#i will admit the argument is weakened by the fact that i work from home and therefore won't be abandoning him completely

[merry-death]

Do you think my boss would accept this picture of my cat being so so sad that I have to get up as a valid reason for me not to work today?

[nation-of-bros]

Neurological Changes Caused by Vaccines

A Vietnamese student told me today that more and more vaccinated people in his home country are suffering from memory problems, and as a triple vaccinated person it is also becoming increasingly difficult for him to remember things. Apparently, the WEF elites want people not only to die prematurely "socially acceptable" (just before retirement age), but also to become stupid and "euphoric"; completely enchanted in the head.

The way they're now partying everywhere and don't want to admit anything, that doesn't surprise me at all. A brave new world.

Artificially made stupid

I have not only been critical of vaccinations since Corona, but since the end of my training as a laboratory assistant, when I had my head free again for other things and was able to deal with them more deeply. But the main reason was that a few weeks after a hepatitis jab I got red spots all over my body and my joints swelled up. I could not move without pain and suffered from a high fever. Only after 6 weeks did I feel somewhat better again. I cured this disease naturally. Today I think it was a serious side effect of vaccination because I found that even conventional vaccines contain a number of chemicals that are harmful to the body. I am also convinced that my skin problems are clearly due to the many jabs i got.

Western children today are more chronically ill than ever before. Poor diet or lack of exercise alone cannot explain this catastrophic condition. Everyday chemicals must also be considered as a factor. But what could be worse than injecting questionable substances directly into the body, where every natural protective mechanism is inevitably bypassed?!

In recent decades, more and more vaccinations have been officially recommended for children. Indirect vaccine requirements for certain institutions led to the necessary pressure, for example when schools refuse to educate unvaccinated children. This development took place long before Corona and was hardly questioned, because up until then vaccinations had been viewed by the majority as a "self-evident achievement".

Moreover, out of blind trust in Western medicine, the general public completely ignores the fact that conventional vaccines without exception contain aluminum hydroxide as an "potentiator". Some vaccines are even preserved with organic mercury salts, along with other chemicals such as formalin (formaldehyde). Both metals are absolutely harmful to the human body and primarily attack nerve tissue. Mercury turns the brain into a sponge in the truest sense of the word. I therefore consider vaccinations to be the main cause of the increasing learning deficits in children, a general lack of intelligence, and the increasing number of cases of dementia, especially among those under 60 years of age. There is also the suspicion that the many jabs in children can damage the islet cells, for example, and thus cause diabetes.

The obvious neurological damage caused by vaccinations may also be a reason why noticeably more children are autistic. Of course, psychologists don't skimp on diagnoses these days, because that's their daily bread. However, in Western society we are faced with an increasing number of autistic people who are emotionally deadened or completely unable to understand interpersonal relationships. And this development is not seriously discussed either!

Arguments against vaccination

First of all, I have nothing against the vaccination theory, as described on the paper, if only weakened or dead pathogens are actually administered. I doubt whether this actually works as hoped in practice and can be applied to all types of biological pathogens. But the most important counter-argument for me is the practice of the pharmaceutical industry, which for cost reasons stretches vaccines with aluminum hydroxide. In my opinion, this is fraud across the board and makes it absolutely questionable whether such vaccinations can still immunize at all, or whether a symptom of poisoning is simply sold to us as immunization against a supposed pathogen. We're told that aluminum "stimulates" the immune system, as measured by increased white blood cells. But my common sense tells me it's a f*cking intoxication of the body to chemicals that just shouldn't be injected into the body!

The killer argument for vaccinations today is that they helped "eradicate" disease. However, this statement can also be refuted with the official data. If you take the figures from Germany, for example, you will find that from the 1950s the extremely improved living conditions led to a sharp decline in all diseases such as poliomyelitis long before the first mass vaccinations. Incidentally, polio is a typical post-war disease due to malnutrition. So it is by no means the case that we can simply blindly believe everything that is taught in school books today or is even considered to be "officially documented truth".

This constant vaccination is generally so exaggerated nowadays that they convince us, man could not survive without any jabs: hundreds of thousands of years of human evolution seem forgotten! At this point I always like to mention Johann Wolfgang von Goethe as an example, because he died 200 years ago in pre-industrial Germany, where the general life expectancy was far below 50 years. Goethe, on the other hand, reached the age of 82 in excellent health. The reason for this is simple: Goethe comes from a wealthy family and never had to suffer hunger or other deprivations. He always had a warm, clean roof over his head. Vaccinations would not have made him older or more protected!

Last but not least, one has to mention at this point: Normally, a woman used to have several children and if two of six kids died of some kind of illness due to general weakness, then that was just the way it was, natural selection, and ultimately fate. The modern world, where women are already overwhelmed with one child, which often does not seem the healthiest, has completely forgotten that nature is primarily concerned with quantity. Vaccinations therefore do not contribute to an improvement in health in the long term, from an evolutionary point of view.

Baby Killers

We must also not forget that even newly born babies get vaccinated today: You comme into this world; and instead of providing you with a healthy natural environment, you are "welcomed" by doctors with numerous shots that make you chronically ill and damage your brain, thereby limiting your divine mental potential. This is absolutely sick and I see no difference to Huxley's dystopia. It is therefore not surprising that some children die "unexpectedly", played down by society as "sudden infant death". Perhaps this is not due to the chemicals directly, but the decision of the higher consciousness, which changed its mind not to reincarnate into this bad environment after all, and therefore sever the connection with the infant body of its own accord.

It has to be said very clearly: Apart from modern trauma surgery, Western medicine causes more deaths than it is actually intended to prevent.

[jazzythursday]

I’m about to go into another very long Marvel rant/dissertation here— mostly for myself— that I started writing soon after the Loki Series finale so please feel free to just scroll past this, because honestly I think I kinda overdid this one. It’s jaded and overly dramatic even for me. You have been warned:

The last 4 Marvel movies/shows I’ve watched left me feeling so completely depressed and unsatisfied and hopeless about the future of popular entertainment and story telling in general, and I know I’m not the only one. The fact that fans are going into these experiences hoping for a good story and character arcs that make sense with prior characterization, and leaving feeling… empty is a very clear sign that their approach leaves a lot to be desired.

Infinite War had some valid reasons to end the way it did, because by having our heroes fall so much harder than ever before, it built up the tension and high stakes for the next film. But what does that do when Endgame leaves us feeling even worse? I wanted them to triumph and finally come together to be better. I expected there would be losses of course but not enough to negate the wins. Instead the characters were subjugated for plot, characterization was watered down, and we lost all the original Avengers besides Thor and Bruce (who was no longer even Bruce). Peter loses Tony, Thor’s previous loses are permanent, and so many other things that, in spite of loving a lot of the movie, mean I haven’t been able to stop being sad about it for literal years. And the amount of thoughtless destruction that seems to be at an all time high when it comes to character’s lives and disregard for properly exploring emotions just doesn’t leave much to be expected at this point. Far From Home was good. It was. I liked it a lot. The acting was wonderful and there were some really interesting themes they grappled with but I still walked out of the theater feeling like there was still so much detachment surrounding a lot of the decisions, a little too much thoughtlessness (that, and the gaping hole of Tony). I’m not going to talk about WandaVistion but I’ll say that I was invested until the start of episode 8, and finished episode 9 feeling drained and tired and sad.

Then we get to Loki, a show which has plagued far too many of my thoughts since I started watching it, and has crushed my hopes for ever truly being happy with a Marvel project ever again. Loki is a character who’s ostensibly felt alienated and unseen for most of his life, and that’s before finding out about his parentage. His first movie ends with his suicide attempt and subsequent fall into the void. His second takes place a year into working under Thanos and ends with him being taken away in chains (yes I know he’s the villain he’s done bad things etc. etc. but for the purposes of this I’m only focusing on his pov). Then his third involves his solitary imprisonment, his mother’s death, and his near-death (considering the likelihood that he was actually stabbed), although it does end on a lighter note with his acquisition of the throne. Then we get his redemption and reconciliation with Thor in Ragnarok, immediately followed by the utter tragedy that is the first 10 minutes of Infinite War, which I don’t think I need to explain.

So what I suppose I’m saying here (very very inadequately) is that after all of that, I can’t believe the proper story to tell in his first chance at being a main protagonist was one where he’s constantly degraded and beat up, convicted of things he didn’t actually do, given no focus on backstory or implied/established motivations, and labeled as a clown and a narcissist! His powers are weakened, he displays almost no recognizable mannerisms or competence, he’s held to a higher moral standard than every other character, shown no respect, and ultimately loses EVEN MORE. We’ve seen him lose and lose and lose and lose again. We’ve seen him die THREE TIMES, we’ve seen him redeemed TWICE. So who in their right mind thinks that the most compelling story to tell after all of that was to see him LOSE AGAIN?! And not only lose, but lose without any real triumph, dignity, or acknowledgment beforehand. Death to the author aside, reading the utter nonsense the team behind it have spread, it’s so clear that it wasn’t made in good faith. Whether in ignorance or true maliciousness, they just don’t care. They didn’t research. They didn’t try and see things from his point of view. They didn’t truly sympathize with him as a person while writing. They didn’t understand. And they truly, truly wanted him to fail.

I’m tired of feeling hopeless at the end of everything, of leaving the theater or turning off the TV wondering why I even bothered, why I even care when I’m just being strung along with as little consideration as an audience as my favorite characters. I wanted to actively see him strive to be better, not just be told he could be. I wanted to see him triumph over his demons, not forget them. I wanted to see him be the “master of magic” that every other damn movie has alluded to, and to use his powers effectively. I wanted him to be powerful. I wanted him to, if not win, then win on a personal level at least. I wanted to see him take agency in his life and PROVE EVERYONE WRONG! And, though it’s now bafflingly controversial to say, I wanted it to be told by an experienced and competent writing and directing team that knew and understood his character and were passionate about telling his story.

I would ascribe to the notion of “don’t like it, don’t watch” if I could but I care to much to not be affected by this obvious decline in quality and awareness. And I’m a relatively recent fan. I haven’t been waiting for Loki to get his moment in the sun for 10 years. I’M NEW HERE, and my heart breaks so much for fans of the original movies who have lost their love of Marvel or Loki because of the way it’s been handled. No one should fall further than they can climb up from, and I’m tired of watching loss after loss and never getting the release of gaining enough of it back. What’s the point of caring about these characters if the writers won’t? Of investing in a connecting cinematic universe if it lacks continuity? Of looking for clues and foreshadowing when there isn’t any and the only twists are random and pander to shock value? The way these pieces/characters are being created and interpreted is reductive and incompetent, and for once I’d like to watch something that feels crafted, inspiring, and gratifying to see to the end.

If some people like the Loki show we got, I have no argument against that, because my own opinion is just as subjective as theirs. Though, I’d like to think that if what I want is for the show to be better out of love for the same character, then what they enjoyed from the show can coexist in that. If anyone’s actually read up to this point, I have to admit I’ve forgotten mine. Mostly I just wanted to express my frustrations over how unfeeling and stale most entertainment, specifically from Marvel as of late, has been.

TL;DR: I care too much, waaay too much, Marvel cares too little, Disney doesn’t care at all, and I don’t know how to accept that.

[maple-cloak]

So I was reading @chipper-smol shitlordAU and got inspired to make this Drabble

Basically it’s a 4K (wait Fuck that’s in no way right I thinks it’s more like 400 wtf was I thinking) word what-if where Ghost fights Radiance but she gets scared and runs away.

Also PK giving Ghost a hug.

Enjoy!

The Radiance was livid,

or rather, more livid then before.

First it was that Wyrm, who had created itself a new form and descended as a bug, a pale and pathetic bug. Stealing her followers away with his artificial light, Refracted light, a false light from a mere Wyrm who knew nothing of it.

But the bugs of what is now Hallownest followed that false light in lieu of her own, and she soon found herself forgotten, her entire being was relegated to the sol object that spoke of her Light. A single withering statue atop the nearby mountain peak.

She had waited, dwelling in the faint dreams the statue held, waiting for what her traitorous creations called their Pale King to finish her off.

But he never came.

Instead she was left there, fuming in her own rage, when she heard someone approaching. She briefly though the wretched Wyrm had finally come to end her being entirely, but was instead found by some simple miners, who had decided to climb to the peak of the crystal filled mountain, their helmets bearing a simple crest.

The Wyrms crest for his new kingdom.

And she saw an chance for revenge.

The simple memorabilia was enough for her to infect their minds, and in turn infect others who came in contact; she commanded them through their dreams to talk and spread word about her statue. To get more to learn of her, to get more to talk, and wonder, and before that Wyrm could learn how, her rage spread forth. With enough bugs to remember she had enough power to spread through his kingdom, expanding her influence throughout the populace, causing the kingdoms sharp decline, and she reveled in the kings panic and desperation.

Eventually the king had the idea to contain her in a vessel, using the void below the kingdom to make a being with no mind to think and be influenced, no will for her to break, and no voice to cry her name in suffering.

But she knew that the king had failed.

While its thoughts were not as loud as the common bug, there were still there, almost silent, but she could still hear the mantra it repeated, still feel the slightest of wills, and she knew that it would not hold.

“Do not think”

But that is a though

“Do not feel”

But the pain so great

“Do not speak”

But you must scream

“Do not hope…”

There is no hope for Hallownest

Eventually the cracks started to form. And she began to seep her influence out through them.

It didn’t matter if the kingdom had already fallen.

It didn’t matter that the Wyrm is no longer here.

She would destroy all evidence of the kingdom, leaving nothing behind for the few survivors to call home, and once that was done she would infect one of the many travelers that came through, and become a god in a new land.

But then came a second vessel

A vessel that had manage to escape the void and her servants who impeded their escape out into the open world without her notice, and when it came back she felt a tinge of fear. It had left the kingdom, and without the influence of the Wyrm that gave those around him minds it would become truly empty. And if it were to attempt so she would be imprisoned with no chance of escape.

Fortunately, there had been multiple influences, not just from a single ignorant king failing to notice the mind it had given, but from a multitude of bugs, instilling their own ideas onto to the second vessel. Gifting it a mind and a will, and she saw it as no threat.

But then it encountered one of her formal followers -Considered a traitor even by the other moths of her tribe, and she gave the vessel the Dream Nail. The moment she saw this she began sealing the mind of her container, preventing the other vessel from attacking her directly with the weakened talisman. The “Seer” however instructed the vessel to restore the talisman, reinvigorating the nail with essence by the time she had taken back the life she gave, the Nail had fully awoken

To worsen matters, the vessel had gotten the former Wyrms charm, and used it to unite the void under its ever growing will. And when it arrived at the temple it unsealed The Radiance prepared to use its container, missing a limb and having a cracked mask from her efforts to hastily take control, to kill the smaller vessel, a ghost of the kings attempts to contain her, given form with the goal of ending her life like its parent so many years ago.

But as the Kings Ghost and the Broken Vessel fought, the Ghost hesitated. It had seen its siblings pain and saw as it injured itself in order to give it a better chance of victory, of finally ending her.

And it ran.

It couldn’t handle its siblings pain and The Radiance laughed as the Ghost ran away, allowing her to reign unopposed.

But the Ghost was tenacious, and found a way to her without injuring its sibling.

The Godseekers, they came in search of a new God after theirs abandoned them; a role she intend to fill. But the Ghost had used their mind to get to her, fighting their way through the ‘Gods’ of Hallownest, many of whom she had control over, and eventually, they arrived at the peak, at her peak.

She though she would win, in a realm where she was no longer held back by the myriad of infected bugs or the broken vessel, but that Ghost was tenacious. And each ensuing fight it grew closer to victory, closer to consuming her within the void.

And it did, it had given the void focus, and it had consuming her.

But despite this, despite struggling within its clutches, her light drowning within its dark abyss. She found herself back in Hallownest, the people still panicked over the ‘disease’ that spread, the king struggling with his ‘solution’.

She has gleefully taken the second chance at ruining his kingdom, being more thorough then before, but as she infected a chef in order to ruin the kings meals (rather petty, but the further unrest that it would give the king was absolutely delightful) she found it slain by the very Ghost that slew her. She almost didn’t recognize it since it had molted, but it’s movement made it undeniable.

It too had been sent back, and The Radiance was livid.

Or rather, more livid then before

But not only that, she found herself trembling, not just with rage, but with fear. The being no longer had the same control over the void, but it still had the same skill that enabled it to use it at her most vulnerable, it was still the same being that killed Absolute Radiance.

Despite seemingly despising the very same Wyrm, making their life all the more frustrating, it refused to let her have her revenge. And it sought to do what it did before again, this time before she could end the kingdom.

And she was scarred.

———————————————————

The Feral Vessel and the Pale King had gotten into an argument.

Now this wasn’t particularly surprising, the two had always butted heads, but this argument was very heated. The vessel, who seemed to named itself Ghost, had been getting on the Wyrm’s case about its treatment of the Pure Vessel, while the Wyrm got angry at Ghost for instilling ideas into it, and that it they shouldn’t interact it as they have been.

The Pale King now sat in his room, it had been almost a week since the feral vessel Ghost had walked off at the end of their argument, and they had yet to be seen since. He stared at his hand lost in though, staring at the cracked void that stained it, thinking over the argument and going over scenarios of what could’ve been.

He hated to admit it, but he cared for the little Ghost. While it had caused plenty of trouble and headaches, deep down he knew he deserved it. For all the hundreds of thousands of siblings down dead in the void below, he felt that Ghost was his punishment. Humiliating and insulting him for his transgressions, the Wyrm knew he deserved it all.

And behind the mask of child-like pranks and dislike for him, he and his Root had long since suspected that they somehow knew more then even his foresight could account for. The familiarity with the White Palace, despite never once being there. How they traveled accros Hallownest with ease, knowing where hidden charms lay and even pale ore across the kingdom. Even with the few fights they have had, he heard they even wield a nail with such familiarity and ease, even ending a bout with the Pale Vessel in a draw despite receiving no training unlike the latter.

And above all, how they still care for his Root, and how she cares for them. How she enjoys mentoring them (and occasionally aiding in embarrassing the Wyrm but it’s hard to be mad when your wife is practically telling them to do it). Then there’s the excitement they show when sharing the language of hands they created with their mother, a language without words but with expression and symbols. It was something he actually wanted to praise them for, and something he was exited to learn as well.

The Wyrm frowned as these thoughts passed, bringing him back to the argument. Ghost was always insistent on the fact that the Pure Vessel wasn’t… pure. Hollow. Empty…

Unable to properly contain the Radiance.

And the worst part was that he knew they were right. He didn’t want to admit it, but Ghost was always right, even before they interfered, the vessel was never pure. The King always claimed that he knew what to do, how to solve the problem and that the Pure Vessel - Hollow, Ghost had taken to calling it (no doubt because his young sister, Hornet, calling it that) was the only, and the right answer.

