#i have returned to relative stability since the initial happening | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yostresswritinggirl · 4 years

Text

Tales of The Ghost Writer

“You met Xingqiu at Wanwen Bookhouse when delivering a batch of your newly-published book. But as a ghost writer, no one knew it was you that authored such books. Safe to say it was cute watching the noble bookworm fanboy about you in front of you.”

Pairings -> Xingqiu x Author!Reader

Word Count -> 3518

Theme -> Long Fic, Fluff

Series -> #Bonafide specials (100 followers event)

Warnings -> Xingqiu's name might be mispelled at times, also he rambles a lot

Entry Log # 645:

I’ve once again delivered the new batch of books to Wanwen Bookhouse today at 4PM, 30 new books in collection to be sold. That would add up to a total of 420 published books for Legend of the Lone Sword. Despite its old circulation, collectors and avid bookworms still seek out the volumes. In a spur of the moment thought, the 4th volume was finally rereleased for more readers to get a chance to read them. While on my rounds, I’ve met a particularly peculiar fan.

“4th volume?” You nod as you set down the stack of books on the counter where Jifang stood behind with a welcoming smile. “Thank you, everyone has been asking about it for a while now. I don’t understand how people keep missing out on the last volume like so.” There was an exchange of giggles between you continued your idle chatter, busying yourself with recounting the stack to make sure the order placed was exact. Yep, 30.

You picked one up from the top pile as Jifang enters the bookhouse to gather the payment. It wasn't that much of a feat to carry a pile of 30 books when it's only this thick, you thought as you opened the book in the middle and... buried your nose in it, literally. Archons, the scent of freshly printed books had always been such a stress reliever of a kind. The imprints were still fresh as you run your thumb over the pristine white page of page 75, the gravings of the letter bumping it in such an intricate and endearing manner. You suppose it should be prime time you get a copy of your own-

"Ah, the glorious scent fresh books offer are quite irresistible to everyone," your head whipped to the side in a hurry at the embarrassing display. Yet your new company only offered a light-hearted laugh, floaty and flowing swiftly past his lips. You find it enjoyable to listen to. "Fret not, I don't judge such honest guilty pleasure."

His smile was soft and respectful as you return it, watching his hand (wrists largely ruffled) pick up the next book on the pile, his interest shining the more he recognizes the the piece of literature. Such expensive clothing and poise, you thought as you continued to inspect. "I knew Wanwen had a schedule of new releases today, but I was not informed it would be the 4th volume of the Legend of the Lone Sword!"

"A fan?" You mused as you placed back the copy you took, leaning against the counter as you watched him quickly scan the lines of the book. He was intensely staring at every word with such a calculating gaze, that sometimes break when he reads how the character would sometimes reach an impasse, or when a new discovery reaches its peak. His ardent gaze was enough of an answer. When he took a break from reading to pass you his attention, you hadn't realize how red your cheeks had been out of embarrassment. "I've always wanted to get my hands on my own copy of the 4th, yet everytime all bookhouses in Liyue keep running out of stock. Is delivery normally this scarce?" He'd gestured at the not so looming pile.

You nod in response with a forgoing giggle. "Publishing could be running into some... shortness of funds?" Subtle, yet he hums in disappointment at the thought. His little pout, adorable, as he buries his face in the book again. I would gladly fund such glorious writing, you thought you heard past the leather back before the ornate doors past the counter finally opened again.

"Ah sorry it took so long, I couldn't find the exact pouch for the- hey! You again, you've read and been scolded dozens of times already," the woman angrily gestures to the notice board by the table, "Pay first, read later!"

You snorted, thankfully masked by the sudden cry of the caught culprit as he was smacked (hopefully gently) on the head by the owner, forcing him to put back the book to the pile. "Hnghh, but Lady Jifang! You didn't scold her, she was indulging herself with the book just the same," you breathed a fake gasp of astounded betrayal, before you three had laughed in chorus.

The oldest of your trio scoffed in amusement as she placed the bag of Mora unto your waiting hand. "What, her? Why would I scold her, she probably knows every word like the back of her ha-" her rambling was then cut off by a loud smack on her bottom, a book expertly finding its way back to your hand with a perfectly cut smile. Her yelp was not unnoticed by the male as he laughs at the display.

"Let him be, he's really been patiently waiting for the release!" Jifang scoffs at the word patiently as you came to the defense of blunette. You were never really aware of the norm in Wanwen, as you usually come by at a time where you would have been alone. This was a first.

"Quite so! Just the start of the volume had me hooked, setting for the peak of the story climax! The synopsis itself already hinted of another inclusion of a new element into the story I had not expected from this style of a book, surely such a writer would not tread such parallel territory without being an expert teller-" Jifang watched in amusement as her gaze lands on you at the start of the bookworm's rambling, watching the redness touch the tip of your ear with an abashed smile shyly gracing your lips. Behind it she can see the mirth and amusement, something she outwardly shows with her own expression.

"Wow," was the Liyuean woman's only response once the speaker has finished his lengthy speech. His dorkiness stands with pride at his examination.

You cleared your throat before you could mutter your initial words, finally realizing the time. "That was... quite marvelous of an analysis. A-Anywaysss, thank you for your partnership, I hope the books are all sold by tomorrow!"

And with that you swiftly made your exit, wanting to find a place to scream the embarrassment out. Or maybe squeal, just to be subtle.

Entry Log # 15:

As a distant relative to the Guhua clan, the (L/N) clan was not exactly known to be tied closely to the prestigious clan known for their expert martial. However, despite the impure connection, they carry with them still the honor of learning the arts to a meticulous detail.

Your family was one of the living practitioners of the Guhua Arts, twice removed, yet your spotlight was not that obvious as the name would carry. Your father wish to carry a new kind of prestige without relying on the powerful namesake and he had been adamant since birth to grind every teaching and form of the art into his immediate family.

"Misogyny nor feminism will not save you from battle, only your own strength." Something along those lines, was what he said.

Your eldest brother was his main point of reference when scolding you on not taking your lessons properly. A slacker he is, now he lacks not only a means of security but also financial stability, that's what you end up to if you don't treasure the arts of our family. You have no idea how martial arts brings you monetary security, but you can't really state to your own father that his logic was a bit skewed.

Daily during morning and the first touch of evening, you had resigned yourself into training under your father's supervision. As the eldest daughter of the house, you carry with you still a responsibility to be strong. No fraility was accepted, and your mother always argues about your father's ever so masculine lifestyle being imposed on you, a lady that should be taught other customs for means of living.

Yet after every session, at the end of the day under the caress of the lamp by your study table, your hands move with precision and calmness he would have scoffed at in the dojo. The beauty of words and their power to create new worlds effortlessly had drawn you in too easily, ever since you were young you had a knack for the books your mother reads to herself or to you.

Entry Log # 651:

The next time you'd met the Wanwen Bookworm (nickname you gave) was a rare moment when he'd finally looked at you more than the book in his hand. It seemed your little interaction from the bookhouse was attention-grabbing enough to make him seek out your person with a bunch of questions and wonder.

You gulped, patting down your blue skirt before accompanying him. The way he rambles was too dangerous, it was drawing something within you to also do the same, and you feared you may let out something you shouldn't. But a fellow 'reader' is good company, and with the little interactions you had with the same age group with the same interest makes this moment something you can't pass.

"Carrier to the Yae Publishing House?" You nodded calculatedly, after confirming you've said just the right information. "Quite intriguing, especially with such young age to be working in line with the greatest press house in Teyvat." Ohhh, he's surely smart despite the first impression of goofiness.

You giggled as politely as you can remember you should upon the scarce teachings of your mother. "I've always liked literature so I couldn't uhm let the opportunity pass, even if it's insignificant like that." Good, good, piling up the lies. You're grateful you haven't made some contract of friendship and happen upon the wrath of your nation's God. Or Qixing.

"Surely, you must have been in the presence of some of the wordsmiths during your rendezvous! So tell me," there was a dangerous glint in his eyes and you knew exactly what he's gonna ask, "Have you met the legendary Bob Ong?"

Oh goodness, you felt him caress and pat your back as you tried your best to breathe after the sudden choking on nothing, he was so spot on that you were horrified even if you had an inkling of what he was gonna inquire. "I uhm I don't really know what I'm allowed to say." In the inside you were goddamn screaming.

"You don't have to tell me anything about him, really! It's his mystery that makes his character just the most intriguing." You gulped down hard, this time without choking out of nothing. "I don't really know much about who he is since he's, you know, unknown? No clues whatsoever, he could be anywhere right now, maybe you've talked to him already or no. Yeah?"

He held a convincing hum before taking in the cryptic answer, content, for now you assume. "Not many avid readers of the book can place a name to the unnamed author, but how blind they were to see the cryptic signature at the back of the cover. Truly a wonderous act." Xingqiu, you finally learned his name, had took you out to lunch for the trouble and enjoyment. It wasn't really necessary, but you figured it was probably to keep you with him longer to converse about the books more.

A lot of his... analysis actually coincide with the messages that you lodged between the lines. He understands your way of narration more than you do at times, and you were left wondering just how much he had read of the fourth volume despite only having it for a few days then. When evening once again struck, you had bid each other farewell in the promise of another time to hang.

"It's a literature of love and freedom- disguised as a martial arts novel." Was his parting analysis, and you were left to wonder, was that really what you had projected into your works?

Entry Log # 32:

In your young and hopeful mind, you'd sent your first ever manuscript to Yae Publishing House. It wasn't your first work but it was the one you worked hard on the most, with weeks of furbishing and reworks. Your mother, although not directly informed of your whole plan, had provided you with great feedback and generous suggestions. And soon you created the first manuscript of 'String of Pearls'.

With a generous note and what you hoped is enough mora to at least publish a book, your package was sent to Inazuma.

You waited for days, of which turned to weeks, and then to months. You thought by the end of it all, you had been swindled but as young as you still hoped for the best of its outcome.

And then one day, as you were sweeping the outside of your gates in preparation for your father's return from some business in the harbor, a lone man of Inazuman style found its way to your humble abode. He calls himself Mr. Nine, and in his arms cradled two similar looking books, with a familiar envelope.

That was when you had been given the opportunity to write for the greatest Publishing House under the guise of a pseudonym. The great Nine was astounded by your ripeness paired with your prowess in writing. You hid behind Bob Ong, a protection from being belittled as a young child and a woman, to prevent being traced by your father if ever.

Yet you remained as subtle still. Even if your name was not written on the covers themselves, within your heart you were still the writers of those books. You've placed anagrams and mysterious puzzles revealing your name but it was part of the intrigue of the story that they had not thought much about it.

One day, you lost your book when you had gone out to eat. It was the second copy, as you carried the first one in your room, yet it still held a special place in your heart.

Xingqiu was a master novelist too, as you'd expect from someone so enthusiastic on the art of literature too. You'd long since become friends and found out soon enough his true identity. The heir to the Feiyun Commerce Guild, master practitioner of the Guhua Clan Arts, soon to be novelist. He was in every aspect the better half between you two.

One day in his daily reading breaks where he would happen upon you, he had found his eyes wafting over your notebook that you always carry. It was designed to look like a hard bound book specially tailored to your tastes, but it was nothing but mere keepers of your notes and musings.

Your newest page had in it a brand new draft for a brand new story you wanted to flesh out before the success of Legend of the Lone Sword diminishes. Mr. Nine still praised you for the success of your first major publishing and had assured you that there's no need to immediately compensate with another work so early, but your mind was already so eager to work. Your friend had never seen you so- flamed and passionate as the paper caves to the intense pressure your pencil places on it.

So he leans on your shoulder slightly (glad you were still distracted) as he quietly reads the words that articulates on the paper. The more Xingqiu reads, the more he craves, just the same vigor he felt everytime he had read his favorite works when each chapter invigorates him to continue to the end.

"Such a great outline," the blunette breathes out as he leans his cheek at the crown of your head. You let out a cute squeak when you'd finally come to, and turned your head to face him- "I didn't know you were into romance, my liege. Tell me, just where do you get such inspirations?" Your nose softly collided against the smoothness of his cheek, your lips ghosting over the line that is his jaw.

You scrambled backwards to direction opposite of his, yet with his body weight leaning on you, his center of balance quickly shifted on your weight like a net being pulled against the sides of a boat. You both toppled over.

"My, my, I didn't expect such abrupt resistance from you," Xingqiu's arms caged you as it holds him up against the grassland on either side of you. There was a certain mischievous glint in the ocean that is his eyes, which only meant one thing. "No need to be shy," you closed your eyes shut as his face leans in closer to yours, fanning over the frame of your face as he lets out a warm yet teasing exhale, "I'm sure we've gone past our personal bubbles in this relationship." You felt his chest against yours and braced for the inevitable-

as he finally licked your nose(?).

What.

"X-XINGQIUUUUU!" And then a cry of pain after a particularly harmful blow.

Entry Log # 659:

Xingqiu had always been a man of great words despite his chicken scratch of a penmanship. Vivid tales of his manuscript that I'm sure the Publishing House would take great value for, his years of memorizing numerous works in his arsenal. He told me that if I were to one day publish the manuscript, he wants to get the first copy and the first to get it signed. However Xingqiu has one glaring weakness when it comes to the art of words. When I asked him what would be a good title for the manuscript I made, he simply said, "Tales of the Writer!" And he sent a goofy smile. I thought he was joking, and I asked again, this time of what his work would be named. He replied:

"Why, Legend of Sword, of course!" He really sucks at titles.

Entry Log # 660:

Upon returning home with my new work ready to be shipped off for mass publishing, I've finally confronted my father. I had with me the final volume of my first work and offered it to him as first a gift of reconciliation, and my father took it with a mirthful glint in his eyes. He said he has been looking for the last volume of the series he'd been wanting to complete. I... I didn't know father was a fan.

The climax of my entire double-life ended so peacefully and tragically meh. I was expecting a martial arts fight of honor that will go down in history, but instead I ended up signing my own book as my father gushed about how nicely I illustrated the martial arts teaching we had during our sessions. I did not sleep well that night.

October 9th was a day celebrated by others more than the young master Xingqiu. The pavilion was mixed in with people from different walks of life and of faces he doesn't necessarily recognize. He lingers by the open window that shows the grandeur balcony, beckoning him outside. Today was a scheduled new release for Wanwen Bookhouse, and he had heard several chatters from the citizens that a new series would be published hailing from Yae Publishing House once again.

And the virtuoso of literature cannot attend such important matter himself because of his own birthday. How irking, you weren't even there to help appease his grumbling, you should have been here by now upon his invitation.

Suddenly the master of invitations bellowed out a familiar name, as his job to announce the entrance of the invited guests to the banquet. When he looks up, you were already walking down the grand staircase in your creme and blue Hanfu garb, accompanied by a tall man of a different wear—

"(Y/N), M-Mr. Nine-!" He bowed politely to the man as you curtsied at his presence. You looked absolutely dashing yet the man towered your form easily. "It's my honor to finally meet you, sire."

"Happy birthday, Xingqiu, I've heard many great things about you," the blunette opened his hands to receive the book gifted by the man. It had a familiar cover and title to it, Legend of Sword, "Great things, in fact, that there would too be great things to discuss later on." The Inazuman graced him a smile and he almost teared up at the implications, if not for when the author suddenly nudged you forward from your demure state.

Tales of the Ghost Writer

"X-Xingqiu, happy birthday! This is uhm, I've always wanted to- I wanted to give you this myself, I know you'd miss the first batch of releases," an unfamiliar book sits on his palm now. A plume and sword adorning its cover but no title, he shifts his hand to open it to the first page, "You said you wanted its first copy be signed, and I thought it appropriate to be given now at such a special occasion."

There in fresh print and ink he'd finally been revealed the mysteries he had long been searching for.

Against the translucent paper it was written and signed,

Tales of The Ghost Writer

Bob Ong, (Y/N)

@creation-magician @your-local-venti-simp @boxofteenageideas @indigodreamtime47

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact xingqiu #xingqui x reader #xingqiu x reader #Bonafide specials #exile.flower #accidentally posted again but okay #female reader

461 notes · View notes

aphrodicted · 4 years

Text

The 12 Houses

In this post I will talk about astrological houses. Every astrological chart has 12 houses. Depending on our astrological chart, it may be that one or two houses are of greater importance because they have a large number of planets in them. The more planets you find in a house, the more important that house will be to you. What does each house represent? What information can you give us?

If you want to learn more, I recommend reading Kabaleb.

1st House or Ascendant

The 1st House represents our personality and our outward appearance: how others see us, the first impression we make when entering a place or presenting ourselves to a group of people. The genetics we inherit from our parents is likely to focus on this house and our physical condition.

In this house we find the tools we have in this life to fulfill our solar program or our life goal. In addition, this house will tell us the energy we will have to take the initiative in the different situations of our life.

2nd House

The 2nd House is the abode of rest, which allows the individual to rest from creative tasks and dedicate themselves extensively to what they like, without falling on their person. Therefore, peace and rest are indicated here. Along with rest, this house indicates the way, the attitude, of the individual towards their obligations.

This is the house of the material rewards we will get in this life and how we will get them. The collections of this reward will be materialized in money in our world, but at the cosmic level it is where it is organized and decides when and how the individual will collect these material rewards. On some occasions, we expect a charge that isn’t made because we aren’t in the right place to obtain such a charge, since the individual isn’t doing what they should do. This can happen when the planets in this house are poorly aspected.

Therefore, the 2nd House talks about our resources (mostly materials, although it can also refer to internal resources) and the use we can give to them. Our relationship and how we manage them will also be key in this house.

Unlike other houses, the 2nd House talks about the assets generated by ourselves, with our effort and work, whether in this or another life. The resources that we obtain in this life don’t have to be those that we generate in our day to day, but they can be a reward for what we did in a previous life.

Along with resources, this house talks about our material possessions and how we manage and use these possessions (our ability to spend and save these possessions and rewards). It isn’t wrong to relate this house to money and our financial stability, since here we will know where our benefits will come from.

3rd House

The 3rd House represents how the individual pours their thoughts on the physical space where they live. Also, this is the home of our brothers (biologica or not)and your relationship with them. Apart from the brothers, in this house are our blood relatives (such as uncles or cousins), but not our parents, who will be seen in other houses.

Neighbors, whether they are from the same building or the neighborhood, and your relationship with them. Any element that is part of the environment in the life of the person, contacts and relationships with beings and things around us unfolds.

Short trips, words and writings with which the individual expresses his way of seeing the world. Therefore, the 3rd House is the manifestation of human thought and our communicative capacity at all levels (written, oral, etc.). Memory can also be found in this house.

This house governs everything related to expression and all the ways in which it can be disclosed: from speech or writing to the press, radio, television, cinema, etc. Any means that serve the individual to express themselves and dialogue will be reflected in this house.

Depending on how well or poorly this house is, the individual will have more or less facility to express themselves and access to the use of the means mentioned above. For example, the individual may have a lot to say, but little access to the means to express themselves. A 3rd House full of planets, announces the individual will work with their thought in an intense and deep way, either positively or negatively. It will be someone with great mental activity.

Finally, this house is about our experience in primary school (primary studies) and this can be reflected here. Along with it, bureaucratic processes, commercial interactions, sales and purchases... can be seen in this house.

4th House

This house informs us of the birth of our emotions, our prenatal life, our childhood and early youth.

We will be able to see how our relationship with the family will be. If we talk about our family, the house especially marks our relationship with the mother and what she will be like. Although it also tells us about the family that we will form in the future. In this house our origins, our ancestors are treated. In addition, it can indicate the individual's birthplace and how ingrained the particular location feels.

It tells us about the structure of our home, both the physical (our home) and our inner home (our inner world). When we talk about our conventional home, it will also address all of the domestic problems that we may face, either under the care of our parents or in our own home after becoming independent from them. Finally, this house can also tell us about the businesses that we create ourselves, since we can extrapolate ourselves to our second home.

In our 4th House the fall of spirituality on feelings will take place. The 4th House represents our inner emotions, those that we haven’t yet externalized. Everything that is in the individual from the past: our prenatal life, our childhood and our early youth. If 4th House is highlighted by the transit of the Sun, elements of our past lives, of our current past, our childhood or our youth.

Our 4th House talks about our mother. Especially how our relationship with her will be. The work of our 4th House is our spiritual rebirth, which we will achieve by getting closer to our mother, our child world, the scenes of our childhood, the friends we had then.

5th House

The 5th House represents luck. Traditional Astrology places in this house the earnings of the individual through games of chance, speculation, luck or free time. This house represents “doing what pleases us”. The lot I’m talking about is the "help of God", a gift of providence. This luck will depend on the will that the individual has put at the service of the divine work. When the 5th House is activated (either by planetary transits or a lunation), luck will fall on the individual and will result in positive circumstances in love, work, studies, business, gambling... Luck will fall in the area that the person wants most, although if there is some kind of karma in that area, luck can have no effect.

In addition, the 5th House will represent our most unconditional loves: those relationships in which we have loved without expecting anything in return. Those relationships will manifest in our present in the form of love. It isn’t an interested love, but the love that we awaken in people who don’t ask us for anything in return. People who are willing to do anything for us, even if we let them down.

The 5th House represents luck (commonly known as well). How lucky the individual is in this life will depend on our attitude in our past lives. If the individual has been generous and has helped others, in this life they will be rewarded with winnings in lotteries or games, for example.

Children are also represented in our 5th House. Depending on the sign that governs our 5th House, we will be able to know what our children will be like and whether or not it will cost us to conceive them (among others). If our children aren’t carriers of the love that we expected from them, it can be the cause of bad planetary aspects in our birth chart. Everything will become painful and the relationship with the children will be painful and unsatisfactory.

Our creations and our freedom are also inside 5th House. The sign and the planets that are in this house will show us the source of the individual's freedom. This house talks about how to be free, how to overcome the law of karma and where (physical place) the individual will find the freedom that will help them to show themselves as they are (their conscience), without masks or social pressure.

Finally, the 5th House tells us about teaching, what we have ingrained within us. What does the earth bestow on the individual in abundance.

6th House

The 6th House represents the abandonment of everything we have been accumulating to start from scratch. That’s why this house is related to diseases. Especially the vulnerable sectors of our physical body and our habits. In the end, this is the house of health, so all the elements related to our physical and mental health will be found here. From our relationship with food to the physical or psychic conflicts that we can have with ourselves that are the result of our Ego.

On the other hand, it’s the house of commitments. Here we will find all those commitments that we make with our actions and that later we don’t want to recognize or carry out. They are past commitments that we don’t want to accept in the present.

This is house of service. According to Traditional Astrology, these services refer to obligatory services, our subordinate jobs, but our relationship with service will be discussed: how we serve others and how they serve us. It will also deal with the relationship that we will have with everything that is inferior to us: subordinates, domestic animals, vices or perverse habits.

If the 6th House is heavily loaded with planets, this warns us that the individual has many tendencies that have reached their limit in this life. Therefore, you must end all of them. The individual will spend their life cleaning and expelling all the old and useless that are from previous lives and, in the end, it may be that in this life they have a life of servitude.

7th House

The creative capacity of the individual will depend on the collaboration of they other Self. The 7th House can be understood as the search for our other Self, that being, that part, which has the qualities that complement us. The individual doesn’t feel complete only with theselves, so tehy need a complement to feel full.

The position of the 7th House will define the place, the direction, to which the individual will go to look for their complement and where they will begin to create their place of coexistence. This will be conditioned by their character and the work they do abroad, since the 7th House is at the opposite point of the Ascendant.

The 7th House tells us how our spouse will be, their situation, their means, their family, their destiny and all the details that we want about their idiosyncrasy. Also the type of people we choose to achieve our goals (our collaborators, partners or coworkers), as well as our capacity for community life and teamwork (how we are in teamwork, our collaboration in these, etc.). In general, the 7th House talks about social relationships and how we will live them. Besides, we can find here information about contracts and labor agreements that we can reach.

The enemies we do know are also here.

On the other hand, in this house we can find cooperation. If we cooperate with our surroundings, how much cooperation will we receive from the outside or the lack of it in our life. In the same way, and related to cooperation, the collective consciousness is represented in this house. The feeling, the idea or the concept of "us" as a collective.

8th House

The 8th House symbolizes the world of desires and spirituality that may exist in it. This house can be considered that of secret passions because its effects take place inside the individual.

Because of its relationship with Scorpio, this house talks about generation (the act of generating, creating): the individual's aptitude or not for the generation. This concept of "generation" can be related to sexual relations. A poorly aspected 8th House will create difficulties of some kind for any generative activity. These generative activities can range from the conception of a child to the creation of a company or a specific project. However, the individual's difficulties in conceiving children can be seen more clearly in the 5th House than in this one.

The 8th House is the house of joys, as are all houses of fixed signs, and these joys can be “legitimate joys”, those sentimental ones that go from pure emotions to the impure joys of wanting to possess, bend, command over others. The aspects in the 8th House can tell what kind of joys the individual will experience. The illegitimate joys will be those derived from social and political power, the desire for power and wealth. The 8th House can also tell us about the money or material earnings that come through the spouse, partners, income, inheritances or donations. Because the money earned by our own effort corresponds to the 2nd House.

The 8th House is also a very emotional house. It represents the internalization of emotions, our internal feelings, our internal fears and passions, and the structure of all these emotions. This House tells us about our loves (lovers and courtships) and how we will live our sexual relationships (and sex in general) throughout our lives. As I mentioned before, it is the house of the "generation", so fertility and fertility are also represented here.

