in games. I guess it must be different in this world.

‘I know of the conditions to be one. Once someone wields a cursed sword, they are automatically forced into being a Dark Knight.’

That’s certainly evil then. Do they turn out okay?

‘Cursed swords leech the blood of their users and eventually turning them into mere puppets. The price of power is their lives, leading to a deplorable fate. By the way, I have a few of them at my lair as decoration.’

If you have one now, don’t give it to me. If Muu becomes a Dark Knight, we’d be in danger.

“Muu?” ‘If I had one on hand, I would consider giving it to thee. Unfortunately, such is not the case.’

I’m fine without. Wait, why would want to do that anyway?!

“Yukihisa? Were you listening?” “Huh? Oh, what?”

I just noticed Arleaf was speaking while I was chatting with Veno.

“What should we do? I would have to wait a few days between changing jobs, that is if I were to have second thoughts. Should I play it safe with Priest or Mage? Or perhaps try out Thaumaturge? “Hmm…”

Like a Chemist, but more proficient in magic. I can’t say I don’t like the sound of that.

previously: /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /ch008/ /ch009/ /ch010/ /ch011/ /ch012/ /ch013/ /ch014/ /ch015/ /ch016/ /ch017/ /ch018/ /ch019/ /ch020/ /ch021/ /ch022/ /ch023/ /ch024/ /ch025/ /ch026/ /ch027/ /ch028/ /ch029/ /next/ (please support me on Patreon or Paypal) (full list of translated chapters) (discussion thread on Novel Updates)

[kidneyadvocate]

Statistics say that 80% of statistics are wrong.

The title of this is entirely made up, because it sounds interesting enough that I would click on it.  

It came to mind because earlier today I was thinking about how I don’t like the way statistical information is divided, or lacks being divided. That not using more specifics in categories can make the statistics of something less accurate. Then my mind wandered straight into how much it sucks being a statistic. Because we are not just a statistic. We are more. More than our careers, choices, mistakes, illnesses, etc. Side note: There is a very good song by the band Tenth Avenue North called ‘You Are More’, you should give it a listen... After you finish reading my babble for the day. If you have read any of my other blog entries, you already know I can take a long while providing back story before I get to my point... This one exemplifies that.

As you may already know, my husband is a kidney transplant recipient who is currently in renal failure again due to forces beyond his control, and currently on dialysis awaiting another transplant. So statistics and numbers in general haunt us. I refuse to say they define us, but they do have an impact on our lives. As well as over 115,000+ other Americans needing organ transplants, most of being kidneys. 

Going to go off track here, but please register to be a donor.  I know that no one wants to think about being dead, but when you die you can have one of three things done with your organs. 1) Bury them. 2) Cremate them. 3) Give them to someone in need, also giving your living family comfort knowing you are a hero and living on, literally, in others. (I read a story about a bride having the man who received her father’s heart walk her down the isle. She listened to his heart with a stethoscope just before the ceremony.) For me, this was a no-brainer before I even knew my husband. I also have made sure my family is aware of my choice so that in a time of loss they aren’t asked to make it for me. Please don’t leave your family in that situation either. Telling the DMV doesn’t always officially register you, please go to registerme.org to confirm you are registered. Thank you. Now back to statistics...

The ugly number above represents the number of Americans on the deceased donor registry, aka ‘the list.’ (Please see a previous blog entry/rant on why the four letter word ‘list’ is less acceptable in our home than the F bomb.) Lets pretend that number could be divided equally among states... That would be around 2216 people per state. The town I grew up in had a welcome sign saying population 1100, I knew almost everyone and the census must have counted cats, dogs, and horses within city limits. But it hits me hard that you could fill two of my hometown with people facing a battle like ours, in my state alone. You more than likely are acquainted with a family that loves someone represented in that image. Or touched more personally like I am.

A few more statistics to add to that image... According to the United Network of Organ Sharing (who nationally monitors all regions registries), every 14 minutes someone is added to the number of Americans needing organ transplants, and every 13 minutes someone dies waiting for that life saving transplant.

What are the numbers and statistics that bring someone to being on the registry?  LAB TESTS! I am a little biased here, because I have been a hospital phlebotomist, aka ‘vampire’ and ‘lab girl,” for 16 years.  But it is a whole different world being on the receiving end of the numbers turned out, than helping provide quality care to get those numbers. Creatinine 8.3, GFR 7, potassium >6, phosphorus blah blah blah. Those numbers are random bad results I picked because they are often common tests for kidney patients. It gets tiring, depressing, and all the sudden takes control of your life. Like knowing that the GFR dropping to 7, without dialysis, we could both go to sleep tonight and only I wake up in the morning.

