#im just lamenting bad habits i need to break

[emeraldelysium]

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[journey-to-the-attic]

Sup! It's 10:13 am here, and I'm back with my Naruto Ninja AU! Lez go-

So, going back to Byakugan part of my ramble, I'd imagine that the demons don't really know about dojutsus/ninjutsus, so seeing IK's byakugan is really interesting and fascinating to them, mostly Satan.

Levi would be super hyped to see IK in ninja mode, seeing her walk on walls and toss kunai with perfect accuracy. Definitely asks her to act out a few scenes from his favorite animes and asks her if these are possible to attempt. The scenes like the catacombs (?) and the basement scene with lucifer would go very differently, like almost all au's. Also Belphie gets absolutely stomped on.

Now that I've had time to think about the effects of chakra on demons, it could be actually very bad for them. All though the byakugan aims to stop chakra points and stop the opponent from using jutsus and stuff, you can put up a defense with your chakra if you want. But the demons have now way to stop the chakra entering their systems. AND OH BOY WILL IT HURT. And they don't know how to detect it as well so they can't really do any prep beforehand. Or something else. idk im not good with these things.

And Big Sis Ik with Lil bro Neji! I won't go into detail since you need to watch the anime to understand, but the two have a lot of trauma. AND I MEAN A LOT. Ik would be around 10? when the traumatic incident happens, so she has to take care of Neji and take care of all the responsibilities as the head of the branch clan. In the anime both of their parents are dead, so it just makes it worse. Man, imagine the heart break Neji feels when his sister is reported missing. Even worse, she goes missing on a mission out of the village, she would probably be reported dead due to her status as a ninja.

Man the economy of ninja villages is just f*cked up. That's all for my ramble! Hope you get a few ideas from the au!

reading through the byakugan page on the narutopedia - would it let ik see through the walls of the house of lamentation?? because then wouldn’t it be funny if she walks through the front door, does a sorta perimeter check, and immediately sees belphie up in the attic. she thinks he’s just hanging out there and doesn’t bring it up until a few days later at breakfast, and asks nonchalantly, “does the man in the attic ever come out?” and lucifer’s just like “shit”

based on the stuff about neji it does seem like this ik would be suffering from eldest daughter syndrome, with the whole having to grow up too early thing, so her refusal to rely on other people would be the heaviest of any au here... old habits die hard, so even once the found family’s established it probably takes a while for the others to get through to her - but hey, that’s what friends are for!

[exofilialovercat]

Azrael (Draconian boy) x Gabriela (human girl)

Welcome to my first monster love writing! It has been long since did this one, and I wanted to share this old thing than i wrote whit and online friend! 

Gabriela knew things were not good between them. But she didn't wanted to believe he will choose today to break up with her. 

He said the typical "I need space, I'm confused... we almost do not have time for us" .  She knew it was bulshit, she knew he would probably run in the arms of a girl a lot prettier than her and probably a lot more empty brained. He avoided her like the plague in the last months and he looked every day better (More gym, more expensive clothes, you name it). Gaby ended alone in the park, with her heart broken,  trying to calm her anger . I guess at least i can go for a drink  . She walked into a bar and sat, decided to buy the biggest sugar coated smoothie they had.... and put some vodka on it maybe.

Azrael's head was spinning. He thought a job working as a bartender would be more glamorous than it had turned out to be in his first week. Instead of learning to elegantly craft fancy cocktails he had been forced to haul heavy kegs of beer from the cellar and to dodge crowds of rowdy drunks as best he could while running trays of food and drink to tables the senior barkeeps did not want to bother with. Today he even was sent to break up a fight that was starting up between two belligerent customers arguing over a game of darts. Thankfully Ozzie's unique appearance usually helped with things like this. Throwing himself between the two patrons, the draconian flared his wings out so they could not get to each other and roared for them to behave themselves.... Unfortunately his wings knocked into a nearby table, accidentally sending a brightly-colored frozen drink flying into the lovely young lady who had ordered it some minutes ago and spilling it all over her top.