He had practically abandoned his foresight by now, the only path he could see since tossing all those eggs into the void was one were his beloved kingdom fell, his beloved subjects who he cared so much for dead at the hands of a spiteful light, their burning corpses wandering his kingdoms husk. All that he worked for, and all that he is, was doomed.

The Pale King was snapped away from with thoughts with a knock as his door, and he quickly regained composer, if anything he could give his subjects some hope for their future. Calmly (or at least appearing so) he walked to the door and opened it.

“What is it?” He asked the guard, they were panting, having run as quickly to fetch the King

“T-the… “ the guard cleared his through. “There’s a messenger here my lord, form the Archives, says it’s urgent”

The Wyrm steeled himself, news from the Archives ment news of the infection. He dismissed the guard and swiftly made his way to the entrance hall, greeting the messenger, whom he recognized to be Monomon’s assistant.

“What is it Quirrel? Has Monomon learned something?” He inquired, startling the bug as he shot up straight.

“Y-yes your majesty it’s about the infection…”

Quirrel paused briefly for a breathand the Pale King noticed the faintest to hope in his voice

“The infection, it’s… it’s regressed”

The news had startled him, regressed? The Ra- the Old Light was the cause of the infection, it’s no ordinary disease she invade their mind and takes over . For the infection to regress would mean…

“Prepare me a stag for the Queens Station.” He ordered a nearby servent, who had already been anticipating such a command and he made his way to the Archives in the Fog Canyon.

He made his way swiftly through the caves, Quirrel aiding in avoiding the various Ooma’s that lived there.

“Monomon what do you mean the Infection has regressed?” He asked, walking straight into the main office.

“Well you majesty it’s exactly that, previously infected bugs have either lessening symptoms, regaining control over themselves, or simply becoming uninfected entirely!” She responded, expecting the king not to barge in in such a manner.

“But that would mean…”

“…somethings happened to the Old Light”

They both paused, a silence filled the room as they wondered what could’ve happened. As the Wyrm ran a hand up its face a though crossed his mind. Ghost, they always knew more then they should, familiar with things they have had no way to experience before. Could they have…?

“Keep looking into it, I’ll see if I can figure anything else”

“Be careful my lord” Monomon responded as they left the archives.

A single thought ran through his head, ‘Where was that Feral Vessel? Where is Ghost?”. It had been a few days yes, but what if they were preparing for something, going from one corner of Hallownest to the next to get what they needed for… whatever it was. He made his way to the resting grounds, where Ghost would regularly search for… something, but he found no evidence of them being there. We’re else would the feral vessel have gone? He stood in a empty plot, a place where he planned to build a monument for the dreamers.

Deepnest? No, hornet would not have wondered where they went when she came to visit. The Queens Gardens? No, his dear Root would’ve found them easily in her domain. So where could they be? He though it over, could there be anyone who would know of their whereabouts?

He paused. Grimm. Ghost had shown an unusual affection for the Troupe Master, and… he froze in a panic. When Ghost had first met Grimm his foresight had shown him the infection being killed form the inside.

He immediately took off, flying over to where the Troupes tent resided. No! They couldn’t have? Panic filled the Pale King, how could he not realize? Ghost was going to enter Radience’s realm with Grimms aid! They were, no they ARE fighting the Radiance!!!

The Pale King stumbled as he landed in front of the tent running inside.

“Grimm! Grimm!” He barely hid his concern for his child skidding to a halt in the middle of the show ring.

“Grimm!” He called out once more as the Troupe Master appeared with his usual (but still well performed) burst of flame.

“With what do we-“

“Not now Grimm, where is my child!” He interrupted the Nightmare Vessel, earning a slight frown that quickly turned into a sly smile.

“Your child hmmm~ and here I though that particular vessel was an annoyance you would love to be rid of.” He sneered, while normally the King would retort to such a comment, he was too preoccupied with the well-being of his little Ghost.

“Grimm, please” he pleaded out of breath. “Is… are… are they alright?”

Grimm paused, staring blankly at the Pale Wyrm. “I’m afraid I can’t be certain of their fate.” He stated blankly.

“Did they…?”

“Yes” Grimm nodded, not even needing the hear the question proper.

“They entered the realm of dreams to fight The Radiance, a trip that’s - unfortunately, one-way.”

The Pale Wyrm fell to his knees, tears that were once held right below his eyes végane to flow. Grimm for one was somewhat uncomfortable, not so much for having someone break down in front of them, no it was who had fallen before them with tears flowing down their face. They had never imagined the Wyrm to do such a thing, they never seemed the type. The type to adamantly refusing to untill alone or with someone they are close to, and even then resisting the urge to cry.

“I did make sure they knew what they were getting into.” Grimm comforted attempting to lift his spirits. “They even insisted we dance to show they were able, and might I add, they put up quite the performance.”

“They we-are quite stubborn.” The Wyrm said, standing up and dusting himself off, hoping that at the very least, they are still alive.

“There you go! Much more fitting for a king eh?” Grimm encouraged as the King wiped his eyes and composed himself. “Yes, I apologies, that was rath-” he stopped mid-sentence in shock, and Grimm followed his eyes and saw why. There was the vessel, Ghost, coming from Grimm’s quarters, limping.

——————————————————————

“Your certain of this?” Grimm inquired for like, the 15th time. Ghost was getting rather annoyed at the question and all it’s variants

‘Yes, I know what I’m doing.’ They signed again. They had already gotten all the charms and weapons they needed. A Mothwing Cloak which they manage to fuse with some of their void, (very painful process and it wasn’t nearly as effective as it would be if they had access to the pit below the palace.) some Monarch Wings they stole found (thankfully the Kingsmold were too preoccupied with Mawlek to notice) and a variety of spells from various Snail Shaman throughout Hallownest, (none of which were killed and/or dead, which is always good) and of course their Pure Root Nail (though they would’ve gladly stolen one from Sly if they needed one)

With those and the charms they took collected between getting everything else, they were more then ready. Grimm let out a sigh, “Very well then, do give us a superb performance hmm?” He said as he raised a hand, shooting out a light from his palm similar to the one of the Dream Nail Ghost was familiar with, only Grimms was a crimson red instead of a bright white.

As Grimm swung his hand down is a (stylish) arc, Ghost found himself engulfed in a red light, fading to a more familiar white before fading away entirely. Ghost looked around a platform similar in size in shape to the one in the Pantheon, though the material and style was different, a grey that wasn’t dark, but not light either, but the area surrounding it was, a endless sea of golden clouds.

Ghost didn’t dwell on these thoughts as they climbed up the few floating platforms, and faced the sun that bathed the picturesque scenery, knowing full well that this was no place of beauty

Ghost drew their Pure Root, their desire to protect Hallownest - and more specifically, their sibling Hollow - giving the Root its form as a blade, as sharp as a Pure Nail and just as deadly - and they faced the sun as she, The Radiance responded to their challenge with her anger.

The small platforms Ghost was standing on vanished, he fell a short ways to the larger platform he ‘awoke’ on, and didn’t hesitate to start attacking the spiteful god. Starting off with what could be mistaken for a shout, a scream towards the sky as their soul and void manifested as an upward outburst of screaming heads, The Radiance cried with rage

Blades flow form the sides, which ghost easily dashed between, not wanting to use their Shade Cloaks invulnerability too soon, as they slashed upwards towards the giant moth. They had both fought before, and Ghost had long since memorized how to evade each attack. Radiance shot out circles of swords, but Ghost backed off and jumped. aligning themself properly they shot out a spell they didn’t have when they fought before, a stream of bright daggers shot out from their hand, only a few hitting their mark before The Radiance teleported away.

As Ghost landed they quickly dashed to the side and blades shot out form the ground, covering over a third of the platform, and a beam of light from above threatened them. Using their Shade Cloak they easily fazed through the beam, and slashed at the sun-moth with a nail art before a soul-charged stomp on the ground, void and soul rising around Ghost protectively while striking at the gif above.

The fight had continued for a long time, Ghost evading or countering all of Radiance’s attacks, while the god itself became more and more desperate, as fewer and fewer attacks hit (not that many hit to begin with) as Ghost got into their rhythm. Before long, it took off higher and Ghost pursued, dodging incoming searing rays of light. But before Ghost could do more damage to end the fearful god something they never expected happened.

They woke up, in Grimm’s room, in the Troupes tent. They looked around, did they do it? They dropped off the ledge they were on and winced, almost crumpled from the pain. Did the Radiance hit them with one last-ditch blast? They slowly lowered themselves to the floor and looked down the hall down the hall to the main performance area of the tent. We’re they still in the dream realm? No, they would’ve seen the Nightmare Hearts leathery viens in the hall, and there’s no Nightmare essence floating around. So that means the Radiance has ejected them from the dream.

The Radiance fled, huh. Ghost had never considered it but they suppose it does make sense, without the dream nail they couldn’t return and hunt it down, and they had no void to restrain it. Ghost found that annoying, all that effort of collect charms and spells and other useful items and the stupid thing leaves. Coward.

With a huff the Vessel stands up, might as well let Grimm know their okay at least, and make there way down the vein-less hall. They tried to heal their injuries with Soul but found they had none, used at every opportunity during the fight with the flying puff-ball.

As they made their way down the hall they heard two voices talking, one was clearly Grimm but they found trouble identifying the other. The voice was male and they seemed distraught, but Ghost couldn’t pin a name, who did they no would be upset? Form what they could tell Grimm told them about what they did, but they didn’t know anyone who would be this upset about it.

But they didn’t have to imagine who when they saw who it was.

And they never would’ve imagined it was their father, the Pale King, who ran up and hugged them the moment he saw them.

And they never expect him to be crying.

The Pale King pulled away enough to get a proper look at the vessel, fresh tears streaming down his face and he held one hand against Ghost’s cheek, not only in shock, but in relief.

“How” he asked, barely a whisper. Ghost wasn’t sure how to respond, and was at a lost for signs at their fathers reaction

Thankfully Grimm was still Grimm and they knew Grimm

“Bra-vo darling!” He exclaimed clapping, “I have to say I did not expect this! How did you escape?”

This was enough to snap ghost back to his surroundings and found a pretty simple way to explain it.

‘Butt head ran away’ they signed

‘Don’t know worse insults’

“She… ran?”

Ghost paused for a moment, staring at their father, then made a gesture like they were throwing something to the side,

‘Ejected me’

As Ghost completed the motion they stumbled to the side, almost falling over until the Pale King caught them

Grimm, for his part, picked a terrible time to laugh openly, much to Ghosts irritation, thinking it was at them.

“Your telling me, your got the Radiance who has been terrorizing this kingdom for years to run in fear” Grim said continuing to laugh, “my goodness you are full of surprises!”

The Pale King could only stare in shock, she had been repelled? Not dead, but still, he didn’t have to consult his foresight to tell that his child he held up had bought him years maybe even a century. For them to have chased off radiance, the skill and strength they must posses…

‘Should be dead’ They signed grumpily, clearly upset at themselves but their father was having none of it

“Don’t understate your accomplishments! For you to have fought Radiance, to have beaten her to the point where she runs away? Maybe she isn’t gone for good but she will not be coming back for decades at the least! You… you’re…” he stammered, pulling the void-born child in for another hug “I… I’m sorry, for the… the atrocity la I’ve done, for my treatment of you, for… for my treatment of your… your sibling.” The Wyrm pulled away looking Ghost directly in their eyes “I was wrong, I’m sorry”

Ghost could only stand shocked at their fathers beaming praise, for their quirky frankly, unnatural behavior… and that last thing, their sibling. There was so much to be done, but things seemed so much… brighter, so much better. Hollow could finally be themself be happy. Ghost was at a lost for words.

‘We… talk later?’ They offered both too overwhelmed and Ghost, too tired, to make proper plans.

“I- yes, yes of course, of course” the father readjusted themself and his son to more effectively carry.

As they made they way out the King paused “Ah! And Grimm” he turned, facing the Troupe Master. “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.”

Grimm, who had fallen to the background to allow the two some space perked up and gave an elegant bow to the Pale being.

“Think nothing of it. I had simply set the stage and you two, had been excellent performers!”

The Wyrm nodded his head, while Ghost used its free arm to wave, and the two made their way back home.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Taken Care Of (Derek x Reader)

A/N: I love a sick fic. It’s good, low-stakes hurt/comfort style fluff. The title was originally “Is it really love if he’s never seen you shoot snot rockets?” but since there was no actual said rockets, it seemed misleading. 

Apparently, also my writing is prophetic because I’m finishing this under feverish duress of some sort of cold (its 81 degrees, I’m wearing a hoodie, and I'm freezing. This is bullshit.)

Word Count: 2437

Rating: G - descriptions of illness (mostly pain, dizziness), crying and self-deprecation

For what will soon become obvious reasons, this is set pre-movie.

“Derek? What are you doing here?” you asked, crossing the school lobby quickly to greet him, your friends trailing behind a little slowly.

“Hey Baby Girl,” he said with a grin. “You've been so busy, I feel like I don't ever see you. I missed you,” he gave you that pout he was frustratingly good at, the one that made you melt like butter no matter what else was going on, as he laced his fingers between yours.

“So you decided to visit me at school?” As glad as you were to see him, part of you wished he hadn’t just shown up. This hadn’t been how you planned for him to be added to this part of your life, and it wasn’t exactly good timing. 

“I thought we could get lunch? I didn't know you'd be hangin out with your friends. Don't let me interrupt.”

His words nudged you, and you hastily made introductions. 

“Oh, so you're the mysterious Derek. I always knew Y/N had good taste,” Alli hummed, looking over him with a flirtatious hunger.

You felt your stomach clench at the look she gave him. It wasn’t quite jealousy, trusting him far too much for concern to ever cross your mind, but something like fear settled over you. Or maybe it was just the nausea you’d felt all week, you tried to tell yourself. Derek seemed to sense the tension you held in every part of your body, and gave your hand an affirming squeeze.

“I don't know about mysterious,” he chuckled, “Y/N reads me like an open book.”

Jen laughed. “Perfect answer,” she slung an arm over your shoulder with a grin. “I like him. Definitely approve.”

“Ladies,” Alexi said, interrupting on their way past. “As curious as we all are to meet and drool over the boy Y/N’s been keeping to herself, let her have him to herself.” 

They hooked their arms through the other two’s elbows who planted their feet and refused to be dragged away. You couldn’t help but laugh at your friends' antics, as tired and slightly embarrassed as you were. Derek was grinning at them, still holding your hand and keeping you tucked against him. 

“Wait wait,” Jen protested. “Y/N. You’re taking him to Aida’s right? You have to.” 

“I don’t know…” the smirk on Alli’s face continued to roil your stomach. “I’d just take him home.” 

“What’s Aida’s?” Derek asked, hiding his face in your hair, surprising you that he was actually embarrassed by your friends’ comments.

“Only the best food ever,” Alexi answered with a smile. “Y/N can tell you all about it on the way. Just do that cute thing and share a milkshake with two straws, or I’ll hunt you. Byyyye.” 

Giving up on pulling the others, they decided to push you two out the doors instead. Rather than dealing with more of their nonsense, you let yourselves leave, and stopped just out of range. 

“Aida’s is a place around the corner. Cheap. Definitely knows how to cater to the student crowd. Good food, pretty amazing milkshakes. And coffee has unlimited free refills in a two hour window.”

“Sounds great. I wanted to take you to lunch. Do you want to?”

“It’s no big deal,” you shrugged. “I go there all the time. We should do something special, since you came all this way.” 

“Y/N. You know I don’t care about that. I’m happy anywhere you decide. Besides,” he leaned closer to purr in your ear, words like honey sending a shiver down your spine, “I want to know all your places.”

“You’re terrible. Maybe another time. It’s a longer walk but...I’m feeling ramen?”

“Lead the way.”

You felt your steps dragging as you and Derek walked, trying your best to hide it from your boyfriend. Your lungs burned despite the walk normally being well within manageable, and several times you stumbled, doing your best to stay upright in the wake of a wave of exhaustion.

“I know you wanted to get lunch,” you said suddenly, pausing, “but can't we just get to-go and go back to my place? I’m pretty tired, and I really don't…I was just hoping for a nap before work tonight.”

He caught your hesitation and frowned. “Baby, what's wrong?”

“Nothing. I just...haven't been feeling myself for a couple of days. It's been a hard semester, that's all. The walk’s making it hit me a little.”

Derek stopped, turning to face you, eyes tracing over your face. No doubt he was taking in the deep, almost bruise-colored bags under your eyes that were only sort of hidden by your makeup. Or maybe it was the glossy sheen behind them. Once he had spotted one, the other signs started to jump at him: your fever-flushed cheeks and discolored skin, your dry, cracked lips, the slump of your shoulders, even your unusually loose and ill-fitted clothing. 

You watched his jaw working as he struggled to contain whatever thought was on the tip of his tongue.

“Go ahead and say it,” you said with a sigh, throat burning with the exaggerated airflow.

“Say what?”

“Whatever you’re holding back.”

“Baby girl, you look awful,” his tone was flat and his face apologetic. 

You tried to laugh, but it came out in more of a wet cough that made you wince, partially from the feeling, but mostly from the look he now wore.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

“I’m not. It’s just a little cold,” you protested, the argument weakened by another coughing fit, this one hitting harder and leaving you wheezing. The fit, or the way you swayed, dizzy and unsteady as the blood rushed back out of your head when it was over, seemed to be the last straw.

“That’s it,” he said, tone serious and sharp. “We’re going to my mom’s and she and I are gonna take care of you.”

“But--”

“Nope. You lost your protest privileges.” He was already steering you back in the opposite direction of where you were headed. “You can call Nino and tell him you won’t be in while I drive.”

“I don’t want to rob you of lunch,” you tried to fight anyway, voice weak and throat raw.

“I’ll eat somethin at home. I can’t believe you’re still tryin to...” he shook his head, muttering fondly about stubborn Irish pains in the ass. 

~

After begrudgingly making the call to Nino, who sounded shocked but completely forgiving, you decided on one last ditch effort to escape admitting to and dealing with being sick. 

‘Help I’m being held hostage!’ you texted Sean. 

His response came only a moment later. ‘What??????!’ 

‘Your stupid bestfriend is making me admit I’m sick and keeping me from going to work.’

‘He’ A second text came through a moment later. ‘Good.’

‘WHAT? You’re my cousin, you’re supposed to be on my side. Rescue me. Before he sics his mother on me.’

There was a long pause, more than you thought Sean should need to respond. When the message finally came through, you couldn’t help glaring at the screen.

‘I’d rather fight an actual bear than Ma Sandoval.’

‘Ah. So you’re in on it. I see how it is. Your betrayal will not be forgotten.’

‘Feel better soon.’ He added a smile to the end, and you could practically see it as his signature smirk.

‘I hate you.’ 

