#i drew this in a 12? hour frenzy so it is Not The Best but!! TSL! Cosplay!! Party!!!

[vforys]

a birthday banquet for the lord of shadow

[sluttyminghao]

please | k.mg

w.c: 2.2k request: could you possibly do mingyu and edging? genre: smut alllll the way thru my dudes pairing: mingyu x reader (gender neutral) warnings: sub!mingyu, edging, oral (m. receiving), use of toys (vibrator, cock ring), use of handcuffs, slight mention of sexting a/n: this has been the one thing I've been thinking about for days,,, I hope you enjoy!

“Please let me cum, I’ve been so good for you”

His whines and pleas were music to your ears, and the sight was even better. He was currently laying on his back while you straddled his thighs, a vibrator held to his cock and his whimpers getting louder and louder by the second.

How he had gotten into this position you ask? Well, it had started once you got home that afternoon, and you had been waiting for this to happen for a while. Probably for longer than you liked to admit, but now that it had played out so nicely, you knew it was worth the wait.

Your relationship with Mingyu was very dynamic, in the sense that you both enjoyed being the dom and the sub. While Mingyu had said he preferred being the dominant, you knew that if you could coax him enough, he would be able to enjoy being the submissive once in a while.

You had teased him the whole morning before you had to leave for work; leaving soft kisses all down his neck and grinding against his half-hard cock, before getting up and leaving him to deal with a raging boner and load of desire for you.

Before you had even walked out the door you could hear him whimpering for you. You stepped back into the bedroom only to find said man sprawled out on the bed, stripped right down except for his boxers, and one of his hands palming himself through his boxers, a loud moan erupting from him once he saw you standing in the doorway watching him.

“Please...”

You smirk and walk over to him, your mischievous and playful eyes meeting his dark and lustful ones. Slowly placing a hand over the one he was using to palm himself with, he sucked in a breath and waited to see what you would do, albeit impatiently with the way he was squirming around under your touch.

“What do you want baby boy?”

The pet name made him whine as you continued your ministrations on his clothed cock, a small patch of wetness now seeping through from his pre-cum. He continued to whine at the way your hand was moving and how you were now nibbling and lightly sucking on his neck, the feelings sending him into euphoria. 

“Please let me cum”

He watched in horror as you removed your hand and gave his neck one final nip, moving away from him. You smirked at his crestfallen face, knowing that he was definitely falling into a submissive state, just where you wanted him to be.

“No, you can wait until I get home. And if you touch yourself or cum before I get home, you will be punished, okay baby?”

His whine that ended in a groan gave you all the indication you needed that you had done your job, and finally left the house to go to work, shutting the door softly behind you. Now that you were alone with your thoughts, your mind began to spiral with all the things you could do to Mingyu when you got home later that afternoon.

A few hours into your shift at work, you were finally able to sit down and check your phone and catch up on social media things. One thing, or in particular, many messages from one man, caught your attention almost immediately, swiping open the messages to a ton of whines and pleas.

[Gyu <3] 12:34pm: Baby,,, I need you so bad

[Gyu <3] 12:34pm: My cock is so hard right now, it’s so hard not to touch myself 

[Gyu <3] 12:36pm: Please, I need to cum so badly

[Gyu <3] 12:40pm: 1 image attached

You drew in a breath as you clicked on the photo and let it expand to the whole screen, and you felt a pool of arousal form in the pit of your stomach. It was a photo of his cock, standing up and an angry red, the tip starting to turn a shade of dull purple. You could see his slightly defined abs contracting and while you couldn’t see his eyes, you could see he had his bottom lip pulled in under his teeth, obviously trying very hard not to touch himself without your permission.

You quickly started typing out a response to him, knowing that it would drive him absolutely crazy, but would be effective enough until you could get home from work and deal with him yourself.

[You] 1:02pm: Aw does baby boy want to touch himself? Make himself feel good? Why don’t you touch yourself for me then baby, but if you cum you will be punished when I get home. Understood?

His reply was almost immediate, a ‘yes’ and a quick photo he had snapped of him finally wrapping a hand around the base of his cock, pleasure evident across his face. A smirk pulled across your face as you glanced at the time at the top of your phone; only a couple more hours until you could go home and see how fucked out Mingyu really was.

You hadn’t even been able to turn the key in the lock of the door before you could hear his whimpers. Turning the key lightly, you let the door open with a soft thud, before shutting it and toeing off your shoes and peeling your coat off. The whines got louder the closer you got to the bedroom, and you couldn't help but peek in to see how Mingyu was doing, and you felt even more arousal pooling throughout as you watched him.

He was completely bare now, having stripped off his boxers hours ago. His cock was still red and hard, and he was thrusting furiously into his hand, trying so hard to make himself cum. You quietly opened the door to stand close to him, him not having realized you were home as he was too immersed in his pleasure.

You watched him carefully, his face contorting into one of pure pleasure as he had begun the build-up to his orgasm, his chest moving up and down rapidly and his hips bucking into his hand to meet the thrusts. You quirked an eyebrow as he finally came, long white spurts of cum covering his chest and stomach. As his breathing slowed, he opened his eyes and practically screamed when he saw you standing there, a small smirk on your face as you bent down to his level, lips hovering above his.

“What did I tell you before I left for work baby boy? I told you not to cum, and now I have just seen you make a mess all over yourself, care to explain?”

He was whimpering now as you took his still half-hard cock in his hand and begun to pump it again, the overstimulation sending shocks down his spine. He took a few ragged breaths before managing to stutter out a response to you, something along the lines of “I’m sorry,,, couldn't help m’self” while his cheeks became a dark red hue.

“Well I guess I’ll have to punish you now won’t I baby?”

He whined some more, knowing that your punishments were always on the more extreme side, not that he complained. He watched as you opened the drawer in your bedside table, pulling out handcuffs, a cock ring and a vibrator. He gulped at the sight of the vibrator, knowing that if you used it, he would cum immediately.

“Move your hands to the headboard”

He did as you said immediately, hands quickly moving up so that you could cuff his hands to the headboard. Making sure they were secure, you tugged on them lightly before kissing down his neck and onto his chest. His breathing became more rapid as you went further down his body, before stopping right above his aching cock, now leaking precum.

You took his heavy cock in your hand, giving it a few pumps before sliding the cock ring on and making sure it was snug. He moaned out at the feeling; he would never admit it to you, but he really did enjoy being submissive to you. You always gave him the perfect amount of pain and pleasure, as well as the best aftercare.

The dull sound of the vibrator pulled him from his thoughts as he brought his attention back to you, eyes glinting with lust and mischief. You brought the vibrator to his nipples first, eliciting a loud gasp from him as you ran it softly across his chest, playing with the intensities for a bit to watch him squirm.

When you moved the vibrator down towards his thighs, you could see them shake with excitement. An idea had popped into your head, wherein you placed the vibrator on the tip of his cock without warning, pulling a loud moan from his lips.

“I’m gonna cum!”

You immediately pulled the vibrator away, watching as he thrashed on the bed at the loss of an orgasm. You laughed at the sight, his face now a rosy pink colour and his hands pulling strongly on the restraints. He opened his eyes to look at you with his lust-filled eyes, practically black at this point.

“Please let me cum, I’ve been so good for you!!”

You had been edging him for some time now, waiting until you could see his thighs clench or his abs contracting, before pulling away from him and watching him almost cry from how desperate he was for his release. His cock was extremely red now, and the tip a dark purple, streaks of precum leaking down towards the base.

He had tears streaking down his face also, the amount of times he had pleaded and begged to let you cum only to be denied meant that he was extremely sensitive and even the slightest feather touch to his cock would send him into a mad frenzy, chasing his release like a mad man.

“P-please,,n-need to c-cum,,,,”

His voice was strained as he begged once more, the vibrator on the highest setting at the base of his cock while you had wrapped one of his nipples in your mouth, sucking gently. You pulled off with a pop, and looked him right in the eye while moving the vibrator up and down his shaft, his face contorting once more.

“Why should I let you cum baby boy? You didn't listen to me before I left for work, so now you’re paying the price”

He sobbed violently as you held the vibrator to the tip of his cock, watching at how his body shook from the amount of orgasms he had been denied thus far. You finally decided to give in, pulling the cock ring off the base of his shaft and turning off the vibrator.

You took his cock in your hand and pumped quickly, moving your head down and pressing a quick kiss to the tip. You suckled softly on the head, his back arching off the bed almost comically. Watching his actions carefully, you gave him a silent motion to say that he could cum, right as you engulfed his cock and began to suck on his cock like your life depended on it.

As soon as you had motioned that he could cum, he immediately let go, hands pulling roughly on the handcuffs as hot ropes of cum filled your mouth, which never seemed to end. He was seeing stars and blacked out for a few seconds from how intense his orgasm was, and finally relaxed back into the sheets, head spinning.

When he came to a little while later, the handcuffs were gone, and his boxers had been pulled back up. Everything had been cleaned up and he thought that perhaps it had just been a figment of his imagination, until you walked back in with a bottle of water and some fruit on a plate.

You handed him the plate and the water which he accepted gratefully, before you sat next to him, hands fiddling with the hem of your shirt. He watched you as he munched on a strawberry, eyes back to their playful nature. 

“Thank you”

You immediately looked up in surprise, looking at Mingyu who had a grin on his face. You gave him a quizzical look, before he continued on, eating another strawberry and having a sip of water before continuing.

“I deserved that, I really didn't mean to cum before you got home i promise,,, thank you for punishing me”

A blush had crept up your cheeks, not even able to look the man in the eye before he pulled your chin up with a finger, making you look him in the eye. He smiled at you, canines showing prominently, before leaning in and giving you a kiss that was so full of love and passion it made your heart flutter. Just when you had laid down together and snuggled in, Mingyu turned to you once more, a giggle erupting from his lips.

“By the way, that was the best orgasm of my life”

[avengershumanresources]

blood 11 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, smut, adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

part 10 - part 12

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist

11 - a battle cry

“Good as new,” Wanda helped Stephen sit up, her arm wrapped around his torso, his arm sling over her shoulders. 

“I feel like a horse ran over me,” he grumbled, pressing a finger to his temple. 

You’d long fallen asleep, though you’d been too stubborn to leave his side and sleep in a proper bed. Instead, you’d curled up in one of the ornate chairs and passed out, hand draped as close as physically possible to the injured sorcerer. 

“It was an herb from Brock’s kingdom that stopped the blooding from clotting,” Wanda explained, summoning the book she’d read the antidote in. “It’s rare, even for that kingdom, and she wouldn’t have had enough to cover all the arrows.”

“Someone must be bitter,” he commented dryly. “I don’t know why, I’ve been nothing but nice to the old witch.”

“You weren’t exactly subtle in your romancing of the princess,” Wanda reminded him with a knowing smirk. 

“Not a good enough reason to try and kill me,” he decided, standing and giving his arms and torso a stretch. The wound still tickled slightly when he shifted, a side effect of the magic used to seal the cut. “Now, do we have any idea why the princess is a homing signal of magical energy?”

Both of their eyes fell on you. Your seidr had spread, making gentle waves of violet light over your skin as you slept. It was almost overwhelming how powerful it felt to the magic users. Stephen felt almost suffocated and he didn’t miss how Wanda skirted the edge of the room, avoiding direct contact with you. 

“Loki sent a raven to Asgard,” Wanda supplied. “Hopefully Frigga has a suggestion.”

“It won’t matter if Amora keeps her wards up,” he huffed in frustration. “There’s nothing at Kamar-Taj on the subject that I’ve been able to find. The ancient Asgardians were effective in their campaign.”

“I’ve solidified the wards around the keep as best I could, but this is going to break through and Amora will know,” Wanda warned, chewing her bottom lip anxiously. 

Stephen tried reaching for your hand but the seidr snapped back at him like a guard dog ready to fight. He ran a tired hand over his face, shaking his head at the situation. This certainly was not ideal.

(—)

“We maintain our plan of attack,” Peter instructed, pouting around the base of the castle. “We’re going to use the tunnels.”

“The wards are all around the castle,” Loki protested. “There’s no way in.”

“My sister, Gods rest her soul, had snuck past every ward that every Master had put on the castle,” he pulled up the map Sam handed him and drew his finger across the page. “They’re outside the boundary lines and protected by older runes. The wards don’t effect them.”

“The problem is, we can’t bring enough men to thoroughly attack their forces from within,” Sam continued, eyeing Loki. “We have to take down Amora and break down the wards so our men can get through.”

“That’s a suicide mission,” Loki frowned. “She’ll kill anyone on sight.”

“And you trained under your mother as well,” Peter noted. “You know her tricks and capabilities. If anyone is getting close to her, it’s you.”

“Peter, I appreciate your enthusiasm but I’ve tried killing her numerous times in the past,” Loki replied tersely. “We’re evenly matched. If she has any other magic users with her, that’s it.”

“We need something more powerful then,” Thor reasoned pointed, looking to Loki with a knowing stare.

“Short of a miracle, we’re limited in what we have until more Asgardians arrive,” Peter countered. “We need to get inside and take back the castle.”

Loki had fallen silent. 

There was a way. A force of magic more powerful than any known user could imagine.

It was risky to say the least, and he knew at least one person would disagree.

(—)

“Absolutely not,” Stephen snapped throwing his hands up. “Have you lost your mind?”

“She’s going to be found regardless,” Loki directed the statement to Tony. “And intrinsically, her seidr will lower Amora’s defense enough for myself or one of us to get a move in edgewise.”

“It isn’t entirely unreasonable,” Wanda voiced, earning a glare from Stephen. “We send in the guard with her to protect her from a physical threat... certainly she would be able to handle any magical ones.”

“She’s untrained,” Stephen stressed again, looking to Tony for support. “What if, Gods help us, the seidr stops doing whatever it’s doing? We don’t know. It’s too unpredictable and unreliable to make a plan centered around it.”

The trio had tasked you with helping some of the wounded men while they debated Loki’s suggestion after he’d returned from the battle front. The general agreement had been that you would have immediately volunteered and that didn’t bode well for some of the logistic issues that needed to be brought up ahead of you charging headfirst into battle.

“It defeats the point of faking her death,” Tony agreed, looking to Loki for a rebuttal. 

“It doesn’t,” he insisted. “Amora won’t see it coming. Not until it’s too late.”

“That’s rubbish and you know it,” Stephen snapped back. “She could be across the kingdom and anyone with a speck of magic in their system would sense her coming. She’s a storm of uncontrolled energy.”

“Is she?” Loki asked innocuously, quirking a brow. “I certainly don’t feel anything in here... isn’t she only the next room over?”

Stephen froze. 

The Asgardian prince was right. 

He couldn’t feel your seidr anywhere in the room, outside of it, or within the castle walls at all. 

“What did you do?” he asked, dumbfounded. 

Loki held up a small amulet and he heard Tony suck in a breath of surprise. 

“Where did you find that?” the king demanded, standing from his chair and reaching for the necklace. Wrapping his fingers around the amulet himself, he ran his fingers around the edges while he listened. 

“Your late queen entrusted it to my mother,” Loki explained. “It arrived an hour ago with her written incantations to seal the seidr temporarily. It had to be taken by Lady Sif to the Asgardian border, then transported to Kamar-Taj by Mordo, and delivered to me by Wong. A lot of trouble went into getting it and I would hate to see it go to waste…”

Tony clutched the the chain of the amulet in his fist and held it up for Stephen to better see. 

It was definitely old, with weathered metal and jewels embedded in the ridges that had long lost their luster to time. 

“If there’s a chance, it would be in this,” he stated firmly in agreement. “Alexandra used it while she was still training her abilities with Frigga. It saved a lot of trouble while she experimented and on her death bed, when her powers were in a frenzy, this protected the kingdom from harm.”

He turned it over and showed the sorcerer the rune on the back. Stephen was, admittedly, unfamiliar with the symbol. It resembled old Asgardian, but the way the letters curved suggested another origin.

“Vanir,” Tony explained when Stephen flickered his gaze up curiously at the king. “She found it in an old temple on the outskirts of Asgard near the old Vanaheim border.”

“The princess keeps it with her, and we slip in undetected,” Loki continued. “We ambush Amora, and Peter’s troops break the siege and the castle is once again under the proper Stark royal.”

“I don’t see why the princess can’t remain here, with the amulet, undetected and safe while we deal with Amora?” Stephen seethed. 

“Stephen, it’s as best a plan we have,” Wanda urged, watching him with a steady gaze. “You knew the potential outcomes. It isn’t ideal, but this isn’t unexpected.”

“What?” Tony looked to her, furrowing his brow. “What do you mean? Was there more than you told me?”

“Nothing has changed in your destiny,” she quickly assured him. “But your children... their paths have been sporadic.”

“Explain, now,” Tony shot back. “Are they in danger?” 

“Your majesty, it’s best not to dwell on potential futures,” Loki cut in, slipping between the king and the sorceress with an arm. “They’re possibilities, not guarantees. Tampering to avoid certain outcomes is how you end up in a worse scenario than anticipated.”

“I want to know,” Tony snapped, looking to Wanda. “What else did you see?”

She looked up at Stephen uneasily and he finally relented, holding up a hand in her direction and taking over the explanation for her. 

“They were cloudy,” he replied. “The princess was in the throne room during the siege. Prince Peter was nearly overwhelmed by a wave of Northern Kree. They were vague and not necessarily connected.”

He left out the part where you were stabbed. 

Stabbed through the heart, more specifically, but Brock Rumow’s sword. It’d devastated him for days after Wanda had shown him the visions. He’d worked so hard to keep you out of the castle, to move you t safety, and avoid the very outcome. 

But it seemed the fates were not done with your part of the story. 

“You told me this ended with me by the throne,” Tony turned on Wanda. “My children out of harms way. Peter’s coronation.”

“Nothing is certain,” Loki caught him by the arm and spun him back toward him and Stephen. Tony from, fixing up the prince who dared touch royalty so directly. “The visions are murky. They’re not clear and if they were to be solidified by the decision we make, we would know.”

Tony looked to Wanda who nodded slowly in agreement. His boyd language softened.

“Is this truly the only chance we have at taking the castle?” he looked between the trio. 

Stephen saw something in the king’s eyes that begged for one of them to disagree. 

But even Stephen could see the inevitable. 

Amora was too powerful and too evenly matched against any or all of them.

Using your seidr was the only way to overwhelm her and kill her.

He hated it. Gods he hated it so much and had prayed, despite not necessarily being a religious type, that someone would have a better plan. Loki and Wanda were among the strongest after himself, after all. 

The room remained silent at the kings question.

When no one objected, Tony swallowed hard and nodded to himself. 

“Bring her in then,” he murmured. “We must move quickly.”

Stephen offered to retrieve you, quickly filling you in on the idea. 