The 8th House talks about the relationship between our present life and the results of past lives. If the 8th House is in an Earth sign, it means that the individual finishes a cycle and the material gains obtained in this life will be the payment of past efforts in past lives. In some way, the individual will receive their material reward for everything previously done. On the other hand, if the 8th House is in a sign of Fire, the individual begins a new cycle and everything he receives will have no relation to their past performances.

This house is closely related to death and how the individual will die: in what circumstances, what will be the cause, in what place, etc.

Last but not least, The 8th House talks about the individual's psychic abilities/level and what kind of relationship the individual will have with them. People who have certain planets in this house will be sensitive to things invisible to most. For example, the water signs in this house or planets like the Moon, Neptune or Uranus can grant the individual outstanding psychic powers.

9th House

It’s the home of long trips, but we will not only understand these trips as a common trip to a foreign country, but it is the home of physical and internal trips. If it is the house of travel, the foreigner and our relationship with all the elements (things, people...) that come from abroad: how we will accept or deny everything foreign.

The 9th House covers higher studies. If the 3rd House was talking about primary studies, this house tells us about university studies and the like. Closely related to studies, this house talks about the search for knowledge by the individual and, if it is well-regarded, the individual will easily find the knowledge he wants.

Ruled by Sagittarius, the Zodiac philosopher, this house will speak about our relationship with our inner teacher, religion, philosophy and spirituality. Intuition, inspiration and spiritual vision both of oneself and of the collective (world). Therefore, this house will define the expansion and mental and spiritual evolution that the individual will live during their life. In the end, the 9th House is the house of the spirit, spirituality.

Finally, here we will find our ethics and morals and our acceptance or denial of it: if we follow established morality or some rebels against any morality. The 9th House defines our relationship with justice and trials.

10th House

The 10th House talks about work. However, society interprets work as a profession, but the things that the individual dominates aren’t always those that they carry out professionally. The 10th House also represents the activities that are done by vocation and working professionally and making money from other activities.

Here you will see the social projection of the individual along with their professional vocation (or activities that he does for entertainment, but that bring them financial satisfaction). A 10th House with good looks can advertise the ease that the individual has for leadership positions, while some negative aspects in this house recommend the individual to dedicate themselves to work related to the 6th House (if the regents of said house are positive). Some bad aspects in this house announce difficulties to exercise command, work in precarious companies or work adversities.

Continuing with the labor issue, the 10th House can help the individual to know what type of professions are best for their working life. Here we will indicate the professions to which the individual is most prepared to achieve and, furthermore, in which areas the individual is a teacher of teachers (what we are good at and what we can teach).

Unlike the 8th House, the 10th House tells us about the father figure: our father. Therefore, this house will tell us what our relationship with them will be like, what he will be like with us, etc. Also the relationship with our superiors in the workplace: bosses, authorities... In addition, in this house you can also see the relationship with our employees if we don’t work for ourselves (self-employed).

On the other hand, prestige, honor and our place in society (thanks to our profession) and our reputation.

11th House

Traditional Astrology defines this house as that of friends and protectors (and social relationships in general). These friends will be the people with whom we will interact without passion, since our romantic interests and our lovers are in other houses. This house talks about people who think like us, those who share our thoughts and our social intentions. Therefore, here we will define what our friends will be like and what relationship we will share with them.

This house talks about goals and dreams. Also about long-term projects. The goals or dreams this house talks about will always be those planned, structured and the individual has been working on for a long time. They aren’t easy dreams to achieve. Therefore, the soil and the ambition of the individual will be defined in this house, and it will tell what these dreams are like and if the individual will have difficulty achieving them. A poorly designed 11th House will announce the individual will have difficulty achieving their dreams and will not be easily satisfied.

A well-respected 11th House will help us easily find the right friends, those with whom we can think and share dreams. The desired friends will manifest themselves because we will let ourselves be seen and they will be able to find us. On the contrary, a poorly designed house, the disorder will settle in the psyche of the individual and, in the end, the friends who appear in their life will create conflicts or protectors that don’t protect us, but throw us into danger. People who share thoughts or dreams with us will judge us inappropriately and they will have wrong ideas about us.

This house talks about our inner thought and how we structure our thoughts.

12th House

There are many astrologers who consider Pisces as the sign through which emotions are externalized and, therefore, the 12th House is the most human of all Earthly Houses. Through the 12th House, the individual's feelings are channeled towards the environment in which they libe and, in this way, he or she becomes a little god who creates their world from the ideas they emit.

The 12th House is considered the house of the tests or difficulties (emotional tests) the individual will face to create their world based on their feelings. However, the world isn’t the same for everyone, so each person must act and adjust the circumstances around them will help them understand the importance of understanding with the people around them and, finally, accepting the functions of the 7th House: form groups and establish cooperation with the people around us.

If the feelings of the individual, when creating or adjusting, are positive, the person will build a world of goodness and brotherhood, thus freeing their environment from impurities. If, on the contrary, their feelings are negative, the individual will create a corrupt world full of vice that will lead to drama, destruction and negativity. Therefore, the 12th House will talk about what the environment of the individual is like.

Along with tests or difficulties, the subconscious has an important role.

The 12th House is the house of the secret enemies, the jails, the impediments, the deprivation of liberty produced by the need for our feelings to fit into a reality that doesn’t allow them to exist. When the feelings, the desires, don’t fit, the individual becomes violent and tries to force things. This reaction prevents them from being free, since they don’t let themselves flow, but they live forcing something that isn’t possible.

This house talks about the Karma (the Law of Action-Reaction or Cause-Consequence) that the individual will have during this life. This house is related to Divine Grace (which we have mentioned in a previous house). On the other hand, it can be considered as the house of charity, be it the charity that we give to the world or the one we receive from it and the people around us. The 12th House is related to hospitalizations and medical interventions you may receive. Furthermore, this house defines loneliness and the individual's relationship with loneliness and the role of the individual in secret societies.

Traditional Astrology considers the 12th House as that of secrets and mysteries. This is true, since the 12th House expresses our inner world and, normally, the individual keeps secret everything that has to do with their feelings (they keep it as a secret to others). A 12th House full of planets or with its ruling planet with numerous aspects, defines us as an individual who will put great efforts in building their environment (their world) in their image and likeness, being able to face others, lead a very hectic life and full of experiences (which will be positive or negative depending on the aspects).

#astrology #astro #houses #astrological houses #zodiac #birth chart #astrological chart #chart #kabaleb #aphro.astrology

277 notes · View notes

argylemnwrites · 4 years

Text

Fight or Flight - Chapter 8: Regret

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~3500

Rating: R (language only)

Summary: Thirty one hours since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: Shall we even pretend there is a posting schedule at this point? Oh well, another chapter has arrived. This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

Drake popped his headphones in, trying not to wake up Bridget as he pulled open a video on his new phone. He was also supposed to be sleeping, at least theoretically. It’s why Riley had gone into the bathroom a couple of hours ago - so that he could turn off the lights and it would be relatively quiet. If he slept now, after all, he would be able to drive through the night. But he’d been wide awake for the past three hours, and at this point, he wasn’t even sure if attempting to sleep was worth it. So he just laid in the dark, his daughter sleeping peacefully next to him. Thank god she wasn’t doing that whole sleep reversal thing she’d been doing last month, where she’d been waking up maybe a dozen times over night. Her being a good sleeper was maybe the one saving grace here.

Today had just been stomach churning since he’d left to go track down a car and supplies. He hadn’t known whether to be grateful or freaked out when he’d returned to the hotel this afternoon, and Riley had a list of things they needed to do typed up on her phone. While he was glad she no longer seemed like she was about to sink into a pit of panic, seeing her planning with this much intensity was just… strange. He couldn’t think of a time she had ever made such a detailed list. She always just adapted to the situation at hand. She never tried to shape the situation herself.

But between what she’d found in her “fugitive research,” and what Hana had told them when she called after the hearing, they were starting to come up with a plan. Hana had told them that Rashad was going to be sworn in as regent tomorrow and that Olivia was technically “investigating” their location at the moment. That as soon as Rashad took on the powers of king-regent, Olivia was going to disclose that Bertrand and Maxwell hadn’t “found” them at Lythikos, so she’d sent Hana to “check” that they hadn’t returned to Valtoria, but that she hadn’t found them there either. They were all repeatedly calling their old phone numbers as well, hoping to make the story believable when Rashad undoubtedly opened an investigation into their disappearance with Bridget.

But all this meant that arrest warrants could be issued as soon as tomorrow morning. The hearing wouldn’t take long, and no one was sure if Rashad would see things as a sign of an attack on all three of them, or if he would correctly deduce that they had made a run for it and willingly left the country with Bridget. Either way, their financial and phone records were likely to be subject to review. And that meant they needed to not be anywhere near Ioannina by the time of the hearing.

The issue was, they wanted to withdraw more cash before the investigation froze their accounts. This meant using the same ATM they’d been using one more time, at 12:01 am when it was a new day and they could withdraw their daily max again without giving anyone a new location to investigate. Then, it would be time to get in the newly-purchased hatchback and drive on to Xanthi, the city they’d chosen as their next stop. Small enough that no one would predict it as their destination, big enough that Riley, a woman of East Asian heritage who only spoke English with a still-persistent New York accent wouldn’t be immediately noticeable. Drake liked that it was past Thessaloniki as well. No one would guess they drove hours further into Greece than a city with an American consulate.

So, in preparation for that drive, Drake needed to be sleeping. Even after several years out of Manhattan, Riley still hated driving, and in all honesty, the thought of her behind the wheel in a country where she couldn’t read the road signs was not reassuring to Drake in the slightest. He wanted to be the one solely responsible for the driving. But that meant he should be napping now. But how was he supposed to sleep at a time like this?

In the past day or so, he’d gone from a very stable existence to literally plotting how to hide out from law enforcement. He’d embezzled money and bribed a used car salesman to look the other way and not require him to register the car for official Greek or Cordonian papers. He’d left the only home he’d ever known, not knowing if he’d ever get to go back. How could anyone sleep after a day like that?

So instead of sleeping, he was watching news coverage of Liam’s speech that he’d given only a few hours earlier. Speculation was rampant as to both why the vote of no confidence was called and as to who the acting regent would be. Who his daughter’s regent would be. Because for the past few hours, the 10 month old sleeping on the mattress next to him had technically been the Queen-Regent of Cordonia.

It was a strange feeling, knowing that going forward, Bridget would be listed as Queen-Regent Bridget in history books, her rule starting today. Liam’s request had kind of always seemed like simple bookkeeping before. Although Liam told the press that Bridget would remain next in line for the throne even if he had children of his own, Drake had always kind of assumed they would readdress the whole situation when Liam actually got married. It had seemed highly likely to him that Bridget would end up just being a temporary placeholder, someone needed to convey stability of the Crown until Liam had a kid or two of his own. And even if she had remained next in line for the throne, Drake never really thought he’d see her take on the title. She was only supposed to rise to that position after Liam’s death.

It was probably something he should have put more thought into, to be honest. But he hadn’t, at least not anywhere near enough. And now there was no great way to undo it. She was the queen-regent now. Abdication for her, as a minor with the title, would be a nightmare at this point. Even if her title was just through the Conclave, the steps that they would have to take to change things now, the support they would need from the assholes who just voted against them and Liam, well… Drake wasn’t counting on that happening any time soon.

He opened up the CBC app to watch another site’s coverage of Liam’s speech, but his phone started buzzing in his hand. The number flashing across the screen had a Cordonian country code, but it wasn’t Olivia or Hana’s burner numbers, which they’d already added to their contact list. This had to be either Liam or Maxwell on a new number. Taking a deep breath, he popped out the headphones and swiped to accept the call.

“Hello?”

There was a brief pause before Liam’s voice came through the speaker. “Hello, Drake.”

Drake didn’t know what to say. It was his turn to speak, but what do you say to someone you’ve known almost your entire life when they lost everything? When you’d let them down? After too many seconds, he finally managed, “So, you… uh, got our new numbers?”

“Yes. Hana and Olivia provided me with them.”

“Right. Well… good. You, uh… you should have our numbers.” Drake ran his hand over his face. He couldn’t be more awkward about this if he tried.

“Indeed,” said Liam, after a beat, “So, how are you all doing?”

“We’re okay, I guess. How are you?”

The pause was longer this time. “It’s been a long couple of days, Drake.”

The weight of that sentence settled over Drake, the guilt he already carried multiplying in that moment. “I’m so sorry, Liam.”

All Liam gave in response was a little hum of acknowledgement, so Drake kept speaking, trying to find some words that would make this better, that would make Liam see how sorry he was.

“We just couldn’t wait around, you know? We didn’t know how things were going to go down, and when Barthelemy started talking about taking Bridget, we couldn’t just risk that, and so we had to do something, right? And I know this leaves you in a tricky spot, but you’ve gotta know, I wish… I don’t know, that we weren’t doing this to you, I guess? But… it’s just fucked up all around, isn’t it?” Drake knew he was rambling, that he'd basically spewed out a whole bunch of garbage, but he just didn’t know what else to do.

“What do you want me to say, Drake? You’re right; the decisions you and Riley made have made things much more complicated for me. Are you looking for me to say that I don’t blame you? That I support this course of action?”

“What else were we supposed to do?” Drake asked. He could hear his voice raising slightly, and he glanced down, checking that he hadn’t woken Bridget, but she was still passed out.

“I told you back when you were trying to have a child that if it ever became too much, to inform me, and we would reserve the proclamation.”

“Are you really trying to tell me that in the middle of everything that was happening yesterday, it would have been a good time to pull you aside and ask to undo all that shit?”

Liam let out a sigh before he answered, “It seems like that would have been preferable to you deciding to commit treason.”

Drake slammed his eyes shut, trying to keep his temper in check. Liam was already dealing with a lot, and he didn’t want to make things worse, but his words were so frustrating right now. “We didn’t even know if you would have the power to undo any of it after that vote.”

“You could have at least waited until we knew the results of that initial hearing. At that point-”

“What if the justice had decided you had no power last night instead of today?” Drake interrupted. He saw Riley coming out of the bathroom and back into their room. She obviously must have heard him on the phone. He just shook his head, trying to reassure her as he kept talking to Liam. “That’s a big fucking gamble to ask of us, Liam.”

“Fine, then some middle-ground or compromise still would have probably been better. You have to know how ill-conceived this scheme you’ve agreed to is, Drake.”

“What would you suggest, then? Sitting around, just waiting to see if we got to keep our kid?”

“Of course not. But if you get arrested and extradited back here, you will absolutely lose custody of your daughter. I would urge you to consider that fact. Additionally, Rashad is not going to be interested in becoming some sort of surrogate parent to Bridget over the next few months.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? That the man you have lined up as my kid’s regent has no interest in caring for her?” Riley mouthed “What?” at him from across the room, but Drake just waved his hand and shook his head again. He’d have to fill her in later.

“My point, Drake, is that Rashad would likely be very amenable to you and Riley staying with Bridget in the role as her caretakers and-”

“Stop. I’m not going to listen to that shit, okay? You know that’s not the same. You fucking know it, Liam.”

There was a rough sigh before Liam spoke again. “Fair enough. But you have to understand that you have put me in an awful position. And I’m just trying to find a way to minimize the damage caused by your selfishness here.”

“How is looking out for my wife and kid selfish?” Bridget squirmed slightly next to him as his voice climbed louder yet again. Riley must have noticed, because she scurried over and tucked her against her chest, muttering soothing words against the top of her head, trying to keep her from waking up.

“Did you think about how fleeing the country would impact anyone? Your citizens in Valtoria who no longer have a regional leader? The people of Cordonia who no longer have an heir to the throne? Your friends who have advocated for you and your family time and time again? No. You just left. You only thought of yourselves. That is the dictionary definition of selfish, Drake.”

“I’m sorry, but my family comes first. This isn’t fucking up for debate.”

“Well, some of us don’t have that luxury.”

Both Drake and Liam were silent for several seconds. Drake took a shaky breath, trying to get his emotions back under control. “Liam. I’m sorry. I really am. I never wanted to do this to you, and I know you are left cleaning up the pieces here, but I am not going to come back just for Bridget to get trapped inside the country and possibly taken from us.”

“Drake, don’t be so-”

“She’s queen-regent now, so no way we don’t get stopped at the border if we came back and tried to leave again, right? In fact, I bet we wouldn’t be allowed outside the palace with her, and that’s if we’re allowed to be alone with her at all-”

“Now you’re just being dramatic-”

“Am I? Because to me, it feels like you want me to come back and hang my hat on the hopes that Rashad needs a couple of nannies. I get the risks we are taking here. But at least we have a shot of staying together as a family this way.”

“Look, I understand that this is upsetting and frustrating. I’m upset and frustrated, too. All I want is to try and create a united front here. If we are fractured and divided, it is worse for everyone in the long run. We all want what’s best for Bridget.”

“You aren’t part of any ‘we’ here. She’s not your kid. You don’t get a say.”

The silence on the other end of the line was awful. Riley climbed onto the bed and leaned up against the headboard. One arm still held Bridget tight to her chest, but her free hand snaked behind him and rubbed soothing circles between his shoulder blades. It just did little to calm him. He didn’t know if more of his anger was directed at Liam, for presuming he had any say here, or at himself, for getting defensive when he was the one who had hurt Liam and put him in this position.

“I have never interfered in any parenting decisions you or Riley have made with regards to Bridget. In fact, I have given you both an unprecedented amount of freedom and control, knowing that it was an unusual situation. But it seems to me like we have nothing further to say to each other at the moment. You are unwilling to discuss the bigger picture here.”

“Liam, don’t-” Drake started, but Liam just kept talking.

“I understand why you’ve taken this course of action. But it is apparent that your priorities are only your daughter, whereas I need to focus on Cordonia as a whole. So, I think at this point we both need to just devote ourselves to those tasks and not worry about each other.”

It was a dismissal. A line in the sand. Whatever inner circle Liam had, Drake was no longer a part of it. He let out a sigh and swallowed roughly. “I am sorry, Liam. I just don’t know what you expect me to do here.”

“I don’t expect anything of you, Drake. You should just do what you feel is best for your family, and I will do what’s needed for our country.”

“Come on, it doesn’t have to be this way. I still want to help-”

“No offense, but a couple of fugitives are not likely to be a great resource to me at this point. This isn’t a punishment, Drake; it’s just the reality. We’ve both made the choices we needed to make, and now we both need to deal with the consequences. I need to remain focused on campaigning to regain my title, and I’m not going to have the time or energy to devote to aiding your run.”

“I’m not asking for your help, dammit. I just want-”

“What do you want, Drake? You don’t get to have this both ways.”

“I want… I want us still to be friends.”

He heard a heavy sigh before Liam spoke again. “Of course we are still friends, Drake. We just are headed in separate directions at this time, it would seem. You now have this number, though. You can reach me if you need to, and I will do the same.”

“Liam, I-”

“I wish you and your family the best; I really do. And if you change your mind, you can come find us in Lythikos.”

Drake closed his eyes. There was no salvaging this. Liam was boxing him out and closing the door. He was pretty sure having Liam screaming at him would have stung less. “Alright, I get it. Good luck with everything, okay?”

“Same to you. I really hope you don’t regret your decisions here and that you all can remain safe.” And with that, Liam ended the call.

Drake placed his phone on the bed and leaned forward, dropping his head into both of his hands. He swallowed several times, trying to break up the lump in his throat. He was very aware that although Riley seemed to be in a better spot than she was the day before, watching him cry over Liam was not going to instill much confidence. No need to make things more unsettled.

After a few moments, he took a deep breath and sat back up. Riley was staring at him, head cocked and eyes full of worry. He just shrugged and shook his head. There wasn’t much to say, really.

“Here,” Riley said, shifting forward and passing Bridget to him.

“I don’t want to wake her,” he muttered, but Riley continued, sliding Bridget into his arms before leaning against his shoulder, her hand slipping along his neck and her fingers threading through his hair.

“She’ll fall asleep in the car,” she said. Drake watched as his daughter blinked up at him, her face scrunched up like she was going to start screaming, but she relaxed and started to drift back to sleep when he pulled her against his chest and tucked his head on top of hers.

He just held her for maybe a minute, not saying anything. Riley was quiet as well, her fingers continuing to trace little patterns across the base of his scalp. Eventually, she tilted her head against his shoulder and whispered, “Do you want to talk about it or not?”

“No,” he breathed out, “not… not now.”

He felt her nodding, and her other hand settled on his knee. “Okay. Thank you, by the way.”

“Walker, it’s-”

“You don’t need to say it’s nothing. And I know you don’t want to talk about it now. So just… thank you.”

Neither of them said anything for a long while. They just sat there, trying to brace themselves for the reality of the next 24 hours. They would officially be under investigation and likely be charged with kidnapping of the queen-regent. This was the point of no return, far more than any decisions they’d made up until this point.

Oddly enough, Drake felt more confident in their plan than he had even before. As upsetting as his talk with Liam was, it had somehow helped him see why Riley was so reluctant to rely on anyone outside their family. Something about hearing Liam discuss the risks they would be facing in Cordonia as if they were nothing. As if living under the same roof as Bridget should be enough. As if they had time to wait for things to unfold. Well, it made it very clear that they saw what could be compromised and what couldn’t very differently.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but eventually Riley sat up next to him. “Did you get any sleep at all?” she asked as he turned his head to look at her.

“No, not really.”

“Well, we better get going then so we can get some coffee before we hit the road.” And with that she slid off the bed and started gathering their few bags of belongings.

She was right. It was time to move on. So he gently clicked Bridget into her new car seat and did one last scan of the room, making sure they weren’t leaving anything they needed behind.

“You ready?” Riley asked.

“Yeah, Riley. Let’s go.”

Permatag: @walkerswhiskeygirl @riley--walker @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5 @mfackenthal @thequeenofcronuts

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @ao719 @mskaneko @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC: @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs @drakesensworld @drake-colt-lover-99

Fight or Flight: @masterofbluff @burnsoslow @bobasheebaby @shz256 @iaminlovewithtrr

#drake walker #drake x mc #trr au #trh au #trr fanfic #trh fanfic #trr au fanfic #trh au fanfic #king liam #choices fanfiction

63 notes · View notes

theroyalmile · 4 years

Text

No Returns, No Exchanges

Disclaimer: I have debated for quite a while whether or not I should post this blog. Social media is such a curated space for joy and happiness, it can feel oppressive at times. There is so much life-changing positivity, from engagements to new jobs; and don’t get me wrong, that happiness is great to see. But on the other hand, all of that positivity makes me feel like sharing any kind of negative information is attention-seeking and an immense overshare. So let’s ask ourselves why I feel that way. Why is happiness celebrated while the sad, sometimes harsh realities of life are thought to be oversharing? More specifically, why do we feel like life-changing news can only be shared when it doesn’t make other people uncomfortable? Our expressions of pain should not be regulated by the comfort levels of the people who surround us. There comes a time when not sharing something begins to feel like hiding something, and hiding something turns to shame. That is a feeling that I refuse to welcome into my life right now. So here we go.

It has been a while since I posted anything… a really long while. It has been rare, these past few years, that I have even felt I had anything much to say let alone write anything, mostly because my life has been fairly normal, fairly unextraordinary, and I am rather blessed to be saying that during such a difficult time for so many. The few moments where I have felt like I had something to say have been fleeting, and after a good 2am word vomit on paper, I have filed these musings under “not to be seen by the light of day” which is probably for the best.

Sometimes in the past I would find myself wishing I had something interesting going on in my life, something worthy of commentary… I don’t know, I was thinking like a cool hobby, an interesting skill, a kick-ass career, or a run in with Tom Hardy like I’d always dreamed of… something.

Well, to whoever is in charge, this is not what I meant, and I would like to request a refund.

Because as its final parting kick in the ass 2020 decided to gift me with breast cancer. This isn’t a bad punch line, it’s just the truth.Let me give you a second to process that one. I certainly needed a few.

The thing is, a little itty bitty 3-centimeter tumor- that’s not something I can give back, as much as I might want to. It’s not a too-large sweater you can return with a gift receipt, and it’s not a bad haircut you can complain about and get your money back (though it certainly will include one in a week or so!)

A lot of you already know this story and frankly it’s not one I can tell with much finesse or humor, so I will keep it brief. It was a dark and stormy 6pm when I found a lump in my breast in the shower back in November. My initial thought was “you’re a crazy lady and a hypochondriac, let’s give it a few weeks since this is probably nothing.” A few weeks, when my imaginary lump seemed to not actually be imaginary, I figured okay, it’s time to see my doctor, it’s probably nothing but we need to make sure. I was in fact so unconcerned about it that I didn’t even see my regular doctor. I figured I just needed a medical professional to feel me up and let me know what to do next. I didn’t even bother mentioning it to my parents. (For context of my laissez-faire, when I was 14 I found a lump in my breast that turned out, after little fanfare, to be a cyst which was unceremoniously drained on a cold metal table by a male doctor in a somewhat traumatizing but ultimately benign event. That’s a longer story for later).

Cue a physical exam, confirming I was not crazy and there was a lump, but it was probably nothing; an utltrasound, confirming the lump was a shape that they did not like, but it was probably nothing; and an ultrasound guided biopsy, in which the probably nothing was sampled. The week between Christmas and New Year’s was spent impatiently waiting for the news, increasingly feeling that my probably nothing was maybe, actually something.

