#if it involves test tube which it would.. I will need more test tube focused talking points

[lanciilatte]

Cabby’s Gaps in Understanding

These scenes.

Are the parallels of all time. I think it was absolutely intentional that their ‘niche intelligences’ were explained in this exact order on these separate, very important occasions. Cabby thinks Test Tube and Fan are defined by these intelligences, and acknowledges that it was reductive to discredit Test Tube later on.

They’re stronger together and made a rash decision out of how much they care for each other. This results in TBD being made, and TBD’s existence is the one thing that stumps Cabby. Cabby cannot understand using all the potential behind combined strength to make an emotional decision. She doesn’t realize Fan and Test Tube doing this is a possibility, nor does she understand Test Tube throwing away that potential due to emotions brought out by the situation.

There’s an emotional reaction on her part to this too. She wants to experience this bond and combined strength very badly. She wants to believe she can experience it, even though it probably would not come naturally. Of course it wouldn’t, as though she regards it as ‘something warmer’, she also mentions how it’s ‘more subjective’. Considering how much of her image and sense of self is lauded as objective and factual, this is a big deal.

She’s so fascinating in that way, that what she clearly wants more than anything is the one thing that trips her up. She can categorize people all she wants into whatever boxes she can think of. But she can’t understand anyone not chasing the thing she desperately wants. Especially if they threw the potential away for a reason like Test Tube’s: because of emotions stirred up by the immediate circumstances. That’s an uncomfortable prospect for her, that unpredictability you have to trust as a part of yourself, since it’s what you really feel. That might be one of the most uncomfortable things for her full stop. She can’t understand stifling the potential to achieve something she desperately wants for that reason. But then we run into another problem, she doesn’t know how to openly discuss achieving that connection. It’s something she can’t even talk about comfortably without relying on someone else’s expression of feelings to draw from. Even when outlining a strategy with objective information, which is the definition of her comfort zone.

Now it’s caused a problem in her research, in her game plan. It’s gotten her eliminated and it’s gotten her nowhere with the biggest mystery/challenge to her database we’ve seen her tackle. But research has nothing to do with her goals, other than to be insurance that things never get too far off course. Though it is very telling that one of the clearest signs of her sense of lack is how it interferes with her research. How it interferes with her database, because the easiest way for her to realize a sense of lack in herself is through an extension of herself, right? Her files are that extension of herself.

This idea of her knowledge being all that she sees or presents herself as is not concrete yet. But consider everything else and her elaboration being “I am a piece, Test Tube is a piece, and our combined strength is—was… a piece.” There’s all this strategy and ‘sake of the game’ talk, but she’s really trying to reflect on the feelings brought out in both herself, Test Tube, and everyone else. She has to ‘evenly divide’ the moving parts of the situation in order to justify how she feels about it. She has to evenly divide people to understand them, she approaches the social aspect of the game in the way she knows how. She frames it like it only makes sense to do so, but deep down she puts so much of herself into her writing because she wants to understand others. “To understand them” is the reason she gives for making files on people. She could’ve elaborated if she wanted to… But she preferred to leave the reason unstated and move on. Before we can delve into that idea, we need to detail Cabby’s own understanding of herself first.

She more-so sees people as what they do, and their actions rather than who they are. Whether she views herself that way and then applied it to others or the other way around I don’t know. But she definitely makes a habit out of keeping track of peoples’ habits. She doesn’t just do it to pass time, she’s fascinated by it. She’s fascinated for the wrong reasons though, as a true logician fuelled by information would not be so comfortable with predictability. She’s not only comfortable with it, but depends on it to understand the whole set of said knowledge. This is all very similar to Fan, however she is far less inclined to include others’ emotion in her fascination or perception. In Cabby’s database, Clover can be a ‘sweet girl’ but she cannot be a ‘source of sweetness’ or ‘someone who makes me feel me sweetness.’ There’s no spontaneous action involved, only a type of person.

All this is to say: I think Cabby can understand certain emotions driving your actions, but those actions all have to be rational and controlled. She doesn’t understand emotions being a large part of the decision or action itself. This is what consistently trips her up. She can account for the base emotional state of people, but not what they’ll do when emotions that suddenly arise in them or change unpredictably are involved. What someone will do ‘under pressure.’ Not following the same patterns over and over. She can understand the patterns she sees, she can’t understand that everyone is a unique example of the ‘type of person’ she sees them as. I’d say this is where Cabby and Fan’s insular perspectives line up and then diverge again. Cabby plays with accurate information she’s perceived and that’s the fun part. Fan has fun with perceiving information without that close consideration to accuracy, since trivia is more of a decoration to him. For Cabby, she is a decoration to the trivia. She needs to perceive things objectively and accurately for her own pride, and she needs to preserve this information in order to put it to use. Because of course her understanding needs to be useful, to be helpful, otherwise she’d be doing it for the sake of knowledge. What she extra doesn’t understand is that if she’s doing this for own reasons, for pride or for a clear end result being a comfort, she’s already been making rash decisions fuelled by emotion. She’s making ill-advised decisions and *mistakes* by disregarding her own fallibility. There’s no way she can always keep up this image when that image has an emotional strain and her goals don’t take into account how to mend emotional struggles. The thing is, her emotional struggles or even her mistakes aren’t something she looks away from. She just doesn’t know what she’s looking at, or what she brings to the table that she would rather get from other people’s input. She doesn’t know it, nor can she begin to express it yet, but she has her own warmth inside her objectivity, she doesn’t need to gain that ability from someone else. She could win people over if she showed up as the ‘girl who puts herself into her database to calm herself and help others’ and not the ‘girl who cares more about her files than anyone, including herself, so imagine how she feels about *you*.’

The number one decision she needed to be making, is the kind of decision she can’t fathom someone else making. Acting upon a spontaneous desire to help someone, no matter if you have the perfect plan or even a plan that makes sense. Or, in the competition sense, helping people through their problem instead of keeping track of their problem just running its course. Looking out for the team in an honest and upfront way, instead of waiting for that perfect ally to come along and spark a change. This is especially unrealistic since a ‘perfect ally’ for her would have to be one that’s earned her respect and given her new insight. Cabby makes that very difficult to accomplish, in fact, she makes it harder every single time she seeks out information on her own.

But she could do so much good if she just realized that. She’s already done a lot of good without directly intending it. Cabby’s research is what gets Clover to question how she lives her life. She kickstarts Clover’s entire arc. Cabby’s research is also what helps TBD start looking for answers, and one of the things that let her know Test Tube was hiding something regarding those answers.

She overall needs to become more comfortable with spontaneity related to both emotions and information. If she were comfortable with that, then her needing ‘constant input from other people to feel alive’ wouldn’t result in her looking at people reductively. If she stopped looking at people reductively, she could see them more as ongoing projects, not instalments in the history of her perception. Then, finally, she could see that she herself is one of those ongoing projects that can be fulfilled by warmth and efforts to change for good. Not just reliability when things go wrong, but taking initiative in making things right.

Since she still just ‘wants to win people over’, she’s still figuring out what all the moving pieces are. The ‘why’ and ‘what’ she did wrong. But she wouldn’t have gotten to this point so easily if she didn’t care about how others felt. She cares that her mistakes hurt people, that’s why she’s reevaluating her thought process immediately after being shown that was the case. She wants to make things right, but she has to step out of her comfort zone to do it, and understand that ‘right’ changes in an instant from situation to situation, person to person. But she’s been shown her impact, and she readily accepts it once she stops clarifying her intent. That’s a great start. It’s the same start that Test Tube made once. I’m confident it’s the start of something better, considering the way she found out she was wrong is that she’s upset people outside of ‘the sake of the game’, that says a lot! It definitely couldn’t have been because her pride was damaged, since she was kind of really frantic and openly kinda pathetic while grasping at more answers during her last moments on the show. If only she knew the gap in her understanding that’s damaged her pride beyond caring for it is directly linked to the one damaging her growth. I would love to see these ideas linked again if Cabby and TBD are truly acquainted one day! Acquainted, or able to meet as friends who learn from each other, not as a mystery or problem to solve. That would be the perfect resolution to Test Tube realizing she made Cabby’s mistake before she could learn who TBD really was.

[anthonypaulh]

ITP SEPTEMBER AWARENESS CAMPAIGN

The 2024 Global ITP September Awareness Campaign is suddenly upon us again, running from September 23rd to the 29th 

Here’s why it is so important and why we should get involved. 

WHY IS ITP SEPTEMBER AWARENESS  IMPORTANT ?

One of the many things that I have taken from my 18 year ITP journey is that we need to make more people aware of this rare illness. Like most ITP sufferers, before I was diagnosed I had never heard of it. 

After my diagnosis, I couldn’t believe I had anything as serious as ITP. I thought the hospital had made a mistake. Possibly they had confused my blood test results with somebody else ! 

I frequently asked myself - Why me, how can I have ITP ? I have never been ill before, never smoked, never taken any drugs and always drank alcohol in moderation. 

Well, so what ? ITP does not care who it chooses and when. It can develop in anyone at anytime at any age and of any ethnicity, although we do know that it occurs more in women than men. In short, ITP is not terribly fussy, we are all fair game. 

In adults it is usually more stubborn than in children. It tends to disappear (often without treatment) in many children, as suddenly as it turns up. In adults it is rarer to see it go into spontaneous remission. But we can still live very full and positive lives.

SPREADING AWARENESS  GETS RESULTS 

There are plenty of grounds for optimism and it is clear that our ITP Awareness campaigns have borne fruit. When the annual September campaign started back in 2010 things on the purple front were very different.

Looking back to 2006 and my diagnosis there were far fewer treatments available for ITP (For example - TPO drugs had not been rolled out) few support groups, and limited numbers of blogs, social media groups, vlogs, let alone research on the scale we have now. 

Until the TPO drugs were introduced the only treatments for ITP were not designed to treat ITP. All of the options were  borrowed from other illnesses/conditions. Now we have the TPO drugs specifically developed for the treatment of our condition. 

So things have improved dramatically and as evidence of this I would urge anyone living with ITP to watch the many video films on the ITP Support Association You Tube Channel which explain the many treatments now available. 

Also on the channel are the presentations made at the Annual Convention from May 2024 so you can view the most up to date developments in ITP from some of the leading Global experts.

The whole approach to ITP is so much more positive, more patient focused and inclusive. It is far more optimistic and encouraging.

Making an effort to spread awareness has undoubtedly played a big part in moving research, treatments & knowledge further forward. 

There is no better reason to get involved this September than knowing any contribution we make is improving things for us living with ITP now, and helping those who may follow us in the years ahead.

However, we cannot be complacent, it is up to us to keep making others aware of our condition. We know what it is like to live with it and we can tell others what to expect. If we don’t inform people, then who will ? 

So please join in the September Awareness campaign, try to get involved even if it is to take just one or two small actions. 

ITP September Awareness week runs from September 23rd to the 29th 

USEFUL LINKS - 

GLOBAL ITP AWARENESS WEEK - 

ITP SUPPORT ASSOCIATION - YOU TUBE CHANNEL -

PLATELET DISORDER SUPPORT ASSOCIATION - 

ITP AUSTRALIA and NEW ZEALAND -

[votederpycausemufins]

The next chapter is going to be the last chapter. It’ll mostly end on a happy note, though there will be something at the end :3

@petrichormeraki @helleborusangel

Grian was glad to finally finish sorting through all the paperwork, narrowly missing Lynn arriving with another Watcher to discuss his kids. He dragged Grifter along with him and made a portal back to his base, glad that it seemed everything would be calm for a while. Until Grifter screamed.

Grian was sure it was just going to be a chicken left over from Hermit Challenges since those always seemed to appear at the worst times. Maybe someone wearing a chicken head who happened to be around. But instead, there was actually someone standing there. Someone Grian ever so vaguely recognized.

“H-hi there person I haven’t seen before. I’m Grian and that’s Grian and we cloned oursel-” Grifter quickly tried to say, but then freaked out as a chicken appeared next to him.

“Don’t lie. I already know what’s going on. I don’t like it, but you’ll get out mostly scott free. This time.”

“Ha ha ha... “ Grifter weakly laughed, glancing at the chicken to his side. “Hey, so is Mini-”

“Go home before I change my mind Ze.”

“Um, I actually changed it to-” Grifter started to speak before the chicken next to him hissed, making him jump and then make a portal back to helscraft.

Grian looked away from where his copy stood to where Punch was floating. As a Watcher, Grian could feel the death magic radiating off of the man. The man signaled to the chicken which hopped over to him and fluttered its way up to his lap where he pet it like a villain would their cat. “So. Xel I presume?”

After seeing how Punch had responded to Grifter correcting him, Grian just nodded. “Yeah.”

For a moment, the man just stared at Grian before smiling. “Well I’m sure you’re much better than my nephew. It’s a shame that your guide ignored you all those years ago.”

Grian had no clue what was being talked about. “Guide? What guide?”

“Something that could be discussed another time. You have more things to worry about. I’m sure your mother won’t be happy about me sticking around here too long, so I’ll leave you with a gift.” The man looked down to his chicken. “Kokatori, why not stay with Xelqua for a bit?” The chicken clucked once before hopping back down to the ground and standing next to Grian. “If anyone asks, you got it from a guy named Pablo.”

Punch looked like he was about to leave, but then at the last moment to turn back. “Oh, and by the way, I’d check your calendar if I were you. It’s currently May.”

Grian was left puzzled for a few moments as Punch disappeared. May? What did it currently being May have to do with anything. The only thing going on was closer to the end and- Grian pulled his comm out and checked the date. They had been so focused on the mess of the past week that Grian barely registered the days were actually passing. “I NEED TO FIND MUMBO!”

.

.

.

Mumbo watched as Grian was using Watcher magic to multitask. He had explained everything that happened while Grian was gone to him, and the builder was glad to be filled in, but before Mumbo could ask much, Grian pulled out a calendar, his communicator, a book, and also a lead which he put his new chicken on. “Grian, are you doing okay?”

“NO!” Grian stressfully shouted at Mumbo, making him take a step back. Had something happened? Was someone hurt again? Was it the boys? “I DON’T EVEN KNOW IF GRUM CAN EAT CAKE!”

“I’m… sorry what are you talking about?” Mumbo asked, a bit calmer but much more confused.

Grian thrust the calendar into Mumbo’s face. “It’s currently May 21st! We have less than a week to get everything ready!”

“Ready for…?”

“Are you- GRUM’S FIRST BIRTHDAY!”

Mumbo’s eyes widened at Grian answer. “Oh my word! That really is just around the corner, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I already had some plans in place of course but now it’s basically all out the window since there’s more family and friends involved to invite. Right now the only thing taken care of is presents!”

“Right, and did it get delivered?”

“Of course it did! I hid it in a por- I HID IT IN A PORTAL! THE BOYS COULD ACTUALLY GET THERE NOW!” Grian yelled, freaking out.

“Okay, calm down. It’s going to be fine. If we need to, we can hide it somewhere else. And I’m sure even if we don’t move it, it’s going to be perfectly fine. I doubt either of the boys will manage to get in there.” Mumbo did his best to calm Grian. “I know the boys wanted some people to visit today. Possibly you can get those people to come and we can find time to ask them more about who else the boys might have gotten close to and get a guest list that way.”

Grian was glad to finally finish sorting through all the paperwork, narrowly missing Lynn arriving with another Watcher to discuss his kids

Grian snapped his fingers at the idea before putting almost everything away. “That’s a great idea. Let me message Tommy on the change of plans. You said they wanted Fundy and Michael?”

“And Michael’s parent since he’s young. Parents? I’m not completely sure, I’m sure all those time problems didn’t help.”

“I’m sure they didn’t.” Grian remarked as he finished sending a message. “There. Now I guess we wait for Tommy to respond.” And he didn’t need to wait long as a message arrived. “Okay! He says I can pick them all up, though I might need to search a little for Fundy. But I’m sure he’ll want to visit Iskall at the very least.”

“Oh, that’s right! There’s one thing I forgot to mention.” Mumbo spoke up, making Grian’s head whip in his direction. “It’s maybe a little concerning, but I’m sure it will be fine. It… it just looks like Grum might be skittish around Iskall again. It makes sense after everything that happened of course, but better I remember to tell you now and not let you find out yourself.”

“I guess you’re right about it making sense. It sort of was like he got… void he got brainwashed again.”

“Hey, he managed to do well on his own. Might not be the best way to take after you, but it’s still good he took after your survival skills.”

“Oh ha ha. I don’t have survival skills.” Grian rolled his eyes. “The amount of times I’ve dive bombed or exploded myself. I mean, You know how many times I died testing my minigame mister ‘Watch This’.”

Mumbo chuckled for a moment. “Not one of my finer moments. But I meant about when you were growing up. I know it’s not your favorite time, but you made it through that part of your life. Grum was able to do the same.”

“I wish he didn’t have to. I wish neither of them got stuck there.”

“I’m sure no one did. But they did and got through it, and that’s what matters. So let’s just work on making sure they know everything’s fine now. Go pick up Tommy and the others.”

“Alright. And thanks for the talk Mumbo.”

“Always.”

.

.

.

Jrum was practically bouncing off the walls when he saw Michael. Grum was a bit more reserved, but was also pretty excited. It seemed Michael was a little nervous being in such a new place, but Jrum was quickly at the ziglin’s side to reassure him. To the side, Fundy was currently admiring the marvel that was the spawn area. Since Jrum had gone with their friend, Grum made his way to the hybrid. “Um, hi Fundy.”

“Wh- Oh hey Grum! How’re you doing?”

Grum rubbed his arm. “Better. Thank you for helping me out when everything was happening. You didn’t need to.”

“Of course I did. You’re a kid and what Dream was doing was seriously fucked up.” He got a look from Grum. “Well, okay. Maybe I wouldn’t have normally, but he kept getting me involved and Iskall knew you, so it was kind of different.”

“Well, thank you very much for that.” Grum said, hugging Fundy. “Well, I bet you want to see Iskall’s tree.”

“Oh hell yeah! Where’s the Omega Tree?”

Immediately Jrum was back next to them. “I can take him there! I’ll also see if Iskall is there or can get there soon! You can play with Michael while we’re gone!”

Grum nodded and looked to Michael. “Do you think that your parents will let you follow me through the nether to a place to play? I know a safe path and Dad assured me if something were to happen, you would absolutely safely respawn.”

Michael snorted before running over to Tubbo and Ranboo, interrupting their conversation with Tommy. Grum followed him over to elaborate on whatever he would say, or just translate in general. When they were told of the idea, Ranboo and Tubbo weren’t entirely sure about it, but Tommy put in a good word. “C’mon, Grian and Mumbo let the bots run around on their own all the time. This place is safe, so he’ll be fine.”

“I guess… but only if you two stick to the overworld. The nether might be faster, but it’s also dangerous.” Tubbo relented.

Grum thought it over. They would need to take a boat over to where they were going, and there would be a bit of a trek through the jungle, but there was a path they could take. “Of course! We will do what we can to stay as safe as possible. Now…” Grum pointed to the bubble elevator. “Up the tube!”

Michael followed behind Grum to get to the surface and the bot crafted up a boat for the two of them. As Grum rowed, Michael looked around at everything around them. Though there wasn’t too terribly much in the ocean in the direction they were headed, there were enough large builds that could still be seen to keep Michael in awe.

Eventually they landed and Grum led them through the jungle. “The best place to play is in Uncle Scar’s village. It's got plenty of buildings to work with and the style is perfect for games! And then nearbyish is Larry the snail and the magic arrow.”

Michael oinked a quick question and Grum elaborated as they walked. When they finally reached the village, Michael quickly ran into it and started exploring, Grum quickly following behind the ziglin. Though the buildings themselves were interesting, Michael decided the best thing were the small mushrooms that had built along the path.

“Yeah! My Daddy really likes those too. He also found a haunted bed when he owned the place for a bit. I wonder if it’s still haunted. Ooo!” Michael pretended to be scared before laughing, and then the two went off to play in the village together.

Back at spawn, Tommy was still chatting with Tubbo and Ranboo when Grian arrived. “Hey, have you guys seen my boys?”

“Yeah, Jrum took Fundy to Iskall’s and Grum went with Michael to play.” Tommy answered. “Why, is something wrong?”

“No, I was actually making sure they weren’t around.” Grian looked to Ranboo and Tubbo. “Are you two willing to come back with Michael in like five days? It’s going to be Grum’s birthday and maybe Michael can be one of the guests?”

“Oh hell yeah, you two need to come. It’ll be so pog!” Tommy said, hoping they would agree to visiting again.

“I guess we probably can, but it’ll also depend on how today goes.” Ranboo answered, Tubbo agreeing with him.

“Okay good.” Grian nodded, writing something down. He then looked over to Ranboo. “Do you have any idea some of the people the boys were close to when they were stuck over there?”

“Sometimes I barely remember my name.”

“Hmm, alright I guess I’ll have to ask Fundy.”

“Hey, I do know one thing.” Tommy piped up. “Or maybe two. Wil’s also a big music lover, so there might be something there. The other bit you probably aren’t going to like though.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine. What is it?”

“Pretty sure Grum’s favorite uncle is Techno now.”

Grian was just silent as he contemplated the answer. Tommy nervously glanced at his friends before taking a slight step back, worried about how exactly Grian would react. When the avian’s wings started puffing up, Tommy was sure they would need to run, but instead Grian just took a deep breath. “Alright. Fine. I was already planning to invite him since he’s family and all. Yep. It’s fine. Totally fine.”

“It doesn’t sound fine.” Tubbo spoke up, and Grian quickly looked at them with a glare, though he was still smiling.

“Nope. It’s absolutely completely fine.” Then Grian sighed. “Well, I guess I’m going to find Fundy and ask him some questions. If you think of anything else, just message me.”

Tommy agreed before the avian flew off and then looked to his friends. “Alright, so this is probably the best excuse to show you around the shopping district since I’m going to need to pick something up. And if you guys want to buy something, just say the word, I can spare some diamonds.”

“Are you sure? We could get our own-” Ranboo started to speak up, but got stopped by Tommy.

“Nah, don’t worry. I’ll probably earn back whatever I spend in like a week. Probably from one of the redstoners.” Then Tommy led them to the bubble column. “Now let’s go. Oh, and Ranboo, if you need some armor to help with the water, just grab one from one of the stands. That’s what they’re there for.”

“You mean… the full netherite armor?”

“Yep.”

“Something tells me even I won’t have trouble forgetting all of this.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Octa A-kun’s Heart-Thumping Day!

For the 1200+ follower milestone, here is the next part of the cursed raven’s story!

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5

Today’s tale involves Octavinelle A-kun in a pinch...?! Fight on, Octa A-kun...! You can do it, Octa A-kun...!!

My name is Kon...! I’m just your average, everyday Octavinelle student. I tend to blend into the background, so a lot of my classmates call me Octa A-kun.

I’d say that my favorite food is salted fish, and I happen to like whatever seems to be popular these days. I have the window seat in my home room. Most of the time, I just go with the flow, but I like to keep my head low and stay out of trouble!

All I really want is a quiet, peaceful life!

...So—you may ask—how, then, did I find myself in this pinch?

An arrow whizzes at Octa A-kun’s head, tearing off his fedora and pinning it to the wall behind him. It just narrowly grazes his hair, ripping off a deep green strand with a sharp jolt. Octa A-kun squeaks in terror and collapses onto his rear end.

“Pardon moi, Monsieur Kelp,” comes the light-hearted chirp of his assailant. A young man in a bob cut steps forth, a bow in his hands and a quiver strapped to his back. The billowy white feather tucked in his hat bounces with each stride. “I was in need of some early morning target practice.”

Third year and Pomefiore vice-dorm leader, Rook Hunt, according to the rumors. Be wary of him--once he fixates on something, he will not relent.

“A-Ahahaha...I-It’s fine, senpai!” Octa A-kun stutters, scrambling back onto his feet. He glances at his poor hat, skewered clean through--he’d have to file a request for a replacement later. Azul would charge a fee for it--with interest.

“Ah, how merciful you are, Monsieur Kelp~” Rook laughs as he approaches, each step in his boots the resounding thump-thump of a predator on the prowl.

Octa A-kun shrinks against the wall. “U-Um...! Do you need something from me, senpai...?!”

“Hohoh. How perceptive of you.” Rook plucks his arrow--and Octa A-kun’s hat--and holds his weapon up in the sunlight, his green eyes focusing on the gleam of the arrow’s dagger-like tip. “I’ve merely come for a query, my friend! No need to make such a frightened face.”

“Just a question i-is fine. But it has to be a quick one...! I have to meet up with my partner for a project...”

“But of course. I will not keep you for long.” He tucks the arrow back into his quiver and replaces Octa A-kun’s hat upon his head. “Be honest with me--that is all that I ask of you.”

Rook maintains the curve to his lips as he brings his face closer to his prey. His smile darkens, and the glimmer in his eyes fades into something far more cruel.

“...You would not happen to have been sent by one Roi de Fort, have you? To, perhaps, spy on a little black bird?”

Octa A-kun pales. Sweat collects on his forehead. A lump forms in his throat.

“I-I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT...!!” he blurts out.

Unconvincingly.

Rook’s eyes narrow. “I have requested for you to speak naught but the truth, have I not?”

He reaches out and takes ahold of Octa A-kun’s collar, pulling him close--so close that the poor boy can make out his own fear-stricken expression in the green of Rook’s eyes.

The hunter still smiles, his teeth a stark, blinding white.

He’s beautiful, Octa A-kun realizes. Beautiful, but deadly.

“Y-You’re being r-really scary, senpai...! P-Please don’t bully me...!”

“La vérité, Monsieur Kelp?”

A drop of sweat races down Octa A-kun’s profile. Pupils dilated, breath hitching, body trembling.

In the distance, a bell tolls--granting him an opportunity to escape.

“Would you look at the time...!! I...I really gotta go now!! M-My project partner’s waiting for me, ahahaha...!! E-Excuse me!” Octa A-kun shouts shaking from Rook’s grip and sidestepping the hunter.

He begins to speed walk away, hands balled into fists and arms swinging stiffly, when Rook calls out to him.

“...Monsieur Kelp.”

Against his better judgement, Octa A-kun dares to glance back.

Rook is staring right at him, his gaze piercing.

“Know this: if you betray her, there will be more for you to worry about than damaged articles of clothing.”

And with that remark, Rook allows his prey to retreat.

But he watches every step of the way.

Until Octa A-kun is nothing more than a dot in the distance.

“Welcome to my roost,” Raven declares with the wave of her hand. “Ignore the mess, and make yourself at home.”

“D-Don’t mind if I do,” Octa A-kun says, carefully ducking into the attic space.

Mess is a bit of an understatement. Raven’s room is piled high with tomes, loose papers scattered on the floor and smears of ink all over.

Tucked away in a corner appears to be a mattress, with a blanket in a nest-like shape, a pillow laid in the center. A bookshelf overflows with volumes on ancient curses, while a strange teardrop shaped seat, decorated with ribbons and wisteria, hangs by a window.