And to no surprise, you readily agreed and volunteered your help in whatever capacity you could manage. Stephen sighed, weaving his fingers through yours while stopping outside the meeting room.  

No seidr was fighting back at his touch. 

Loki’s amulet was working. 

“I’d hoped you would put up more of a fight,” he confessed, lifting your hand and seeing none of the violet glow that once emitted from your body.  

“You nearly died,” you reminded him tersely. “I have a bone to pick with Amora. Not to mention, there’s nothing more I loved to see than Brock’s body skewered on the top of one of our men’s swords.”

There was a venom to your tone that seemed almost unnatural considering your usual caring personality. Never had Stephen seen you so determined to cause harm to another human, but perhaps he’d underestimated the fury you felt toward the enemy king. 

“Right,” he murmured, giving your hand a squeeze and pulling away. He opened the doors, ushering you inside while the others began detailing the plan. 

(—)

Peter was directing his men when a portal opened up and Loki stepped through with Stephen and a cloaked figure. 

“We need a distraction away from the base of the castle,” Stephen explained briskly, maneuvering his body so Peter couldn’t get a good look at the third figure. 

Assuming it was just Wanda, Peter turned his attention to the battalion nearby.  

“I can have them make a move for the western wall, but it’d be pointless if Amora’s sorcerers have up their barriers,” he explained, running an anxious hand through his hair. “They’ve barred us off.”

“We just need attention diverted long enough to slip through the tunnel system,” Stephen supplied, sending a knowing nod in Peters direction.

Three powerful magic users? Going in undetected? 

They were going to break down the barrier, Peter realized and immediately started rallying more men. 

“Thor! We need a distraction,” he called to the Asgardian prince. Thor reached for the large hammer on the ground next to him and lifted it to the air. 

The sky began to crackle above them, and Thor’s expression filled with an excited glee.

“That, my friend, I think we can manage,” he bellowed, grinning between Loki and Peter, turning to wake the Asgardian soldiers who’d been sleeping in the camp nearby. 

“I’ll start the first wave, give us thirty minutes to start an approach before trying to breach the tunnels,” he instructed, again trying to catch the eye of the cloaked figure. 

He couldn’t be sure, but he almost thought the person’s eyes were glowing violet, not red. 

Chalking it up to a lack of sleep, the group started toward the castle in the darkness at the edge of the forest, and Peter focused on readying his men. 

What Peter didn’t know was what his father had planned for after the shield fell. 

The Wakandans had finally arrived and in greater numbers than King T’Challa had originally promised. 

They’d remained discreet and undetected by Rumlow and Obidiah’s forces, and once the shield was down, they were prepared to storm the castle with the entire combined armies of Tony, Thor, T’Challa, Carol, and Peter. 

The final key was taking down Amora and her circle of magic users. 

Ultimately, once she fell, the others would quickly fall in turn and that was exactly why you were trudging through the forest with Loki and Stephen toward one of your preferred tunnels to the castle. While Peter and his men readied their attacks.

“Natalia and James are still inside posing as servants,” Stephen explained. “They have agreed to lead us to Amora. They sent a message through one of the kitchen maids’ sons.” 

“No one recognized them?” you asked in surprise. 

“We both know how talented they are at blending in,” he hummed with a sly smirk. “In fact, I seem to recall Natalia being the one to show you the tunnels in the first place. They didn’t garner their reputation for nothing.”

You let out a small breath of relief. Of course he was right. If anyone had a penchant for survival and adaptability it was Nat and James. Still, they were your friends and beloved companions, you were going to be worried about their well-being assassins or not. 

At least Peter was still in one piece. And Morgan and Pepper were in good spirits in Asgard, at least according to Loki. Your family was safe, but even so, Stephen had insisted upon accompanying you and Loki into the belly of the castle. 

You’d protested significantly. He was healing. He was a target. It was too dangerous with Amora, and he’d countered backwith similar arguments. 

In the end, your father made the final call, sending you both and joking the two of you would do well to protect one another. 

“Perhaps when this is over, you and your sorcerer can come to Asgard to train,” Loki murmured while Stephen scouted ahead for any stray troops. 

“And here I thought the offered had been rescinded after Stephen showed up and started to tutor me?” you teased, recalling the conversation you’d had with the prince at the ball honoring Stephen’s arrival all those years ago. 

“It was always there, you know that,” he replied, glancing you over. “You forget I was tasked to look after you. My mother would be pleased to see you both. When Strange studied in Asgard briefly, she had nothing but high praise.”

You could tell the compliment bristled your old friend and you set a hand on his shoulder. 

“Everything has changed, hasn’t it?” you asked quietly, watching Stephen’s darkened form maneuver the wilderness ahead. 

“The dawn is going to rise on a new kingdom,” he agreed. “My father will be disappointed in your selection of a groom.”

You felt your cheeks warm at the off handed comment, though you didn’t bother to object. Stephen was the one. Your heart couldn’t even consider another. Not now. Not after all you’d been through together and how he so lovingly knew you mind, body, and soul. 

“And your mother?” you asked lightly. 

“She’ll be thrilled regardless,” he hummed. “You’re the daughter she never had. She adored your mother, you know that, and promised to take care of you. Marriage or not.”

You paused, carefully selecting your next words. 

“What about you?” 

He stilled. You must have taken him by surprise, or maybe no one had ever asked him directly. Loki looked forward at the tree line ahead, taking a few moments longer than expected to give you an answer. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said quietly.

You were about to open your mouth to ask him if he really meant it, when Stephen reappeared in the shrubs in front of you. 

“The areas clear and I can hear Peter and Thor have started their attack. We need to move now,” he waved the two of you over and you sent a final glance to Loki who flashed a small, reassuring, smile before following shortly behind. 

One step at a time, you reminded yourself, your heart giving a small throb of guilt at his reaction. Marriage, betrothal, none of it mattered until your enemies fell. 

(--)

12- a memory 

TAG LIST (message to be added!):

@ayamenimthiriel @ladynothing

@im-a-bi-disaster-help @idkwhatthisislol

@bluefaeriefury​

[kittinoir]

Phantoms Ch. 12

Read on Ao3

Adrien couldn’t think of a single place he wouldn’t rather be than anywhere else at that particular moment. He’d even trade places with Chloe, wherever she was, if it meant he could get out of this particular date.

Unfortunately, no switch - or miraculous rescue - was likely to take place.

It didn’t help that he’d just spent the majority of his afternoon with Lila’s nearly-naked body pressed skin-to-skin against his - the unfortunate reality of his father’s new swimwear line - while the rest of the team fleshed out their plan. He wasn’t ignorant to the fact that Lila had pushed nearly every advantage the skimpy clothing had given her, as much as he’d pretended to be oblivious.

But all Adrien had truly felt was frustrated; Lila was the last person he wanted to be around.

Pair it all with the fact that in a couple hours he and his friends would be infiltrating his fathers’ very private study, and all Adrien wanted to do was disappear into his four-nozzle shower until the steam melted him straight down the drain.

Things had slightly improved, at least: he was fully dressed now in a suit from his father’s last collection, still new enough to be considered on trend. Even as Adrien admired the fabric, he couldn’t stop the image of Marinette in a matching gown from entering unbidden into his mind. It would have been midnight blue and covered in a thousand little crystals that shimmered when she moved. She would have looked like magic and he would have been the luckiest man in the room.

But he’d never see her in that dress. She wasn’t his date tonight. If it was any consolation, he was willing to bet she was about as excited with her date as he was with his. Felix’s mouth had positively puckered when he’d discovered his part in their plan; it would have been funny if there had been anything remotely humorous about the situation.

But it was hard to laugh at much of anything when you might be sharing a home with a super villain.

“I’ll go over there right now,” Plagg had declared, half way through the wall of the fencing gym where ‘Adrien’ was supposed to have been that morning while Chat Noir patrolled. “I’ll prove it. I’ll sort this out, once and for all!”

But Adrien had stopped him. He couldn’t say it was truly for any one reason. At first he’d been erring on the side of caution: Adrien’s schedule was booked and he wasn’t due to return home until he arrived at the gala that night. He couldn’t be kwami-less if there was an akuma attack.

Then it had come down to practicality: if Adrien knew, he wasn’t going to just wait to pull off their plan. He’d cataclysm right through the floor. And unfortunately, the reckless part of him knew he wouldn’t tell Marinette about it, either, because she would try to stop him - and she’d be right. They needed the little time they had to plan.

But hours later, the waiting felt unbearable. Marinette had called with the details on his too-brief lunch break. It was simple - almost too simple. It required him to do the impossible: disappear in a crowd. Now Adrien’s skin itched with the pent-up adrenaline trying to burn through his system, begging for action.

“You ready, kid?” Plagg asked, drifting up over Adrien’s shoulder. Several empty camembert packages lay discarded on the couch in Adrien’s trailer.

“How does anyone prepare themselves for the fact that their dad might be the monster that’s been terrorizing all of Paris for over a year?” Adrien said instead. He wasn’t even being sarcastic, he genuinely wanted to know. Who could possibly come out of that kind of trauma unscathed? He doubted even Marinette’s magical ladybugs could fix that kind of damage.

“…I’m here for you,” Plagg said, unable to meet Adrien’s eyes in the mirror as he made the gesture. “You’re the best owner I’ve ever had. I won’t let you go through this alone.”

“You think it’s him?” As much as the facts lined up, as much as they always had, Adrien had never been able to let go of the hope that it was all one big coincidence. After all, what were the odds Master Fu would hand one of the most powerful Miraculous to Hawk Moth’s own son?

“I think even if it’s not, you’re going to have a hard time reconciling the fact that you thought he could be,” Plagg admitted as he came to rest on Adrien’s shoulder. “Don’t shut your friends out, Adrien. That’s how you spent months looking for her in the first place.”

Adrien blew out a hard breath, turning from the mirror. As usual, Plagg had no issue bringing up the one thing he didn’t want to acknowledge.

“I don’t know how to share this,” Adrien said as he reached for his blazer. “Because if I do, then that means that it’s all - ”

Real.

Even then, he couldn’t admit it. Not until he was sure.

“Lets get through this party first,” Plagg suggested, disappearing into the blazer pocket as Adrien slipped it on. “No point in unwrapping cheese you can’t finish.”

Adrien finally cracked a smile at that, but it died quickly as a knock came at the door.

He knew what he would find when he opened it, but that didn’t make it any easier to see Lila standing on the other side in a gorgeous red gown.

“Wow, Adrien, you look amazing,” she cooed, leaning in to run one gloved hand down his sleeve. “I wish I’d known which suit you were going to pick.” She pouted. “I would have dressed to match.”

He doubted it; the only way Lila dressed was to kill.

“Sorry,” Adrien said, begrudgingly offering her his arm. “My father chose it. I didn’t know which one it was going to be until after the shoot today.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lila said, waving away his comment as they made their way to the car waiting for them out front. “We still make a stunning couple.”

He didn’t bother to correct her. She always insisted it was just a figure of speech or a slip of the tongue. If she wanted to live in her own fantasy, he wasn’t going to waste his time correcting her.

And yet, he found himself oddly grateful for her incessant chatter as they headed to his fathers’ fundraiser. Anything was a welcome distraction from what he was about to do.

“Ooh, look at the press, Adrien!”

The car ride hadn’t felt that long, but sure enough, she was right - they were already pulling up outside his home.

The normally stoic Agreste mansion was nearly unrecognizable. Enormous floodlights had been erected strategically around the house, and as Lila had already noted, piles of paparazzi were spilling out of the for-once-open gates. The sight of his fathers’ car had whipped them into a frenzy.

Alright then. Showtime.

Adrien waited until his bodyguard made it around the car and opened the door for them before alighting from the car. The man his mother had raised him to be made him wait for Lila, even going so far as to hold a hand out to help her from the car. Shame nudged him as she stepped smiling and waving onto the deep green carpet that led to the front door; she had her faults, but she wasn’t an evil person. He was upset with his father’s contracts more than anything. As frustrated as he might be, he didn’t want to embarrass her in front of these reporters. No one deserved that.

So he held out an elbow for her and smiled back as she took it, holding it even as a dozen flashbulbs went of in their faces.

As far as press lines went, it wasn’t the most painful one Adrien had experienced. Thankfully contractual obligations kept the reporters focused mostly on the fundraiser they were there to support, though every now and then they couldn’t help but to ask them if Paris’s heartthrob was locked up at last. Those questions Adrien was always quick to answer. The one time he wasn’t, Lila made a comment that implied if they weren’t yet, they would be, soon. It became a little difficult to maintain his generosity of spirit after that.

They’d nearly made it to the front doors when the flashbulbs erupted again.

Both he and Lila paused to see what the commotion was about, and Adrien felt his heart stop altogether.

She was so much more beautiful than he’d imagined she would be, but that was to be expected; he never could do her justice. She’d worn her hair down for once, a pink ribbon the same colour as her dress woven through the strands.

At that moment, he could have kicked himself. Contractual obligations be damned; he’d been stupid not to cease this opportunity with Marinette. He’d have done anything to be the one escorting her that night.

And just as suddenly, he realized he didn’t want to shut her out. Through the bad, maybe horrific things, for the good, possibly amazing things, he wanted to share it all with her. God, he couldn’t think of a single thing more beautiful than sharing a life with her. Even this night, this impossible evening, with the wrong girl on his arm and his father on the other side of the door, even if it made it all real…because it could be real.

“Adrien.”

Lila’s hiss drew him from his stupor, and Adrien abruptly realized that despite his best intentions, he’d likely embarrassed Lila anyway. He wasn’t actually sure how long he’d been staring after Marinette, but she and Felix had certainly drawn a great deal closer.

“Shall we?” he offered. He wouldn’t insult her further by apologizing; they both knew he wasn’t sorry.

“Of course,” Lila said. Her tone was sweet, but it set Adrien on edge. It was then he realized that Lila was now staring at Marinette, though she allowed herself to be guided through the doors.

“You didn’t say she was going to be here,” Lila snarled once they were inside.

“I didn’t realize you were supposed to approve the guest list,” Adrien said. “Regardless, I can’t control who my cousin chooses to bring as his plus one.”

Lila’s eyebrows rose. “Felix? She’s here with Felix?”

“She’s not here with me,” Adrien said. Regrettably. Stupidly. Pridefully.

That seemed to placate her. “That must be tough,” Lila guessed with empty empathy, leaning her head on Adrien’s shoulder as they entered the ballroom. The space had always seemed to Adrien to be nothing more than an embarrassment of riches. No one had balls anymore, and if they did, the Agreste’s wouldn’t. Still, his father had insisted it was historical and had had it restored with the rest of the home before they’d moved there. Regardless, it seemed to be the perfect place to hold that nights’ function.

“Father’s outdone himself,” Adrien said as they took in the crowded room, choosing not to follow Lila’s particular line of conversation.

“It’s spectacular,” Lila agreed.

Roses from their own garden had been woven in among some very realistic looking ivy that twined around the many pillars around the edge of the room. Mannequins displaying the pieces to be bid on were set between them. A string quartet was playing something jazzy in the corner, and several waiters were making rounds of the room with trays of champagne and h’ours d’oeuvres.

“Shall we?” Adrien asked, nodding to the floor where several couples were already dancing.

“Absolutely!”

Adrien let Lila pull him onto the floor and into a dance, even if she was closer than he strictly wanted her to be. The only person he’d ever danced this closely with before was -

He didn’t finish the thought. He couldn’t afford the distraction. It was nearly time; the only person they were waiting on now was Kagami.

“This is so nice, Adrien,” Lila murmured as they turned. “We’re perfect. Why won’t you - ”

“Don’t, Lila,” Adrien said, bringing them to a stop. “All we are is friends. All we will ever be is friends. And if you can’t respect that, all we will be is co-workers.”

Lila scoffed. “She’s here with another guy and still you won’t - ”

“Enough!” Adrien took a step back, until her hands slid off his shoulders. “This isn’t about her. It’s about me. And the truth is, she could tell me she hates me and I would still feel how I feel. You’re done. After tonight, consider yourself relieved of your duties. You don’t work for my father anymore.”

She looked as though he’d struck her, and some distant part of Adrien dimly thought that if he’d been trying not to embarrass her, firing her in the middle of his father’s fundraiser was probably not the best way to go about it.

“You…can’t,” she sputtered. “You can’t do that.”

“You’re right,” Adrien admitted, but Lila’s relief was fleeting. “But my father can, and he will once he hears about how unprofessional you’ve been.”

He almost wanted to laugh. He doubted neither he nor Lila would have much of a job after that night if they were right, but he wasn’t going to put up with this. Not anymore. He should have realized a long time ago she would never stop.

“Please, Adrien,” Lila said, latching onto his arm. “Don’t do this. I’m…I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, I - ”

The stupid thing was, he wanted to believe her. He wanted to give her another chance.

But he could still feel the press of her skin against his, and he knew he was out of chances to give.

“I’m sorry, Lila,” Adrien said. “You’ve left me no choice. Excuse me.”

He stepped out of her grasp a second time, and this time he didn’t stop walking until he’d made his way to the secluded table in a shadowed corner where non-alcoholic beverages were being served. He poured himself a drink, then another. He was almost to the bottom when Kagami finally slipped in with Max on her arm. He watched as she made eye contact with Marinette, then sought him out. He stepped forward into the light and caught her gaze moments later. A nearly imperceptible nod was all the indication she gave - and all they needed.

Adrien watched as Felix and Marinette left the room first, seeming to all the world like just another couple interested in exploring the house. His heart pounded, begging him to follow, but instead Adrien turned back to the remaining guests, counting down the ten minutes until he was supposed to leave as well. That was how long he’d estimated it would have taken him to extricate himself from his date; he hadn’t been planning on efficiency.

It felt like hours before the ten minutes was up, but when it was, Adrien gave one more cursory glance to the ballroom, scanning the faces for prying eyes. Lila had apparently thrown herself into the arms of the first person to show interest and seemed bent on illustrating, most likely to him, what a great time she was having without him. Still, he took a roundabout way through the room and exited through the gardens, as though he were simply looking for some fresh air. He wasn’t so naive to think she’d let his sleight go without an attempt reconciliation - or revenge.

Adrien made his way slowly through the gardens, looking for all the world as though he was simply enjoying the evening. At least he hoped he did. Even his acting skills were stretched to the breaking point against the torrent pouring through his head. It was wordless at least, but it blocked out everything else but this single task ahead of them.

Too soon and not quick enough, Adrien found himself in front of the doors to his father’s study. He didn’t give himself time to linger; the last thing he needed was to be spotted outside the doors. Normally they’d be locked, but Felix was supposed to have rectified that.

He knocked once, then twice, their simple signal that it was a team member and not a staff member, before twisting the long handle. The door gave without protest and he slipped inside.