On December 28 around lunch time I received a phone call in the middle of the work day from the radiologist, who while very nice, was someone I had only met once while she shot a needle in and out of my boob. She asked me how I was doing and then told me my test results were in. “I’m sorry to say it’s not good news,” she said.

And believe it or fucking not my immediate thought was “It’s not good news… it’s great news!” My brain supplied this as if on autopilot like some kind of 90s game show host, knowing fully well that I would not be so lucky because we are not living in a Brooklyn 99 episode. It’s weird where your brain goes under duress.

It was one of the most uncomfortable phone calls I have ever had, wherein I found myself trying to reassure a complete stranger that I was okay and I’m pretty sure I even said, “it is what it is.” I was told a breast surgeon and oncologist from my provider network would be in contact and the call ended. Ultimately, I was diagnosed with Stage 1B Triple Negative Invasive Ductal and Lobular Carcinoma. No returns, no exchanges.

I am two months into my diagnosis, and 1/8 of my way through chemotherapy, the first part of a three series treatment (to be followed by surgery and then likely radiation.) This Friday, after my second chemotherapy treatment, I will begin to lose my hair. Anyone who knows me at all knows that the hair loss will be a pill likely far harder for me to swallow than the chemo itself. And while the look may have worked for Demi Moore in GI Jane, I do not have her bone structure, nor her body. I anticipate I will look more like the yellow peanut M&M, which while obviously the best M&M of the bunch, I think we can all agree is not a cute look for me.

I do not say this to be melodramatic, I just say this because I am cynical and pragmatic by nature: I am not particularly surprised that I have cancer. And this is for several reasons, some of which probably deserve a longer blog later. To put it simply, I have been surrounded by cancer, both by choice and by cruel fate and happenstance, my entire life.

Cruel Fate and Happenstance: Having several relatives who have gone through cancer, and a mother with a BRCA 1 genetic mutation (which I had a 50% chance of inheriting, and in fact did) I always figured it would eventually happen to me. The odds this condition dealt me? “About 13% of women in the general population will develop breast cancer sometime during their lives. By contrast, 55%–72% of women who inherit a harmful BRCA1 variant… will develop breast cancer by 70–80 years of age.” That 55-72% is the kind of percentage you want winning the lottery, but the lottery this most certainly is not, and that much I understood. So, I always figured something like this would probably happen. Did I think I would be 28? No. But I figure that just makes me an overachiever.

Choice: I volunteered at a cancer support non-profit from the time I was 12 to the time I was 22, and I wrote my college senior thesis in anthropology on women with ovarian cancer, the cancer that killed my aunt Lizzy when I was 4 years old. I have likely read more books on cancer than your average newly diagnosed person, which I find to be both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, I know some of what’s coming. On the other hand, I know some of what’s coming. Of course I don’t think any of these things gave me cancer but you might say I have been training for this my whole life. I think this joke is far funnier than pretty much everyone I say it to except my immediate family, because the Tenney/Koss folk are very big on gallows humor, in which case this is hilarious. Comedy is our family coping mechanism, and I am guilty of occasionally forgetting not everyone is wired like that.

So where are we right now? Taking it day by day. Do I frequently find myself wallowing in self-pity these days? Sure. But all the same I feel truly lucky. This is a feeling I am trying to hold on to, because I think the other options might be truly unbearable. Why? Well, I found this tumor. I’m 28-years-old, which means I am hardly old enough for a regular mammogram and MRI. My last yearly physical was a TeleHealth appointment (hence no actual physical) and I will be honest, I never made a habit of regularly checking myself like I should have. But this tumor just presented itself casually during a shower. Breast cancer, when caught early, is highly treatable and curable, and I am fairly confident, knock on wood, that is where this particular nightmare is headed. The fact that it was caught early: pure luck.

Another reason I feel lucky is for the most part, I feel like I actually have the stability to handle the oncoming struggle. I have a large and wonderful support system, an incredible and supportive partner, a savings account with actual savings in it, and a job where I am cared about as a human. If this had happened to me three years ago, almost none of these things would be true. There will never be a good time to have cancer, but some times are apparently better than others. Of course, the ongoing pandemic means I can’t have people go with me to chemo, or my wig fitting, or my surgery consultations, and alone a lot of this seems much more daunting and difficult than it might otherwise have been, but I am trying to make a habit of counting my blessings, and despite this terrible thing I’ve been given, my blessings are many.

There isn’t a “right way” to have cancer, but I think there might be a “right way” for me. I am a private person and I find sharing some of these details difficult and more than a little uncomfortable, but I am also intimately familiar with the healing nature of writing and comedy, so I am going to give it a shot.

And now that I think of it… the peanut M&M is going to make a really great Halloween costume.

#cancer #breast cancer #personal #newly diagnosed

8 notes · View notes

highspringtide · 4 years

Text

So over the course of the time jump between CoB and KoC, Nahri starts to identify much more strongly as a Daeva. For a number of reasons--her longing for a home and family, her isolation, Nisreen’s influence. But I also think a potential factor is Ghassan, and how he manipulates the court in general and Nahri in particular. I think he may actively encourage Nahri to think like this to more easily control her as a potential political threat.

Ghassan’s motto is that Daevabad comes first. What he means by that is stability comes first, order comes first, preventing chaos is more important than anything else and is worth whatever atrocities it takes. His goal, more than anything else, is to maintain the status quo. As a result, his lofty rhetoric about uniting the tribes is, at best, a side project. And in reality, he’s more than willing to exploit tribal tensions to maintain power. He may not be actively sowing discord among the tribes, as Kaveh does, but he uses the Daeva’s fear of the shafit to control them, and the djinn tribes’ resentment of Daeva prosperity and fear of Daeva nationalism to keep the other tribes in line. (And the other five tribes’ resentment of Ayaanle meddling, and probably other tensions that don’t come up in the books.) The illusion that Ghassan is a relatively neutral party, maybe less than ideal but better than any tribes’ personal enemies being in power, is what keeps him on the throne.

Then Nahri arrives, possibly the biggest threat to the status quo Ghassan’s ever faced, and he has to decide what to do about her.

Nahri was always going to be a political player with the support of the Daevas. She’s a Nahid who returns to Daevabad twenty years after everyone thought the Nahids were gone. Spontaneous street parties break out to celebrate her arrival. And while Ghassan may have optimistically tried to divide her from the Daeva elites, after their show of support at the end of City of Brass he realizes that that will not work.

Still, Ghassan is willing to accept this, because it’s a fairly limited role relative to how powerful Nahri could be. Nahri, when she arrives in Daevabad, has the potential to be a political player with a much broader base of support and a unifier of the tribes. The Daeva are surely not the only people happy that a Nahid has miraculously returned--in an early chapter, Ali mentions how many people there are suffering from illnesses that can only be healed by a Nahid. And Nahri isn’t just any Nahid--she’s a Nahid from a Muslim country, and thus shares more cultural similarities with the djinn than with the Daeva. (Side note: Nahri doesn’t seem particularly religious in CoB, but if she had been it would have been an interesting plot point that she’s expected not only to suddenly take up and lead the Daeva faith, but to convert to it.) Her close connections to the human world could have been a point of commonality helping her build connections with the Geziri (or other Geziri besides Ali), and could also potentially reassure shafit alarmed by increasing Nahid power in the city.

And Nahri, unlike every other Nahid since the Qahtani conquest, didn’t grow up resenting the djinn. When she arrives in Daevabad, she has nothing of the Daeva’s prejudices against the other tribes--she’s actually initially less open to them than the djinn because of their treatment of the shafit. And she’s a woman raised in poverty who’s been thrust into a magical city full of marvels, and she’s deeply curious about all aspects of the djinn/daeva world. There’s no reason why, left to her own devices, she might not have sought as many friends and allies among the djinn as among the Daeva.

This is a major problem for Ghassan. He doesn’t want a Nahid building her own coalition of political allies in his city. And he especially doesn’t want a Nahid to be seen as an open-minded leader bringing the tribes together. Being the only one fair enough to keep balance and unite the tribes is a role crucial to how Ghassan presents himself. It’s how he gets well-meaning people to overlook his acts of tyranny. So it’s crucial that Ghassan limit Nahri’s allies and support to fellow Daevas, both mathematically--one tribe is fewer than six--and because perceived willingness to reach out across tribal lines is a source of power on its own.

In order to achieve this, Ghassan isolates Nahri as much as possible. It’s difficult for Nahri to make connections at court when she doesn’t know who might be spying for Ghassan. After Zaynab’s attempt to humiliate her upon her arrival, she’s not likely to accept overtures of kindness from the other ladies of the court anyway. We don’t really find out Zaynab’s motives in that scene, but Ghassan certainly doesn’t seem to have asked Zaynab to attempt to befriend Nahri, as he does Ali, even though it would probably make more sense to have his daughter befriend Nahri than his son.

Regardless of her inclinations, Nahri also has little time to make friends and allies at court, again thanks to Ghassan, who pressures her to begin treating as many patients as possible as soon as possible. So she spends her days in the infirmary with only Nisreen as friend and mentor--Nisreen, who predictably immediately begins to tell Nahri about the Nahids, about Daeva traditions, about how the Daeva are marginalized and mistreated. The only excursions into the city Nahri is allowed are to the Grand Temple, where Ghassan cannot reasonably prevent her from going and where she will encounter only other Daevas, and interact meaningfully with only Daeva nobles. Of course, Ghassan also asks Ali to befriend Nahri, but Ali has no connections at court himself, so Nahri is unlikely to make friends among the other tribes through him.

The effect of Nahri’s isolation on her prejudices is apparent in KoC. While she once saw Daevas as a threat, she now identifies with them implicitly. She still wants to bring about peace, but now her first instinct is to see conflicts from the Daeva point of view. And this nearly does cost her allies. We see this happening with Subha--while Nahri still wants to help the shafit, she describes to Subha the conflict between the shafit as one with violence on both sides. She implies the blame and the power balance is equal when she knows full well that the Daeva had barely refrained from trying to exterminate the shafit when they were in power, and that while now under Qahtani rule, both groups are at the mercy of the djinn tribes, the Daeva are wealthy and free to come and go as they like, while the shafit are confined to Daevabad, live in squalor, and are denied jobs, health care, and education. And Subha very nearly refuses to help her with the hospital.

Separating Nahri from the other tribes not only benefits Ghassan by making it harder for Nahri for make allies, it also benefits Ghassan directly by giving him a foil. Before here arrival, he was the first Qahtani ruler to have to rule in the absence of any Nahids at court. In some ways, that’s an advantage--not having to constantly keep Manizheh in check--but I suspect it would be a disadvantage in others. When the other djinn tribes chafe at Geziri authority, Ghassan can now once again say he’s the man standing between them and a return of Nahid rule. He’s probably dying for Nahri to show obvious partisanship so he can paint her as a threat he’s protecting the djinn from.

Side note: In addition to exploiting tensions among the tribes to rule the city, Ghassan also maintains his authority by creating personal divisions among people whose power could challenge his. He does this all the time with his children: he turns his sons against each other, convincing each that Ghassan favors the other despite his own hard work and sacrifices. He tries to turn Zaynab against Ali by blaming Ali for Hatset’s banishment. Doing so dilutes their power: as Ali realizes at the end of KoC, he might have military support, but Muntadhir has a broad base of allies at court, and Zaynab has financial power in the support of the Ayaanle.

Likewise, I think it actually rather suits Ghassan that Nahri and Muntadhir never become close. He wants them to produce an heir, yes, because he wants to continue the illusion that he, Ghassan, is uniting the tribes. But he doesn’t want them to confide in each other. He doesn’t want them to become friends. Because Muntadhir knows how court works, has powerful allies, and Nahri is the Banu Nahida, and together they could create an independent power base at court. If Muntadhir, after a lifetime being manipulated by Ghassan, is too beaten down to challenge his father, Nahri certainly is not. She has the defiance and the ambition, and Muntadhir has the connections and the diplomatic ability. If the Daeva nobility started to bring their grievances not to Ghassan, who at least keeps the shafit in line, but to Muntadhir, who speaks Divasti and loves Daeva art, and his wife the last of the Nahids, that could signal a real problem for Ghassan.

{ @alizaydfuckingalqahtani I finally finished writing this like three months later, mostly because I wanted to get it down before I read Empire of Gold }

#the daevabad trilogy

56 notes · View notes

takingcourage · 4 years

Text

Playing with Fire

Pairing: M!Cassian x MC (Kellen)

Word Count: 1,450

Summary: As things with heat up with Cassian, Kellen has to pump the brakes.

Note: Ya’ll, I have no excuse for the fact that I have already written four stories (and have more WIPs) for this trashy book. I know it has massive problems with pacing and plot. I know the diamond scenes are not worth it. I know MC is a piece of work.

My muse does not care. At. All.

Anyway, this scene is what I’m hoping for on the other side of Monday’s “cliffhanger.” I’m relatively certain it’s not going to happen, but that’s what fic is for. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“I can’t resist you anymore, Kellen. I need you. All of you. Right now. No more waiting.”

Between the hard countertop and the solid heat of his body, there was little room to doubt Cassian’s intentions. His words still thundering in her ears, Kellen pushed toward him, the friction of their bodies feeding into a delirious sense of need. She didn’t know which of them had initiated the first kiss, nor the second, nor the third... As his strong arms lifted her up onto the flat surface, all she knew were his lips: impossibly soft and still salty from his time spent on the water.

Days of pent-up longing were enough to urge her forward again and again, though the tender hand that cradled the nape of her neck suggested that there was more than mere lust on his mind. Cassian didn’t just want this: he wanted her. Kellen whimpered against his mouth at the realization.

Conscious thought turned to incoherence as his hand slipped under her shirt. Agile fingers grazed her ribs, and she locked her legs around him to pull him closer. Liquid fire burned deep in her belly. This time, however, another feeling rose up to stop it: We can’t do this.

Kellen’s stomach jolted with the conviction, nostrils flaring as she tried to regain control of her senses. She pulled back to catch her breath, feeling his uncertainty when she didn’t immediately return for more. “I can’t,” she uttered, still trying to fill her thirsty lungs.

The disoriented look in his eyes sent a pang of regret through her core.

Palm to his chest, she held him back. He could overpower her easily -- some part of her was begging for him to -- but he allowed the distance. Still, the sound of his quick, shallow breathing fell on her ears, teasing the desire within her once more.

What was she doing? He was finally offering the very thing she’d been begging for since the moment she’d seen him at the station. Her body wanted his more than anything. And yet, her heart and her mind refused to comply.

“I can’t do this to you, Cassian.” Her words were barely a whisper, but he looked back at her as though he’d been shot. The hand that had been at her side fell limp between them.

Mouth falling slack with confusion, he barely managed a “Wha-” before his breath ran out. He swallowed sharply and stepped back to allow her space.

“Let’s go sit down,” she offered without moving. Subconsciously, her arms tightened around her chest. In spite of the kitchen’s heat, she caught a distinct chill.

Nodding, Cassian hiked his fingers to pull his hair away from his face. Several curls clung to the sweat on his forehead, and Kellen’s resolve wavered yet again. She had to clench her hands to keep from brushing them back for him.

What is he doing to me?

Wordless, she dropped from the counter, conscious of every ambient noise in their silence. It wasn’t until they reached the couch that she offered further explanation. “Your career is more important. You can’t sabotage everything you’ve worked for like this.” Almost as an afterthought, she added, “I won’t let you.”

At her side, Cassian worried his lip between his teeth. Dropping her eyes to her lap, Kellen tried not to think about that mouth and how much she wanted it back on hers. The efforts weren’t entirely successful, especially when one hand reached out to cup the curve of her knee. The gesture only emphasized how hungry she was for his touch.

As she pondered the unfairness of it all, his gravelly voice cut in.“I can’t risk your safety like that either. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

She knew exactly what he’d been thinking.

Their eyes met in understanding, the conflict in his brow reinforcing every frustration that had been building in her for the last thirty-six hours.

There was nothing she could do to solve this. In childhood, she’d been given everything she ever wanted. As an adult, years of hard work had led her to believe that she could conquer anything. Getting men into bed with her had never posed any particular challenge before. But this wasn’t a matter of putting her mind to something and making it come to pass.

This was insurmountable.

The knowledge released a cloud of pressure inside her skull. Although uncommon, the feeling bottling up behind her eyes was unmistakable. Acting on instinct, Kellen sprang from the couch, fully intending to dart into the downstairs bathroom.

Cassian’s grip fell away easily, but his voice still held her fast. “Kellen, please...”

“I’m not--” she protested as her throat throbbed with the influx of tears. Even as the words passed her lips, her resolve crumbled under the weight of desperation. She sank back to the couch, elbows knocking against her knees as she fought to hide her face.

His arm circled her shoulders, providing a sense of stability that ran counter to everything she was feeling inside. Ignoring her best judgment, she relaxed into the touch. For the first time in her life, crying felt safe.

Cassian had her tucked against his chest, close enough that she could feel its steady rise and fall. Cheek resting against the well-word fabric of his shirt, she was more secure than she had been in months.

He didn’t try to offer advice or talk her into rational thinking. There was no exasperated sigh to warn her that she needed to get her emotions in check. No reminder that tears were childish and unlikely to solve anything. Cassian held her, and that was all.

When the initial onslaught had subsided, she eased far enough out of his embrace to wipe her eyes with her sleeve. “I never cry,” she attempted lamely.

He studied her face for a moment before thumbing away a smear of eyeliner from her cheek."Of course not. It’s got to be those onions again.”

Kellen choked out a sound that had more in common with sobbing than laughter. Between his patience with her and his accepting nature, the man beside her was practically a saint.

Settling back against the cushions, he casually replaced the arm at her side. “Really now, Kellen. You’ve been through too much in the last three days. I don’t know how you’ve made it this far without crying, to be honest.”

“I just want my life back,” she whispered. The power inherent in the statement threatened to make the tears roll a second time, but she tamped them down. More still needed to be said.

“I want to enjoy my promotion and get used to all of my new responsibilities at work. I want to see that first paycheck hit my account, then buy an outrageously expensive bottle of whiskey to celebrate.” Shaking her head at the thought, she continued. “I want to sleep in my own bed. I want to wear my own clothes again. I’d really like to talk to Harika... And I’m trying to see situation this as an opportunity instead of a punishment, but that’s hard when I spend the entire day doing unskilled labor in a shack and worrying that the world outside is going to forget me. It’s like the real Kellen doesn’t even exist anymore.”

The admission did a great deal to lighten the weight on her chest, but it wasn’t quite enough. There was more to this than just the frustration of losing control. Remembering the man next to her, she returned to the subject that had brought them here in the first place.

“And I want you,” she managed finally, “I want you so much. But I need to start living with the fact that I can’t have you.”

The hand on her shoulder squeezed firmly in support, and she felt his long curls brush over her cheek before he spoke. “You can’t have me yet,” he corrected. “When this is over, I promise you can have as much of me as you want.”

It was far too early for her to know exactly how much that was, but she didn’t waste her time worrying about the future. Warming at his promise, Kellen finally extracted herself from his arms completely. She sat up straight to right the wrinkles in her shirt. Then, recalling what had transpired in the kitchen, she buttoned the neckline one notch higher. “I’ll try to go a little easier on you in the meantime.”

He followed the motion of her fingers for a half second, only to look away again with resignation. “It’s for the best. But not too easy, okay? I like that fiery side of ya.”

Smiling boldly, she offered the only promise she could: “I’ll see what I can do.”

#playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #witness: a bodyguard romance #cassian keane #cassian x mc

31 notes · View notes

throwingideasatthewall · 4 years

Text

Star Wars Episode 4;

Destroy malevolence

Didn’t we just do that?

I’m assuming this is going to be focusing on the aftermath of the destruction of the malevolence

And the preceding unraveling of general grievous’s net work

[And several acquaintances probably trying to break him out,]

Anyway...

On with It!

Quote;

“A Plan is only as good as those who see it out,”

Odd I’ve Stopped giving much stock into the quotes

Consider ing the last one had a relatively good one

And Is on the lower end of my expectations

My criticism of this Is a Short Plans can be good But People flawed

The narrator sounds a bit more enthusiastic

Weirdly drawn out pause

But it does get the point across

Allows enough time

“ Grievous in retreat,” Honestly Is this where we’re going to start

Like no disrespect- (I have the patience) But are we honestly going to spend the whole entire time watching Obi-Wan fuck up catching Grievous?

That would work with the theme of Jedi Masters

They make it seem a lot less stupid

[Recap

Also I really like the movement on the ship

Much more real istic

Continuing to Hold on it not so much

This is like someone continuously kicking someone when they’re already down

Or like a fire

After a while it just gets sort of boring

Or worrying

And you realize they could just take them into custody

Or that the fire is starting to envelope nearby forest With everyone having a bucket of water

Obi wan, why

Do you torment so?

He can’t even die

If so; He’d be dead

I love how Plo Koon and him are just watching the shit show like “Bitch”

You know they could both take him

But are just that dedicated to being sandry old man

“Commander, how much damage to the enemy ship?”

Have they suffered enough?

Also, geez dude’s been demoted it to commander

I mean I know he’s just Comms Guy But geez. (He probably deserved it)

Oh no, Random dude On The ground

Why?

“ She’s lost primary shields and stabilizers,”

So shooting at it is doing minimal damage

“ It can take all the fire our cannons can manage,”

Okay, time to get you two down there

“ we must summon reinforcements,”

Plo is slowly becoming that we “need reinforcements” guy

Like he can’t do anything by himself

(Except for last episode)

“ That’s why I’m here Master Plo,”

That’s not the right tone

And..... I was kind of hoping we’d get a Master Plo and Obi-Wan episode

This time around

Never mind the fact that Anakin can’t take on grievous

“ what are you able to contact Master (Liam Niara) (That’s how voice text spells it) (I have no idea)

“ Yes, master,”

That’s better

“She’s busy with a bunch of separatist reinforcement’s nearby,”

Bit too much eye movement but otherwise good

“ she won’t be able to give us support till she’s turn ing them away,”

Meanwhile you’ve already pretty much kill ed him

Guess just play poker?

Then we’ll have to do with what we have

Oh now with the teenager around you’re so brave

How’s that going to help?

Burning

On fire

Really, no mercy

Poor droid jerking around

Ex ploding

Perfect balance of kar mic pay back

“We’ve lost our primary weapon,”

Shit just continues to get worse and worse

General grievous is just there with his hands in his head

Not looking too great

“ The hyper drive is dis -abled,”

It’s been disabled since last episode but good repeating

Good to re-iterate

“Argh,”

“ General general,”

The forward engines are shutting down

“ im poss ible,”

Dude, look around

That’s pretty - heavy denial

You should just sur -render

More Sho -oting

This is going to be a sl -ow ep i sode

Ahsoka Managing systems

A not bad role for her

Certain-

“ Admiral Status- Re port,”

Shit’s fucked once again

They’re hyperdrive must be damaged

What you didn’t figure out the first time will Obi won must’ve checked

Compulsively For the 170th time in the last hour

“This our chance”

It wasn’t a few seconds ago?

“all ships target the bridge maximum fire power,”

Dude, what do you think that’ll do

Grievous is made out of pure titanium

It’s like.. a slightly long fall for him..

Generals.. really don’t wanna deal with Grievous’s shit today

Episode is 22:40 Long Left

All they’re doing is shooting at him

Grievous Called Dooku

“Dad I crashed the car,”

Sustained advanced damage

“ I know,”

Just dead panned

“ I have arranged a trap,”

Oohh! Interesting

But Also completely bullshit

Guess this is his punishment

Being used as bait

“To give you an advantage over the Jedi,”

“ I assure you,”

Please no

You’re not compound your failure this day,”

Ah, there’s the chewing out I was looking for

Perfect

Continue

“ war ship to fall,”

Oh so it wasn’t going to be a - get them sent to prison- thing

So how are you planning to unfuck the situation

Cause this looks pretty bad

They will never catch me or this ship

Bless him he’s trying

The expression just says ‘I have no idea how’

Like He knows what’s expected of him but has no idea

How?!

Heading towards you is a very important galactic senat or,”

In the middle of a war zone

Seriously not a good time for a photo op

“ With her as a hostage,”

“call off the attack,”

Ok no one is calling off an attack this important for a senator

Nor should be letting her get captured ....

*Bowing down*

*Assumed authority*

Blue

It looks remarkably better this episode 👍 Also of course it’s Padme Amidala Couldn’t be any of the 4000 other senators we know nothing about

Really getting into the love triangle stuff right away, aren’t we?

Like why couldn’t we slow burn it

(I know she was in the movie) But

I wouldn’t mind “Are you sure the infor mation from the chan cellor Palpatine is reliable?”

Fore shadowing!

Good job authors you get a cookie

“ it was secretly given to him by the leader of the Bank-he Clan, himself!”

Okay Amidala’s tone kinda works

Could use a little more monotone but it works

I gave Anakin like three tries so I’m not gonna be too harsh

There is still time for the minimal improve ment it needs

“ if they leave the separatist alliance it will go along way to shortening this war,”

Er- Okay it makes sense for her character

She’s sup posed to be around the same age as Anakin

“Beep, Beep,”

“ We’re approaching the system now,”

“Oh shit,”

Crud

“ my goodness,”

Best Droid

“This isn’t right,”

Then Move!