You sighed, shoving your phone back in your pocket and slumped down in the seat. You closed your eyes, hoping that it would combat the movement of the car and the effect it was having on your headache. You were frustrated at Derek for making you admit something was wrong (even though you knew really that he was right to) and at the fact that it seemed like the minute you admitted it, the symptoms seemed to get immediately worse. 

The next thing you knew, you were stirred from a light doze by a change in movement. Instead of the steady, rocking vibration of the car and the smooth, cool feeling of the glass under your cheek, you were pressed close against something warm and solid, bobbing in a more natural, if uneven, rhythm. Your mind was sluggish but after a moment, and a soft, familiar chuckle as you buried your face into him to escape the sun in your eyes, you realized that it was because Derek was carrying you, bridal-style across the lawn and into his house. 

You suppressed an involuntary whine and the urge to cling to him as he settled you down in his bed. Heavy blankets that smelled like him were pulled up around your shoulders, the sudden warmth making you realize how cold you’d been.

“Not sick my ass,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “Get some sleep baby girl.” 

The door clicked quietly behind him and you let the comfortable darkness pull you back under.

~

Some unknown time later, there was a knock that pulled you out of strange, feverish dreams and you croaked something that you hoped sounded like come in, squinting against the light that poured through behind the person.

“Y/N, you should wake up for a little while,” Derek’s mother said, flicking on a bedside lamp. “I made you soup.” 

You pushed yourself up into a seated position and smiled gratefully at her. “Thank you Mrs. Sandoval.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, you are dating my son, you at least call me Ma. Just like everyone else.”

“Sorry,” you looked down bashfully, the word tasting foreign in your mouth. “Ma.” 

“Why are you not taking care of yourself?” she tutted as she set the bowl down and sat on the edge of the bed. “You are so busy trying to be able to be a fancy lawyer and change the world but you can’t do that if you drop dead. And of a little cold?” 

“I--”

“And you made Derek worry.” She placed a wrist against your forehead to check your temperature. “He’s going to fret over you forever, now. It’s how he shows his love. I hurt my back a few years ago, and still he is ‘Mami you shouldn’t reach so high, Mami let me get that for you, Mami don’t carry so many heavy groceries.’ Imagine when you have children. They won’t be able to scrape a knee. If your doctor doesn’t put you on bed rest, he will.”

Her words made you choke on the food you had just sipped into your mouth, sending you into a coughing fit that left you short of breath.

“See, you wouldn’t be doing that if you said you were sick to begin with.”

“I just...thought if I took some cold medicine, it would go away on its own. I’ve been so busy. And I didn’t...want anyone to worry, or think anyone would care?” you admitted sheepishly, looking down at the soup in your lap and the blanket over your legs and trying not to think too hard about what you were telling her.

“Mija, look at me,” she said firmly but kindly. When you didn’t follow her instruction, she used a hand to tilt your head up. “You have family now. You don’t have to do everything alone. Now eat  your soup.”

The sentiment, and the matter-of-fact way she delivered it, broke down a dam inside you, and suddenly you were crying, and she was hugging you, rubbing small circles on your back with one hand while the other cradled your head against her. You wanted to attribute your overwhelmed feelings to being sick, but in your heart you knew: it was a kind of acceptance and love that you had never expected, especially from someone who didn’t even have to like you. 

After sitting like that for several long minutes, letting you sob and offering you comfort, she shifted back to nurse-mode. 

“You need more fluids, not letting them all out through your eyes. Eat your soup, and I’ll go make you tea,” she said, nudging you back to rest against the headboard and standing. 

You laughed wetly and tried again to thank her, only to have it waved away.

~

“How is she?” Derek asked, almost as soon as he walked through the door a few hours later.

His mother laughed, shaking her head wryly. “She will survive. Just needs to rest for a few days. It’s a cold.”

“That’s like asking the tide to take a few days off,” he chuckled, until his mother fixed him with a glare. 

“Maybe if you told her the truth about how you felt, and she didn’t feel like she was on her own trying to be everything, she would.”

“Ma that’s not--”

“Derek Michael Sandoval, do not argue with me,” she crossed her arms over her chest. “You have been telling me for weeks now how much you love this girl, and it is obvious to a blind saint. Yet she is sick and doesn’t tell anyone because she thinks it would be a burden no one would want. Now what would give her that idea?”

Derek felt his stomach twist guiltily. It was true that he hadn’t told you he loved you, even though he was completely certain he did. But he thought it was for your benefit, to not scare you off by pushing too hard. He had never considered that it might be making things worse. He opened his mouth, looking for an answer to give his mother and found that he couldn’t get any words out. Instead, he just looked at her helplessly. 

She rolled her eyes. “You are both so stupid.”

~

You were fast asleep when he slipped through the door, and as he got ready for bed as quietly as possible, he kept finding himself stopping to look down at you. You were burrowed deep in the blankets, wrapped in one of his hoodies in addition as the fever made you shiver. You looked so small and fragile and vulnerable there in his bed, and his chest ached with a need to protect you, a desire for taking care of you and loving to be his entire purpose in life for the rest of his life and it nearly knocked him on his ass. 

As he slid under the covers beside you, you seemed to cuddle closer instinctively, and he wrapped his arms around you.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “And I know you can’t hear me right now, but baby girl, I promise, I’m gonna make sure you know, soon.”

[feminist-propaganda]

Single Mothers Will Probably Cry During Every Episode Of Queen’s Gambit - Episode 3

In the first two episodes of Queen’s Gambit, Beth first learns to look for a field that she can become an expert in and later understands the powers of dissociation. What Beth doesn’t share with us in these episodes, probably because she isn’t connecting to that part of herself, is what her life was like before the car crash.

The only memory we know about, which precedes the orphanage era, is the traumatic memory of the car crash, and the couple of seconds leading up to it. Because we don’t see anything prior to the car crash; our opinion of Alice (Beth’s mother)  is based off of her actions that day. We know she voluntarily crashed the car (she admits this when she tells Beth to “Close her eyes”). We don’t really know what Beth’s opinion of her mother is. 

Lesson 3: Your Biggest Enemy Is Yourself

In Episode 3 however, we are invited into an earlier childhood memory of Beth. She sits with her mother, by the lake. She reaches out to touch her mother’s hand. Her mother carresses her cheek. Her mother gets up, takes off her clothes and jumps into the lake. Beth’s face looks worried as she watches her mother disapear into the water. Beth cries out for her. Her mother finally emerges on the deck, far way, and waves. Then, Alice swims back to the shore and hugs Beth. The young girl looks happy. This seems to be a strange memory. It starts with a peaceful moment by the lake, then her mother does something that scares Beth, then it ends well and we are relieved that Beth feels relieved.

The episode is called “Doubled Pawns”, which refers to a position in Chess when two pawns are placed behind one other on the same file (column). The position is a weakness because the pawns cannot defend each other, and therefore cannot attack.

The episode starts in Cincinatti where Beth and Alma arrive to play a tournament. They enter a nice hotel room, in a luxurious venue. The room has  twin beds. Alma sits on her bed and says in a contained voice “I asked for a pleasant room and I believe they gave me one”. Beth then jumps on her bed and giggles.

All through the episode we see references to a doubled self, an other that is in fact a version of us. 

Let’s analyse this scene. We see that Alma adopts this calm, collected voice when really there is a part of her that wants to jump on the bed. Beth is the opposite: she can’t wait to jump on the bed, but she needs some sort of permission, a green light from Alma before she can do it. They both feel pleased to be a in a pleasant room, but like the two sides of a same coin, they express it differently. And like two entangled photons, their projections are related. If one is contained, the other is extroverted.

This duality, appears many more times during the episode. 

Indeed, later in the hotel lobby of the Las Vegas venue, Beth encounters Townes, a chess player she met a the State championship in Lexington. They both seemed extremely pleased to meet again. Townes makes a comment about how Beth has grown up. He informs her he is covering the event for a newspaper. Then invites her to his hotel room to take pictures of her. Beth seems very comfortable with him. She sits next to the bed and looks at the Board. Townes takes pictures. Right when he is about to get close to her, maybe even intimate, a man barges into the hotel room.

This man has some tight swimming pants on, an open shirt, a shaved chest. We understand, that this man is Townes’s lover. That they share this hotel room. That they came together to this place. The mood is a bit ruined. Beth is upset, she has feeling for Townes and he isn’t available.

This man is Towne’s “evil twin”, an other him, a “doubled pawn”. Which he forgets to watch out for, and which has become a weakness for him, rather than a position of strength. Townes doesn’t openly propose a three way to Beth, or a menage a trois. That would’ve been an aggressive, probably succesful approach. Instead he invites her in, and does not mention his other lover. The other lover appears at the worst moment and weakens Townes’s position rather than strengthens it.

Finally, in this episode Beth meets her match, Benny. He is a charismatic Chess Player. What is special about him is the same thing that makes Beth special. He does not look like a typical Chess Player. By this I mean that he doesn’t look socially awkward, he isn’t introverted, he doesn’t wear glasses. He is the U.S. champion. She first meets him in Cincinatti where he tells her it isn’t interesting for him to play Opens, “It can only hurt him”. 

His character seems to reveal to Beth that there is another world beyond these American tournaments. He is an international player, he gets invited to Europe. But also, he is her match in other ways. He is passionate about Chess, yes. But he talks about it in a fascinating manner. His style is very unique. He wears all black leather outfits and a black cowboy hat. He carries a knife strapped around his leg. He stands out, just like Beth stands out in the Chess World.

Beth has to play Benny to win the US Championship in Las Vegas. She loses.

After the match, we listen to Beth tell her version to Alma. Even though Alma understands practically nothing of the game, she listens attentively and asks questions. She is there for Beth. And at the end of the episode, Beth takes her hand in the car.

Beth tells Alma that what Benny did was “Something she did to others”. What she means by this is that he played her, made her believe that her strategy was working, that he wasn’t seeing her coming, when in fact he had it all mapped out. And he brutally defeated her.

When you are a single mother, you are terrified of dying. Not so much because you’re living an extremely fulfilling life that you don’t want to let go of. Not because you are afraid of the abyss. You are afraid of dying because you are afraid of what will happen to your children if you die.

To manage this risk, single mothers could meet with lawyers and make plans for what would happen to them if they were to die. But we know that single mothers are often times isolated and cast away by their families. So maybe imagining a plan is alreayd a problem for them.

Because single motherhood is felt to be a negative situation, most single mothers isolate themselves. They are riddled with shame and prefer to keep to themselves to not look at the disapointment or pity in the eyes of their friends and families.

They also might have conflicts with their families or their children’s father’s families which may prevent establishing a plan in the event of their death.

Finally, single mothers are most often times over worked. They often work full time to support their families, and when they are not working out of the house, they are doing housework in the home which we all know is an unending, tedious, monotonous, repetitive, mind numbing task.

This leaves little space for planning and strategizing. And in the event of an accident, some of these mothers might not have had time to make a plan.

If they did some research, like I just did, they might see that they really ought to make a solid plan for the aftermath of their deaths.

Indeed, a Swedish study from 2000 found that:

"We saw that [single] mothers demonstrated a nearly 70% higher risk of premature death than coupled mothers," study author Måns Rosén, PhD, tells WebMD.

The article continues:

“According to the findings, which were published in the journal TheLancet, the single mothers had twice the risk of suicide of mothers with partners, three times the risk of violent death, and two-and-one-half times the risk of alcohol-related death.”

The anxiety that Beth felt at the lake is what all children of single mothers feel when they watch their mothers engage in risky behavior. In Beth’s young mind, swimming in the lake is risky behavior, perhaps because she does not know how to swim. Maybe this particular lake is dangerous, I am not sure. But the emotion she feels is real regardless.

She knows that she is just a child, that she cannot swim. What will she do if her mother drowns? Watch her? Who will she call for help? There doesn’t seem to be anyone around them. 

The name of the episode is Doubled Pawns, and this matters to my argument. Indeed, the Doubled Pawn position as I mentionned above is a weakness because the pawns are unable to protect themselves.

They are the same piece on the chess board, and they can move in the same way. They have the same power to attack, to defend and the same weaknesses. To be efficient they need to be on different fields, which are the columns on the Chess Board.

The same goes for single mothers. They need to watch out for danger; but the nature of the danger is the same essence as what they’re trying to protect themselves from. In other words, their biggest enemy is themselves.

Kanye West, who has probably been the most influential rapper and producer of the 2010s, was raised by a single mother, a woman named Donda, mostly in the suburbs of Chicago. It is no secret that Donda’s death in 2007 profoundly changed Kanye as well as his music. He wrote the album 808s and Heartbreak in the aftermath of her death. Donda died because of a plastic surgery procedure that didn’t go well. 

Adams gave Donda West liposuction, a tummy tuck and a breast reduction in November 2007, but she died the following day, after reporting pain and tightness in her chest. A coroner found “no evidence of a surgical or anaesthetic misadventure,” and said “the final manner of death could not be determined. Multiple post-operative factors could have played a role in the death. The exact contribution of each factor could not be determined.”

Donda’s law, which was passed in 2009, “targets the aggressive marketing of services that make the risks “seem almost nonexistent,””.

On the track “Amazing” from 808s & Heartbreak, Kanye sings “I’m the only thing I’m afraid of”, which seems to summarize the learnings of Episode 3.

The article above explains to us that the biggest threat to single mothers is suicide, violent death and alcohol related deaths.

As Alice swims in the lake, she is indeed adopting reckless behavior. She forgets she is a single mother, and there is no one around to help her if she drowns. Yes, she comes out alive, and hugs Beth. But in case of an accident; she could’ve died.

Benny is Beth’s doubled pawn, her evil twin, so to speak. He beats her at her own game. And in this Episode, Beth learns from her mother that she needs to watch out for herself, from herself.

[sustraiii]

TEAM ZRCN ARC 3 - CHAPTER 9

You’re a mean one Miss Rossi.

Many thanks to @jaguar-knight who let me reference his character again in this chapter!

Slight warning towards the end as this chapter gets a little dark,

WISTERIA

For better or worse, Calantha Rossi had left the group. Wisteria couldn’t say she was surprised, she always expected the girl would wind up leaving them some day, either by her own volition or by Belleza’s hand. She was glad it was not the latter. Wisteria had little love for the Rossi’s and their allies, but Calantha was a sweet girl, and she had a certain naivety about her that reminded Wisteria of Nieve. There was also the fact that Wisteria felt some pity for the younger girl; seeing how Belleza belittled forcefully pulled her along at times reminded her all too well of her own experiences with her so-called “caregivers” growing up.

Shortly after arriving at the Rossi’s hideout for that day, it was Bianca who gave her a rundown of events that had transpired a few nights before, informing her of the attack on Cordovan Radcliff’s home, and the disappearance of Calantha. Bianca was clearly stressed at the disappearance of her younger sister, something which Wisteria doubted was helped by the conflicting stories given by Miho and Uriah.

The way Uriah told it, Calantha had betrayed them, and had retaliated in attacking Uriah, Miho, and Sparrow. He claimed he had tried to talk her out of it but that she had proceeded to shove him away and threaten him with the Sentinel that had been with them. Miho painted a more believable story overall, which Bianca herself seemed to agree with. Wisteria however was more cautious. Of all the people the Rossi’s had working for them, Miho and Uriah were by far the ones who were most loyal to Belleza, and would have done anything to curry her favour. It truly wouldn’t have surprised Wisteria if the pair of them were lying through their teeth and the poor girl had wound up killed in the crossfire.

What they really needed was Sparrow’s version of events. Wisteria didn’t trust them that well either but she knew them to be a more impartial voice when it came to certain matters within the group. Unfortunately, as was usually the case with Sparrow, they had since gone back immediately to their work, likely to only pop their head up once they had some useful information or if they were needed for a mission.

“So if you don’t mind me asking where is Belleza today?” Wisteria asked idly. Personally, she didn’t really care where the older Rossi sister was, she just found it odd not pacing around the place, gloating about how she always knew Calantha was a weak link.

Bianca was currently looking at a computer screen, entering some information into asset files. “I’ve sent her to look for, Cala,” She answered without looking up.

“Huh,” Wisteria said, blinking in surprise. “Not who I would have suspected you’d send to do that, given their relationship.”

“I needed her out of my hair,” Bianca admitted. “I know too well Belleza won’t bother looking for her, despite assuring me she would. With Belle out of the way it means I can focus on using our various hacks and access codes to the Atlas CCTV network to track her down. And then when I do find her, I can send someone I trust to retrieve her, such as you or Laurel for example.”

Wisteria’s scroll buzzed in her pocket but she ignored it. “I thought Laurel was off schmoozing some rich guy for you.”

“She is,” Bianca confirmed. “But Maxem Wulfric is still a low risk target for us, and should I need her, I can pull her out of her mission.”

Wisteria was about to say something when her scroll buzzed again - not just once but twice. Deciding she couldn’t ignore it any longer, she quickly pulled it out of her pocket and frowned at what she saw. There were three messages from Nieve glaring back at her. What was strange about these messages were that they looked as though they were responses to a conversation agreeing to meet up with someone in the back alley of the apartment building where she was currently staying. What was troubling, and somewhat concerning for Wisteria, was the fact that they had previously been communicating via a spare scroll Wisteria had bought, fearing that her own had been compromised.

“Something wrong?” Bianca asked, turning around in her chair to look at Wisteria with a raised brow.

“It’s nothing,” Wisteria was quick to say, hoping that would be the end of it. But the longer she looked at the message the more troubled she felt. “Actually, there’s something I need to take care of. Do you mind if I call it quits for today?”

Bianca held her gaze for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to let her go or not before shrugging. “You may,” She said with a flick of her hand. The Rossi woman was quick to swivel around in her chair and return to her previous work. “I won’t ask where you’re going, but if you are able, please keep an eye out for Calantha.”

Wisteria didn’t hesitate to try and call Nieve upon leaving the hideout. In fact, she wound up trying three times whilst she made her way to the apartment block. As she walked, her confusion and concern began to give way to annoyance, annoyed that after all these months of precaution her friend had been so reckless. Especially more so given that these messages implied she had been talking to someone other than Wisteria, which they had both agreed to be cautious about given the potential compromise of their scrolls.

Approaching the apartment building, Wisteria would continue to make her way up the street, before making a left turn and heading down a path between two houses, which looped around to the alleyway Nieve had mentioned in her message.

As Wisteria made her way down the alley, she was both pleased and annoyed to see Nieve already waiting outside, propped against the wall of the building. When she heard footsteps approaching, she turned to look in Wisteria’s direction, but upon realising who was coming towards her, her expression changed considerably.

“Wisteria?” Nieve blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t ‘Wisteria’ me!” Wisteria yelled, coming towards Nieve and giving her a sharp prod in the shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing messaging me out of the blue like that? What happened to us being careful, Nieve?”

“I didn’t message you!” She protested, rubbing her shoulder quickly. 