“You’re late,” Felix said without looking up. He was kneeling on the floor behind Gabriel’s desk, running his finger along the carpet. He’d found the seam of the hatch, Adrien realized. Neither he nor Marinette had transformed yet, relying on the excuse of two kids overextending their welcome versus two superheroes actively breaking into Gabriel’s office should they be discovered.

“Did you have trouble?” Marinette asked. She seemed relaxed, but her eyes guttered - or were those just the shadows in the dark office?

“Took the long way around,” Adrien explained, calling on Chat Noir’s transformation before crossing to Felix. Chat Noir’s night vision would be more helpful than his ordinary eyes. “Found anything?”

“The hatch is in the same place as it was in the photo,” Felix grunted as his fingers slipped off the slender seam in the floor, “But other than that, nothing. No latch, no button, nothing.”

“Maybe he opens it from his tablet?” Marinette suggested, but Chat Noir shook his head.

“Nathalie holds onto that,” Chat Noir explained. “My father would want to be able to access the hatch at will, not page someone to activate it for him.”

“The desk then?” Marinette said as Felix stood.

“Pretty minimal for a desk,” Felix muttered as he began to run his fingers across the chrome surface.

But that was his father, Chat Noir thought bitterly. Minimal office. Minimal family. Minimal love.

They all paused as Max and Kagami joined them at last in the office. If Kagami was uncomfortable to be in the same room as her ex and the object of his affections, she didn’t show it. He owed her an apology when this was all over. He’d owed her one for some time.

“Not there,” Marinette said to Felix as Max transformed near the window. Kagami kept watch at the door. “Look. The hatch doesn’t match up with where you’re standing.”

Felix snarled in frustration. “So what does it line up with?”

“The portrait,” Chat Noir said suddenly, looking past his cousin to the painting in question. “There’s a safe behind it; it’s where the Grimoire was.”

“You think the mechanism to the hatch is in the safe?” Marinette asked.

“People like my mother and Gabriel Agreste are obsessed with convenience,” Kagami chimed in. “The mechanism is likely not in the safe, but perhaps in the frame of the portrait?”

“Good idea,” Marinette said, joining Chat Noir at the portrait. “It does line up from this distance.”

“And the angle of Queen Bee’s photo makes more sense,” Pegasus agreed as he analyzed the space between the desk, portrait, and where they were standing. “I knew something about it was bugging me. There’s a 98.6% chance Kagami is correct about the latch in the frame.”

“I like those odds,” Marinette said with a grim smile.

“Let’s hope the rest of the night is as successful,” Chat Noir murmured as he turned back to the frame.

He was vaguely aware of Pegasus using Voyage behind them, of Alya and Nino and Luka joining them in the office, of Marinette, always Marinette, just a few feet away, but it was all secondary to the portrait in front of him.

He’d always thought of the portrait as proof of his father’s grief. Now Chat Noir wondered. Was it one more deception? One more lie, spoon-fed to him so easily because he wanted so badly to believe it?

He found his eyes wandering, tracing the familiar whorls and patterns in the paint. How many times had he stood in his father’s office, looking just past his father’s shoulder at the portrait, knowing the berating would get twice as bad if Gabriel thought his son wasn’t paying attention? How many times had he sought comfort in the likeness of her gaze, in the imitation of her soft smile? How many times had he stood in his father’s office, willing Emilie to step from the frame and lay a restraining hand on his father’s shoulder?

But she never had, and Adrien had been left to weather his father’s moods alone. How many hours altogether had he spent staring at the painting -

Chat Noir frowned, his eyes snagging on a piece of the portrait.

“What is it? Marinette asked, noticing the change in him at once. Perhaps she felt it, as he often imagined he could when something went amiss with her.

“This part here,” Chat Noir muttered, raising a finger as if to touch the painting. “It looks…wrong…” How could he possibly explain that there was a shadow where there hadn’t been before?

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Marinette murmured, “Try it.”

Chat Noir hesitated for only the briefest moment before he reached out and pressed a finger to the canvas. To his shock, it gave way beneath his hand, sinking into the wall.

A button.

“It didn’t do anything,” Felix hissed, stalking up behind them.

“It wouldn’t,” Chat Noir shot back, scanning the portrait for more irregularities. “Convenient, yes, but careless? Father would never make something easily accessible.”

“So what’s the hitch?” Rena Rouge wondered out loud.

“My guess?” Max said, his transformation worn off, “Multiple buttons. Each one increases security exponentially.”

“So how did Chloe find it?” Viperion wondered. There was no judgement in his voice, just open curiosity.

“We can ask her when we find her,” Felix said tightly. “We don’t have much longer.”

Chat Noir hated to admit it, but Felix was right. They’d already been missing too long.

“Tikki?” Marinette called softly. The tiny red kwami poked her head out of a hidden pocket in the folds of Marinette’s skirts and briefly assessed the room before zipping up to hover in front of her holder’s eyes. “Do you mind? The portrait itself, not the safe behind it.”

“Mhmm!” Tikki gave a cheery nod before disappearing into the canvas in a cascade of red glitter.

“Maybe that’s how she did it,” Nino murmured in the abrupt silence. “Maybe Pollen found it.”

“It’s possible,” Tikki chirped as she reappeared. “Six buttons,” she explained as she bounced along each one, “That need to be pressed simultaneously in order to trigger the trap door.”

“Thank you, Tikki,” Marinette said as the kwami came to rest in Marinette’s upturned palm. “I guess…this is it.” She turned to look at Chat Noir, and he realized everyone else had done the same. It was his plan, and his father. They would go on his signal.

“Then let’s go,” Chat Noir said.

The team backed up as Marinette and Felix transformed. In seconds, Marinette’s voluminous ballgown had been replaced by the upgraded suit Chat Noir was still trying to get used to. Felix emerged from a bright white light in the silvery, wolfish suit he’d chosen, hammer at his hip.

“Good luck,” Max said before slipping back out the door. Chat Noir knew he would be heading back to the party. If everything went to plan, Max would be refuelling Kaalki for Alya, Nino, and Luka to slip out when they returned while simultaneously keeping a lookout for anyone headed to the office.

“My turn,” Rena Rouge said with a grin. “Mirage!”

Four perfect replicas of Marinette, Adrien, Felix, and Kagami appeared in the middle of the room, soft smiles on their lips. If someone looked closely, there was a vacancy in their eyes that belied their creation, but Alya was unlikely to give anyone that opportunity

“Go,” Rena Rouge instructed, barely opening the door for them. The illusions vanished into the hall, but Rena paused before following them. “I’ll keep it going as long as I can.” The plan called for her to refresh the illusion as often as she was able, keeping the foursome as far on the fringes of the party as she was able.

“Just do your best,” was Ladybug’s hushed reply. Her friend nodded, then disappeared.

“Now the hatch,” Chat Noir said.

Koira didn’t hesitate as he stepped up to the portrait and plunged his fingers into the buttons.

The hatch dropped away with barely a whisper and the same dark tunnel from Queen Bee’s photo appeared in the floor. Chat Noir’s excuse from that morning fell to pieces; it wasn’t a second safe. The passage was far too deep for that.

“Why didn’t she come for us?” Ladybug whispered as she stared into the abyss. “Didn’t she think we would help her?”

“With what?” Koira asked roughly, kneeling by the opening. “A hole in the floor? She wanted more proof. She went to get it.”

Chat Noir could sense there was more to it that Koira wasn’t telling, but he couldn’t tear himself away from the passage long enough to think on it.

Even then, Chat Noir knew what they were going to find. Felix was right. Chloe was right. Marinette had been right. He knew it in a way he couldn’t explain, the truth suddenly and mercilessly settling along his bones. Maybe a part of him had known ever since Marinette had first brought up the possibility, when she twisted his perspective for just a moment and the entire puzzle had fallen into place. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to know, and now he had no other choice.

“Let’s go.” He barely recognized his own voice, but he didn’t care. The cool rage that had consumed him blocked out everything else.

“Chat Noir…”

He felt a hand on his arm and shook it off. He knew who it was. He knew what she would say. But he was not sitting this out. He’d been sitting out for too long. If they wouldn’t go, he would.

So he stepped into the shaft and let himself drop for several seconds before bracing his hands and feet on the cool metal sides to slow his descent. He felt rather than saw someone slip else into the tunnel, then again, and again, and again as the whole team made their descent. A green flash briefly lit the passage as Nino erected a shield over the office, their last line of defense.

It felt like hours. It felt like seconds. But when Chat Noir finally fell those final few feet and plummeted into the brightly lit, cavernous room, it was as though fate had snipped the thread of his life and he’d fallen into a new reality - a new nightmare.

“Sonofabitch,” Koira muttered, straightening from his drop beside Chat Noir. “She was right.”

Chat Noir didn’t know if his cousin meant Marinette or Chloe. He couldn’t bring himself to care as first one, than three, then dozens of butterflies flitted by them. It wasn’t an attack, he dimly registered; there were just so many it was impossible to step anywhere without encountering at least one akuma.

He started as someone laced their fingers through his. He glanced down, and there she was, as fierce as ever, still standing by his side. Unflinching. He wanted to squeeze her fingers back, but he couldn’t feel his anymore.

Viperion dropped in last and briefly surveyed the room. “Should I…?” He touched two fingers to his bracelet.

“No,” Chat Noir said. His voice sounded a million miles away, as though someone else were speaking. “I need to know this. And I need to see this to be sure. My father…is…”

“Hawk Moth,” Ladybug said. “Viperion, Koira, Ryuuko, see if you can find Queen Bee. We’ll join you in a minute.”

The three of them nodded and split to tackle the room in different directions.

“Talk to me,” Ladybug said. He recognized it as a request from his partner, who needed to know if he could still be relied on.

So he reached for that confidence, that surety that had never failed him. Of course he could be counted on for this. Of course he would never let her down.

Instead, he laughed. It started as a short giggle, but once he heard it, he couldn’t stop, doubling over at the waist, tears streaming from his eyes as he laughed and laughed and laughed.

Through his fit, Ladybug didn’t let go of his hand.

In the dim recesses of the room, they heard Koira shout: he’d found Chloe. Chat Noir laughed harder: his father had really upgraded to hostages.

“What…are…the odds…?” he finally gasped, straightening in fits and starts. “The whole time…the whole time!” And just like that, it wasn’t funny anymore. He’d known things would get worse before they could get better. He just hadn’t anticipated how much worse, or how personally.

He didn’t see the akuma coming. There were so many of them in the room, it was no wonder. He only felt it as it sank into the bell at his throat.

One second they were standing there as unbridled rage poured through Chat Noir.

The next second, it felt as though someone had grabbed hold of that rage with two hands and yanked. Suddenly, he was choking on it.

Ladybug had started talking, unaware of what had just happened, but it wasn’t her voice he heard.

“So you finally found me, hm? Unexpected…but not unwelcome.”

The rage had taken on a life of its’ own, seizing Chat Noir in away he couldn’t understand or see past. Only one thought remained, nearly destroyed by the tidal wave: Hawk Moth couldn’t know.

“What can’t I know, Chat Noir?” the voice came again. “Your identity? Or perhaps hers…?”

“Hate…you…” Chat Noir thought back viciously. He wrestled for control, but it was no use. There was no way out of the emotions Hawk Moth had whipped up in him.

“Mmm, yes, I can feel that,” came Hawk Moth’s reply. “I’ll let you have your shot at me, boy - if you bring me Ladybug’s Miraculous.”

And Chat Noir wanted to. He was tired. He was tired of fighting. He was tired of fighting monster after monster, just for things to stay the same. He was tired of being lied to. And he was tired of letting Hawk Moth dictate the game.

Which was why he finally gave in.

“Yes.”

[riskofmobilemessengers]

Kids and Screen Time: The Stats, the Risks, and Parent Tips, Too

Fortune specialist Mark Koba as of late detailed that adventure financing for instruction innovation hit the $1.87 billion imprint in 2014 and will doubtlessly reach $2 billion this year-a a significant increment more than the $385 million went through five years prior. In the meantime, our government-funded schools spend more than $3 billion consistently on gadgets and have effectively given about 20% of understudies a PC.

Normally, guardians are becoming tied up with the frenzy, as well - however it may really be an ideal opportunity to hit the interruption button, all things considered. That is on the grounds that a new Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) investigation discovered that we're really not getting all that amount bang for our bucks.

Its main concern end: Schools that have put big-time in innovation have seen no observable improvement in outcomes on the Program for International Student Assessment, otherwise known as PISA. This is the case in math, yet in perusing and science, as well. Additionally, in nations like China, South Korea, and Singapore which limit PC use, understudies outperform their more tech-put peers in nations like the United States.

At the end of the day, says NPR's John O'Connor: "The additional time understudies spend online in school, the more terrible they do. Understudies with moderate innovation utilize performed best on global tests."

By the by, the tech shopping binges go unabated. Truth be told, a 2015 "Class kickoff Consumer Pulse Poll" of guardians found that:

72% expected to repurchase to-school tech

38% expected to purchase tech to address study hall issues or necessities

By and large, $390 on class kickoff tech alone, with half of them saying they effectively own a tablet. Another 44% were getting one this time around.

Such discoveries incited writer and specialist Jenny Shank to express, "I don't fault instructors for having the children practice test-taking and composing educators are under a ton of pressing factor with the Common Core tests, and they are attempting to ensure each child is OK with PCs. However, at home, I can decide to turn off my children."

What's more, it's looking like a greater amount of us ought to take cues from her considering a new Pew Research Center overview that found that:

Almost 75% of our 13-to 17-year-olds have a cell phone or admittance to one;

24% of our teens report going on the web "continually;"

92% of teenagers report going on the web each day;

56% of teenagers go online a few times each day.

Besides, an examination in Pediatrics discovered "practically all-inclusive openness, early reception, and utilization of cell phones among small kids, and...

97% of the families own a TV

97% said their kids utilized a type of cell phone, the majority of them beginning before their first birthday celebrations

75% of their kids approached some kind of "shrewd" cell phone

20% of their 1-year-olds own a tablet PC

28% of 2-year-olds can explore a cell phone with no assistance

21% of 4-year-olds own a gaming console

28% of the guardians said they utilize a cell phone to take care of their kids

In the interim, doesn't #7 on that rundown makes one wonder: Whatever happened to sleep time stories?

Additionally disrupting is a report from Common Sense Media tracked down that over 30% of kids in the U.S. play with cell phones while still in diapers! Simultaneously, the association found that our adolescents go through right around 9 hours consistently with media, with...

66% say they pay attention to music consistently;

58% stare at the TV consistently;

45% utilize web-based media consistently yet just 36% discover they appreciate it "a ton;"

66% text while doing schoolwork, with practically 66% guaranteeing it has no impact on their work's quality or their capacity to examine and learn, in spite of heaps of examination despite what is generally expected.

What's more, in the event that you're pondering, our 8-to 12-year-olds clearly go through right around 6 hours consistently drew in with media, and 62% of them sit in front of the TV consistently.

Enter the American Academy of Pediatrics... Back in 1999, the AAP debilitate all screen time until the age of two-however clearly without much of any result. So presently change is hatching with new suggestions due out sometime in 2016. In all probability, they'll vindicate guardians of a portion of the blame we feel while connecting our children.

Until further notice, however, the AAP suggests:

"That guardians build-up without screen zones at home by ensuring there are no TVs, PCs, or computer games in youngsters' rooms, and by winding down the TV during supper.

Youngsters and teenagers ought to draw in with diversion media for close to a couple of hours out of every day, and that ought to be top-notch content.

Kids should invest energy in the open-air play, perusing, diversions, and utilizing their minds in free play.

TV and other diversion media ought to stay away from for babies and kids under age 2."

It follows up by saying, "A kid's cerebrum grows quickly during the principal years, and small kids learn best by communicating with individuals, not screens."

Goodness, indeed, and in the interim, have almost certainly that media use presents genuine wellbeing dangers to our children. Says Victoria L. Dunckley, M.D., "Kids or youngsters who are 'fired up' and inclined to seethes or on the other hand - who are discouraged and emotionless have gotten stunningly ordinary."

Ask Dr. Johnson: https://askdrjohnson.com/risks-of-mobile-messengers/

She then, at that point proceeds to clarify: "Youngsters' minds are substantially more touchy to hardware use than a large portion of us understand. Truth be told, in opposition to mainstream thinking, it doesn't take a lot of electronic incitement to lose a touchy and as yet creating mind track. Likewise, many guardians erroneously accept that intuitive screen-time-Internet or web-based media use, messaging, messaging, and gaming-isn't destructive particularly contrasted with latent screen-time like staring at the TV. Indeed, intuitive screen time is bound to cause rest, temperament, and intellectual issues, since it's bound to cause hyperarousal and habitual use."

[bdenuf-blog]

The Mayans were misunderstood

The pilot was written by the guys who wrote the original Zombieland movie. They've been trying to get something, anything a sequel, a show off the ground since before the release of the movie. If they wanted to continue the story so badly, why didn't they just Kickstart this bitch? The Kickstarter for the Veronica Mars movie shattered every Kickstarter record on the books, and that was for a movie based on a show that was canceled six years ago because no one watched it.

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[paralleljulieverse]

This week marks the 60th anniversary of Julie Andrews’ wedding to first husband, Tony Walton in May 1959. Here in the Parallel Julieverse, we generally avoid discussing Julie’s private life as we believe it is…well…private. However, the vortex of media attention surrounding stars like Julie means that the divide between public and private isn’t always easy to discern, let alone respect. The torrent of studio PR, interviews, magazine profiles, biographies, gossip columns and candid exposes that saturate our celebrity-obsessed media push the personal lives of stars firmly into the public limelight and, by so doing, make off-screen knowledge as integral to a star's image or ‘persona’ as their on-screen roles and public performances (DeCordova 1990; Jerslev and Mortensen 2018). 

Like most stars, Julie is no stranger to celebrity culture’s constitutive demand for “the public performance of private selves” (Dyer: 15). Even in her earliest years as a budding child star, she was subject to a probing media inquiry into her private family life. In her memoirs Julie recalls how, at age 12 after the opening night of Starlight Roof, members of the press, eager for a story about the new “prima donna in pigtails,” followed her home, taking photographs as she played in her bedroom and “bombarding me with questions” (Andrews: 80). 

While this scrutiny of the private lives of stars is a common aspect of celebrity media at large, it assumes a particularly pronounced form in relation to female stars. Christine Geraghty (2000) observes that longstanding cultural associations “between women and the private sphere of relationships and domesticity” motivate a widespread, even obsessive, media concern with female stars’ off-screen domestic lives in a way that isn’t typically the case for their male counterparts (186). "Stories of love affairs, weddings and divorces” are the default register for pop media representations of female stars, Geraghty notes––a soap opera-like narrative economy that positions female stars as public figures whose cultural legibility, and possibly even value, is tethered to their private roles as wives, mothers, daughters, lovers (ibid).