Set upon a large desk is a snuffed out candle, a quill set with a magic gemstone, and several empty bottles and blank labels. A basket spills out its contents--herbs, flowers, and fungi--next to a mortar and pestle.

What really catches Octa A-kun’s attention, however, is the strange collection of glass apparatuses and tubes that line the desk. A small flame dances under the rounded part of a flask, heating up a rose-gold concoction.

“Looks like you keep pretty busy, huh?”

“You could say that. I like to remain productive.”

Octa A-kun offers a timid smile. “Um, if I may ask, what is it that you’ve got brewing at your desk...? I-I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

Raven pauses.

“...Do you know that feeling of rediscovering a part of yourself you thought you had once lost? Or the rose-tinted glasses which clouds one’s vision? The wonderfulness of meeting an old friend? Think of those things, set in the color of dawn, beckoning a new day.”

“E-Eh?” Octa A-kun combs his brain for a response. “Uh...you mean nostalgia?”

“Precisely. This is my latest creation--Nostalgia. It took me two whole weeks to get this new ink color just right, but it shall be lovely to write with.” Raven puffs up a bit with pride. “Oh, but enough about my personal projects. We need to work on that Magic History assignment, yes?”

“Y-Yes. That report on Unique Magic Development...” Octa A-kun’s eyes follow Raven’s hand as it trails over a series of books on a shelf.

Hexes, and How to Break Them. True Love’s Kiss: Panacea or Poison? Ancient Curses: A Collection of Anecdotes. Journal of Magic Medicine, Issue 32: Jinx Edition.

“Ah, here it is.” Raven fishes out a maroon book with a few sticky notes jutting out of it--Unique Magic: Nature & Nurture--and hands it to Octa A-kun, along with a spare quill, an inkwell, and a fresh sheet of paper.

She gestures toward the seat adorned with wisteria. “Have a seat and work on your half of the report. I’ll be working on my half at my desk after I clean up. We can compare our halves and edit as is necessary when both parts are complete.”

He complies, sitting where he is directed and flipping open Unique Magic: Nature & Nurture.

Two sticky notes immediately pop out at him. One sports a list of various unrelated words (Nostalgia, Sorrow, Regret, and an L word that appears to have been blotted out, left illegible).

The other sticky note has a little diagram labelled Unique Magic, a heart in the center with arrows pointing outward. Needs faith, trust, and a little pixie dust, one arrow remarks. Infusion of feelings requires experience, says another. Practice with Nostalgia, a third states.

Octa A-kun slowly lifts his eyes from the page--carefully watching Raven tidying up her desk.

With the flick of her magical pen--or quill, rather--she extinguishes the flame beneath her flask and sets it into a test tube rack to cool. Raven collects her plants into a basket and tucks them under the desk, along with the rest of her glassware. Then she gathers stray papers and pops open her drawer to stow them away--

And that’s when Octa A-kun catches a glimpse of it.

An unopened letter, in a pale blue envelope.

To My Dearest Raven scrawled across it.

“...And that is the g-gist of it,” Octa A-kun concludes his report, “dorm leader.”

“Excellent work, Kon-san. You efforts are greatly appreciated.” From behind his ornate office desk, Azul clasps his hands together and beams. “I suppose there is no longer any need for Floyd to pay your friends in Pomefiore and Scarabia a little visit.”

“Boooo,” Floyd groans from beside him.

“Th-Thank you for your kindness, dorm leader!” Octa A-kun gushes--if only to (poorly) mask his own fears. He wants to sink into the couch cushions and disappear like sea foam. “B-But...But if I can make a request, sir!”

“What is it?” Azul sounds mildly annoyed, but Octa A-kun steels his courage and persists.

“Um...i-if possible, can you assign s-someone else to check on Miss Raven? I-I’m scared of what Rook-senpai will do to me if I make the wrong mo--EEP!!”

Before he has even finished his sentence, Floyd is flying at him like a shark tearing through water.

WHAM!

Octa A-kun screams as Floyd’s foot connects with the couch, boxing him in and nearly knocking the furniture over. Azul’s glasses flash a pure white, and he makes no move to restrain the feral eel.

“What was that, Konbu-chan?” Floyd asks--no, demands--as he leers down at him. Teeth gnashing. “Did I hear you right? Umineko-kun got in the way?”

“E-Eeeep! Ch-Chill out, Floyd-senpai! You’re...you’re scaring me!!” Octa A-kun whimpers, his poor heart pounding out of his chest.

“Speak freely, Kon-san,” Azul prompts, waving a gloved hand to silence Floyd--but his tone is just as icy and cruel as the eel’s eyes. “What is this I hear about...interference?”

“W-Well...h-he seemed to know that you sent me. And he said he might...do things if I make a misstep.” Octa A-kun furiously shakes his head. “I’ll need a replacement hat after th-that encounter...I-I’m sorry, dorm leader, but I r-really don’t want to be involved in this any more than I have to...!”

Azul leans back in his chair, and his face settles into a serious expression.

“Uwaaah, Jade wasn’t kiddin’ when he said Umineko-kun was guarding Black Pearly like a shark on sunken treasure,” Floyd flicks his tongue along his teeth, which gleam dangerously under the lights of the VIP room. “Even the low level lackies get chewed up and spat out, ehehehe~”

“This is not funny, Floyd. This just makes things that much more difficult,” Azul snaps, pushing his glasses up.

“It’s fine, it’s fiiine,” Floyd insists dismissively with a giggle. “I’ll just follow Konbu-chan--and if that creep Umineko-kun gets close, I’ll beat’em bloody~”

“I-Isn’t that a bit extreme?!” Octa A-kun protests, only to earn a withering glare from Floyd.

“Shut your trap, guppy. No one asked for your opinion,” Floyd hisses--then his expression brightens considerably when he addresses his dorm leader. “Ne, ne, Azul! Can I, can I?”

“Absolutely not. We still need to collect more information before taking such drastic action,” Azul says, his voice tinged with irrtation. “Might I remind you, Floyd, that Octavinelle is, once again, in poor standing with the headmaster? It would not do to further tarnish our reputation with another incidence report.”

“Laaaame~” Floyd pouts, backing away from Oct A-kun. “I’m not allowed to do anything fun anymore.”

“As I was saying,” Azul continues, ignoring the eel, “thank you for bringing this to my attention, Kon-san. Your work here is done--you are relieved from your duties until further notice. Dismissed.”

“Y-Yessir!! Th-Thank you so much, sir!” Octa A-kun breathes a massive sigh of relief. He is quick to gather his coat and hat, then bow to his senpais and hurriedly exit.

Azul pinches the bridge of his nose.  “...This will become a problem if it persists.”

“I don’t get it, Azul!” Floyd whines loudly, slamming his hands on his dorm leader’s desk. “Why don’t we just kidnap Black Pearly already and make her ‘n Jade ‘fess up? That’d be sooo much easier than dancing around Umineko-kun!”

“That is not how proper reconciliation works, Floyd,” Azul points out. “If we are to fix this mess, then we cannot hope to resolve it overnight.”

He thinks of the details Octa A-kun had divulged--the countless books that litter Raven’s abode, the fixation on work, the strangely named ink, the interest in curses...Surely they must all mean something.

He pauses, before adding, “...I feel as though I am missing a vital piece of the puzzle.”

“Ehhhh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Call it...octopus’s intuition. There is something bigger at play here, something far more powerful than you or I can comprehend.” Azul folds his arms. “And if we intend to bring back Miss Raven into Jade’s arms, then that is one puzzle piece we must find.”

“Hmmm.” Floyd leans down, peering into Azul’s solemn face--then breaks out into a toothy grin. “Ne, ne, you really care a lot about Jade, don’t you?”

“Hmph. Don’t be ridiculous,” Azul snaps, lips pursing into a straight line. “This is merely a case of an employer fretting over the well being of his employee. Jade cannot perform at his best if he is emotionally distressed. I am simply doing my due diligence as his employer to ensure that he is content--it benefits the business.”

“Ehehehe~ In the end, Azul’s heart is juuust as squishy and soft as his octopus form~” The eel wraps his arms around Azul, squeezing the dorm leader against his chest. “That’s sooo cute~”

“FLOYD, DO NOT PRESUME TO KNOW MY INTENTIONS...!! AND UNHAND ME THIS INSTANT!”

“Nope! Don’t wanna~”

Octa A-kun is halfway down the corridor when a hand clamps down--hard--onto his shoulder. The student squeaks in terror as he is whipped around--and comes face-to-face with his smiling vice-dorm leader.

“Good evening, Kon-san,” Jade says nonchalantly, his tone light but his aura dark. “Might I have a moment with you?”

For the third time that day. Octa A-kun’s stomach sinks--but he lacks both the strength and the willpower to resist.

“S-Sure...Wh-What is it?”

Jade cranes his head down, his single golden eye glowing despite his sinister shadow. “I have received word that you have been snooping around campus. Naughty, naughty Kon-san. You should know better.”

Octa A-kun instinctively takes a step back, putting some distance between him and his vice-dorm leader--the information broker of Octavinelle. No secret can evade him, it seems.

“Th-The dorm leader asked me to...!” he confesses, cheeks turning pink in embarrassment.

“Please, be at ease. I do not bite,” Jade says smoothly, chuckling into his glove. “Now then, my sources tell me that you happened upon Miss Raven’s quarters. Is this correct?”

“Y-Yes...”

“Then let me ask this of you--did you, by chance, see a blue envelope?”

“Blue envelope...” Octa A-kun’s eyes light up in realization. “A-Ah, I do seem to recall seeing something like that. She...She keeps it in a drawer. It was unopened.”

“Unopened...?” Jade repeats the word carefully, as though handling a delicate artifact. He brings a hand to his chin in contemplation, his brows furrowing. “It is no wonder why she continues to behave in such a vehement manner,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Um...vice-dorm leader? Is everything alright?” Octa A-kun asks nervously.

“...No. It is nothing, I assure you.” Jade composes himself, smiling once more--this time, without a hint of darkness to it. “Think nothing of it, dear Kon-san. Please, do retire for the night--that was all I wished to know, fufu.”

“O-Of course, vice-dorm leader...”

Jade sees him off with a polite wave.

Octa A-kun waits until Jade is completely out of sight before he collapses into a heap on the ground. He clutches onto his stomach, which twists and knots with fright, and sniffles softly to himself.

Why, oh, why was he not sorted into a normal dorm with normal non-scary students and normal, healthy relationships with their peers? No, instead he’s trapped in the mermaid mafia and witnessing Overblot incidents every single month.

Go to Night Raven College, they said. It’d be fun, they said. You’ll get a great education, they said.

J-Just...Just give me a quiet, peaceful life already...!!

[bubbyleh]

Good Things

angst w/ a happy ending cw for unethical science and trigger phrases word count: 8,569 (nice)

Dr. Coomer knows what he’s doing is very illegal and he could get in a lot of trouble. He does not work in Biological Research, and he has no clearance to be here, especially this late. But what else is he going to do, spend the night in his dorm room?

No way. Not since they agreed to go forward with the divorce. It’s stupid and dangerous, but hey, the worst thing he’s going to find is some half-disected cow or something.

And then he finds the tube.

He didn’t realize what it was at first, the back of it was metal and faced the door Coomer came in from. It was just a weird pillar in the middle of the room, he thought, until he found himself in front of it and realized. Suspended in a green liquid, lit by fluorescent lights inside and sleeping, there was a person. He’s wearing a medical gown, and there’s an oxygen mask and other monitoring equipment strapped to him.

“My goodness,” Coomer says without meaning to.

The person in the tube cracks an eye open, clearly having heard him and woken up. He glares at him before moving his hands in a manner that Coomer recognizes as sign language.

Too bad Coomer’s very rusty. Crap, he thinks he still has his old books somewhere. He waves and shrugs with an apologetic smile.

The tube person rolls his eyes, before exaggeratedly pointing at Coomer. Then, by making a hook with his left hand and a fist with his right, he makes the shape of a question mark.

Clearly this man can hear him, so Coomer clears his throat. “Well, I’m Dr. Harold Coomer,” he introduces himself. “I work in Waste Disposal. Who are you, then?”

The question catches the stranger off-guard. He looks around as if confused by who Coomer could be addressing, his dark hair swishing after him. When he turns back, he points to the base of the tube, where Coomer notices for the first time the placard at the bottom.

BU-33Y

“Huh,” Coomer remarks, squinting at the name slightly. “So you’re Bubby, then?”

He facepalms, but the name sticks.

☆*☆

[B is the department. U is the project designation.]

Coomer nods along as Bubby explains his name. He’d been surprised when Coomer returned a week after their first encounter, doubly so when he could actually understand the signs he used. Bubby still seemed apprehensive to speak with Coomer, but he didn’t tell him to leave.

[33 is my number, Y refers to the batch I come from.]

Bubby had told him a lot about himself, or rather, the project he originates from. The Ultimate Lifeform, Black Mesa’s attempt to make a perfect scientist. Incredibly intelligent, superhuman abilities, and government property. Eventually his testing is going to involve him working among other scientists, a prospect Coomer is thrilled by.

“Batch?” Coomer questions. He feels somewhat awkward, sitting in front of the tube. Bubby doesn’t seem to mind, though.

[Same genetic code,] Bubby winces at the thought. [My brothers, I guess. I’m the youngest.]

“Well, where are the other thirty-two, then?” Coomer asks. “And all the other batches?”

Bubby looks past Coomer, deeper into Biological Research. [Gone. Some of them are around, kind of.] For the first time, Coomer notices fear on his companion’s face. [They were out too long. They died, or fell apart.] He kicks, legs swishing through the green tube goo.

“But you’re not going to, right?” Coomer has to know. He’s just met Bubby, so maybe his attachment is a little much, but this person is so smart, so witty, so intelligent! To think he could just… stop being, one day.

[No,] Bubby’s got a confident smirk on his face, but his hands are shaking. [They’re working to fix it. I’m gonna be out of here for good someday.]

☆*☆

Their meetings continue for months. Coomer doesn't bring up his impending divorce with Bubby, mostly because he doesn't want to think about it. It isn’t a crime to want to hold onto the one person who doesn't look at him with pity these days! Besides, Bubby always redirects conversation away from his own feelings, why the hell would he listen to Coomer’s?

Well, part of that assumption is challenged when Coomer finds Bubby in his tube, fidgeting with his fingers with a distant look in his eyes. He doesn’t even notice Coomer at first.

“Good evening, Bubby!” Coomer grins, putting on his best friendly face. Bubby startles, going rigid almost like a goat. “Is something troubling you?”

Bubby shakes his head almost immediately, but seems to pause upon making eye contact with Coomer. He looks away as he signs, [Actually, you might be able to help me with this.]

“Ah, what do you need?” Coomer takes a seat in front of the tube, as he often does when he comes to see Bubby. He waits patiently while Bubby struggles to find his words.

[Do you remember what you told me last week?] Bubby starts, but after Coomer gives him a lost look, he adds, [About being a man.]

Oh, Coomer remembered! He’d been showing off the enhancements he’d received from the Cybernetics department, because while Bubby was familiar with their work, seeing it firsthand was a whole other thing entirely. Bubby was trying to downplay the fact that he was marvelling his Extendo-Arms™ when Coomer mentioned that they had done a few of his transition surgeries as well.

The look of pure confusion on Bubby’s face would be something Coomer always cherished. He gave him a brief explanation on gender identity, sadly not touching on the more intricate details due to time restraints. But Bubby had gotten the gist of it! And now he was asking to know more? It was a scenario Coomer could only dream of.

“Of course I remember!” Coomer exclaims. “Would you like me to elaborate on some of the points I made? I know I had to leave before we could get into my own lived experience, but I hope the general descriptions were adequate!”

[I’ve been thinking about it,] Bubby is obviously uncomfortable. [I’m not a man. Or a woman.]

Well that’s certainly not what Coomer was expecting, but that’s not a bad thing! Finally, a friend who also isn’t cis! He shakes his fists up and down in excitement, before rushing forward to scoop Bubby up in a big hug.

Sadly, there is still a glass wall between them. Coomer slams his face right into it.

Coomer hears Bubby laugh for the first time. Even though it’s muffled by the oxygen mask and tube, not to mention sounding more like a witch’s cackle than something joyful, it’s still the most beautiful thing Coomer has ever heard.

☆*☆

For a few days, Coomer misses his meetings with Bubby. Although they weren't operating on any real schedule before, Coomer had made sure his visits were occurring most nights. But after the divorce was finalized, well… he needed some time by himself.

Bubby’s rapping their knuckles against the glass the second they see Coomer, clearly trying to get his attention. There are less wires connected to them than before, the vast collection reduced to only their oxygen mask.

“Hello Bubby!” Coomer greets apologetically. “I’m sorry for my absence recently, I had a bit of an issue…”

But Bubby clearly isn’t listening. They’re enthusiastic to the point of stimming, excitedly pointing at the large button on the other side of the room.

Coomer walks over to the button and inspects it. It’s been here all this time, yes, but he’s never really thought much about what it does. “You want me to press this?” he clarifies.

Bubby nods, hands flapping so fast there’s no way they could stop to sign. They have that evil look in their eye again, the one that reminds Coomer how vibrant they are and makes his heart skip a beat. He presses the button without hesitation.

Immediately, the liquid in the tube begins to drain, and Coomer worries for a moment that this is going to kill Bubby. But the way they’re lightly kicking against the tube wall, anxious and thrilled beyond measure, tells Coomer that this is exactly what they wanted.

Finally, the tube water is gone, and the glass drops. Bubby takes one step forward, then slips in some of the liquid left at the bottom.

“FUCK!” they yell. It’s the first word Coomer ever hears them say.

“Oh dear, Bubby!” Coomer’s at their side in an instant, helping them sit back up. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Bubby shoos away Coomer’s helpful hands. Their voice is almost exactly what Coomer expected, pointed and snarky. They shoot a glare at him. “Where the hell have you been? I got the all clear that I’m not going to fall apart yesterday.”

Coomer winces, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Bubby doesn’t even know he was married, let alone in the middle of a bitter divorce up until recently.

“I, um,” he stammers. “I had something happen?”

Bubby rolls their eyes. “No shit.” They take Coomer’s hand. “Can you grab my glasses for me? You’re about to watch me burn shit.”

Coomer tries to ignore the burning feeling in his face and chest when he looks at their hands, instead focusing on the burning feeling that comes from standing way too close to Bubby’s fire.

☆*☆

Things change very quickly after that. Bubby gets their neural implants put in—which they’re rightfully pissy about—but they’re moving forward. After all, limiting the government secrets you can tell is a sign that you’ll soon be around people who don’t know them. Besides, Coomer already knows anything they would have told him without the barrier, so they’ll always have him around!

Just mentioning that halts Bubby’s thrashing against the metal walls and medical equipment. Their hands still, their expression softens, and they tilt their head slightly, as if in wonder of the man in front of them.

Coomer feels seen in a way he never has before.

☆*☆

They wait a few days after Bubby’s “release into the wild” (as Coomer calls it) before visiting with each other again. Give Bubby a few days at work and the plausible deniability that he met Coomer during that time. But now that time is up, and Coomer’s excited to hear how Chemical Engineering has been treating his friend!

His friend. Coomer has long since accepted he has a bit of a crush on Bubby, which is kind of embarrassing to admit as he’s rapidly approaching forty years old. When you constantly catch yourself thinking about running your hand through your friend’s hair, though, or wondering what it would be like to kiss him with all those sharp teeth… it’s obvious at that point.

In stark contrast from before, Bubby visits Coomer’s dorm room. He insists that his own is nowhere near ready to receive guests in, and he’d much rather see what a lived-in space should look like. Coomer doesn’t mention he only got downgraded to this singles’ dorm a month ago.

The second he steps in, while Coomer tries to avoid thinking about how good he looks in actual clothes, Bubby starts complaining.

“What the fuck!? Why do you have a better dorm than me?!” Bubby gestures around him. “You’ve got, like, three different rooms here!”

“I’ve been working for Black Mesa for almost twenty years, Bubby!” Coomer explains. “I have a bit of seniority over you.”

Bubby rolls his eyes. “Big deal, I’ve practically been working here for thirty-eight years! That’s more than you!” He crosses his arms and grumbles about favoritism.

Coomer puts all his energy into ignoring how adorable Bubby looks when he’s grumpy.

☆*☆

“Harold! What do you mean you’re divorced!?”

They’re sitting on the couch in Coomer’s dorm, Bubby clutching one of his throw pillows. It hurt to bring up, but Coomer figures that Bubby would have found out eventually. He really didn’t want them to hear about it from a colleague of theirs that was an acquaintance at best.

“Well, I am!” Coomer attempts to keep a tone of cheerfulness in his voice. “The proceedings started just before I met you, and everything’s been finalized for a few months now.”

Bubby stands, and Coomer’s afraid for a moment that they're about to start lecturing him on trust.

They point a finger at him. “You’re telling me you have an ex we could have been bashing this whole time?!”

☆*☆

Though it takes a while, Bubby finally relents and allows Coomer to come over to their dorm, and while it’s much smaller, he loves it more than his own. It’s cozy! The two of them have to sit on the bed to watch TV, since there isn’t enough room for a couch.

Which is exactly what they’re doing. Coomer has a lot of media he plans on catching Bubby up on, prioritizing his own favorites! But they are currently watching an action movie, which he knows they’ll both enjoy. Acts of heroism and explosions? It’s like the industry was made entirely for the two of them!

They’re sitting very close, Bubby practically leaning against him. Not that Coomer’s complaining, they’re practically a heater. And given how far underground they are, he’s taking any source of warmth he can get. The physical contact is also making him very flustered, and thus, more body heat!

A huge explosion rocks the screen, and Coomer laughs. “See, Bubby! I told you there would be something in here for you!”

“Huh?” Bubby mumbles and sits up. They’re clearly rubbing their eyes.

“Bubby, have you been asleep?” Coomer asks, already knowing the answer.

They blink, the fog clearly leaving their brain. “Oh,” Bubby says, as if realizing that’s what happened. “Yeah, so what? It’s my room.”

“You have company!”

Bubby squints at Coomer, before removing their glasses. “I don’t see any company.”

“Bubby! You can still hear me!”

“The world is just blurry shapes now! For all I know, I’m alone!”

Oh, well if someone’s going to be childish, then Coomer can play their game. Using Bubby’s reduced eyesight to his advantage, Coomer snatches their glasses from their hand. They gasp dramatically.

“Harold! How dare you!” Bubby attempts to swipe their glasses back, but it’s a little hard to do that when their hand-eye coordination is shot. Coomer holds the glasses above their heads, teasingly.

“What’s wrong, professor? Can’t find your glasses?” he grins, waggling the sight aids ever so mockingly.

Coomer was not expecting Bubby to tackle him to the bed. “It’s doctor, shut up!” they growl, reaching for his outstretched hand. “Give them back!”

He does his best to shove Bubby back, but since he’s not putting too much effort in, it’s no use. Finally, Bubby’s hand manages to find purchase on the glasses’ bridge. They yank their glasses back, shouting a triumphant “Aha!” as they do so.

Bubby returns their glasses to their rightful place, smirking with their shark-like teeth showing. “You thought you could-”

Coomer suddenly realizes how close their faces are to each other. And that Bubby’s practically got him pinned against the bed. His hand lingers on their stomach, halted in its effort to push Bubby away.

Bubby seems to as well, as they suddenly stop talking, their cheeks turning a bright red that Coomer’s sure matches his own. After the longest moment of stillness, they abruptly fall back, almost fearful.

“Fuck!” Bubby curls in on themself, gripping their temples with their hands. “That was- it was nothing!”

Coomer sits up, tentatively reaching a hand out. “Bubby…”

They slap his hand away. “Stop it, Harold!” Bubby’s tone is harsh, but Coomer can hear their voice cracking. “Just stop, okay?! It was nothing!” They’re practically about to pull their hair out of their head.

“Bubby!” Coomer grabs onto their wrists, bringing them between the two of them. He looks Bubby in the eye. “Calm down. Breathe with me, alright?”

Clearly biting down whatever they were going to say, Bubby nods as if it’s the only thing they can do. Slowly, Coomer sees the tension fall from their shoulders, their arms going slack. After a few rounds of breathing, Bubby gently draws their hands back, and Coomer lets them.

“Now, what’s the matter with you?” Coomer moves to sit beside Bubby. “And don’t you dare say it’s nothing, again.”

Bubby drops their head onto their knees. “I know you’re in love with me, Coomer. You’re like a puppy, it’s not hard to read you.”

Coomer sighs. This is a rejection, then? As a divorced man, Coomer should be used to this, but… he isn’t. Not from Bubby.

Bubby looks back up at him. “And I know what you want in a relationship, and it’s not me.”

Huh?

“Not you?” The concept is so absurd that Coomer’s sure he must not have heard them correctly.

“Actual person things!” Bubby gestures to the ceiling as they speak. “Like going to the surface, or living together, or going to nice restaurants!” They frown. “I can’t give you that.”

A beat passes while Coomer figures out how to respond to that.

“You know you’re wrong, right?”

Now it’s Bubby’s turn to look confused. “What?”

“While those things are nice, I don’t need any of them in a romantic relationship.” He takes Bubby’s hand. “I just need someone who’s nice to spend time with and is willing to put the effort in.”

Bubby’s face turns bright red again. “Oh,” they say, squeezing Coomer’s hand. “Well, I can do that.”

“Can you?” Coomer’s mostly joking, still riding the high of mutual romantic feelings, but Bubby takes it seriously.

“Of course I can!” They throw their arms around his shoulders, a stupid grin now spread across their face from cheek to cheek. “Just you wait, Harold, I’m going to romance the socks off of you!”

For the second time today, their faces are inches apart.

Bubby doesn’t back away this time. “I can kiss you, right?”

“Oh most definitely,” Coomer responds.

It turns out, kissing Bubby is everything Coomer had hoped it would be and more. Their lips are warm, and the feeling of them smiling into the kiss as they grip the back of his shirt, pulling him closer, is one he’ll never forget.

☆*☆

There are certain things you don’t notice about a person until you spend a night with them. After sharing a bed with Bubby a few times, Coomer comes to several realizations.

The first is that Bubby sleeps like a log. Seriously, Coomer would have expected them to be at least a little bit twitchy. But the second Bubby’s out, they aren’t moving again until the morning.

Which is difficult in combination with the second item: Bubby is a clinger. It’s cute to see someone who’s usually so standoffish be completely affectionate at night, but not so much when Coomer feels pins and needles in his arm and he’s physically incapable of moving it out from between the two of them without waking his partner.

And waking them up is a bad idea because of the third realization, which is that Bubby is not a morning person in the slightest. Coomer already had a sense of this from their first meeting, but Bubby absolutely HATES waking up for the day. They practically need to be lured to the lab with a trail of coffee mugs every morning.

But their annoying sleeping habits aside, Coomer thinks it’s worth it. After all, he gets to hold Bubby for a whole night! Listening to them breathing, running his hand through their hair (they’re starting to go gray), he has never felt more at peace.