“Then explain this!” Wisteria argued, pulling out her scroll for Nieve to see the messages. Nieve came forward to read them,  squinting at the screen as she did so. When she pulled away she seemed genuinely surprised. “Those are my messages,” Nieve confirmed before shaking her head. “But I didn’t send them to you.”

“Then who did you send them to?” Wisteria pressed, gripping Nieve’s shoulders tightly.

Before Nieve could respond, their argument was interrupted by what sounded like a photograph had just been taken. Both Wisteria and Nieve turned in the direction of the sound, and Wisteria felt her heart sink when she saw Belleza and Miho standing opposite them.

“Catch, Miho,” Belleza said, tossing her scroll at the larger woman. “Once we’re done here, send that picture to Bianca and tell her to file it under times I was right and she was wrong.” Belleza proceeded to burst out into laughter at this, holding on to her weapon with her free hand as she creased with laughter. When she straightened, she looked Nieve straight in the eye. “So are you going to tell her about your secret conversations with Theo or should I?”

“Theo?” Wisteria frowned as she said the name. It took her a moment to piece it together. “Theo as in Theodora? Ulysses’s sister?”

Nieve tensed, and looked nervously between Wisteria and Belleza. “I’ll explain later!”

“Hah! You won’t,” Belleza taunted from the opposite side of the alleyway. Wisteria noted that she was gripping her weapon in more of an attacking stance, and Miho was also beginning to move into a fighting stance. “You’re not going to be leaving this alleyway.”

And then Belleza ran for them, her weapon held out in front of her, as through ready to run them through. Although neither Wisteria and Nieve could reach for their weapons immediately, Nieve was quick to deploy her webs, shooting a small one at Belleza’s legs, entangling her feet and causing her to trip and hit the floor hard. 

Belleza was already beginning to work at freeing her feet when Wisteria and Nieve charged Miho. Miho was a strong and heavy hitting opponent, and could have easily gotten the upper hand on Wisteria had she been alone, but with two opponents that were light on their feet she seemed to be struggling to keep up.

Wisteria and Nieve were able to get a few solid hits on her, before a sharp swing sent Nieve staggering back and breaking apart the duo. Unfortunately, by that point, Belleza had also freed herself and had reentered the fight, now having shifted her spear into its more compact form, allowing her to more effectively slash and parry with Nieve.

With Nieve left to deal with Belleza for the, Wisteria knew she was the only one who could weaken Miho. Punching her would be useless, and her gauntlets seemed to deflect her bullets easy enough, so she would have to rely on her semblance to distract the bigger woman momentarily. It worked, if only for a moment, allowing Wisteria the chance to get in close and try and weaken her aura. Her downfall came when she aimed a high kick at the woman’s torso, but Miho quickly recovered from the initial blast of Wisteria’s semblance, for she caught her foot and then forcefully pushed her away.

Wisteria skidded backwards but was otherwise unhurt. She was about to ready her gun to shoot at Miho, when a sudden cry from behind, stopped them both, and they turned to see Belleza and Nieve falling away from each other.

As Nieve stepped back, her aura flickered around her, clearly weakened from whatever attack Belleza had landed on her. But there was one small victory in that Nieve had landed a more harmful blow on Belleza, whose lack of aura meant she had easily been cut across her right shoulder. She seemed to be bleeding quite badly, and was using a hand to stem the blood while leaning on her weapon - once again in its spear form - for support.

“Miho,” Her voice called out, more strained than usual. “Break her aura.” And she pointed a bloody finger in Wisteria’s direction.

“As you wish,” Miho said, dipping her head in acknowledgement. She cracked her neck before punching the air with both of her fists at the same time, combining their power into a stronger blast of energy. It was all Wisteria could do to throw her hands up and try and shield herself.

The blast hit her hard, and whilst that hadn’t broken her aura entirely, getting knocked back into the wall behind her finished it off. As she slid down the wall, she was aware of the ache in her neck flaring up from getting flung backwards. Still disoriented from the attack, it took Wisteria a moment to regain her bearings, but hearing Nieve cry out in pain stirred her into action.

Watching as Nieve was thrown to the floor by Miho, Wisteria shakily raised her gun trying her hardest to stop her hands from shaking and aim towards the larger woman. Just as she got a good angle, Belleza interrupted her, kicking her arm just as she squeezed the trigger. Rather than hitting Miho the bullet struck the ground harmlessly.

Wisteria grunted in annoyance, and attempted to aim her gun at Belleza, only for the woman to preempt her attack, and wrestle the gun from her hand and throw it to the side.

“Come here!” She growled in a commanding voice, before grabbing at Wisteria’s hair and half yanked half dragged her away from the wall. Belleza threw her to the floor opposite Nieve, who made a pitiful attempt to try and reach out to her, before Belleza yanked her up into a kneeling position.

“Nie-” But before Wisteria could even finish saying Nieve’s name, she was aware of a gun being pressed against the back of her head, presumably her own as neither Belleza nor Miho typically used a gun.

“It would be so easy to kill you right now,” Belleza mused from behind. “One small squeeze would be all it takes to end your pathetic little life.” She inhaled deeply. “Unfortunately for me, my family still has a use for you and your semblance. We can’t rough you up too much, but as for our friend Nieve, well let’s just say she’s fair game.”

Wisteria’s eyes widened when she realised what was going on and tried to turn away as Miho began to punch and kick Nieve. However, Belleza was quick to grip her head and prevent her from moving. “Ah,ah, ah, Wisteria, this is your punishment. You don’t get to look away,” Belleza cooed, leaning in close and digging her nails into Wisteria’s skull. “You'll want to watch this.”

[darkershining]

Just watched episode 7 of Healin Good Pretty Cure.

At school, Nodoka is getting the feeling that somebody is watching her. Chiyu confirms her suspicions, noting that someone has been following the three of them since yesterday.

In the Bjogen’s realm, the bad guys are having another argument, before Guaiwaru decides to head out to infect the world some more.

At school, Chiyu has the other two girls ignore the person following them until they can lure him into a classroom and confront him there. The person following them turns out to be Michio Masuko, a member of the school’s newspaper club. In fact, he’s currently the only member of the newspaper club. After introducing himself, he admits that he was indeed following Nodoka, getting the impression that there’s a big scoop to be found.

When he starts explaining that he’s noticed that the monster sightings started around the time Nodoka moved to town, the girls briefly worry that he’s suspecting her of being a Pretty Cure, before he reveals his deduction that Nodoka might be summoning the monsters. Nodoka of course insists that’s not the case, but Michio says that whether that’s true or not, he will figure out what the connection is.

At Nodoka’s place, the girls and the Healing Animals discuss the situation. Hinata suggests they just tell Michio the truth so he won’t accuse Nodoka of wrong-doing, but Rabirin reminds them they can’t let anyone discover the truth about the Pretty Cure. Nodoka asks what would happen, and Rabirin admits she’s not actually what consequences would follow, since such a scenario has never actually happened before. Nodoka suggests that Chiyu and Hinata just try to avoid her for a while, since Nodoka is the one Michio is investigating.

The girls give it a try, avoiding spending time together while Michio is around to watch them. Later, as Nodoka is heading home, Chiyu decides to keep Michio’s attention away by trying to break a new school record at the high jumping, giving Nodoka some time to get a head start. When Michio starts catching up to her, Hinata also provides a distraction to by suggesting an article on the latest fashions for the newspaper, allowing Nodoka to get away.

Later on, Nodoka is taking a walk with Latte, when she realizes Michio is following her again. She tries to outrun him, only to trip and fall. Michio runs over to see if she’s okay, and helps her back on her feet. He apologizes to her for getting so caught up in his investigation that he didn’t even consider how she might feel about being chased around like this. He tells her how he once saw a spiderweb after rainfall, and how the beauty of the raindrops caught in it in the light of the sun inspired him to write his first article. After his teachers complimented the article, he continued to seek out more stories, but admits that his tendency to get absorbed in his research tends to annoy others and that’s why he’s the only member of the newspaper club. Nodoka tells him that she doesn’t think getting absorbed in what interests him is a bad thing, and says she thinks the article he wrote about the spiderweb back then must’ve been lovely.

As it rains later on, Nodoka notes that once it stops, she’d like to go out and take a look at a spiderweb herself. Turns out Michio had the same idea, going out to admire a web once the rain stops. Of course, that’s when Guaiwaru shows up and infects a Rain Element on a dew drop to create a monster.

Chiyu and Hinata show up at Nodoka’s place to visit her, when Latte falls ill and alerts them to the situation. Meanwhile, Michio goes to investigate the monster, and notes that Nodoka isn’t anywhere nearby, realizing his conclusion may have been wrong after all. He runs up for an interview, and Guaiwaru briefly considers accepting, before realizing Michio was actually trying to get an interview with the monster, catching both him and the monster off-guard. Guaiwaru is annoyed and knocks Michio aside, knocking off his glasses in the progress.

While he attempts to find his glasses in the greenery, Nodoka and the others show up and transform to fight the monster. While Michio can’t see what’s happening, he does hear enough to get the idea of what is going on. Cure Sparkle scans the monster, and Cure Grace uses an attack with the Harvest Element bottle to weaken the monster before purifying the Rain Element, which allows Latte to recover.

Michio manages to find his glasses, only to discover that the fight is over by that time. The girls to check on the Rain Element, before Michio notices them. He apologizes to Nodoka for suspecting her of summoning the monsters, having realized that wasn’t the case. Nodoka holds no hard feelings against him, and he tells them of his latest discovery, that a mysterious group of girls called the Pretty Cure were fighting the monster. He also notes that in the end, he did discover Nodoka’s secret: Even though she and the other girls were acting distant at school, they’re actually good friends. He notes that this isn’t really a story, and runs off to begin working on his story about what he discovered about the Pretty Cure. The episode ends with Nodoka admiring a spiderweb.

Another good episode! So now we have Michio Masuko, who is sort of a male counterpart to characters like Mika from Yes! Pretty Cure 5 and Miyo from Happiness Charge Pretty Cure. He’s pretty funny, I hope he’ll be a recurring character from this point on. I also really liked the scene where he talks to Nodoka about what inspired him to get into journalism.

I’ll be looking forward to the next episode!

[myaekingheart]

101. Reconciliation

               Rei rolled over onto her side and blinked sleepily as she felt Kakashi’s weight shift off the bed. She instictively reached out to grab him by the pants, tugging him backward. “No” she groaned, voice half-muffled by her pillow. As it turned out, the message Tsunade had intended to relay was that she was unable to find a substitute for Kakashi’s March 14th assignment and therefore it had been postponed until today. Though if Rei had it her way, she would postpone it forever.

               Kakashi smiled bittersweetly down at her, brushing the tangled hair out of her face and kissing her forehead. “I’m sorry, but I need to go” he whispered. “I have a duty to the village.”  

               “You have a duty to me, too” Rei mumbled, voice slow and sleep drunk like molasses.

               Kakashi chuckled. “I know I do” he replied, caressing her cheek, “But I can’t afford to miss any more work.”

               “Lame” Rei whined. She rolled over onto her opposite side and tugged the blanket all the way up over her head. Her childish defiance was equal parts annoying and endearing.

               “No amount of whining is going to get me out of work today, you know” Kakashi said. Rei hated that she knew he was right. It just didn’t feel fair. She poked her head out from under the blanket and pouted at him. Weakened by her neediness, he dropped down onto the edge of the bed and leaned over to rest his forehead against hers. “We have all the time in the world to be together. We can handle one little mission apart.”

               It wasn’t that she was unaccustomed to their conflicting schedules and lengthy missions—they had been at this for so long, they were practically experts. But things were different now. Before, they were merely boyfriend and girlfriend. Now, they were engaged. The weight of their distance just held that much more meaning.

               “Not if you’re KIA” Rei complained.

               “Rei, that’s not going to happen and you know it” Kakashi replied, his voice suddenly more stern than before.

               “How do you know?” Rei asked. “I can’t stand to be a widow.”

               Pursing his lips, Kakashi shook his head. “Because this is a D-rank mission. It’s nothing extraordinary. It’s like picking up litter off the side of the road.”

               “Anything can happen” she said matter-of-factly, a certain level of sass in her tone. But underlying all of that was a subtle joking quality. If anyone knew the realities of ninja life, it was definitely her. There was danger, yes, but there was also a mundanity to it that you grew rather accustomed to after a while. In a way, it even became boring.

               “I’ll be home by dark” Kakashi said as he fastened the holster around his thigh. Rei shuffled out of bed to retrieve his vest, clutching it close for a moment so she could drink in its scent. “Why don’t you go out today and spend some time with friends?” he suggested.

               “What friends?” Rei’s question had an edge to it, her argument with Sekkachi still sharp and stinging. Her insistent suspicion of Kakashi’s infidelity felt all the more vile now that Rei and Kakashi were engaged. Truly, how dare she.

               Kakashi caught onto this quickly and shook his head. “I think you should see Sekkachi” he replied. “You might find out that things aren’t always as they seem.”

               “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Rei asked. She was defensive but not without purpose. She just couldn’t fathom how Kakashi could still think fondly of someone who would say such cruel things about him, or at the very least how he could expect Rei to.

               As he tied his headband around his forehead, Kakashi explained, “Sekkachi and I had a little talk last week. I really think you ought to go and see her yourself.”

               A talk? The implications of this made Rei anxious. She clutched the fraying hem of her night shirt in her fist and chewed the inside of her cheek. “What do you mean you had a talk? What happened? Kakashi, what did she say to you? I swear to god, if she—”

               “Calm down” Kakashi insisted, turning to place his hands firmly on Rei’s shoulders. “It was nothing bad. I just think you’ll be able to think more clearly on the subject once you go and talk to her. Besides, it would be a shame for you to lose a friend like that.” The somber glimmer in his eye communicated between them that horrible shared understanding, the fact that life is fleeting and anything could happen. The fact that you can lose someone in the blink of an eye regardless of your current standing.

               Yet somehow still, that wasn’t enough. “Why can’t you just tell me what happened instead?” Rei asked. She really didn’t want to have to speak to Sekkachi herself. At this rate, she wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to speak to Sekkachi again.

               Kakashi adjusted his headband, zipped up his vest. “I would if I could but I’m already running late” he replied. “Besides, I really don’t want to bore you with the details.”

               Rei shook her head, growing desperate. “No, bore me with the details! Please!”

               Kakashi merely placed a tender hand upon her shoulder and looked down at her with a soft smile. “What I will say, however, is that there are two sides to every story. Please, just trust me. Go and talk to her. I guarantee you’ll feel better once you do.” He brushed the bangs out of her face and pressed his lips to her forehead before pulling his mask up and approaching the door.

               Rei watched him depart with an unresolved gaze, tangling her fingers in Toshio’s thick fur for comfort. He nuzzled her hand and panted happily before shaking his head so that his ears thwacked against her side. If she had to do this, at least Toshio would be there to support her. And at this point, she really had no other choice. Something deep in the pit of her chest was pulling her toward it now. The vagueness of Kakashi’s explanation had piqued her curiosity. There was no way she could hope to relax until she got some answers. Sighing, she spun on her heel to get dressed and track Sekkachi down.

               It was Wednesday which meant, for better or for worse, Sekkachi would be easy to find. The training grounds were no doubt already ablaze with the vigor and passion of her weekly sparring matches with Might Guy. Rei took the long way around, walking especially slow, under the guise of not infringing on their tradition. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that this was really an act of avoidance but she was grateful for it nonetheless. Procrastinating meant ample time to organize her thoughts and think through how to even start this daunting conversation. She reviewed the words passed between them at the ramen shop, the way Sekkachi slandered Kakashi’s name and insisted that he was no good for her. And the longer Rei thought about it, the more her uncertainty transformed into rage. Maybe finding Sekkachi wasn’t such a terrible plan, after all, if it meant tearing her to ribbons with her newfound knowledge. Sekkachi had long since had a habit of making Rei feel inferior or worthless anyway, so it was high time she wracked up the courage to stand up for herself. Rei only needed to culminate in that anger for a short while longer, to fully marinate herself in it before allowing herself to explode. As she turned the corner and headed down the street, she decided in the meantime to warm up with another necessary battle: speaking with her parents.

               Kaminoki was quiet as Rei slipped inside. Her mother glanced toward her daughter from behind the register, nearly finished ringing up a customer. Within the acknowledgement of her presence was an inexplicable anxiety. It took all of two seconds for Rei to recognize the physical manifestation of her own anxiety—her clenched jaw and knitted brows. She softened her gaze and hoped her mother understood her silent apology. It was never Rei’s intention to worry her.

               As she waited, however, Rei absently placed her hand atop Toshio’s head. The sunlight glinted against the engagement ring, sending a flash through Hana’s periphery. She glanced down, her heart leaping into her throat, before quickly refocusing on the customer before her.

               It was times like this when Rei’s empathy was truly a curse. Her mother’s panic was almost palpable and Rei wondered what kinds of unsavory things would be said when she officially told them the news. She feared for her father’s wrath and her mother’s tears and for a moment considered slipping out and just forgetting the whole thing. They didn’t really need to know, did they? But now she was just being ridiculous. Rei sucked in a deep breath and awaited her mother’s attention. In the meantime, she gathered all the internal power and confidence she could manage. Heaven only knew she was going to need it.

               And then the man gathered his parcel, bid Hana a good day, and nodded politely to Rei as he exited the shop. A veil of charged silence enveloped mother and daughter, staring expectantly at one another, alone save for the books on the shelves.

               “We, uh, we weren’t expecting to see you today” Hana finally spoke, her voice a murmur. She shuffled through paperwork on the counter—anything to keep herself distracted. “Is, um…is everything okay?”    

               Rei pursed her lips and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine” she lied. “I just…do you guys have a moment?” She hated asking for their time. Every time something important happened, it always warranted a temporary closure of the store which Rei knew her father despised. Time was money and anything worth their time always wasted money, it seemed. But money was superficial and this was important. Their potential rage meant nothing to what she had to do.

               Hana slowly untied her apron with a minute nod before shuffling toward the door to flip the open sign to closed. She fed Rei a nervous smile as she motioned for her to follow her up the back stairs where her father and grandmother would be. A whole family affair. Toshio nudged Rei’s hand as he followed her into the apartment, a silent sign of solidarity.

               Once upstairs, Rei was overwhelmed with a horrifying static energy. It was a chakra cocktail of expectance and anticipation, a buzzing in the ear. Her first instinct was that she needed to find Grandma Teiko. That was the only way anything would be okay, the only way she would have the strength for this.

               Yuruganai grimaced as Hana ushered him into the living room, sliding his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he impatiently sunk down in his arm chair. Hana settled onto the couch beside him, folding her hands in her lap and silently urging Rei to speak.