It is in this context that we can situate Julie’s 1959 wedding to Tony Walton. Dubbed “the show business wedding of the year” (Marlborough and Court: 5), the event was accompanied by an almost frenzied degree of media attention, making headline news in the UK and reported widely via international news-services around the world. It was the culmination of a long gestating "soap opera” that had surrounded the pair’s relationship and been played out in regular instalments across the pages and columns of the Anglo-American celebrity press.

Throughout her all-important Broadway years as Julie made the transition to international stardom in, first, The Boy Friend and, then, My Fair Lady, media commentators were seemingly obsessed with her “off-stage” romantic liaisons. Interviewers routinely quizzed the star about her love life and gossip columnists linked her with a veritable revolving door of suitors, real or otherwise:

“A boy friend? Yes. Julie has one. He’s a twenty-four-year-old Canadian actor she met in England” (Crane, February 1955: 7)

“Julie Andrews, star of The Boy Friend has a new ditto: Dr Stanley Behrman, a young oral surgeon who treats the perils of such belles as Bette Davis and Bobo Rockfeller” (Kilgallen, March 1955: 16)

“The real Boy Friend in pretty Julie Andrews’ life is a TV actor in Toronto. He calls her from there almost every evening” (Kilgallen, April 1955: 30)

“Julie Andrews and Neil McCallum talking marriage” (Sullivan, November 1955: 27C)

By 1956, the young star was already complaining openly that, “People link you and unlink you. They tie you with this person and knot you up with the next one” (Freudenheim, 11-B). 

Here it is worth recalling the extent to which Julie’s star image in this era was invested in one of the most resonant narratives of popular feminine romance and sentimental domesticity: Cinderella. As star of My Fair Lady, a particularly influential iteration of the Cinderella fable –– to say nothing of the whole framing narrative of rags-to-riches, Walton-on-Thames to New York, star-is-born mythology –– Julie emerged in the 1950s as what Maya Cantu (2015) calls “the decade’s Cinderella ideal” (162). And what is Cinderella without a Prince Charming? 

Small surprise, then, that media tongues were set wagging and public hearts fluttering when Tony Walton, Julie’s childhood sweetheart from Walton-on-Thames, came to New York to visit the star during the early run of My Fair Lady in April 1956. Despite Julie’s protestations they were “just friends” (Freudenheim: 11B), the local press quickly cast the pair as leads in a romantic fairy tale: “Julie Andrews, the Fair Lady leading lady, and her betrothed, Tony Walton of London” (Winchell, April 1956: 4). What followed was a two-year saga of “on again-off again” romantic intrigue played out in the gossip pages:

“Julie Andrews and Tony Walton picking the date” (Sullivan, May 1956: 45)

“Julie Andrews, the dazzler of My Fair Lady is delighted by the visit of her best beau, British artist Tony Walton. But she longs for him to find a stage designing job that would keep in the U.S. for a while” (Kilgallen May 1956: 38).

“It’s been denied on this side of the Atlantic, but London’s theatrical set is buzzing with the rumor that Julie Andrews…is secretly married to British Tony Walton” (Kilgallen, November 1956: 14)

“Julie Andrews tells friends she’s fixing up her apartment for two. Could it be that a merger with Tony Walton is closer?” (Walker, February 1957: 39).

“The British newspapers are crowing happily over the fact that, although Julie Andrews has become a big star in the U.S., she isn’t making the mistake of marrying a Yankee. Julie remains true to her British boy-next-door, young Tony Walton” (Kilgallen, April 1957: 16).

“Is there a wedding in the offing for Julie Andrews?…No, said Julie, from New York last night. But her 15-ear-old brother, Donald told me earnestly: ‘She’s going to announce her engagement as soon as she comes home in April’” (Fielding, December 1957: 2)

Widely reported on both sides of the Atlantic –– indeed, it even received international attention as far away as Australia (“She is Broadway’s ‘Fair Lady’”: 3) –– the brewing romantic soap opera reached fever pitch in the lead-up to the much-ballyhooed London opening of My Fair Lady in April 1958. 

No sooner had Julie touched down at London airport than she was grilled by the waiting media scrum about her relationship with Tony. “Julie Andrews…first hour home was spent denying that she will marry as soon as the show opens,” reported the Daily Express, “I have known the boy I want to marry for 12 years, but we shan’t rush to marry yet” (Lambert: 5). The Daily Mirror made the story its front page news with the declarative headline, “I love him! I love him!! I love him!!!”

“Please clear up all those rumours that Tony and I have had a quarrel….All this business about an on-off romance just isn’t true…We have never quarrelled in our lives, and there has been nobody else for either of us since we fell in love two years ago” (Wilcox: 1).

The fact that the pair were childhood sweethearts from the same small Home Counties village –– as cliched a romantic convention as they come –– intensified public interest in their relationship, while at the same time cementing Julie’s popular image at home as “a nice sensible English girl thoroughly unspoiled by fame” (Wiseman: 10; see also, Nathan: 6).

Even Julie herself was not beyond framing her and Tony’s relationship as a somewhat fanciful storybook romance. In her serialised celebrity memoir published in Woman magazine in May 1958 to coincide with her triumphant return to London, the star drew widely from narrative romance tropes and metaphors to describe the “blossoming” of her and Tony’s love. She even ends the memoir with a fairytale climax where, following the grand London opening of My Fair Lady, the couple are depicted waltzing on the floor of the Savoy Hotel like Cinderella and the Prince:

“At midnight, with Mummie, Uncle Charles, and all my darling family about me, I was at the Savoy and, as I danced with Tony, the orchestra started playing the music from My Fair Lady. The floor cleared and Tony and I were left dancing together, dancing, I felt, in a world of all the dreams and ‘One Days’ come true at last” (Andrews 1958: 51).

Thus, when Julie and Tony finally made public their plans to marry, it came like the pre-scripted climax to a very public fairytale romance, the final chapter in the Cinderella narrative through which Julie’s early star image was so throughly cast: 

“Once upon a time there was a spindly-legged, freckle-faced little girl with braces on her teeth named Julie Wells. She lived with her mother and stepfather and brothers and sister in a little house in the country. Of course there was a boy-next-door. The years went by and she grew into a lovely silver-blonde. By this time she was Julie Andrews…She was called ‘the nicest girl in show business.’ And after My Fair Lady she was one of the richest. But like the princesses of fairy tales, riches did not turn her heart from the lad who loved her…Tomorrow they marry in the little village church at Oatlands, Weybridge…They will, undoubtedly, live happily ever after” (Stix: 11).

Sources:

Andrews, Julie. “So Much to Sing About, Part 5.” Woman. 31 May, 1958: 31-35, 48-51.

_____________. Home: A Memoir of My Early Years. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2008. 

Cantu, Maya. American Cinderellas on the Broadway Musical Stage: Imagining the Working Girl from Irene to Gypsy. London: Palgrave MacMillan, 2015.

Cottrell, John. Julie Andrews: The Story of a Star. London: Arthur Barker, 1968.

Crane, Lionel. “Julie, The Broadway Bombshell.” Daily Mirror. 8 February 1955: 7.

DeCordova, Richard. Picture Personalities: The Emergence of the Star System in America. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1990.

Dyer, Richard. Heavenly Bodies: Film Stars and Society. New York: St Martins Press, 1986. 

“Fair Lady Andrews Plans to Marry.” Evening Sun. 6 May 1958: 3.

Fielding, Henry. “Julie’s No.” Daily Herald. 11 December 1957: 2.

Freudenheim, Milt. “American Success Startles British Star Julie Andrews.” Chicago Daily News. 19 April 1956: 11B.

Geraghty, Christine. “Re-examining Stardom: Questions of texts, bodies and performance.” In Gledhill, Christine and Williams, Linda, eds. Reinventing Film Studies. London: Arnold, 2000.

Jerslev, Anne and Mortensen, Mette. "Celebrity in the Social Media Age: Renegotiating the Public and the Private.” In Elliott, Anthony, ed. Routledge Handbook of Celebrity Studies. London: Routledge, 2018.

Killgallen, Dorothy. “Broadway Grapevine.” Star-Gazette. 15 March 1955: 16.

Killgallen, Dorothy. “Broadway Grapevine.” Star-Gazette. 7 April 1955: 36.

Killgallen, Dorothy. “Voice of Broadway.” Star-Gazette. 10 May 1956: 38.

Killgallen, Dorothy. “Voice of Broadway.” Star-Gazette. 12 November 1956: 14.

Killgallen, Dorothy. “Voice of Broadway.” Star-Gazette. 12 April 1957: 16.

Lambert, John. “Fair Lady Julie is Home––Marriage? Not Yet.” Daily Express. 7 April 1958: 5.

Lowe, Shirley. “The Boy Friend’s Girl Friend’s Great-Grandmother.” Daily Express. 4 October 1955: 3.

Marlborough, Douglas and Court, Monty. “PictureMail Goes to the Stage Wedding of the Year.” Daily Mail. 11 May 1959: 5.

Nathan, David. “The Last Time I Saw Julie.” Daily Herald. 8 April 1958: 6.

“She is Broadway’s ‘Fair Lady’.” The Sydney Morning Herald. ‘Women’s Section.’ 5 July 1956: 3.

Stix, Harriet. “Rich-Girl Julie Weds Boy Next Door.” Daily Express. 9 May 1959: 11.

Sullivan. Ed. “Little Old New York.” Daily News. 4 November 1955: 27C.

Sullivan. Ed. “Little Old New York.” Daily News. 7 May 1956: 45.

Walker, Danton. “Broadway.” Daily News. 25 February 1957: 39.

Wilcox, Dennis. “I Love Him! Says Julie Andrews” Daily Mirror. 7 April 1958: 1. 

Wilson, Cecil. “Pocket Money Star Stops the Show.” Daily Mail. 24 October 1947: 3.

Winchell, Walter. “On Broadway.” The Post-Star. 26 April 1956: 4.

Winchell, Walter. “Broadway Cinderellas.” Daily Times. 25 June 1956: 4A.

Wiseman, Thomas. “Has Success Spoiled Julie Andrews?” Evening Chronicle. 17 April 1958: 10.

© 2019 Brett Farmer All Rights Reserved

[hookaroo]

Vocivore, Ltd. (29 of 40?)

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @sancocnutclub, @killianjonesownsmyheart1, and @courtorderedcake <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE!!!!!******

***Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!!**********

***LETHAL Chapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************

**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**

****KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!!!!!!!!!!    CHAPTER 1 ART THAT KILLS ME EVERY TIME I SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*********

*****AMAZING AND ALSO HEARTBREAKING COVER ART!!!!! MY POOR BOY, HELPLESS AND SCREAMING WHILE HE SLOWLY LOSES HIS GRIP ON REALITY… D: COCOHOOK38 IS TRYING TO KILL US ALL!!!!*************

***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***

AN: Sorry for the longer wait this time! I've had an increase in work hours, which might necessitate slower updates from now on.

I decided to skip the "Killian meets Z" chapter because it's mostly just a repeat of everything we know already. I may post it later as a deleted scene, but for now, we're moving forward with the story!

Present (Friday, continued)...

"Crap."

Emma shot to her feet, the chair screeching back from the table as if sharing in her distress. Startled, Jones rose as well, though much more stiffly.

"Emma? What's wrong?"

"It's now; he's… come on."

She raced up the stairs with Jones following as best he could. Past bedrooms, a guest bathroom, and to a padlocked door at the end of the hallway. Emma fumbled with a set of keys, explaining,

"I think Killian is heading for wherever the monster controls the security cameras from. He's going to enact the plan today."

She opened the padlock and yanked the door open. Inside was a table laden with multiple laptops and two desktop computers, all of which seemed to be connected together via masses of coiled cables. As Emma frenzied among the mess, Jones asked,

"What's all this?"

"Borrowed some equipment. From friends… and possibly from Evidence at the station." She seemed relieved when Jones didn't comment. "I hacked into all the security cameras around town, or those connected to the internet, at least. I figured that's what the Master does, and it would probably be more effective to change the feed than to, like, hold a screen in front of the camera or something."

"Hold… a screen…?" The detective's confusion was clear, but Emma was too focused to explain. Deciding to trust in her expertise, most likely gained online during one of her many sleepless night recently, Jones watched for a moment as she continued booting up each computer. Then, impressed and a tiny bit disbelieving, he asked,

"What can I do to help?"

3 weeks, 4 days ago…

His third day a slave, Killian thought he was getting off easy. That is, as far as 'no additional injuries on top of those earned during his first 48 hours' easy. Maybe the two beatings the day before--one for neglecting to attach the provided chain to his collar overnight and the second as part of a 'Session' with the Master--had bought him a day's respite. It was nearing evening, and no one had appeared in the stall entrance to disturb his attempts at rest. A blessing, to be sure; every single inch of him hurt in some way or another, and Killian was not certain he would survive further violence.

As soon as that grim thought crossed his mind, a slave escort appeared. The withered man had no buckets in hand, which could only mean one thing. Killian stifled anxious qualms and began his mantra. Hope kidnapped, Hope tortured, Hope dead. That Killian was desperate. That Killian could obey the summons, could face more torture for the sake of a chance at gleaning any information on his little girl.

That Killian struggled to his feet, joints creaking audibly, dozens of knotted threads pulling tight within his flesh. The slave was impassive as he unlocked Killian's chain and then exited the stall, obviously expecting the pirate to follow. Killian pictured Hope's blood as he forced aching limbs into a mechanical, unsteady gait. Each step awakened a new anguish, in a different place each time. Despite his best efforts, dread soon had his pulse racing beneath swollen, bruised, and torn skin, doubling the throb, intensifying the quaking. What would it be this time? How long before he would scream?

He somehow made it to the church. And there the reluctance became almost a physical barrier blocking his entrance, and he only overcame it with sheer courage, virtually throwing himself inside.

Killian had not anticipated seeing Z standing within, beside the Master, near the altar. His foreboding quadrupled, and it was almost enough to send him lurching back the way he'd come in search of two more minutes of safety. Her presence could in no way signify anything good.

The charade. Cling to the charade.

"Master, please…" He cleared his throat, staggered closer, swimming through pools of red-shifted stained glass patterns on the floor. "My daughter… we had a deal."

Wearing an indulgent smile, the Master curled a tentacle, waving Killian onward. "Good evening, Tripod."

COME TO YOUR MASTER.

Killian stumbled on an uneven paving stone. "At least tell me if she's okay."

"Let's see how well you please me tonight."

Killian stopped at the foot of the stairs, out of the Master's reach. He cast a glance at Z, who was standing still, eyes fixed on the tilted surface of the broken altar. Killian caught a glimpse of metal, a flash of candlelight off of something sharp. He shuddered in apprehension.

"H… how can I be of service, Master?"

"Come join us." The Master indicated a spot on the floor at the altar's edge, between itself and the taciturn Z. Killian drew a calming, painful breath and then hauled himself up, one step at a time, wincing as the exertion aggravated barely contained injuries. He couldn't help cringing away from the Master's welcoming tentacle, which found him anyway, wrapping itself around his left forearm. The creature's clawed hand patted Killian's shoulder.

"I feel your fear, Tripod, and savor it. I will be honest with you: it is justified. I anticipate an unprecedented opportunity for you to serve me tonight."

Jaw tense, Killian avoided looking at Z's collection of implements on the altar. The Master noticed, and it chuckled.

"I have invited Z to dinner. I hope you don't mind."

"Whatever pleases my Master," Killian managed, his voice barely above a whisper. The Master ruffled its claws through his hair.

"Good little Tripod."

Tenderly, it guided him closer to the altar, until he stood leaning against it. The slanted surface came up to his breastbone, radiating cold from metallic decorations. The top was polished wood, and he could make out the dents and dings of age, as well as crusted dribbles of candle wax. His thighs pressed against a protruding design of intricate copper, sending a shiver up his spine. The restraining tentacle lifted his arm; he tried not to resist despite the sudden stab of panic.

"Yes," hissed the Master in his ear. "That's it."

It stretched Killian's arm forward and then allowed it to rest on the tabletop, making a slight adjustment to the angle so that, if Killian had still possessed a hand, his pinkie would have been contacting the surface, with the thumb above. He felt the crab-like pincer take position behind his elbow, adding to the restraint already provided by the tentacle. The Master clattered forward and pressed its thorax against his back. Its wrinkle-free waistcoat itched as it pinned him in place.

Killian could not even make a fist in reaction to his tension; the fresh brand still boiled with any movement of his thumb. His fingers twitched anyway as the Master's second tentacle snaked around that arm as well.

"Z and I have devised a gift for you," purred the Master. "To accommodate your deformity. It will require some precision, though… so do try and hold still, for your own good."

Wheezing rapid breaths, feeling the heat of adrenaline in his limbs, Killian could only watch as Z shuffled closer and balanced her tools within reach. She stood off to his right, at the narrow end of the altar.

"Z, let him see the device."

The silent woman held up a metal shape, something like a half-circle made of slender rods about the thickness of a ballpoint pen, maybe slightly more. There were, in fact, two separate pieces: a straight one, which tapered down to a wicked point, and then a long curve, of which one end was joined to the thicker end of the straight piece. The attachment point was two interlocking rings, so that the curve could twist and rotate all the way around the central line. The other, tapered end had a small hole drilled through it, and Killian surmised that there was some way to attach the currently free-floating curve's edge as well to make a continuous frame of metal. What he could not--or, perhaps, dared not--fathom was its purpose.

No spray bottle of disinfectant here. This time, it was straight iodine, poured from a beaker directly onto his outstretched wrist. The brown liquid streamed down the tilted tabletop like bloodstains, hearkening back to the altar's original purpose. Z drenched a cloth in the iodine and began to scrub roughly at the apex of Killian's captive wrist, then its base. And some instinctive part of him grasped the intent, even if his reasoning was slow to catch on. He lurched backward into the solid presence behind, an incomprehensible, pleading whine sounding from his throat. The Master tightened its grip, though it was in no danger of losing it.

Z continued her abrasive disinfection even as Killian struggled. Both sides of his scarred wrist now sported a bright and ominous yellow.

"Relax now, Tripod. You're being given a tremendous opportunity to serve me with your screams. You should not fight it."

He couldn't do this. Whatever had possessed him to think this scheme was in any way achievable? He took it all back. He had to escape, to save his own skin like the cowardly pirate he'd always been… He… he had to…

"Please… no…"

It was already too late. There was no escape. He was trapped in place, his Master's bulk crushing him against the table, both arms in a vise grip while tears of dread stained his face. The best he could hope for now was a quick death, because he certainly would not survive further mutilation of his… oh, gods, was that a hammer?

Another terrible thought struck as Z lay his arm back into position. Something that had inexplicably escaped his awareness during these past two days of torture: Emma was listening. She would hear the whole thing.