☆*☆

Coomer finds Bubby waiting for him outside his dorm room, standing there with his arms crossed and tapping his foot rapidly. His scowl immediately melts into a smile the second he spots him.

“Well, hello there Bubby!” Coomer waves. “What are you doing here so early? I thought our departments let out at the same time.”

“Harold, you will not believe the day I’ve had.” Bubby places a hand on Coomer’s back, serving as both affection and a way to rush him through unlocking the door. “Some idiot almost blew up the entire lab!”

Coomer turns the key and opens the door. “Well that’s not good! What happened?”

Bubby brushes past him, plopping himself on the couch with great flourish. “The man was clearly ignoring proper lab safety! The whole experiment burst into flames while his back was turned!” He seems strangely satisfied as he speaks, a look Coomer would know anywhere. “We got the rest of the day off because of his arrogance.”

Taking a seat next to him, Coomer narrows his eyes at Bubby. “Darling, you didn’t.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Bubby raises his hands in the air, feigning innocence long enough that Coomer almost begins to feel bad. Then he gets that wicked grin on his face again. “I did, though. I spent the afternoon eating chips in my dorm, and it was a million times better than working for this hell facility.”

“Bubby! You were supposed to bring those chips here with you!” Coomer chides him, but in reality, he doesn’t care that much. He’s proud his wonderful partner fucked over the system just a bit.

Bubby stares at him blankly for a moment. “Oh yeah! I forgot about that.” He shrugs. “They were good, though.”

“I’m sure they were,” Coomer sighs, but his obvious smile shows no ill-will behind it.

☆*☆

Over the years, the folks over at Biological Research get a bit more lenient with Bubby. They’re finally able to see some of Black Mesa's surface facilities, which are mostly just a few upper-level labs. The only condition is that Bubby is not allowed to leave the property.

That’s fine for both of them, though. There’s a lot to do on the surface if you’ve never been there before, and they end up sitting in the sunshine together, talking about things they definitely would have talked about below-ground as well. Bubby seems to enjoy the sun on their skin, acting a lot like a lizard basking in a bright light.

“I see you’re having fun,” Coomer chuckles.

Bubby is laying flat on their back, and even though Coomer knows they’ll yell at him for letting them lay down in the dirt, right now he can’t bring himself to stop them.

“It’s so warm out, Harold!” Bubby exclaims, wearing the happiest grin ever. “You know I love the warm!”

When the sky begins to darken and the temperature cools, Bubby sits back up and scooches over to join Coomer against one of the rock outcroppings that litter Black Mesa. They stretch their arm out, subtly wrapping it around Coomer’s shoulders and leaning their head against his.

“You know I love you, Harold,” they whisper. Coomer has never seen them look so peaceful before.

Coomer beams, taking hold of Bubby’s free hand and kissing his partner at the same time. “Of course,” he replies. “And I love you.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes, watching the last of the sun’s rays dip below the horizon. Bubby’s gaze turns to the stars above them. Being out in the middle of nowhere, Black Mesa has very little light pollution. No matter how bright the stars may look, though, Coomer thinks there’s no way they can be brighter than Bubby’s eyes right now.

“They can’t program stuff like this into a person,” Bubby remarks, eyes still glued to the sky. “I’ve known about stars and love my whole life, but…” They falter, their expression becoming grim for the briefest of seconds. Then, they look back at Coomer. “Experiencing it is something different.”

Coomer doesn’t need to respond, not vocally. He pulls Bubby into the biggest bear hug he can muster.

“Ack! Coomer!” Bubby grunts. “Not all of us are ninety-percent metal!”

“Forty-seven point five!” Coomer corrects them, but he releases Bubby with an apologetic head pat. “I’m sorry, though. I just love you too much! I want to hug you all the time!”

Bubby’s face goes red immediately. Even after all these years together, Coomer can still make them blush as though it were their first date all over again.

“Yeah! W-well!” they stammer. “Good! You should want to do that!”

Choking back his laughter, Coomer pulls Bubby in for another, more gentle hug.

☆*☆

They’re curled up on his couch late one night, watching an old movie when Coomer decides to bring up the elephant in the room.

Coomer stops running his hand through Bubby’s hair. “Your hairline is receding. You know that, right?”

Bubby immediately sits up from where he was resting on Coomer’s chest. “Shut the fuck-”

“I was just saying!”

“I do not want to hear it!”

“Bubby, dear, you’re completely gray already. My hairline is also receding!”

“Yeah, well.” Bubby crosses his arms, turning away from Coomer. “You’re a year older than me, so that makes sense.”

Coomer shakes his head. “Well, I suppose there’s only one way to settle this.”

Bubby gasps. “You wouldn’t!” He scrambles to the other side of the couch. “Stay away from me, you bastard!”

“A fight to the death!”

And with that, Coomer lunges.

☆*☆

All good things must come to an end. It’s a concept Coomer is intimately familiar with.

☆*☆

The morning begins in Coomer’s kitchenette, Bubby hunched over the table drinking their coffee out of a mug that says “Total Stud” on it. A gift from three years ago. As they rub the sleep from their eyes, Coomer bounces around preparing breakfast for the both of them.

“You’re heading back down to Biological Research again today, aren’t you?” Coomer asks over his shoulder as he fries a few eggs.

Out of the corner of his eye, Coomer spots Bubby signing, [Yes.] Must be a rough morning, then.

“Medical checkup?” Coomer asks, slipping their eggs onto two plates and serving one to his partner. But Bubby ignores him. They pointedly hold the mug with both hands, taking a long and drawn-out sip.

Coomer bites his cheek as he sits across from Bubby. “You know, they’re dragging me into another meeting down there today.”

[Clone thing?] Bubby absentmindedly picks at their eggs. Scrambled, just how they like them.

“I believe so,” Coomer sighs. “You’re sure it’s different from you?”

Bubby nods. [It’s just you in two bodies. Wasn’t like that for me.]

While it’s a relief that there aren’t going to be any more children brought up in Black Mesa like Bubby was, Coomer’s still not entirely sure he likes the implications of the alternative. A hivemind of himself just wandering around the facility? Is that something he wants?

“But, anyway.” Coomer got sidetracked. “I was thinking we could head down there toge-”

That wakes Bubby up more than coffee ever could. “No!” they shout, rising from their chair in an instant. The second they register their panic, though, it’s gone. “It’s… we shouldn’t go together. I’ll probably leave after we eat.”

Maybe it’s the way they look into his eyes, like a caged animal, but something about what Bubby says next sticks with him for the rest of the day.

“They aren’t good people, Harold.”

☆*☆

Coomer catches sight of Bubby as he’s rushed into one of the offices, through a window into a test chamber. They’re back in a medical gown again (that hurts to see), shoulders slumped as a scientist speaks to them. Their eyes meet for the briefest of seconds, Bubby offering him a small smile, which Coomer returns.

Then the scientist snaps at Bubby, who immediately goes rigid and turns away from Coomer.

☆*☆

“To put it simply, Dr. Coomer, the sequencing of your DNA is ideal for mass-producing clones.”

The man in front of him—Dr. Daniels, as the nameplate on his desk reads—smirks as he speaks, and it isn’t at all close to the endearing ones Bubby has. It’s cold, calculating, and makes Coomer want to squirm. When you’re the head of Biological Research, you get to be intimidating.

In the back of his head, Coomer hears Bubby’s warning. ‘They aren’t good people, Harold.’

“How did you get my DNA in the first place?” Coomer inquires, because he knows for a fact he hasn’t given them any.

Dr. Daniels just laughs at him, more mocking than assuring. “Cybernetics had a few samples on record, in the event of complications during surgery,” he says. “It wasn’t hard to get ahold of them.”

Coomer frowns. Damn, he didn’t think those were still around. ‘They aren’t good people, Harold.’

“You see, I’m worried about the shared consciousness,” Coomer looks for an out. There’s a strange noise in the hallway, but it’s easy enough to ignore. “They’d just be mindless extensions of myself?”

“That’s a simplification, but yes,” Dr. Daniels begins rifling through his desk drawers. “I apologize, I swear I had a paper here that would explain it better.” His brow furrows, but he’s interrupted when

CRASH!!

Another noise from the hallway, this time even louder than before. And people are shouting. It startles the both of them.

Dr. Daniels grumbles, “What the hell is happening out there?”

The office door flies off its hinges in a fiery burst of energy, and a figure steps in. And figure is the right word, because it’s difficult to make out any features beyond pure black and literally engulfed in flame.

Oh fuck.

That’s Bubby, isn’t it?

They look between the two people in the office, finally settling on Dr. Daniels. They point towards him as they speak.

“You.” Their voice is full of malice, more than Coomer’s ever heard from them before. They take a shambling step forward, leaving a trail of fires and scorch marks behind them as they walk. “Get away from him.”

But Dr. Daniels makes no move. “Now, now, Subject 33, there’s no need for this.”

Bubby is careful to avoid Coomer in his approach, made easier by the fact that Coomer has retreated to the side of the office. He can’t really escape without jumping through fire, and, well…

He can’t leave Bubby.

“I’m not going to let you hurt him,” Bubby hisses, climbing onto the desk and raising a hand to strike. “Not like you hurt me.”

Dr. Daniels isn’t afraid. He only shoots a disappointed glance Coomer’s way. “I see.”

He turns his attention back to Bubby. “Thirty-three drop.”

They’re just words, but they have an obvious effect on Bubby. Their flames extinguish immediately, leaving them smoking slightly. Their limbs go slack, and they fall backwards off the desk.

For a moment, Coomer is convinced Daniels killed them.

“What a shame,” Daniels walks around the desk, grabbing onto the back of Bubby’s medical gown. “You were doing such good work in Chemical Engineering. We’ll have to move you, now.”

As Daniels drags Bubby behind him, Coomer meets their eyes again. Despite the limpness in their body, Bubby is wide awake and begging, pleading for help.

But Coomer is frozen still.

Daniels unceremoniously drops Bubby in the hallway, calling out to the survivors of Bubby’s rampage to put them back in the tube for now. He closes the door after that and looks at Coomer.

“Now, as for you…”

‘They aren’t good people, Harold.’

☆*☆

All good things must come to an end.

But, thinking back on it, Bubby wasn’t just a good thing. No, the term “good thing” is not enough to describe the impact they left on Harold Coomer’s life. He knows it isn’t, not with the way he wakes up cold every morning, reaching for a warmth that isn’t there. Coomer finds himself boxing up leftovers more often than not, making enough food for two out of habit. He cries whenever he finds something in his dorm that Bubby left behind, like their mug or a sweater.

All good things must come to an end, but Bubby was more than that. Bubby was always more than people wanted them to be, everyone except Coomer. And when you spend so long living with so much, the absence is terrifyingly empty.

Bubby was an inferno. Bubby was the stars in their eyes. Bubby was passion, and intellect, and bravery, and cowardice, all in one.

Bubby was loved.

☆*☆

It goes like this.

Coomer is transferred to Biological Research, where they can keep an eye on him. He is not given a choice. He will participate in the cloning experiments, and he’ll live with it.

Bubby’s been transferred somewhere else. Their dorm has been moved. Coomer is not to speak with them again, under any circumstance.

Life continues, but it doesn’t move on.

☆*☆

Several times a day, Coomer catches himself thinking about Bubby.

‘What are they doing right now?’

‘Where are they?’

‘I miss them.’

‘Bubby would love this.’

‘Bubby would hate this.’

‘I should tell Bubby about this!’

It always hurts.

☆*☆

Coomer has to figure out grounding methods on his own. Everytime a new clone pops out, a piece of Coomer disappears for good. He loses items more often, because his thoughts strayed to a clone’s at just the wrong second. He still remembers things, but it’s getting harder and harder everyday. Some days his head is cloudy, and he can’t quite figure out what it is he’s supposed to do at work.

If Bubby were here, they would make fun of him. Yeah, they were kind of a jerk, weren’t they? A loving, wonderful jerk. But they wouldn’t have complained, there’s no doubt in Coomer’s mind.

Some days, when he wakes up, Coomer doesn’t remember that Bubby’s not by his side anymore.

☆*☆

Things don’t get better, but over the course of fifteen years, they do get easier.

Coomer starts making friends again, a young man by the name of Gordon Freeman. Coomer can tell he’s stressed out being so young in such a competitive field (especially working in Anomalous Materials, the things he’s heard about that department…), so maybe he takes a bit of a mentorship role to him.

It’s nice. They’ve known each other for a year at this point, and, well, he’s kind of like the son Coomer never had.

Gordon mentions that there’s a big test coming up, apparently his team is pulling other Anomalous Materials teams in just to make sure everything runs smoothly. And though it’s complicated, his job is rather simple. Push a crystal into a laser!

What could go wrong?

☆*☆

Of course Coomer shows up the day of the test to support Gordon! He hasn’t got anything better to do today, so he might as well see what all the fuss is over at Anomalous Materials.

It’s easy enough to bullshit his way past their front desk, having a million clones of yourself running around means there’s a million spots for you to fill should you need to. He briefly greets Gordon in the locker room, wishing him luck as he hurries on his way.

But, finally, he finds his way to the control room. The perfect place to watch from!

There are two scientists inside, both of whom are tall and lanky. One’s pretty young, Coomer thinks he must be around his mid-thirties. And the other-

“I swear to you, Tommy, this man says-”

He stops the second he spots the intruder, face slightly twitching in a way Coomer knows means he's resisting wincing. He’s lost more of his hair since Coomer last saw him, and though it’s been fifteen years, he’s aged pretty well, all things considered.

“Bubby?” The name comes tumbling out of Coomer’s mouth before he can stop himself. There's no way…

That does something to the scientist, dropping his stern expression for something softer. “Harold? Is that really-”

They’re interrupted by a clattering noise in the test chamber, all three of them turning to see Gordon has entered, accompanied by a security guard.

“Fuck,” Bubby swears. “What the hell is he doing?”

The other scientist, Tommy, preoccupies himself with yelling back and forth with the security guard.

“Tommy, do you know this man?” Bubby snaps (Coomer doesn’t remember him being this standoffish), appearing annoyed when he receives no answer.

“You know, he didn’t bring his passport!” Coomer jokes, trying to lighten the mood but…

Bubby is pointedly looking away from him, his attention focused on the computer terminal in front of him. He keeps mumbling about how fucked the technology in this part of the facility is, and honestly, Coomer agrees. Why they’re having Anomalous Materials run such high-risk tests in such a poor state, he has no idea. It’s like they’re asking for something terrible to happen.

And something does.

Things get worse as the test continues. The Anti-Mass Spectrometer begins to smoke, the computers in the control room are clearly on the fritz, and Bubby is still ignoring Coomer. But everything goes wrong after the crystal sample is placed in the laser.

They attempt to shut the Anti-Mass Spectrometer down, but it doesn’t work. Electricity arches throughout the room, striking the walls and loosening panels. All at once, an explosion rocks the test chamber, sending the three scientists ducking to the floor.

While Coomer doesn’t understand whatever the hell just happened, Bubby and Tommy certainly do. The second the test chamber stills, they rush out of the control room, heading two separate directions.

Some little part of Coomer’s heart that remained intact shatters.

☆*☆

Between all the zombies and aliens wandering around and the sheer destruction that’s been wrought on the facility, it’s quite obvious that Black Mesa has become defunct. As their team of five travels through the depths of their workplace, Coomer revels in the fact that he finally has an opportunity to get rid of these clones. With each of their deaths, it’s like a part of himself comes back.

Bubby catches on. Coomer occasionally spots him taking out a clone from the corner of his eyes.

That first night, after they all stop to rest, Coomer is surprised that Bubby chooses to sit next to him. After a full day of nothing from Bubby, Coomer had thought he was losing him all over again.

“This is the end of Black Mesa, isn’t it?” Bubby asks. Despite their proximity, he still won’t face Coomer.

Coomer looks out at the sleeping forms of their companions. Gordon is still stuck in his Hazard Suit, which probably makes sleeping even more uncomfortable. Tommy, meanwhile, has taken off his lab coat and bunched it up into a pillow.

“I believe so, Bubby,” Coomer admits.

Bubby sighs, but it’s not disappointment. It’s relief. Coomer is shocked to feel him take his hand into his own.

“It’s good to see you again, Harold,” he finally confesses. “You won’t believe how much I missed you.”

Coomer chuckles. “I have some idea.” Every nerve in his hand is buzzing, and if he was too old for this when he and Bubby first started dating, then he’s definitely too old now.

“So what are we doing, then?” Bubby’s being vague on purpose.

“Well, we should probably…” Coomer’s thoughts drift back to their final encounter, “talk. About everything. And then, I suppose, if you’ll have me…” He looks to Bubby, hope in his eyes.

Bubby scoffs, trying to keep his voice down. He leans his head against Coomer. “Seriously? You want to pick up where we left off fifteen years later?”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t!” Coomer says. “Who’s around to stop us now?”

Instead of arguing, Bubby lets his head drop down to Coomer’s shoulder. “You have a point,” he whispers after stifling a yawn. “We’ll talk in the morning?”

“We do need our rest,” Coomer concedes, resting his head atop Bubby. “Goodnight, then.”

Bubby falls asleep fast, like he always did. As for Coomer, despite the two of them laying against a concrete wall, it’s the best sleep he’s gotten in years.

☆*☆

While Bubby sticks to Coomer’s side like glue, it’s clear they’re avoiding being alone with him. They’ll slyly take ahold of his hand as the two of them walk side-by-side, but the second the team rounds a corner ahead of them, they’re dragging Coomer forward while shouting “We’re going to be left behind!”

They still haven’t talked about that last day.

But Coomer finds himself unable to complain too much. Having Bubby with him again, smiling and laughing, holding them… it’s everything he ever wanted.

☆*☆

When they finally make it back to the surface, Gordon has a great idea.

“Why don’t we just climb?” He gestures to the rocks in front of them. “Why don’t we just go over the rocks and fucking get out of here? We’re at the surface…”

Bubby tries to deter him, reminding Gordon that they’re in the middle of nowhere, but Coomer gets an idea.

“I could always try to clear the mountaintops with my SuperLegs,” he suggests, and when he doesn’t hear no, he goes for it.

He’s up there for but a few seconds, but what he sees beyond the walls of Black Mesa shakes him to his core.

There’s nothing there.

☆*☆

After the rocket launch, Coomer catches Bubby staring out the window instead of sleeping. Their eyes are trained on the night sky, watching the stars twinkle with a determination Coomer’s never seen before.

“Bubby,” Coomer calls out to them, shocking them from whatever trance they’re in. “You should really sleep.”

To be honest, it’s more for his sake than theirs. He just needs to feel Bubby by his side, tonight more so than any.

“Right,” Bubby moves back to Coomer’s side, nestling their face into his shoulder. “When you- I didn’t realize you were telling the truth, earlier.”

Coomer sighs. “You saw it too?”

They nod, mumbling, “There’s really nothing out there, is there?”

What do you do when facing down the limits of your own reality? What is there to do but seek comfort in that which makes you feel human?

☆*☆

Bubby's been whispering with Benrey. Occasionally the two of them will fall behind or run ahead of the group, mumbling to each other as they glance around nervously. While it is suspicious, Coomer knows Bubby! He hasn't heard anything terrible from him!

But still, he is acting rather strange.

"Bubby, dearest?" Coomer asks. Bubby is apparently back in one of his clingy moods, as he wrapped his arms around Coomer the second everyone decided to take a break and refused to let go.

Something about the word "dearest" irks Bubby. His eye twitches, which is definitely not the effect it had on him fifteen years ago.

"What?" Bubby's obviously fighting against a harsh tone, a contrast to the fact he's currently holding onto Coomer for dear life.

"I wanted to make sure you were doing alright, after yesterday," Coomer continues. "You’ve been on edge today."

Bubby grimaces. "Maybe it's the alien invasion we're fighting off."

"You know that's a flimsy excuse."

"What does it matter?" Bubby huffs. "What does any of this matter?"

In all his years of comforting Bubby, of offering words of encouragement in the face of dire circumstances, Coomer has never fallen short of words like he has now. How can he provide him with answers that he himself is reaching for?

Bubby notices his hesitance and sighs, tired. His eyes are stern and hollow. Without another word he stands, joining the rest of the group and leaving Coomer behind.

☆*☆

Coomer is too trusting. How many times over the years has Bubby called him a fool? Lambasted his desire to look for the good? 'The world isn't as kind as you imagine it, Harold, get your head out of the clouds.'

Bubby and Benrey betray Gordon. Walking towards that dreaded room, Coomer notices that same hollow expression on Bubby's face, his words betraying him.

A second before the lights go out on Gordon, Coomer sees the most twisted grin worm its way onto Bubby's face. A grin he can hear wiped away when Gordon screams in pain, knife tearing through flesh.

The whole time, Coomer is frozen in place. His PowerLegs feel more like stone than advanced cybernetic enhancements. His friend is being hurt, right in front of him! And he can’t…

He can’t..

Do anything.

It's fifteen years ago, all over again.

The second the thought crosses his mind, Coomer makes an excuse to run, hoping at least someone will follow him. He can't let this happen again, he can't be trapped by his own inaction! Gordon might be beyond saving, but they aren't!

Nobody pursues. Coomer finds himself wandering the halls of Black Mesa. Alone.

☆*☆

Stupid.

Useless.

Cowardly.

Selfish.

Spineless.

Coomer realizes it's no wonder he lost Bubby. He didn’t deserve them.

☆*☆

The clones end up being good for something after all.

When you have three hundred subhuman extensions of yourself, it turns out you have what could be described as a one-man army.

☆*☆

Coomer has a plan. Screw everything else, he's fucked up beyond measure in here. He is getting out of this game, one way or another.

He's got all the clones he could find, one surging attack should do the trick. After all, the man is suffering from a recent amputation, he shouldn't be that hard to take down. Well, Coomer didn't anticipate Tommy, but that's not too big of a wrench. He's knocked down, he stands, ready to fight again, but...

But he sees Gordon. So weak, so bloody, so delirious. And yet still walking.

The anger recedes. Coomer stands down, offering peace instead. Despite everything, he can’t bring himself to hate Gordon.

☆*☆

They find Bubby locked up in their tube, and with the way they enter the room, Coomer doesn't even realize they're in there at first.

Coomer is angry, he's furious at Bubby for their betrayal. They sold Gordon, their friend, out to the military! Of all people!

But seeing Bubby back in their tube, pounding on the glass, begging to be let out, for Gordon to understand they were tricked and lied to.

It isn't right.

If Coomer can get a second chance after the stunt he pulled, then Bubby can as well.

☆*☆

They stop for the night in a small room that they climbed into through the roof. As the group talks, Coomer sits next to Bubby, even lays near them when it's time to go to sleep. But he can tell, from the way their eyes keep glancing towards the bloody stump where Gordon's hand used to be, that their mind is elsewhere.

Bubby doesn't reach out for him at night, and after the day they've all had, Coomer isn't sure he should make the first move. Still, even subconsciously, they lay back-to-back as they sleep.

Until Coomer's back suddenly feels cold.

He sits up, noticing Bubby has woken up and is trying to worm their way back onto the roof. Their eyes meet for a moment, both of them silent before Bubby climbs up.

Coomer decides to follow.

The sight Coomer finds is not unfamiliar to him. Bubby sits on the roof, their knees drawn to their chest, gazing up at the starry sky above them. Their eyes are not full of their usual wonder. When Coomer sits down next to them, they finally speak.

"I fucked up," Bubby confesses, eyes still glued to the sky.

Coomer already knew that, but... "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I-" Bubby starts, but they swallow and try again. "When I saw the void, I thought that meant that nothing here mattered." Coomer wraps an arm around Bubby, and they lean into him. "That my whole life, what happened to us, it was all fake and meaningless."

"But we're real," Coomer says, not a lecture, but an affirmation. "We love, we feel pain, we have fun. To an extent, we're alive."

"That we are," Bubby agrees. They pause for a beat, before revealing, "I hated you."

Coomer remains quiet, mostly out of confusion.

Bubby pulls back to face him. "Biological Research knew the whole time that you were seeing me. They thought you were a good influence, so they didn't step in." They grip the sleeve of Coomer's lab coat. "But that day, they mentioned it to me, and I… I just snapped."

Vaguely, Coomer remembers Dr. Daniels saying he had "expended his usefulness" sometime before the cloning began.

"I wanted to protect you, Harold. You were the first good thing in my life, I couldn't let them hurt you," Bubby whimpers. "But when I needed your help, you didn't… you…"

Harold Coomer froze.

Something clicks in the back of his mind. When the soldiers attacked Gordon, Bubby knew that Coomer wouldn't act.

Bubby yanks Coomer back to their chest, holding him as close as possible. "I blamed you, and I hated that I blamed you, and I loved you. Harold, those first years without you were awful."

Coomer can hear Bubby crying, and he knows he's doing the same.

"I'm sorry," Coomer sobs into their shirt, hugging Bubby just as tightly as they hug him. "My darling Bubby, I am so, so sorry."

"Don't say that," Bubby repeats it like a mantra every time Coomer apologizes. "Harold, don't you dare say that."

☆*☆

They make it to the end. They're loomed over by the twisted monstrosity that is Benrey. They destroy their passports, and pour everything they can into knocking this bastard down once and for all.

Bubby erupts in flames, his body once again becoming a vague silhouette. Unlike the last time he saw this sight, Coomer feels no dread. There is no pit in his stomach.

This is elation.

☆*☆

They share their first kiss in years in a Chuck E. Cheese, of all places. After watching the two of them dance around each other for five days, Gordon finally feels comfortable enough to ask them what the hell their relationship status is.

Coomer opens his mouth to answer, but Bubby has a better idea. He tilts Coomer's face towards his own, leans in, and kisses him right on the lips.

It's like nothing has changed in fifteen years. When they kiss, it's like they're young all over again.

☆*☆

They survive after the game. Bubby questions it aloud one day, but Coomer doesn't want to think about it. Whatever has happened that allows their continued existence, it's nothing short of a miracle.

Bubby and Coomer end up crashing in Gordon's house for a few days, considering they don't quite have a place of their own yet. On day three, Gordon's son Joshua calls both of them his grandpas, and Coomer cries for an hour.

They move out eventually, when their government mandated hush money comes in. Not far, but Bubby clearly wants some independence. It's a nice little place, cozy but not too small.

Bubby never starts the conversations about marriage, but they're always an active participant. When Coomer had first brought up the idea, Bubby had to put their magazine down, their eyes blown wide.

"Holy shit!" they exclaim, realization hitting them like a train. "We can do that now!"

After fifteen years of absence, waking up with Bubby by his side, curling their fingers through his hair, is magical. The life they never thought they'd have—a house on the surface, with a family all their own—is reality. Coomer has never been happier.

All good things must come to an end. But Bubby has always been better than good.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Poisoned.”

Got this idea from a comment or ask someone made. hope this iw what they had in mind :)

Another galactic summit, more issues to deal with, and more problems to discuss, not the largest being the Burg war, and the attack on earth. Though it had been thwarted by the planet’s natural hellish landscape, there were still discussions to be made about whether the Rundi and the Vrul would help to provide a defense Nexus to the remaining planets. As well as disaster relief on the gromm home world.