That’s a droid warship

“We’re in the middle of a battle!”

Hey, that’s a smart character

Hyper drive out of there

“ we’re scanning a small ship off our bow,”

Get out of there “ Good,”

Yeah, how are you going to get her?

Seeing as how like a million warships are belting your bow?

I know those must be like raindrops to him

But come on

Don’t go into the burn -ing wreckage

And towards enemy fire

Then again she was probably heading towards the Jedi ship

So (as a civilian) that makes sense

“Master I’m picking up a signal near the enemy vessel,”

Tone

Enemy reinforcements

That’s- A Good Call

Respectively

“ it looks like-”

“A Naboo ship”

“Gunners stand day,”

Hey everyone’s competent today!

(Not that there’s anything wrong with enablers being stupid)

This just requires more brain power

“ what in Blazers are they doing out here?”

A valid response

But weren’t they the ones that pledged transport ships?

Like oh yeah stupid going out into a war zone

But not completely out of the question

“ Ahsoka contact that ship,”

Bit too much energy

But still resp ect able

Literally coming from fiery hell

Identify yourself

“Padme what are you doing out here,”

Cringe

That line sounds like boomer. What boomers think high school jocks sound like

And we’re like no

“ I was sent on a special mission,”

Good job Writers

The ‘Bang he Klan Wanted to negotiate a treaty

Good reason

“Get out of there,”

Too Force ful

Better Idea; Have Obi-Wan try to calmly explain the situation to her

Possibly distracting her for general grievous to kidnap

“ Activate the tractor beam,”

Damn we’re going back to old old sci Fi- with tractor beams and shit

I was expecting like a hook and chain, a harpoon

Was not expecting that

That made me laugh

WTF

Tell them some nonsense is going on!

“i’m afraid it’s much worse than that,” Gunners Do Something?!

it’s a beam; it can be broken

“ Padme what’s happening?”

A go- decent response

“ i’m being pulled inside the droid cruiser by a tractor beam,”

Good Commun ication

Whelp, Done

So at 22: 40 Rest of the episode is hostage situ ation?

Inter es ting

Much Better Than Just Shooting at it for an hour

“I will not be made a separatist bargaining chip,”

Initiative

Though Less Emo -tion

Should be recited like something she had to read off a paper

Guessing I’m not Padme I’m Padme’s handmaiden thing only works once

Continue your attack

You must continue-

I hope she get some actual action

Nothing too intense because she’s still a kid

But like a surprise attack on General grievous

Destroy this monstrous ship

That’s kind of like-

How-

I saw the next frame

Wtf-

WTF

HIS FACE JUST-

CON-torts

You are not Romeo and Juliet movie

You are two kids reinacting Romeo and Juliet clumsy

Get it right

“Admiral, order our ships to stop firing,”

No one’s gonna stop this

No one‘s gonna comment...

Okay....

Obi-Wan And Plo Koon are just gone

Left when Anakin started acting unchild like

Never mind still there

Nothing suspicious *Rubs beard*

Whelp

It does not look safe out there my lady

Screw with the tractor beam and leave

No one can stop you

Droid Related

“I see now this whole thing was a trap,”

The Bang’he Clan Works With The-

I can’t even make that joke because the bang’he clan are working with the separatists

Good writers you out joked me

“ we walked right into it,”

Pressing buttons isn’t going to help lady

Sir the republic cruisers have halted their attack

Bit too much emotion for a droid but it works

“Jedi are so predictable,”

Hit him with a gun

Get the repair team up here

“ i’m going down to the main hanger,”

The arm motion was a little weird... for ‘I’m going down to the main hanger’

Street Railways?

Are we getting *tour the inside of the ship??

Nice

This ship must be returned to Count Dooku intact

Nice little interaction

Rail ways

There’s no room for failure

Hard Moral

One on fast speed ing train

Moves over to another pad

Don’t think that’s gonna help

“Come on I’ve over loaded the power system,”

THAT’S actually really clever

Good job whoever gave that order

General grievous goes boom

Fighter door opens

Find a Fighter

And fly out

* Anakin walks away*

You know this would be a good idea if Obi-Wan had ordered him to do so when feeling the emotion of ‘love’, miscommunicating the concept of love, and didn’t realize that’s what he was doing - what clues him in

“ where do you think you’re going,”

“ someone’s got to save her,”

Still too much emotion

“I thought you might say that,”

Did you give him that, did you give him an order relevant to that?

There he goes again

Yeah Someone should really check up on that

Or get Obi-Wan to lay off the suicidal orders

“Craving adventures and excitement,”

No, orders

“ You get used to it”

Could be just a response

But too much reaction And Person ality

Oh, Shit’s On Fire

“Come on 3PO hurry,”

Flaming wreck lady

“not sure this is such a good idea,”

Neither is being held captive

You’re made of like solid gold

Timing

[also the announce in the background like a train station - just cracks me up]

Time to get blown up

“ Mind the gap”

“Mind the gap”

Haha

You two come with me

Command

That droid’s-

No, wait- It’s Amidala

And C3PO

He’s trying to help

Looks Inside

Beeping

Timer

Look like the engine- Are Set To -

Timing

“Destroy themselves,”

He really needed them to say that

Get out of my way

“Ow,” You don’t want to die

That’s just rude

So is death

You should get out of there

He’s going to come back around

Geez

Fire squad is a train wreck

They’re Trying

Crud if this gets back to Skywalker and he thinks she’s dead

After That Speech

Who knows what toxic morals of love Obi-Wan taught him could activate

This could become a train wreck

Ahhh!

It got worse

Seriously who made the droids that have to with stand high water pressure Light weights

Oof

Even high water pressure cannot kill him

Even running away cannot save him

Wonder what that attack would’ve done

Sound the alarm

“We have stowaways,”

Or...

She was never on that ship

Seriously no one besides the republic saw her

I’d go with “she isn’t on board,”

Run

Back to the republic ships

Who are doing nothing while grievous rebuilds

Like, The medical station is right there

You might want to get back on moving them

Just Saying

“ i’ve trusted you already formulated a brilliant plan to rescue the Senator,”

“ as a matter of fact I have,”

Umm,

Weird How to Code that

“ what do you have a Plan B Every good plan has a back up,”

Stop forcing his dependence on you

“ I don’t have a back up yet,”

Too much emotion

Really

Questioning

Not really helping his self-esteem

Really “ we’ll sneak behind them and dock at the emergency air lock,”

So I’m guessing this is going to set up Padme going there

“ That’s your plan?” Discouraging

“Fly land,”

That’s literally what all maneuvers rely on

Also it sounds like something out of a fairy book

Which might explain Anakin toxic behavior

“ Walk in the door,”

“Basically,”

Too much emotion

“Oh Brilliant,”

Dick

Firey Wreck

“ Might I suggest we keep moving?”

Bit Loud There It

“ I think I hear battle droids approaching,”

Talking is not helping

“But we also need to contact the fleet,”

Getting out is the prerogative

They don’t know where you are

And you can’t stay in a constant location

If I can just keep this com panel working

Ahhh!

Well just disappeared

“The Damage to the hyper drive was not as bad as we first thought,”

How?!

It’s been damaged for about two episodes

Also, Good for Her

“ We’ll be able to get underway again shortly,”

With this mess of a ship

Hyperdrive would send half of it flying

It’s barely holding together by a string

You’re screwed

I must inform count Dooku

Seems oddly suspic.

Continue the search

Find the stowaway

How does that change anything in Amidala’s eyes

Getting to know the boss isn’t worth it

Just be more careful

Roger, roger

Commander

Intimidating

*Spark*

Oh She Was In A Cabinet

Thought she made it in

C3PO Looks creepy in one frame

Shit’s Constantly on fire

“If they spot us we’ll be pulverized,”

With what guns??

You’ve been doing all the hitting this entire time

They’ve been sitting Geese

“They’re too busy repairing the ship,”

Thank you

[also Obi-Wan complainers rules]

“ They don’t have time to notice us,”

Cocky

Subtlety has never been one of your strong points Anakin

Neither Yours Person who orders him!

“ Everything I know I learned from you master,”

Point Yes Attitude? No

Oh if only that was true

Should Be

Might be a side jab at how he took orders from the Chancellor

There we go

Only Obi-Wan was worried

“Didn’t You Hear It,”

Your circuits are loose

Or maybe you’ve lost your hearing

From the impact

“ No one’s crazy enough to do that,”

Cut

“Anakin”

Perfect

“You’re Crazy,”

You groomed him this way

“ spinning is not flying”

“But it’s a good trick,”

Too much emotion

Do not want to be spotted

Good job

You’re standing more in the doorway than he is

“I knew it it’s them,”

That droid is just having a day

Aww But his friend came down to check with him

That’s adorable

Oh no

They’re backing off peacefully

ASSHOLES!

Obi-wan specifically

You stay here R2

Again why did you bring him

Another bold strategy by -

Say Skywalker

‘Skywalker’

Ordered

“I presume,”

No, Obi-Wan’s

When it’s not Palpatine’s

“That’s my master”

Children don’t show preference for handlers

“ once they rescue the Senator we will need to reinforcement to finish off the enemy

Sounds nonsense but OK

Dude really Likes enforcement’s “ i’m on my way,”

“Master Plo”

“ We’re receiving a transmission,”

Padme

Weird distance to start a conversation at

Running for some reason

“ Master we found the senator,”

Good

“ We’re patching Her through,”

Helpful...?

What is it with Skywalker and becoming a Barking over- animated Puppet Every time senator Amidala gets involved ?

“Anakin where are you,”

Better; where are your coordinates

“ On lower levels,”

Better but where

“I don’t know,”

Give a better location

For how long

Problem with this whole plan

Give Landmarks

Get to the rendezvous point

“Obi won and I are on board too,”

Better; get to the ship on level ____ on your ___ side Optional; Closest landmark ____

We’ll meet you there

What what are you doing?

Not the best point to argue

Ahsoka, how can we get to the senator

Better how can we both get to the escape pad?

In case we both get separated

Taking longer to coordinate that complicated-

How long till they get separated?

Center of the ship

Half way between the two of you

Neither Ahsoka gave neither

Bad instructions

“ we’re on our way

To a very unspecified point on not specified level at a not specified time

Let the hijinks commence

“ Did you hear that Padme?”

You’re on the same com

“ i’ll be there,”

Some-how

The question to my answer was 22:40

When do the Hijinks begin?

Let’s See

Marching Intimidated

“we just detected An unauthorized communication Coming from within the ship,”

Shouldn’t he be making a phone call?

“ what did it say?”

Interesting

Well we don’t know

That’s how encoding works

We didn’t catch it in time

Off

Droid winces

Monitor all internal communications

Like they’ll do it again

I want that senator on this bridge

Good luck with that

You haven’t even saw her

Rail-ways

Nice

Busy

Should be a cakewalk

Is Not a cakewalk

All the way up there

“I do not see her,”

Yeah, that’s the problem-

She’s here master

I sent it

Or you got the wrong port

(So you heard her voice so she’s clearly somewhere on this ship)

He’s probably late again

But we do have company of another sort

Oh She has a gun

And somehow none of that hits her

And of course that gets the attention

I’m honestly glad they didn’t go with miscommunication Causes fake stand up scenario

Even if this is faux Romeo and Juliet

Good job

Lots of jumping

Look Jedi

Good job nice guy

No wait That one guy had common sense

“I knew that was a bad idea,”

Mercy

That you didn’t show on the other guys

Who were far more hesitant

And you took out that one guy

Who didn’t do anything

Just wasn’t as vocal

Dicks

Jump The peashooter isn’t doing the job?

Jump

He tried

Power Thrust

Ana kin

“ There. they are!”

Bull shit

No way

he saw those guys

On all those Packages

Also ‘the i knew It was a bad Idea Guy Got New Friends

“Fire!”

Fuck

The bridge is out

“Jump to me,”

Try it with a little bit more disinterest

“ I’ll use the force”

Even she realizes it’s not that intense

“ You have to trust me,”

Good Luck

OMG

It looks like she just falls

Also Obi-wan’s in the back like it’s none of my business

Like dude came on a rescue mission And has become completely useless never helped once Complained the whole way there

Manages

“Got you,”

“ NICE CATCH,” Obi -Wan from the sidelines

10/10 Hilarious

“ I’ll fetch the droid,”

What??

This isn’t cute

Disgusting

“Oh the things you do to get me alone,”

KIDS don’t-

Ack-

Please no more smoopy-

nope

I’m putting it in the “bad” corner Till it stops trying to ship children

Bad Movie

That’s Not Cute

Obi-wan Sucks

Can’t even levitate A Droid

“Stop me please”

Poor Droid

Blast You’re Weak

“ That’s not good”

Yeah you’re weak

“Anakin I got separated from your droid,” Thank God

I’ll take care of it

Better “ We’ll meet you back at the Twilight”?

“ I overheard grievous,”

Annnnnd

“ They’re hyper-drive is nearly fixed,”

Soooo, He better get you back to the ship so we can start blasting it with Cannon balls again?

“ i’m already headed in that direction,”

Soooooo, don’t do it, Obi-wan?

Or have Anakin and take the extremely important senator And come back for you later?

“ i’ll make sure the hyperdrive stays off line,”

By shooting it with more cannon-balls?

Ha ha Ha ha ha

We’ll see about that

What?! Person who can do nothing!

Like seriously if they just go back to the ship-

That Jedi

“I’m getting you out of here,”

Good decisions

“I need you to help me find 3PO,”

How?

“ I know I know he does,”

Padme’s expression

“And i’ll be there soon,”

That’s almost adorable

Oh like that

‘Someone stop this contraption,”

Careful Words

Yeet

There We Go

Into those boxes

“ I suppose I did ask for that,”

Ha-he

That got a small giggle out of me

Stomping

Bait

Murderous Intent

Get Fucked Obi Wan

Really rolling out all the stops

Hahaha

“ Hello there,”

[Took a pause. a long break]

General Kenobi

“ kill him,”

Straight. To. The. Point.

More in line with the characterization we’ve seen up so far, not that much for conversation

Dude’s just rolling

There went the others

Bowling pins they are

Oh grievous has a gun

And hiding behind the enemy

Thought he sent both those guys flying

Apparently I was wrong

Must’ve Been a Third

Didn’t Work

Yeet

That poor Droid...

Spark*

That was impressive

Nah he ran around things

It really set up your forces for a brawl among them selves

“Argh,”

Dude, how insecure

“ Guard the hyperdrive,”

Oh yeah he did shit to it

Also sending basic level mooks to deal with it

Shooting Things

Again how did Anakin and Padme end up in the situation?

They were at the train station last

Now they’re at??

And have agroed every enemy

Who should be focusing on Obi-Wan because

That was their last order

Grievous has just completely ignored Anakin

Hiding

You aggroed Them!

Why are you calling Obi -Wan

“Come in Obi-wan,”

Get her to the shuttle

“ i’m afraid grievous is onto us,”

“We noticed,”

Hey you guys Aggroed those guys completely on your own don’t blame Grievous for this

“Ack,”

Those are Tanks

You’re peashooter isn’t going to do much

Also, Anakin shouldn’t be able to take them either

This should be a properly terrifying moment

“ We’ll meet you back on the twilight,”

Good plan

“Obi- Wan!”

Writers don’t screw this up

“Come In,”

His communicuff clearly got damaged

What’s wrong?!

They’re jamming all communication

No again it’s far more likely that his communicuff Got Damaged (Especially with Grievous listening in,”

Not everything is jammed communi cations Yeet, yeet Yeet

That should not work Those are tanks

Anakin is a lightweight

His skill set is unspecified

But he shouldn’t be able to cut more than butter with that knife

Light wieght clankers should pose a challenge

Due to the amount of energy

“That might buy us some time

Unlikely

I suppose you have a plan Yeah, Get to the escape pad

Follow Me

...To the escape pod

C3PO I do believe I’m lost

Seriously you haven’t found this guy

Enemy Territory

And all alone

You’re a service droid

Probably wouldn’t notice anything

“Ah,”

Dude, they’d probably just adopt you into the clan

“ I surrender,”

Again I really want to see the C3PO and battle droids conversation

(When not aware of the other side)

It’s a projector... R2 D2

“ you are a sight for old eyes,”

A nice interaction

“ Master Anakin sent you to find me,”

“ what kept you then?”

He does have a point

Dude got thrown off the train about an hour ago

R2′s just been messing with him

“ follow me,”

“ The general is demanding a status report,”

Oh some driod on droid interactions (without the general)

Nice

Is the hyperdrive re-paired Yet

From there?

“ i’ll give him the good news,”

This isn’t the escape pad

Did you take a wrong detour?

Also no one guarding the super important one panel repair

Just Light weight clankers

Also that’s not good news

(Especially considering it’s one panel)

Surprised this goes so well

Also; now there’s tanks

Surprised you think that peashooter can do anything ma’am

Like seriously should’ve grabbed a bigger gun

The droids have some

And you can’t tell me there hasn’t been artillery laying around this entire time

Yeet

That almost- Turned into murder This is why not going to the escape pods immediately was a bad idea

Again this should be a stressful fight

But turning your child soldier Into an all powerful can never lose child soldier

Is bullshit movie

Opened Door

“Ever since I’ve known you you’ve been playing with droids,”

Ack

“I used to put them together,”

Alright...

Now I only take them apart Child soldiering...

It sucks

So, where do we start

GETTING TO THE ESCAPE PAD!

Obi-Wan supposed to be here any minute!

With whole lot of bullshit!

Move!

First we need to get one of these droids so they don’t know we were here

No destroy the thing and go

They’ll figure it out in like five seconds

When they go to start the thing up!

Running is a good option

“I’m gonna hot wire this ship,”

How does this make anything better?

He’s already down and in kicking position

Everyone’s waiting for Amidala

You’re not helping, good sir!

(In fact I’m pretty sure you’d have to fix something To make it go,”

Secondly, This is a HUGE -ass ship

As a reason it has an electrical team

Squeezing two little wires

Isn’t going to do much

It requires continuous effort to different parts of the ship To make a dent

And I truly doubt such a large ship is going to have such a non-complicated Start-up compared to hotwiring a car

Point being; this shouldn’t work

Give Grievous a little surprise

Again if it’s anything less Then a bomb

Dude isn’t gonna have much trouble

And this is a waste of time

I’ll guess I’ll clean up the droids then

LITERally im possible

That’s a tank!

You carry light weaponry!

Back to the fleet

Plo Koon Is doing nothing

Having tea and cookies with Ahsoka

Our ships are in attack position

So... nothings changed

“Master Skywalker,”

No one else either

“No,”

Deadpanned

“ The droids are jamming our transmissions,”

(More likely reason for that on a -damaged ship)

But Ergh-

“We need to give him more time,”

Opinion!

“ i’m sure we can,”

I’ve been sitting on my ass-

[Plo’s Head Moves -Railway]

We’re back here again?

Obi-Wan should be at the station by now

Everything is behind him

Yeet

Make it to the Coms center

Break Some Shit

Oof Those Poor Droids Good Pa rell els

Splat!

Obi won looking back-and-forth

Obi-Wan you are a Jedi master this shouldn’t be hard

Run

Tum ble

I was fully planning on him stacking it

Roof

Also, Obiwan

Stop fecking Around

Get to the place

Woof

How

Did you end up falling over?

Ironically Obi-Wan shows less emotion than Anakin

* Slashing the train*

Okay... what did I do

Snarky little shit

Could be snarkier

“That oughta do it,”

Ana -kin Doing Obi-wan’s Job

Also Oh shit is he plugging in the location of that supposed fight with master-

How’s the house cleaning going-

Im-

That dude made out of -metal

He is FIVE times your bodyweight!

HOW?

Done?

You MOVED a Tank??

HOW-

That’s-

What ever

* Guys coming in*

Oh yeah that’s a door

I guess repairs are finished

Or they went on lunch break

Prepared to charge up the hyperdrive

Right on it

“Roger, Roger,” -famous last words

Sparking

Driving

Are we seriously waiting on these two

“Are you quite sure the ship is in that direction?

He’s basically a GPS

That way looks potentially dangerous

All of them do

“Haz ardous,”

Better Example beeping irritatedly

“I know the whole place is dangerous,”

Thank you R2- D2

“ I suggest we stay here and let master Anakin find us,”

Bad idea

A better idea than anyone in the ‘let’s meet up in an undisclosed location’ came up with

Good idea

3PO

Fecking Irony

“Don’t just stand there,”

See?

“Let’s get back to the ship,”

Irony

Power up the engines R2

You know Obi-Wan’s likely going to screw up your shit right

*obi-Wan comes around the corner,*

Dude you have shit to screw up

Did you forget?

There shouldn’t be an escape pod for you

What

Hold the ship

No, you didn’t do anything...

Then again he could just cannonball it

How’s that-

Okay Very light bullshit

“ i’ll contact the fleet,”

It’s the most you’ve done this entire time

Focus On The chair

Do cking Clamp

There We Go

Off We Go

It’s still Burning

Grievous Off

Why?

He doesn’t know

Obi-Wan’s off the ship

Last saw him on the train...

(Not followed up on directly)

Flighters, Where I thought they all got destroyed?!

All batteries open fire

Again Plo Koon does not give a shit who dies

(Until sitting on his ass gets too boring)

Also this isn’t his fleet

They shouldn’t listen to him

(Especially after he got his last one killed)

More Shooting at the burning wreck

Turb ulence

And Obi-Wan still didn’t do his job

Guns

You can shoot back at any time

“ I wa-”

Obi-wan being completely useless

Anakin having too much emotion

“I got it,”

Shoo ting stuff

Somehow doesn’t go down immediately

Hit

“ She seems to know her way around,”

Gross

Hit Something

The Hyper Drive

-repaired

Also Obi-Wan didn’t fuck up shit

Dis appointed

Also it certainly as frick isn’t now

After they’ve been shooting

Should we retreat to friendly space?

If You can make there it with it in one piece (Which was the qualifications)

Engage the hyperdrive

With me not on it

“Secret base sector four,”

Interesting

“Prepare-”

Enthus iastic

“Yes, Sir,”

Fighters still chasing

Intense

“Nice Shoot,”

Gross

“Beginners luck,”

Beeping

“Pardin-”

“Hyperdrive is activating,”

Obi-Wan

“ Oh-shit Caught in a lie.”

“-what”

-They’re getting hit with cannonballs Anakin what did you do ?!

(What Did I order you to do?)

Coordinates are locked

“Hyperdrives engaging,”

Shit’s about to go-

Ar-

Sp- arking

Glitzy display Base

“ I think there’s a problem,”

“General I think there’s a problem with the hyperdrive,”

Yeah The ship got refired upon it’s probably re broken

Seriously

“ I thought the hyperdrive was fixed,”

And then it got shot again...

The navigate computer is heading a straight into the moon

What ??

Fools reset the Navi computer

“Quick,”

Tech Support

Dooku

Worst time to call

(Don’t think it could’ve gone more sideways)

Also good job Anakin You crash landed them on a planet with significantly larger surface area and resources that they can use to re-build

Aka you made things harder than they needed to be

Obi-Wan, what are you ordering this kid

Narrowed eyes

-No reset it

“General,”

Harsh

But I’m interested in where this is going

Since Grievous has had a lot of shit thrown at him

Doesn’t matter which side of enablers he still enabling

But I suppose over involved positivity Would be kind of a nice change for him

Over over involved negativity

Speeds off

“Trans -mission Has been cut,”

Intentionally

* also smart droid

“ We’re Gonna die

[Explosion]

How?!

Whelp Obi-Wan has to have a sit down talk with Anakin. about the ‘ Drive the ship into the moon,’ order

Also I realized (thanks to Obi-Wan) they know nothing about what just happened Grievous either decided to just end it

or they’re all dead

Obi-Wan

Dick move

“ I imagine you had something to do with that,”

WTF- orders

“ all part of the plan,”

Obi-Wan schooled Anakin in extraterrestrial terrorism

Cheering at least the ion cannon isn’t coming back

Nice shot

...So Destroy Malevolence

I have to say I really like this episode

Despite the plot stretched thin

There was a noticeable increase in the quality of animation

The child characters were good

The other characters were a lot more consistent And a lot smarter

0 notes

kk095 · 5 years

Text

Hey everyone, here's my latest story. It may have a typo here or there. Feel free to leave feedback. Enjoy!

Hit & Run

Kim was a 24 year old Asian woman who had shoulder-length brown hair, brown eyes, and a petite frame. She was a cute, shy girl who worked downtown in I.T. as an app developer. On a morning not too long ago, her typical commute to work took a tragic turn.

Since parking is limited downtown, Kim usually parked her car in a parking garage a few blocks away from her job and walked the rest of the way. While crossing the street in a crosswalk, a car sped around the corner, blowing through the red light, and striking Kim. She had very little time to react, so she stood frozen in fear for the half second it took for the speeding vehicle to run into her. The car initially struck Kim in her right thigh. She fell forward, slamming her torso on the hood of the car. She tumbled violently across the hood of the car before coming to a hard landing on the pavement as the car sped off, completely disregarding what had just happened.

A handful of nearby onlookers called 911, completely shaken up by what just happened. Kim laid in the street, battered and moaning in pain. “Help me…” she muttered. Kim had strong, throbbing pain in her right thigh and felt a sharp pain in her chest when she inhaled. She knew she was seriously hurt, but didn’t know the full extent.