"I'm sorry… Swan…" The last word was cut off by an involuntary sob. The spike's tip pressed against his flesh, sharp and cold. Killian could only breathe in short, frantic little gasps, still thrashing in his Master's grip, but tiring rapidly. The hammer hovered, went through the motions without actually touching its target. A practice swing. Killian was trembling so badly that the precariously balanced set of tools rattled on the altar's surface.

Then it crashed down for real. Driving metal through skin and muscle into bone. Killian's first startled yelp was more of shock than true pain, as it took a second for his brain to catch up. Into the erupting fireball, the hammer fell again.

It was the Dark One, taking his hand with his own blade.

It was the clumsy efforts of Smee and the crew, trying to stop the bleeding and save his wretched life.

It was the dying stump, ballooned and pulsing with infection.

It was the first time he'd donned the hook over the raw flesh, the first time he'd bumped it against some obstruction, the first time he'd fallen on it.

The first time he'd killed with it.

Already, he had screamed himself hoarse, the Master moaning in ecstasy behind him, but the blows continued like lightning bolts, illuminating phantoms so bright that surely he must have a hand there after all.

Off target, the hammer slipped and smashed into blueberry flesh, and the stake jolted sideways with a crunch, and Killian felt himself falling until he was caught by the collar and splashed with water while the hammer lay dormant, and he couldn't even make sense of words he knew he should recognize because his only focus could be the searing cold metal driven halfway through his wrist.

The hammer resumed its grisly task while Killian's cries grew feebler. He drifted in a haze of anguish, half-fainting, shocks of pain sizzling up his arm. His dead weight sagged against the exultant Master behind him as the whole church seemed to spin on an axis.

Killian didn't feel a difference when the spike broke through the skin on the pinkie side of his wrist. The only clue was a minor change in sound: the metal had entered the wood of the altar. One more blow, one more wooden thunk, and Z lay the hammer aside.

And then she yanked upward on his tormented arm, and Killian gave voice to one more noiseless cry as the impaling device shifted inside him before squeaking free of the altar.

His eyes were closed and nothing could make him open them to see the ghastly damage. Even when Z began manipulating the attached ring, pulling brutally and drawing more tears of pain, he kept them squeezed shut. His hand, too, remained balled into an unyielding fist despite negligible protests from his branded palm.

This was it. This was his life now. He would never again feel happiness. Contentment. A moment free of pain. Forevermore, his existence would consist of blazing agony.

There was an audible snap as the free corner of the ring found its bloodstained attachment point. The straight post shifted again, Killian whimpered once and dove headfirst into black oblivion.

This time, the Master let him fall.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

COTW 16? Update

Despite being pregnant, Eren's body had tried to send him into heat. They'd talked a little over the photographs, until Eren had shut down, murmuring that he needed to testify, before leaving the dining room table. His mate taking himself to bed, locking himself away, and leaving Levi with a sick sense of worry as he left for work again. Eren still locked away when he came home, and wasn't up come morning. He knew Eren would take care of Viren, but with his specialist appointment the following day, he didn't want the omega under any unnecessary stress, so called Hanji. Hanji happy to take Viren for the night, which would give Eren some space to breathe and prepare himself. When he came home from work that night, Eren came striding out. He didn't pause before pushing his lips to Levi's, growling into his mouth as he tried to pull him closer. Led into Eren's room, his mate was almost frenzied he pushed him into nest and begged him to mount him. Levi tried to be gentle, yet after cleaning him up, he'd been stuck with simmering desire in the base of his stomach. Eren didn't really want this, he knew that, but his mate wouldn't take no for an answer. Leaving him alone in his room Levi fled back to their room, closing the door and sitting with his back to it as Eren started pounding against it, sobbing for him. He wanted to cave in, and to soothe his mate until he was purring mess, but that wasn't what Eren really needed right now. It was a small eternity before Eren finally stopped knocking, Levi wrecked with guilt over doing the responsible adult thing. He could have given in. He wanted to give in, but they'd talked about it. Eren wasn't ready and he respected his omega's wishes... even if they really fucking sucked. Falling asleep against the door, he woke with a stiff back and a crink in his neck. Fuck. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He'd supposed to just stay there until Eren went to his room, then he was supposed to check in with his omega. Dragging himself off the floor, he felt revolting. His clothes stuck to him with sweat, and in all the wrong places. Shit. Today was going to be hard enough without him looking like shit. He needed a shower, and roughly 12 extra strong cups of tea. Eren's door was closed, so Levi showered first. He didn't want to wake his mate, only to abandon him again. Trying the handle, his mate's door was unlocked. Eren's bed has been transformed into a lavish nest, with all of his blankets and pillows gathered, and though wrecked, it was clear he'd taken his time to thoroughly prepare it. Amidst the messof blankets, Eren's hair was poking out. A mess he itched to straighten up for him, but he didn't dare. He knew better than to violate the sanctity of his mate's nest. Instead he sat on the edge of it, not entering without being invited. Shaking Eren's shoulder, he woke his love, Eren trying to hide in his blankets with a long groan. He reaching out, Eren snaked an arm around his waist "Eren, we have to get up" "Noooo. Sleepy" "Your appointment's today" "I'm not moving" Clinging to him tightly, it seemed Eren didn't want him moving either "Eren, I know you don't want to move, but if you don't want to go to your appointment covered in slick and cum, you kind of have to" His words caused Eren to release him, his omega shifting back from his a scent filling with guilt as he pulled his blanket down over his face "Shhh... hey. It's ok" "I... fuck... heat" "As eloquent as always, but yes, your body tried to send you into heat" "I'm sorry" "No. It's ok. But are you ok?" "I feel wrecked" "Are you mad?" "No... I probably would have been feeling even worse... uh. Thank you" "I've already had a shower, so take your time. I'll make breakfast" "Am I allowed to eat?" Levi drew his brow in confusion "Why wouldn't you be?" "I don't know how these appointments work" "Today we meet with the specialist and then we'll discuss our options. They won't be doing anything today" "Are you sure?" "I'm sure. Are you coming out of your nest?" "I don't want to move. I'm beached" "I'm not coming in there to pull you out. This is your nest" "I think I'm literally beached... I have the stuck. Just leave me here" "I'm not leaving you in here" "Fiiiine. You're going to have to leave though. Things under here are a mess" "Ok. Just call out for me if you need help" "Mmm... ok..." "I love you " Coming out the bathroom in time for their scrambled eggs to be fresh from the pan, his mate had looked lost as he gazed across the apartment "Where's Viren?" "He's with Hanji. I thought you could use the rest before today, and we'll pick him up on the way home" "Oh..." "I thought you could use the rest" "You said... it's... I miss him" "It's only for a few hours, then we'll pick him up. I don't have to go in until after your appointment" "Are you sure? I could go alone" "You're not going alone. You're my mate and they're our children. I'm going to be holding your hand every step of the way" "Are you sure you really want to see them? It... doesn't look great" "I've seen the scans Eren. I know what we've gotten into and we'll figure out what's best for our pups. Why don't you sit? I'll bring breakfast over to you" Eren looked slightly guilty as he curled up on the recliner. Titan coming running to him, the cat had been in Viren's room "I don't like not sitting at the dining table. It doesn't feel right" "When I get a day off, we'll all go together and choice something. We need to start picking up things for the pups" "I... think we should wait" "Why?" This wasn't going to turn out like the whole wedding fiasco was it? I still wanted to marry Eren, but the trial had driven it from his mind. Though it was a little surprising that Eren hadn't found the ring yet, given the amount of cleaning he liked to do "In case they make me abort" "No can make you abort" "I'm an omega. They can literally force me to" "And I'm telling you they can't" Carrying his breakfast over, Levi snagged the coffee table with foot to pull it closer to Eren, before placing it down and lifting Titan from Eren's hold "Good god, you've got fat" "He's not fat. He's fluffy" "Then we need to start shaving him and selling his fur off" "He's perfect as he is" "He's a fatty. I bet the moment I place him down, he's going to run for his food" "I'm not taking that bet. I wish the hardest part of my day was jumping on the kitchen counter" "No one is stopping you from jumping on the kitchen counter" "That seems like effort. If I jump on the counter, do I still have to go?" "You do... its better to know everything than just worrying about it" "I hate when you're right" "I know, now eat your breakfast then we'll head in" * Eren fell silent as they sat in the waiting room. They'd been sent for an ultrasound, which Eren hadn't been able to handle. His omega had taken one look at their pups, then closed his eyes as silent tears formed. The tumour had clearly grown, though both pups were still alive. Both their little heartbeats filled the room, sent Eren into a meltdown. His hold on his hand grew limp, Eren turning his face from the direction of the screen, while the woman performing the scan tried to reassure them that Eren was in good hands, and offered her sympathy over what they were going through. He supposed he could understand that Eren didn't want to get more attached to them, when he could lost them, but he knew it was too late for Eren to putting those particular walls up. His mate loved the pups, just as much as he did. In the end, his fiancée kept his eyes closed until the technician finally wiped gel off his stomach and they were sent back up to the fourth floor to wait. Like everything in life, the wait is usually worse than the actual appointment. Holding Eren's hand, he pressed kisses to the back of it, having realised that Eren was going to be answering any of questions any time soon. By the time Eren's name was called, they'd already been waiting for over an hour. Eren had been to the bathroom twice in that time, returning and looking paler each time he did. His scent was verging on panic, leaving all the alphas on edge as Levi led him over to the man that had called them through. They'd both thought they'd be taken into the consultation room, but instead, Eren's vitals were taken, as was his previous medical history and the complications during his first pregnancy. Levi was left to answer, while Eren stared down at his stomach. Once the short examination was over, they were sent back to the waiting room for another half an hour long wait. This time when Eren's name was called, his fiancée's knees gave out when he stood. Looping his arm around Eren's waist, Levi kept him propped up until Eren finally took a small step "I'm here. I've got you" Giving a curt nod, the pair of them made their way back into the hall they'd followed the nurse into before. This time, they were led past the nurses office, then another four doors down. Sitting behind her desk, the specialist was already waiting. The woman was on the youthful side of old. The roots of her hair were peppered with grey hairs, while her face was relatively wrinkle free. Rising from behind her desk, she gestured to the two chairs in front of it "Hello, I'm Doctor Reed. Please take a seat" Levi moved his chair closer to Eren's, his mate sitting down and immediately trying to curl into himself. Placing his hand on Eren's thigh, he squeezed softly "So. Which one of you is Eren?" Eren didn't get the joke, raising his hand slightly to indicate he was "Sorry. Just a little humour. Now, I understand this is your second pregnancy, and you've also suffered through a partial miscarriage. It's my job to make sure this little pup lives to meet his parents, and I'm going to my very best to make that happen. I can't make any promises, and I won't. Not all pups survive this, and not all mothers survive the birth. Now that I've got the scary talk out the way, I'm going to have give you a quick examination, then we'll talk about your options. Are you able to hop up on that examination table for me?" Reed smiled at them, while Eren looked to him "It's ok. I'm not going anywhere" "I wouldn't dream of asking your alpha to leave, and I promise all I wish to examine is your stomach" She was good with him. Levi was quietly impressed by her soothing tone. He supposed this wasn't her first dance "See. I'm not going anywhere" Nodding his consent, Levi fussed over Eren as he walked over to the examination table, Levi helping him up "Excellent" Snapping on a pair of blue plastic gloves, the woman moved to Eren's side "Let me know if you feel any discomfort, pain or pressure" Nodding, Eren squeezed his hand. There were a couple of times that Eren whispered "there", but the woman didn't look terribly phased by it. She was still smiling as she stripped off her gloves "Alright. I hope that wasn't terrible. You can take a seat again, take your time to gather your feet under you" Mumbling a thanks, Levi "helped" Eren off the table and back to sit. Washing her hands and retaking her seat, she opened the file marked with Eren's name "Now. You're 20 weeks along... ok. Right. I see... Eren are you able to provide me with a full medical history? I'd like to hear it from you" Eren looked to him with pleading eyes "Eren has high anxiety levels. I know his medical history, so would you mind if I filled you in?" "Eren, do you mind if Levi speaks on your behalf?" "He... can say it better" "Alright, Eren. Levi, if you will" Starting with Eren's unpredictable heats, Levi hoped Eren didn't mind him getting too personal. It was for the good of their pup that the woman knew as many details as possible. As the talked, she took a few notes, flicking between pages in Eren's file as she did. The whole time Levi was talking, he was wishing she'd explain what she saw on the scan. Eren was one long moment away from breaking down, but it didn't stop her from making them wait another small eternity once he'd finished explaining everything, though he had left Eren's trip to Karanes out of it... the realisation that his mate's life, and the life of the pups, was in the hands of a woman he knew nothing about set his alpha on edge, causing him to grind his teeth before catching himself doing so "Ok. Now, have you been told what a Sacrococcygeal teratomas is?" "We have..." "Basically it's a big tumour right here... at the base of the spine" Taking a pen and piece of paper, she drew a very rough diagram, pointing to an alarmingly big sac "There are four types of tumour. Looking at your scans, I would be inclined to agree it's a type one, but there is only so much we can see in a scan. When you admitted into hospital, the growth measured 11 millimetres, which is a fair size for a pup so small, the grown now measures a little over 15 millimetres, so it's still growing" Looking down to her file, she flicked through a few pages "The biopsy results show the tumour to benign, which is a good thing" Flicking back through her pages, Levi resisted the urge to rip the file from her hands as she did "I see an abortion was recommended" "He's not having an abortion" "Eren can speak for himself. As I was saying, I see an abortion was recommended, and I can see why. At the moment, that pup is trying his hardest to grow, but with the rich blood supply of the tumour, more energy is going to the tumour, causing his heart to work even harder to keep up with it. Heart failure is common in cases like this, as is the risk of miscarriage and early labour. There has already been a thickening his placenta, as well as signs of excess fluid. It's going to be a hard pregnancy, but if we can get you through to your 30th week, I believe you all have an excellent chance. Of course, a caesarean will be necessary, followed by surgery immediately following birth. There are other things we can do, but for now, waiting is the best option. They're still a little too young for me to be recommending the surgery route. You also need to be prepared to abort. I know you don't want an abortion, and I know it's a difficult decision, but there is only a finite amount of space in Eren's womb, the tumour may only be on pup, but it may lead to complications with the second" 30 weeks seemed like a life time... especially when Eren was having so much trouble already... now the choice to continue the pregnancy could cost them both pups... He... what the hell was he supposed to say to that. A risk of miscarriage. A risk of early labour. A risk of losing both pups and a risk of losing Eren. His tiny world they'd made together was shattering around him. His alpha was urging him to grab Eren and to flee before the woman could drop any more bad news on their lap. After a few moments, Levi found his voice again. Eren had said he needed to testify after looking at the photos, but after hearing all of that, he couldn't let him. He wanted to lock him in their apartment and never let him out "Eren has been called to give evidence in a trial. Will he be able to do that?" "I certainly wouldn't recommend it. Pregnancy is hard enough, a pregnancy with complications more so. Too much stress on you and your pups could lead to all kinds of complications" "Are you able to write us a recommendation that he doesn't take the stand? The officer in charge of the case will only take a statement from an impartial physician" "One look at his current medical state should tell any trained professional that he is not in the right frame of being to be giving a testimony" "Unfortunately they tend to hold the fact that Eren is an omega over him" Moving back to the first page of Eren's file, Reed read as she spoke "Yes. That is unfortunate. Now. Eren, we will be monitoring the tumour growth over the coming weeks. As I work on a rotation basis, I'll schedule you in for 4 weeks from today. 4 millimetres is a fair amount of growth, despite being so small to us. I want you to have another ultrasound in two weeks time, then a 3-dimensional ultrasound before you come to see me again. If you begin experiencing pain or bleeding, do not ignore it. You may still have sex, you no doubt by now feel effects of pregnancy, and the scent of a heat lingers on you. If we are forced to perform an emergency caesarean, or surgery upon the pup, it will take time to heal, so for now, make the most of being able to be intimate with your partner" Eren blushed beautifully at her words "Eren has always had unconventional heats. With the stress attempting to send him into heat, will it harm the pups" "An omegas heat is dependent on their mood, as well as their biology. It is important to make sure he feels comfortable and safe, a heat out of synch means they're crying out for comfort. Nesting will help, so nest as much as you like. There's absolutely no detrimental effects from nesting. There are mood stabilisers that can be prescribed, but there is a chance of side effects which may accelerate tumour growth. If the stress and pressure get to be too much, I would recommend talking to your normal physician about it. Long term use of sedatives are not recommended due to their addictive nature" He knew that all too well. That's part of the reason he hated dosing Eren unless completely necessary "Then for now, we just wait?" "I know it's a hard thing to do. But you're in this together" Turning to her laptop that was pushed to the side, Reed fell silent as she tapped away on the keyboard. Whatever she was doing, only took a few moments to finish before she printed it. Signing in multiple places, she passed the small tree over to him "One letter. I've listed the medical history you provided to our intake nurse, as well as my own conclusions from your scans, Eren. Computers are marvellous like that. Whether you use it is up to you. I strongly believe Eren should not take the stand in his current condition" Pushing her chair back, the woman rounded her desk as she bristly walked towards the door. Levi and Eren both standing to move towards the door of the room, Eren's hand firmly in his as they did "It was lovely to meet both of you" "You too. And thank you for seeing us" "And I'll you both again in four weeks time" Eren was glued to his side as they walked through the hospital and down to Levi's RangeRover. Standing beside the passenger door, Eren didn't seem to want to let him go. Raising Eren's hand to kiss the back of it, his omega let out a soft sigh "It was a lot" "It was more than a lot. I... I didn't know the other pup could be affected" "That's a worse case scenario" "Why is this happening?" A kiss on the back of the hand wasn't going to cut it. Pulling Eren into a hug, he nuzzled into his omega's neck. Eren was so very confused "I don't know. But for now, we wait" "I don't want to wait. I want the pup to be ok" "You heard what she said, they're still a little too small for surgery right now" "I don't care... they're hurting and I can't do anything" "You're doing plenty" "God. This was so much easier before I knew it was twins... before I knew it was... it was supposed to be more than twins" Eren's voice was cracking with emotions, yet as his mate began to nuzzle him back, he felt no tears "Don't give up on them yet. If they're anything like you, they'll be as stubborn as hell" "You always say I'm stubborn about all the wrong things" "Wanna know a secret? You might be stubborn as hell and drive me up the wall from time to time, but I love that stubborn streak of yours. It makes me so fucking proud that you dig your heels in, or you fight for what you believe is right" "So the next time you tell me off for being stubborn, I can ignore you" "No. That's why it's called a secret, you're not supposed to know" Eren kissed the crook of his neck "It's a good secret. I'll let you keep it. I've got one of my own" Levi was sure if he looked inside Eren's brain, he wouldn't find just one secret in there "Oh? What is that?" "I love you, Lee. And I love winding you up" "I knew it!" "Mmm. But don't tell Levi I told you" "Pfft. Like I'd do that. I love you too, Eren. Let's drop this letter into Floch, then pick up our son" "I miss him" "I know you do. I'm sorry I can't stay this afternoon" "It's alright. Work is important" "And yet, I would rather be here with you" "She said I need to be more affectionate" "You're affectionate enough" "If I was, I wouldn't be trying to go into heat. Maybe you should just force yourself on..." "I am not going to force myself on you. You my mate, not just some I sleep with. We'll start slow. Cuddles on the sofa. Sleeping next to each other. That kind of thing" "I know I smell good to you" "Then I'll jerk off. You're too important to me" "And what am I supposed to do?" "Do about what?" "When I'm..." "Oh. When you're horny?..." Slipping his hands down to Eren's arse, Levi gave a firm squeeze "You think of me" "Don't I always? What I mean is... I want to be able to touch you too. As it is, I owe you two hand jobs in the shower" "You don't owe me anything, but if you really want to make it up to me... I know how you can do that" "How?" "Give me a kiss and we'll call it even" Eren kissed his shoulder "There" "I had that coming, didn't I?" "Mmm, maybe a little. Let's go get Viren. I really want to hold him" "Do I get another kiss?" Eren kissed his shoulder again "You're a shit" "So you tell me" Pulling back from Eren's neck, Eren had a soft smile on his lips. Leaning in, Levi was finally given his kiss. A real kiss, and the deepest one they'd shared for days. Breaking the kiss, his omega pushed him back "We need to pick our son up, and I am not going anywhere near Floch, not anymore than I have to" "That's fine with me"