The rundi home world at the GA summit chambers were, once again, rife with alien lifeforms. It was also, once again, rife with Rundi underlings who were trying very hard not to freak out with all the duties that were being placed on their backs.

At least one thing was made clear, there was no pint in getting human food for the summit, since the human delegates always insisted on trying all the other alien food. Leave enough of the nectar orbs from the Drev home world out, and that seemed to keep the humans happy enough.

Dr. Krill accompanied the Commander into the summit as was usual. Sunny was not with them today, seeing as she had work to do back aboard the ship

That left just the two of them.

Felt almost like old times.

The captain was dressed up in his fancy UNSC uniform, and as such, he was obligated to behave.

Apparently behaving didn’t mean avoiding arguments with his most important doctor, who --despite being a complete genius-- was hardly capable of getting the captain to agree with him.

“I just think that there should be better security at these things. All of the most important people in the galaxy are here.”

“Krill,  there is an entire armada outside, I hardly think we need to worry about being attacked by the burg. Besides, their attack on earth completely broke their spirits. There is no way they would try getting in here.”

Krill crossed both sets of arms, “I disagree, Commander. I have been looking into human history of warfare, and I Think that a spy could easily-”

“Krill calm down will you. Besides, species rely on the fact that you can disguise yourself to look like the other side. The Burg are so fugly that they'd be noticed in half an instant.

They came around the corner, and the Commander was nearly knocked onto his back as an Iotin brushed past hurrying from the banquet hall.

The Commander tripped back into a wall, “Woah watch….yourself.” The Iotin disappeared around the next corner, and the Commander looked after him with a frown, “Didn’t know those guys could move that fast. Wonder why he could be in such a hurry.”

Krill waved it off as the Commander poked his head into the banquet room, “Oh look, pink orbs!”

“Commander, don’t you think we should wait until after the summit, when the food is being served.”

The man waved a hand, “Oh no one will notice one missing.”

He quickly snuck into the room and Krill rolled his eyes as the man came out munching on one of the pink fruits.

“And they made you leader of the fleet.”

“Technically they are thinking of making me leader of the entire Galactic armada, but I digress.”

“Lord help us all.”

The captain made a face.

“What it’s true.”

The man shook his head, “No, not you, this fruit tastes…. Weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird.”

He shrugged and took another bite, “Not bad enough for me to stop eating it, so good weird I guess.”

He stuffed the rest of the orb into his mouth and licked the juices off his fingers.

Krill sighed, “I still can’t believe they would choose you.”

“Better believe it.”

The two of them walked into the main conference chamber to sit down with the other delegates. The human delegation was near the top tier, and so that is where they went, taking a seat  just to the right of the Rundi chairwoman’s box.

The entire room was alive with the sound of alien life.

Commander Vir leaned over to speak with one of the delegates and krill was left to watch the room. Most of the delegations were here, though the iotin delegation had arrived late. Seemed strange considering he had seen one of their number not long ago.

The light dimmed  a couple of times, and the chairwoman took her pedestal and began to greet the delegates. Krill looked on politely as was his want though he wasn’t entirely interested in the whole thing.

The charwoman could be rather long-winded when she got going.

He sat there through a good few minutes of it glancing over at the other human delegates on occasion. Vir looked almost sleepy, though that was almost to be expected, he was never very good at politics, even though he was involved in them so much.

He turned back to the delegation.

The commander shifted uncomfortably in his seat during a discussion about intergalactic trade laws, and Krill looked over again.

The man had taken to licking his lips repeatedly.

“Are you ok?” Krill muttered.

“Yeah fine, just thirsty.” He muttered 

Krill let it go through something made him turn back not to long after. The human was rubbing at his mouth, which appeared red, though he supposed that was supposed to be expected. Little lines of sweat were trickling down from his hairline.

He scooted a bit closer.

“Commander, are you feeling alright.”

He was waved off, “yeah, I’m ok, it just got a little hot in here as all…. Feeling kind of…. Faint. Maybe a little nauseous. I am sure I’ll be fine. Probably just need something to eat.”

The talks continued, but Krill wasn’t focused on them anymore. The commander was not looking very good. He was sweating enough that the collar of his dress shirt was almost soaked. The tint of his face had gone from healthy blush to a yellow parlor. He looked as if he was about to pass out. A few  of the other human delegates had stared to notice.

Someone placed a hand on his shoulder, “Commander are you feeling alright.”

“I…. I think I…. Just need to…. Walk around.”

His voice was slurred.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea commander?” Krill said turning his head to face him. 

His pupils were unusually wide despite the dark space around them.

“The human was breathing hard now, one hand over his chest. His dry mouth from earlier had gone, replaced by saliva production so excessive he was having to clear his mouth every couple of seconds.

He looked at Krill, and the expression on his face was enough.

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

The other delegates had leaned over sensing the commotion, and they stood to let Krill and the commander pass as he stood and wobbled his way towards the stairs. 

Krill could sense something was wrong almost immediately.

Dizziness, shortness of breath, nausea.

“Someone, help him walk.” Krill ordered not caring about the delegation anymore.

Their sudden movement had caused a bit of commotion on one side of the room. The commander paused on the stairwell, and instead of turning towards the exit, he turned towards the delegation floor. Krill tried to grab him, tried to stop him, but the human -- even in his weakened state -- was still too strong.

A muttering had grown up around the crowd as he staggered onto the floor.

The chairwoman stopped speaking looking on in confusion, “Commander, are you alright.”

The human paused at the center of the floor.

IN the main lighting he looked absolutely horrific. He was so pale his skin was almost yellow. The skin around his mouth was red. Sweat drenched the side of his face. He was drooling so badly that it was, at this point, impossible to control.

“The...food…. Has been poisoned.” He choked out through heaving breaths.

And then he collapsed to his knees vomiting violently on the white marble floor.

The entire delegation stood shock and uproar filling the room. Krill ran over to help the human whose arms and hands were shaking as he tried to hold himself up.

The sight was horrifying. Saliva dripped in strings from his mouth. His clothing and hands were stained pink from the orb fruit from earlier. 

Krill remembered he said it tasted weird.

Could he really have been poisoned.

A couple other human delegates vaulted over the railings and onto the floor grabbing the man by the arms as his strength began to fail him. His body was shaking violently now.

Krill practically scream ordered one of the assistance to grab a medical kit.

The entire room was in an uproar.

Krill jammed his finger at the Iotin representatives, “Don’t let them leave!”

The Iotins stood in shock as the delegation turned on them. The Drev delegation, weaponless, still managed to make a circle around the group, “Someone, go grab the food, and get me a sample!”

The commander had been rolled onto his side. His body continued to reject whatever toxin it had been given, though Krill desperately tried to avoid him aspirating and choking. That only got harder once the man began to cease and convulse. He had to reduce the absorption, but he also needed to keep the man from throwing it back up.

His kit was open on the floor, and he had the others help him With the tubes and medication. Adam wouldn’t be helping him now, so he would have to get directly to the stomach himself.

He had one of the other humans hold him as he inserted the tube and began with the activated charcoal. Hopefully that would be enough before they got test results back. One of the Rundi came sprinting into the room holding one of the pink orbs handing it over to one of Krill’s assistants who was ordered to test the fruit with one of the testing strips.

They did as told and the entire group waited for the results.

When the strip turned blue, krill knew what it was. 

It was at least similar to some toxins he had seen before and attacked the central nervous system in humans through absorption in the gut. The dosage had been too high however, and while the human could potentially choke to death, much of the toxin had already been rejected by the body.

“Someone cut open his sleeve.”

The uniform was ignored as the sleeve was cut open and Krill placed an IV reaching into his kit for the antitoxin.

“You…. Just have that lying around?” one of the other humans asked.

Krill nodded, “I work with humans. I expect them to ingest stupid things that could kill them on a regular basis.”

He was calm on the outside like a doctor should be, but on the inside he was panicking horribly. The commander was not looking good.

But he placed the IV and made the injection.

“Someone test the other food. I want to know if this was planned for just the humans or for the entire delegation.

His orders were quickly followed, and they found the toxin in almost every dish that had been in the banquet hall. 

“You should be glad it was the human who took it first.” Krill was saying 

“Why is that?” The chairwoman asked 

“Because, the human body is the only one that would have noticed the poisoning before it was too late. The human brain responds to toxins that affect the central nervous system with dizziness and nausea. For any other species, you would have been dead before the symptoms kicked in.”  On the floor the human convulsions had stopped. His heart rate was depressed now, but krill was keeping an eye on it.

The Iotins were still looking around in panic as the Drev glowered at them.

“What is the meaning of this.” Their leader called.

Krill turned on them anger in every line of his body, “We saw one of you leaving the room before we entered, and they were in a hurry. So forgive me if I am a little suspicious.” 

More uproar, but the Drev kept the delegates in check.

‘Come on, Commander.” rill muttered 

If he was going to wake up, it would be in the next few minutes if only for a little bit.

One of the other humans had ripped open his uniform jacket removing his tie and pulling the coat off discarded to the side. Krill was more than grateful for their help. Even more pleased when the commander opened his eyes bleary, his pupils almost back to normal.

“What… happened.” He slurred 

“Congratulations, sir, you saved the entire delegation from death by poisoning. You’re a hero.”

He groaned, “I don’t feel like one.” he leaned his head back onto the floor, “Catch the bastards who did this for me will you.” He licked his lips, “I’m gonna pass out again.” 

And he did as promised.

Once again the human body had managed to save the day.

Because as it turns out humans are actually a lot harder to poison that one might first assume. Give them to high of a dose, and they will throw it up, give them too low of a dose and it won’t kill them. Plus the human body is very good at letting everyone know when something is wrong.

It is especially difficult to poison a human when their best friend is an experienced doctor.

Whoever had done this, had not succeeded in their end goal.

And they wouldn't likely be free for long. 

[purpleyellow]

DNYL

NCT 22nd member / Dream 8th member

Bee’s Masterlist

“Bee is usually shy when meeting new people, but not when there’s food involved”

a/n: I fought every urge in my being to not name this “Doughnut need your love”. Don’t be shy and interact a little, ask box is always open. Any kind of feedback will be very appreciated💛

“Please stay” Bee held Renjun’s hand from her sitting position and pouted. They were currently in a science lab, about to shoot her solo scenes for the “Don’t need your love” music video and while everyone was enjoying their time to eat something, the girl had to go through her parts to be able to do so.

“Calm down, you’re going to do fine” The boy patted her arm with his free hand and waved someone closer “Look, HRVY is here,  he can hold your hand while I have something to eat”

“Noo”  she whined holding his hand tighter “You’re really going to let me shoot by myself.”

“Again, Harvey is here” He managed to escape her grip “And I’m starving, so do a great job,” He said giving her a thumbs up and bolting away.

Talking with the British boy wasn’t much of a problem for Bee due to them having interacted before when the rest of the boys were around, aka when she was more comfortable. 

The problem was more of her lack of confidence in the English language, the girl knew some vocabulary and could probably get understood with the help of hand gestures and pointing, but the fear of making a fool out of herself while trying made her resort to making sure the translator was around whenever they talked.

Swinging her legs that were hanging off from the table she was sitting, Bee gave him a smile while he sat next to her.

“Are you having a good time?” HRVY asked, giving her a thumbs up to help comprehension and the girl nodded, finding the courage within herself to ask if he had eaten already.

Thankfully to her, the boy seemed to have no problem in trying his best to communicate and started rambling about the food he had on catering, most of the things he said flew right past her head, but since the lady who was doing the translations was nowhere near them, Bee just nodded.

He asked a few more questions, and with every short answer she made a lot of effort coming up with, he gave her a story of his own, which may not have been completely understood, but she still appreciated he was taking the lead.

“Okay, everyone, let’s get to it” The director walked in checking if everything was in place.

Straightening her posture, Bee turned to the blond and waved her pointer finger around before saying “We’re starting” 

Yelping off the table, the boy gave her a fist bump and good luck before walking to the sidelines to wait until they called him in. 

A producer approached the girl and gave her a flask with some blue liquid inside, telling her to twirl it around while looking at it uninterested for the first scene. Bee who was still on top of the table crossed her ankles and leaned on her free arm, doing as the woman told her to and the lady gave her her approval.

Waiting for the director to start the shoot, Bee didn’t see Chenle and Jisung walking inside the lab, and even more importantly, she didn’t expect the older to suddenly speak.

“DON’T DROP THE GLASS” Chenle screamed, getting near her and making her grip slip for a split second, but not enough for it to fall and break.

“Why would you do that?” She whined and gave herself a hug trying to calm down. “It would have been your fault”

“Okay everyone,” The director said laughing at their behavior. “Let’s get ready to start”

“Do a good job” Chenle smirked, going next to the blond boy and Jisung followed him.

Her scenes were all very simple, she just had to walk around the lab while looking sad, occasionally someone would point out a test tube with different colored liquids inside for her to hold up or tell her to lay her head on a table. And at the end, she did a quick lip syncing shot of her lines, the girl was used to having around 10 seconds of a little rap, so she didn’t mind how quick the process passed by.

After her solo scenes were done, the director called HRVY inside to do their scene together. It was a quick clip of Bee laying on her crossed arms and him handing her a paper that would represent an invitation for the little club scene they had shot in the staircases. It was kind of corny in her mind but she did like cliche high school movies so she wasn’t complaining.

“Okay” Harvey cheered and hi-fived her once they were done, the girl chuckled and instantly looked around to call over Chenle, Jisung, and Renjun, who had come back from catering in the meanwhile.

“Where’s Jeno and Jaemin?” She asked no one in specific.

“They should be coming over any time now, last time I saw them, they were going to eat something” Renjun answered as the staff passed by to clean the equipment.

“Oh, doughnuts!” The British boy exclaimed and Bee perked up at the sound of food, looking around to see the missing boys arriving with a box full of sweets.

Reaching out to grab one of them, she got stopped by a hand holding her wrists and a British accent saying something she wasn’t even focusing to try understanding.

“Let’s do a challenge to see who gets which,” He said cheerfully and after the translator, who also bothered to show up, explained to them. Bee felt her shoulders drop, she just wanted to eat the chocolate treat without any more loss of energy.

“Do I have to?” She mumbled eyeing the sweet she was aiming for and Chenle laughed at her agreeing with the boy.

“Not flip the bottle” Renjun joked, remembering how he had lost a few hours ago and pointed to the board in front of the lab.

Walking there, they decided to let Jeno and Jaemin decide on a random but easy, in the girl’s condition, English word so they could play hangman and the winner would assign which flavor the other’s could have.

“I said easy” she whined after Jaemin put six dashes on the board.

“It is easy” Jeno giggled at her lack of confidence. “Guess a letter”

“E” Bee sighed, and to her surprise, Jaemin wrote two E’s on top of the dashes.

The game went around for a little bit without anyone else guessing the right letters, but as soon as Chenle called out a “D” Renjun raised his arm.

“Decide” He said smiling confident and Harvey let out an “Oh man”

Opening the sweet box to him, Jeno waited for Renjun to pick one from himself.

“Are you not going to chose one for us?” Jisung asked when he just went back to his place and Renjun shrugged his shoulders.

“Fight for it”

“I really want the chocolate one” Bee said fast enough that the translator hadn’t even finished explaining the change of rules to the new boy.

“Calm down, wait for the guest,” Renjun told her before taking a bite from his doughnut, after he was done chewing it he turned to the blond “Harvey, which one?” 

“Strawberry” Bee muttered silently enough so only Jaemin could hear her “Please pick strawberry”

“Strawberry?” Jaemin asked in a much louder tone and to her dismay in English.

“She wants the strawberry one?” Harvey asked with wide eyes “Oh, you can have it”

Bee wasn’t following much the conversation, but the words you and strawberry in the same sentence triggered her.

“No, no. I want chocolate” She said, making Chenle and Renjun burst out laughing while the other boys tried to hide their smiles.

“That’s fine too,” The blond said smiling and she happily turned to Jeno and waited for him to open the box for her.

“Renjun is the one choosing” Jeno teased her nodding to the older boy. Bee groaned and rolled her eyes, also looking at Renjun who laughed at her inpatient face.

“Just let her eat” He said, making her jump excited and reach for the beloved chocolate doughnut. 

[rina-writes]

Sharing II

Summary: Ethan thinks he has put his romantic feelings aside and is happy to maintain a sexual relationship with you.  Until you stop calling...

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of sex, References to abortion/pregnancy

A/N: The second (and final part) of sharing. Can probably make sense on it’s own, but definitely recommend reading part one. 

After Grayson approached Ethan about his relationship with you, the two didn’t bring it up again.  You two continued to have your “appointments” and then he had to travel.  He was going to New Jersey and then Australia, so he made sure to give you enough loving that would last you both the couple weeks he was gone.  

When he returned to LA, you were the first person he texted. He told himself it was like a drug addiction, not love.  He just needed to feel you, to taste you, purely sexual, no feelings.  You didn’t respond right away which surprised him.  You were always on your phone either doing work or sending stupid videos to your friends.  He didn’t worry about it externally though.  He focused on other things, like cooking and working out.  After three days, he decided to do something he never did before...he Facetime’d you out of the blue.

“Ethan!” You said cheerfully, an arm thrown over your face as you laid in bed.

“Wait...” Ethan smirked.  “Am I up before you? Ms. Early Riser?”

“Everyone is an early riser to you, Ethan.” You laughed.  “Welcome back to LA! How was your trip...or trips, I guess?”

“Great!” Ethan said, unable to stop smiling.  All his anger and frustration melted away.  “I was wondering if you wanted to meet up some time. I...uh...bought a few things we could use in Australia.  They have some toys I hadn’t heard of, and I thought it could open up your horizons.”

“Oh, Ethan, that sounds great.” You smiled, making Ethan blush.  

You had a way of making something so...dirty, sound casual.  It was almost like he just offered to take you to a new cafe. Not chain you to his headboard.

“Ah, but what day is it? The 23rd?”

“Yeah...” Ethan nodded.  “When are you free?”

“Well, I can’t have sex for another week.” You pouted into the camera.  “Doctor’s orders.”

“Are you sick?” Ethan asked, the concern in his voice.

“Oh no, just recovering from my surgery.” Once again you seemed so nonchalant.

“What surgery?” Ethan asked. 

Your eyebrows went up in surprise. “I guess a lot has happened in the last two weeks.  I didn’t want to bother you and didn’t know what your plan looked like in Australia...I guess I never told you.  I got my tubes tied.”

You gave him a thumbs up paired with a Cheshire grin. Normally, Ethan would laugh but this time he stared at you confused.

“Oh, uh, congrats?” Ethan said, with a slight frown.  “Uh, I thought you were on the pill though.”

“Y-Yeah...” You swallowed. “I was, I am...It’s just, the last time we slept together, I was having trouble with the pharmacy.  My insurance changed their birth control coverage and I had to change brands and it wasn’t at CVS....long story short, I hadn’t taken the pill in a month.  After we slept together, I remembered and I kinda freaked so, I got a Plan B.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ethan asked, trying to hide the anger from his voice. “Why would you go through something like that alone?”

“Oh Xander was there!” You said, a relieved sigh as you waved it off. “He took me to and from the surgery as well. Now, there won’t be any problems.”

You winked at him. You frowned when you saw Ethan’s expression getting more and more serious.

“You should have told me!” Ethan yelled, shocking you.

You stared at him wide eyed and sat up slowly, careful not to hurt the incision on your stomach. “Ethan, you know Xander and I don’t want to have kids.  No offense, but I didn’t think I needed to let you know about my family planning.”

“Well, if you got pregnant, it’s my kid...” Ethan argued.  “What if you didn’t take Plan B? Would you have gotten an abortion and not tell me?”

“Ethan, that’s different.” You shook your head.  “Of course if it got that far I would have told you.  Plan B, it’s like taking a week of birth control...it’s not an abortion.”

Ethan didn’t say anything for a moment. He wanted to calm down.  His hazel eyes was looking everywhere but his phone, as his jaw set.  “I feel like...” He paused and finally looked at you, his heart breaking when he saw your sad, confused expression.  “I feel like you should consult me about things involving sex. That’s what WE do together.  I tell you whenever I’m getting tested.”

“I still think this is really different, Ethan.” You nibbled on your lip as you spoke as if trying to soften your voice. “You having an STD, effects me. You and me having a kid, effects all of us: you, me and Xander.  It would complicate everything.  I thought you would be happy. Now, we don’t have to worry about anything.”

Ethan didn’t respond.  You sighed, as you watched him run his hand through his hair and then again and again.  Minutes passed and you finally decided to fill the silence.

“Look, Ethan,” Your face became serious.  “Maybe we should take a break.  Clearly, we have different ideas about what we are doing here.”

“Are you....breaking up with me?” Ethan scoffed.  “We’re not even dating.”

“Exactly...” You forced a smile.  “I’m just suggesting a hiatus.  A sabbatical, to continue to use our appointment metaphor.”

Your voice had a lighter air to it.  The one you used when you were trying to cheer someone up, but you knew that nothing you could say would help.

“Yeah,” Ethan said. “Or maybe we should just end it. Quit.”

“Ethan, come on.  You don’t mean that.” You furrowed your brows.  “I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

“Oh that’s hilarious. You have Xander!” Ethan yelled.  “You have both of us whenever you want! I just have you and then, it’s only 40% of the time.”

You blinked, tears stinging your eyes.  How long had he felt this way? Sure, you realized the situation was...strange, but he knew that going in.  Then again, it would be wrong to say you didn’t see this coming eventually.  You just expected this argument with Xander, not Ethan.

“You’re right.” You agreed.  “As much as I don’t want to end things, I don’t want to hurt you either.  I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel something for you.”

Ethan’s eyes lit up in a way that you didn’t expect.  It took you off guard and you almost lost your train of thought.

“At the same time,” You continued.  “I love my husband.  He is my soulmate. I want you to find yours. I can justify sleeping together, but I can’t hold your heart hostage.”

“Do you love me.” Ethan asked, his voice breaking.

You hesitated, trying to choose your words carefully.

“I cherish you.” You said, leaning closer to the phone. “I cherish you with all my heart.”

Tears rimmed his eyes and he blinked them away.  “That’s not love.”

“Ethan...” Your voice got small.  “Do you love me?”

The expression on his face almost broke your heart into two. So many emotions crossed his face: from his eyes dancing around, his quivering lip, and his tensed brows...you had never seen him like this.

“I don’t want to anymore...” He admitted. “But I know I do.”

“Ethan...” You hesitated.  “We should talk...do you want to come over?”

“Uh I don’t know...” Ethan rubbed his free hand over his face as if trying to wipe away the sad.

“Xander is at work, it’s just me.” You smiled softly, that made Ethan feel comforted, even just for a moment.  “Let’s talk.”

“Okay...” Ethan agreed, returning your smile.

You hung up and texted Ethan your address.  It was at this point that Ethan realized he had never been to your house before.  He glanced in the mirror and smoothed his white-shirt out.  He changed into his slim fitting gray pants and put a beanie on his head.  He stalked out of his room into the kitchen.

“Gray, I’m heading out!” Ethan called to his brother who was sitting in the living room.

“Where you heading?” Grayson asked, as he practiced a headstand.

“Uh, Y/N’s place.” Ethan said, trying to sound nonchalant.

A loud slam resounded in the room as Grayson fell over.  He stood up slowly, wobbling around, as he walked toward Ethan.

“I assumed you ended it with her.” Grayson admitted.  “Since when do you go to her house anyway?”

“I think she’s ending it with me.” Ethan gulped. “She’s just too nice to do it over the phone.”

“I’m sorry, E.” Grayson said, putting a hand on Ethan’s shoulder.

“Let’s talk later. I really want to see her right now.” Ethan sighed.  “I’ll let you know.”

Grayson nodded. Ethan grabbed his keys, got in his car, and put your address in Google Maps on his phone.  He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.  When he pulled in front of your house, a knot developed in his stomach. 

“Ethan!” You called out from the porch, waving.  There was an oversize cardigan wrapped around your shoulders, covering your pajamas. 

Ethan forced a smile and exited the car to walk toward you.  You ushered him in, opening the door for him.

“Welcome, welcome.” You smiled.  “Please have a seat.  Do you want water or something?”

Ethan watched as you hobbled over to the couch, clutching your stomach, guilt washing over him.

“You should sit.” He said, sitting on the couch in an effort to get you to do the same. “You’re still recovering.”

He took your hand and pulled you to sit next to him.  Your eyes met and immediately you leaned into each other to kiss. It was so smooth that it wasn’t until Ethan’s hand landed on your lower back did you tense up and break apart.

“Sorry...” Ethan muttered.

“Force of habit.” You smiled softly.  “Listen, Ethan...”

“Oh god...” Ethan groaned standing up.  You motioned to get up as well, but he shook his head.  “I just need to pace, but you need to rest.”

“Okay...” You agreed, sitting up right with a hand over the bandage covering your incision, the faint outline could be seen on your pajama shirt.

Ethan paced around, looking around your living room.  It looked so mature and lived in.  Photos on the walls, a mounted television, furniture that no one sat on, but looked good to have in the “foyer”. It was a side of you he hadn’t seen before.  Until this moment, you were a woman of his fantasy, wearing whatever costume he bought and engaging in any pillow talk he initiated.  Here, he could see it all. 

“On the way here,” Ethan cleared his throat. “I thought about asking you to leave him.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off.

“Now, seeing this place, I realize how stupid that is. I mean look at you.” He gestured to the photo collage on the wall of all your graduation photos.  “You went to high school together, college together, graduate school....good God, I can’t compete with that.”

“It’s not a competition!” You argued.  “You fill very different roles in my life.”

“But I want his!” Ethan said, pressing his hands on his chest as he looked at you. “I want his and mine. I want you to be completely mine. I don’t like sharing, okay? I have to share everything with Grayson, but I don’t want to share you.”

You looked down and gathered your thoughts.  You hated this more than anything. 

“I can’t give you that, Ethan.” You responded, finally.  “I know it’s not easy.  I feel like I’m the only one who is okay with this.  It’s eating Xander up inside, I can tell. How would you feel if you escorted your WIFE to the pharmacy to get Plan B and the cashier asks you, ‘Wild night, tiger?’ but you know it wasn’t with you? I don’t know how he felt, I can only imagine...”

“I think I do...” Ethan gave a sad smirk as he shook his head. “My brother saw you with Xander before we left for my trip.  He thought you were cheating on me and I had to explain that you and I, we’re nothing.”

His voice broke at the end and he looked away.

“We aren’t...nothing...” Your voice was soft.  “But, maybe this is too much.  Maybe, we should figure out what we really want, from ourselves, from our relationships and, most importantly from each other.”

“We’re breaking up...” Ethan sighed, forcing a smile despite the tears pooling in his eyes. “I know I said it’s not the same, but it hurts just as bad.”

You stood up and hugged Ethan tightly, and the moment your face was buried in his chest the sobs started to roll out of you.  He held you tightly, kissing your temple in a way that made you cry harder.