A small crowd of nosey onlookers began to form around the injured woman. “are you ok miss?!” one of them asked. One of the members of the crowd started taking a video on their phone. Kim groaned and begged for help from the spectators.

In just a few short minutes, emergency services arrived on scene. Police ordered the nosey crowd to back away from Kim and the fire department set up cones and barricades to temporarily block off the street so first responders and emergency vehicles can gain access to the scene. Traffic was then redirected so the ambulance can pull in.

When the medics arrived, they promptly started their assessment of Kim. The paramedics discovered a compound fracture of the right femur. The exposed bone had to be reset and immobilized as soon as possible to avoid complications such as infections, fat embolism, circulation disturbances to the lower leg, or improper healing. While the medics reset the exposed bone, Kim yelped and cried loudly. After the bone was reset, the laceration on the anterior thigh was bandaged, and a splint was placed on the thigh. Even though Kim had sensation and movement in her lower extremities, a cervical collar was placed to play it safe. Kim’s winter jacket and shirt were cut off, only sparing her purple bra. The medics noticed bruising and redness all over Kim’s chest, which raised a red flag. A portable heart monitor was set up in order to monitor vital signs. Initially, Kim’s vital signs were: BP 94/57, heart rate 118 bpm, and an o2 saturation of 93%. The EGK was abnormal, showing an alternating tall-short QRS complex sporadically. At that point, EMS decided to set up 2 large bore IVs. The first attempt at IV access was unsuccessful since Kim wasn’t an easy stick, but IV access was obtained on attempt #2. A bag of ringer’s lactate was hung to initiate fluid resuscitation and 1 dose of morphine was injected intravenously for pain management. Kim was then placed onto a backboard and stretcher, and taken into an ambulance for transportation to the ER.

Kim remained hemodynamically unstable during transport. The ringer's lactate maintained her vital signs, but didn’t necessarily improve them; all they did was buy her much needed time. Her breathing didn’t improve, so the medic in the back of the ambulance examined Kim with a stethoscope. Diminished breath sounds on the right side were noted, as well as muffled heart sounds. The medic decided to set Kim up on a nasal cannula with high flow oxygen. For the remainder of the ambulance ride, Kim remained responsive, but her condition didn’t improve much. She laid on the stretcher, trying her best to fight back tears. “am I gonna die?” she asked the medic. “we’re taking good care of you miss, just hang in there for us!” the medic replied, attempting to be reassuring.

Minutes later, the ambulance came to a stop in the hospital’s ambulance bay. The back doors swung open while the trauma team waited just a few feet away. The paramedics wheeled Kim out of the ambulance and into the ER’s entrance while the trauma team followed. “take her to trauma 1” one of the doctors said. “what do we have?” another doctor asked. “24 year old female, auto vs pedestrian. Hypotensive, tachy, 93% o2. Open femur fracture was reduced and splinted, possible chest injury. Diminished breath sounds on the right. We gave her a bag of lactate and a round of morphine. Patient has movement and sensation in all extremities, pupils are equal and reactive, and patient is awake and alert.” The medic replied, trying to give a quick rundown. “thank you, we’ll take it from here.” One of the doctors replied.

Once Kim was in the trauma room, she was lifted onto the table. It was all overwhelming for her: all of the people barking orders at one another, the bright light above her, and the sense of urgency everyone had. Kim lost her composure and began sobbing hysterically and saying “please, I don’t wanna die!” the trauma nurses tried to calm Kim down so the doctors could work.

After Kim was calmed down, the rest of her clothes were removed, making her completely nude in a room full of absolute strangers. Kim continued crying while she was long rolled off of the backboard and examined for any back/spinal injuries. After returning her to her previous position, the trauma team ordered trauma labs, a chest x-ray, and a FAST scan. The chest x-ray showed a stable, non-displaced transverse fracture of the eternal manubrium, multiple stable rib fractures on both sides of the thorax, and tension pneumothorax on the right side. The FAST scan showed pericardial effusion and a myocardial contusion. The FAST scan came back negative for the abdomen and pelvis.

Based on initial findings, the trauma team began Kim on the massive transfusion protocol. 4 units of unmatched o-negative blood, 2 units of platelets, and 2 units of FFP were hung from the infuser. With transfusion started, the trauma team’s next step was to address the tension pneumothorax on the right side. Since Kim was hemodynamically unstable, the attending physicians didn’t feel comfortable with sedating Kim during the chest tube placement.

Kim was given lidocaine while a small area on her right chest was cleaned off with rubbing alcohol. A 1 inch incision was made in between her ribs. Kim felt the cold, sharp blade’s every move as it cut through her skin with both ease and precision. When an adequate opening was created, the chest tube was inserted. Kim screamed and cried loudly in excruciating pain. Both air and blood leaked from the tube, allowing the young woman’s lung to reinflate.

Once proper chest tube placemen was confirmed, the trauma team focused on the pericardial effusion. Trauma surgery and cardiothoracic surgery were consulted before making the next step. Both surgical departments suggested a pericardiocentesis to aspirate the excess blood and fluid trapped in the lining of Kim’s heart. The space between Kim’s 5th and 6th ribs just to the left of her sternum was sterilized. A catheter and small collection bag was attached to the back of the large, fine needle. The needle was stuck carefully into Kim’s chest and maneuvered towards her heart. Kim could feel both pressure and a sharp, localized pain in her chest. She remained relatively calm during the procedure.

Coagulated blood was aspirated from the needle. Kim’s vital signs didn’t improve, so a repeat echocardiogram was performed. The echo still showed evidence of worsening pericardial effusion. The trauma team decided to perform a 2nd pericardiocentesis. The 2nd attempt at the procedure withdrew both fresh and coagulated blood, but didn’t ameliorate the situation. Kim’s vital signs continued to decrease rapidly, so she was started on vasopressors. The medication failed to stabilize her vital signs, and her level of consciousness decreased over the ensuing minutes, so the trauma team decided to intubate her. A 7.0 ET tube was navigated into her airway. Once the breathing tube was in the correct place, it was secured with a blue tube holder and an ambu bag was attached.

With Kim’s pericardial effusion remaining the same combined with her decreased vital signs, the trauma team called for a cardiothoracic surgery consult. The surgeon arrived minutes later and ordered another echocardiogram. This particular echo showed cardiac tamponade, meaning Kim’s situation was worse than before. The surgeon made a quick, but unconventional call. They suggested performing a pericardial window in the emergency department. The trauma team felt very uncomfortable with this idea since this is a procedure typically reserved for the operating room. A pericardial window is a procedure where a small cut is made into the chest so that a small portion of the pericardium can be removed so the excess blood can exit the sac around the heart. The trauma team didn’t feel that there was a better option in the moment, so they let the cardiothoracic surgeon lead the way.

The procedure began with a small, midline incision with an 11 blade scalpel beginning in the subxiphoid area, extending down past the diaphragm, and ending at the upper abdomen/epigastric area. Once the skin was separated, a 15 blade scalpel was used to cut through the fat and muscle so the xiphoid process could be exposed. Once the pointy, bony structure was exposed, it was snipped completely off with a tool known as a rongeur. A rongeur is a scissor like tool commonly used in orthopedic surgery to make cuts within bones. Since the xiphoid process is thinner than most bones, it’s an excellent tool to use in a pericardial window since it cuts through the bone quite easily. After the xiphoid process was excised, 2 nurses were each given Richardson retractors to keep the incision area opened wide enough. In order to reach the heart from this viewpoint, the surgeon had to get through a layer of fat that’s quite common in the thorax, known as the cardiophrenic fat. The overlaying area of fat was cut probed and shifted around, finally exposing the pericardium. With echocardiogram guidance, the surgeon made a 1 inch incision into the pericardium with a 15 blade scalpel. Before the portion of the pericardium could be taken out, Kim’s vital signs continued to drop. More fluids and vasopressors were given, but the surgeon had a sense of urgency; they knew they had to finish the procedure sooner rather than later. The portion of the pericardium was excised.

To everyone’s surprise, the line of sight became filled with blood since Kim started bleeding profusely from the incision site. Suction and surgical sponges were introduced to the area, but failed to fix the unexpected problem. The cardiothoracic surgeon put 2 and 2 together and realized Kim was bleeding profusely because of a cardiac chamber injury. The pericardial window created an area for this unwanted blood to flow into. Basically, they traded 1 problem for another: instead of Kim bleeding into her pericardium, she was bleeding into her chest and out of the incision area. The surgeon told the nurses to remove the retractors, sponges, and suction and quickly stapled up the incision area. The surgeon ordered the trauma team to place a left sided chest tube for additional drainage.

While the left chest tube was being placed, Kim became pulseless. The heart monitors displayed v-fib, so one of the nurses began chest compressions. Kim’s skinny chest caved in rhythmically, making her belly bounce outwards during each individual compression. After the 2nd chest tube was placed, blood shot out of the tube and onto the floor below. Epinephrine and atropine were pushed into the IV while the defibrillator paddles were being gelled and charged. The zoll m-series paddles were pressed up against the patient’s bare chest, and a 200j shock was delivered once everyone backed away. Kim’s pale, battered body jolted on the table, but no change on the monitor was seen. CPR was resumed as the paddles were gelled again and recharged to 300j. The 2nd shock was delivered once the cycle of compressions and ambu bagging was completed. Kim’s limp body flopped on the table, but no change was shown on the monitors. One of the nurses resumed deep, violent compressions on the dying 24 year old while the defibs were being readied just a few feet away. A short while later, shock #3 was delivered. Kim’s back arched from the increased intensity of the shock, before returning to her previous position a second or so later. Once again, Kim was in v-fib so the same cycle was repeated. The fourth shock caused Kim’s feet to leap into the air an inch or so above the table before slamming back down in an instant, wrinkling the soles of her size 6 feet. The 4th shock sent Kim into PEA, so harsh chest compressions were restarted.

A few cycles of compressions and another dose of cardiac stimulating drugs failed to restore a pulse, so the trauma team decided to perform a left anterolateral thoracotomy because of the dire situation. Betadine was splashed onto the left side of Kim’s chest. A 10 blade scalpel was used to make an incision in the 5th intercostal space starting at her sternum, extending across the chest below her left nipple, and ending in the mid axillary area just shy of her left armpit. The underlying fat and connective tissue was cut through to make room for the rob spreader, which was promptly placed moments later. With chest compressions still ongoing, the knob on the rib spreader was turned. A loud, repetitive popping sound was heard during the opening of Kim’s chest. There was a small rush of blood once the chest was cracked open, but the bleeding was rapidly quelled with suction. A vascular clamp was placed on the aorta to preferentially redirect bloodflow to the young woman's heart and brain.

External CPR was stopped and substituted with direct cardiac massage. One of the ER doctors wrapped their hands around Kim’s weakly fidgeting heart and squeezed it forcefully, desperately trying to get it to restart. The cardiothoracic surgeon made a larger incision into the pericardium, which was met with a large amount of both coagulated blood and fresh blood. The area was suctioned out so the line of sight could be restored. The surgeon didn’t have a perfect view of things, so they probed around in Kim’s chest attempting to find the precise location of the injury.

Within 30 to 45 seconds, the cardiothoracic surgeon felt something small and solid within the left ventricle. The surgeon pulled lightly with their index finger and thumb and were shocked at what they pulled out. A small bone fragment from one of the rib fractures broke off, sliced a hole in Kim’s left ventricle, and partially plugged up the laceration. The surgeon then called for a PGX surgical stapler to close the wound. 4 staples later, the ventricular laceration was closed. However, Kim remained in PEA despite the wound being fixed. Internal massage went on and the surgeon re-examined Kim’s chest cavity. “Right ventricle is empty and flaccid, but I can find a wound.” The surgeon said, shaking their head. The surgeon then inspected the posterior aspect of the heart for lacerations, but came up empty. “I don’t get it, she should be coming back by now.” The surgeon uttered in a frustrated tone.

The drugs converted Kim back to v-fib, so the trauma team put their search in hold in order to shock her. The zoll PD 1200 internal paddles were lowered into Kim’s chest cavity and around her fluttering heart. A 20j was delivered and accompanied by a full, wet thunk. V-fib was still present on the monitor so resuscitation efforts continued. A cycle of internal compressions were performed while the internal paddles were being recharged. Internal shock #2 was delivered in the coming moments. The 30j shock caused Kim’s torso to flop slightly, but once again didn’t restore a heartbeat. The same repetitive cycle was resumed for a moment before internal shock number 3 was delivered. Kim’s torso flopped and her heart twitched as the electricity coursed through her dying body. Fine v-fib was running across the monitors, so a 4th shock was administered. Again, her body jerks and her toes curl, showing off the prominent wrinkles in her soft soles. Post shock, her toes relax and spread from their previously clenched position. Kim remained in fine v-fib, so another internal shock was delivered.

Unfortunately, Kim became asystolic after this shock. One of the nurses checked Kim’s pupils, discovering that they were fixed and dilated. At that point, resuscitation efforts were stopped and time of death was called at 9:16am. The high pitched, flatlined monitors were switched off and the ambu bag was detached. The ekg electrodes were disconnected from Kim’s cold, battered chest. The finichietto rib spreader and clams were removed. After everything else was done, Kim’s body was covered up and ate tag was placed before being sent off to the morgue.

Later on, Kim’s autopsy revealed that the mystery injury was a partial detachment of the pulmonary artery from the right ventricle. The artery became semi detached and lodged in the posterior pericardium, explaining the massive bleeding and inability to restart her heart after the left ventricular laceration was repaired.

Days later, the individual responsible for Kim’s death was apprehended by local police. The gentleman was charged with 2nd degree vehicular homicide (class F felony), negligent driving, and class B felony hit and run. The suspect pled guilty, so the vehicular homicide charge was reduced, but he still received a 7 year prison sentence. Kim’s family also sued the individual and his family for wrongful death and settled out of court for an undisclosed amount. Overall, this was a tragic situation that cost a beautiful 24 year old woman her life, and justice was served.

57 notes · View notes

iamthesimone · 4 years

Text

My Relationship With ‘Reality Check’ by Swae Lee

I’m going to be real here, I wasn’t initially grabbed by Swae Lee’s recent release of ‘Reality Check’, and seeing from my previous blog posts, y’all know I’m a massive fan of him.

Since late 2019, Lee has been teasing fans with songs to be featured on his upcoming album. Some of them I absolutely adore, but others I weren’t feeling as much. One of them was indeed ‘Reality Check’.

I don’t know why I wasn’t fond of it. It’s lovely tune, but maybe it’s because of how different it is to previous songs of his, causing me to not really be used to the sound. The vibes were perfect, the vocals were perfect, but my personal connection with the song just wasn’t clicking. But recently, it hit me.

I had my own ‘reality check’, indeed I did. From that, I felt the sudden urge to listen to the song to hear his words.

With me being of a young age, I haven’t really experienced much, leading me not to come across reality checks that often. During this colossal period of lockdown especially, everything has remained relatively chilled for me; every day has been the same, so nothing could go wrong, nothing could change. But my content-ness changed drastically as I returned to college on the 3rd September, despite Covid-19 numbers scooping up its rates in my age bracket.

My first week saw almost everything the same as the previous year; the classes, the teachers, the expected content. Everything didn’t appear a wild shock to me - except for my first class with a new teacher, which automatically turned everything on its head.

It was a disaster! Considering me not remembering a strong amount of that subject’s content from the previous year, bringing up unexpected content overwhelmingly defeated me. He seemed to favour a class dynamic which expected us students to remember everything from around six months prior, causing him to pick on us for answers any time his heart desired.

‘What did I do?’ You may ask. I panicked like crazy, that’s what I did! This class automatically became the first to push me near the tipping point, reminding me of my weaker points in study knowledge. This only happened shortly after a previous class I had in another subject, where I realised that I hadn’t picked up the class content as quick as my peers, who were practically flying with their well-earned knowledge, letting words roll out of their mouth as if they were a talking textbook.

As soon as I finished these classes and went home, I was completely defeated. How could this have happened to me? Everything had been so perfect for my mental stability these past few months…and now this happens? Honestly, I felt like the least educated student in the class who didn’t know what on earth was going on. But amidst this panic, I felt a connection with my senses. I had a reality check.

Now I didn’t immediately have this reality check, but as a few hours passed I became totally submerged in the realisation that I had been. I sat to myself, wondering how on earth I could elevate myself from this position. Suddenly, the gentle, melodic sound of Lee’s voice wandered into my mind.

The first words I remembered him singing was “do everything with a strategy”, that just kept ringing and ringing in my ear several times over. By that, I followed my desire to listen.

As soon as I did, I felt utterly renewed. Less alone, less...scared. I really have to thank Swae Lee for that.

That’s the magic of music. Music really unleashes the ability to feel a meaningful company in the experiences you have, which is what ‘Reality Check’ did for me. As soon as the song ended, I quickly repeated it to take it all in again, to hear him tell me what’s what.

As well as the message, his angelic vocals also took me in, specifically with the “Ooo”’s he performs in the bridge, followed by a beautiful descending run.

On a ‘Verified’ interview with Genius, Lee actually talked about the changing intent for the song, stating how it was written a while back where the lyrics were originally “I need a check in reality”, but he felt the lyric change of “I got a check in reality” better suited as it takes ownership of the problem, making it something he’s much more proud of. By the time he released the track, the Black Lives Matter protests were on the rise, which Lee actually attended in support of the movement, bringing the meaning of the song closer to home. Where both the pandemic and the rates of racism are currently what people need to tap into, the song aids the realisation that it’s not something to be fantasised about. Humanity should pay attention to injustice and world devastations to take action in accordance to the cause.

This whole meaning alongside the standard experience of having a ‘reality check’ really hit me to the point of feeling the drive to change my ways. To find a “strategy” in order to work through this ‘reality check’ of my own, essentially making my own mark by having “a check in reality”. Ultimately, life hits you hard, but as Swae Lee highlights, it’s how you take on that push-back experience to make it into a positive outcome for yourself.

Simone Williams

Like this article? Make sure to follow and share for more!

2 notes · View notes

forbidd3nfruit · 4 years

Text

Okay time to rant because I’m sad and don’t want to dump more miserable bullshit on my friends.

My boyfriend broke up with me a month and a half ago due to his own inability to coexist in a healthy relationship. At that point we hadn’t even seen each other since March because of covid, so our whole breakup had to happen over FaceTime – the second time we ever FaceTimed in the entirety of our 1+ year relationship! 🙃 Getting me through this quarantine was knowing I could see him again when it was all over...kiss him, cuddle him, hold him in my arms. Now I feel like I have nothing to look forward to. I’ll soon be leaving the comfortable suburbs I spent the quarantine in to return back to my draining life in NYC. Prior to this relationship I spent several years in the city feeling lonely and worthless. All I wanted was love, and it felt like I got burned every time I tried to find it. I don’t know if it’s just the city or what, but I’ve had a long string of short term friendships and it feels like people just come and go. Admittedly I’ve been the one to walk away from friendships as well, but nonetheless I haven’t felt great security or found people I feel like I can really count on. It’s just been me vs. the world. I’m extremely protective of myself so perhaps this is understandable. I’m very discerning about who I allow in my life and who I am vulnerable with. This very much applies to intimacy and because of it, I didn’t have any sex from September 2016 to January 2019. And by no means am I on a spectrum of asexuality. I am very much a horny person! But I’m only really interested in sexual encounters that are fueled by passion and emotional intimacy.

I can be quite the romantic, and I do often daydream about my future partner, but I’m also level headed and logical. I sensed from the beginning with him that our relationship would last a while, though I never thought he was my soulmate or anything like that. It just felt so stable and secure. He was certainly the first person I dated that I felt I could really count on, and outside of romantic feelings, one of the few people in general I really clicked with. Funny enough I wasn’t that attracted to him at first, when he popped up on my Tinder, and I remember consciously deciding to swipe right because I had seen him on social media before and was curious what he’d be like. Flash forward to me falling in love with him. I digress! He wooed me in a fun way, and ending up being the first person I sent nudes to. He felt stable and reliable but at the same time had a naughty flair that made a good balance for me. However things started to subtly change within a relatively short period of time. In the first 4 months of our relationship, we had sex only 5 times and the nudes and sexts started to slowly disappear. I would ask him about it and he always brushed it off, either giving the excuse that his libido ebbs and flows, or later on claiming erectile dysfunction. At the same time, he had become my best friend and someone that I talked to daily. (Or maybe I should clarify and say *texted* because I was the only one in the relationship who initiated actual phone conversations.) I tried to bring up the lack of sex a number of times, sometimes somewhat jokingly, but still seriously, and nothing was changed. Just empty promises of going to a doctor or seeing a therapist, which never happened. (the latter has finally happened, only took the relationship ending 🙄)

I began to confide in a certain friend who I knew would have a good perspective on the situation. She encouraged me to have a serious conversation with him, which I ultimately put off for a long time, and essentially warned me that this relationship would end at some point or another. I knew it was true. But the day to day of our relationship was fun and made me really happy, waking up to his good morning GIFs, getting photos of his pets throughout the day, and generally just talking to each other about anything and everything we were doing. I knew it would be really fucking hard to lose that. As time went on things only got worse. The sex never returned, he wouldn’t fully address the issue, and things were generally getting imbalanced. We barely saw each other once a week. I felt like he didn’t want to make time for me in his life. I made advanced plans for him to meet my parents once which he bailed on because he isn’t willing or able to stand up to his asshole stepdad. Low key we were in a LDR being at opposite ends of the tristate area, which made things tough, and it was getting unfair when he would always ask me to come to him all the time and rarely ever stay a night with me. Which makes no fucking sense because he’s the one living at home with questionably toxic parents and I’m a free bitch in my own apartment!

It became clear that he was not capable of providing me what I needed. And I wasn’t even asking for a lot. He wasn’t capable of providing basic things required in a relationship. I started to get paranoid, and earlier this year when we were about to get out of his car I thought I saw Grindr on his phone out of the corner of my eye. I immediately texted the aforementioned friend about it and she reassured me it was probably something else. As was the case for most of our visits, I put away all my frustration so I could enjoy the very little time I actually got with him. I didn’t even think about it much after that, although if I recall a lot of my frustrations were put over the edge that same night after his mother came into his room at night when the two of us were in bed. Which for me is a serious violation of privacy. I am a grown ass adult and no one’s mother should be walking in on me at 2am when I’m half naked in bed with my boyfriend. (Something I later discussed with him, and he didn’t seem to have much of a problem with. He doesn't see her level of inappropriate behavior or manipulation.) This was days before the quarantine hit, and I had been procrastinating my big conversation, and decided to continue to do so as I felt it was important to have it face to face.

But then shit hit the fan. I was talking with my friend during the quarantine and she asked if he had used this opportunity to send sexy texts or anything like that. I literally laughed in her face lol. At that point it had been over a year since he sent anything like that, and almost a year since we last had sex. She told me that ever since I told her about the possible Grindr incident earlier in the year, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. That there was a chance he was unsure of how to conduct himself in a relationship (definitely true) and therefore possibly talking to other guys casually (questionable). She tried to set a trap but nothing came of it, then again we didn’t really let enough time go by because I was so intensely entrenched in anxiety that I knew my only option was to confront him. So I did, on FaceTime, and he denied it, but after multiple conversations he told me he had to end the relationship. I cried so hard the next day. We both agreed to maintain communication, as a means to retain normalcy in the midst of this pandemic. My anxiety was still running rampant and I was paranoid that he was a) already talking to other guys on Grindr, b) lied about not being on Grindr during the relationship, or both. So this time I went on Grindr to look for myself and sure enough there he was. I know 2 weeks had gone by since our actual breakup but it still fucking stung. This is the person who wouldn’t fuck me or send me a damn dick pic for the last year of our relationship. And 5 minutes after it ends he starts hoeing around again???

I’ve been in so much pain since. We had a face to face meeting which was mostly a success, because he was actually able to be emotionally vulnerable for once in his fucking life, but I’m still hurt. He apologized for everything but never really explained to me why his relationship with sex is so complicated. Then again I doubt even he understands it. My friend reassures me that ultimately, he will be the one suffering with his own inability to process his emotions, whereas I will heal and find love again because I am emotionally intelligent and available. But right now it feels like he’s resumed life as normal and I’m here depressed over seeing his tweets. I miss him so much but thinking about him talking to other guys even if casually still really hurts me. This is someone I placed so much trust in and looked to for security and stability and he couldn’t even meet me halfway. I have so much fucking love to give and I give it with the utmost dignity. If his best at a relationship was half-assing it, I wish he wouldn’t even have gone on Tinder in the first place.

But perhaps I screwed myself over here. I’ve allowed years of sexual frustration to pent up and allowed myself to be in a relationship with someone who was not good enough for me. And apparently I still don’t feel like I deserve better because I’m obsessively thinking about him.

#breakup #break up

1 note · View note

dashielldeveron · 5 years

Text

Viper II: Ad Quod Damnum

Viper AU: a Mob!Tom Holland AU in which you are a political author, Tom’s personal lawyer, and eventually his consigliere.

Warnings: swears, the law, blood, misogyny, drug mention, talking about human trafficking, mention of rape, mention of FGM, mention of forced pregnancy.

Summary: You’re doing your best to be good, both ethically and professionally, but the streams start to cross. You’re not getting noticed for your work, but it’s not quite the same as before.