[tinymixtapes]

Live Blog: LCD Soundsystem

LCD Soundsystem Hollywood Palladium; Los Angeles, CA [11-18-2017] by Sam Goldner on 12-19-2017 To put it in James Murphy’s terms, I was there. I remember the day that LCD Soundsystem announced their tenure as a band would be coming to an end, that after three albums they had decided to put a cap on what I thought at the time was one of the most legendary runs in modern rock music. I remember trying to buy tickets for the final Madison Square Garden show, only to be thwarted by one of the most insane scalping-bot buyouts I have seen to this day. I remember the relief that washed over me when Murphy announced there would be a string of Terminal 5 shows the week before, all comprising the same three-hour, career-spanning setlist, and I remember buying my ticket and taking the bus from Boston to New York to say goodbye to one of my favorite bands. The LCD Soundsystem reunion has, to put it lightly, caused me a great deal of self-reckoning and re-evaluation, and James Murphy knows this. His post-announcement apology to the fans that he let down by reuniting was, if anything, a testament to the idea that Murphy remains a fanboy-as-rock-star, as close to being “one of us” as it gets when we’re talking about the constantly satellite position of being a nerdy record collector. It was that embodiment of the outsider-looking-in that drew me to LCD Soundsystem’s music in the first place, but in the five years that passed in the band’s absence, my perspective on their music changed. Where before, it felt exciting to listen to a group of artists whose observer’s stance in music felt in tandem with my own, now it seemed strangely embarrassing to listen to a song in which a 32-year-old man lists off all the obscure bands he likes in an attempt to reclaim his “edge” (and its supposed irony only made it worse). What I had begun to realize since leaving college is that treating music as if it is the center of the universe, rather than just as one beautiful reflection of it, is a dangerous way to go about living life, making the once-lovable nerdiness of LCD Soundsystem now seem like an image of my younger self that I’d rather leave behind. But all personal associations aside, when I saw the band at FYF a year ago, any reservations that I had about their reunion just washed away. Even as I stood in the crowd, thinking about how this was the first time I had seen a band both before and after they had broken up (which even at age 24, made me feel old), it simply didn’t matter compared to the sheer joy I felt dancing along to songs like “Us v Them” or “Yeah.” They sounded as amazing as ever, and I walked out of the festival relieved to know that a group of people having fun making music together was ultimately more important and satisfying than any B.S. notion of a perfect, untouchable three-album canon could ever be. Fast forward a year, and the band is touring on the back of their not-bad/not-great new record, American Dream. They lined up five nights at the Hollywood Palladium in Los Angeles, and our same group of friends that we lost our shit with at FYF the year before all agreed to go. The tickets came out to a devastating $100 each, which right off the bat set an unfortunately high level of expectations for the night, and stood as a sobering reminder of just what sort of act LCD really are these days. Nonetheless, we were all excited, and even if the new album only had two or three keepers on it, we knew the band weren’t ones to walk on and do nothing but new material. The hits would be played. Unfortunately, this Hollywood Palladium show would end up confirming most of my original anxieties about LCD’s return. One of the driving sentimental themes behind LCD Soundsystem’s music is the idea that no matter how cool and young you may have been at one point, no matter how golden your glory days might have been, you still can’t go back. That melancholy reach towards the past is at the heart of Murphy’s party music, and though at their best, LCD Soundsystem manage to use that nostalgia to uncover invigorating new emotional territory of their own, this show at the Hollywood Palladium felt more like a formulaic re-tread than an inspired victory lap. For the first time, the band just didn’t have that spark, and as they ran through all the necessary crowdpleasers and a small helping of new tracks, it began to set in that this reunion was perhaps less an act of old friends getting together to do what they love, but instead something much more dreary: we were just watching them clock in. The show was off from the very beginning, with normally electric cuts like “Get Innocuous!” and “Daft Punk Is Playing at My House” sounding muddied, lacking their usual sense of gradually building bite. LCD songs thrive on their dynamics, their sense of patience, but for most of the show the band just seemed to plow through track after track, with little of the nuance that has epitomized their greatest work. A few songs into the set, Murphy asked everyone in the audience to shut off their phones, requesting that we all stop taking pictures and instead share this moment together and experience something real and blah blah blah. This type of comment has always struck me as pretentious no matter the show, but it seemed especially strange in Murphy’s case. For a band whose rise coincided with that of social media platforms like Instagram and Facebook, whose very first single declared the social currency implicit in saying “I was there,” and who even went so far as to stage a “final” run of concerts that essentially drew a line in the sand for fans of the band – either you were going to be one of the people at these legendary shows, or you weren’t – it seems to me that the very idea of taking pictures at a concert to show one’s friends is one that Murphy’s music has fed into from the beginning. I find it odd and a bit hypocritical that Murphy would act above this kind of behavior. In spite of the show’s weaker moments, there were a handful of songs wherein the band’s chemistry would suddenly kick back into gear, illustrating how exciting they can be when they’re truly in their element. “You Wanted a Hit” was a slow-burning monster, and the immediate one-two follow-up of “Tribulations” and “Movement” made for a mini rollercoaster of mosh-dancing that brought the evening to a delirious frenzy. The encore began with a powerful take on “Oh Baby,” the best song off American Dream, and climaxed with the still-amazing “Dance Yrself Clean,” which, as expected, lifted every single person in the room off the floor once the beat dropped three minutes in. During these intermittent periods of high-energy release, I regained some kind of hope that perhaps LCD does still have some life left in it as a project, that in spite of the band’s weaker versions of classics like “Someone Great” and “All My Friends,” there was still a well-oiled rhythm machine in there somewhere, one capable of making bodies move regardless of whatever legacy it may have wrapped itself up in so tightly. By and large, it was still a fun night, if just for the fact that going to a show with all my friends to see a band that we all love will always be fun. Even the band’s limper songs were still enjoyable to have happening in the background while I caught up with my crew, but until now, LCD had never been a band that I would’ve willfully talked over at a show. We’re all getting older, and to be frank, with LCD Soundsystem aging the way they have, I couldn’t really be too surprised that the show would end up being somewhat lackluster – I had been expecting as much a year before when I had seen them at FYF. But the fact is, that show a year ago was incredible, and it gave me the hope that this one would be just as good, which renders it all the more disappointing. Maybe Murphy was wrong; maybe you can actually can go back to the glory days for one night. You just can’t stay there. http://j.mp/2ByZdOY

[biofunmy]

A.L.D.S. Game 2: How the Yankees Beat the Twins

From 2016 to 2018, Didi Gregorius was a cornerstone for the Yankees. He played slick defense at his demanding shortstop position, improved his plate discipline and smashed at least 20 home runs each year, a crucial left-handed counterbalance in a Yankees’ lineup heavy on right-handers.

This season, though, was anything but smooth for Gregorius. He missed the first two months after having Tommy John surgery on his throwing elbow last fall, for an injury he sustained during last year’s postseason. And when he returned in June, Gregorius couldn’t quite recapture his pre-operation form on either side of the ball. Still, Manager Aaron Boone stuck with Gregorius even as he slumped heading into the playoffs.

All of that felt like a distant memory on Saturday as tens of thousands of fans chanted “Di-di! Di-di!,” and he obliged their request for a curtain call by thrusting both arms in the air from the dugout steps. He had just sent Yankee Stadium into a frenzy with a towering, third-inning grand slam, powering the Yankees to an 8-2 win and emphatically confirming that the Yankees’ bats may indeed be too much for the Minnesota Twins in this American League division series.

The best-of-five series will shift to Minneapolis on Monday, with the Yankees one win away from clinching a berth in the A.L. Championship Series. And if the Twins cannot neutralize even the Yankees’ struggling hitters, they have little hope of extending their postseason.

“That just shows you what this team can do,” Gregorius said. “We’re not just relying on one person.”

It was the Yankees’ 12th consecutive playoff victory against the Twins — the longest postseason streak by any team versus any opponent in major league history.

Seeking to contain the Yankees’ home run-blasting offense in their hitter-friendly stadium, the Twins turned to the ground-ball pitcher Randy Dobnak, who skyrocketed all the way to the major leagues from a low level of the minor leagues at the beginning of the season.

Dobnak’s story was captivating: He went undrafted, played in an independent league, was an Uber driver this spring to supplement his income as an underpaid minor leaguer, and skipped a few Twins games to get married in late September — a date he and his wife had chosen because it was after the minor league season.

The Yankees did not homer off Dobnak, but they wore him down with hard-hit singles and doubles. Twins Manager Rocco Baldelli hooked Dobnak after the Yankees loaded the bases with no outs in the third inning and turned to Tyler Duffey, a reliable reliever during the regular season. But Duffey was no better against the Yankees’ buzz-saw of a lineup, which began to pile on the runs.

Left fielder Giancarlo Stanton gave the Yankees a 2-0 lead with a sacrifice fly. Second baseman Gleyber Torres smacked a single to make it 3-0. And then Gary Sanchez was hit by a pitch, loading the bases again. When Gregorius hammered a 1-2 pitch down the right-field line, it was the fourth straight at-bat in which Duffey failed to put a Yankees batter away with two strikes.

In that third inning alone, every Yankee hitter aside from Gio Urshela either drove in or scored a run. The scoring outburst buoyed a strong performance from the Yankees’ pitching staff — led by starter Masahiro Tanaka, who allowed one run over five innings — against a powerful Twins offense. Tanaka, who lowered his playoff E.R.A. to 1.54, joined Sandy Koufax as the only pitchers in major league history to allow no more than two runs in each of his first six postseason starts.

“We were a little timid,” Twins first baseman C.J. Cron said, adding later, “We wanted to swing. We weren’t swinging with the same aggression that we have all year.”

But the star of the night was surely Gregorius, who was slumping like no other player entering October. From mid-August through the end of the regular season, he had a miserable .184 batting average across 30 games. It didn’t help that in August he dealt with finger and shoulder injuries, neither of which sent him to the injured list. Some metrics showed that Gregorius had regressed on defense. And given the versatility of D.J. LeMahieu and Torres, it seemed plausible that Gregorius might sit out against a left-handed pitcher this postseason.

“Just try to swing at strikes,” Gregorius said of what he had needed to improve. “That’s one thing for me right now, and be patient.”

Boone never stopped supporting Gregorius. The manager’s words before Saturday’s game proved to be prescient.

“I still maintain that the best is yet to come from Didi, and I know he’s going to have some big swings for us moving forward,” Boone said, adding that Gregorius was pressing at the plate and working behind the scenes to snap out of his funk. Boone continued, “Sometimes it just takes one at-bat, one swing to kind of turn it, and I believe that’s what’s in there for Didi still.”

That swing came, Gregorius said, on his second-inning single on Saturday, and more proof came an inning later. After he drove a high, fly ball to right field, Gregorius stood at home plate and admired his work before tossing his bat aside. He said he was happy that he had adjusted to Duffey’s high fastball as opposed to whiffing against it, as he had in the previous game. As he rounded the bases, Gregorius, stoic throughout his struggles, appeared to keep an expressionless face.

In the dugout, right fielder Aaron Judge urged on the cheering crowd by waving his arms. Dellin Betances, the injured star reliever on crutches who had predicted Gregorius’s grand slam to his teammates before the at-bat, smacked the top of the dugout roof in delight. Gregorius finally grinned as he high-fived and hugged his teammates, another Yankees’ victory all but assured with his breakout swing.

Here are the highlights of the Yankees’ win, as they happened:

8th Inning: It’s All But Over

The announced attendance for Game 2 was 49,277, and a good portion of them headed for the exits after the Twins went down in order in the top of the eighth, striking out two more times to raise their total to 12.

7th Inning: About That Slump…

The Yankees must be slumping — they haven’t scored in four innings.

Adam Ottavino entered the game for Tommy Kahnle and pitched around a double by the rookie Luis Arraez. Ottavino struck out Miguel Sano to raise the Twins’ strikeout totals to 10 through seven innings.

Didi Gregorius led off the bottom of the seventh for the Yankees and drew a walk. With a grand slam and a single already for Gregorius, it is an encouraging sign for the Yankees — like adding another diamond to a ring, so to speak. Gregorius finished the regular season with only one hit in his last 31 at-bats and was 14 for his last 85 over his final month of play for a .165 batting average (he then went 0 for 3 with a walk in Game 1 on Friday). The Yankees lineup is unrelenting, and because of his slump, teams might have seen Gregorius as the only hole in it — until now. With Sir Didi showing signs of emerging from the funk, the question is: How can anyone pitch through this lineup?

4th Inning: Twins Finally Muster a Run

Call it a rally, or perhaps as much of one as the Twins are going to get against Masahiro Tanaka. Minnesota scored a run on Mitch Garver’s R.B.I. single to cut the deficit to 8-1. The only hit Tanaka surrendered through the first three innings was Nelson Cruz’s broken-bat bouncer back to the box that Tanaka could not corral. The Twins did not hit a ball out of the infield until Jorge Polanco’s fly ball to left field leading off the fourth. Tanaka has thrown 73 pitches through four innings.

The Yankees actually did not score in the bottom of the fourth. This game is two hours old and they are not even halfway.

3rd Inning: Gregorius Blasts a Grand Slam

The rout is on. Didi Gregorius hit a grand slam to right off reliever Tyler Duffy, and it was such a no-doubter that right fielder Eddie Rosario never even pretended to go after it. The Yankees took a 7-0 lead and the celebrations were already underway.

The Yankees knocked Dobnak out of the game earlier in the inning when they loaded the bases with nobody out, and went on to score seven runs. Duffy replaced Dobnak, who allowed four runs in two-plus innings. Giancarlo Stanton hit a sacrifice fly and Gleyber Torres singled to left before Gregorius’s slam.

Dobnak’s short outing was fairly predictable. A recent Uber driver against this lineup? Rather optimistic of the Twins. The last Twins rookie to start a game in the postseason was Brian Duensing at Yankee Stadium in 2009. Duensing gave up five runs in four and two-thirds innings and his father was hit by a car outside the stadium (he was O.K.).

Gregorius’s slam was the 12th by a Yankee in the postseason, and first since Robinson Cano’s off Al Alburquerque of the Detroit Tigers in 2011 (WFAN’s Mike Francesa knew him as Alberto).

1st Inning: Encarnacion Delivers an Early Advantage

Yankee Stadium is alive with this late afternoon start on a crisp autumn day, and the Yankees wasted little time getting on Twins starter Randy Dobnak, the rookie pitcher who drives an Uber in the off-season. Fans were chanting “U-ber” when Dobnak got in trouble in the first inning. He gave up a run after D.J. Lemahieu doubled and Edwin Encarnacion later laced a one-out, run-scoring single, but the 24-year-old right-hander got out of more trouble — and quieted the sarcastic chants — when he induced a double-play ball from Giancarlo Stanton.

Masahiro Tanaka also used a double play to escape problems in the top half of the inning. With one out, he hit Jorge Polanco with a pitch and then could not field Nelson Cruz’s broken-bat comebacker. But Tanaka got Eddie Rosario to bounce a changeup to Lemahieu at first base and Tanaka covered the bag and caught Didi Gregorius’s relay throw in time.

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[survivemiddleearth]

Episode #3: “Nabbed by a man in a party city cow suit” -Nick

I CANNOT FUCKING BELIEVE THAT I JUST GOT NABBED BY A MAN IN A FUCKING PARTY CITY COW SUIT, IM FUCKING KILLING MYSELF IN THIS STUPID FARMERS FEILD

Remember when i said i felt secure in this game? Yeah me neither, and now with a tribe swap (:

I’m so sad???? I don’t even know the names of my old tribe to mourn them. AHHHH I DONT WANNA SWAP YET cri cri. Well fresh start cept Stephan is here so semi fresh. Hopefully he won’t screw me over jajdjdw

a tribe swap huh... I'm really curious to see how the Idolhunt works, and if the clue for a 2nd Idol on 1 tribe (?!?!?!) is actually transferrable.

Its a tribe swap and yay! I’m with the two people I’ve actually talked strategy with, Dennis and Sammy. However, I am with Vi, who is not my favourite person, i’ll try for the clean slate and all that is my philosophy but she has a history of being a snake, if an ineffective, goat-esque snake.

BLESS THE RAINS Ok I'm actually sad about Jayden - was a cool guy but I couldn't try and dictate another vote so soon and he WAS on the outer :/ BUT NOW I GET TO BE CHAOTIC YEE HA! im throwing my old tribe under the bus so fast cuz im messy and i want to be that bitch (patent pending) johnny will assume i'll take his side probs but like, I might, but I'm not gonna give up this opportunity to play middleman my inner kass is gleaming caw-caw am coming!

Yay! I love my new tribe. I have had good experiences with all these players, so I feel that my options are available and I can go to whoever I want for an alliance.

I HAVE FOUND. EVERY SINGLE. FUCKING. IDOL LOCATION. ALL THREE. AND THEY'RE ALL. FOUND. IM GONNA. SCREAM. IM. MAD.