“I-I don’t want to say goodbye...” You admitted. “But, I can’t hurt you anymore. Not for my own selfish gain.”

“I just want to say it, and please, don’t say anything back.  I’m just going to say it and then leave. It will be over, but I just have to say to your face.”  Ethan took a deep breath and stepped back.

His eyes were red and a little puffy and you sniffled knowing your face probably looked ten times worse.

“I love you, Y/N. Thank you for this.  Thank you for giving me the desire to love someone again and to want to be loved.  God, I wish it could be you, but I’m so grateful to have had you.”

You almost spoke and you had to clamp your mouth shut to stop yourself.  You nodded, starting to cry again and Ethan pulled you into a hug.  He kissed your forehead and repeated I love you for what seemed one thousand times.

“Don’t delete my number okay...” Ethan gave a small chuckle. “...but let’s uh, keep our distance for awhile.”

“Agreed.”  You pulled back to stare at him.  “See you... one day?”

“Yeah, see you one day.” Ethan repeated, looking at you. 

He leaned down to peck your lips softly before adjusting his beanie and walking out your door.  You followed him, still hobbling to catch up and watched him drive off.  You watched until you couldn’t even see his car the size of tiny speck, wondering if you made the right decision.  You knew you would live with “what-ifs” forever, but you knew one thing, that you would never regret falling in love with two men.  You would only regret not telling one of them.

[avengerscompound]

Like Rabbits - Chapter 10

Like Rabbits:  A Black Widow/WinterHawk Fanfic

Masterlist // PREVIOUS

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Rating: E Square:  @star-spangled-bingo​ - a collection of toys

Word Count:  1790

Warnings:  Pregnancy stuff, smut (M|M, oral and anal sex)

Synopsis:  While you and Natasha are contemplating starting a family together, Bucky and Clint are doing the exact same thing.  So two couples go take the same path to parenthood together.

A/N: This is a Bucky/Clint chapter.

Chapter 10

It was about six weeks in total to take possession of the house.  In that time there had been a doctor’s appointment, but neither Bucky or Clint attended it.  It had been decided that the big deal ones they’d go to and if Natasha couldn’t for some reason, one of the boys would take her place, but doctor’s appointments were kind of personal.  Especially ones that involved pelvic exams.  So it would be better if they were mostly left to you and Natasha.  Clint worried a little that it might make them a little less part of it, but he did understand.  Besides, they were going to be part of the Lamaze classes and at the big appointments and the birth.  Not everyone in his position got that much.

You had also started to show.  Not a lot, but it wasn’t something you could hide anymore.  It was very tempting to keep wanting to touch you to see if there was any movement, despite the fact you kept telling them it was too soon.  Certainly anytime you were all around each other, Natasha couldn’t keep her hands off your stomach.

Clint and Bucky were focused on getting the house ready.  The plan was to get the kitchen and master bedrooms done first and then the four of you would move in properly.  There was a lot of work.  Some of it needed to be done by professionals.  The rest he and Bucky were going to try and do.  They’d already pulled out the cabinets and started the framework for the wall that would run down the middle of the room.  Today the plumbers were coming in and putting in the new sinks and dishwashers, so Clint and Bucky were going to start painting the bedrooms.  Steve had already started painting a mural for the babies.  He had accepted the request happily and Clint was surprised by how serene he always looked as he walked in on him.

Clint was meeting Bucky out there today.  He had to stop by Home Depot for a few things and just like every time he was sent shopping by himself he stopped at Target.  Partially just to get some snacks but partially because he really loved looking at the baby things.  He’d been bringing toys and clothes and other random little things home since the positive pregnancy test.

He pulled the pick-up into the drive (another new purchase, thankfully he’d built up a large savings account thanks to the fact his hazard pay was always huge and up until now the most he spent on anything was his archery equipment which was all tax-deductible) behind Bucky’s Audi and grabbed the bags of toys and the case of beer before heading in.

He found Bucky in the nursery with Steve.  The mural was really coming together.  It was a space scene and Steve had laid out what would eventually seem like the earth viewed from the pilot’s chair in a spacecraft.  He was currently painting the details of Earth now and it was impressive in the detail.

“Wow.  It’s looking good.”  Clint said coming into the room and looking on as Steve continued to paint.

“Thanks.  I hope it’s not too scary for the babies.”  Steve said, wiping his brow and smearing a large blue line over his forehead.

Bucky started laughing and grabbed a cloth, and wiped his best friend’s face clean like he was cleaning up a toddler.  “What have you got there?”  He asked.

“Beer,” Clint said, putting the case down on the floor.  “Should still be cold if you want one.”

Bucky and Steve both helped themselves to a bottle as Bucky quirked his eyebrow at Clint.  “You know that’s not what I was talking about.”

“I got some more toys for the babies,” Clint said sheepishly as he ran his hand through his hair.

Bucky chuckled and shook his head.  “How many toys do you think they need?”

“I can’t help it.  It’s all so cute.  I mean look at this.”  He said pulling a mobile out of the bag that was made up of little plush toys of all the planets in the solar system.  “It goes with the mural.  And … I got them a little Cap and a little Tony so their uncles can be with them all the time too.”

Steve gave a bemused laugh.  “That’s sweet.”

“You better put them in the closet to keep them safe,”  Bucky said.  “You should build some shelves for all their stuff.”

“Yeah.  That’s a good idea,” Clint said looking around the room.  “It’s gonna be nice.”

“You wanna go start on our room?”  Bucky asked.

“Yeah, you right being left alone, Steve?”  Clint asked.

Steve took a drink and nodded.  “Work better without the audience anyway,” he said.

“Alright.  We’ll leave you to it,” Bucky said and he and Clint headed down the hall to their room.

“I was looking around the carriage house.  There’s a bunch of unused timber.  It’s old and kinda weathered.  I thought we could make a… what do you call it… you know, when one wall is different to the others?”  Bucky said as Clint wandered a little aimlessly around the room.

He turned and looked at the wall.  “Yeah, that could work.  We should strip back this carpet first.”

Bucky moved up behind him and wrapped his arms around Clint’s waist and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck.  The tickle of Bucky’s beard on his skin made Clint shiver in anticipation.  “You know what we really need to do?”  Clint said playfully.

“What’s that?”  Bucky asked.

Clint turned in his arms and tugged on the waistband of Bucky’s pants.  “We still need to Christen the bedroom.”

Bucky chuckled and pulled Clint flush against him.  “You think you can keep quiet?”

“I can if I have my mouth full.”  He teased and sunk down to his knees in front of Bucky.

Bucky bit his bottom lip and looked around the room.  Clint loved that slightly panicked look in his eye.  “Door, Clint.”  He whispered as Clint moved to unfasten his jeans.

Clint sat back on his knees, letting Bucky go and shut the door.  When he returned and tangled his hand in Clint’s hair.  The light tug he gave made Clint’s scalp prickle.  He leaned forward and nuzzled and Bucky’s crotch.  Bucky unfastened his jeans and pushed them down.  He was already semi-hard and Clint’s mouth watered and he nosed at it and ran his tongue up the side.

Bucky’s cock twitched and jumped as the blood rushed to it.  As it hardened fully, Clint pushed back Bucky’s foreskin and lapped his tongue over the head.  Bucky tugged on Clint’s hair and Clint opened his mouth wide, poking his tongue out and looking up at his lover’s face.

Bucky thrust into Clint’s mouth.  Clint moaned, curling his tongue as Bucky tested his limits.  Bucky knew exactly how Clint liked it and soon he was gagging on Bucky’s cock as his own strained against his jeans.  Precum leaked down Clint’s throat and a patch of his own began to stain his jeans.

Bucky remained silent, as he clenched his jaw and fucked Clint’s throat.  Clint couldn’t take his eyes off him.  The way his eyes were set and his jaw twitch as he tried to keep it together made Clint moan into Bucky’s cock.

Bucky pulled back suddenly, nearly making Clint stumbled forward.  “You got lube?”  He asked tilting Clint’s head up to look at him.

Clint smirked and fished in his pocket for the tube he pretty much had with him all the time.  Just in case.

“I don’t know why I questioned that,” Bucky said, helping Clint to his feet.  He spun him and pushed him towards the window.  Clint frantically unfastened his belt and jeans as Bucky rutted against his ass and kissed his neck.

He shoved them down to his knees and braced his hands on the window as Bucky began to massage lube into Clint’s asshole.  His skin prickled and he moaned softly as he gazed out the window over the farm.

Bucky’s finger slipped inside him.  Clint clenched his jaw, trying to stay quiet as Bucky pushed deep inside him and curled his finger, stroking it over Clint’s prostate.  He added a second finger and stretched them.  The burn of Clint’s ring muscle giving under the pressure made Clint groan and press his face on the cool glass.

Bucky pulled his finger free and slicked his cock, before lining it up to Clint’s ass and slowly sinking in.  Clint groaned, digging his finger into the window frame.  “That’s it,” Bucky whispered, kissing the side of Clint’s neck.  “Nice and quiet.”

He began to thrust deep into Clint’s ass, sending wave after wave of pleasure running up the archer’s spine.  Each thrust of Bucky’s hips pushed him into the window and Clint had to brace himself to stop from going through it.

A pit formed in this gut and pressed down at him.  His cock ached for relief and throbbed, leaking down the shaft.

“Bucky… Buck… Buck…” Clint babbled as his hands opened and closed on the window frame.

“Mmm… what is it?”  Bucky said at a half growl.

“‘M close.  Gonna come.”  He groaned, as his cock jumped.

“Just hold it, Clint,” Bucky said, gripping Clint’s hip as he picked up his pace.

Clint groaned loudly and bit into his fist as Bucky picked up his pace.  He felt like a hot ball of lead had been dropping inside of him and he was about to burst into flame.  His cock throbbed and began to drip and it was all he could do to stop from painting the window in hot come.

With a sudden snap of his hips into Clint, shoving his cock deep inside the archer, Bucky came.  Clint moaned into his fist as he felt the pulse of Bucky’s cock inside him as it released.  “Hold it,” Bucky whispered, nipping at the shell of Clint’s ear.

Bucky slipped free and turned Clint to face him, before dropping to his knees and taking Clint’s cock into his mouth.  Clint groaned and leaned against the window frame relaxing as Bucky sucked hard on his throbbing member.

With a low groan, he came down Bucky’s throat.  Bucky swallowed it all and got to his feet, pulling Clint back against him. “It’s now home now.”  Clint joked, nuzzling at Bucky’s neck.

“Yep.  Well and truly broken in,” Bucky chuckled.  “So let’s make it exactly how we want it.”

Clint laughed and kissed Bucky’s cheek as he started to redress.  “That was the nicest way anyone has ever told me to get back to work.”

// NEXT

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XII: Fever Ray

Hmm...where was I? When I opened up my eyes, I noticed I was laying down in a bed, but not my bed. A Talking Heads song started to play in my mind, but I couldn’t remember which one.

I leaned up and saw a tube attached to me, and next to me, IV bags.

Did I get my organs stolen again? I couldn’t help but wonder. Sure, it had been a while since such a thing happened, but there could’ve been some debt I needed to pay off that I forgot about.

That notion was swept away as fast as it had been drawn up. Someone entered through the door in a pair of scrubs and that was when I realized that I was in a hospital room.

Damn, my mind must be such a fog right now, considering it took me THAT long to figure it out.

“Hello again, Ray,” the doctor (or head nurse. Or surgeon. Or could have been an intern. I was still trying to sort my mind and I felt like I was ready to pass out again) greeted with a familiar, icy voice. But no, it wasn’t Remora.

“Hi Shirley,” I opened my mouth to speak. It was more like a creak, a croak, or even a groan. Tired, weak, and a hint of hoarse. If I could bring myself to joke, I would have said that I swallowed hoarse-radish.

“I told you: I’m Dr. Cole-Slaw. We’re not close enough that I’ll allow you to refer to me by my first name.”

Ah, Dr. Cole-Slaw. The doctor formerly known as Shirley Cole. But coleslaw was good, too. Especially with the right ingredients.

I managed a smile. It felt forced, even if the intent was genuine.

“But that can change, right?”

“Perhaps, but when you’re my patient, you will refer to me as ‘doctor’. Understand?”

Such charm. It was good to know she took her job seriously. That’s why she was my preferred doctor. But the question still remained as to why I was there. So of course she would tell me before I even had a chance to ask.

“I presume you know why you’re here, yes?”

There it was. I opened my mouth, but she spoke up again before I could reply.

“Your wife found you all stiff and purple, and then you fainted. Fade to black. End scene. Understand now?”

Oh. There it was. The arm thing. I didn’t say anything, I didn’t even move my head, but she must have seen in my eyes that I understood the situation.

“We spoke about this a few months early when you asked for a check up. Even though it must have been an issue far longer, you just let it go untreated.”

She moved about the room in less of a pace and more of a march. Eyes focused on me the whole time.

“First, your hand got shot. Hole right through the middle of your palm. Hurt like hell, I presume. Fine enough so far. Except you did not clean it.”

“I went right to the diner and took care of other business,” I recalled.

“While still bleeding? I hope not. Think of the poor floor. Good lord. Such indecency. Don’t you have a first aid kit in your establishment? I would think so, given the business you tend to deal in.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I dismissed. We already went through that very conversation when I asked her to check out my hand. At this point, it sounded more like she wanted to rub salt in my wound. My untreated, festering wound.

“I wasn’t finished,” she dismissed my dismissal. Of course. I should have known better than to talk back to a doctor. She took a second, as if to make sure I wouldn’t interrupt her. “Then, you went on for months pretending as if you were fine. Your wound on the outside healed, yes, but you already exposed them to the elements. Your hand became paralyzed, and you tried to hide such a fact. Honestly, I was surprised it didn’t happen right after you got shot, but, delayed reaction. It happens. Moving on.”

I didn’t even notice until she turned a page on her clipboard that she had been holding one.

“So here we are: your entire arm has been infected. Not only are you not able to use it, but if left untreated, it will spread.”

Maybe I had been in the vicinity of carelessness. Things happened. It was an easy mistake to make. But now that I was there, I could get antibiotics and it would all be fine. So it was fine. No need to worry.

“Hey,” she showed some grit in her voice. “Look at me.”

Well, how could I say no? I turned my head, and she stared down at me, and for a moment, I thought it was in contempt, but I had a slight gut feeling that underneath her face mask (which was endearing), deep down, she was getting a kick out of this.

“If you’re thinking of telling me that it was all an ‘oopsies’ and you were just careless, don’t. Out of all of your faults, being careless is not one of them. You are nothing if not meticulous. So refrain from that bullshit.”

That was one of my favorite things about being her patient; the lack of bedside manner really made me feel like it was less a talk between doctor and patient and more of a talk between friends.

“In any case, it’s none of my business if you want to die, but rather than construct an elaborate ruse around your loved ones, you could have talked to a therapist. I know a really good one. I’ve got his business card in my pocket right now, if you’re interested.”

“Pass,” I told her, with less of a passion than I wish I had. It was the tiredness the IV gave me. I felt the lights would soon fade, anyway.

“Very well. In any case, before you decide to check out of this existence, I think you ought to know that your condition is treatable, albeit you may want to consider the treatment before accepting as it will involve amputating your arm.”

That serious, huh? What was this, the 19th century?

“I see,” I managed to form the words. “Is Sunny around?”

“Yes. In the lobby.”

“I’d like to speak with her…” but I started to yawn and drift off.

When I awoke, I was still in the hospital bed. Which was good. That meant I hadn’t been kidnapped by a gang wanting secrets out of me. Of course, I didn’t even know if I had any secrets left to tell. Not even the secret about my arm now that Sunny knew.

To make matters worse about how out in the open I now was, I turned my head to the left and was shocked to see Sunny seated right next to me. Her hands were on my one uninfected hand. I did my best to muster a laugh.

“Careful. You should really put gloves on.”

To my surprise, she didn’t look all that angry for keeping something so serious from her. Well, the seriousness of it was up for debate. It wasn’t like I had cancer. No broken bones. No coma, either. Worst case scenario, I’d die due to a lack of action. Best case scenario, I’d go out on a limb.

“Hey hun,” I smiled. I felt a tear run down my face, so I closed my eyes.

“Looks like you managed to slip one past me as well,” she remarked. No hint of anger in her voice, either. I think I would have preferred her angry. It just seemed more appropriate.

“What can I say?” I meant it to sound more cheerful. Like, “what can I say? I’m good at what I do and I do it often.” You know, to be jovial. But instead, it sounded more like I was asking her what it was I should have said. I opened my eyes and saw her look up and around the room.

“I don’t know, but you’re clever, so I’ll let you think of something,” she replied, with a chuckle to boot. Passive-aggression? Genuine playfulness? My mind was too fogged up to tell the difference.

“I think I figured it wasn’t important enough to mention,” I began to tell her. Good. That was a start. “Like it would just resolve itself, y’know?” Hmm. Did I really believe that? Maybe I should have started over.

“Actually, I figured it was a small problem. Yeah. Like, what was one hand, right? You were gone for a while, and when you’d come back, I figured you’d barely notice. I didn’t expect it to spread.”

She gave no reply. Maybe I needed to try something else.

“Or maybe this is just who I am: I’m a curious person. I test things and I like to see what happens next.”

Not that one, either? Well, I was probably on the right track. Just a couple more explanations and I’d be there.

“You know, when I found out last night, my first thought was that it was my fault for being away so long,” she said at last. “But I just figured it would be like usual: we’d both do our things, have fun, and then when I came back, we’d both have fun together. That’s how it’s been in the past, hasn’t it?”

“It can still be like that,” I assured her. “I’m never not having fun. Even now, I can’t help but laugh.”

She let out a forced laugh. “Yeah. Me too.” Then, she let go of my hand. I watched as she got up. “Tell me, what were you thinking?”

I still couldn’t detect any anger. It didn’t even sound like she was upset.

“Ah…” I think it took me a moment to find the means to speak again.

“It wasn’t planned,” I told her at last. “It was the night in which I set out to recruit Remora. When I went to speak with her, I ended up irritating her just enough to the point that she shot right through the palm of my hand.” Oh, all of that was such old news, it didn’t seem worth repeating. But I did so just in case I never told her. “The pain was intense, and indeed, much blood was spilled. I took it all in stride, however. After all, I understood that it was a risk. In spite of her not being very emotional, she can be rather violent to those who piss her off. Or maybe that was the old her.”

I continued after I drew a quick breath. “I figured the handkerchief would suffice to stop the bleeding, and then I’d treat it later. After all, it wasn’t the first time I’ve been shot at.”

“Indeed, but go on…” My sunshine replied. So I did.

“I guess I treated it. Somewhat. The wound closed, there wasn’t a hint of blood. It was kind of a DIY job. In other words, it hurt like hell. Somewhere along the line, I started to notice that I was losing function of my right hand. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. By then, I just figured I may as well let it happen. Later, I had Dr. Cole-Slaw check it out and she confirmed. At the time, suggesting that I take antibiotics. Or that I should have taken them. Oh, it’s such a blur right now.”

“But you didn’t?”

“I didn’t. I figured, ‘why?’ If it was going to get worse, why not just let it happen? I’m someone who deals in high risks and high rewards, and sometimes, the risks and the reward are one and the same. You know how it is, right? Win some, lose some.”

I saw her shake her head.

“We both deal in dangerous things. I’m not upset about that. But if you know you can get your wounds treated, why wouldn’t you? If you don’t, how do you expect to live the life you want to?”

Heh. To that, I couldn’t help but smirk. I didn’t even care whether or not she saw me.

“To be honest,” I replied. “I’ve just never taken life all that seriously.”

After that, I went back to sleep. Blame it on the IV.

Of course. Sunny was still there. Times in the hospital was just like that; asleep, awake. Asleep, awake.

“Still here?” I asked.

“Of course! Can’t get rid of me that easily. Unless you want to lose that bet, too.”

I managed a chuckle. Ah, nostalgia.

“Hey, remember when we first met?” She sprung the question out of the blue. Just like Sunny. We were both such nostalgic people.

“You mean the night we got married? How could I forget?” I retorted.

I wondered how she saw it, and if I saw it the same way.

Ah, but before I got too ahead of myself, that wasn’t the story I told people, now was it? I’d often tell people that Sunny and I were high school sweethearts, a young couple who would spend time on the school bleachers during the sports team’s off-season. That wasn’t quite how we met, though. There were enough details that were true so that the “high school sweethearts” story wasn’t a total lie: for one, we did attend the same high school, and coincidentally, we did tend to sit at the same bleachers during the sports team’s off season.

We just never really noticed each other until way later.

So the version of the story that we told others was sweet enough. An ideal narrative. Maybe because the truth was far more ridiculous.

See, it was at a county fair, or something of the like, when it all happened. I passed by rigged games and carnival rides. Cotton candy, elephant ears, and hot dog stands all paraded as well. Wherever the crowds would migrate to, there was something ready to sucker others out of their money. Which was what brought me there in the first place.

I looked around and thought of all the ways I could make easy money fast; all I had to do was come up with a rigged game with a cheap prize attached and dollar after dollar would drop. Children begging their parents, a romantic partner urging the other to keep going to win them something. I already saw it all around me.

But before I could plan too far ahead with my scheme, I was stopped by the voice of an old woman.

“Heya sonny,” she crooned. It was funny, because she referred to me, and not Sunny. “I’ll read your fortune for a dollar.”

I laughed. I laughed so much that I decided to let myself get swept up in the thieving festivities.

“Very well,” I sneered while pulling out a dollar. “Let’s see what you got.”

She told me to hold out my palm. Great! She really played up the act! Excellent! After she closed her eyes, she took a moment, then said:

“The next person you meet will be the love of your life.”

Oh my! That was too good! Out of all the bold psychic statements, that’s the one she had to go with, huh? Very well, I thought. I’ll take her up on her bet.

I turned around and saw a buxom lass with curly brown hair all tied up in a thick, long pony tail.

“Hey there,” I said to her and pointed to the psychic’s booth. “Nice to meet ya, I’m Ray. I know we just met and all, but wanna prove this psychic right and get married?”

That was it. The moment that should have sealed the deal and proven that psychics were just as fake as all the other attractions.

She laughed. Like, a real chortle. Just a full-on hoot right there. Then, she put her hand on my shoulder, smiled a daring smile, and said, “that sounds stupid! I’m in!”

With that, the two of us left the fair and went down to the courthouse to fill out a marriage certificate. It only cost us, like, what? Fifty bucks? Afterward, since the day was still young, we opted to sit out on the grassy fields of a park.

“So, husband and wife, huh?” She turned to me and laughed.

I can’t believe that actually came true, I must’ve thought. Then again, it’s all in the wording. She never said anything about getting married. Just ‘love of your life’. We’ll see how this goes.

“It would appear so,” I nodded along. Then, I got a call from my best friend/roommate, Lucky.

“Hey bro, we still up for sucking each other off tonight?” He asked in that shameless manner that I loved about him. Too bad I had to be the bearer of bad news.

“Sorry, I’m married now,” I broke it to him in a nonchalant manner.

“Whoa. Dude. Since when?”

“Just now. We decided to prank a fortune teller.”

“Well grats, bro! Wish I was invited to the wedding.”

“Yeah, well, we didn’t have one.”

“All right, well, just to let ya know, I still expect cuddles tonight.”

“Of course. Talk to you later.”

I hung up the call and put the phone back into my pocket. Sunny must’ve heard the whole thing.

“Should we have had a wedding?” She asked, then changed her mind. “Ah, but then my family would want to be invited, and then they’d hate that I married a scoundrel. My mom and sister alike would’ve probably taken me aside and say, ‘you should’ve married someone nice and have kids’, which, y’know. Totally boring.”

I gave it a good thought and took zero offense to any of that. I knew who I was, and I was good at who I was.

“I get that. I got no problem with kids, myself. I used to launder money at a daycare. If I recall, I had a drug dealing business at the time. Don’t remember which drug, though.”

“Far out! The most adventurous thing I’ve ever done is explore abandoned buildings. Sometimes I find cool things people left behind and it makes for nice keepsakes!”

“You don’t say,” I made a note of what she said. “Well, I wouldn’t call what I do ‘adventurous’. It’s all about knowing the right people and avoiding the wrong ones.”

“Oh yeah? Then what would you call yourself?”

I shrugged. “I’d say I’m the wrong person who acts like the right person.”

I noticed Sunny pull something out from the corner of my eye. While my instinct wanted to say “gun”, I favored my odds that it wasn’t.

“Do you smoke?” She asked. That’s when I noticed that she held a joint between her fingers.

“Not really, but I keep a lighter around just in case,” I replied.

I lit her joint, and she took her first hit, which conjured up a mighty cough. She passed the joint to me and I got the clever idea to make a bet of it.

“Betcha I can take a hit without coughing.”

“You’re on,” she challenged my bluff.

Alas, it had been my first time, and although I would end up getting high many more times in the future, luck was not on my side. Within seconds of inhalation, my lungs waged a war against me and it took me a good bit to settle down.

“Oh yeah. Forgot to mention. This is the dank shit right here.”

We laughed along as we got to know each other more while waiting for the high to set in.

“So, like, get this...I’m like, pretty sure my sister’s into chicks, but she’s too preoccupied with the notion of being a caretaker or something like that. Like, she talks wanting a family ‘n shit, but it’s, like, so obvious.”

“Who’s to say you can’t have both?” I suggested.

“Oh yeah, totally. That’s me. I’m into chicks, but I also, like, guys are cool, too, and either way, it’s a win for me. Y’know?”

“Yeah, I get that. You did hear what I said to my bro on the phone, yeah?”

“It’s like they say, man! Boys will be boys! That’s what dudes do, right? Dudes…”

I had the faintest suspicion she was more high than I was. Maybe I just had a stronger tolerance. Case in point, while she was divulging her family’s details, I was busy thinking about business. So of course, a business idea popped into my head.

“So, like, get this: what if someone opened up a diner, yeah? But get this, it was, like, in the most remote part of the arctic.”

“That’d be dope! What would it be called?”

It could be called something like ‘Dope Diner’ or ‘Sunny Ray Diner’, but none of those had the right ring to them. “Do restaurants even need names?” I asked, aloud, although I was sure my thoughts were somewhere nearby.

“Whoa…” That’s when I knew I got her. “That’s such a good point! Like, you may have just cracked the universe! Lemme write that down!” She got out a notepad and a pen and wrote down ‘restaurants don’t need names’.

“So that’s the best part, right? It wouldn’t have a name! It would look just like any ol’ building, and you’d have to go inside to find out it was a diner!”

“You’re like, such a genius! This has gotta be fate, man! Total universe in sync!”

I couldn’t just keep that idea an idea anymore. It was too good.

“If we’re gonna do this, we should figure out where we’d put it, yeah?” I proposed.

“I’m kinda partial to Alaska, myself,” Sunny suggested.

“Nah, not remote enough. Gotta be somewhere like Siberia. Maybe Greenland. But the less green parts.”

“But green’s the best part!” Sunny started to cry.

“All right, all right. Settle down. Maybe some green.”