After pulling your sleeves down, you buttoned your coat over the bloody, ashy handprint on your dress. “What can you see?”

Firelight reflected off of the lenses of Tom’s binoculars. He licked his lips, his breath visible in the cold. “Not a whole lot. Boost me up.”

“Mr. Osterfield might be more suited for this,” you said, but you helped Tom up the next rung of the fence to Crosscreek anyway. Still supporting Tom, you turned towards the throng of neighbourhood residents outside the gate, where Harrison was questioning people as nonchalantly as possible to find any witnesses to the blistering blaze in a section of Crosscreek. “It’s not Ms. Pham’s house,” you said, peeking through the bars, “Hers is on the west end.”

“Of course not,” said Tom. He adjusted the sights. “It’s one of the D’Aleos’ houses, their headquarters outside the city.”

“What the—the D’Aleos? The D’Aleos have a camp here?” You stepped to the side to try to get his attention. “You sent me blind into another mob family’s territory without even telling me—”

“We needed the key codes to infiltrate the house,” Tom said, not tearing his gaze away from the fire, “S’pose that won’t happen now. Maybe another location, then.”

“I’d rather go into Fratelli territory than D’Aleo,” you said, slumping against the fence, “At least they’re polite.”

“I can’t make out more than silhouettes, but it looks like more than the fire department’s there.”

“Bomb squad?”

“Not for one that’s already gone off.” Tom jumped down from the fence and held out the binoculars. “You check it out.”

You took them and climbed up without Tom’s help, since he didn’t offer it, and Harrison approached while you wrapped your free hand around one of the frigid, metal spikes. No one in the crowd had seen the bomb go off, but some had seen the process of explosion. The ground floor of the D’Aleo house had exploded, and the upper storey had collapsed with the growing flames. Certainly seemed to be the case—the only thing left untouched was the chimney, standing tall amidst a steadily rising pile of ashes.

You got down and returned the binoculars. “Was anyone inside when it blew?”

Harrison raised an eyebrow. “How’s that matter? How would I have that information?”

Christ, this desensitised mob. “I don’t—”

“They may blame you,” Tom said, stowing the binoculars in a pack, “You’re the most recent person given the codes. Better watch your back, Viper.”

“Watch my—did you account for this when you sent me?”

“You’d better watch your tone. It sounds like you’re accusing me,” said Tom, scowling, “which you have no right to do. Not exactly a promising start to your career.”

Your phone went off in your coat pocket, but you didn’t move under Tom’s glower until he barked at you to answer it.

Glory Pham: Explosion in my neighbourhood. Am fine. Still meeting tomorrow at 0900 hrs. If not arriving with biscotti from Davey’s, do not bother to arrive.

Tom read the text over your shoulder, his nose twitching as his frown deepened. “This woman thinks awfully well of herself to demand that from a business partner. Reply cordially but make no mention of fulfilling her request.”

Sending the text off, you stowed your phone away, and Tom directed his attention towards Harrison. “Contact D’Aleo; tell him we’re open for pecuniary support if he wants it. Don’t tell him we know about it in any terms other than what’s on the news. Make nice. Then contact the Fratellis and—hang on,” Tom said, turning towards you and slowly crossing his arms, “That woman has your phone number.”

“Correct,” you said.

Through the bars of the fence, firelight illuminated half of his face, morphing constantly into shadow. He opened his mouth to say something but shut it again. Scoffing, Tom returned to his conversation with Harrison with his arms tightly crossed over his chest. “Tell the Fratellis that the D’Aleos are gonna come at them for help. If you can, persuade them to deny them. We need to provide a narrow window of support; I’m gonna need a favour from D’Aleo soon.”

“He’s not going to like that,” said Harrison, jotting down notes on his phone.

“Tell me something I don’t know. If—”

“Excuse me, sir,” you said, stepping a bit closer to them to include yourself in the conversation, “Weren’t you going to tell me something?”

Tom’s fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, and he, scrunching his eyes closed, gave a weak, dismissive wave. “Go home, Viper,” he said, “I don’t need you.”

***

Tom flipped his pants pocket inside-out and wiped his reddening knuckles on it. “Drop him,” he said to the two capos holding a middle-aged man who had once been quite pugnacious but now was still, save for the heaving chest, “He’s disoriented and won’t try anything. Leave. Text Maccabruno that we found him.” He stuffed his pocket right-side-in again, and the capos dropped the bastard onto his knees on their way out.

Tom unbuttoned his suit coat, and when he spoke, his voice was even but weighed with fury. “Where’ve you been for the past five months, Wright?”

You clicked your pen and held it to your legal pad. Neither man paid any attention to it, but that was the point: you weren’t to be noticed until you were told. You perched on the arm of Tom’s chair behind his desk, your legs crossed at the ankle and your skirt hitched up a little too high for a secretary Tom wasn’t keeping around to fuck.

“I haven’t been anywhere significant. I’ve stayed in Queens, as promised.”

“Then how come I haven’t seen you since before the New Year?”

“I’ve been,” said Wright, gulping. He waited a moment. “Depressed.”

“Fuck off; we don’t all have the luxury of retreating to whatever opium den you’ve been hiding in when we have a depressive episode. You can still do your fucking job and be depressed,” said Tom, who was still unaware you were the highest-functioning depressed person he had in his circle of acquaintances, “Other Queens contractors have had to pull your weight, and what’s more, I’ve been more than generous in letting your property go relatively untouched, considering you haven’t the motivation to keep up the protection fee. You owe me.”

Wright pulled at the rope tying his hands behind his back. “I can’t deny that, Mr. Holland, but I can’t pay—”

“I’m more than aware of that,” said Tom, and he tossed his suit jacket over the back of a chair and began to roll up his sleeves as he strode towards Wright, each step a hollow clunk on the hardwood floor.

Instead of writing the dialogue, you jotted down the physical reactions Wright had to whatever Tom did. Words you could recall later, but a twitch, a glance towards the window—you might not remember.

Besides, you were recording the exchange. Early on you had decided that Tom wouldn’t tell you everything, out of spite or negligence, so, inspired by your initial gift, you had given Tom a potted cactus for his desk. In the potting soil, you’d planted (bah-dum, tsh) your first major investment with your new income: the highest quality recording device on the market. When you got back to your flat each evening, you’d go through the daily file, type it, and sort it according to what case it helped. Tom would be livid if he knew, but like he’s going to rummage through cactus dirt.

You’d also invested in a flask—not for alcohol; you never drank—but so that Tom’s men (and the idiots you ran into out in the city) would never offer you drinks. You swopped out your liquid every now and then, but currently, you were on a pink lemonade kick. You kept it on an easily hidden holster around your waist, along with your wallet and phone. Carrying around a purse was too cumbersome in addition to your rucksack—which lay carefully under your feet and was itching to be pried open so that you could slam Wright into the ground with its contents.

“Get up,” Tom hissed, and when he prodded Wright’s knee with his foot, Wright sat upright, tilting his head back and exposing his neck. “C’mon, are you following along? You still with me? Use your voice, not your head.”

“I am,” said Wright, clearing his throat with difficulty.

“Head clear enough to keep going? Then you have two minutes.” Tom turned halfway towards you and gestured loosely towards Wright, who coughed bloody phlegm onto the floor. You dug the folder out of your rucksack and handed your legal pad to Tom when you passed him.

“What, you’re gonna let your fucking secretary read me my punishment?” Wright scowled when you stopped in front of him, clear of spitting distance. His sclera was blossoming into a deep vermillion, and it struck you that red looked nice against dark eyelashes. “You’ve gotten lazy in the months I’ve—”

“If you had to lose a finger, which one would you choose?”

Bafflement flashed across his face, and before he could question it, you asked him the same again. This time, he said the pinkie on his non-dominant hand and flexed his fingers behind him, steeling himself.

“Interesting choice,” you said, taking the knife Tom handed you and flipping out the blade, “Most people say that, and it really shows how little the American public knows about human anatomy. Do you know the difference between precision and power grip?”

Wright flicked a worried look towards Tom and back to you. Interesting how they all turned to Tom for stability once you started talking. Wright shook his head.

“Precision grip involves the pinching motion with your thumb, index, and middle fingers. The distal two joints are the only ones being used,” you said, shifting the file to your side, “Power grip uses all fingers and the thumb as they wrap around an object. It uses all of your joints, and the ring and little fingers do most of the work. What they lack in precision, they make up for in strength, the little finger being the strongest. Holland.”

He took your file and held it loosely by his side, his gaze never leaving you as you rounded Wright and knelt.

“Make a fist,” you told Wright, straining to look over his shoulder at you, “Feel the strength of each finger. No, eyes to the front.” You turned his chin towards Tom, and Wright’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

“The correct choice is your index finger,” you said, prying open his fist and sliding the blade across his index finger—lightly, not enough to break skin but enough to put him on edge. “You don’t need it. The middle finger functions just as well for precise grip actions, and the index doesn’t do much otherwise.” You tapped the tip on the crease of his second knuckle, and he flinched. “Your middle is more involved in power grip than the index, which is why it’s the second choice. The ring finger comes next, because you’re losing power, and the little finger after, again, for power grip. The thumb should be your last choice.” You slid the knife over it now, letting it swipe lazily to the skin between index and thumb. “If you lose your thumb, you lose all precision grip. You’d still have power, but it’s affected nevertheless. It’s your only opposable digit, so there’s no substituting for it.”

Letting the information breathe, you drew figure-eights up and down his fingers for a moment. Tom’s throwing your legal pad onto his desk was the only noise that interrupts Wright’s shaky breathing and the A/C.

Tom leant against his desk, clutched your file to his chest, and tilted his chin up very slightly. “What say you to that, Wright?”

With incredulity in his voice, Wright said, “You learn something new every—”

You drove the knife through his right palm, and you stood slowly. You walked over to Tom and thanked him over the screeching, and you exchanged the knife for your file. Later, you’d justify stabbing him to yourself over a sink; Tom had eyed you during the first feeble aftermath, but now you hid it entirely. You wondered vaguely how your cat was doing.

“Holy fuck, woman,” said Wright in his high register, “You can’t do that to me. This is still a business arrangement; you can’t—I know my rights.”

“Really?” You looked at Tom and back at Wright. “Name them.”

He bit his tongue with force as you returned to him, pulling the first page out of the folder. “Now, why haven’t you filed your tax returns for your front business?”

“What,” Wright said, panting, “the fuck?”

“You’re overdue. For quite some time, now. Tax evasion is a crime, Mr. Wright.”

And there it was: the visible processing of what was happening, the cogs turning in the client’s head so loudly that the men downstairs could hear it, the awe, confusion, and then anger: “Holy fucking shit,” said Wright, “You’re the Viper.”

“I’m pleased to hear your cognitive functions are still operating. Gold star. Tax evasion, Mr. Wright.”

“That doesn’t—the fuck—that doesn’t matter; I’ve been doing it for—”

“I know it doesn’t matter. But did you note the physical signs of relief you just showed?” You waved the tax form at him. “When you found out it was only tax evasion? Your shoulders legitimately slumped in relief, Wright, and I thought only cartoon characters did that. I’m not here to talk about your tax records, you fuck.”

Here you waited; where there was a silence after a vague accusation, sometimes there was a confession. You didn’t need it, but you took confessing into account when you dealt with clients further. Again Wright glanced at Tom for clarification, for stability, for anything, and he wouldn’t give it to him.

“Springfield, Missouri. Your wife’s shelter. Thirty-eight, seventeen, nine.”

His face fell blank. He opened his mouth and closed it, and then he set his jaw. “Prostitution’s on the way to being legalised.”

“That’s pimp talk. Now, I know what my views on prostitution are, and you know yours, but why we’re here today isn’t about personal views, you fucker. It’s about the law, the lives you’ve ruined, and your betrayal of trust. Let’s talk about justice and gender.” You clasped your hands behind your back and paced leisurely around him.

“In law school, the message was that I didn’t belong because I was a woman. Supreme Court justices came to my school the spring of my first year, during which they were sure to emphasise keeping women lawyers at large, corporate firms because of family-friendly policies.” You stopped behind him, looking down at the crown of his head. “This was the only issue regarding women they spoke of, and that was the beginning, the beginning of linking their narrow approach to gender with my feeling of isolation.”

You took a glance towards Tom. This information was new to him, but he wasn’t reacting at all. Simply leaning against his desk, arms crossed. No expression. It didn’t matter, you supposed—he knew your views on gendered justice; he just didn’t know why. Well, you learn something new every day.

“I spoke in class, because no other female students would, and people noticed. A tenured professor tended to talk directly with me during what was theoretically a class discussion. Sometimes, he would agree wholeheartedly, and others, he’d drag me through the dirt—all using gendered vocabulary, thinly veiling that I was wrong for emotional reasons, which lawyers aren’t supposed to be. Because of all my interaction with this professor, my fellow students thought I was fucking him—when in reality, he hated me—as belayed to me by a friend who talked to him in office hours.” You stayed behind Wright. Keeping an eye on Tom was more important to you.

“Again, I was—to put it crudely—groped my second year by an upperclassman. When I reported him to the chair and again to the dean, nothing happened, when it should have gone on his permanent record. The administration was too willing to sweep my case and worse under the rug. But enough about me,” you said, coming to a halt and bouncing on the balls of your feet, “The history of law has always been drenched in misogyny.”

You flicked the back of Wright’s head. “I know. You’re zoning out. You don’t want to listen to a woman talk about feminism. This is going a place very relevant to you, so at the very least, pay attention to figure out if you’re gonna walk out of this room or be carried out. Are you following along?”

“Yes.”

Feeling a bit daring, you said, “Yes what?”

Wright shifted his jaw. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good boy. Now, for ages, legal convention has allowed familial violence and rape and has equated these actions with damage to property. You say that’s gone, that that’s old hat. Chin up, bucko; history’s only getting started. Cogs in favour of women have been churning less than a century, but legal capabilities are rooted in a patriarchal system—I can practically hear you rolling your eyes. Roll them again, and they’ll be rolling across the floor. When studying law or building a career in it, the system is designed to shape you into the romanticised epitome of the profession. Being a human person can’t interfere with legal culture, especially when that human person is knocking against gender discrimination that’s just been part of the system since it began.”

You glanced at Wright out of the corner of your eye. If he were untied and physically fit, he’d be picking at his fingernails. He had that look: glazed over and fixated on the floor. Hackneyed posture. Might’ve been any jerk you see at the library if it weren’t for the blood and tears dripping out of his eye.

Tom remained unmoved, but his gaze was on you, not Wright.

“When you’re stuck in an environment that’s designed to crush who you are, you tend to adopt silence as your method of protection. There was one thing that pulled me through. Just one.” You clasped your hands behind your back. “I had a magnificent professor who saw the light in me and raised me from the depths. She had my back when the world was against me. She was my rock when my life was crumbling.” You rounded to Wright’s front, now, and you tilted up your chin to glare down at him. “So you’d better believe I’m gonna be that and more for women who are silenced and abused by worms like you. There’s a danger to women in places like mine, and I’m gonna do all I can to keep them safe.”

Gripping Wright’s hair, you forced his gaze to lock with yours. His blond hair matted blood between your fingers. “Back to Springfield, Missouri. When you go through one of the cities with the highest human trafficking rate in the nation, you tend to get noticed. I noticed. Now, with my help, your wife’s noticed.”

Wright’s eyes widened, and he spat bloody phlegm in your face. Closing your eyes and freezing your expression, you released his hair, stood, and flicked it delicately off your cheekbone. “Holland,” you said over your shoulder, “Has this man been tested?”

“He’s clean,” said Tom in a hoarse voice.

“Thank you,” you said, and you returned your focus to Wright. “Grace was more than willing to help provide all banking accounts, emails, and passwords once I showed her the patterns of your movements and women and a depressingly large amount of underage girls going missing from her women’s shelter.”

“You fucking bitch,” said Wright, “She didn’t know anything about the trafficking, but she—”

“Oh, I know. Which is why we’ve examined all found content concerning it and purged her connections with it. You shouldn’t leave such a thorough paper trail, Mr. Wright.” You opened your folder and idly flipped through it. “I have you for trafficking, kidnapping, rape, assault, opiate—”

“You—bitch. You can’t prove a thing.”

You half-shrugged. “True, but your wife could, once she connected the dots, and now enough information is in my hands to ruin you and your company. However, I wanted to give Grace some agency on the matter since you betrayed her, and I gave her a choice on whether to send you to prison or hell.” You closed your file. “Let’s just say she doesn’t want you on state health care.”

Wright lunged the best he could on his knees towards you and began to shout, and you simply took a step back. When the client is reduced to nothing but name-calling and threats, it’s time to wrap up.

And Tom’s phone rang. You reviewed Grace’s personal accounts while he talked and made a mental note to help her and her kids get out of state temporarily. Maybe to Maine. Low population. Lots of forests. Forests are peaceful.

Tom swore loudly into his phone, and he finished the phone call in a hurry. “Viper,” he said, turning on his heel, “I have a job for you.”

“Is it all right leaving Wright here?” Your heels clicked together as you came to stand in front of Tom, and you handed him the folder.

“I’ll handle him,” said Tom, loosening his tie enough to slip from around his neck, “You’re going alone. I’ll have a car for you outside by the time you get to the lobby, and I’ll text you the details.” Fucking hell. Another excuse to contact you via phone—he’d never admit it, but you saw the glint in his eye when you gave him your number a while back. You knew what he was about. You wished, at least, he’d text in full sentences.

“Understood. Should I be armed?”

“Harrison’s already there,” said Tom, “but he won’t be for long. He thinks you’d ought to check it out, though. Some Fratelli men are staking out the place since the police discovered it, since it’s on their turf, but it’s a sector we’re friendly with.”

“All right,” you said. You took a moment to look at Wright, who had fallen silent again and was staring at the floor again in a dazed way. You turned back to Tom and said so that only he could hear: “I know it isn’t my place to make suggestions, but I would love to come back to this scum not having any teeth.”

Tom raised an eyebrow but said nothing, and when he nodded once, you took it as your dismissal. When you glanced over your shoulder at him as your closed the door, he gave you a small smile where Wright couldn’t see.

***

“Top floor?” You pulled on a latex glove with a snap.

“No, the penultimate one,” said Harrison, “Top floor’s completely empty. You want the main room on the fourth floor on the left. The police have already been through it and marked out the silhouette. Unnecessary.”

“Like a good, old-fashioned cop show,” you said, flexing your latex-covered fingers, “Do we have a weapon yet?”

“Lots lying around the premises but none suited to skin someone. I’m on my way to check out his skin; it was dumped on his front steps,” said Harrison.

“Was the rest of the body found here before his skin was discovered?”

Harrison checked over his shoulder at the Fratelli capos calling for his attention. “No. Here’s the write-up,” he said, shoving you some folded papers, “The rest of his body hasn’t been found yet, but the autopsy on his skin should be included. I’ve got to go. Let me know how it goes.”

“Hold on,” you said, grabbing his sleeve, “Is anyone in this building besides the Fratellis?”

He shook his head. “You’re alone, Viper. Go wild.”

After Harrison met with the Fratelli capos, you opened the autopsy report and read them as you ascended the staircase, which creaked and expelled dust with every step. The place was coated in grime. You didn’t want to touch anything; you might get a disease. Stupid fucking building hadn’t been cleaned since it was built, and the prostitution ring functioned out of this place? You wouldn’t want to sit down in here, let alone have sex. You had to stop reading though, since you had to keep an eye on your feet—it would be nice to have a sharps container.

So, you called Tom. You pressed it to your ear and brought your collar over your nose so that you could have at least two breaths of fresh air, and he picked up on the third ring.

“What’ve you got?”

“Did you fucking know that Senator Hernandez was involved with Wright’s prostitution ring? Were we willingly working with someone who’ll—”

“Absolutely not,” said Tom, “I didn’t know until the phone call. I didn’t even know about the trafficking before you brought it up. I thought we were dealing with a run-of-the-mill businessman.”

He didn’t know until you…? Incredible. “How’d Hernandez’s skin get to his front steps?”

“I’m going over the security footage now, and an unmarked car dumped him out of what looks like a burlap sack. Can’t make out anything from the footage otherwise.”

“So, Holland,” you said, slowing your pace as you climbed the final few steps to the fourth floor, “What are you expecting me to find? I doubt the gun’s gonna be here, and there’s no chance of the bullet. It’s still in Senator Hernandez’s body, wherever it is.”

Tom pulled the received away from his mouth, but his soft fuck still came through. “They haven’t found it? His body, I mean.”

“Not a trace. All right, I’m in the room,” you said as you pushed on the door, its weight so heavy it swung open and held without having to prop it open. You kicked the doorstop to the side.

Outlines of where furniture had been removed were the only parts of the carpet in a consistent beige. Otherwise, the floor stains ranged from bright red to a murky brown. You strode across it, needles sometimes clinking against your shoes, and you stopped at the edge of the police outline of where they garnered Hernandez had been shot, his head directly at your toes.

“What do you expect me to find in here, Holland?” You spun around, making a conscious effort not to breathe too deeply. “The cops have already marked it up. They’ve taken away anything interesting.”

“I don’t know,” he said, “but I do know that you have sharper eyes than they do. You’re gonna find something they missed.”

“Yeah, right. This place is empty, besides the palpable squalor.”

“C’mon, Viper. Take your time.”

You cleared your throat. “Fine, but if I contract the fuckin’ plague, or something, I’m infecting you first.”

“I’ll take it,” said Tom, and he continued with a change in tone. “Tell me about the autopsy report.”

“All right.” You walked around the silhouette to the one window in the room directly behind it. “Skin heavily bruised, especially the face. Nothing that looks like a hand, though.” You pried open the dull, green curtains and pinned them back. “Gunshot the back of his head, a single, long slit down his spine where they must have scooped out his insides.” The window showed no signs of being roughed up, so it must have been unlocked. You reached up to the lock and unlocked it (it shifted easily; the window must have been opened often to let smoke out) before pushing it open and out. “And yeah, there’s the edge of a scuffed shoeprint on the outside of the window, like the report says,” you said, leaning out to see it, “So the shooter did come in this way.”

You closed the window and glanced around the empty room. “I don’t know, Holland. I’m can’t give you any new information.”

“Anything at all?”

“The ceiling’s got graffiti on it. Some kind of mural. Mostly just swirls. Kind of like a clouded sky, but it’s almost dreamlike. Idealised.”

“Supposed to be heaven, d’you reckon?”

You closed your eyes. “Irony at its most mediocre and transparent.”

“Keep going.”

“I don’t want to keep you, if you’ve got something else to do. I can give a report later,” you said, breathing through your collar again.

“I’d rather hear you process the crime scene in real time,” said Tom, “This is more important than whoever’s bleeding at my feet.”

“I hope that’s metaphorical,” you said, and you proceeded too quickly for him to say otherwise. “Hernandez’s outline is almost comical. It’s straight flat without struggle, it looks like. It kind of looks like a bowling pin. Hang on.”

“What’s the matter?”

“His head’s facing the door.”

“Yeah?”

“And he was shot in the back of the head. His face is bruised—from the fall. He didn’t turn around to see his murderer. That matches with the window being o—why wouldn’t he turn around?” You crouched next to the outline and scanned the carpet for bloodstains that were the senator’s.

Tom clicked his tongue. “Was anyone else in the room?”

“No,” you said, “He’d been alone for—his head is facing the door.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Tom said as you rushed across the room and out into the hallway. You backed up into the doorframe and stared exactly in the senator’s line of vision.

“Just give me a moment.” Blank wall. Railing for stairs. No window, no sun, no light. Unless—

“What is it?”

Darting back into the room, you tested the door a few inches, swinging it back and forth before shutting it.

“Have you found something? Viper, answer me. Are you okay?”

You cleared your throat again. “’m fine. But, um. He was distracted,” you said in a soft voice into the phone before you lowered it.

On the back of the door in the same spray paint as the mural lay an inscription:

Hernandez, though you have run, it is time to collect a viper decides how much venom injects

***

“I told you,” you hissed, “I didn’t trust the senator from the very beginning.”

“Maccabruno did, and I trust Macca. I won’t have you insulting my consigliere another time today, got it?” Tom raised his eyebrows as he looked up at you from his chair behind his desk.

“But now I’m involved in the public sphere. The police are gonna go back and find that couplet, and then there’s gonna be reports all over about who or what the viper bit could mean, and it’s gonna lead back to us. It’s gonna lead to me.” You dragged a chair from the opposite side of his desk to sit next to him, so that there wouldn’t be a barrier between you. “I can’t have that. I can’t be found. I can’t be discovered,” you said, sitting ungracefully and leaning towards him.

“You’re right,” said Tom. He kicked a leg to rest his ankle on the opposite knee. “I can’t have you found out. You’re the ace up my sleeve.” He pinched his lower lip between his index finger and thumb.

Harrison barged in the door without knocking, the knob banging into the wall, with Maccabruno close behind. “Fucking hell,” he said, and he tossed an open envelope onto Tom’s desk. “Take a look at this.”

“It just arrived,” said Maccabruno, as Tom slid his fingers into the envelope and pulled out a polaroid. “Normal mail. Nothing suspicious.”

Supporting yourself on Tom’s armrest, you leant close enough to where you could see the picture, your chin initially grazing Tom’s shoulder, and your jaw dropped fully onto it. It was a clear image of you taking off your gloves earlier that afternoon, exiting the building where Senator Hernandez had been killed.