               A jolt of panic surged through her in that moment. “Wait, not yet. Th-this isn’t everyone” she stammered. “Where’s Grandma Teiko? She should be here, too.” Her absence was stirring within Rei a pulsating, almost unbearable anxiety. She was supposed to be here. She was always here. Rei’s mind warped back to that winter day when they made gyoza together, how shockingly obvious Grandma Teiko’s mortality had become. Rei clenched a fist at her side, sucked in a deep breath. “She needs to be here, too” she croaked.

               Clearly growing frustrated, Yuruganai sucked his teeth and replied, “She’s resting, just let her be.” When that proved to be an insufficient explanation, he added, “She wasn’t feeling well this morning and wants to be left alone.”

               If anything, that explanation only made Rei’s anxiety soar even higher. This was merely validation that things were steadily declining, that the hourglass was nearing empty. “B-but she needs to be here, she just—” Rei stammered but before she could say anything more, she received a hard thwack on the head from behind.

               “Calm down, girl, before you blow a fuse” an all-too-familiar voice spoke. Rei whipped around and there she was, a smug smile on her pale, wrinkled face.

               “G-Grandma Teiko--!” Rei gasped.

               Yuruganai jumped to his feet, mouth taut and gaze cold. “Mother, this isn’t important. Go back to bed. You need your—”

               “Well, if it wasn’t important, there woulnd’t be so much noise out here now, would there?” Grandma Teiko interrupted. She patted her son on the shoulder condescendingly as she shuffled toward the couch, taking a seat beside Hana. “Besides, I can sleep when I’m dead” she chirped. Her eyes scrunched up as she grinned and for a moment, Rei was paralyzed with equal parts anxiety and appreciation.

               Defeated, Yuruganai sunk back into his chair. “Well, get on with it then” he sighed, glaring at Rei and rubbing his temples. No wonder he spent all his time calculating finances—at least numbers were tight and neat and compliant. They didn’t talk back or cause a ruckus.

               By now, all of the focus and strength Rei had garnered was completely nonexistent. She scratched behind Toshio’s ear and searched her audience for reassurance. The ring on her finger grew heavier by the second. “Okay, so, uh…the thing is” Rei cleared her throat. She was unable to look her parents in the eyes. “A few days ago, uh…”

               The air grew humid with anticipation. Rei tried to swallow back the lump rising in her throat but it was no use. They were all staring at her, their collective gaze like spiders crawling across her flesh.

               “Come on, girl! Out with it!” Grandma Teiko suddenly interrupted, gesturing for her to go on. There wasn’t any malice or impatience in her tone, however, but rather a sort of stern encouragement. The exact sort of thing Rei expected from Grandma Teiko. And honestly, deep down Rei knew that procrastinating was only going to make it worse. She needed to just take a breath and say it already.

               Squeezing her eyes shut tight, Rei blurted, “Kakashi asked me to marry him and I said yes!” She jutted her left hand out into the open to display the ring, wincing as she awaited the impending uproar. A few moments passed before finally, Yuruganai spoke.

               “We already knew.”

               Rei didn’t even wait to process his statement before going on the defensive. “Okay, listen, I knew you were going to say that but you know what? It’s my life and—” Rei started but then her brain finally comprehended everything mid-sentence. “W-wait, what did you just say…?” she then asked, voice smaller and softer than she had expected.

               Hana smiled politely and reached her hand out, delicately resting it upon Rei’s forearm. “Rei, sweetheart, we already knew.”

               Instead of relief, Rei was overwhelmed with confusion. “That’s impossible, there’s no way you could’ve known” she said, shaking her head and dropping her eyes to the floor. She tried to do the calculations in her head, to figure out this twisted game of telephone. She didn’t want to think about how quickly the news may have spread, uncontrollable like a virus, or who was already privy to this information. She suddenly felt slimy and sick and violated. “Who told you?”

               And then the answer hit her like a ton of bricks.

               Hana shifted in her seat, brushed her mousy hair behind her ear. “Well, actually, it was…it was Kakashi.”

               Rei’s mind plunged even further into chaos. Kakashi. None of this made sense, and yet it somehow made perfect sense. All she could manage was a croaked “H-how…?”

               Now it was Yuruganai’s turn to speak. “He came by not too long ago to ask our blessing” he explained. “Said he didn’t feel right proposing without asking for permission first.”

               A jolt of panic rose in Rei’s throat as she raked her fingers through her hair. Asking for permission was traditional. It bore weight. It meant Kakashi still held the utmost respect for her family, despite everything. And if he hadn’t felt right proposing without asking first, then he definitely would not have felt right without their approval. Which meant someone had to have told him yes, which was perhaps the most unrealistic idea of them all.

               And then came Grandma Teiko. “Congratulations, Rei” she smiled and for a moment, Rei thought she saw tears brimming at the old woman’s eyes. Grandma Teiko never cried, or at least Rei had never seen her do so. It was in that moment that Rei knew this was all thanks to Grandma Teiko.

               Without a second thought, Rei surged forward and wrapped the old woman in a tight hug. Her body felt so fragile and small, so uncharacteristically vulnerable. Rei shoved those nasty thoughts out of her head as quickly as they came. Now was not the time to worry about mortality. All that mattered now was that Grandma Teiko had given her perhaps the best gift she could’ve possibly asked for: Kakashi’s acceptance into this family. For that, she would be forever grateful.

               The confrontation with her parents had, much to Rei’s surprise, left her feeling far more at peace than she had ever expected. As she hugged her mother goodbye and slipped out of Kaminoki, she considered whether she even needed to speak to Sekkachi now. Kakashi had gained her family’s approval. What business did she have proving his worth to anyone else? All other opponents seemed puny in comparison. But no, Rei needed to speak with her to put her in her place if nothing else. She needed the closure.

               The midday sun shone down upon a group of genin sprawled in the grass. They watched as their sensei and a dark-skinned woman sparred across the field, each punch and kick in perfect synchronization like choreographed dancers. Sekkachi scanned he horizon for a moment, her gaze landing upon a familiar figure beyond Guy’s team. Rei. She knew this was bound to happen sooner or later. Her heart leapt into her throat and, amid her distraction, Guy swung his leg around and kicked her in the shoulder, offsetting her balance and effectively knocking her to the ground.

               “You’re not one to get sidetracked, Sekkachi!” Guy said, extending a hand to help her up. She took it with aggravation, grumbling under her breath as she rose to her feet.

               “Yeah, well, something came up” she muttered. As she dusted the dirt off her clothing, she then said, “I think I’m gonna have to cut training short today. Looks like I have some business to attend to.” She glanced back at Rei, this time locking eyes with her, and in her gaze was a certain strength and determination that proved she meant business.

               Guy followed Sekkachi’s gaze and quickly understood the circumstances. He patted Sekkachi on the shoulder and gave her an encouraging thumbs up, but not even that made her feel better. Sekkachi met him with a polite but restrained smile, bidding him a silent goodbye as she approached her comrade.

               “Can I help you with something?” Sekkachi asked, arms crossed and eyes looking her up and down. Guy’s team peered over their shoulders to watch the interaction unfold. Guy quickly intervened, ushering them away from the scene so as to give the two a sense of privacy.

               Rei pursed her lips, her confidence unwavering. “You and I need to have a long talk” she said. Toshio stood beside her, releasing a slight growl in agreement. They would not take no for an answer. Sekkachi nodded only once before they disappeared down the street.

               It was so strange returning to Ichiraku with her like this. Teuchi eyed them with a hint of suspicion and perhaps even concern as they tok their seats, wondering what might come of this visit. And truly, this was the last place Rei wanted to go for this. A part of her feared that returning to the same environment with Sekkachi would leave her vulnerable and unhinged, like reenacting the past. The only issue was that she couldn’t think of anywhere better to go. Their apartments were too personal, too suffocating. The park was far too open and broad. Any other restaurant would just feel like an intrusion. Ichiraku was the only valid option, as much as Rei wished it wasn’t. She met Teuchi’s eyes, a silent affirmation that this was strictly business, perhaps even a warning that he should prepare for the intense conversation that was about to transpire. He got to work immediately fixing her a plate of gyoza. Ayame set before them two glasses of water dripping with condensation.

               Sekkachi fumbled around in her pouch, producing a pill bottle. She poured a single blue pill into the palm of her hand, tossing it into her mouth and chasing it with a long swig of water. “So, what did you want to talk about?” she asked as she wiped her mouth. She did not meet Rei’s eyes.

               Rei watched her suspiciously, shaking her head. “What was that for?” she asked. “You haven’t even eaten anything.”

               “Precautionary measures” Sekkachi replied bluntly. “Something tells me this conversation is going to give me a flare-up.”

               Rolling her eyes, Rei laughed incredulously. “God, you’re so fucking dramatic” she muttered under her breath.

               “Are you going to tell me why we’re here or not?” Sekkachi asked. On the outside, it was easy to assume that she felt Rei was just wasting her time. Internally, however, she just wanted to get this over with. Sekkachi knew exactly what was coming. She knew she was bound to face the repercussions of her misjudgment sooner or later. Every day leading up to this point had been rife with indigestion.

               Rei sucked in a deep breath and fixed her eyes on the countertop. “It’s about Kakashi” she said, voice firm and gaze unyielding.

               “Listen” Sekkachi sighed, “I know what you’re going to say, and I—”

               “Shut up” Rei snapped. She tightened her grip on her water glass, watching the droplets spill onto her pale knuckles. “I’m going to need you to do me a favor and keep your mouth shut, got it? Because I have a lot to say and your interruptions are only going to fuck me up” she continued. Rei barely glanced over to catch Sekkachi’s response but she could see her nodding in her periphery. Ayame anxiously set a plate of gyoza out for her and Rei nodded once in quiet thanks. She tried to channel all of her energy into this moment, into focusing on what needed to be said, on formulating the sentences in a way that were both meaningful and comprehensible.

               Sekkachi nodded once, her posture loosening. “Okay” she said. “I’m listening.” And it was then that Rei knew she had her undivided attention.

               Rei furrowed her brows and concentrated hard on the confrontation at hand. “I am sick and tired of you constantly putting me down and treating me like shit. And that goes for Kakashi, too” she started. “I don’t know what it is that makes you think you’re responsible for me but I’m not a little kid anymore, Sekkachi. You think you have good intentions but if anything, you’re just condescending and insulting. I can make my own decisions and you need to trust that I’m doing what’s right for me, not anyone else.”

               “I know, and I—“ Sekkachi started.

               “I told you not to interrupt me” Rei growled. There was a crazed panic in her eyes that Sekkachi was unsure she had ever seen in her before, or at least not to this magnitude. An expression that threatened to gut her should she defy orders again. After a moment of silence, Rei composed herself and continued. “I know Kakashi hasn’t had the cleanest track record. I know he’s done things that have seemed harmful but you need to have faith in him and believe me when I say that he is a good person. You don’t need to protect me from him. He loves me and takes care of me. This should be proof enough of his commitment.” Here, she extended her hand out across the table to show off the engagement ring. Sekkachi stared down at it dumbly before giving a single nod in understanding. “I fully intend to spend the rest of my life with him no matter what anyone else has to say about it. Not even my parents—who, I will have you know, actually approved of this, so there’s absolutely no reason for you not to.”

               “Th-they did…?” Sekkachi croaked.

               Rei nodded, her lips taut. “He asked for their blessing, Sekkachi.”

               “But your family hates Kakashi, what the—”

               “I know” Rei interrupted. “But they gave him their permission anyway. They accept him, so why the fuck can’t you?”

               “Am I allowed to speak now?” Sekkachi asked.

               “Don’t be a dick” Rei snapped, a harsh affirmation.

               Rubbing her forehead, Sekkachi huffed and tried to figure out how to even explain this. Apologies weren’t exactly her forte. “I fucked up, alright?” she said. “I got caught up in feeling like I needed to protect you because I know how much Kakashi has put you through in the past, and I wanted to believe that things were going fine and everything but knowing how close you two had gotten now, and how suspicious he was acting, I just…I couldn’t stand to see him hurt you again. Not now. I know what you would’ve done to yourself if you found out he was pulling shit.” Here, her eyes glanced down at Rei’s forearms, the pale scars lining her skin. “I can’t afford to lose anyone else” Sekkachi added. Her voice was low and hoarse, so uncharacteristically weak. “I was so angry about it all, so pissed off at the idea that he could do something like that to you, that I confronted him and…fuck, I made such a big fucking mistake.”

               “Damn right, you did” Rei agreed. Toshio huffed down at Rei’s feet and she tossed him a dumpling from her plate.

               “I asked him about everything, and he was honest” Sekkachi continued. “When he showed me the ring, my heart just dropped straight into my stomach. I can’t believe I was so fucking dumb. How could I have misread all of those signs? And then he started talking about how much he loved you, how you deserved the world and all that sappy shit. He was going to wait forever for the perfect moment. At that rate, I didn’t think he’d ever actually ask. But I told him not to procrastinate. That if he kept waiting around for the perfect moment, it was never going to come. That…that you need to tell people that you love them before it’s too late. There’s not enough room for dicking around when our lives are on the line.”

               Sekkachi didn’t even need to say her name for Rei to know this was about Naru. The aftermath of her death still loomed heavy over both of their heads. “Guess it’s just an occupational hazard” Rei muttered, shaking her head. She shoved a dumpling in her mouth, her cheeks puffing out as she chewed and swallowed.

               “I wish it didn’t have to be” Sekkachi replied. “I just can’t afford to lose anyone else. Sometimes…I don’t know, sometimes I just feel like you’re all I have left.” Even saying it made Sekkachi nauseous—too sick for her medication to counter. She leaned forward and took a tiny sip of water, knowing her time was running short.

               “That’s not true” Rei replied. “You have Guy.”

               “But that’s not the same” Sekkachi replied. “What Guy and I have is special but it’s nothing like the bond between two women.”

               “What about Chikara-sensei?” Rei asked.

               Sekkachi shook her head. “When was the last time you saw her around? She cares, yeah, but she’s too busy for either of us and you know it. Face it, Rei. When it comes down to it, you’re the only person I really have. Like the sister I never wanted but got stuck with anyway. You piss me off but I can’t let anything happen to you.”

               Rei hated how much weight her words carried. “Yeah, well you piss me off, too” Rei replied. “I don’t want to keep anyone in my life who isn’t going to support what makes me happy. I’m tired of constantly feeling like I need to prove something to you. You’re so selfish, Sekkachi. You only ever think about your own perception. Believe people when they tell you the truth. Shut up long enough to listen to what someone has to say to you.”

               For a moment, Sekkachi was fully prepared to counter. As she stalled, however, she realized she didn’t have a leg to stand on. Rei was right. She was selfish. She was preoccupied with her own perspectives. A pang of pain struck her in the gut and she began fumbling for cash in her pouch. Her time was up. She needed to go home.

               “I’m sorry” Sekkachi sighed. “I can’t say I won’t stop being an asshole because at this point, it’s just part of my sparkling personality, but honestly? I really cannot afford to lose you.” She slid the cash across the counter and then looked at Rei with a soft, somber expression. “I love you, you bitch. I am committed to making you comically miserable for the rest of my life. And I need you to believe me when I say I’m really, truly happy for you, Carrots. You’re finally getting everything you ever wanted and I’ll be damned if I miss out on it.”

               As Rei watched Sekkachi depart, she wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or pissed off. But after twenty years, she had grown to understand that that was just the way it was with Sekkachi. She was never going to stop being a blunt, arrogant thorn in her side. But maybe things were different now. Maybe, deep down, Sekkachi really, truly did, in fact, care. And as much as Rei hated to admit it, she couldn’t afford to lose her, either.

[chuffyfan87]

Hiding. Part 81b

Charlie picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, tucking her up in bed. Then despite him being exhausted, set about cleaning and disinfecting the house from top to bottom.

"Daddy?" Tilly mumbled from her bedroom door as he passed.

“Yes sweetheart?” He asked as he came into Tilly’s bedroom.

"I don't feel..." She couldn't get the words out before she was sick.

“Oh great.” Charlie muttered. By morning, every single person in the house including Charlie had caught the bug.

He and Duffy were like zombies trying to look after the children whilst horribly sick themselves. But they managed it. They were a team after all. Even if they were exhausted and sick.

By early afternoon the children were all napping. Duffy flopped down on the sofa next to Charlie.

Charlie’s hand rubbed Duffy’s thigh, “There's something I need to tell you.” He withdrew his hand quickly from her thigh.

"Mmhmm?" She mumbled as she rested her head back on the sofa cushions.

“Maggie tried to seduce me in the lifts at work last night.”

Duffy's head shot up, a move she immediately regretted. "What?! Urgh..." She groaned.

“I swear nothing happened!”

"As soon as I can stand without falling down I swear I'm gunna kill her!" Duffy hissed, her voice weakened by illness but still menacing sounding.

“I did try and warn her you’d do just that.” He smiled. They were still struggling with touching each other - Charlie seemed to hold back a lot more than he used to.

"No-one touches my husband but me."

Charlie’s hand rested against the top of her thigh, “Are you okay with my hand being here?” He asked.

She nodded. "The longer you stay away the more I worry that I've pushed you away and you'll go off me." She whispered regretfully.

“The reason for me not touching you as much?”

"Yeh. I've treated you so badly lately. I wouldn't blame you if you had taken Maggie up on her offer last night."

“I just worry that I’m putting pressure on you.” He admitted and rubbed her thigh, “Hardest thing has definitely been trying to touch you less. I wouldn’t want to have sex with anyone other than you.”

"These few weeks are so frustrating. I know we can't have sex yet for a while but I miss your cuddles and kisses."

“I don’t want you to think I’m using you like a piece of meat.” He answered honestly, “It’s been on my mind ever since.”

"I can't even begin to say how sorry I am for lashing out at you like that. It was out of line. I was a total mess inside but that's no excuse." She sighed. "I just hope that you can forgive me and we can eventually move past it."

“I do forgive you.” He replied as his hand moved from her thigh and up her body towards her breasts. “So you don’t mind me touching you all the time?” He smirked.

"I didn't realise how much I enjoy it til you stopped."

“The touches?” He smiled, “I’ll continue then.” His hand cupped her breast.

"Be careful though. They're quite sensitive." She smiled, fighting the fact that she still felt utterly lousy.

“I’ll be careful, I promise.” He was gentle to her breasts. “Fancy a nap? I could do with a cuddle.”

"Sleep and cuddles sounds perfect. I don't think I have the energy to walk upstairs to our bedroom though."

“Only one thing for it.” He stood up and picked her up.

"Charlie! You're sick too. Don't you dare drop me!" She giggled.

“What, like this?” He pretended to drop her as he reached the top of the stairs.

"Not funny." She gasped as her stomach lurched.

“Sorry sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead before lying her down on the bed.

"How are you feeling?"

“Tired.” He lay beside her, threw the duvet over them and cuddled her.

"Me too. I just hope I've stopped being sick coz it hurts so much when I throw up."

“Fingers crossed.”

"Could be worse, could have ripped my stitches." She mumbled as she snuggled into his embrace.