I started to cry as well. “I mean, who could imagine a world without green?”

We looked at each other, the backs of our heads covered in dirt, then, we both closed our eyes and smiled.

“I think the high’s wearing down…” I told her.

“Yeah, same here,” she agreed.

My legs felt like they were folding into each other.

“Are you also turning into a mermaid?” I asked in earnest.

“It’s all a part of the process.”

Somehow, as if there weren’t enough improbable things that day, we managed to stay out all night, asleep in the grass. When we woke up, it was early morning and we were ready to say our goodbyes with groggy voices. The same grogginess that carried into present day with me in the hospital.

“See ya around,” I waved to her.

“Oh, uh,” she got out her notebook and pen. She looked about as dizzy as I felt. Guess it couldn’t be helped.

After she wrote down her address, she tore the sheet of paper and handed it to me. “I figure since we’re married now, you ought to know where to find me.”

I nodded. “Good point. Shit. I forgot about that.”

“Oh really?” Her lips curled upward into a sly grin. “How about this, then? I bet you a dollar we’ll be divorced by tomorrow.”

Ah, we had just met and she knew me so well.

“You’re on. But just to up the ante, I bet you two dollars we’ll last two days.”

After a while of upping the ante, it somehow came to the agreement that whoever broke up with the other would have to forfeit money proportional to the amount of days we lasted. So it went, and somehow, we’ve kept it going for well over twenty-five years. Which was to say, the betting pool sure was huge.

So that was how the two of us met. More or less. I may have still embellished a few details. Give or take a few anachronistic details.

“Oh, and remember how we didn’t have our first date until a month into our marriage?” She continued to reminisce.

“Mm-hmm,” and again, how could I forget?

“It was one of those five star restaurants that only celebrities and people with reservations could get into, but you got in, and not only that, we didn’t have to pay for our meal. I remember asking you how it was possible, and you said, and I quote, ‘the manager owes me a favor’.”

I smiled, even through a sigh. “If anything, I’d say the way we met just proves how ridiculous life is.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “But I’d say that’s what makes it worth it.”

“Mm…” I gave it some thought. “Still, if I were to die, I’d say I’ve lived a good, long life.”

“Oh, quit it, you rascal,” she patted me over the back, though with her strength, it felt more like a slap. “You’re not that old! We’re both only 46!”

“I think...you’re right. Oh, you aren’t called Sunny for no reason.”

She snapped her fingers. “Besides, how will I know what schemes you’ll come up with next if you’re dead? The suspense would kill me!”

“Actually,” I thought it over. “I prefer living with no regrets, and, well...if I’m going to keep going, I’d like to be able to talk to my daughter again.”

“Oh...uh...right. Our daughter,” I noticed Sunny look away and out the window. “Man, I really wish we could be doing some heist stuff right now. Parenting was never my strong suit.”

“Nor was it mine,” I told her. “But even still, I care about her, and I wish we’d talk to her.”

“But what would we say? And hasn’t it been, like, what? Six years or something? We’re probably way late on that, and she probably hates us for not saying anything for so long. I don’t think there’s anything we could say to fix that.”

“She has that right. I just want to take a gamble on trying, all the same.”

“Very well. Are you sure you can hold your phone in your current state, though?” She asked, and I found myself drifting off to sleep once more with the words spilling from my mouth, “I’m not ambidextrous for no reason.”

When I woke up once more, I checked the clock to see that a few hours had passed. Sunny was no longer in the room, but my phone lay at my lap. Before I could reach over to hold the phone and dial Violette’s number, the door opened up and Dr. Cole-Slaw appeared once more in her signature scrubs.

“So, have you made a decision?” She asked. Right to the point.

“Yeah...I think I’ll go out on a limb, if you know what I mean.”

She groaned. “That’s such a terrible joke, but it’s at least better than you being miserable, so I’ll take it.”

“You’re the best, coleslaw,” I took the time to remind her.

“Repeat after me: D-R. Doctor.”

“Doctor.”

“Good. Now let’s see if you’ll be calling me the best after you wake up and find yourself missing an arm.”

“Oh, before we start the surgery, can I make a phone call?” I remembered what I wanted to do.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t you? It’s going to be a bit before we get everything ready. I don’t think the infection’s gonna spread past your arm in the next couple hours. You should be fine. But if not, yell as loud as you can, and maybe I’ll hear you.”

Ah, how was I so blessed to know such people as Shirley Cole-Slaw and Sunny Reyes/Sunshine? Oh. Right. Sunshine. Rays. I forgot why I had my phone in the first place. I dialed Violette’s number and let it ring.

After a few rings, no answer. Default voicemail message. I decided not to leave a message. But, Violette called back right as I was about to set my phone down.

“Ray, do you even know what time it is?” She sounded mad, like I just woke her up. Maybe I did.

“Not really. Time stopped having any meaning to me ever since I showed up at the hospital,” I replied.

“Oh my god! Are you all right?!”

“Yeah. I’ll live. I’m just getting my arm chopped off. Though I thought about letting it get worse and dying, but, what’ll you do, am I right?”

“That does NOT sound all right! I thought your bodyguard was supposed to protect you!”

Huh? Bodyguard? Did she just assume I had one of those? Though when I thought about it, I had a good idea what was going on.

“Ah, right. My bodyguard. Well, shit happens, y’know? Nobody’s perfect, not even bodyguards.”

“Still, you need to be more careful. Damn near gave me a heart attack, and it’s still early in the morning.”

“Oh yeah. How are you doing? Met anyone new?”

“Really? You called just for that? I thought you’d call over something more important.”

“I did, but who says I can’t check in with you?”

“Ugh. Well, there’s nothing to say. I’m better off staying at home and taking care of Elodie.”

“You haven’t tried at all?”

“Not since I got duped by your bodyguard.”

Right. I was definitely going to have a talk with my “bodyguard” about that.

“Well, keep your chin up.”

“Okay, but is that all you called about?”

“I also wanted to see if I could talk to Elodie for a bit,” I admitted. My heart started to race as the two options, whether I spoke with her or not, both gave me equal measure excitement and anxiousness. “Think I could do that?”

“Yes. Er. No. Maybe. I don’t think she’d like that.” Sunny was right. So it seemed. Even still, I  But maybe...er...I could try. Hold on.”

I heard her get up and open Elodie’s door. Though she held her hand in front of the phone, I could still hear her say, “hey Elodie, it’s your dad. Wanna talk to him?”

I couldn’t make out what Elodie said, but I was ready to accept whatever outcome I was given.

“Hello?” Came a hoarse, but still sweet voice. To my surprise, I recognized it as her. Even six years later, I was able to tell what she sounded like.

“Hey...kind of unexpected, huh?” I answered.

“Yeah.”

“To be honest, I wanted to say something for a while, but I could never figure out what, and it felt like whatever I could have said wouldn’t have been good enough to make up for the pain I thought I caused you. But the longer it went, the more I felt like it was too late, and it became a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“Yeah? So now you decided to try? You didn’t even bother to send me a birthday card.”

I deserved that. I expected it, and she was right to be upset. Angry, even.

“You’re right. I’ll send you one on your next birthday. And I’ll send you six more to make up for the other birthdays I’ve missed.”

“That’s not going to mean anything! You still missed them!”

“Again, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“...Still, even just like this. I guess it’s better than nothing,” she grumbled. “So thanks.”

“If you want, I can call more often. I want to say I’d visit you in the future, too, but we’ll see. One day, it would be nice if you could visit up here as well, but it hasn’t been very safe lately…”

“Maybe. But I don’t know.”

“Well, even like this. It’s a start.”

“Yeah,” she may have said to agree, or just to get me off her back.

“I’m going to go to sleep now, but take care, dear.”

“Bye.”

I ended the call, then allowed myself to drift off once more.

When I came to, I noticed bandages on my right side.

“Well, looks like it was a job well done.”

Right on cue, Dr. Shir...Cole-Slaw came in.

“Everything came back good, infection’s gone. Still, there could have been complications from all sorts of things along the way…” She trailed off, to allow herself the element of suspense.

“...But there wasn’t. You’re all good,” she finished. “Oh. But I’d stay here for the next few days, if I were you. To put it lightly, you’re gonna be in ‘hella’ pain.”

“Gotcha.” It would be fine, then. I’d just appoint Tigershark as temporary manager of the restaurant. No biggie. As soon as Sunny showed up again to check on me, I intended to tell her just that.

“Oh yeah, and might I recommend physical therapy? Considering you may be a little off balance?”

“Sure thing.” I tilted my head up. That anesthesia must’ve been some good stuff. I didn’t even remember being pulled into the surgical room.

Maybe I could think of the hospital like a little vacation resort. Or a hotel. One where the food was subpar, but I was sure I’d adjust. Now, for the other matter…

As soon as Dr. Cole-Slaw left, I noticed another presence in the corner of the room. I closed my eyes.

“You already saw me, no use pretending you didn’t,” she spoke up. Ah, all right. Fine. I leaned up and opened my eyes back up. Remora sat there with one leg over the other and with a face of total disinterest.

“How long have you been here?” I asked.

I noticed her examine her nails as she sat.

“Hm? Oh. Not too long ago. The doc let me in. All I had to say was that I was a close, personal, family friend.”

“And she bought it?” I managed a chuckle.

“No. But a little bit of cash goes a long way.”

“So you bribed her?”

“No.”

“Then how’d you get in?” I asked, but then decided it wasn’t important. I guess a little like me, she’d continue to come up with a different reason, none of which being the truth. But if I had to wager, the first one was probably closest to the truth. “Oh, never mind that.”

“Good to see you’ve recovered,” she observed. “Though you should be more honest. I can’t believe you never told Sunny.”

“I could say the same about you,” I recalled what Violette had told me.

“I’m honest most of the time, unless the situation calls for it,” I could already tell she didn’t like where I was going.

“I already know you went over to see my sister-in-law.”

Remora looked stunned. As if “how? I thought I covered all my tracks.”

“I did it to get information on you,” she growled.

“Oh, Remora, Remora...you could have asked me anything. I had nothing to hide. Even if you felt the need to dig up dirt, couldn’t you have done it without hurting someone who had nothing to do with me?”

“For the record,” oh yeah. On the defense now. “It proved fruitless. The only thing she could tell me is that she thought you had a savior complex.”

Now that was a hoot. A whole riot. I began to wheeze.

“Oh? Do I go around telling Mr. Highwayman to stop robbing people?” “I know, right? I thought it was ridiculous, too!”

I shook my head and smiled. “But that’s beside the point. Do you really think she deserved that? She’s a good woman. A little naive, yes, but many people are. At least from my experience.”

“It feels weird being the one to be lectured. Especially coming from you.”

“Everyone’s got issues.”

“Yes. I’m aware. But I’m honest.”

“Mainly when it comes to criticizing others. But really? Bodyguard?”

“It’s not like I’d just tell her ‘yeah, I shot your brother-in-law, and now I’m digging up dirt on him’.

“Ha. I guess not. Even still, you don’t think that was a bit hurtful?”

“Yeah, but –”

“I know you don’t like when others are dishonest with you. Or when others are dishonest with anyone else, for that matter. So why doesn’t the same apply to you?”

“You’re right. I’ll think about it.”

“Other than that, kill whoever you want if you feel that’s what you need to do,” I gave it some thought. I wasn’t going to totally discourage her from her ways, but the complete opposite end also sounded a bit much. “Within reason. I added. No violence in the diner. People are there for a good time and a good meal.”

“I don’t know why you feel like telling me that. But yeah. Okay. Sure. Anything else?”

“Just the golden rule, don’t be a hypocrite. All that.”

“Hmm...about that…yes, but no. I’m going to have to take a raincheck.”

“Oh darn. Here I thought I reached you.”

“I’m going to need to hurt some people. Lie to those same people. It may not make them feel good, and it may not be how I would want to be treated, but that’s beside the point.”

“Why is that?”

“You’ve noticed, haven’t you? The lack of customers in your diner. The sudden blizzards. Mysterious fogs that appear. Creatures being where they shouldn’t. Even stranger creatures appearing, existing, attacking people, killing and laying waste, then disappearing into the night.”

“Oh yeah. Forgot about all that. Well, I’m investigating it. There just hasn’t been any more leads.”

“That’s why. They’re all linked. That I’m sure. I need to figure out why so I can put it all to rest. For that, I need to partake in a bit of trickery. I need you alive. And...I need you to have two functional arms.”

“A little late for that one, missy,” I joked.

“Get a prosthetic one. I’ll wait as long as I need to for you to recover.”

“Aw, I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t,” she shot back. “But I have a plan.”

“Care to tell me?” I tested to see if she would at least budge an inch.

“I’ll tell you as much as I need to. You may tell Sunny if you’d like. It would probably be better if you did than you didn’t.”

“I’m all ears,” and maybe it was the anesthesia, maybe it was a ghost memory of some really dank grass, but I really did feel like I was all ears and nothing else.

After she told me, excitement grew, and I couldn’t help but wish for the speediest of recoveries.

[anthonypaulh]

ITP September Awareness Campaign

The 2023 Global ITP September Awareness Campaign is upon us . Here’s  why it is so important and why we should all make an effort to get involved. 

Please check the ITP Support Association website at www.itpsupport.org.uk and www.globalitp.org for further details of how to take part. 

WHY IS ITP SEPTEMBER AWARENESS  IMPORTANT ?

One of the main lessons that I have taken from my ITP journey is that we all need to make more people aware of this very little known, enigmatic illness. Like most ITP sufferers, before I was diagnosed with it, I had never heard of it and frankly I really couldn’t believe that I had it. 

After my diagnosis , I just couldn’t believe that I had anything as serious as ITP. I thought that the hospital had made a mistake. Maybe they had confused my blood test results with somebody else. Once it became clear that I really did have ITP, then I got angry.

Why me, how can I have ITP ? I had never been ill before, never smoked, never taken any drugs and always drank alcohol at sensible levels. I had lived my first 46 years without ever being in a hospital for anything other than a few stitches from football/soccer related injuries.

Well, so what ? ITP does not care much about who it chooses and when. Unfortunately it can develop in anyone at anytime at any age and of any ethnicity, although we do know that it occurs more in women than men. In short, ITP is not terribly fussy, it can choose anyone, we are all fair game. 

In adults it is usually more stubborn than in children. It tends to disappear (often without treatment) in many children, as suddenly as it turns up. In adults it is rarer to see it go into spontaneous remission. But it doesn’t mean that we cannot live very full and positive lives.

SPREADING AWARENESS  GETS RESULTS 

There are certainly plenty of grounds for optimism and it is clear that our ITP Awareness campaigns have borne fruit. When the annual September campaign started back in 2010 things on the purple front were very, very different.

When I think back to 2006 and my diagnosis there were far fewer treatments available for ITP (For example - TPO drugs had not been rolled out) very few support groups, and certainly very limited numbers of blogs, social media groups, vlogs, let alone research on the scale we have now. 

It is worth remembering that until the TPO drugs were introduced the only treatments available for ITP WERE NOT actually designed to treat ITP. All of those options were actually borrowed from other illness/conditions and were not specifically designed to treat ITP at all. Now we have the TPO drugs which have been specifically developed for the treatment of our condition. 

So things have improved dramatically and as evidence of this I would urge anyone living with ITP to watch the many video films on the ITP Support Association You Tube Channel which explain the many treatment options now available to us. 

The whole approach to ITP is so much more positive, more patient focused and inclusive. It is just so much more optimistic and encouraging.

Making an effort to spread awareness has undoubtedly played a big part in moving research, treatments & knowledge further forward. 

There is no better reason to get involved this September than knowing any contribution we make is improving things for us living with ITP now, and helping those who may follow in our footsteps in years ahead.

However, we cannot be complacent, it is up to us to keep making others aware of our condition. We know what it is like to live with it day to day and it is we who can tell others what to expect. If we don’t inform people, then who will ? 

So please do help in this September Awareness campaign, try to get involved even if it is to take just one or two small actions. 

September awareness week runs from the 25th to the 29th.

#ITPAware #ITPAwarenes #ITPSupportAssociation

[geminimoonbeamx]

Oh, Baby: Chapter One

A/N: Okay so I’ve literally had this in my drafts for the last...six months or so? And I figured I’d tweak it and edit and post it since I’ve been so AWOL on this site lately, and so that I can give you guys some new content from me.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Heavy cursing. This chapter is pretty PG, talks of mental illness, unexpected pregnancy and contemplating abortion- but she doesnt go through with it. Smut to come. AND LOTS OF FLUFF TOO, I promise lol

Summary: After a drunken night, Y/N finds herself having to face the biggest decision of her life; is she ready for motherhood? And a better question, is Bucky Barnes, her long time friend and womanizer extraordinaire, ready for fatherhood? They’ll just have to go along for the ride and find out together. A Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Reader Story 

Chapter 1/6: The Baby Woe’s and Oh No’s

You knew it.

You’d known something was off, different, changed.

You sit on your toilet, your world spinning as you attempt to wrap your mind around what was going on. Everything seems sludge like, too slow and too fast and not real.

You’re definitely going into shock, you point out to yourself. The catatonic kind. You’ve been staring at the bright, sunny lemon print of the shower curtain, your eyes focused but not seeing. Your elbows rest on your knees and your hands cover the entirety of your lower face.

At least you’re not crying anymore. 

Nope, your body had moved past that-Maybe, it felt like the tears could start rolling again at anytime.

Oh god, what are you going to do?

Why, why, why?

Why you? You’d been a good person- well a decent person at least… You recycled and tipped more than twenty percent. Didnt vote for Trump and ate your vegetables.

And your life was just seeming to even out. You’d somehow landed your dream job a couple months back- every Wednesday night your voice could be heard on WNEX. You we’re making enough money to finally be comfortable- doing what you loved. Gaining a wide audience and wiggling your way into the industry. Your mind was so career oriented, so focused on your end goal that you’d never even considered something like this.

Throwing a big fat wrench in the gears.

One night, it had only been one stupid, drunken night. Hadn't you racked up enough karma coins to cover your ass for one fucking night?

Are you there god? It’s me, Y/N, and I really fucked up this time.

Wanda comes back into the tiled room a few minutes, her dark features soft and a colorful mug in her hand.

“Are you okay?” She gauges, gently, as she reaches out to you.

You snort and shrug, but accept the steaming cup from her anyway. You look down at the swirling, murky drink.

Wishing for just one moment that you could drown yourself in it.

“Look, babe, I know you’re dealing with some major shock right now- but maybe you should go lay down. We’ll figure it out later-” Wanda’s voice is even and you appreciate her being so calm and sure during all of this but you just can't process the situation enough to accept it.

You can't go lay down.

“Why not?” Wanda questions and you didn't realize you’d said that out loud, you hadn't even felt your mouth form the words.

Your head really is swimming. Disconnected from your body a little bit. You force yourself to take a drink of the tea as she gives you a more pointed look.

“Because I have to- I don't know. I have to figure all this out” You protest. You can't hear your voice, how spiked with anxiousness it is.

“There’s not much to figure out” Wanda supplies, unhelpfully as she leans against the counter, arms folded over her chest and you give her a look that’s half between a glare and a gape.

“Um, what the fuck do you mean? There’s so much to figure out, I don't even know where to start” You give a short, sharp, slightly hysterical laugh gripping the mug hard enough to hurt with one hand while cupping your forehead with the other.

“Okay, first things first. And this is the big one: do you want this?”

Well, that whole ‘I'm done crying’ thought you’d had before was a lie. You feel the tears well up once more and overflow, spill down your already swollen cheeks. Your face is hot. Your tummy is full of rocks.

You’d always hated crying. It never made you feel released or freed or lighter like it did for other people. It made you feel icky and stupid. And afterwards it always felt like you’d gotten punched in the nose.

Yes, you did have a therapist to work out those issues with, thanks.

Your mind doesn't know what to do with that question.

You look at Wanda, searching her face as though she might have the answers but she just shook her head and reached out her hand to rub your shoulder. That’s all she could offer. Her support in whatever path you we’re about to embark on.

And then you look down, at the countertop. That was usually littered with stray tubes of mascara or straightening irons. Bobby pins and half lit candles. All the things that resided in the bathrooms of girls in their mid twenties.

In place of those was now four pregnancy tests. All of which read positive.

The first two had been those double lined ones. Two bold lines- both times. Then you’d ran down to the bodega at the end of the block and gotten two more. And those we’re more straight to the point. They literally read the word pregnant- in a font that you don't think you’d ever forget.

Did you want this? Did you want a baby?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I dont know- I’m not ready. The timing is all wrong” You croak.

“Okay” Wanda coo’s “well there's alternatives then-” you squeeze your eyes closed at that thought “Either way we should make a doctors appointment to make sure you’re actually pregnant. I’ve read so many stories about how unreliable these things are”

She holds up one of the tests and rambles on about all of the online articles she’d come across. How some woman had taken a dozen of ‘em, gotten all positive results and then went in and had an empty uterus.

“For one, ew. I peed on that” You nod your head at the test in her hand and she rolls her eyes.

“Other side of it- and I held your hair when you got food poisoning from that shrimp shack. I’ve come into contact with worse body fluids of yours”

“For two- I’m pregnant. I know it. I’ve known it for weeks. I knew something was wrong and I just tried to...think it away, you know? Out of sight, out of mind? I sound insane” saying the words out loud makes you realize how...ludicrous those thoughts had been. But still. It was the truth.

She just nods though “You don't”

There’s a moment of silence. Stretching, as you stew in your reality.

“I’d be doing it alone” you whisper into the mug as you sip on it “I really dont think he’d want a baby”

“You would never be alone, you know that. You have so many people in your life that would support you with this” Wanda protests, sad that you’d even say that.

“You know what I mean” You push on. Because having a good group of friends and family wouldn't change the fact that you were possibly looking at the possibility of being a single mother.

If you decided to keep it, that is.

“Yeah I do- and I don't know if I agree with that. Bucky's a lot of things, an arrogant asshole at that top of that list, but he’s a good guy and I think he’d want to be involved. He doesn't give off deadbeat dad vibes”

All of that was true. Bucky is a good guy, at the core of him.

He was kind and decent and the two of you had been friends for years upon years. He was charming, magnetic and women loved him- you’d found it amusing, before you we’re the one in his bed after a drunken night a month ago.

He’d left your messages mostly on seen since then. You’d only sent a few, but still that had stung. Him icing you out the moment he’d gotten into your pants pissed you off, not only because it was rude but because it was expected.

You knew how Bucky was with women, it had been such an idiot move to sleep with him.

It made it all the more complicated that you ran in the same social circles- had all the same friends. Sam’s small promotion dinner a couple weeks ago had been extremely awkward for you, to say the least.

He’d earned himself the cold shoulder from you and no matter how many times he’d try to broach a conversation with you, crack a joke in your direction, or single you out in a group conversation you pretended he didn't exist.

“Damn, re-jec-ted” It had been so obvious that Clint had of course pointed it out, which was uncomfortable but expected because Clint had no filter like that.

Bucky had stopped trying after that- and started flirting back with the waitress that had been throwing herself at him throughout the night. You cut out early, claiming tiredness. And upset stomach. Whatever to get you out of there.

To say it was a shitty night was a bit of an understatement and you hadn't spoken one word to him since.

“I haven't talked to him since that night- and now I’m what, supposed to call him up and tell him I’m carrying his child because he doesn't properly know how to operate a condom?

“I don't know, yeah? It doesn't mean you two need to get married, but if you choose to keep this baby, that’s going to be a conversation you’re going to have to have” Wanda is so annoying sometimes. She was such a sharp thinking human- always grounded and level headed. She claimed it was from always having to be the “good twin” growing up.

Of course she was rationalizing this whole thing while you we’re floundering about it like a fish.

“I think I should make a doctors appointment” You just mutter. You’d rather focus your attention there. It was easier, cleaner for you. A goal you could actually accomplish.

And so that’s what you did.

//////

They were able to get you in at the end of the week, which in overpopulated New York City was a godsend. And still, it felt like far too long. Like the reality of it couldn't sink in until you talked to a medical professional so you we’re left in some kind of fucked up long until then.

You tried to keep your anxious mind busy, throwing yourself into work. Talking to people over the static airways of the radio about their lives; about the world and all of its workings was so much easier than talking to anyone about what was going on with you.

The only person who knew was Wanda and you’d canceled all of your other plans during the week, not able to face anyone. Not yet.

Lots of sleepless nights, staring at the ceiling. Thinking until your brain physically hurt.

And then you’d turned to you journal- maybe if you wrote everything down it would make sense. If you could see it all, inked out, you could make a decision.

Did you want this child?

Wanda had suggested making a pro’s and con’s list and while it sounded crazy and unhelpful, and you rolled your eyes at it ‘As though that will help’, you ended up doing it anyways.

You start with Cons, naturally. Always had been too damn negative.

Cons:

-I have no fucking idea how to be a mom

-Bucky???

-My job. My career. Who’s going to watch the baby while I work?

-How in the fuck am I going to financially support a baby.

-No room in the apartment/My room is fucking tiny and where will we put a baby

(Wanda said we can turn half of the living room into a playroom/makeshift nursery. How fucked up though? Not even a real nursery)

-No car? A baby on the subway? No thank you.

-Weird to explain to people even if Bucky wants to co-parent. All our friends??

-PAIN

-Pregnancy looks so painful. Birth looks scary. My poor vagine.

-Life is basically over

-The baby will not have a grandmother from your side...

You could keep going on, but you decide to stop there. You could go on, make the list pages and pages long but you decide against it.

Pros:

-I’ve always wanted to be a mom. Always dreamed of babies and motherhood, baby fever crashes over me in waves.

-Me and Bucky’s baby is going to be cute AF(and that just pure facts)

-I have a great support system- amazing friends and family who I know will help

-Bucky could want to be involved. He probably will...maybe?

-He has a big family, i think. The baby would have lots of family

-I don't want to have an abortion. All about pro-choice, but I just...don't know if I can.

That had made you bite the end of your pen.

Adoption?

Could you give a child that you went through nine months of pregnancy up for adoption? Knowing yourself- probably not. You cant even get rid of the moth hole ridden clothes at the back of your closet. Not comparing a baby to a jean jacket- fuck, see how unequipped you were for this?

-I’d be a good mom(I think)

-I could swing it financially. Maybe get a second job

-At least I have a good insurance plan now

-My life might have more of a purpose?

You hide the lists away in one of your many journals. Stick it in the wicker basket under your night stand- and revisit it too many times in those days between.

You make a lot of other lists in that time, too. 

//////

One of them sits tucked in your purse as you make your way to the eighth floor- Arms folded across your chest and the inside of your bottom lip speared between your teeth as the elevator takes you up.

Wanda stands beside you, of course. Sipping on her iced americano. You’d tried to tell her that she didn't need to come, that you were perfectly okay with going on your own. You’d gotten about two words out before she shut you down-

“I already took the afternoon off, don't be ridiculous”

You both know you wouldn't admit it, stubborn as you we’re, but you’d let out a big sigh of relief. You really didn't want to do this alone.