So the kidneys are failing/have failed, and we move on to the living donor search, because the wait for a cadaver kidney is around 4 to 7 years depending on your region. In comes more statistics. Like 88% of American’s who test to be living donors are turned down, due to not being healthy enough to avoid a potential threat to themselves, for wanting to be selfless. I fall in that statistic. I try to turn that one around to sound more positive most of the time by saying that 12% of Americans are healthy enough to share their spare kidney instead. And one extremely small statistic that I like very much, the percentage of Americans needed to be living kidney donors in order to wipe out the ‘list’ fifteen times over is 0.5%. Yes, that is typed correctly. Half of one percent.

 Most people in renal failure have to go on dialysis. Which brings a plethora of new numbers, and makes you remember the metric system, and then learn to transfer if back to imperial!!! Mike can do all that stuff in his head, so I just ask him. 

Dialysis statistics are half of what got this topic in my head. Other half being post transplant statistics. Dialysis will be another blog/book itself some day. 

When you try and research life expectancy statistics for patients on dialysis vs. patients having received a transplant the most common comparison number is 5. Like the average number of years before needing another transplant is 5, but having a living donor increases that to 10. The survival rate of persons on dialysis for 5 years is 35-47%.  The 5 year survival rate of persons receiving living kidney donation is 88%  The 5 year survival rate of persons who received best quality deceased donor kidneys is 82%.  In the last five years facilities have started using less than best quality kidneys after realizing that they were throwing away 4 out of 5 deceased donor kidneys, while the list keeps growing larger. The 5 year survival rate for less than perfect is 73%. The ten year survival rate gap is just as bad; dialysis is 20% while living kidney donation is 57%. Clearly receiving a kidney from a healthy living donor is the best option.

So I read these numbers on trusted sites, but personal experiences make me second guess them. While taking to social media to actively search for a living donor for my husband, I have met lots pretty amazing people with similar stories who reach out to us in support. A 72 year old man that finished a 5k race in 40 minutes, 39 years after his only transplant. A lady on dialysis for over 10 years, and doing better than when she first started, who doesn’t qualify for a transplant. A lady who will receive her second transplant this month, whose first transplant lasted 19 years from a cadaver donor. Those three examples are in the past few months, the list of examples could become very long adding from when we first started this journey and including what’s to come. With his first transplant Mike met a man going on 70 years with a transplanted kidney. 

With every average comes radical exceptions; but I have met, and provided care for, more people that fall in the exception than the average. 

I know that one low number brings down a percentage pretty fast. Think about your grades in school. If you have a 10 question test and you miss one it is now 90%. The same applies to all percentages. I also know that as we age our kidney function naturally declines. Making the majority of persons in renal failure and needing a transplant around retirement age. Kidneys are not the only part of us wanting to take a break in our later years. Many other aspects come in to play that potentially drop the percentage number on years of survival.

It is hard for me to see my 38 year old husband listed next to persons mostly our parents age, or older, and trust that these numbers are accurate for him. Which was the basis of my thought process today. Why can’t I find more specific, narrower, statistics? Why can’t it be broken down into survival rates among certain age groups, and on what caused the failure to begin with? Why do studies often have such limited access, agendas, funds, subjects, etc. 

Why does one disease get more attention and advocacy than another that is just as deadly? 

Why is there so little knowledge and awareness shared about kidney health, and living organ donation? 

One certain thing however, is that we do not have an expiration date stamped on our feet, and we all have potential to be radical exceptions. Because whatever is plaguing us and causing us to look at statistics is only one part of who we are.

If you would like to test for eligibility to be a living kidney donor for Mike Nicholas please call Kathy, transplant coordinator, at 608-262-1997. Mike is blood type O negative, but there is a donor exchange program for when someone wants to donate and is not a perfect match. Mike’s insurance will cover the donor’s medical expenses. 

For more information on living kidney donation please call our kidney phone at 309-363-5892. Mike's first living donor, and mother, would be happy to share her experience with those considering testing. Living Donors have no medical costs.

To follow our story please visit/join Our 2nd Kidney Transplant Journey on Facebook.

To register to be an organ/eye/tissue donor please visit registerme.org.

Thank you for your consideration, advocacy, and continued blessings.