“The back, Tom,” said Haz, “Read the fucking back.”

Tom flipped it over. Tom Holland, it read, you have three days until I release this picture and similar. There is no stopping this. Whom I’m giving it to is offering me a ghastly amount of money, Tom, and they’re going to put this to good use. The viper’s got to suffer. Your girl’s going to burn. xx.

You blinked. Closed your mouth. Blinked again. Frowned. For some reason, your brain latched onto the kisses at the end, and they had you nodding. An essence of humour.

Harrison gripped the edge of the desk. “How do we stop it?”

“Give me a minute,” Tom said, rubbing his forehead as he handed the polaroid back to Harrison. His fingers kept going to run through his hair.

“I don’t think we can,” said Maccabruno, “He wrote we can’t, and I don’t think we can trace him.”

“Unless we want to go through spray paint sales across the city for the past week,” you said, snapping out of your daze.

“I’ll get on it,” said Maccabruno.

“I was jok—”

“No, do it,” said Tom with a wave, his eyes shut. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

Harrison pinched the bridge of his nose. “Wait a minute,” he said, “Are we assuming the murder-poet and whoever sent this polaroid are the same person? They aren’t necessarily connected.”

“Keep three records of the cases.” Maccabruno flexed his left hand, its joints popping. “One for each incident as they are, and another acting as if they’re done by the same person. Viper,” Maccabruno said, “was anyone around when you were leaving the crime scene?”

“No one except the two Fratelli men.”

Maccabruno shot Tom and Harrison a look before returning to you. “Really think. You may not have noticed—”

“Macca,” you said, shutting your eyes tightly, “what colour are my eyes?”

After a beat, he stammered that he didn’t know.

“That’s right,” you said, still blind, “Yours are hazel. Mr. Osterfield’s are light blue, and Mr. Holland’s are dark brown. You have a bulge in your coat pocket, but you don’t carry a gun normally; that pocket’s where you keep your mentos and pocket edition of the Constitution. Mr. Osterfield’s got scuffs on his shoes from where he keeps tripping into the new rug in the hallway, and Holland usually has grey pet hair on his trousers.” You opened your eyes to their checks if what you said were true. “I admit I’m trying to impress you, but the fact that I know them shouldn’t be impressive. I’m simply on guard. I watch. I notice. So, yeah, I know what I saw coming out of the cri—”

“Viper,” said Tom, leaning against two fingers pressed to his temple, “Can you go five minutes without taking umbrage with Macca? Get a grip. I won’t have infighting among you three. Fucking hell.” Tom pushed away from his desk and rose sluggishly. He took a step towards his liquor cabinet but winced and stopped himself. “Everyone, get out. I need time to think.”

Perplexed, Harrison glanced at you before saying, “But Tom—”

“Leave. Now,” said Tom, running his hand through his hair as he scrunched up his face. Harrison had his hand on the doorknob when Tom called you back to his desk. He opened the top drawer and retrieved a lace handkerchief, tied off around the middle. He placed it in your palm, and you tugged the string loose to reveal a collection of broken teeth. Your mouth twitched into a half smile.

“Is it really that important if this picture gets leaked? I’m afraid I don’t see much of a problem.” Maccabruno shook off Harrison’s grip on his arm and strode back towards Tom, Harrison closely behind. “The city underground knows Haz’s and my faces. And yours. We’ve have our rough times, but so has everyone else in this family. We have our quarrels but walk out regardless, even if we’re bruised and bloody. How is she any different?”

Harrison frowned. “He’s got a fair point.”

“Got a fair—? Christ,” said Tom with such vehemence that you clenched your fist around the handkerchief and moved to get out of his way as he rounded the desk. He opened his mouth but closed it when he looked back at you, but he continued at a softer volume. “You are correct,” he said, gesturing stiffly for Maccabruno to sit in one of the intentionally uncomfortable chairs in front of his desk, “She shouldn’t be any different. Haz, you, and I—hopefully—all think of her as the same as us.” Tom glanced at you again before glaring at Macca down his nose. “But we can’t guarantee our opponents will. They’re gonna look at her and see some chick that I’ve hired out of sentiment. They’re gonna look at her and see an easy way to me.”

While Harrison inched over to you to give you some shred of solidarity, Tom put his foot on the edge of the seat of Maccabruno’s chair, making him scoot over, and Tom leant into his face, resting his arms on his raised knee. “So, they know about the Viper. Fine. Gives them another reason to be on edge around me. But say everyone knows she’s a woman—they don’t take her seriously and easy to spot. She’s less of a person and more of a target.”

Harrison nudged your arm, and you inhaled sharply. He nodded slightly at you, and you returned it. You forced yourself to release the tension from your jaw and stopped clenching your fists. The roots of the molars had been digging into your palm.

“Not to mention,” Tom said as he took the end of Maccabruno’s tie and flipped it over his shoulder, “Not a one of them can impregnate you or cut off your clitoris. They can hurt her in ways they can’t hurt you. Understand yet?”

Maccabruno’s brow was furrowed, but he stared squarely at Tom’s lapel pocket. “Yes, sir.”

“Good job. And I need you to leave my office so that I can have the time to fucking think about how I’m gonna fix this. I can’t lose this one,” Tom said, jerking his head in your direction and crossing his arms, “due to negligence or personal error. I need her around. No one else can do what she does.”

After months of working for him, there’s validation, finally. Nice to hear you’re appreciated, but you’d rather it not be like this. For a moment, you thought about Tom saying the same things to you, but in private on one of your late nights, where you’re alone and both sleep-deprived and poring over evidence and files, and he’s got his hair all ruffled and a soft shine in his eyes, and he’s leaning close to you, body heat melding with your own, and he says in a low breath into your ear that he needs you—okay, slow down, girl. Save that for the shower. Remember these words forever, though; write them down—Tom may never say anything this positive about you again. Especially with what you’re about to say.

“Holland,” you said, stepping forward, “I might have something.”

He turned towards you, hands resting on his hips and his white shirt straining against his chest. “Something about stopping this guy releasing your information?”

“Yeah,” you said, “We release it first.”

***

ad quod damnum: according to the harm; the punishment must fit the crime.

taglist: @presidentbttrflyfreak @stealth-spiderr @astronomyparkers @starksparker @bi-writes @magstorrn @imstarwarstrashokay @wheremyotpat @infamous-webhead @pparkerwrites @laurfangirl424 @gryfinpuffs @hollandroos @softspideys @gendryia @paradoxparker @plethoraofpuppies @deranged-sewer-rat @laucontrerasv @yeastystrumpet @qxeen-of-hearts

#tom holland #tom holland/reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #mob tom #mob!tom #mob!tom holland #mob au #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #viper au #dash it all

92 notes · View notes

midwinter-fox · 5 years

Text

Admission

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

"I love you."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop and think, but it felt natural to say it - like it had been on his tongue for a while now. Leonore stood and stared at him, making him wonder if maybe he'd been too hasty. Had she not already told him that she loved him? Surely she hadn't changed her mind in the short time since then. The smile that broke forth on her face was slow and accompanied by a soft blush and what looked to be a tear. Impulsively, he reached for her and wiped the tear away with his thumb.

After nearly losing her the way he had, the realization that he couldn't be without her hit him like a ton of bricks. Fear had sunk its claws into him so fiercely that he would have lost his mind to rage had he not been so determined to find her and keep her safe. When he did find her, it was like searching for his Rhena all over again. This time though, when he looked into Leonore's eyes and saw the hope as she gazed upon his bestial form, a surge of possessiveness gripped him. He didn't want to protect her, he needed to. She was so relieved to see him, a true relief that was so clear to read on her face. That she was so easy to read made it easy to open himself to her, and that was part of what made him finally come to terms with the fact that he truly did love her.

When she leaned into the hand that cupped her cheek, he couldn't contain his feelings any longer. He swept her up into an embrace and kissed her long and hard, desperate to feel her love for him too. She returned the gesture in full, wrapping her arms about his shoulders and pressing close to him - as close as their physical forms could allow. They only parted to allow each other a chance to breathe, but he was so overcome with emotion that he continued to shower her face and neck in kisses. Her giggle graced his ears, and he delighted in it. If he could lay her out right here and take her, he would; ipnstead, he once again scooped her up into his arms and once again nuzzled her affectionately.

"I love you," he murmured against her neck before pressing another kiss there.

"I love you too, Dettlaff." Her grin was brighter than the sun. "I can't tell you how happy I am to hear you say that. What about what you said last night..? How you can't love me like you had before."

"I do not love you like I loved Rhena." Before her smile could disappear, he kissed it back into place. "My love for you is different. Her love was selfish and fierce. It was a passion that threatened to burn us alive. But you, I feel.. I cannot describe it well. It is warm and fuzzy and leaves me breathless when you smile. I want to give you all I have because I know you will give me something in return. She took from me until I had nothing left to give, but you wish to share with me so we may be happy together."

"You know I would do anything for you, right?" Inwardly, he sincerely hoped not, but the sentiment made his heart soar.

"And I, you."

Her grin was back, and the look in her eyes was one of both love and desire. He shared it in kind, a smile finding its way to his usually stoic face. It was soft, but it conveyed what he wanted her to know.

"Come. I wish to bring you back to Dillingen. Your employer will have to find someone else to take your place for today."

"Wait, what? Dettlaff, I told you--"

"If you need food, I will provide. I will provide for all of your needs. For now, let us return home so you may recover from your endeavor."

"But I--"

"Stop. No more. If you'll not come with me by choice, then I will convince you through other means."

"Such as?"

This time he silenced her with his kiss, one that left her dumb. His lips had parted hers to allow for his tongue to slip past along with a low growl, further deepening their embrace and tearing a moan from deep inside her. Even after he broke it, she felt weak and stupid, but the look in his eyes told her he knew exactly what he was doing - he looked almost playful, something Leonore had never seen in him before now.

"Any more objections?"

"Ehm..?"

"Good."

With that, he gently hoisted her up onto the back of her mare with relative ease. She had to shift her skirt so she could sit comfortably, reminding her that she needed to stop wearing skirts when travelling out of town. Then, Dettlaff climbed up to sit behind her; the horse shifted a moment as she got used to the extra weight, but with a stroke of the mane, she settled back down. Leonore had to scoot forward as far as the saddle would allow, but she still ended up with her back flush against him. Neither of them would have had it any other way.

---

He could've made the trip himself in a matter minutes, but Dettlaff didn't want to leave Leonore to travel alone - especially not if there were more thugs lurking about. Besides, holding her against him like this was worth the hour long trip at the speed they traveled - she wanted to have mercy on her horse and allow her to set a more leisurely pace for the first half of the return home.

"You know, this doesn't usually happen," she commented, breaking the silence as they watched the scenery pass slowly.

"Hm?"

"Bandits, I mean. I've delivered goods out here before and never had any troubles until today."

"It is not something you can control nor anticipate. I am simply glad to have found you safe." He punctuated his sentence by pressing his lips to her crown. There was no telling what he'd have done if she'd been hurt or killed.

"You do have impeccable timing," she hummed approvingly. With his hands on the reins she settled with keeping one hand on the horn of the saddle and the other on his thigh. She'd told him it was for stability, but it was also an excuse to touch him as much as she could get away with. He definitely didn't mind - not any more.

"Thank you again, Dettlaff. Not just for saving my life, but the farmer and his family too. I take it they know you're a vampire too now?"

"No. I dispatched the thugs by other means."

"With that dagger?" It was the first time she'd seen him wearing it, though she supposed he wouldn't have a need for it if he was just strolling about town or staying home.

"Indeed. I did not wish to reveal myself before them, but you.. You deserved to know eventually." The tone with which he spoke made him sound almost forlorn, so she gave his thigh a comforting squeeze.

"You thought it might scare me?"

"Did it not?"

"Well.. Yes and no. Sure, I was frightened at first, but I knew it was you as soon as you turned to face me. I'm glad I know what you look like in your vampire form. Now I won't mistake you for someone that might actually mean me harm."

Her words dug deep. It was only natural for her to be afraid, but that he actually brought her comfort even in that form pleased him greatly.

"I will never hurt you, liefje, no matter what form I take. This I promise." He pressed another kiss, this time to her shoulder.

"Keep that up and I'll have to exact my revenge on you as soon as we get back to town."

"What do you mean..?" Had he done something to upset her?

"You kiss me, but from where I sit, I can't kiss you back."

"This bothers you..?"

"Immensely. Why should you get to have all of the fun? If you're going to keep kissing me, then you'll have to pay dearly when we get back."

"And how would you make me pay?" She didn't have to see him to hear the smirk in his voice.

"Oh you'll see."

---

As soon as they returned to Dillingen, Leonore managed to persuade Dettlaff to get them to her house so she may tie up her horse then see about getting someone to cover the rest of her deliveries. No amount of begging or bargaining would move him from his firm stance in regards to letting her finish her job - not even the promise of sweets. Her manipulative pout almost did it for him, but he managed to tear his gaze away from her and remain unmoving. As such, she bade him stay while she handle matters with her employer and she would return shortly. Initially, he'd wanted to go with her, but he decided he'd stay put at the very least.

This was the first time he'd been to her home, and he was mildly impressed considering she was neither rich nor of higher birth. At least, he was until he realized that she could afford such spacious living because she lived very humbly. There wasn't much for furniture inside save for a sofa and side table in the foyer, a small cooking ensemble in the kitchen, and a bed and dresser in her room - there weren't even any decorations to speak of. Most of the peasant homes here barely even had two rooms in the whole building, and he contemplated why she had so much space all to herself. It was very clean at the least, but he couldn't help but feel like no one had lived there in years.

Just as he'd decided to sit and wait for her, the door opened and in she walked. She'd only been gone for about ten minutes, but he was all the more grateful for it.

"He wasn't happy about it, but after telling him about how I nearly died, he seemed to feel a bit sorry for me. He gave me the rest of today to recuperate and even went so far as to allow me tomorrow as well."

Outwardly, Dettlaff smiled, but inwardly he was practically cheering.

"This is good news. I wish to take care of you tonight if you will allow it."

"Take care of me..? What do you mean?"

He stood from her settee and approached her slowly, almost looking like a cat on the prowl. When he took her by the waist and pulled her to him, she was more than compliant, already leaning in and up to accept the kiss he was offering. With her being so short compared to him, he had to stoop to kiss her properly, but it was worth it to feel her soft lips against his.

"I wish to help you relax," he murmured against her lips once the kiss finally broke, "and make up for how coldly I treated you over the past few days."

"You don't need to make up for anything, Dettlaff. I understand why you behaved as you did."

"My reasoning is no excuse for my deplorable actions." The determination with which he spoke made her smile.

"So be it. Though, I still need to exact my revenge for all of your teasing on the way here." There was a glint in his eye to match her coy grin.

"And what will you do?"

It was her turn to do to him as he'd done to her earlier just prior to seating her on her horse. She gripped the top most buckles that fastened his coat and yanked him down. He could've easily resisted, but he wanted to see what sort of game she wished to play. Her mouth took his in a searing kiss, one that damn near made his toes curl. Snogging seemed to be something at which she excelled, for even he couldn't fathom how she could caress him with her lips and tongue as she did.

Their mouths did not part, not even when she used the distraction to push him back until he hit a wall. Her lips were demanding, but they also gave in return. That he could find such pleasure in something so simple as a kiss left him staggering, but with his purchase against the wall, he was able to use the leverage in his favor. He grabbed her by the waist and pressed their bodies together as close as physically possible, but she wasn't going to relent control. When she pressed her hips to his, it changed the tone entirely. What was originally a playful bid for dominance became hot, erotic, passionate. Before he knew it, he was moaning into their embrace thanks to one of her hands being in his hair and the other pressing and rubbing against his groin. It was almost too much and forced him to take her by the shoulders and push her back as gently as he could muster. They were both breathless, but moreso he than she.

"S-stop. We mustn't--"

"Mustn't what?" Her voice was low and alluring, her words saying one thing but her tone saying shut up and take me. However, he wasn't sure whether this was something he was ready for. She may be prepared to hop into bed with him right then and there, but with this being the first time he makes love to her, he wanted it to be more than just horny rutting.

"I.." He was having a hard time finding his voice. "I wish to make this special - more meaningful."

For a moment, she seemed confused and a little concerned, but when he expressed his desire, it was like the seductress she'd been mere seconds before vanished and was replaced with his sweet, kind Leonore. She fixed him with a warm smile.

"Dettlaff, any moment I spend with you is special. Honestly, you could take me in a hog wallow and I'd still think it perfect."

"That would be revolting." Why would she want to have sex in a mud hole?

"I don't mean that literally. I simply mean you needn't do or say anything to make this moment feel special. I appreciate the sentiment, I truly do, but I'd really enjoy it if we just let fate take things from here. If we end up in bed, then so be it. If not, then you can always try to make it more special next chance you get. For now, I'd like to forget about formalities and niceties and simply be."

"But--"

"Ah, ah. No buts. Please?"

As apprehensive as she was to the prospect of laying with him the night before, now that he professed his feelings for her, she felt an overwhelming desire to give him everything she had. He too felt this need, but he didn't want for her to think poorly of him for being so hasty. When he and Rhena had courted, they both leaped into bed very quickly. There was an undeniable attraction between them that made him want to let loose and be wild with her. Leonore, however, made him want to be the best man he could be for her, regardless of how badly he wanted to give in to his own desires.

He wasn't entirely sure what to say to try to convince her otherwise, so she took advantage of his silence to kiss him again, but this time slowly and tenderly. She was taking her time with him now, and he appreciated it immensely. This was something he wanted to last forever.

Her hands busied themselves with undoing the buckles holding his coat together while his had already started with the buttons on his shirt - even if he wanted to take her slowly, he still wanted to feel her skin against his. Together, they managed to get the most complicated of his clothing undone before he began kissing a trail from her mouth down to her neck. His teeth scraped against her skin as he nipped lightly - not hard enough to draw blood, but it did make her gasp and moan into his ear. He paid a lot of attention to her neck and throat with his lips and tongue and teeth. When he sucked softly at her pulse, she seemed like she was going to collapse in his arms.

As soon as her knees buckled, he swept her up and carried her to the bedroom. Her bed was too small to even allow for both of them to lay on it side by side, but one on top of the other would do just fine. He set her on the edge of the bed, and as soon as he settled beside her she climbed astride his lap and smashed her lips to his in another heated kiss. There was no resistance on his part this time. His hands flew to her hips to keep her steady atop him while hers held his shoulders firmly for balance. This kiss was nothing like their previous tender embraces - it was a passionate, fevered kiss that she poured all of her desire into. She made known how badly she wanted him with her lips and tongue.

How long had she been feeling like this, her needs unmet only to build to the point of bursting? As much as he wanted to try to think back to see if there were signs he might have missed, he couldn't very well think when her mouth broke from his and latched onto the sensitive skin of his neck, kissing and nipping like it was sustenance to her hungry tongue.

His gasp when her teeth teased at his flesh was followed by a needy whine; he let his head fall to the side, offering himself to her with the thoughts of resistance banished from his mind. She did for him what he'd been doing to her only moments earlier, but this time a hand in his hair pulled deliciously, turning him into little more than a mess of moans and whimpers - what she didn't know was that she had perhaps the most sensitive part of him at her mercy. The common tongue was lost on him - he couldn't speak if he tried. When she grew tired of punishing the delicate skin of his neck, she tried to push his coat and blouse from his shoulders and he discarded them quickly and unceremoniously.

"See? You're learning quickly," she commented breathlessly as her hands now wandered the expanse of his chest, fingers combing through the short hair before following the trail down his torso to the hem of his pants.

Her hands stopped and made him want to growl in defiance, but she had abandoned her path to pull at the ties keeping her own blouse closed then pushed the loose fabric from her shoulders to bare herself before him. If she ever wore a brazier, it wasn't there, and this time he did growl, but with lust. It was the first time she'd heard him emit such a beastly sound, but he could smell the arousal on her like a cheap perfume. Despite his growing impatience, he managed to tear his eyes from her breasts to beg permission with his gaze.

"Go ahead. They're all yours."

With her blessing, he finally took to tending to her pleasure with his own mouth, first placing hard kisses to her neck and chest before dragging his tongue across one of her pert nipples. He was but one man, but he was gifted with two hands, both of which moved from her hips to her chest and covered her plump breasts appreciatively. She moaned her approval, a hand returning to his hair as he dove in to enclose one of her rosy buds with his lips. Though he wanted nothing more than to lose himself to his base desires, he reined in control so as not to scare or harm her and hopefully make this moment last. His tongue and teeth were gentle against her sensitive flesh, but he would then suckle hard to draw out long cries that stirred his growing want into almost desperation.

When he finally pulled his head from her fair bosom, he kissed her full on the lips then helped her finish removing her blouse. With the strength with which his kind was gifted, though she was very light to him regardless of that, he lifted her up off of his lap to lay her on her bed and hover just above her.

"Zeg me dat je me wilt," he panted against her, his lips once again at her neck as he awaited her response, not realizing that he'd reverted back to Nazairi in his lust-addled state.

"Dettlaff, I don't understand you." She too was breathless, but between her words, she gave him almost a squeak of pleasure each time he nipped at her. With a frustrated grunt, he lifted himself up only enough to lock eyes with her.

"Do you want me." He didn't ask, he demanded.

"What kind of a question is that?"

"I will not touch you if you do not answer." His words were a bit slower as he struggled to think straight long enough to translate words in his head.

Leonore rolled her eyes. "Of course I want you."

Without another word, he kissed her again, drawing her delighted moans into his mouth as his hand deftly removed her skirt. He pulled away again to tug it off of her, though he'd have much preferred to rip it off with how impatient he was.

Once the offending article was discarded, Dettlaff stood back to view his work. Her pale skin was rosy across her face, shoulders, and chest. Goosebumps erupted along her arms and legs with them being exposed to the cool air. She had bothered to wear undergarments, but the damp little scrap of cloth did little to hide her arousal from him. Overall, she was a work of art - a true masterpiece - but she was unfinished, and as her artist he would see to it that she be made complete by his hands.

Originally, he hoped to take his time with her to savor every curve and blemish that her body had to offer him, but he was too far gone to care about such niceties now. The way she teased and goaded him with her body and her moans were drudging up that deep desire and need for release that came with having no one for so long. He was getting desperate.

Her underwear was discarded with the rest of her clothing, soon followed by what remained of his. He could feel her eyes appraise his body; the way she chewed her lower lip and unconsciously allowed her thighs to part for him told him all he needed to know. His body covered hers, both of them feeling warm to the touch with their burning desire. Almost instinctively, her legs wrapped about him, welcoming him to bypass formalities and sink himself into her with a smooth, fluid thrust.

Nothing in this world or any others could feel as good to him as this woman beneath him. Her gasp then sigh as he seated himself in her fully only served to make his heart flutter in his chest. For a moment he stilled, waiting for her to tell him that she was okay. The answer he received was the press of her hips into his, and so he finally moved against her. The pleasure he felt was inexplicable. There was a time when he thought he felt this with his past lover, but even she hadn't made him feel so loved as the little beauty beneath him.

He watched her face while he moved inside her, noting each little change in her expression with each shift of pace and angle. When she cried out in her euphoria, he pressed harder, faster, evoking that cry again and again until he was certain she was so close to coming undone. The need he felt for her and her moans turned his desire into molten metal - searing hot and heavy in his loins as he strove to push her over the proverbial peak where lay her release.

Then, her back arched, pressing her chest into him like she could become one with him if she only tried. The tightening of her core around him made him groan, but he only paused briefly to allow her time to ride out her ecstasy before seeking his own pleasure next. His internal struggle to at least refrain from causing her discomfort was soon becoming external as he gripped the covers on either side of her head, his arms trembling and sharp nails puncturing holes into her bedding as he fought to keep from snapping like the monster he felt he truly was. He had to shut his eyes as he tempered each thrust of his hips, trying so desperately to refrain from causing his woman - his - any harm.

Her soft voice, quavering under the intense pressure of her once more building pleasure, brought him out of his head.

"Please, Dettlaff.. T-take me.. Just let go." His name on her lips broke something within him. With renewed vigor and a determination to bring her over the edge of glory once more, he allowed his control to slip further.

The power behind each push of his hips was nothing compared to his true capabilities, but he feared all of the resolve he had to protect her was lost in favor of setting a bruising pace in her. Her nails dug into his shoulders, making his fangs itch to sink into her, to mark her, claim her. Instead, he dug his teeth into his palm, the taste of his own blood deterring him from trying to taste hers.

"Ahh, don't you dare, hahh, hide your moans from me," Leonore groaned, her hand only removing itself from his shoulder to pull his own from his mouth. As soon as she had, a flurry of swears poured from his lips, all of which she couldn't understand a syllable. He buried is face in her shoulder, his breath hot against her skin.

"Ik- Ahhh, ik hou van jou." His words were strained, his whole being quivering as he pushed against his release, pouring his strength and will into making himself last as long as he could.

His grunts and groans devolved into debauched moans and needy whimpers.

"M-mijn liefje, mijn hart--" He cut himself off with a low cry.

Their moans intermingled into a symphony of pleasure, his own release bringing about hers. Unable to keep it at bay any longer, he spilled himself inside her with a few final presses of his hips into hers.