“That’s true.” His fingertips ran up her thighs.

She shivered, his touch giving her goosebumps.

“Sorry babe.”

"Its ok. We're both horribly sick. I couldn't have gotten through the last twelve hours without you though."

“It’s a good job I came home when I did.”

"Yeh. Was it Maggie you had the argument with?"

“Yeah.”

"Why is she so determined to cause trouble for us?" Duffy asked sadly, her hand softly stroking her husband's chest.

“Because she’s jealous that my wife’s the only one who can come on my cock.” He whispered.

"I bet you're loving it being the centre of attention for two women." She teased.

“Maybe just a little.” He whispered.

"So long as you know who's bed it is you belong in."

“She seemed very adamant on giving me a helping hand to reduce my tenseness.”

"Did she now? Considers herself an expert on what you like does she?"

“Uh huh.” Charlie’s hand moved higher up Duffy’s thigh, “There's only one woman who wanks me off, sucks my cock and comes on it. And she’s going to be very disappointment to find out it isn’t her.”

"And I look forward to taking great pleasure in reminding her of that fact when I next see her." There was a slightly menacing undercurrent in Duffy's tone.

“I did warn her not to get on the wrong side of you. You’re very feisty when you need to be.”

"I don't like sharing."

“I may have got a bit turned on at one stage.”

"By her?!" Duffy pulled back, angry fire lighting up her eyes.

“She said she’d been told she gives a good blowjob.” He caught her gaze, “Nobody gives better ones than you. I may have started to think about the first time you had my cock in your mouth.”

"Nice save!" Duffy chuckled.

“I’m being serious.” He replied. “My thoughts immediately went to our first time.”

"I still can't believe I dared to do that at work!" She blushed.

“Gets me so hard, just thinking about it.” Charlie whispered in her ear.

"I would give you a repeat performance but I fear I'd vomit in your lap." She chuckled sarcastically.

He laughed, “Do you mind if I pass on that?”

"I thought you might say that." She smiled.

“I don’t really fancy being spewed up on.”

"Hopefully by tomorrow morning we'll no longer be struggling to move for the vomit."

“Trust us to get the bug.”

"You'd think we'd be immune by now."

“The amount of germs these lot we call children breed, probably not.”

"Between them and work I would have thought we'd met every germ there is!"

“Hmm, clearly not.” He kissed her ear again.

She snuggled closer to him, feeling herself relax more than she had for several days.

“Babe?”

"Mmm?"

“Would you be up for a threesome? Me, you, Maggie....” He struggled to contain his laughter.

Her head shot up so fast at the suggestion that her stomach lurched.

He burst out laughing.

She made a rude gesture with her hand as she reached for the bucket with her other hand.

He rubbed her back, “You ok babe?”

She groaned as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "That answer your question?" She asked, her eyebrow raised.

He sighed, “Cuddles again?”

"You better have been joking about a threesome..."

“Every man’s fantasy.” He replied with a chuckle, “Course I was.”

"Good! I'm prepared to do most things but that's a no." She chuckled as she snuggled back into his arms.

“I have the stamina but I don’t fancy Maggie.” He stroked her fingertips.

"You wouldn't have any energy left by the time it was her turn." Duffy replied smugly.

“There’s also that.” He yawned, “Love you.”

"Am I tiring you out just imagining it?" She giggled.

“Yes.”

"Have a little patience and soon your fantasies will become reality." She smiled seductively.

“Looking forward to it.” He replied

"Now let's try and get some sleep before one of the kids starts puking again."

“Hmm, agreed.” It didn’t take Charlie long to fall asleep.

Duffy awoke a couple of hours later to a quiet house. Feeling a lot better she left Charlie to sleep and slipped out the room to check on the children.

All the children were still asleep. All three girls were cuddled up together in Lottie’s bed.

Duffy sat watching the girls for several minutes. Despite now having her own room Emily had clearly felt the need for the comfort of her little sisters. The girls had a wonderful bond when they weren’t fighting and tearing strips off each other.

Duffy quietly stepped over to the bed and tucked the duvet back over them before gently placing the back of her hand against each of their foreheads.

Their temperatures had come down since this morning, they weren’t burning up like they were.

Leaving them to sleep she then went to check on Oliver and Paul.

They too were asleep. Oli upside down in his cot, clutching his blanket in one hand.

After finishing checking on the rest of the boys Duffy came back downstairs and started to tidy the kitchen.

With no distractions, it didn’t take long for her to finish the kitchen.

She knew the rest of the house needed doing but instead she wandered back through to the lounge.

Paul began to cry from upstairs. Charlie got out of bed and went to him.

Hearing the baby's cries Duffy hauled herself back up from the sofa and headed upstairs. Reaching the door to the nursery she smiled at the sight of Charlie gently rocking Paul in his arms. "He's probably hungry, why don't you go back to bed?" She suggested softly.

Charlie was gently rocking Paul in his arms. He looked up when he heard Duffy and shook his head, “I’m awake now.”

"If you're sure?" She lent against the doorframe, it made her heart burst watching her husband with their children, he was such a wonderful father.

He nodded, “Yeah I’m sure.” He smiled brightly as he looked down at Paul again.

"I've tidied up the kitchen. You feeling any better now?"

“Yes I do, what about you?”

"I think I'm over the worst of it."

“That’s good.” He smiled and came over, kissing her cheek.

"The other kids seem to be sleeping off the worst of it now too."

“That’s good. Hopefully tomorrow we’ll be back to normal.”

"Then I can start plotting my revenge..." She smirked.

“On Maggie?” He smirked.

"You don't think I'm just going to let it slide do you?" She asked, batting her eyelashes.

“No. You never let anything slide.” Charlie moved his hand to stroke her hip. “You’re even more sexy when you’re angry...”

"I promise to play nice..." She simpered, a hint of sarcasm creeping in.

“No you won’t.” His hand moved further up her body. “Has it been nearly six weeks yet?”

"Nowhere near that darling. Last night just made it seem that way!"

“Urgh.” He groaned. “I’m so hard and horny.” He whispered and pouted.

[minstrivia]

; sangria | m.

— a/n: this is the first fic i released on this website. so like spare me.

— pairing: min yoongi x reader

— genre: smut, pwp, jealous!yoongi

— word count: 3k+

— warnings: dirty talk, creampie, exhibitionism (basically fucking on a beach), pet names, unprotected sex 

— summary: a day at the beach has yoongi hornier than he’d like to admit.

Admittedly, Yoongi had bought the skimpy bikini set for Y/N to use in closed facilities, like their own pool, or their bedroom. Not in actual public where wandering eyes meet her figure continuously. He doesn't even know why he let her leave the house, he should have stood his ground and demanded she changed. But she has a way of talking, like promising to suck him off when they get back home. Yeah, the argument was pretty much over after that. But it didn't mean he was fine with it. He doesn't even know what possessed him to buy it. When he'd seen it the shops he knew it would look good on her, he'd imagined the way it would wrap around her curves deliciously, but even his imagination can't beat or compare to reality in the slightest. 

She looks like pure, hot, sex. And he can't keep his eyes off. In fact, he hasn't. He's been observing her heatedly as she talks with a smile on her face to the bartender. He doesn't miss the way the boys' eyes linger below her face from time to time, and Yoongi knows exactly what he's thinking because he's thinking it too. Yet, she's oblivious to the whole ordeal. Her eyes crinkle as she laughs at something he's said and Yoongi has half the mind to stomp over there and drag her away.

But before he's even pushed himself off the ground she's strolling back towards him, two glasses in hand and his anger simmers momentarily as he admires his fiancée. 

Yoongi’s always admiring her. The way her engagement ring glints in the sunlight to remind him, they're forever. The way her legs go on for miles and if he squints hard enough, he can almost make out the purple bruise on her inner thigh. And the way she fits him, so snug and right on his body, like she was made just for him.

“What were you talking about?” He asks, subtly jerking his head in the direction of the bartender that's still sneaking glances at her.

Y/N takes a seat between his outstretched legs, crossing her own Indian style. Her brows furrow and she glances up at him whilst trying to steady the glasses on the book she brought.

“Jason?”

He frowns glaring at her accusingly. Yoongi knows Y/N, she's a flirt, plain and true, entirely out of habit though. Most times she doesn't even mean it or realises she's doing it. But she'll do it, and it always succeeds to piss him off. 

“First name terms already?”

Y/N shrugs not really understanding the bitter tone in his voice. She hasn't done anything yet so she won't let him spoil her day like he'd tried to this morning. “He asked if he could get my number—”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. How was she so nonchalant about this? “Oh—he did, did he.”

“Yeah—” She says, a teasing smile accompanying. He's definitely jealous. “—had to tell him I didn't think my fiancé would be too understanding.”

Yoongi grins planting a kiss on her lips that leaves her breathless. That's his girl.

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Anyway, he gave me free sangrias and told me to tell you that you are a very lucky guy.”

He is lucky. Very lucky indeed. He doesn't know where or what he'd be doing if she hadn't given him another chance. All he knows is, he'll never stop loving her. And well, that wouldn't have been good for him without her. 

“Hm, I am aren't I?” He encloses his arms around her waist pulling her set against his chest. “Justin's a very smart guy.”

Y/N slaps his arm holding back her smile. “Jason,” She corrects knowing full well he hadn't forgotten but instead insisted on acting like a jealous bastard. 

He doesn't care. He shifts her hair to one side and brushes his lips over her shoulders. She smells enticing. A concoction of apples, almonds and him. He can definitely smell himself on her. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look today?” He asks, not really expecting an answer. 

She giggles. He always makes her feel like a giddy high school girl again. “Really, you think so?” She doesn't.

He hums.

She leans back into him and her eyes flutter close. The sound of waves rippling, laughs and chatter fill her ears and her lips stretch up.

“You know what I just realised?” She pops an eye open to check if he's listening. He is. “I haven't been to the beach in like—” She holds up her freshly painted white nails. “—2 years.”

Yoongi grimaces. It's not like she didn't want to go to, well to some extent she didn't, she's not the biggest fan of the place. Y/N hates the way the sand sticks to her body, amongst other things. But mostly, she just hasn't felt as body confident as she used to since she had Hye. 

“It's been that long?”

“Yeah—” She chuckles nervously feeling as self-conscious as ever. These girls on the beach are young, skinny and single. She wouldn't be surprised if Yoongi found someone else more up to speed to go with. “I'm so old compared to all the girls here.”

“I hardly believe 23 is old. If you’re old then 25 must be ancient.”

She laughs. “Yoongi, you’re a grandpa you don’t count.”

He squeezes her tightly with a scowl.

But the point still stands, ever since she gave birth to Hye, her body changed. For one, her breasts are bigger than they used to be which she guesses is positive because Yoongi claims he likes it a lot. 

However, the stretch marks, no matter what Yoongi says, she doesn't like. Sure, they're faint because she'd been avidly using Aloe Vera on them like Google had told her too. But they're still there if you look properly. And she hates it.

Yoongi strokes her stomach, thumb painting his name in ghost ink. He can practically hear her think and it isn't hard to discern what she's thinking. Sure, the girls are pretty but they're also bland. They're not his Y/N.

So, he decides it's the best time to tell her what's been running in his mind for far too long.

“You know, I would really like to fuck you right now.”

Y/N releases a slow breath. She's expected this from him, ever since he almost cancelled the day trip when he saw what she was wearing. She's been waiting for him to speak his intentions, but she hasn't come here for this.

“No way.” She sits up and turns to face him with the sternest face she can muster. Yoongi thinks she looks adorable. 

“Can you see how pale I am? I need to tan.”

He splays his hand on her thigh and grabs firmly. 

“Well, I don't think you need to.” He murmurs, tracing the magenta bruise he'd left on her the other night and she shivers visibly. He catches her earlobe between his teeth. “Plus, I like the way my marks show up on your skin.”

Y/N shakes her head, shuffling off of his lap swiftly and turning on the towel to lay on her stomach before he can manipulate her with his words like he's done many times before. 

“Yeah...well, I want to tan.” 

She releases the clasp of her bikini bra and he groans at the way her breasts spill out invitingly. The bra itself is only held by a flimsy knot around her neck. If he just tugs it with his finger it'd be off. Which isn't putting him at any ease.

“You can tan later.”

In Yoongi’s head, if she really wants him not to touch her, then she's not presenting her case very well. And having her rounded ass in his face isn't helping his growing hard-on either. Mainly because he remembers the way he pounded into her from behind last night as she ground against him, crying for more. 

He rearranges his shorts awkwardly. He needs to fuck her. And he's going to.

He rests on his side facing her. 

“Baby, look,” He starts, trailing a finger languidly down her spine. “You can sit on my lap. I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side—” 

Her breath hitches and he smirks, he's almost got her. “—and no one will notice.”

It does sound tempting. In fact, if he had caught her at another time, she would already be on his lap. But now, she really does just want a day to relax and tan without having sex. So, Y/N ignores him.

“What d'you think Hye’s doing with your parents?”

Yoongi grumbles and lies back on the towel. Is she being serious? 

“I don't really want to think about our sons' whereabouts when I have a very fucking painful boner.”

Y/N glances at his shorts. He's shifting around uncomfortably and it does look painful. She almost feels bad. She huffs, her resolve weakening by the minute as she thinks about having him buried to the hilt inside her as he fucks her brains out.

“I am not about to have sex with you on the beach.”

“But baby, you look so fucking good,” He whispers in her ear, kissing the skin behind. “And you know how much I love being inside of you.”

Y/N knows, she loves him inside her too. He's so big and his cock is so perfect. She nibbles at her lip, biting back a moan. Why does he always have the right words to get her worked up. 

All she wants is one day when they're not going at it like rabbits. Is that too much to ask for?

Apparently, to Yoongi, it is.

He sits up with a scoff picking her up easily and settling her on his lap again, back pressed against his chest. 

“Y/N... if I want to fuck you. I will.”

She sighs. He's so stubborn, he won't give up for anything. She grabs the towel she'd been lying on and covers her lap with it. 

“Fine.”

Yoongi’s face is already buried in her neck when he smiles and squeezes her waist. “Thank you, princess,” He mutters against her, sucking and biting harshly at the creamy surface. “I'll fuck you so good.”

After he's done with her, he's gonna send her back to the bar, marked up and sweaty, so that the boy can see who she belongs to. 

She's his and will always be.

Y/N rests her head back on his shoulder with a muted moan, allowing him ease of access as her eyes flits around the area. Apart from the few people at the bar hut and the people playing around in the water, she'd say they were safe. At least, as safe as they could be on a beach anyway.

Yoongi isn't even taking precautions like Y/N, he's visibly excited that he's about to fuck her on a beach. He tugs his shorts down quickly.

His cock rubs against her covered pussy as she grinds down against him impulsively. “You need to be faster than this Yoongs,” She whines.

“I'm coming—” He shifts the towel around their body in place, knowing it'll probably make Y/N feel more sheltered. “I'm coming, hold on baby girl.”

He draws her panties to the side and his cock twitches as he strokes himself against her slit. He lets out a shaky breath, her juices coat his tip almost immediately and he wants to eat her so bad. But he can't. Not here.

“Shit my baby girls so wet for me, isn't she?”

“Christ.” Her eyes roll back as she gasps. She's incredibly needy now. She has to force herself not to move without his command. She knows her Yoongi. And she knows as riled as he is, he'll leave her horny if she disobeys him. “Just fuck me... please.”

God. She's so pretty and good to him, particularly so when she's begging for him. He loves it when she begs, makes him feel in control. 

“Look at you.” He sniggers. “Weren't you just so adamant on me not being inside you.”

She denies it.

“You sure baby?”

Y/N sucks in a sharp breath as he sinks her down on his cock slowly until all of him is buried inside her warmth. And her jaw slackens, a whine escaping her mouth. He always fills her so goddamn well. 

She can't control the noises that leave her lips, and as sweet as he finds them he's gonna need her to stop. Even though he doesn't want her to. He wants to hear every whimper she makes.

“Try to keep quiet baby girl. We don't want to get caught,” Yoongi urges breathily and cups a breast from underneath her bra in his large hand. “Now, I'm gonna need you to ride me yeah...”

Y/N nods fervently, hurriedly digging her fingers into his thigh painfully and he bites into the skin under her jaw with the same intensity. 

Both are numb to the feeling, revelling in the steady rhythm her hips make as she lifts herself up and sits back down, burying herself deep on his cock each time. Her breast bounces in his hands and he rolls her nipple between his fingers.

They're both short of breath, panting and groaning like dogs in heat. The sun beats down on them in sweltering heat waves and their bodies are slick with sweat. 

They'd never fucked so publicly before and the thought of someone watching them arouses her to no end and Y/N can't take it anymore.

He feels so good filling her completely like his cock was made just for her cunt. Her stomach tightens, she wants him to pound into her so bad.

“Sh-Shit Yoongi, I need you to—” Her knees buckle as she rocks desperately against him. “I can't.”

Yoongi grabs at her waist. “You've been getting so greedy recently. Don't you dare fucking even think about stopping,” He growls in her ear. He plants a hand into the sand around them, steadying himself as he begins to thrust up into her.

He's driving into her hungrily, forceful and keen strokes set out to impale her swollen pussy. His name leaves her lips like a memorised mantra, the lewd slaps of her body against his entirely too loud for the beach but he loves it all. 

“Fuck, my girls always so good at taking my cock, isn't she?”

“Yes—” She exhales shakily. “I love taking your cock so much.”

“God, you’re such a fucking cock whore.”

Her hair scatters across her face as she shakes her head. “Yes— Yes, I love your cock. I love it when you come inside me—”

Yoongi grins against her jaw. “Yeah? You like it when I fill you?”

Y/N struggles for breath, choppy, short and strangled puffs each time he pushes. “Uh huh—I love it when you watch your cum seep out of me as well. Makes me feel like a good girl for you.”

“Jesus Christ, you're so fucking filthy, who's letting you keep talking like that?” 

Y/N doesn't have to say it. They both know that it's him. Yoongi’s letting her speak like that. And she's so overthrown in the bliss that the words just flow out naturally.

“It's because you fuck me so so so good.”

“I do, don't I?” He grunts, huffing and puffing to catch his breath. “It's 'cause my girl knows how to take her cock so well.”

She's hysterically trying to keep her grip on his thighs but he's treating her like a rag doll, and she can't wait to see the bruises his hands make on her waist.

“Yes— fuck, yes!”

“So, will you be a good girl and keep it all in you then?” Fuck, she's clenching so hard on him, and her walls are so tight he can barely move. He grits out with clenched teeth. 

“I want to see you talk to that boy again with ruined panties a—and my cum running down your thighs. Can you do that for me, baby?”

Y/N’s agreeing before he can even finish. “I'll do anything you want. I just— I just want to feel your cum stuffing me full.” 

Her head is dizzy with pleasure as his thrusts stay unrelenting. There's no empathy in them and fire pools low in her abdomen. And he's shaking.