The waiting room is standard for this building, looks similar to the one that you sit in when you see your GP- save for a sign hanging about the door that labels it the OB-GYN.

Fake plants and those standard waiting room chairs that had that weird diagonal print on them TV’s that we’re playing the local news and tables stacked with months dated magazines. There was no windows though and it made the back of your neck feel hot.

The receptionists is nice. Middle aged with mild with droning, mellow voice. She checks you in fast and efficiently and tells you that you’ve got about a 15 minute wait on your hands.

Annoying, you think even though you give her a big grin and a sweet ‘thank you’. You’d been right on time. Why in all offices of all kinds is there always a fucking wait?

Wanda has plopped down on a chair in the corner and is fingering through an issue of LIFE, her long legs crossed at the knee. you sit next to her. The office air conditioner is blasting, it had been a muggy May in the city, but you feel overheated. You let the chunky cardigan you’d donned slip down one shoulder, exposing your skin to the chilly air.

You should feel the cold but you’re over heated. Nervous as hell. Why doesnt anyone else in this office seem nervous?

You tend to people watch when you get overly anxious like you are now. Tend to take in every little detail of every little thing around you.

There’s a black couple- the woman doesn't look pregnant but they’re holding hands tightly and they keep whispering to each other. He smiles and nudges her shoulder with his. Then there’s a Latina woman who looks just about ready to pop and is reading one of the kids book to a little boy with her eyes. A white lady, with twin carriers rocks them gently as she chats with a woman who looked to be related to her, maybe. Older and graying.

You feel like a creep but you can't stop looking at them all. Staring at each of the people who are at different stages of the same  life-path you found yourself on.

Wanda clicks her tongue as her dark eyes focus on the magazine. Muttering, her accent thick, about how the lenses they used for the shoot on the page was all wrong.

Her photographers eye was snobby and elitist.

“Y/N?” The nurse calls you back, not butchering your name which is nice and look over at your best friend.

“Are you sure you don't want me to come back with you?” Wanda whispers, big gingerbread eyes searching yours and you shake your head quickly.

You had to do this, on your own. What if...what if you ended up having to do this whole thing alone? You had to be grown, had to face this solo. That’s just how you felt, even if it might not be true.

“It’s just another appointment- I can do it on my own. I’ll live” there's a reasoning lilt in your voice that she doesn't quite buy but she nods all the same. Tells you that she’ll be waiting right there for you as you muster up all your courage and train your face into a smile, following the nurse into the back offices, the door mechanically closing behind the two of you.

The OB’s office is...warmer then you’d thought it would be. Her desk has frames of all types and her walls are plastered with colorful posters, making the alabaster of the wallpaper less daunting. There was even a window in here.

You’re perched up on the exam table/ chair thingy, staring out at the tall buildings across the street, at the people moving fast below on the sidewalks. You wonder what all of them are doing? How many of the have kids?...

When there’s a soft knock at the door your attention snaps back to the present.

Doctor Helen Cho is a petite Asian woman. She has glossy dark hair that's tied up in a clip high on the  back of her head, and her voice is friendly and her expression open as introduces herself to you and reaches out to shake your hand.

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you, too” You sound so much surer and more confident then you feel. It had always been your party trick- meeting new people and being able to talk to them. Leaving trails of barley there acquaintances in your wake.

“So it says here that you think you’re pregnant, yes?” She gets right to it, and your appreciative for it.

“Yeah, I know I am.  I took four tests and they all came out positive and I...I feel really off” you try to explain it, poorly but she seems to understand.

“When you say off, do you mean like bad feeling off or?” She probes as she sits at her desk, swivels her chair to face you. Her chocolate almond eyes weren't piercing or clinical, just waiting.

“Not really bad? But I’ve just been so tired lately and I’ve had like, zero appetite. And my breasts have been so sensitive that it hurts to put on a bra” as you tell here these things you could slap your head for not assuming you were pregnant before you’d taken the tests.

Dr. Cho hums and nods as she looks over her tablet “Well from the look of these results from those blood and urine tests your nurse went ahead and gave you when you came in, I can tell you that you are definitely about nine weeks pregnant- so those symptoms are right on with where you are”

You inhale and exhale, bigly. It’s real. It’s been real, was a notion, a happening but now...it’s so freaking real.

And there's a real life changing decision to be made-

That you’d already made before you’d even walked into this office but now seemed even clearer. Crystal, in that moment of clarity.

“I want to keep it” Your confident as you say it. Your voice cracks with some kind of emotion you couldn't even begin to explain, but you’re confident. You’re sure.

Dr. Cho grins at you, and stands, congratulating you then, after she’s sure you even want a congratulations. You like her, think you might.

It’s hard to focus on her voice though because all your mind can think of is the next big obstacle, the next big step in all of this.

How were you going to tell Bucky?

Okay guys? I posted? Crazy right? lol give me some feedback! Comment and tell me what you thought of this. I absolutely love interacting with you guys, but I’m sure ya’ll know that. 

Also- the taglist for this story is still OPEN, so if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters just ask!

@peacefulwriter88 @jaamesbbarnes @jalapenobarnes @brieannakeogh @gifsbysimplysonia @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @lostinspace33 @4theluvofall @plumfondler @tatathekissypotato @siren-kitten-his @skishenanigans @geekyweed @spidey-babe-parker @lastfallenstar @rachelle-on-the-run @prettybubblesintheair @dani-si 

[honeypiehotchner]

Trust -- part twenty-three

This isn’t the chapter I’m saying you won’t like -- that one (or multiple ones) come really soon, though. As in like, the next few. Oopsies. For now, enjoy this fluff. Enjoy it while it lasts xx.

When John says going to Barts isn’t up for debate, he means it. Five minutes later you’re in a taxi and on the way to the lab to meet Molly and Sherlock for what you’re not exactly sure of yet.

But as soon as you get in the lab, you realize what he means.

“A blood test? You think I’m drugged?”

You don’t feel any different. You don’t feel extremely exhausted or on edge like you would expect with a drug, or like what you’d expect from Gidon.

“I don’t know what to think,” John shrugs his coat off his shoulders, going to get the necessary supplies from Molly. “But if it means keeping you safe, I need to be sure.”

Sherlock stands a great distance away, keeping an eye on you, but being discreet about it as he still isn’t sure of the situation with John just yet. And how John is acting right now isn’t helping Sherlock any.

You wave him over, wanting him to be next to you at least while John is acting this way. You smile in relief when Sherlock does walk over, helping you get out of your (his) coat.

“Thank you,” you chuckle, forgetting that in order for John to do a blood test, he’ll actually need to get to your arms.

Sherlock folds the coat and places it on the counter behind you with a nod. “Everything alright?”

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully, watching John and Molly talk. “He thinks Gidon drugged me.”

“Hm.”

“You knew he was there, didn’t you?”

“Who?”

“Gidon.”

“Of course I did,” Sherlock gives you an obvious look. “He left the window open.” A hint of a smirk crosses his lips before he looks away, seeing John and Molly walking back over.

You roll up your right sleeve, the reason dawning on John as soon as he catches a glimpse of your left. He shakes his head as he sits on the stool in front of you, wrapping a piece of rubber around your arm.

The process is painless and over within a minute. John places a band-aid over where he inserted the needle, frowning when you give it a strange look.

You grimace, seeing your blood in two tubes on the rack. Looking at your own blood in that way is…unnerving.

Without speaking, he takes off with Molly to test it, leaving you with Sherlock. Something you weren’t expecting him to do, but you aren’t complaining.

You spin around on the stool to face Sherlock, wanting to tug him closer, kiss the frown off his lips, but you know you can’t. He gives you a warning look when you just tug on his arm to get him to look at you.

“Do you think I’m drugged?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re Sherlock Holmes, how can you not know?”

“Because I’m Sherlock Holmes,” he smirks. “And I rely on data. I need to see test results to be absolutely sure.”

You sigh, wondering why you didn’t expect that answer. “What happens if I am?”

“You never leave me sight,” he answers truthfully.

“Like I ever leave yours or John’s sight ever,” you scoff. “Or Mycroft’s. I swear, your brother is always watching.”

“Of course he is, he’s Mycroft,” Sherlock rolls his eyes. “But we can use that to our advantage, I suppose.”

“Yes, I suppose,” you breathe. “Have you heard from him? He’s been quiet.”

“Do you normally hear from him?” Sherlock asks, his tone venturing into an accusatory one.

“Oh, stop that,” you roll your eyes. “Not regularly, but he also doesn’t go silent for a week. That’s odd of him.”

“Hm, yes,” Sherlock replies, still not entirely convinced. “I called him when I realized you had went out.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “You did?”

“I needed to know where you had gone,” he replies quietly. “And I knew he would know.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “He has known for a while.”

“Who has known?”

You jump, turning to see John standing next to you. No more secrets. You flash John a sheepish smile. “Mycroft.”

“About?”

“The drug den.”

“Great,” John chuckles, the annoyance flashing over his face instantly. “Did everyone know about it besides me?”

You shake your head. “Just Sherlock and Mycroft. No one else. I promise.”

“So, basically everyone.”

“John—”

“The results will be ready soon,” he pauses to hold up his phone. “I’m going outside to call Mary back.”

           And just like that – well, after giving you and Sherlock an equally hard look – he’s walked out of the room.

           “That went well.”

           You laugh, Sherlock’s comment being so sarcastic and blunt that you have no other choice but to laugh it off. “Yeah… Things were good before he asked why I wasn’t having any withdrawals.”

           Sherlock’s eyebrows furrow. It is strange that you aren’t, but then again, the den you were in didn’t look like it would have anything heavy enough for you to have withdrawals. It looked like the place people went to get the stuff they can sleep and sweat off before work the next day.

           He would know. He was there before, too.

           “I almost had him on my side completely, but this ruined it.”

           “Don’t be ridiculous.”

           “I’m not being ridiculous,” you scoff. “I’m being dramatic.”

           Sherlock gives you a look of surprise, causing you to shake your head.

           “I just need to be dramatic for a minute.”

           “Yes,” he breathes, a tiny smile ghosting over his lips. He lets his mind wander toward John, knowing the man has only been outside talking to Mary for two minutes. Sherlock still has at least another ten before John returns, possibly another fifteen, depending on just how stressed John is. “Would you allow me to be dramatic for a minute as well?”

           “Yeah, go ahead,” you wave, moving to rest your elbow on the counter, so you can prop your head into your hand. “What is it?”

           The next sound that leaves your lips is a squeak as Sherlock abruptly picks you up, placing you on your feet in front of him, his hands coming up to cup both sides of your face. His thumbs gently stroke the skin beneath your eyes, his own gaze softening the longer he looks at you.

           Your hands fall to his chest as you steady yourself, giving him a bewildered look. Doesn’t he know John is just outside? And that Molly is just in the other room? Is he trying to anger John even more and cause Molly to tease you until the end of time about this?

           “I have not kissed you since this morning,” he says, which is obvious. “And I might explode if I don’t kiss you right now.”

           You smirk, grabbing the lapels of his coat to pull him closer. “We don’t want that, do we?”

           He notices the teasing in your tone, but he doesn’t care about that at the moment. His mention of exploding isn’t all that much of an exaggeration. The tugging he feels in his chest has gotten worst since being called into the lab, and seeing you, but not being able to touch you because of John has made it feel as though his chest might literally explode.

           But when he does kiss you, gentle and soft, like it’s the last time – because he doesn’t actually know if John will let you ever leave his sight after this – you hear all of that. You’ve never pinned Sherlock to be a worrier, or a softie, but every time he kisses you, that changes. You feel his sentiment toward you grow even more.

           After a moment, when you can feel Sherlock getting a little too excited trying to coax your mouth to open up for him, you pull back, giving him a look as you smooth his lapels down.

           “As much as I’m enjoying this, I need to remind you my brother is outside.”

           “Yes, I know, but it’s only been five minutes—”

           “Sherlock,” you interrupt him gently, chuckling at his confidence. “John is already angry. It’d be better if we didn’t make that worse, don’t you think?”

           “Fine,” he rolls his eyes, taking a step back from you.

           You cross your arms over your chest, sitting back down on the stool. “Don’t start sulking, either. That’s just annoying.” You pause. “And dramatic.”

           He smirks.

           And almost like a switch has flipped in his brain, he shrugs off his coat, tossing it on the counter before he begins searching through one of the cabinets.

           “What are you doing?”

           “My notes. I left them here.” Oh, so the frenzy he’s having is normal and not life-threatening. Sort of.

           He lifts a stack of papers out, tapping them in glee, which tells you he found the so-called notes. You watch as he uses his arm to shift everything on the table to the right, so he can spread out the papers to get a better view.

           It’s – Well, without trying to be too crass about it – It is rather hot, watching him like this. His intelligence has always been attractive to you, but something else is you’ve always enjoyed watching him work. There’s a reason he had to become so used to you watching him work and it’s because for a while all that you wanted to do was sit at the table with him while he experimented. It’s something you’ve always found yourself being intrigued by, and while this time it does involve your health and safety, it is no exception.

           John walks back through the doors looking a little calmed down after having talked to Mary, but you can tell he is still less than pleased with the current situation. You quickly wipe your face of any amusement, though, not wanting John to question why you’ve been staring lovingly at Sherlock as the detective goes over his extensive notes.

           As if on a schedule, Molly comes back into the lab with a paper – the results of your blood work. She moves to hand them to John first, which is when you then realize she printed two copies, one for John and one for Sherlock – smart of her, because Sherlock is impatient.

           “Thank you,” he says in passing, not looking up from his notes as he accepts the results from Molly, carefully placing them next to the notes his eyes are focusing on at the moment.

           You stand and move closer to John, glancing over the report. You’re looking at a foreign language, or might as well be, though, because you don’t understand any of it.

           John lets out a heavy sigh. “It’s normal.”

           Normal, so that’s good, right?

           “Not drugged,” Sherlock says abruptly, pushing himself back from the table. “Entirely normal.”

           You and Molly breathe a sigh of relief, giving each other a smile.

           “That’s good news, then,” Molly smiles.

           “Bloody good news, indeed,” John chuckles, turning to pull you into a rather sudden hug. “Thank you for letting me do that.”

           “Anytime, Johnny,” you murmur. “You can stop worrying now.”

           “I don’t know,” he pushes back from the hug, looking deeply into your eyes again. “You still aren’t having withdrawals.”

           “I told you—”

           “They didn’t have the good stuff,” Sherlock finishes for you, beginning to pack his notes away. “She’s quite alright. She would be having withdrawals by now if something was the matter.”

           You try not to give John a look, but you end up doing it anyway. The look is quickly washed from your face when John glares at you. Okay, still mad.

           “Yes, well, we still have some unpacking to do.”

           “Yes,” you nod. “We can go finish that.”

           “Alright,” John nods.

           “Bye Molly,” you smile, giving her a brief hug. “Sorry for that little scare.”

           “Oh, no worries,” she waves you away. “I’m just glad to see you’re okay.”

           “Me too,” you admit with a sigh. Your eyes then land on Sherlock who isn’t looking at you at all, but you know it’s because John is in the room with you. Without looking for too long to be suspicious, you say, “I’ll see you back at Baker Street, Sherlock.”

           “Alright,” comes his reply, his eyes lifting only briefly to look at you. And to your surprise, he nods to John and says, “Thank you for texting me.”

           John clears his throat, shaking his head. “I figured I needed all hands on deck for this one. Even for a false alarm.”

           “Better to have a false alarm than a real one.”

           John, again to your surprise, smiles. He smiles at Sherlock before nodding at you. “Right. We should be off then.”

           “Yes,” you agree, reaching back to grab your coat off the counter behind you, swinging it around your shoulders.

~~~

You return to Baker Street later that night after having dinner with John and Mary. You had texted and invited Sherlock, but his reply was that he wasn’t hungry, and you figured that was as far as you were going to get with that, so you let it go.

           221B is empty when you get to the top of the stairs, or seemingly, that is. It’s not until you venture down the hallway that you see Sherlock lying in bed, thinking.

           You knock on the doorway, getting his attention. “Hello.”

           “Hm, hello.”

           “Are you alright?”

           He closes his eyes. “I’m fine.”

           You cross your arms over your chest with a sigh. “Yes, I know, you’re always fine.”

           He opens them again, giving you a pointed look. “Are you alright?”

           “Of course, I’m okay.”

           He rolls his eyes then. “Yes, I know, you’re always okay.”

           You glare at him. “Sherlock Holmes, do not mock me.”

           “I wasn’t mocking.”

           “You absolutely were.”

           “I absolutely was not.”

           “I’m not going to argue with you about it,” you snap. “I was only coming to ask if you were alright because you have been acting as if you’re not. Apologies for thinking you had actual human emotions.”

           You leave the room on that note, venturing down to your flat for the night. If he’s going to behave as a child, then you’re going to let him, but not with you in the room. You don’t have enough patience or energy to deal with his childish behavior right now, and he knows it.

           After changing into your pajamas, you plan to put on a record and read for a while, but those plans are interrupted by a knock at your door.

           With a groan, you heave yourself off the floor to see who it is. For some reason, Sherlock is the last person you expected, but it’s exactly who is there.

           “I’m making tea,” he blurts. “Would you like some?”

           “Is this your way of apologizing?”

           “Possibly.”

           You sigh. “Alright. I’ll be up in a minute.”

           Taking that answer and literally running with it, he dashes back up the stairs, but now with childish glee instead of petulance.

           You shake your head at him as you go to turn off your own kettle and grab your book, taking it upstairs with you.

           Sherlock already has your tea made when you get upstairs, and he hands it to you as you settle down on the couch.

           “Ooh, thank you,” you chuckle, setting your book aside.

           Sherlock stays standing, clutching his own cup like it’s his lifeline. “I was mocking you.”

           You nearly snort. “Okay. Thank…thank you for being honest.”

           “But I didn’t mean to upset you.”

           You smile softly, reaching out to grab his hand. You tug him down onto the couch with you, keeping his hand in yours. “I know. I’m just very sensitive at the moment.”

           “Is John still angry?”

           You shake your head. “Mary helped me to calm him down.”

           “Then what are you sensitive for?”

           You laugh, taking a sip from your tea. How to explain something like this to someone like Sherlock Holmes? “To be blunt, I worry about as much as John does.”

           “What are you worrying for?”

           “Mary Josephine is still out there somewhere, Gidon I’m sure talked to me the other night but I don’t remember, and I haven’t done any Christmas shopping.”

           “Christmas shopping?”

           “Yes, Sherlock, people do buy gifts for people for Christmas.”

           “Oh. Dull.”

           “I know,” you chuckle. “But there’s a lot going on at the moment.”

           “We’ll solve the case,” he assures you. “If I just knew where Gidon was…”

           “Yeah, I know, me too,” you agree, hearing his underlying sentiment. “But we don’t know where he is. Unless Mycroft does.”

           “Mycroft would say something.”

           “He didn’t before.”

           Sherlock gives you a look, but he knows you’re right.

           “I can still ask him,” you wonder aloud, turning your head to look at Sherlock. “You won’t hate me if I have tea with him again, will you?”

           “I’ll come with you,” Sherlock replies, as simple as that. “I’m sure my brother would love to hear from me as well.”

           You don’t like the idea, because you know how the two of them are, but you can’t argue with Sherlock right now about it. You don’t think you’ll be able to argue about it at all. He seems pretty firm on his decision.

~~~

You and Sherlock said goodnight not long after that, with you retiring to your flat to lay in your own bed.

           The only gripe you have about living in 221C is the fact that it is essentially the basement, meaning, it is always, without a doubt, freezing.

           Most nights you ignore it, or have a fire in the fireplace to at least help you get to sleep, but tonight the fire doesn’t want to light, and you’re becoming increasingly frustrated as the seconds tick on.

           “This is ridiculous,” you mutter to yourself, wrapping your blanket around your shoulders.

           Quietly, you creep up the stairs, honestly expecting Sherlock to be sitting in his chair, which would’ve been fine. You just want to sit by the fire. But Sherlock isn’t there, and the fire has gone down enough that there isn’t any real sense in trying to warm up by it.

           Without really knowing where your feet are taking you, you move toward Sherlock’s room.

           Surprisingly, you find him in his bed, underneath the covers. You don’t give your mind any time to talk you out of it before you’re crawling into the bed next to him,

           “What are you doing?”

           “Oh, shut up and move over. I’m cold.”

           Sherlock moves over, lifting the blankets for you to slide underneath. “Why aren’t you by the fire?”

           “The fire’s gone out,” you deadpan, curling into a ball next to him. “And you’re warmer anyway.”

           He hums, chuckling, that deep rumble in his chest, making your cheeks burn and your brain thank goodness that it is dark.

           “You’re shivering.”

           “Wonderful deduction, Sherlock Holmes.”

           “Are you alright?”

           “I’d be better if you’d shut up so I can sleep.”

           He laughs again, rolling onto his back. He wraps his arm around your waist, causing you to squeak as he slides you closer to him. Your head somehow ends up on his chest, his arm around your shoulders, keeping you right up against him.

           Slowly, you stop shivering, and the last thing you remember is Sherlock pressing a kiss to your forehead.

[sampevans]

Double Blue

INVOLVED: Ava M. Evans and Samuel Evans TIME FRAME: Monday, April 13th, 2020 LOCATION: Seattle Grace Hospital; Seattle, Washington SUMMARY: Ava and Samuel find out the gender of the two latest Evans kids and the test results.

Ava sat on the examination table with a hum, looking over at her husband with a soft expression. She hadn’t mentioned it, but she had been sick to her stomach with nerves and worry about what these test results might be from her amino. Plus, all of the drama with Siena had her blood pressure high as hell. Sighing softly, she reached her hand out towards her husband. 

 Samuel looked at his wife as she sat there on the table and he held her hand as she reached out for him. He let his thumb rub over her knuckles gently and he smiled “it’ll be fine” he told her knowingly. 

 Looking at her husband, Ava sighed once more, and she nodded at him before she placed her other hand over her small bump. Not only were they getting the results of the amino today, but she was also officially sixteen weeks, so it was time for another examination. “It’ll be fine,” she repeated him as she rubbed her growing belly. 

 Dr. Rand knocked on the door lightly before she poked her head into the room, gazing at the couple with a soft smile. “Hello,” she said to them both as she moved into the room closing the door behind her. She grabbed the chair and wheeled it over, sitting down in front of Ava and Samuel with the clipboard in her hand.

 Samuel nodded his head at the woman’s words, hopefully she believed that fully. When their doctor surfaced, he smiled “hi” he said easily to her as she continued to stroke her hand gently. 

 Ava looked up slowly as Dr. Rand moved into the room and she smiled softly at her colleague and friend. “Hi,” she said quietly, squeezing Samuel’s hand as the woman sat down. “Just give it to us straight,” she said softly, nibbling on her lip.

 Dr. Rand gazed at the couple, biting back a chuckle at Ava’s eagerness and nerves. “Okay, so,” she looked down at the clipboard in her hand, reading over the chart and the results. “As you know the amniocentesis tests for chromosomal abnormalities, neural tube defects, and genetic disorders such as down syndrome, trisomy 21, cystic fibrosis, and spina bifida…” she said, looking between the two of them. “We tested for all that I just mentioned and many more and Ava I am happy to inform you that both of your babies came back negative for everything. We could zero signs of any chromosomal abnormalities, defects, or genetic disorders.” She shifted in her seat some leaning in a bit. “You didn’t have any major cramps or leakage of fluids so as you know, the test did not affect you or your babies negatively,” she said with a hum. 

 Samuel looked at his wife and then their doctor as she began to explain everything that they needed to know and the result involving it. She had explained to them both that both of their children had tested negative for everything there was, and possible. She went on to explain further that the fact that she had, had no complications due to the testing that everything was to be A-okay. Samuel released a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and he nodded his head. “Good,” he said nodding his head, perfect, everything would be fine in those regards at least. 

 Ava listened to Dorothy closely, nodding her head as she let out a deep sigh of relief, squeezing her husband's hand a little more now, this time out of happiness. She lifted his hand to her mouth, kissing it gently before she asked Dorothy. “And my blood pressure is okay and everything?” she asked, knowing it had to be through the roof with all the stress.

 “Well…” Dr. Rand began looking at Ava. “It’s a bit high but I do believe that’s due to stress and less of what you’re putting into your body, so you need to relax,” she said. “I’m not sure what is going on in your lives,” she said softly, “but Ava it is very important that you take it easy. Yes, these results came back great but you’re still at risk to experience various complications and stress is one of the worst factors in bringing things on,” she said to them, looking between the two. 

 Samuel looked to his wife and jerked her hand a bit playfully, he was supposed to be kissing her hand not the other way around. He hid the smile he had on his face with his fist, their kids were fine and that was a true blessing within itself. However, when the woman continued her speech explaining her thoughts on the matter of his wife’s health and how what she was going in her personal could affect their kids he looked at her. He had told her not to worry and here she was worrying. It was the prime reason for wanting to watch this boy go down, he hadn’t just ruined their daughter he was ruining other things around them as well. And Samuel couldn’t have that. 

 Ava let out a soft hum at Dorothy’s words and she looked over at her husband. However, as Dorothy began speaking about other issues and stress, she sighed. “I know…” she said quietly. “I have been trying not to stress, I really have,” she said, “there has just been a lot going on,” she breathed out sadly, looking at her husband. “I promise, I am trying not to stress,” she said to both her husband and doctor. 

 “I understand Ava,” Dr. Rand said gently. “You just need to be mindful,” she told her. “Now if you’re ready, we can also begin your examination,” she said as she sat her chart aside. 

 Samuel continued to look at Ava as she spoke, and he pulled his eyes away from her as the doctor in the room spoke up again. He nodded his head slowly before he looked to his wife at the woman’s question. “Yes” he breathed gently. 

 Shifting on the examination table a bit, Ava nodded slowly before she released her husband's hand and moved to lay back. She rolled her shirt up, tucking it under her breasts and she unbuttoned her jeans, shifting them down her hips slightly, giving Dorothy all the room that she would need. Out of habit, she placed her hands over her stomach, holding her small pouch that was growing with their babies.

 Dr. Rand nodded and got up, moving to wash her hands in the sink. She shook them dry a bit before she grabbed a napkin, drying them fully. Tossing the napkin in the trash, she turned to Ava and smiled softly. “Hands,” she said as she walked over, gently shooing Ava’s hands away to replace them with her own. Lightly she pressed and felt around Ava’s stomach with a small nod to herself. “Before even pulling over the ultrasound machine, I can tell you, that your babies are growing nicely,” she said, her hands still moving over Ava’s stomach and sides. “You’re starting to show a bit which is right on schedule for multiples,” she said with a hum before she turned from Ava, grabbing the machine and wheeling it over. 

 Samuel watched as his wife dropped his hand and moved to rest back against the table. He sat back in the chair and ran his hand down his jeans as he watched and listened to the woman. He looked at her stomach, haven’t notice much of anything himself but apparently his wife was showing now. 