She whimpered against him as he struggled to keep his weight off of her, but her bed wasn't quite large enough to allow for both of them to lay on it together. Despite his body being temporarily sapped of energy - mostly thanks to his restraint - he gathered Leonore's spent form into his arms and lifted her. It took minimal effort, but after their exertion, he wanted to move as little as possible. With his lover pressed firmly against him, he laid back down with her body draped across his. The movement caused his softening member to slip from her, but she made no indication of discomfort.

Both of them breathed heavily, though Dettlaff recovered much quicker than Leonore did. Soon he was gently running his clawed hand through her locks while she was content to lay and comb her fingers through the hair on his chest. Neither said anything for a while until she recovered enough to push herself up and gaze up at him lovingly.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion. The way the sunlight shone in from her window onto her tangled hair and flushed face made his heart tighten.

"Amazing." She seemed to be dazed but pleased.

"Did I hurt you..?" His tone did little to mask his trepidation, but she shook her head, the blissful smile still on her face.

"Of course not. I would tell you if you had."

That provided immense relief; he would have been incredibly hard on himself if he ever did anything to cause her pain.

"Good. I never wish to harm you."

He smiled when she leaned upward to kiss him tenderly. Their kiss was short and sweet, but with her naked body draped across his, he could feel the familiar stirring in his groin. It didn't go unnoticed, made apparent when Leonore shot him a coy smirk and ground her hips into his.

"Again? Is that a vampire trait, or do you just get excited easily?"

"Mmh, I have more stamina than mortals do, and I recover from most anything with relative ease."

"So what you're saying is that we can go all night long..?"

He paused before answering, but only because she effectively stunned him with her brazen reply. Well, if she truly wanted to keep going, who was he to stop? With how she was running her hands over his body, he wouldn't even be able to stop either of them if he tried.

"If you think you are feeling well enough for it." It would give him the chance to show her the true extent of his love and desire for her.

"Oh I am." She would prove as much until dawn.

#dettlaff #dettlaff van der eretein #my tales #oc #ufw #it finally happened #it took like almost ten chapters to get here #i don't think this is gonna end very soon #oof too many ideas

26 notes · View notes

bryanfaganlaw · 5 years

Text

What factors are relevant for visitation with your children during a CPS case in Texas?

If you have need a best suitable service your Child Law experience, What factors are relevant for visitation with your children during a CPS case in Texas? with the great process!

Houston Family Law Lawyer: When you have school, aged children going through a CPS case it is important that you be able to spend as much time with them as possible in order to help them cope with the difficulties of the case. Even though your children are now in school and are not spending as much time with you, there is still a significant degree of attachment that exists between you and your child. That attachment depends on the trust that your child has in the availability of their parents to help him or her deal with problems in their life.

A benefit of having older children involved in the CPS case is that they are able to take advantage of telephone calls, email, text messaging and Skype calls in order to communicate with you. You should check with your CPS caseworker to see what means are available to you in order to facilitate communication with your school-aged child. Face to face contact with you on a weekly basis is a necessity, however, and a good initial goal would be to able to see your child once a week at least.

Another benefit to having a child who is of school age is that he or she can participate in the creation of a safety plan. Your child may want to see you as often as possible or may have different feelings depending on the nature of your case. Either way, you can take these desires into consideration. It seems like children of this age will be provided with multiple visitation opportunities on a weekly basis once their case is underway.

Teenaged children: what special factors affect visitation opportunities with children of this age?

As I mentioned a moment ago, in developing a visitation plan with your CPS caseworker, older children should be consulted as much is appropriate in your situation. In a way, children will use they are being able to have a say in this process as a means of coping with the separation from you and the upheaval in their lives. Their ability to continue to see you, to be able to attend school and to participate in extracurricular activities are a part of this process.

Your child may be developmentally stunted by being removed from your home. The separation that goes on during a CPS case is another hurdle that your child may have to overcome as well. Regular visitation with you can help a teenaged child to overcome these problems without any unnecessary bumps in the road.

Older teenagers: helping a child overcome problems as they transition into adulthood

If you are the parent of an older teenager that is going through a CPS case it is often beneficial to have even more regular visitation with the child than you would see for younger children. The reason for this is due to the need for older children to become refined in their abilities to problem solve as they prepare for adulthood. So many of the lessons that we learn about how to function as adults are learned at home in these teenaged years.

What role does your child’s foster family play in determining a visitation schedule?

Family Lawyers in Houston: You should look at your child’s foster family as partners in this process instead of as adversaries. I know that it can be awkward to navigate this aspect of your child’s case but it is crucial to have foster parents that are encouraging in their attitudes towards you being able to visit with your children as often as possible.

Whether you like it or not your child’s foster parents can be a huge part of your building a relationship with your child since the beginning of your CPS case. These folks can help you to assist with the process of getting your child to engage in visitation opportunities with you.

For instance, on a daily basis, the foster family can help your child to use whatever communication devices have been approved by the judge in order to contact you. Something as simple as having the foster family remind your child to call you at a certain time each day is a great benefit to you. Keep in mind that the foster family can also prevent you from engaging in excessive or inappropriate attempts to communicate with your child.

The foster family to your child is also on the front lines in terms of being able to help your child sort through the difficult emotions that they have experienced in terms of the removal from your home. However, you should not seek out the foster family in this regard. The foster parents are best suited to speak directly to CPS about any problems- not with you or your child.

When your child does have visits with you, the foster family is often the first group of people that will be able to spend time with the child. These folks will be able to keep a note of how your child behaves, what your child says and generally your child's attitudes towards spending time with him or her. If the foster parent observed that issues arose in a particular visitation session that can be reported to the CPS caseworker. You can address these issues with the caseworker directly rather than letting the issues and worsen over time.

Helping you to be at an event, even when you can’t be

Suppose that your child is the star quarterback on the middle school football team. Or maybe your son plays in the band at the high school. Not being able to attend games and performances can be one of the most difficult aspects of the separation caused by CPS cases. Even though you cannot be present for many of these events, the foster family to your child can help you feel like you were there.

Many foster families will go out of their way to make sure that you as the parent feels like you are involved in these important events of your child. Pictures and videos that are taken by a foster family and shared with you via email can be a nice gesture by the foster family which helps you to feel as involved as possible in the life of your child. Furthermore, the foster family best serves your child by speaking about you in positive ways whenever you are brought up in conversation by your child.

What would need to happen in a CPS case in order to have your child placed with a relative on a temporary basis?

If you have relatives available to help foster your children during a CPS case, this can be a great benefit to you as well as to your child. Allowing your child to live with people that they have a pre-existing relationship with can ease the transition and also provide your child with stability in the months to follow. If you can imagine how difficult it would be for your child to manage their emotions during a case, a relative may be in the best position to help manage your child’s emotions due to their already having a relationship with your child.

Keep in mind that your child may need support not just from family and CPS but also from social workers and school administrators like principals and counselors. The role of a social worker is to act as a liaison between your relative who is providing care to your child and you and your spouse. If you can better communicate with your child through the social worker and encourage an understanding between yourselves and your child that is great for the healing process.

What role will emotions in your child play regarding visitation during a CPS case?

Family Law Attorneys Houston: The emotions that your child feels during the placement phase of a CPS case can be as varied as the number of children that there are in this world. By this, I mean that different children experience this process in different ways. Your child may be happy and excited to come and visit you or may feel apprehensive about you seeing him after he has spent time with another family.

There may be instances where your child gets upset immediately before, after or even during a visit with you. Sometimes children will seemingly regress in age by a few years due to the stress of these sort of visits. Your four-year-old may take on “baby” behavior and act inappropriately for a child of their age. Being moody, avoiding conversation, avoiding eye contact and acting disrespectfully are other examples of behaviors that I have experienced with kids put into this position.

These are normal, human feelings that are related to lose and separation that they feel due to the removal of themselves from your home. Their sense of permanency and stability has been greatly affected by the CPS case and their emotions are a result of that upheaval in their lives. Some children retreat into themselves and show no outward emotions at all. Others express themselves in ways that are more demonstrative.

Another idea to keep in mind is that because there may be a history of poor treatment of you towards your child, he or she may not be overly excited to visit with you. That is understandable, and you have the task before you to do whatever you can to put this issue behind you. It is your job as the parent to take steps towards healing this relationship. Reassure your child that they have done nothing to hurt your family and that you are doing everything that you can to return him or her to your home because you love them.

What can you do when visitation sessions cause your child to suffer negative emotions?

Whatever needs your child has from an emotional standpoint, it is the job of your caseworker to identify those emotions and do what is necessary to address them. Your caseworker will need to build a trust-filled relationship with your child in order to be able to effectively convey your emotions to you and to your child’s foster family.

On the other hand, if your child is experiencing negative emotions due to not seeing you enough, visitation privileges should be extended so that you may be able to see your child more frequently. Many times your child will feel more comfortable with a sibling or grandparent attending the visitation sessions with you. The reason for this is that your child may identify with that person as being a confidant.

Finally, you should not feel pressured to talk to your child about things that he or she is not comfortable discussing with you. Your child may be having trouble trusting you during the initial stages of the CPS case. This may be a justified mistrust, or it may be due to their not understanding why your family is in the position that it is in. Either way, you need to be prepared to deal with some emotions from your child that you are not used to experiencing.

Questions about CPS investigations, visitation or anything in between? Contact the Law Office of Bryan Fagan

Houston Family Law Lawyers: If you have any questions about the material that was included in today’s blog post please do not hesitate to contact the Law Office of Bryan Fagan. Our licensed family law can schedule you for a free of charge consultation six days a week. These consultations are a great opportunity to ask questions and receive direct feedback about your particular circumstances.

Our attorneys work on behalf of clients across southeast Texas in family courts. We have achieved superior results for our clients in each due to the effort that we put into all of our cases and the belief that every client deserves our very best every day. Whether yours is a divorce, child custody, CPS, adoption or grandparent's rights case, please contact us to talk about how we may best help you and your family. Thank you for your time and consideration ... Continue Reading

2 notes · View notes

arttlations · 5 years

Text

two

From then on, Lu Feng and I naturally became closer. After sufficient time spent with the other and realizing that the other wasn't as hateful as he seemed and could be in fact, rather cute at times, our relationship rapidly became stronger. I guess the two of us were initially opposites that attracted (personality-wise) but gradually, we kind of rubbed off each other, as seen from Lu Feng's decreasing demerits and my increased cursing.

Not long after our friendship had stabilized, Lu Feng started his criticisms towards my appearance.

"You look really ugly with these glasses, kind of like a mushroom."

God , just when I start being nice, you start crossing the line.

"It's none of your business."

"It's really ugly though."

"If you're going to continue, then write the essay yourself." At that time, I was working on an essay for the useless trash who repays kindness with evil beside me in exchange for three of the canteen's famous pot-stewed chicken drumstick. The essay's title was "My View On Cheating". The school's something something cup essay competition didn't receive enough submissions and hence set a target amount to be collected from each class regardless of the quality.

Both Lu Feng and I hit the jackpot, all thanks to his wide smile after hearing my name being called which resulted in his name being the next one called, which then resulted in me being the smiling one instead. Lu Feng was rather strong in his maths and sciences, but when it came to his two languages, his mistakes could make one cry, making it hard to believe that he was a Chinese, and an American Chinese at that. Rumour had it his midterms' essay was written merely with his stream of consciousness, and by stream of consciousness it meant that he wrote whatever he saw, for example, if he saw a bird fly past or observed that the girl in front of him had on a skirt that was revealing her thighs, he could perhaps try to write a poem of sorts, but to write an essay based on that......

When he received an average result, I guessed the teacher must have been captured by the absolutely mysterious introduction and conclusion. Lu Feng's good handwriting that looked just like a work of calligraphy must have left a strong impression as well.

But if a miracle happens again, it wouldn't be called a miracle anymore. That was why Lu Feng's usual essays were basically pathetic scraps of paper, no matter how you looked at it, it was only at the standard of a primary school child. Giving him a pass was already a lot to ask. Lu Feng himself was clear about this, hence, he had taken the initiative to buy the chicken drumsticks and placed them in my lunchbox in front of me in order to give me some mental strength, at the same time, buttering me up further by fanning me from the side. (It was the end of November where people needed a woolen sweater to get by.)

For my own essay, I had painstakingly written my comments, analysis, and reflections about the unhealthy practices in the exam hall, and at the end, I had included a deep and sincere message, "For socialism, we as students should have a strong foundation in our education journey and should never cheat!" My essay was the perfect example of "a good youth's traditional ideas on socialism".

As for Lu Feng's, with a swish of the pen, I fired away with my baseless theories, reprimanding the education system and demanding for changes to be made. "If it exists, it must be reasonable. When cheating has changed from a rare occurrence to a frequent problem, changed from a figment of one's imaginations to a habit, then we have to take a closer look at why this is reasonable......"

"It is a gentleman's clever use of other tools rather than his prominent wisdom that helps him stand out.", "A good wind relies on borrowed strength to send me up to the heavens.", when an individual's ability is limited, appropriate usage of other tools as a means to reach his target cannot be said to be an unfair shortcut. From an educational point of view, I believe..."

"Furthermore, just like how the public's worries over their security do not necessarily reflect the decreased quality in character among people but rather the instability amongst the government, the increased frequency of cheating cases do not reflect the student's lack of knowledge and ideas. The real problem lies with our education system which is full of gaps. A change in the education system is, therefore, a much more pressing and effective measure as compared to catching students who are cheating in the exam hall..."

The rest was pretty much similar to those written above, all simply lines of nonsense which feared no god. The rant had left me rather contented when I was done. Watching me write as if I was possessed and coming up with large chunks of text within a mere half an hour, Lu Feng was too dazed to even guess that I was digging his grave.

After finishing, I munched away at the drumsticks, laughing to myself now and then. That big idiot Lu Feng didn't even give it a second glance before writing his own name and shoving the paper in his bag for submission tomorrow.

"Xiao Chen, don't wear this pair of glasses anymore, they look terrible." A standard example of biting the hand that feeds you.

"......" I wiped my mouth, then started, "My eyes don't look good, wearing this would shield you from some of that ugliness." A boy's looks didn't really matter, but having been criticized multiple times, I didn't feel all that comfortable either.

"Why don't you take it off? It wouldn't be worse than this current look anyway."

"......" I turned around and ignored him.

"Come on, Xiao Chen, we have no idea how you look without your glasses either. Remove them so we can have a look."

"I rather not... I'll look terrible and give you guys a scare." It wasn't my fault that I was

born ugly, but there was no need to show off this fact.

Suddenly, caught off guard, my vision became a blur as my glasses were removed by Lu Feng. Since the first year of senior high, my left eye had a power of 375 while my right was 425 (this later seemed to remain the same for about 7-8 years), and with my relatively bad astigmatism, the sudden loss of my glasses made everything before me appear as a mere blur, so all I could do was blankly stare ahead with my mouth slightly opened in shock.

My surroundings became quiet, and only after a while then did I hear the dorm head Xiao Shan laugh dryly before saying, "Xiao Chen...... You actually look quite cute."

Lu Feng returned my glasses by placing them on my face again. "Forget it, you should just keep wearing them."

"I already said I would look bad." I faintly smiled. Strangely, I felt a little upset over Lu Feng's remark.

I can't deny it, Lu Feng is the level's most charming male student. Due to the mixed genes, his features are a lot more distinct than most people. If you looked that good, you would definitely be more picky towards others' appearances - I'm simply comforting myself.

I'm actually still quietly hoping that Lu Feng wouldn't find me ugly.

Lu Feng gave me a small smile. After everyone had gone out of the dorm room to prepare for the night's self-study in the classrooms, he scooted closer to me and reminded me, "Don't let others see you without your glasses in the future."

"I got it." My tone wasn't all that kind. "I'm not wicked enough to go out and scare others when I have nothing to do."

Lu Feng's smile grew wider. "You understand my meaning?"

Irritated, I pushed him away. "Go away, I've to go for self-study now. If you find me ugly, stay further away from me. Don't stand here lest I scare you."

Suddenly, he grabbed me and pulled me towards him, his head lowering to speak lowly in my ear, "I'm saying, that look from before made me feel like kissing you."

"You- Have you gone crazy?" I was stunned for a moment, my face turning a ripe red before I bellowed angrily.

Lu Feng chuckled.

I turned around to avoid looking at that arrogant smirk on his face and kept myself busy by packing my journal and practice questions for the self-study session.

"Eh? Where are my socks?" Lu Feng lowered his head as he searched the room.

"I washed them."

This man looked absolutely fresh and clean from the outside, but on the inside, he was a mess. He never washes his socks, and after wearing a pair, he would put them under his pillow. Once all the socks have gathered under his pillow, he would pick a pair that was not as dirty or smelly as the rest and wear them. About more than half a school term had passed, but not once have I seen him wash his socks. I would bet that if I took any one of them, it would be hard enough for it to stand upright on the floor by itself. Even though I slept on the top bunk, I could barely stand the smell, and yet he didn't find it in the least bit disgusting. In the afternoon, after class, when he was out buying the chicken drumsticks, I took the chance and washed all of those pungent socks. It was only after I hung them up to dry then did I realise there was more than a dozen of them. Gosh.

"You washed them?" Lu Feng lifted his head, casting me a strange look.

"Wh-why?" I was starting to think that there were millions of pounds worth of notes in them seeing his terrifying expression.

"Xiao Chen, you helped me wash my socks?"

"Yes..." I was confused.

"I love you!" Lu Feng spread his arms and immediately gave me a hug. Having not avoided it, I was forcefully wrapped in his arms and given a peck on my face.

"You pervert!" The shock was too much for my heart to take.

"I am a pervert." Lu Feng smiled sneakily. "Here, I'll kiss you once more."

"Dream on." I smacked a thick chemistry textbook on his face, only to be smoothly grabbed by the arm and pressed down on the bed.

"Hey, stop it!" I begged, "I'm ticklish..." Before I could finish, I felt a small attack on my waist, causing me to erupt in laughter.

"Ticklish?" Lu Feng was smiling. "How about this spot? Here? Or here?"

The places he touched felt as if I had come into contact with lightning, making me curl up into a ball, laughing till I found it hard to breathe.

"Xiao Chen, you're really sensitive."

"If I'm ticklish, I'm ticklish. Why is there a need for such a sensual word?" I got up, eyeing his complicated expression as he bit down on his lower lip, his amber eyes sparkling.

"Why are you acting so weirdly? Did you hit your head or something?"

"Nothing." He smiled, wearing his Nike sports shoes barefooted before picking his bag up. "Let's go for self-study."

one//masterlist

#a round trip to love translation #arttl #a round trip to love #boys love #gay boys #bl novel #book translation

12 notes · View notes

poppyknitt · 6 years

Text

A Miracle Of Life- A JSE Egos Fanfic

Recap: Marvin has finally returned from wherever he had wandered off to after being essentially abandoned by the others for his mistakes and wrongdoings, but not without having things go very wrong for him in the process. He ended up violently crashing into the ground at a velocity that shouldn’t even be humanly possible to attain without going into a top-class military jet, and sustained tons of serious injuries. He was lucky enough to stabilize and return to consciousness within a few hours past when he got to the hospital. As it stands now, JJ and Robbie have forgiven him, whilst Henrik lashed out at him, but came to regret doing so, once he found out the cause of Marvin’s prior “phase”.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

[December 15th]

Jackie quickly followed as his fiancé was hurried off to a delivery room, his heart beating wildly and his mind racing in hundreds of directions as he tried to process a million things at once. All he remembered clearly by now was the moment it happened- He had been helping Ava climb the stairs up to their apartment, when suddenly, her water broke. After that, the race to get to a hospital as soon as they could, and everything else that had happened, was a total blur. He wasn’t able to completely process everything as fast as it happened, even as they got to the room, and started waiting and preparing for their son’s arrival. They had thankfully decided on calling him Liam a few days ago, so naming him would be the least of their worries.

As he held Ava’s hand, and stared lovingly into her eyes, all he could think or hope for was that everything was going to be okay.

Seán wrapped up the recording for the day’s video, sent the files to Robin for editing, and turned around. He stared at Sam in confusion, having noticed him floating behind him, thankfully out of view of the camera, practically staring through the closed door. He got up, and walked over to him.

“What is it, buddy? Is there something there?” He whispered. Sam looked at him, and nodded. He took a deep breath in, and slowly opened the door, peeking outside the room to see what could possibly be there. To his surprise, a little green creature, which looked almost like a Venus flytrap crossed with a snake, was staring back at them, its head poking out from the doorway two doors down.

He stepped out, and began to approach it, but it just slithered away, heading to the other hallway, which was a dead end. He could tell it was a familiar of some kind, given its appearance and the almost undetectably faint magical aura it gave off.

As he turned the corner, he stopped, blinking in surprise when he saw that someone, who looked a fair bit like Marvin, if he had long, wavy hair with green and purple dye in it, was sitting in the window at the end of the hall, staring out of it boredly.

The person turned, as if detecting his sudden presence, blinked at him, taking a moment to understand what was happening, and then spoke, “Oh! You must be this world’s Sean! Uh... I-I didn’t realize there were worlds where you’d woken up yet... Sorry.”

“Worlds? What, you mean like, the multiverse theory or whatever?”

“Yeah. Neat, right? I’m, uh, Marvin, but you probably figured that out already, haven’t you..?”

“... Yep. Mind explaining why you’re here? I’m not exactly on the greatest of terms with my Marvin right now.” His voice dripped faintly with aggravation.

“Oh..! Right... I should’ve figured he chose that path... it would explain the difference in Henrik and Jackie’s mental health..” The almost childlike magician’s stature sunk as he probably figured out what was going on.

“Wait, wha-“

“Oh! Oh my god, you have a Sam?!” He interrupted, his eyes lighting up as he marveled at the little eye.

~~~

[10:47PM]

Jackie held tightly onto his beloved’s hand, as her contractions began, trying to help her handle the pain. Time seemed to zip by before he could really process its passage, as the anticipation for the end result built up more and more.

Before he knew it, the moment was there, and it was almost 12am. He felt his heart swell up with joy-filled pride, as he held his newborn son close to his side. It only lasted a moment, though, because he was then alerted to the fact that it wasn’t over yet.

“What?! Wh- How?! The ultrasounds only showed one kid!” He exclaimed, eyes wide.

“Ultrasounds aren’t always accurate. Sometimes one baby hides the other from the scanner. It’s very rare, but it’s happened before.” The doctor explained. Ava looked at him, her eyes wide and almost pleading for it to be over with soon.

Seán sighed, pacing restlessly around the kitchen. The newcomer, who had removed his mask some time ago, stared at him, clearly nervous about whatever was happening.

“Hey, uh, by the way... Have you encountered a second Anti roaming around in your world..?” He started again. Seán stopped immediately after hearing that, and turned to look at him, eyes wide.

“What?”

“Uh, you know... A new Anti that’s presumably a bit different from your own, but just as dangerous..?” He shrunk back a bit.

“No, what do you mean, a second fucking Anti?!” He turned around fully, and placed both hands on the table, almost glaring at the poor magician.

“I... um... well... i-it’s kinda the reason I left my world..? A-Apparently my Anti has figured out how to hop dimensions, and, well... he’s... a bit of a megalomaniac..? So he’s probably trying to gain control of the multiverse or something..?” Merlin, as he said he usually went by when not in his own universe, fiddled with his hands nervously, as he shrunk back far enough into his seat that he was probably about to slide right out of it.

“God damn it. Of course there’s another Anti running around making a mess of things..!”

“... So..rry..?” Merlin smiled nervously, his eyes still pretty wide.

“It’s fine.. Not the weirdest damn thing that’s happened since I woke back up.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

~~~

[December 16th, 12:45AM]

Jackie could barely believe everything that was happening. Between the suddenness of Ava’s water breaking, the drawn out timespan between it, when Liam was finally born, and the discovery of a second baby, everything was just really blurred together, and hard to work his mind through. Before he even knew what was happening, Ava was cradling a second baby boy in her arms, and his mind was being overwhelmed with a flurry of emotions ranging all the way from concern to pure joy. He laughed softly, feeling tears of unknown origin welling up as he hugged Ava and his sons close to him.

“What will their names be?” A nurse asked.

“... Liam. Liam and Brandon.”

——————————————————

Next Chapter

(Hey! Look! The intermediary chapter came like, almost a month early!) Yeah so uh I was like “Okay so uh we’re gonna need some World Initiative between the setting up of WorldView, right?” and had no ideas for anything else until i got to writing this chapter, and, well, couple that with the fact that i had to do SOMETHING relatively creative to ward away my spontaneous bout of dissociation, and, uh, ya get this, i guess... But yeah. Merlin’s chasing Monitor down on his own, like the adorably stupid and childish idiot he is, probably giving his world’s Jackie and Henrik a heart attack in the process, and he thought that there wasn’t gonna be anyone at Jack’s apartment, so, logically, he took this as an excuse to be alone and enjoy himself for a little while-

have i mentioned how much I absolutely love merlin as a character? cuz i do

@antis-loyal-puppet

@tiny-septic-puppet

@septic-dr-schneep

@chaoticcrimsonrose

@rorald-spooks

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye egos #jackieboy man #marvin the magnificent #marvin the magician #World Initiative #wi!jackie #wi!sean #sean mcloughlin #little baby liam #bold little brandon #wv!marvin #fanfic

8 notes · View notes