“Fucking hell princess.”

Yoongi can't believe how lucky he is to have such a naughty girl like her, he will reward her though. He knows her body like the back of his hand. 

He lifts her off of him much to her complaint and turns her around, so they're face to face, he rests his forehead against hers giving Y/N ample time to breathe before slamming her body down towards him.

“Oh god, right— right there.”

Yoongi smirks, pounding into her again and again. Aggravating slow and controlled strokes that has her covering her silenced shrieks with a shaky hand. 

“Here?” He mocks.

“Yoongi!” She throws her head back and he relishes in how beautiful she looks for him. Her face is flushed, strands of brown hair stuck onto it and her lips are bright and swollen by the way she's been biting at them with her teeth.

He shushes her. “Don't worry baby, I've got you.” He's always got her. 

Y/N’s overcome with all emotions at once, her eyes sting with unshed tears. It's the pure incredibility of how well he's fucking her on a public beach and she knows she can't go back from this. Nor can he, he's gonna tick this off his bucket list and boast to the boys.

“God—I love you so fucking much Yoongi.”

He kisses her throat, soft and loving despite his thrusts. “I love you too—so much.” He means it. He's always meant it. 

“Fuck, I'm gonna—”

Y/N hooks her arms around his neck tightly, or else she's sure she's gonna flop back. Her back arches as she pushes her breasts flat onto his chest and he captures her lips in a bruising kiss. It's messy and sensual, tongues massaging together, and it just manages to mute out her clamorous moans. 

His pace speeds up, frantic and careless strokes into her as he chases his release. “I want you to cum around my cock princess,” Yoongi says heatedly. “Want to feel it so bad.”

And Y/N can't hold back anymore, the blue skies fade to black as she writhes against him, dissolving into blinding pleasure. Her walls tighten around him, the sensitivity of his vigorous strokes causing her to jerk and jolt.

He groans holding her firmly, his muscles contracting and relaxing when he goes still. His seed splatters against her walls, pump after pump of warm cum filling her so right. Like he always does. And they know it's messy, it always is.

“Fuck, my angel did so well—” Yoongi leaves sweet kisses on her jaw. Y/N hums, looking completely ruined and so rightfully his. Just like he's so rightfully hers.

Her body is flimsy as Yoongi lifts her up gently, pulling himself out of her. He fixes her panties before their juices trickle out of her slit too quickly. 

“Now try to hold my cum in you, and go talk to that bartender boy again.”

Y/N laughs. “Christ— you love this don't you.”

Yoongi curses as she does up her bra and stands to her feet. His hands and mouth have left prominent marks on her skin and he can already see his release beginning to run down her thighs.

 She sighs, “At least let me wear a shirt.”

all rights reserved ©️ minstrivia

[you-guys--are-losers]

Only You

Summary: 

“Once upon a time we had it all, Somewhere down the line we went and lost it; One brick at a time we watched it fall... I’m broken here tonight, and darling, no one else can fix me-- Only you.”

- “Only You” by Little Mix

Warnings: Violence, Grief, Depression, Loss

Word Count:  2,387

Characters: Michelle Jones x Peter Parker

//Sorry, guys, it’s been a while! I know this isn’t a fic update, but I just felt like writing tonight. ;) Thanks for being patient with me!

The fight was bigger than any that the two of them had ever had.

It took all of MJ’s willpower not to think about it as she moved around the apartment at night, her feet cold on the wooden floors. Her mom was out for the night, and normally this would be one of the nights spent with Peter. It had started about a week after they began to go out, right after MJ admitted to him that she didn’t really like to be home alone. He started showing up with a movie to watch, with one of May’s recipes to try, with a page filled with a half-completed formula for improved web serum. Whatever it was, the two spent the night doing it, and then ended up falling asleep on the sofa or curled up on the floors with blankets and plates of food.

But now, the house was empty, and it had been this way since their fight almost a week ago.

MJ set the kettle on the stove with unnecessary force, trying to block out the thoughts. But, even as she worked to find the tea bag she wanted, she could not keep away the recollection of the argument.

It started small, with one comment from MJ, reminding him that she did not need to be sheltered from his double-life. His reply had been terse, a reply in which he agreed with her verbally, but his tone suggested otherwise. MJ, being stubbornly observant, had commented on this, and before she knew it they were snapping. Neither one shouted-- it was not their style, although Peter’s voice did rise in pitch when he was upset. And he was upset; they both were. Neither wanted to be fighting.

But MJ was sick of seeing the boy she cared about so much being buried beneath the burden of his superhero identity, and Peter was sick of her prompting him to allow her into harm’s way. The fight had been inevitable, and MJ did not know if there was a solution. All she knew was that she was falling in love with the slightly shorter boy with the mess of soft curls.

And now, she thought she might have lost him.

MJ’s thoughts were interrupted by the shrill scream of the kettle, one that caused her to jump and nearly drop her empty mug. However, the girl in the loose hoodie and the old pajama shorts managed to recover the mug, letting out a sharp breath. MJ brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, one that had escaped from her messy ponytail, and inhaled deeply in order to calm herself. Her nerves were always slightly frazzled when she was left alone at night, and she needed to snap out of it.

MJ poured her tea, letting the smell of chamomile and vanilla wash over her for a moment as the earthenware of her mug warmed her hands. She was fine, she told herself. She was just tired, and emotionally exhausted.

But she wasn’t going to go crawling back to him, she told herself. She would wait, wait until he realized what she had realized forever ago-- that he was not going to lose this over some dumb fight. But she did not want to speak to him about it until she was sure he felt the same.

MJ held the mug close, walking down the hall towards her small bedroom. She made sure to turn off the lights as she approached her room so that she would not have to turn anything else off before bed, except for the bathroom light across the hall. Once she had done all of this, MJ finally clutched her mug in one hand and turned towards her room, slipping inside. Her movements were as quiet as possible so that she had a chance to bask in the silence, let it wash over her and drown out all thought. She just needed to read and go to bed, take the night as a chance to unwind and forget.

All thought of relaxation was driven from her mind as MJ shut her bedroom door, revealing a figure standing behind it, drenched in scarlet.

MJ’s whole body clenched, ever muscle pulled as tightly as it would go as shock poured over her like ice water. This time, the mug did slip from between her fingers, tumbling to the ground and shattering. The hot water was painful against her cold feet, causing MJ to leap backwards, away from the silhouette in her shadowy room. She could not seem to scream or cry out, and MJ knew no one would come even if she did.

But then, her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and the figure in the darkness became a familiar one. Because beneath the blood, beneath what looked like a second skin of ash and dust, she could see what had once been red and blue fabric, and the eyes that stared at her with an empty, mechanical expression were eyes that had been manufactured by Tony Stark, and they had once been white rather than spattered with crimson droplets.

“Peter?” MJ found herself saying, her mind not on the pain in her feet or the shards of pottery on the floor. Her mind spun, focusing on the blood... So much blood. She had to try and fix it, fix him. “Peter-- come on, we’ve got to get you sitting down, you’ll bleed out-” 

MJ moved to help him, but then Peter spoke, and her heart broke in her chest. His voice was constricted, hoarse, raw in a way that only came from hours of screaming one’s lungs out. “N-no... No, MJ. It’s not--” His voice cut off completely then, a sound so painful to MJ that she felt a twinge of pain in her chest. “It’s not m-mine.”

Now that MJ’s eyes were adjusted to the darkness, she could more clearly discern his form in the darkness of her room. He was shaking, trembling like a leaf, and that was it. MJ stepped over the broken mug, ignoring the tenderness of the skin on her feet as she slid beneath his arm. She could feel something warm and sticky sliding onto her skin, soaking into her clothing from his, but she did not seem to care. Instead, she crossed the room and led him to her bed, where she lowered him onto the gray coverlet.

“N...No,” he protested in that same hoarse voice, though it seemed slightly less empty. At least those mechanical eyes were moving to mimic his expression, now, and they looked slightly less hollow. “Your bed-”

“Parker, I don’t give a damn,” she murmured, though her voice was gentler than normal as she lowered him to the bed.

Peter finally allowed himself to keep from protesting as she lay his head on her pillow. After a few seconds, she could hear him exhale from inside his mask. MJ began to remove it, freeing his face from the fabric, and her heart only ached more. His eyes were closed, but they were puffy and swollen. There was no color in Peter’s face, and the pallor only made his cracked, scabbed lips look even more painful to her. There was a bruise blossoming along the side of his cheek, and MJ’s fingers flew to this first, caressing it before she could regain control of the actions.

Even in his state, Peter leaned into the touch, and she watched as those painful lips moved to form a sentence. “You... Were right. You’re always right, I should have told--”

“No,” she found herself saying, and now MJ’s own chest was tight as she she stood, focusing on the suit that was clinging to his body now. “Stop that. I don’t want to hear it right now. I need you to tell me what’s wrong, so I can fix it.”

Peter winced as she fumbled to press the button on his chest, causing the suit to balloon around him before she began to work it off. “There’s... Nothing life-threatening,” he whispered as MJ removed the cloth from his skin, revealing a chiseled chest that glistened with red. “Just some bruised ribs, a few second-degree burns, and some cuts. Nothing else. But they--”

“They? Who is they?” MJ pressed as she finally managed to remove the suuit from his weakened limbs. He was almost fully undressed except for his boxers, but MJ was not thinking anything about that right now. At the moment, she only needed to make sure that he was okay.

“The people in the... In the building collapse.”

The words caused MJ to let out a sharp breath, and for a moment, she paused. Her hand moved down to his own, which was covered in grime with filthy and ragged nails, despite the fact that his fingers had been covered by the suit. MJ suspected that something extremely sharp had pierced the suit, and that he had used his own nails to try and dig someone out from the rubble.

She did not know what to say for a moment as she laced her fingers with his, gripping it tightly. “Parker...”

“I should have told you.” The boy’s dirty face was screwed up in an expression of the deepest pain, and MJ could see tears in his eyes now. “Maybe if you were there, on the headset, or Ned-” 

“You did the best you could,” she interrupted, her voice firm. Still, MJ could not just stand idly by him. She slowly climbed into the bed, and for a moment, she sat beside him with his hand in her own.

“The best I could do was nothing,” Peter spat, and MJ had never heard such bitter venom in the gentle boy’s tone. “I moved stone, I dug in the rubble, I pulled person after person out of there after putting out the fire-” His voice broke, and his hand trembled violently in her own as she held it tighter. “And they were all gone. I did nothing.”

MJ felt her heart break with his voice, and for a moment, she just looked at him, at brown eyes that were shattered and hollow as tears slipped free of them. After a moment, MJ lowered herself to the mattress, laying beside him. For a moment, all she could see was surprise in his eyes-- and then, she was pulling him close, and she felt his muscles go limp as he buried his face in the curls that had slipped loose of her ponytail.

She could feel his body shaking, heaving with sobs. MJ held him close, allowing his arms to snake around her neck and pull her closer. She did not care that his body was clammy with sweat or smelled like ash and singed flesh. All that she cared about was him, about the fact that he was breaking, and MJ would be damned if she let him hurt without anyone else there.

He was falling apart, and she was going to help hold the pieces together.

She was not sure how long they lay there together, just the two of them in a mess of tangled limbs, embracing as the world fell apart around them and blood soaked from his skin into her clothing. But what she was sure of was that she was not going to let him go, no matter what. This was so much more important than a single fight.

After a while, Peter finally spoke up, his breath warm against her mess of hair. “I’m still sorry.” 

MJ let out a breath as she held him closer. “I know you are. But you were right, too.”

She felt him stiffen, and then his neck was craning up to look at her as they lay next to each other. “What do you mean?” he murmured, his voice conflicted. “MJ, this did nothing but prove your point-”

“And yours,” she murmured, allowing herself to look into those deep, soulful eyes. “Because I don’t have any idea what your world is like, and it wasn’t fair of me to try and push you to let me into it.”

He was quiet for a moment, and then MJ felt one of his hands find her own in the mess of their embrace. She caught her breath, and suddenly her heart was hammering in her chest.

“But I want you in my world, MJ, and I’m willing to risk it for you. Only you.”

She could not breathe, and suddenly MJ was all too aware of their proximity to one another. It had not phased her when she was trying to help him, to soothe his pain, but now that he was talking about her... Suddenly his hand sent tingles up her own arm, and she could feel warmth flooding her cheeks.

“MJ?” When he spoke her name, there was worry in his tone. He began to remove his arms from around her neck, as if he was worried he had inconvenienced her. “I... Look, I can leave, if you need me to. I-I shouldn’t have said anything”

“No,” she whispered, and MJ found herself only holding him closer. “No... Don’t leave."

His arms returned to their place around her neck, and MJ let out a sigh of relief as he did so. She felt his arms tighten a fraction of an inch around her neck. “What... Did you miss this?”

MJ held him close, her mind reeling. He had gone into a building collapse, and they had been fighting about something so, so stupid. One wrong move, one unstable piece of stone, and he could have been buried with all of them... And she would have still been waiting for him to come back so she could hit him with an ‘I told you so.’ She had come so close to losing him.

So, in order to answer his question, MJ thought for a moment. “What, the hugs?” she asked. “They’re good, yeah. But no... I didn’t miss them. Only you.”

[literature-works]

Story Excerpt: Arrested

Hey everyone! This is a small section of a story I had written long ago. It was supposed to be a two shot. I found it scrolling through my many many documents so I figured I would post it (though unfinished). 

I had gotten the idea to write this while I battled with some PTSD a few years ago. I thought that what Edward went through in the Promised Day (and honestly his entire life) wouldn’t be easy to bounce back from. A life full of danger like he had would take its toll and probably result in some PTSD. It is a hard thing to deal with and is very different for every person. So I decided to write something that I was experiencing at the time. I don’t think there is any triggers as it is more of a coming to terms thing but just be cautious reading it.

This story takes place a few years after the promised day and Edward is struggling to admit he needs help. Roy ends up getting a phone call by the police after a supposed armed robbery at the Elric’s residence. It only came out to be a simple misunderstanding. 

Roy sighed to himself as he stepped out of his car in a whirl of red and blue lights. Civilians heads were poking out of their own apartment windows wondering what was going on in the building next door. For all they knew it could have been a robbery, a murder, but Roy knew it was more simple than that. It was a misunderstanding. Alphonse Elric sat outside of the apartment building on one of the wooden park benches, with his hands behind his back in restraints. Two police officers were on him at all times making sure that the suspected criminal didn’t run away. He was looking a little worse for wear with a bruise on his head and an annoyed look in his golden eyes. Roy could tell that it was bad.

“Major General Mustang,” he heard a voice call out to him. It was the head chief in the investigation who had called him down by the victim’s request. He was there in the long hours of the night to set things straight.

“Take me to him,” Roy said with light aggravation as this wasn’t the first time the Elrics had accidentally gotten the police involved in something stupid but he was bound to make it their last.

“He is upstairs in their apartment. Please tell me this isn’t just another misunderstanding-”

“It is, officer. I don’t have to talk to them to know it,” Roy sighed.

“Ugh. Well, at least we are getting paid overtime for this,” the cheif huffed to himself as he led Mustang into the apartment complex and up the stairs to where the Elrics have been living peacefully for a couple years. The door was open when they got there, the hinges smashed off from forced entry. He knew that someone would have to pay for that and he hoped it wouldn’t be him. As Roy walked into the small and quaint little home he immediately saw Edward’s golden form sitting on the sofa being interrogated by the police officers there. He looked ruffled in his pajamas as his night shirt was buttoned up lopsided and his pants were half bloused. He looked a mess, but more importantly he looked scared and absolutely confused. When he caught sight of Roy an instant look of shame came over him and his eyes darted to the ground. He looked like a kid who got caught stealing a cookie out of the jar. Roy sighed as he walked over and lightly pushed one of the officers aside as he took their place in staring the elder Elric down.

“Elric. What happened this time-”

“Apparently nothing,” Edward mumbled under his breath. Roy heard how tired it was. Alphonse had told him that he wasn’t getting enough sleep lately because of nightmares. It wasn’t that unusual for Edward but Roy knew it had its toll and it seemed it was getting the better of him.

“Edward. You called the police. Something had to have happened-”

“Well obviously it didn’t. They don’t seem to believe me and it is obvious you don’t either. So nothing happened.”

“It doesn’t matter what they think. It doesn’t matter what I think, Edward. I want to hear what happened from you. What do you think happened?” Roy asked him, upset that the aggravation in his voice was showing through. He sounded like he was scolding him rather than asking him a simple question. Edward even flinched at the veracity of it. The kid was on edge as it was.

Edward looked up at him for a second, golden eyes meeting his black ones and Roy caught every emotion that he was struggling with for the past two years. The kid was falling apart, and he knew it, Edward just didn’t want to accept it. Looking away the kid sighed as his hands tugged lightly on the hem of his shirt. Roy waited patiently.

“I… I woke up from a nightmare and… I couldn’t go back to sleep. I was just sitting in my room with nothing to do but wait for morning when I heard something from outside. Alphonse was out so I am the only one here. I looked outside of my bedroom and I saw a strange man walking around my apartment. I called the police and then I took him out. He was holding a knife, Mustang. I couldn’t just wait for him to kill me!”

“I know Edward. And then the police came in and arrested him I assume right?” Roy asked him softly. Edward nodded his head.

“Yeah. And now they keep asking me why I called them. I just keep telling them the truth. That is what happened. You’ve got to believe me-”

“I do, Edward. I even saw the man who they caught and now I believe your story more than ever.”

“See? I told you-”

“It’s Alphonse. The person they have downstairs in handcuffs right now is your brother,” Roy told him stiffly and Edward froze in his spot as his mind started to slowly process what he told him. However, Roy continued on knowing that Edward was a genius and he would catch up. “Alphonse was the man who entered your apartment, Edward. He had the key. He was just coming back from a long day of traveling and was in the kitchen making a late dinner-”

“But he was not Alphonse! I would know my little brother when I saw him-” Edward retorted, his voice shaking ever so slightly and Roy knew he was scared, not for anyones safety, but for his own sanity. He was breaking down. He had witnessed the boy’s regression ever since the end of the promised day. It had started out as simple little things like being easily frightened, or forgetting he wasn’t in the military anymore and showing up for work. Then it got worse and Roy knew that Edward was really in trouble when he tried calling for Maes Hughes a few weeks earlier. Gracia was distressed and everyone worried for the former Fullmetal Alchemist.

“You are forgetting. Alphonse is no longer the suit of armor you remember. You returned him back to normal and he now looks like the man that you just got arrested. During the Promised Day you returned him to normal-”

“I think I would remember something like that-”

“You know what is happening, Edward. And you know that it isn't going to get better if you don't see someone about this! It is getting worse. You almost had your brother arrested tonight. Next you might accidentally kill him!" Roy scolded him but the weak humor that Edward had used for the past two years to defend himself from their accusation broke with his statement. After the fear, after his smile, the only thing left in him was anger. His eyes snapped cold and he pushed himself off of the couch where he was sitting and turned on him, rage burning through him.