Ok lost post but I haven’t confessed since the swap so: ok so the tribe swap has me shook. Thank Zeus that I’m still with Jay and Ford. Zach and JG are also on this tribe but I don’t think they like me. I messaged Zach and he responded with ‘👀’ which was funny asf but also. how do I respond to that. Drew and nick both had conversations with me so I don’t feel completely rejected. Jay and I have been sharing idol hunt stories and we’re pretty sure that all idols have been found so I’m scared to idol hunt, all I’ll find is disadvantages and I don’t want that. The word search comp was a lot of fun ?? I didn’t know any of the words so it was really panicky but I think I did okay. I really hope that we win this comp because. I hate tribal?? I’ve only lived 2 tribals ever because I’m a dumbass so.

This tribe is...interesting. Zach and Dylan R, despite being my sons, are a lil snakey. I see their rat boy sides, respectfully. Dylan just never lets me live tbh. But Zach and I were talking about the tribe and he mentioned wanting to blindside Drew at some point, and I was like Yeah Makes Sense and he goes "so if you could convince people to do that it would be great!" BINCH. I'm not your minion yet, don't give me tasks. So I have to keep him around to throw under the bus at some point lol. I think I'll try to get Bodhi out first since everyone else on the tribe I think I can work with.

Ayyy. Lets go guys. I found an idol. The first time I ever found one in a survivor game. Lets see how long I can hold onto it, before i either get blindsided or waste it out of paranoia. Imagine how nutty it would be if I had 2 idols by now. DARN YOU STEPHEN!!!

I’d love to get crow on board to work with my old tribe mates, none of the others really talk to me much. Thats not to say if a better offer comes up I wont take it, I’m considering tryig a less loyal game plan.

So far Dennis is my closest ally in this game, but I’ve been working hard to make sure I dont stand out as a player and an alliance maker. I also have talked to Crow a lot and really like him, would love to work with him. Dennis wants to work with Roxy and Sammy which I am cautious about, but now isn’t the time to play the game too hard. I’ll work with them for now while getting closer to others and then make my move, theres a lot of players in this group I have to make sure I’m not left behind or blindsided.

Nick sweetie I like you but 2 hours omg im beyond shook. I don’t want him going so that’s chill but I would be lying if I said I didn’t laugh omg. I’m.... kinda glad we lost? In a way?? The other tribe has a 4-3-1 where as our tribe is 3-3-2 so. In a way this is better?? I’ll probably be eating these words when I get evicted tomorrow but oh well. 

Drew is really nice and we have great conversations !! But I know his history so of course I’m wary talking with him. He’s good at grilling for info while also being guarded, so talking with him about the vote worries me. If I say the wrong thing I feel like he could turn the votes against me. I thought this vote would be easy but Drew telling me that him and the red team aren’t close worries me because I know that they’re in an alliance. Drew is still really cool & nice but paranoia is a bitch !!!

I did the math, because I’m a nerd, and Zach needed a score of 16 minutes in order to tie. Honestly not the dudes fault ,,, we woulda lost anyway even if he did well. Just thought I’d say that 

I'm really glad our tribe won. We ended up bonding a lot over a long discussion in the tribe chat, and I want to build with that with the people who I had most in common with, like sammy. I feel I need to socialize more because no one really approached me in a bit. I know we aren't a tribal but I feel like I should be approached anyway.

FINALLY I'm headed to tribal! I really need to go to at least one tribal pre-merge just so I can see where the heads are at and how people act under pressure. So far I've learned that Zach is the most Rat Boy person I've ever met. ZACH, I TOLD YOU AFTER KALOKAIRI THAT YOU NEED TO LEARN TO TONE IT DOWN. TONE IT DOWN. Dylan R too, to be honest. They're both just WAY TOO STRATEGIC. Like learn some subtlety, kiddos. Dylan R literally said 'we really need to get out Bodhi' to me and Zach asked 'Why doesn't Bodhi like you?' unprompted and is also roasting Drew every .4 seconds. I mean yes it's refreshing since I'm so used to playing with crusted over community people like.....myself. But also, I'm tired. I don't want to play the game as a rat herder, trying to stop Rat Zach and Rat Drew from biting each other's heads off. (If you're reading this post-season, just know I view you all as very strong players, and I bestow the title of rat lovingly, as I myself am 100% a rat). On the plus side, there are LOTS of juicy meat shields in this game. As annoying as it's going to be to deal with the inevitable Zach vs. Drew ego war, at least I know their conflict is going to keep me out of the spotlight hopefully long enough to make late merge. I need to stay as UTR as possible as long as possible, and this cast might make that easy for me. I'm just thankful I have JG. He's one of my best friends, and I know we can trust each other going forward.

Oh god I went so hard my last game and now this game i’ve Idol searched once and confessed once lmao. Ummm...not a very interesting game so far. No one’s flipped. No ine’s Been shady. Very clean cut. I’m playing with some Kalokairi peeps so that’s fun and fresh, but other than that there hasn’t been much. That’s probably why I haven’t confessed at all 😂.

I thought that this vote was gonna be easy but talk of an idol has sent people into a frenzy. Personally, if an idol gets played it won’t be the end of the world for me so I’m not... too scared ? Inb4 I get blindsided but it should be either bodhi or nick going.

Welp, the vote has flipped to Nick. Usually that would make me scramble to get it back where I want it, but this game I'm not strongarming any players, and I'm going with the "anyone but me" strategy. So whatever! If everyone can unanimously vote against an inactive player, that works.

This might be me being cocky. But I can not believe that 12 minutes was actually the fastest time. I am happy that I am not going to Tribal council. And I'd like to keep it that way as long as possible, but still... 12 minutes? Mhm.. Maybe the other tribe threw on purpose to get certain players out... who knows!

Welp I really wanted Nick gone because of that score, sorry bud but it is about tribe strength but everyone was saying let's vote Bodhi. Being/feeling on the bottom even though I have some relationships with  people like Dylan, Drew, and Jay , I still did not feel secure in my position in this game. During the afternoon, I realized it was extremely stupid to target and get rid of Bodhi who would most likely be loyal to me and have my back over some of these other folks. So I talked to Jay and planted the seeds of actually voting out Nick instead of Bodhi. I went to Bodhi saying that we could potentially flip this and told him who needed to talk and and who to target to save himself which was obviously Nick. I wanted Nick out the moment those results came out and if he goes home, I will take claim to this for pulling this off, this will potentially really keep Bodhi as a number for myself and not rock too many boats.

wow shook i didn’t do the worst at the word search....why do all of my friends gotta be in the game w me. Potentially I would like to work with Johnny and Roxy even tho I know a lot of times ppl target roxy for being crazy and I don’t know who i can trust yet. I like crow as well. My predictions for tonight is that bodhi might go home because he really wasn’t active on our old tribe but only time will tellllll

[seniorbrief]

How a Man Survived a Plane Crash—and a 15-Hour Swim with Sharks

This article was originally written by Peter Michelmore and appeared in the October 1987 edition of Reader’s Digest.

Sudpoth Sirirattanasakul/Shutterstock

An hour into his planned 65-minute flight from Nassau last December 5, Walter Wyatt, Jr., alone in his twin-engined Beechcraft, peered anxiously through the rain for a glimpse of Miami. In Nassau thieves had looted his navigational equipment, and Wyatt, 37, an airline flight engineer, was flying home by the seat of the pants, with only one compass and a hand-held radio.

After he had passed Andros Is­land, the skies blackened and the compass needle kept gyrating. Fearing it had led him off his west­erly course, Wyatt looked for some landmark. At 3500 feet, flying be­low the overcast, he spotted waves crashing over rocks, which he guessed were the chain leading to Bimini. He followed them north, but Bimini was nowhere in sight. He had not the faintest idea where he was.

Wyatt flicked on his radio. “Mayday, mayday,” he called. A Miami-bound Air Jamaica jetliner answered and relayed his call to the Coast Guard. A Falcon search jet responded at once but, confused by another distress signal and ham­pered by thunderstorms, took near­ly an hour to home in on Wyatt.

By the time Wyatt saw the white-and-orange jet drop out of the clouds, his right engine was sputtering and night was approach­ing. “We’ll get you down, buddy,” assured Falcon commander Lt. Ste­ven Blankenship. There was an emergency landing strip on Cay Sal to the southwest, he said, and sig­naled Wyatt to follow.

“Hang in there, Walter,” said Blankenship as they swooped low over the white-capped sea. “Six miles and you’ll be there.”

Suddenly Wyatt’s right engine coughed its last; then the left fuel tank ran dry, killing the other mo­tor. The airplane angled for the water. Lowering full flaps to cut speed, Wyatt cried, “I’m going in!” Blankenship, aghast, saw the Beechcraft’s lights hit the sea, then vanish. Banking, he made a low run over the spot. There was noth­ing to be seen of man or machine. (Here are tips to surviving a plane crash.)

Komenton/Shutterstock

An Air Force C-130 transport in the area dropped a parachute flare. But in four more passes, the Falcon crew saw no flares, no life raft and heard no emergency transmissions. They felt certain Wyatt was dead. Co-pilot Mike Flaherty tapped the fuel gauge. The needle was close to empty. At 6 p.m., they turned for Key West. “We did all we could,” said Blankenship dismally. “We’ll fuel up and come out again.”

Hidden in the Waves

Wyatt felt his forehead strike the instrument panel. The airplane bounced, then slammed back into the sea. Wyatt snatched two flares and scrambled onto a wing. Pulling the tags to inflate his life vest, he scanned the sky. The lights of the Coast Guard jet were coming at him. He struck the ignition cap of one flare. It fizzled. The other crumpled in his hands.

He felt the wing sinking under his feet, the nose pitching down. Within seconds, the plane was gone, and he was adrift in five-foot seas. Wyatt had taken sea-survival training and knew he should con­serve energy. But after 30 minutes he was shivering and his legs were cramping. Hidden in the waves, he knew he would be all but invisible to searchers. So he began swim­ming in what he thought was the direction of Cay Sal.

Robyn Gwilt/Shutterstock

Violent squalls churned the seas, and within another hour he was disoriented, his hope fast draining away. The left chamber of his vest was softening; air bubbled from a leak at the seams of the inflation tube. Then the tube broke loose and the chamber collapsed. He re­inflated it by blowing into the hole where the tube had been, and used his finger as a seal.

Wyatt rode the chilling waves as best he could. Blood dripped from his forehead; he was leaving a scent for man-eating sharks. But he knew he must fight to stay alive; to surrender would be suicide. If this is my final day, God, he prayed, I ask you to forgive my sins.

“I Love You”

Treading water, he methodically prepared his life vest to carry his last wishes to his loved ones. He removed an airline identity badge from his shirt and scratched on it with his watchband: “Trish the house.” He hoped a finder would decipher the will; he was leaving his house in Home­stead, Fla., to his girlfriend, Trisha Lansdale.

On the other side, he etched: “143 MDJWT.” The numbers were a code he used for “I love you,” the letters for Mom, Dad, daughter Jennifer, 12, son Walter, 10, and Trisha. Wyatt was divorced; the children lived with their mother in Chattanooga, Tenn.

He secured the badge to the vest and struggled on. He read his watch: 8 p.m. I can make it to 10, he told himself.

Just before the deadline, he felt the bump of a hard, moving body against his feet. A shark!

He waited, flesh creeping. They’ve found me, he thought. They’ll be back. Find out the one move you need to know to survive a shark attack.

At 10, he set midnight as his new survival goal, but the vest’s right chamber was leaking now. When its inflation tube also came away, Wyatt reinflated the chamber by mouth and applied his other index finger to the hole, fighting to keep his head above water.

He rolled onto his back and let the rainwater wash over his swollen tongue and salt-burned eyes. When the clouds briefly parted, he saw stars spinning in the heavens. One star seemed to separate from the others and dart toward him. Maybe it’s coming to take me where I have to go, he thought. Please, God, take my lift swiftly.

Hunted by Man-Eaters

In the sky to the west, Lieutenant Blan­kenship fought to hold his jet steady on course for Cay Sal. He had replenished his fuel in Key West and was returning, accompa­nied by a Navy helicopter, which would spotlight the search area. But visibility had fallen to near zero, with thunder and lightning and a deluge of rain. Continuing would jeopardize both aircraft and flight crews. He signaled the chop­per and turned back. They would search in the morning.

Down in the sea, the weary swimmer imagined dawn skies filled with aircraft looking for him. When midnight passed, he re­solved to last until daylight.

Then a blow on his feet sent him into panic. Another shark! Instinc­tively, he kicked at the intruder and pulled his hands from the vest. Water poured into the holes. Down he went-five feet­ tearing at the vest until he was free of it.

Stop! his mind commanded. Get your head to­gether! Now! As the vest sank deeper, he made a desperate lunge and felt his fingers close on the rubbery fabric.

Resurfacing, he held the limp vest in one hand, then took a gulp of air and turned his face into the water, his arms outstretched. He gave a scissor kick to propel himself forward, raised his head, exhaled, inhaled, and repeated the float­and-kick sequence. He kept it up for the better part of an hour.

Afterward, feeling calmed, he blew air back into the chambers of the life vest and slid his body on top of it. Timing the rush of the waves, he surfed onward. I’ll make it to dawn, he thought.

Andreas Wolochow/Shutterstock

Closing In

A flicker of hope stirred as a red speck of sun showed on the horizon, then climbed into the overcast. He looked for planes, but there was nothing. He lowered his gaze to the ocean. Directly in front of him, a dorsal fin cut through a wave. There was a thump on his left elbow. He let out a yelp and twisted away as the yellow-gray hide of a second shark slid by. The sharks were there in a pack, sizing him up.

Wyatt rolled onto his back. In the murky blue wall of a wave, he saw a big bull shark coming at him. Abruptly, it dived, then charged upward at his legs. Wyatt drew up a leg and slammed the heel of his sneaker down be­tween the shark’s eyes. It shot away, surfaced 20 feet to the side and began circling. Remora suckerfish were clinging all over its hide. ”I’m not ready to die yet, shark,” he called out.

Two more bulls swept in. Both spun away from his frantic kicks. Later, a hammerhead was almost too swift for him. Wyatt’s foot missed the ugly snout but crunched the fin, and the shark veered off. Here are 13 things you didn’t know about shark attacks.

Then Wyatt saw the metallic­ blue tail of a mako break the water. That’s one of those 90-mile-an-hour sharks, he warned himself. Tensing for a lightning strike, he watched the shark thrust its head out of a wave. The predator’s dead eyes were looking directly into his. In a flash, the mako was gone.

Wyatt felt sapped. The hunters would sense his weakness, he re­alized. Once he allowed that first bite, the pack would come in a frenzy. The distant roar of an aircraft brought his eyes left. He spotted a Coast Guard jet, then watched it fade from sight. In minutes, though, it reappeared—it was fly­ing a back-and-forth search.

“I’m Alive!”

When the plane had closed to within a half-mile, he waved the orange vest. The plane came nearer and then was over­head. Waving frantically, he arched his body out of the water. “Why don’t they see me?” he cried.

In the plane, Blankenship was looking almost straight down, hop­ing to spot the Beechcraft’s wreck­age. Suddenly his brain told him that for an instant he’d seen a man, half-buried in the swells, waving a life vest. He hit a computer button to fix the position, and said, “Hey, there’s a guy in the water!” He quickly radioed the Coast Guard cutter Cape York, 12 minutes away.

Mike Flaherty dropped a smoke canister to guide the cutter and saw Wyatt swimming for it. Close behind him was a huge dark shadow. Blankenship urgently radioed, “Get moving, cutter! There’s a shark targeting this guy!”

Wyatt had eyes only for the sil­ver glint of the canister. But why hadn’t they dropped a life raft? Minutes later, he had the answer. A sleek white boat was knifing toward him through the waves.

As the Cape York came abreast, a Jacob’s ladder snaked over the side. Wyatt caught a bottom rung and hung on, unable to climb.

WIRACHAIPHOTO/Shutterstock

“Hey, throw the vest away,” a voice shouted as two men helped him up.

“No way,” Wyatt replied in a croak. “It goes where I go.”

Over the rail he came, eyes swol­len, body shaking, and went to his knees to kiss the deck. It was 9 a.m. He had been swimming for more than 15 hours.

Circling above, Flaherty slapped his commander on the back. Blan­kenship grinned hugely. “This makes it all worthwhile,” he said.

Later that day, after Wyatt was examined at a Key West hospital, his parents drove him to Homestead, where he sat for hours with Trisha. “I can’t believe I’m alive!” he said over and over. He fell asleep, with Trisha holding his hands, and the life vest on the couch by his side.

Next, find out the 6 proven skills to survive any emergency.

Original Source -> How a Man Survived a Plane Crash—and a 15-Hour Swim with Sharks

source https://www.seniorbrief.com/how-a-man-survived-a-plane-crash-and-a-15-hour-swim-with-sharks/

[thrashermaxey]

Ramblings: Ward, Bernier, Marchand, Simmonds, Parise, and More – June 29

  We are just a couple of days away from one of the busiest days in the NHL schedule, Free Agent Frenzy. It’s a great day for many hockey fans to relax, fire up the barbecue, and find out about how their team’s fortunes may change for the upcoming season and beyond. If you’re an Edmonton or Montreal fan, it’s a good excuse to start in on grandpa’s cough medicine before noon.

The Dobber team will be here all through free agency to provide updates and impacts of signings from a fantasy hockey angle. Be sure to check back on Dobber Hockey all day Canada Day to see which players, or line mates, could be hurt or helped with all the movement.  

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Several fantasy-relevant goaltenders will be finding a new home this summer and Pierre LeBrun gives an update on likely destinations for a few of them:

Always subject to change between now and Sunday, but at this hour on the goalie carousel, it would appear Carter Hutton is the leading option in Buffalo, Jonathan Bernier likely headed to Detroit and as we said before, Cam Ward likely to Chicago…

— Pierre LeBrun (@PierreVLeBrun) June 28, 2018

The writing was on the wall for Jonathan Bernier when the Avalanche added Philipp Grubauer and St. Louis doesn’t have (or doesn’t want to spend) the space to bring back Carter Hutton. Cam Ward going to Chicago in a backup role is interesting considering Ward hasn’t had a good season in six years.

Bernier is the one who interests me the most here. He was around league average over the last couple years as far as all-strengths save percentage is concerned – though his goals saved above average isn’t very good – and Jimmy Howard has just one year left on his deal at the age of 34. In other words, I don’t think the team will be too committed in making Howard their go-to, sure-fire number-1 goalie. This may be a hot-hand situation which could lead to good value at the draft table grabbing Bernier as a fourth goalie in 12-team leagues. Let’s see how the signings actually work out.

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LeBrun also states that the Kings and Drew Doughty have started their dialogue towards a new contract. Doughty is part of the triumvirate of elite defencemen set to be unrestricted free agents next year along with Erik Karlsson and Oliver Ekman-Larsson.