 Ava giggled softly moving her hands out of the way for Dr. Rand. “Sorry it’s a habit,” she said easily as she moved her hands to her sides to allow Dorothy to feel and touch over her stomach. “Yeah…” Ava said softly. “I noticed it poking out around maybe week 14,” she said honestly. “Just a bit,” she said, measuring with her fingers. “Jeans are starting to fit just a bit tighter,” she said softly, watching as her friend moved to grab the machine. She looked at her husband and connected, “and you just love to touch it,” she said smiling reaching for his hand once more. 

 Samuel looked at his wife and their doctor, he licked his lips slowly as he listened to his wife explain that she in fact was starting to fill out in her jeans. At her comment he nodded slowly at her, so unaware that he was in fact gripping on anything more than her stomach. His wife was a fuller figured woman, she had rolls and a tummy a pudge never dawned on him. “Would you look at that…” he breathed quietly. 

 Dr. Rand smirked softly as she turned the machine on and got it set up to use on Ava, chuckling softly at Samuel’s words. She knew it was still a bit too soon for Samuel to probably really notice any major changes in Ava’s body. “Wouldn’t you,” she smiled as she seethed the transducer with a protective latex. She grabbed the gel and placed a bit on Ava’s stomach before she pressed the transducer against her. She moved it around slowly, before she found the two children. Looking to the screen, she said, “there we are.” 

 Ava looked at her husband and she chuckled softly. She squeezed his hand gently before she looked at Dorothy and she smirked. She looked at her stomach as she held the transducer there before her eyes moved to the screen to view their children. “Oh,” she said softly, tears coming to her eyes.

 Samuel looked to their doctor tucking his lips in before he looked at his wife with a smile. He kissed her knuckles gently before he looked at the screen seeing their two babies on it. He still got butterflies and heart flutters every time he saw them on a screen. 

 Looking at the screen, Dr. Rand moved the transducer around a bit as she took in the side of the babies, the amniotic fluid levels, and much more before she finally said, “and the heart beats,” as she turned the volume up, focusing in on baby A first before she moved over to baby B. Looking at Ava and Samuel she asked, “and Ava you’re sixteen weeks, so would you like to know the gender?” she asked. She already knew, she had seen it on the report from the amino, but she enjoyed waiting until this part to mention it. 

 Ava smiled as her husband kissed her knuckles. “I still can’t believe it,” she chuckled lightly before she looked at Dorothy at her question and she nodded, “yes, we would like to know”. From just looking at the screen, she could see that they were having at least one boy, but the other baby wasn’t turned properly to tell. 

 Samuel smirked at her; he felt the same even though he didn’t say it back in response. “I know” he added however after a moment, at the woman’s question his heart began to race. “Yeah” he said along with his wife “what do we have cooking?” he chuckled. God please let there be at least one boy in there, please. He wanted another son so bad he could almost taste it, he needed one of the babies to at least be a boy. 

 Dr. Rand smiled at the couple as they said they would like to know and she looked at Ava knowingly, she knew the woman could tell by looking at the screen, but baby A was turned away from the monitor, hiding itself. “Well, baby B is a boy,” she told them confidently, “but your baby A is hiding,” she said with a smirk. “Lucky for you, the amniocentesis also breaks down the genders since that is indeed chromosomal,” she smiled. “So, I can confidently tell you that you’re having two boys,” she finally said. 

 Samuel heard the boy and everything else went blank in his mind and eyes for a moment before the woman explained that it was in fact two boys. What? How did he manage? Had the lord heard his prayers? Sweet Jesus. He had an even number now. He had 3 girls and 3 boys.  “What?” he finally blurted out “are you sure?” he stammered. “Like really sure?” he asked the woman as he got up. “Two boys?” he said, raising up to fingers. “Two boys” he said with wide eyes as he looked at his wife. “Two boys? Oh my God” he said with a bright smile. “Yes” he exclaimed, “thank God,” he emphasized. 

 Ava looked at her husband as Dr. Rand revealed that they were having two boys. She watched as he erupted with excitement and she squeezed his hand. This was the most excited she had ever seen him. “Are you happy?” she asked him playfully with a wide grin.

 Dr. Rand chuckled softly as Samuel began to babble with excitement and she took that time to snap pictures of the babies as well as finish up the examination. She cleaned off Mercedes stomach pulled the latex cover off the transducer, tossing both the napkin and the latex in the trash as she wheeled the machine back into the corner. 

 “Oh course!” Samuel said looking at the woman with large eyes “do you know how much I talked about a son after Luca?” he asked her in the moment. “And I now I get two for the price of one,” he said excitedly, a chuckle leaving him. “Happy doesn’t cut it,” he said with a bright grin. “I can’t believe it” he said “aren’t you happy and excited?” he asked her. 

 Ava smiled at him, giggling a bit at his words. “Oh, I remember,” she said softly, “but we also thought we were done,” she mused with a chuckle. As he mentioned getting two sons for the price of one, she snorted; she still had to push out two babies, so she didn’t know about all of that. “I’m happy,” Ava told him with a bright grin. “I am happy and I’m happy that you’re happy,” she smirked, gripping his hand tightly. “I love you baby,” she said gently tugging him down to kiss him. “You finally got your wish,” she smirked. 

 Dr. Rand tried not to listen now as she cleaned up the room a bit, washing her hands once more before she quietly said to the couple, “I’ll be right back,” honestly not even sure if they were aware she was still in the room as she slipped out. 

 Samuel nodded his head at her as she spoke, she was happy which was good. “I love you too” he said to her as she pecked her lips gently. “I did” he smiled resting his forehead against hers before he pecked her lips again. He leaned up and gave her a more serious look now “you promised you wouldn’t stress, so you can’t” he told her sternly. “Forget all of that stuff, it isn’t important right now, they are,” he said. 

 Ava smiled against her husband's lips and she nodded slightly. As he pulled away, looking at her seriously Ava sighed placing her hand over her little bump. “I have been trying not to but it’s hard,” she admitted, “there is just so much happening all at once,” she said. “I will make more of a conscious effort though,” she told him truthfully. 

 “Not make an effort, do Ava,” Samuel said to her, there was nothing but authority placed in his voice when he spoke. “She doesn’t want us to do it, so we won’t” he lied to his wife. “You have to clear your mind of it all. Try yoga or meditation or whatever you have to do” he said “but she better not give us a report like that again” he said to her. 

 Ava gazed at Samuel at his words and she bit her lip hard as she nodded slightly. She took what he had to say to heart, and she sighed out, “I will relax,” she told him quietly, squeezing his hand gently. “I want our babies to be healthy and okay too,” whispered.

 “Good” Samuel said to her easily as she said that she would stress less and forget about the case as a whole. “Thank you” he added “I appreciate it” he said kissing her lips. 

 Ava smiled, kissing Samuel’s lips once more. “And… Blue… I won’t stress about Blue…” she said as she thought about it.

 Dr. Rand knocked on the door twice before she slowly opened it and placed the file on the counter. “Here you are,” she said as she did. “Uh, I have your images inside along with a summary of today’s visit,” she smiled, “I’ll see you in a few weeks,” she said. 

 Samuel nodded his head before thinking about it and said, “what about Blue?” confused. As the woman returned Samuel looked at her having forgotten about her and he nodded before he said “thanks” to her kindly, grabbing the items and handing them to his wife. 

 Ava looked over at the door as Dorothy popped in and out and she nodded at the woman, saying “thank you” as well before the woman disappeared once more. She took the folder from her husband and said, “oh…” she forgot she hadn’t told him what she had found out. While doing laundry a few weeks ago she had overheard Blue on the phone with Ariel talking about how she was taking a year off and staying home to help out around the house, which she truly thought was admirable of Blue but she never said anything because she wasn’t supposed to know. “Well… apparently Blue has decided to take a year off after she graduated to help out around the house… so she doesn’t plan to head off to college immediately,” she informed her husband.

 At his wife’s words Samuel decided to take a deep breath and he said “okay” instead of saying what he really thought or felt in the moment. Blue would not ruin this happy day for him. 

 Sitting up on the examination table finally, Ava adjusted her clothing, fixing herself up as she watched her husband inhale and exhale. “We’ll talk about it later,” she said knowingly as she finished fixing her clothes and she placed her hand on his chest, rubbing him there gently, her acrylics scratching him soothingly. 

 Samuel looked at Ava and nodded his head “yeah Blue isn’t ruining my happy day” he tossed out as he moved to walk away from her. The man opened the door with a headshake. It was just one more added thing to wrap his brain around. He was tired. 

 Ava slid from the table easily, resting down on her feet and she nodded at her husband as she gathered her purse and followed him out the door. “Two boys,” she repeated to take his mind off of Blue. 

Samuel nodded his head “two boys” he repeated happily with a smile back on his face as they exited.

[popcultureoverdosed]

Youthful Dystopia of Narutaru

Narutaru was beneficial enough to have been made in an era where deconstruction series was gaining traction. If it were to made now, it'd probably be labeled as edgy without any mention of the actual quality of the story. Notably, the genre being deconstructing is the Mon( Digimon, pokemon, etc) genre. Unlike magical girl and mecha shows of today, Mon anime are still generally fluffy and childish so a darker take on the genre was definitely in order.

To give a little backdrop on the creator Mohiro Kitoh, he's pretty much a nihilist that rivals gen urubuchi in cruelty. His other works include a giant robot that steals the life force of children to destroy the multiverse and a psychic teen whom mass murders anyone who drives irresponsibly. He's that type of guy.

The main appeal of the story comes from the interactions between the children and their shadow dragons, rather than actual plot progression. Shadow dragons are mysterious creatures who bond to the characters with a psychic link, sharing their pain and inner thoughts. The names of the shadow dragons are often reflective of their user's psychology. For example, Norio's dragon is Vagina dentata representing his feminine appearance and inability to become intimate with the man he loves.

Our first real look into the world of Narutaru comes in the form of Tomonori Komori. The first few chapters spend time lolly gaging and establishing a vaguely foreboding mood, but, Komori establishes how this world operates. He a textbook level sociopath. A charming young boy who is revered by those in his neighborhood. All that charm is simply a facade he puts on to hide his true sinister views. He wants a Darwinistic world where all of the educated and well to do members of society are killed off, leaving the world in a survival of the fittest state. " Those who are weak and can't fend for themselves deserve to die," he says despite having a sick mother to take care of. He's ironically killed off by hoshimaru, one of the weaker dragons.

Komori is far from the only disturbed child in the series. The children have few qualms with murder and treat it casually. What sets this mon series from those of the same genre is that it treats its children character like actual humans. They aren't saints who only use their abilities for good. They're selfish and use these dragons to suit their own needs. It seems that being psychologically damaged is a requirement for having a dragon. Even upbeat Shiina has her hang-ups about her identity. This theory of trauma giving birth to shadow dragons is more or less confirmed with Hiroko.

She's a shy girl who's constant physical and emotional abuse from her bullies and parents allow her to awaken Oni. Her parents are representative of a common problem in Asian society. They only value their daughter for her academic status and chide her for being anything less than perfect. Her bullies torment her for being too smart and standing out during class. Both parties have opposite reasons for hating Hiroko, but, they both wish to strip away her individuality and turn her into a submissive slave of society. Awakening her shadow dragon allows Hiroko to finally get revenge on her tormentors, even if it means becoming a serial killer in the process.

The manga is definitely a character-driven tale that dwells deep into the psyche of highly disturbed children. You have Akira who has depression and suicidal tendencies, Aki Honda who raped a girl with a test tube and the girl in question who snaps and goes in a killing spree. You could say that all of this bleakness is a bit too much but honestly, it felt refreshing. Mon series are generally really cheesy with bland one-note characters and a story that only exists to sell merchandise. Narutaru breaks the mold and presents characters who are multi-faceted and lifelike. Contrary to popular belief, children aren't always innocent and they can be just as cruel as adults.

One major gripe I have with the manga is the art. Mohiro sure can write but his art isn't winning any awards, that's for sure. Character designs are bland and minimalist. I admit the military paraphernalia is drawn in extensive detail and the dragons have cool designs but that's about it. Other manga artists can do sketchy manga art perfectly but Mohiro isn't one of them.

I also wasn't too particularly fond of the second half of the manga. It drops elements of deconstruction and character drama to replace it with military affairs. I understand the writer is a military nut but having chapters littered with walls of text of JSDF members reacting to the shadow dragon was just so tedious. It would've been better if the plot focused solely on the children and how their actions affect their environment. The second half of the manga lost what made Narutaru so special. It started as a character study of how immature kids react to newfound power only for the story to get Monopolized by adults. some characters like Mamiko Kuri, Norio Koga, and sudo desperately needed more screentime and character development. Mamiko is the worst offender as she only exists to be overtly cryptic until the final volumes.

I highly recommend anyone curious to please read the manga. It's ultimately a story of children thrown into an adult world of violence with little room to grow up. It's a thought-provoking social commentary on the nature of humans and how far their cruelty can go. There's an anime adaptation that isn't as good but is still a fun watch. Even if it's unlikely I'd to see the anime get a remake with a bigger budget and completely adapt the manga. If it did get a remake, here's whom I'd want to work on it:

Studio Mappa/ Geno studio- They seem more willing than other studios to work on nontraditional anime. They also tend to have high production values, something the Narutaru anime desperately needed. Producer twin engine would probably need to be involved

Sadyuki Murai(scriptwriter)- His work on boogiepop Phantom and Juuni Taisen has shown he excels at character drama and psychological thrillers. His style would work perfectly with the narrative and maybe even give the side characters some much-needed development. Taku Kishimoto would be my second choice

Takahiro Kishida( Character designer)- He has a sketchy and rough art style that can perfectly encapsulate the feel of the manga. I'm sure he'd improve on the demure character designs and make them more dynamite.

Takahiro Omari( Director)- He directed Durarara and Baccano which tells me he knows how to work with an ensemble cast. He also directed Hell girl, which had heavy social commentary poised at Japanese society, something Kitoh would love.

Yugo Kanno(Composer)- This guy knows how to how to Composer dark and suspenseful tracks that can amplify the intensity of the manga.

Be sure to check out these two other blogs that went far more in-depth than I ever could.

https://hanagasaitayo.wordpress.com/2019/08/05/analysis-narutaru-mukuro-naru-hoshi-tama-taru-ko/

https://manymanytoes.wordpress.com/2018/10/17/narutaru-shadow-star/

[kk095]

Workload

I felt creative in the past day or two and came up with this. It may need some additional tweaking, but I hope everyone likes the story! Also, I received a lot of positive feedback on my last story. I greatly appreciate that! 🙂

****

There's a common saying that goes “if you find a career you really like, you'll never have to work a day in your life.” For most people, the idea of this sounds fictitious, but it was a reality for Stephanie. Stephanie Crawford was a graduate of the prestigious Brown university, and went on to become a successful lawyer, specializing in corporate law and civil litigation. Being a lawyer was Stephanie's passion, willfully devoting large sums of time to her career, foregoing the opportunity to experience other life milestones such as marriage and children; Stephanie is someone that could be labeled a “workaholic.”

Even though Stephanie worked around the clock, her looks never suffered as a result of her high stress, high pressure job. Stephanie was a 37 year old white woman with brown hair that was slightly past her shoulders with angled bangs. She had blue eyes, a semi tan complexion, was 5'4, and had a slim build. Stephanie had a very classy, sophisticated appearance and had a refined demeanor.

This particular case started long before Stephanie was brought to our emergency department. Stephanie was at the office after normal business hours working on her latest case. The case involved something known as “frustration of purpose”, a scenario where contractual obligations become impossible for both parties to satisfy because of unforeseen circumstances. These scenarios can be quite messy and complicated, but Stephanie was always up for the task.

Stephanie was sorting through paperwork, working on her computer, eating take out dinner, and was the only person at the office. Stephanie was at work for almost 12 hours at that point, and she barely slept the night before. The 37 year old decided to call it a night and head home. Little did she know, the drive home would be anything but routine.

The roads were relatively empty at that time in the evening. It had rained earlier in the day, so the roads were still a bit wet. On the way home, Stephanie was focusing on everything except driving. She took a turn a little too fast and slipped on a wet spot, losing control of her car and crashing it into a utility pole on the side of the road, wrecking her brand new BMW.

Everything happened so fast. Her chest hit the steering wheel milliseconds before the airbag deployed, with the airbag smacking her in the face, sending her back quickly. The lap portion of her seatbelt tightened up, pressing exceptionally hard on her abdomen. The windshield cracked, sending a handful of small glass shards flying towards Stephanie, causing lacerations to her face and neck.

Stephanie wasn't in any pain immediately, but had some minor breathing difficulties. She was in a frenzied state due to a sudden rush of adrenaline and endorphins. Believe it or not, she reached for her cell phone and called 911 for herself.

EMS responded to the scene of the accident within a few minutes of her 911 call. The driver's side door had to be cut off by the fire department since it wouldn't open and Stephanie was in a confined space, unable to move.

The extraction took somewhat long. The fire department had to set up several types of mechanical equipment so they were able to remove the door from the mangled, black BMW. A feeling of nervousness consumed Stephanie while the mechanical device started crunching and pulling at her car door. The scene became very loud as a result, causing sensory overload to a minor degree. Stephanie was holding back tears, but kept her composure. “I'm ok. Everything's going to be just fine” Stephanie kept thinking to herself, unaware that she would be in the hospital morgue in just a little while.

Once the door was removed, paramedics placed a c-collar on her. Stephanie's seatbelt was cut, and she was carefully wiggled out of the confined space she was trapped in, and placed onto a backboard. Paramedics carried the backboard over to a stretcher, where they placed Stephanie. She was wheeled into the ambulance, and rushed to the nearest hospital.

During the ambulance ride, paramedics set up 2 large bore IVs and hung normal saline. Stephanie's top was cut off by the medics, exposing her toned body and black bra. She was set up on a heart monitor; her vitals were: BP 92/68, heart rate 124bpm with a thready pulse, and her oxygen saturation was at 95%. Stephanie complained of shortness of breath, so the paramedics placed a nasal cannula to help with breathing difficulties. Further along into transport, she began to complain of soreness in her chest, and she started to feel some stinging from lacerations on her face and neck. Stephanie was given a dose of lidocaine to take the edge off of the pain she was experiencing.

Approximately 7 minutes later, Stephanie arrived at the hospital. She was experiencing increased pain levels upon arrival at the emergency department, wincing and groaning, trying her very best to fight through the intensifying pain.

Stephanie was now in the trauma bay. She laid on the table, staring up at the blinding overhead light. She felt a nurse at the other end of the bed removing her shoes and the rest of her clothes while more people entered the room. Stephanie became more apprehensive, wondering what was coming next. She started feeling vulnerable for the first time in awhile due to her lack of control over her current situation; all she could do was wait.

The trauma team was finally fully assembled and began ordering tests and beginning their initial examination of the injured lawyer. The attending physician ordered trauma labs, a chest x ray, an echocardiogram, an abdominal ultrasound, and made sure that blood products were on standby.

The chest x ray showed a moderate pneumothorax on the right side with left sided tracheal deviation. There was some bruising and redness on the middle of her chest from the steering wheel injury. A nurse snipped off Stephanie's black bra, putting her b cup breasts on display. The echocardiogram revealed a myocardial contusion with fluid in the pericardium. The abdominal ultrasound showed minor, non specific bleeding that was likely to heal on its own, but worthy of monitoring. The main concerns were the collapsed lung and activity within the pericardium.

Stephanie's symptoms continued getting worse. She began complaining of heart palpitations and feeling cold in the seconds following the tests. Her blood pressure was still low, her heart rate was up in the 130s, and her o2 levels were dropping. Stephanie was visibly uncomfortable, writhing in pain. A nurse told the attractive lawyer to stay still and remain calm.

The trauma team was greatly concerned over Stephanie's deterioration. They had to urgently place a chest tube, and didn't have time to sedate their patient. A round of pain medications were pushed intravenously, and the procedure commenced. A 1inch incision was made in between her ribs on the right side. Stephanie moaned, feeling the scalpel's every move. Stephanie shouted and cried out in pain while the chest tube was being shoved into the small incision site.

All of the air that was trapped inside of Stephanie's chest cavity was blasted through the tube, and out of her body. Although her breathing improved a bit, Stephanie was still in pain and her vital signs weren't improving. Stephanie was breathing rapidly and appeared distressed. The attending physician was concerned about her worsening condition and wanted to make sure her airway wasn't lost, so it was decided that Stephanie would be intubated. Rapid sequence orotracheal intubation was performed. Stephanie was now unconscious from the intubation sedatives, with the metal blade of the laryngoscope leaning on the roof of her mouth, while a 7.0 ET tube was being navigated into her airway. Once the breathing tube was in place, a blue tube holder was connected to secure the tube.

Following the intubation, the trauma team decided to perform a pericardiocentesis to remove some of the excess fluid in their patient's pericardium. A fine needle was placed through the skin at the infrasternal angle in a subxiphoid approach, meaning the needle was navigated under the sternum and left ribcage, into the lining of the heart. After an echocardiogram confirmed correct placement, a small catheter was attached to the needle, which was connected to a collection bag. At first, a small amount of blood and pericardial fluid was aspirated. Seemingly out of nowhere, a large amount of bright red, arterial blood rushed into the catheter's collection bag. “what the hell?” thought the attending physician. “page cardio. She didn't cut the aorta because she would've died already, but whatever's going on in there is pretty serious.” Ordered the attending physician with a sense of urgency.

Stephanie's condition was much worse by the time the cardiothoracic surgeon arrived. Her blood pressure was dangerously low, and distant heart sounds were heard through the stethoscope. The cardiothoracic surgeon ordered a repeat echo and hung 2 units of blood products from the rapid infuser.

Before the repeat echocardiogram could be performed, Stephanie became pulseless. The pericardiocentesis catheter was carefully removed, with chest compressions commencing immediately afterwards. The lawyer's chest was pumped robustly while the defibrillator paddles were being gelled and charged. The paddles were charged to 250j and pressed up against Stephanie's bare chest. Once everyone backed away, shock #1 was delivered. Stephanie's torso rose upwards, arching her back for a brief moment before returning to her previous position. The heart monitors showed V-Fib, so a round of drugs and cycle of compressions were performed during the handful of seconds it took for the defibrillator to recharge.

The paddles were charged to 300j and placed back onto Stephanie's chest, releasing a stronger current of electricity. Stephanie's body jolted violently on the table. Her arms tensed up and her head lolled to the side, with the monitors still chirping in the background.

Shock #2 did nothing to better the situation, so a 3rd shock at 360j was delivered moments later. The 37 year old's body flopped on the table. Her feet jumped into the air an inch or so above the table and crashed back down, showing off the prominent wrinkles in her soft soles.

Defibrillator shock #3 also didn't improve the situation. The next round of intravenous drugs were pushed and CPR was resumed while the trauma team thought about their next move. One of the nurses delivered strong, rapid compressions onto the attorney's chest. Her belly bounced outward and her breasts shook from the vibrations created from the compressions.

Another 2 and a half minutes of chest compressions and another defibrillator shock weren't enough to bring back Stephanie. The situation was growing more and more desperate by the second, and the trauma team needed to make a move. Stephanie had an injury inside her chest cavity, and likely to her heart, so the trauma team elected to access her chest cavity by performing a clamshell thoracotomy. Betadine was quickly splashed all over Stephanie's chest with harsh chest compressions still ongoing. A large incision was made extending across the entire 5th intercostal space, underneath both breasts, and through the sternum. CPR continued while the underlying tissue in Stephanie's chest was incised further. The next step was to separate the sternum to make room for the rib spreaders. A Gigli saw was used to divide the sternum horizontally. The manual wire saw was placed around each side of her sternum, and the cutting began. The saw worked its way through the sternum, with the cardiothoracic surgeon pushing with all their strength. The saw made short work of the solid bone in the sternum. The rib spreaders were placed on each side of her chest, and her chest was cracked open shortly after.

Stephanie's frantically twitching heart was revealed upon opening of the chest. A vascular clamp was placed on the aorta near her diaphragm and internal massage began. A 2nd round of drugs were pushed while the cardiothoracic surgeon made an incision into the pericardium. Blood squirted out of the incision area, with copious amounts of blood following. The surgeon couldn't locate the source of the bleeding. The surgeon wanted to perform a pericardial window right there in the ER due to the dire circumstances. With the monitors showing V-Fib, it was decided that an internal shock should be delivered beforehand.

The Zoll 8011 internal paddles were charged to 20j and placed around each side of the fluttering organ. A jolt of electricity was released directly into Stephanie's heart, causing her torso to flop on the table. The internal shock regained a faint heartbeat.

The cardiothoracic surgeon began performing a pericardial window. This is a procedure where a section of the pericardium is removed to allow excess blood and fluid to be drained, giving the heart an adequate amount of space to pump effectively.

The pericardial window was met with blood squirting out of the pericardium. Stephanie's pulse was lost again as more and more blood seeped out of the opening. More blood products were hung and direct cardiac massage was restarted. The cardiothoracic surgeon extended their incision in the pericardium in an attempt to locate the source of hemorrhaging.

Hemopericardium was discovered by the surgeon's continued efforts, but that still didn't explain where the bleeding originated. V-Fib appeared on the monitor again, so the surgeon's investigation was paused so an internal shock could be delivered. The internal paddles were placed back around her twitching heart, and a 30j shock was delivered once everyone backed away. A dull, wet thunk was heard, accompanied by her torso jolting quickly and sharply. This shock couldn't convert the beautiful patient out of V-Fib, so another shock was delivered immediately afterwards. Stephanie converted to PEA after this shock, so internal compressions were resumed while the next round of IV drugs were given.

Stephanie's heart was being squeezed by the attending ER physician, trying to force it back to life. The surgeon continued probing around inside Stephanie's chest cavity. The ventricles and atria were intact, the SVC and aorta were also intact. That only meant 1 thing: a coronary artery laceration. Coronary artery lacerations are exceedingly rare, but that doesn't mean they don't happen.

The cardiothoracic surgeon located the left coronary artery. Surprisingly, it was still intact. Stephanie was back in V-Fib so another unsuccessful internal shock was delivered. After the shock, the surgeon continued looking around. Finally, the surgeon located the bleeder. The right coronary artery was severed completely in half and ripped off of the myocardium. The heart muscle in that section of the myocardium was already dead upon discovery. Due to the catastrophic nature of this injury, the trauma team abruptly ceased resuscitation efforts, calling time of death at 11:04pm while Stephanie was still in V-Fib.

The monitors were shut off and the ambu bag was detached from the ET tube. The room was eerily silent as some people were exiting the room, while others were beginning postmortem care. Stephanie's heart fired off its last few dysfunctional, erratic bits of electrical activity while the nurses worked. Finally, a cover was placed over Stephanie's lifeless body, leaving her feet exposed. A nurse filled out a toe tag that read:

Name: Crawford, Stephanie

Date of birth: 1/12/1982

Date of death: 4/27/2019

TOD: 23:04

COD: Blunt coronary artery rupture

The toe tag was placed on the big toe of Stephanie's left foot after it was filled out. The tag dangled in front of the silky wrinkles of her soles while she was wheeled off to the hospital morgue, only an hour after her accident.