"I would never do that Colonel! Don't even begin to suggest that I would do that! Nothing is going on! I am fine. I am fine!" Roy sighed as he put his hands on his knees and pushed himself up. He felt himself getting tired of this argument, one that he restated over and over again for two years. He needed to make this his last.

"I haven't been a Colonel for two years now. I know you would never want to hurt your brother, but let's look at the facts. You are forgetting, Edward. You called Gracia the other week asking for Maes Hughes who you know for a fact has been dead for almost 3 years. You show up to work because you still think you are a State Alchemist even though you can't do alchemy anymore. And you cannot even recognize your own brother because you forgot you turned him back to normal. You had him arrested because you thought he was intruding on his own house. He had a knife. You thought he was going to kill you. Edward, you were in the military and you are too well trained to lose a fight when your life comes on the line. If this misunderstanding went any further, what do you think would have happened?"

Roy knew it was coming but he still was amazed at how fast Edward could move. Edward's left fist drove right into his jaw, sending him backwards to the ground. Stars struck his vision as his face bloomed with pain. He forgot how hard the kid could punch. Thinking it was over, Roy started to push himself up but he saw Edward’s fist cocked back for another blow. It probably would have been the one to knock him unconscious if a police officer didn’t tackle Edward to the ground to stop the fight. The officer quickly slid a pair of cuffs over the kid’s wrists to restrain him. The kid kicked and spat the rage boiling over him. The officer held him down.

“I wouldn’t hurt him, Colonel!” he yelled. “I wouldn’t! I couldn’t! I-I” His screams died as a wave of sobs took over him. His fight weakened and soon he was reduced to a blubbering mess. Roy motioned to the officer and the man lightened up his hold. The man looked hesitantly down at Edward as if he was afraid he would attack him again, but eventually released the kid and stepped away. Roy knelt down next to where Edward was sobbing on the floor.

“Edward, you need to see someone. Everything will be alright, but you need to see someone about this.”

“I am su-supposed to be the older brother. I-I am supposed to help him!”

“There is no shame in seeing someone, Edward. You will be helping your brother by helping yourself.”

“But… but-“

“There are no buts about this. I am making you an appointment and you will go to it. For the sake of yourself, and for the sake of your brother, you will go.” Edward didn’t answer him, but the defeated look in his eyes was enough. The fear and frustration he had been facing over the last few years of denial finally gave way to submission. He knew it was for the best. Roy stood up and took a step away. He had finally won the fight, but he took no pride in it. The Elrics had suffered enough.

“Uncuff him. I think we have everything sorted out,” Roy ordered the guard before making his way through the shattered door. He had never wanted to see his youngest subordinate look like that, so worn and tired. He never knew anything that could beat the kid. Both of the Elrics were resilient and brave beyond any measure. When he first met them he doubted there was anything that could bring them down. He had never accounted that one of the things that could defeat Edward would be himself.

“General,” Roy heard Alphonse call out to him. He had barely made it outside before the kid was pouncing on him. The youngest Elric had been released, the police figuring out it was all a mistake. There was no damage done aside from the eye that Edward must have punched which had sealed shut in a black and blue mess on Alphonse’s face. Roy was relieved that nothing worse had happened to him. However, if these events continued to occur, Roy couldn’t guaranteed that nothing worse would happen.

“Did brother do that to you?” Alphonse asked him, pointing to the side of his face. Roy reached up and touched it, pain flickering faintly beneath his skin as he did so. It was not going to look pretty when morning came around.

“I deserved it,” Roy stated flatly. “Edward is going to be alright. I am going to make an appointment for him at the local clinic. I know the psychiatrist there and could probably squeeze in a short notice appointment tomorrow morning.”

“Finally,” Roy heard Alphonse sigh with relief. There seemed to be a weight that fallen off his shoulders. Though Roy struggled to help Edward over the years, Alphonse had the tougher end of the battle. Now, it was finally over. Roy reached out and rested his hand on the kid’s shoulder in reassurance.

“It will still be a long time till he is alright, but we are on our way,” Roy reminded him. “I need you to stay with him tonight. Don’t let him leave your sights.”

“Do you think he would do something?”

“No. But I do not want to take that chance. I will call you in the morning about a time and will pick you up.”

“Thank you, General,” Alphonse said, a small grateful smile on his face. “Really. Thank you.” Roy returned a tired smile before heading out to his car. He had a long drive home and a rather important phone call to make. He didn’t think he would be getting much sleep tonight.

000

[pllandcompany]

Don't You Remember? (Part Two)

Summary: A case hits home for both Roman and Logan.

Warnings: discussion of medical procedures, illness, eating disorders, cursing, mention of past addiction, past minor character death, grief, I swear it's not all sad

Pairings: Platonic Logince, Platonic Analogical, nothing else intended but feel free to ship what you see

Tagged: @ziallwarrior  @thefallendog  @jakesmolbean  @a-ghosts @band-be-boss-blog  @thecatchat  @flyingfreeyt  @apologieslogan

Notes: And here's Part Two (finally)! Just a reminder to heed the warnings, some sensitive subject matter is discussed. As always, feedback is appreciated! Link to Part One is here.

In the week that passed, Roman returned to work although he was nowhere near his usual self. He became more and more irritable as his brother's surgery date approached, hounding Logan almost every day about his plan for surgery and what techniques and equipment he would use. They were having one of these "prep" sessions in the skills lab when Virgil came in and dropped a bomb that almost blew up everything.

"The tissue is going to be friable, Logan-"

"Dr. Taylor, please." He was getting really sick of correcting everyone around here. Why couldn't they just respect his request to remain professional and detached? It certainly prevented out of control moments like this one when emotions ruled one's behavior as opposed to logic.

"Anyway! The tissue will be friable, his heart muscle is weakened so you'll have to adjust your suture technique. And use the vicryl instead of the silk, it holds better, if you know what you're doing, you should have less bleeding."

"I do know what I am doing, Dr. Courtland, this is not the first time I have inserted a pacemaker."

"Well, it's the first time you've done it on my brother so forgive me if I want to make sure you don't butcher it!"

Logan took several deep breaths to abate the frustration that was building in his chest. "With all due respect, Dr. Courtland, you are being incorrigible."

"And you're being obtuse, Jarvis! He is my brother! My family! My flesh and blood! And I am not losing him behind your screw-up because you're too proud to practice! So go again and try not to puncture the dummy's heart this time!" Logan looked down and realized his scalpel was hovering dangerously close above the center of the plastic heart and his grip on the instrument was white-knuckled. He must have picked it up in his blind rage and that realization terrified the cardiologist. He swallowed nervously, trying to squelch the panic response but not being in an actual OR relaxed his resolve too much and he began to pant anxiously. Roman was about to rip into him again for daring to get worked up when Virgil entered in a rush, not realizing what he was walking into.

"Sorry, dude, I got caught up with a thousand intern questions, we can still make the meeting if we hurry...uh...everything okay, guys?"

"No! The good doctor here was just getting ready to kill our practice patient with a 10-blade and his crappy attitude!" Roman sneered in Logans direction, hands on his hips.

"Whoa, I heard yelling! What's going on here, Virg?" Patton stepped in at that point, pausing on his way to the cafeteria when he caught wind of Roman's shouting. "They're at each others' throats prepping for Remy's surgery," Virgil whispered to the fetal surgeon who closed his eyes and sighed tiredly. "This has been going on all week, guys, and you're not accomplishing anything. Let's try to calm down." Neither one of them even acknowledged Patton's admonishings, the headstrong cardiologist snapping back at Roman with a vengeance.

"He is my patient, not yours, you pompous ass! I am the one responsible for his welfare!"

"I am going to say this again and hopefully you'll get it through your thick skull: He. Is. My. Brother! You think I'm not responsible too?! Why the hell do you think I'm here making sure you don't screw this up to high heaven? And what meeting are you even talking about, Virgil? It's Tuesday, attendings have no meetings."

Virgil and Logan froze in place, setting off alarm bells in Roman's head. "Virgil. What meeting...are you talking about?" Silence persisted. "ANSWER ME!"

Logan was the first to speak up. "He means an NA meeting, Dr. Courtland. Dr. Davidson and I have been attending NA meetings together...because I am a recovering addict." Roman couldn't believe what he was hearing; he froze trying to process the shocking information. Suddenly, something came together in his brain. "So this is why you took time off from Hopkins. Because you have a drug problem so bad that you couldn't even practice medicine!"

"He's clean, Courtland, chill. First thing I did was test him." Logan winced at the admission; he was hoping Virgil wouldn't have needed to use that information although he did warn him that he would if he felt it necessary. Virgil wouldn't have disclosed that flippantly and Logan knew that but still...

Absolutely humiliating.

"Roman," Patton warned, "stay calm. Let him explain."

"No, save it, Patton. That settles it. Not only do I want a different surgeon, I want a damn good explanation as to why you two were keeping this secret from me!"

"To avoid this reaction exactly!" Virgil yelled back. "Dr. Taylor is excellent and you know it! You're just freaking out because it's your brother!"

"I am not having my own family operated on by a JUNKIE!"

"Roman, you need to back the hell down!!" Virgil was ready to jump in Roman's face had Patton not been there to hold him back. "Virg, stop! Everyone, please just calm down and let Dr. Taylor explain!"

Logan stood to meet Roman's eyes directly, mustering all of the authority in his bones. "That won't be necessary, Dr. Parker. Dr. Courtland may fire me if he so chooses. He can learn to live with the fact that he chose a lesser doctor based on his own prejudice as opposed to what's best for his beloved family. He can learn to live with the truth that regardless of my history, I am and will remain the best cardiothroacic surgeon in this hospital, probably in this entire area. For that reason alone, I am your brother's best chance at survival. But let's take it a step further. Not only am I more than skilled enough to save him, my drug-riddled past makes me uniquely qualified to treat him. You see, Doctor, I've been where he is. I've been sick and dying in a hospital bed with hardly any will to live and I came back from it! I came all the way back from that hell and saved not only my life but countless lives after! If you think that doesn't matter to me, if you think that doesn't make me take every SECOND of this case very seriously, then you, Dr. Courtland, mistake me. I am not a robot. This is very personal and that is what makes me excellent!" A thick blanket of silence coated the room as Roman visibly trembled from shame and residual anger. Patton and Virgil both had tears in their eyes, moved by the honesty of Logan's words. Roman finally ended the uncomfortable moment, sheathing his metaphorical sword and deferring his hubris to Dr. Taylor. "Very well then," he began, voice hoarse with concession, "you may...you may stay on this...my brother's case. I'm- I'm going to go...back to work." Roman made haste to his office while the others watched still frozen in shock. Logan closed his eyes and began to pace his breathing, bringing himself back under his usual rigid control.

"Virgil? Do we still have time for that meeting?" Logan whispered.

"Yeah, buddy," Virgil sighed. "We'll make time." Suddenly, Patton let out a sob. "Pat? Are you all right? What is it?"

"I just...I never knew...and all those times we pushed you to tell us what happened at Hopkins...I'm so sorry you went through that, Logan. And-and I'm so glad you're okay!" Patton broke down on his last sentence. Logan's mouth formed a thin line, feeling terribly uncomfortable with the whole dramatic, emotional situation he just caused. Between the argument and his outburst, the cardiologist had no idea how he was meant to salvage his reputation. Up to this point, he had successfully managed to remain an island amongst himself, impervious to people and their prying ways. Until Sanders-Stokes Memorial. The people here? Well, they seemed damned determined to get under his skin.

He'd never admit it but maybe, just maybe, a little part of him didn't mind.

Logan stepped forward and placed a tentative hand on the crying fetal surgeon's shoulder. Patton's head whipped around to stare at the unexpected touch. "Yes, I am okay...I hope...this is comforting to you, Dr. Parker? Um...Pat-Patton, I mean."

Both doctors stared at him in disbelief for a brief moment. They shared a glance and Patton broke into a watery laugh, Virgil chuckling quietly next to him. "Oh my God, yeah, you're doing just fine. Go to your meeting so your spirits don't get too low...gan."

Virgil and Logan groaned in unison as they both left.

****

To the relief of everyone close to Roman Courtland, Remy's surgery went off without a hitch. Roman sat in the gallery and watched the whole thing while Logan worked deftly and efficiently, placing the pacemaker in record time while still being his most careful. Roman had to admit, he hadn't had the chance to witness the cardio surgeon work and he was truly impressed. Logan really knew his stuff. And he was definitely tough too to have fought back from everything he struggled with to get to where he was now and...

Damn it.

Roman had to apologize. That realization is what brought him to the door of Logan Taylor's office with his metaphorical tail between his legs. Logan looked up over his reading glasses when he heard the knock on the door, bracing himself for another argument.

"Dr. Courtland. You'll be satisfied to know that I'm reviewing your brother's post-op labs now and they are holding steady. He seems to be thriving after surgery."

"Oh, yes, I saw him just a while ago, he's awake and responsive. He looks good considering, yes...anyway I...I just- I wanted to...say thank you? For saving his life. I know he has a long way to go but the fact that he can go anywhere at all is because of you so...thank you."

"It is no matter, Dr. Courtland. It is my job to save lives, I was merely doing that."

"I know and very well, might I add, I watched from the gallery and you were...are...just thank you. And also...I'm sorry. I was...awful to you, just horrible and I meant none of it. You didn't deserve the way I treated you at all and I am deeply and genuinely sorry."

Logan set down the file in his hands and sighed, leveling Roman with an intense look. "Patton told me that you were behaving strangely due to your experiencing feelings of intense grief. But besides from our first encounter with him, your brother was not in any exorbitant amount of danger or emergency that would have threatened his life. He was treated effectively and now has a positive prognosis due to swift medical intervention. I am...confused as to how to you began to grieve someone who hadn't even been lost. Unless..." Roman just stared at the carpet, suddenly fixated with the swirling patterns on the floor. "It wasn't your brother you were grieving, was it?"

Roman sat on the couch next to him and took a few grounding breaths before he spoke. "I lost my dad when he and I both were too young for any of this to happen. But Alzheimer's? It's an unforgiving and greedy disease. It sneaks up on you and your family and takes things from you one by one before you can even realize they're gone. By the time you know it's there, it's got almost everything. And you're left with...with nothing."

Roman froze for a split second before completely bursting into tears. "I mi-miss my dad...so much. Every day I miss him." Logan stood slowly and tiptoed his way over to the sobbing surgeon, perching hesitantly next to him. "Dr. Courtland...I am sorry, I never knew. When did he die?"

Roman wiped his face on his jacket, steadying himself with another deep breath. "It was years ago but some days, it feels like I got the call just yesterday."

Years ago? But why? How is this still affecting him so much? Logan was at a loss, no pun intended. Aside from its textbook definition, grief was not a familiar process to him. Despite his confusion, he allowed Roman to continue. "I was in high school when he was diagnosed. He died my sophomore year of college. Six months later, Remy got hospitalized for the first time."

Finally, something in Logan clicked. "And you had no time to process his death."

Roman smiled shyly at the cardiologist. "I...I guess not. My older brother was away at college for most of the time Dad was sick so taking care of him was me and my mom's job. And when she got overwhelmed and couldn't take care of herself, I did that too. I made sure there was dinner, that my little brothers' homework was done, that everyone stayed healthy. And then when everyone was asleep, I studied. First I would do my normal homework then I would research Alzheimer's and neuroscience for hours. I sort of had this naive thought that I would become the brilliant, young doctor that cured Alzheimer's and the first person I would fix would be my father. Then he died and Remy got so bad that he needed someone to take care of him so once again, I stepped up. I had to, I wasn't-wasn't...I wasn't losing him too. And he got better after a while, he was fine or so I thought until now...this week, I was just scared. Of facing the thought of losing Remy again."

"Of facing the loss of your father again." Logan whispered, making Roman pause for a moment before nodding. "Yeah...that too."

"Dr. Courtland. I do not have words to say that will assuage your grief. You know as well as I do that pain from grieving is only helped with time and acknowledgement, to both of which I think you could devote more of yourself. However, I do understand what it means to be under pressure placed on you by your family and to be able to withstand all of what you have and still maintain positivity and grace is...impressive. It is the mark of a very good man."

"But Remy-"

"-is a product of his own pain. Not your perceived shortcomings. You didn't fail him. Unlike me, you didn't crack under the pressure, you rose up."

"Hey, neither did you," Roman turned and placed a hand on Dr. Taylor's knee briefly, removing it and flopping his hands in his lap when he felt muscles tense up underneath his palm. "You are not weak for having an addiction and you're definitely not weak for getting sober. I'm sorry if I made you feel that way."

"I- I don't-"

"You've been going to meetings for a reason, Dr. Taylor. Something about treating my brother was hard for you and battling that on top of my petulance had to be overwhelming."

Logan stiffened slightly, uncomfortable with being read so easily. "You people here certainly have a way of invading one's privacy, my goodness."

"Well, Patton and Virgil have unusually high emotional intelligence for surgeons and I'm literally a brain ninja so there you have it! If it makes you feel any better, your secrets are definitely safe with us."

Logan pursed his lips in thought. "Fine. I will admit there were...moments that challenged me but I would absolutely do it again and again if it meant saving a life. I owe it to the universe for seeing it fit to save mine." Roman smiled warmly, nodding his head in silent agreement. "Well, I'd do everything again except for arguing with you, that part was extremely frustrating," Logan remarked dryly. Roman's stunned expression was met with a powerful smirk from the cardiologist and he couldn't help but let out a boisterous chuckle. "The good doctor knows sarcasm! Gotta say, I was not expecting that from you but I suppose I had that coming."

Logan's smirk faded into a look of understanding. "Do not worry. It is, how Dr. Parker would say...water under the bridge. I hold no resentment towards you."

Roman smiled again, more reserved this time as he amped himself up to ask his last question. "I'm glad. May I ask one more favor of you, though? Before I wear out my welcome?" He laughed nervously, drawing a curious look from Logan.

"You may ask although your apprehension concerns me."

"It's not bad, I promise, I just...could you..? Do you mind talking to Remy with me? About recovery, I mean? I know he said he would try this time with treatment but he's said that before and maybe hearing it from someone who's been there may, I don't know, inspire him to take it seriously? But if it's too much or awkward or something, don't worry about it. Forget I said anything, actually, I just need to be on him this time-"

"Roman." His name was called with such a gentle authority that it stole the neurologist's breath. Logan leaned over and with a trembling hand and tears in his eyes grabbed the stunned doctor's knee. Roman made a mental note that touch was to be initiated on his (associate's? Friend's?) colleague's terms in the future. Right now, he reveled on the fact that it was happening at all. Logan cleared his throat and eyes to speak again, the words healing both of them from this trying ordeal.

"Absolutely, Roman. I would love to."