We’ve seen the reports that OEL is expected to sign for eight years and somewhere around $8M-$8.25M per season. Of the three, though, he would be considered the lesser defenceman (all being relative here). Were Doughty to sign sometime in July, it would undoubtedly set the market for what teams can expect to pay for Karlsson.

Either way, cap league owners should be prepared for eight-figure AAVs for both Doughty and Karlsson a year from now. You’ve been warned.

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On the Rick Nash front, there was confirmation from his agent that Nash is still unsure about even playing in 2018-19 and won’t be signing immediately on July 1st. At the least, he seems to be very much considering retirement, if not just being very careful about where he signs next.

Just a thought in dynasty leagues: now might be the time to get him extremely cheap. You should be able to get him for a lower-level prospect or some sort of pick, given the news right now is that he might retire. In the right situation, 20-25 goals is again possible.

*

This is a little too on the nose given the goings-on around the franchise:

The #Sens continue their development camp despite power outage in the area. #SensDevCamp pic.twitter.com/2kuNlrCHz5

— Brent Wallace (@tsn_wally) June 28, 2018

*

In yesterday’s Ramblings, we discussed some players with significant on-ice CorsiFor increases in 2017-18 compared to 2016-17. On-Ice CorsiFor per 60 minutes (CF/60) is the rate at which a team takes shots (shot attempts, to be exact) with a given player on the ice and is generally expressed at five-on-five. The more shots a team takes, the more opportunities for goals. More opportunities for goals means more opportunities for points. The discussion revolved around a handful of players and whether this increase was a blip or the start of a new trend.

Today we will go over the other end of the spectrum: those with significant declines in on-ice CF/60. Again, data from Natural Stat Trick with viz from CJ Turtoro using data from Corey Sznajder.

Here are the largest declines in on-ice CF/60

Let’s talk about a few of these players. Most of them aren’t worth mentioning but there are some very fantasy-relevant players.

  Zach Parise

It took a long, long time for Parise to finally hit the ice but he made his season debut on January 2nd and was actually pretty helpful from a fantasy perspective. Despite the lowest TOI/game since his rookie season in 2005-06, Parise still managed 15 goals and 119 shots in just 42 games. That’s without much success on the power play, posting one assist in over 100 minutes of PP time from his debut through the end of the campaign. As an aside, it’s worth noting he led all Wild forwards in PP minutes over those 42 games, but he shot just 8.3 percent on the PP. Expect much better power-play numbers next year if he keeps getting those minutes.

It’s worth noting the Wild were one of the few teams to see a decline in CF/60 from 2016-17 despite league-wide shot rates increasing. They have consistently out-performing their CF/60 in terms of actual goals in recent seasons, as Anaheim teams in years past had done. All the same, the team’s 3.6 percent decline in on-ice CF/60 is a far cry from Parise’s 9.9 percent decrease.

This seems to be an instance where line mates matter. Parise skated double the minutes with Mikko Koivu than Eric Staal, but his on-ice CF/60 was much better with Staal (58.76) than with Koivu (51.45). Things were even more stark in 2016-17, when his on-ice CF/60 with Staal (61.24) was much higher than with Koivu (47.98). The difference was that in 2016-17 he played considerably more minutes with Staal, whereas in 2017-18 he played a lot more with Koivu.

As long as Parise stays in the top-6 with those power-play minutes, I wouldn’t be too concerned with which centre he skates alongside at five-on-five. His health will ultimately determine his fantasy value and considering he hasn’t played 75 games in a season since 2011-12, it’s clear how to value him. He’s a late-round pick at this point with hopes he can he play 70 games.

  Brad Marchand

It’s difficult what to make of Marchand’s season if only because of the flux of the top line. Marchand went through his fair share of injuries over the course of the season and had the multiple suspensions. Patrice Bergeron went through his fair share of injuries, missing 18 games total. In his games missed, Riley Nash was largely the centre Marchand skated with.

Despite all these variables, Marchand had his best offensive season considering he played just 68 games.

It’s worth first looking at Marchand’s numbers with Bergeron and with Nash:

With Bergeron as his centre, Marchand’s on-ice CF/60 was 66.63

With Nash as his centre, Marchand’s on-ice CF/60 was 57.61

It shouldn’t surprise anyone that the Bruins were more productive offensively when Marchand had Bergeron as his pivot, but that mark of 66.63 is still lower than Marchand’s total on-ice CF/60 in 2016-17 (69.36), and lower than Marchand’s on-ice CF/60 in 2016-17 when looking at his time with Bergeron (70.43). There’s not much reason to get too hyped over a 5.7 percent on-ice CF/60 decline in the Bergeron+Marchand numbers, though, given the injuries outlined above.

Despite the injuries, despite the suspensions, and despite the decline in on-ice CF/60, Marchand did a better job at controlling the puck, helping his team exit their zone and enter the offensive zone in an attacking manner than the year before:

Even considering everything that happened, it was a special year for Marchand. A full season with that top line intact should see Marchand easily repeat his 2017-18 performance if not exceed it. It’ll be interesting to see what his ADP will be i.e. if he sneaks into the late first round in non-real time stats leagues.

  Wayne Simmonds

Simmonds has never really been a monster driver of the play. If you go back over the last five years, it’s a mixed bag. Decent driving offensively, not so much preventing defensively. He’s a finisher. He’s a guy who digs pucks loose and gets to the net. And that’s perfectly fine. Every team can use the type of player Simmonds is. He is great at what he does, and if he does get traded, there should be a long line of suitors.

His numbers did fall off this year but it’s not something that I think is concerning. Through injury and demotion at times, Simmonds played just 975 minutes at five-on-five. Of those 975 minutes, he skated with Valtteri Filppula for 400 of them, roughly 41 percent of his five-on-five TOI. In those 400 minutes, his on-ice CF/60 was 52.03. In his 328 minutes playing with Nolan Patrick, that number ballooned to 58.13. It’s no secret that Filppula is far from the player he was years ago and at this point it’s a question of if he can even find a regular role in the NHL now. Simmonds played over 40 percent of his five-on-five ice time with a guy who is, at best, a fourth-line centre at this point of his career. That is in contrast to his 44-plus percent of ice time with Claude Giroux in 2016-17. It’s no wonder Simmonds’ numbers took a tumble.

There are also the injuries. Oh man, the injuries. He played through a broken ankle, torn pelvis, and pulled groin. He also tore a ligament in his thumb. Despite all this, he missed just seven games and still managed 24 goals.

With Filppula garnering so much time as his pivot, and a litany of injuries that would make a player’s entire career, let alone season, look painful, Simmonds’ zone entry/exit numbers, as well as his shot rates and contributions, all declined:

There is still some uncertainty this summer, namely that Simmonds’ name keeps coming up in trade talks. Whether he’s back with the Flyers or somewhere else could have an impact on his value. His fantasy value, at least on the production side, largely comes from the power play, so if he is traded, it needs to be somewhere he’s going to be on a heavily-used top PP unit.

Regardless, it’s amazing Simmonds had the season he had. Sure, all his numbers declined in pretty much every important category but it’s a credit to him that they didn’t decline even more than they did. Maybe a down year will provide good value at the draft table come September. In roto leagues, he’s generally been a lock for a top-50 player. If he’s healthy in the right situation, he can be that player again.

from All About Sports https://dobberhockey.com/hockey-rambling/ramblings-ward-bernier-marchand-simmonds-parise-and-more-june-29/

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

COTW 16 - start

Despite being pregnant, Eren's body had tried to send him into heat. They'd talked a little over the photographs, until Eren had shut down, murmuring that he needed to testify, before leaving the dining room table. His mate taking himself to bed, locking himself away, and leaving Levi with a sick sense of worry as he left for work again. Eren still locked away when he came home, and wasn't up come morning. He knew Eren would take care of Viren, but with his specialist appointment the following day, he didn't want the omega under any unnecessary stress, so called Hanji. Hanji happy to take Viren for the night, which would give Eren some space to breathe and prepare himself. When he came home from work that night, Eren came striding out. He didn't pause before pushing his lips to Levi's, growling into his mouth as he tried to pull him closer. Led into Eren's room, his mate was almost frenzied he pushed him into nest and begged him to mount him. Levi tried to be gentle, yet after cleaning him up, he'd been stuck with simmering desire in the base of his stomach. Eren didn't really want this, he knew that, but his mate wouldn't take no for an answer. Leaving him alone in his room Levi fled back to their room, closing the door and sitting with his back to it as Eren started pounding against it, sobbing for him. He wanted to cave in, and to soothe his mate until he was purring mess, but that wasn't what Eren really needed right now. It was a small eternity before Eren finally stopped knocking, Levi wrecked with guilt over doing the responsible adult thing. He could have given in. He wanted to give in, but they'd talked about it. Eren wasn't ready and he respected his omega's wishes... even if they really fucking sucked. Falling asleep against the door, he woke with a stiff back and a crink in his neck. Fuck. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He'd supposed to just stay there until Eren went to his room, then he was supposed to check in with his omega. Dragging himself off the floor, he felt revolting. His clothes stuck to him with sweat, and in all the wrong places. Shit. Today was going to be hard enough without him looking like shit. He needed a shower, and roughly 12 extra strong cups of tea. Eren's door was closed, so Levi showered first. He didn't want to wake his mate, only to abandon him again. Trying the handle, his mate's door was unlocked. Eren's bed has been transformed into a lavish nest, with all of his blankets and pillows gathered, and though wrecked, it was clear he'd taken his time to thoroughly prepare it. Amidst the messof blankets, Eren's hair was poking out. A mess he itched to straighten up for him, but he didn't dare. He knew better than to violate the sanctity of his mate's nest. Instead he sat on the edge of it, not entering without being invited. Shaking Eren's shoulder, he woke his love, Eren trying to hide in his blankets with a long groan. He reaching out, Eren snaked an arm around his waist "Eren, we have to get up" "Noooo. Sleepy" "Your appointment's today" "I'm not moving" Clinging to him tightly, it seemed Eren didn't want him moving either "Eren, I know you don't want to move, but if you don't want to go to your appointment covered in slick and cum, you kind of have to" His words caused Eren to release him, his omega shifting back from his a scent filling with guilt as he pulled his blanket down over his face "Shhh... hey. It's ok" "I... fuck... heat" "As eloquent as always, but yes, your body tried to send you into heat" "I'm sorry" "No. It's ok. But are you ok?" "I feel wrecked" "Are you mad?" "No... I probably would have been feeling even worse... uh. Thank you" "I've already had a shower, so take your time. I'll make breakfast" "Am I allowed to eat?" Levi drew his brow in confusion "Why wouldn't you be?" "I don't know how these appointments work" "Today we meet with the specialist and then we'll discuss our options. They won't be doing anything today" "Are you sure?" "I'm sure. Are you coming out of your nest?" "I don't want to move. I'm beached" "I'm not coming in there to pull you out. This is your nest" "I think I'm literally beached... I have the stuck. Just leave me here" "I'm not leaving you in here" "Fiiiine. You're going to have to leave though. Things under here are a mess" "Ok. Just call out for me if you need help" "Mmm... ok..." "I love you " Coming out the bathroom in time for their scrambled eggs to be fresh from the pan, his mate had looked lost as he gazed across the apartment "Where's Viren?" "He's with Hanji. I thought you could use the rest before today, and we'll pick him up on the way home" "Oh..." "I thought you could use the rest" "You said... it's... I miss him" "It's only for a few hours, then we'll pick him up. I don't have to go in until after your appointment" "Are you sure? I could go alone" "You're not going alone. You're my mate and they're our children. I'm going to be holding your hand every step of the way" "Are you sure you really want to see them? It... doesn't look great" "I've seen the scans Eren. I know what we've gotten into and we'll figure out what's best for our pups. Why don't you sit? I'll bring breakfast over to you" Eren looked slightly guilty as he curled up on the recliner. Titan coming running to him, the cat had been in Viren's room "I don't like not sitting at the dining table. It doesn't feel right" "When I get a day off, we'll all go together and choice something. We need to start picking up things for the pups" "I... think we should wait" "Why?" This wasn't going to turn out like the whole wedding fiasco was it? I still wanted to marry Eren, but the trial had driven it from his mind. Though it was a little surprising that Eren hadn't found the ring yet, given the amount of cleaning he liked to do "In case they make me abort" "No can make you abort" "I'm an omega. They can literally force me to" "And I'm telling you they can't" Carrying his breakfast over, Levi snagged the coffee table with foot to pull it closer to Eren, before placing it down and lifting Titan from Eren's hold "Good god, you've got fat" "He's not fat. He's fluffy" "Then we need to start shaving him and selling his fur off" "He's perfect as he is" "He's a fatty. I bet the moment I place him down, he's going to run for his food" "I'm not taking that bet. I wish the hardest part of my day was jumping on the kitchen counter" "No one is stopping you from jumping on the kitchen counter" "That seems like effort. If I jump on the counter, do I still have to go?" "You do... its better to know everything than just worrying about it" "I hate when you're right" "I know, now eat your breakfast then we'll head in" * Eren fell mute as they sat in the waiting room. They'd been sent for an ultrasound, which Eren hadn't been able to handle. His omega had taken one look at their pups, then closed his eyes as silent tears formed. The tumour had clearly grown, though both pups were still alive. Both their little heartbeats filled the room, sent Eren into a meltdown. His hold on his hand grew limp, Eren turning his face from the direction of the screen, while the woman performing the scan tried to reassure them that Eren was in good hands, and offered her sympathy over what they were going through. He supposed he could understand that Eren didn't want to get more attached to them, when he could lost them, but he knew it was too late for Eren to putting those particular walls up. His mate loved the pups, just as much as he did. In the end, his fiancée kept his eyes closed until the technician finally wiped gel off his stomach and they were sent back up to the fourth floor to wait. Like everything in life, the wait is usually worse than the actual appointment. Holding Eren's hand, he pressed kisses to the back of it, having realised that Eren was going to be answering any of questions any time soon. By the time Eren's name was called, they'd already been waiting for over an hour. Eren had been to the bathroom twice in that time, returning and looking paler each time he did. His scent was verging on panic, leaving all the alphas on edge as Levi led him over to the man that had called them through. They'd both thought they'd be taken into the consultation room, but instead, Eren's vitals were taken, as was his previous medical history and the complications during his first pregnancy. Levi was left to answer, while Eren stared down at his stomach. Once the short examination was over, they were sent back to the waiting room for another half an hour long wait. This time when Eren's name was called, his fiancée's knees gave out when he stood. Looping his arm around Eren's waist, Levi kept him propped up until Eren finally took a small step "I'm here. I've got you" Giving a curt nod, the pair of them made their way back into the hall they'd followed the nurse into before. This time, they were led past the nurses office, then another four doors down. Sitting behind her desk, the specialist was already waiting. The woman was on the youthful side of old. The roots of her hair were peppered with grey hairs, while her face was relatively wrinkle free. Rising from behind her desk, she gestured to the two chairs in front of it "Hello, I'm Doctor Reed. Please take a seat" Levi moved his chair closer to Eren's, his mate sitting down and immediately trying to curl into himself. Placing his hand on Eren's thigh, he squeezed softly "So. Which one of you is Eren?" Eren didn't get the joke, raising his hand slightly to indicate he was "Sorry. Just a little humour. Now, I understand this is your second pregnancy, and you've also suffered through a partial miscarriage. It's my job to make sure this little pup lives to meet his parents, and I'm going to my very best to make that happen. I can't make any promises, and I won't. Not all pups survive this, and not all mothers survive the birth. Now that I've got the scary talk out the way, I'm going to have give you a quick examination, then we'll talk about your options. Are you able to hop up on that examination table for me?" Reed smiled at them, while Eren looked to him "It's ok. I'm not going anywhere" "I wouldn't dream of asking your alpha to leave, and I promise all I wish to examine is your stomach" She was good with him. Levi was quietly impressed by her soothing tone. He supposed this wasn't her first dance "See. I'm not going anywhere" Nodding his consent, Levi fussed over Eren as he walked over to the examination table, Levi helping him up "Excellent" Snapping on a pair of blue plastic gloves, the woman moved to Eren's side "Let me know if you feel any discomfort, pain or pressure" Nodding, Eren squeezed his hand. There were a couple of times that Eren whispered "there", but the woman didn't look terribly phased by it. She was still smiling as she stripped off her gloves "Alright. I hope that wasn't terrible. You can take a seat again, take your time to gather your feet under you" Mumbling a thanks, Levi "helped" Eren off the table and back to sit. Washing her hands and retaking her seat, she opened the file marked with Eren's name "Now. You're 20 weeks along... ok. Right. I see..." He wished she'd explain what she could see. Eren was one long moment away from breaking down "Ok. Now, have you been told what a Sacrococcygeal teratomas is?" "We have..." "Basically it's a big tumour at the base of the spine" Taking a pen and piece of paper, she drew a very rough diagram "There are four types of tumour. Looking at your scans, I would be inclined to agree it's a type one, but there is only so much we can see in a scan. When you admitted into hospital, the growth measured 11 millimetres, which is a fair size for a pup so small, the grown now measures a little over 15 millimetres, so it's still growing" Looking down to her file, she flicked through a few pages "The biopsy results show the tumour to benign, which is a good thing" Flicking back through her pages, Levi resisted the urge to rip the file from her hands as she did "I see an abortion was recommended" "He's not having an abortion" "Eren can speak for himself. As I was saying, I see an abortion was recommended, and I can see why. At the moment, that pup is trying his hardest to grow, but with the rich blood supply of the tumour, more energy is going to the tumour, causing his heart to work even harder to keep up with it. Heart failure is common in cases like this, as is the risk of miscarriage and early labour. There has already been a thickening his placenta, as well as signs of excess fluid. It's going to be a hard pregnancy, but if we can get you through to your 30th week, I believe we have a chance. Of course, a caesarean will be necessary, followed by surgery immediately following birth" 30 weeks seemed like a life time... especially when Eren was having so much trouble already "Eren has been called to give evidence in a trial. Will he be able to do that?" "I certainly wouldn't recommend it. Pregnancy is hard enough, a pregnancy with complications more so. Too much stress on you and your pups could lead to all kinds of complications" "Are you able to write us a recommendation that he doesn't take the stand? The officer in charge of the case will only take a statement from an impartial physician" "One look at his current medical state should tell any trained professional that he is not in the right frame of being to be giving a testimony" "Unfortunately they tend to hold the fact that Eren is an omega over him" "Yes. That is unfortunate. Now. Eren, we will be monitoring the tumour growth over the coming weeks. As I work on a rotation basis, I'll schedule you in for 4 weeks from today. 4 millimetres is a huge amount of growth, despite being so small to us. I want you to have another ultrasound in two weeks time, then another before you come to see me again. If you begin experiencing pain or bleeding, do not ignore it"