"Oh God! I'm so sorry miss!" He stammered, swearing that the pale blue scales on his face were blushing red as he offered her a towel and prayed that it would not leave a stain.

Gaby froze when she felt the thing in almost slow motion staining all her top shirt. Oh great... can something else go bad today?... Please Gaby don't be the shitty customer that yells at the waiter... dont... . Gaby felt the hot tears filling her eyes , her face twisted in sadness and let herself cry like an idiot .

Oh no! He had made her cry! Panicking, Ozzie desperately tried to help the distraught woman clean her shirt, all the while apologizing again and again and cursing himself for being clumsy. When it became obvious that no amount of paper towels or washcloths would save her top, Azrael had a thought. "Miss, please let me make this up to you. We have a small washing machine in the back for our uniforms. Let me get you another drink and I will lend you my shirt while yours is cleaned" He offered hopefully.

"It's okay.... It's not... Thank you" she said between sobs . She tried to compose herself, at least someone was kind to her today . She followed him .

Leading her through the crowd, he took the pretty young woman to the employee lockers in the back of the house, shooting the head bartender a warning look and narrowing his eyes when she made a joking comment about him moving fast already getting a girl out of her clothes. 

"Please don't mind her. Maricela has a terrible sense of humor." He said, trying to keep a very lovely image out of his head and stop his tail from unwinding from around his waist and wagging at the mental image. 

Once they were in the break room Ozzie offered the girl his spare shirt from his locker, a button-down white oxford that would likely be long enough to double as a short dress on her before stepping out to let her switch clothes. "I'm Azrael, by the way. Ozzie to my friends." He called over his shoulder.

"Ozzie... I'm Gaby" she said and changed, handing him the dirty top . "Sorry for crying... i just had an horrible day, not your fault really "

"Nice to meet you Gaby." He replied with a self-conscious smile, trying to hide the pointed teeth he had inherited from his mother. "If you want, I am happy to listen to your story. Sharing your sadness with a sympathetic ear can sometimes make it better, after all."

While he was talking Azrael tossed Gaby's shirt into what was supposed to be an empty washer and closed the lid to start the machine up. 

"Would you like a drink or something to eat while you wait?" He offered, smiling for her again in spite of himself.

"Well .... okay" she came for that anyway. Maybe talking (and crying) was the best way to feel better . Ordering a new strawberry milk smoothie and siping from time to time, she told him about his day . "... And Im im pretty sure he is with another girl in this instant, i'm not stupid"

He brought her a replacement drink and sat with her on the sofa in the breakroom while Gaby told her story, growing visibly more angry as she got to the part where her boyfriend as good as left her for another woman until a thin trail of smoke started trailing up from his mouth through clenched teeth. "Absolutely unforgivable! He must either be blind, an idiot, or both if he could even think of another woman when he has someone as wonderful as you!" He said vehemently, the tip of his tail smacking against the ground in anger as he spoke.

" Ozzie... you are fine? you are gonna turn the fire alarm ... " she felt amused , he was too sweet for someone so scary at first sight "Thank you , you are too sweet..."

Realizing that he was smoking, Azrael quickly took a glass of water and drank it down to stop the smoke, looking down and running one hand idly along his horns in embarrassment. "Sorry, a bad habit from my mother. I promise not to start any fires." He said with what he hoped was a playful wink. "No, thank you for talking to me even after a less than ideal introduction Gaby."

"You mom is draconian too? I think you are the first draconian I have met " she smiled at his wink. ‘Too cute and I'm such a mess....’

"Oh no, she's a full dragon. Wings, breathes fire, giant pile of gold and jewels, the whole shebang." Azrael laughed. "Dad always joked that he liked her better than the princess he was supposed to save." He added, rolling his bright gold eyes at the memory of his dad's bad jokes from when he was a kid.

"Whoa, a knight and a dragon... that's a story to tell ! " her mind tried to take her to cri again but she fighted it . Screw mister perfect she waved her troughs away.

"A knight? Oh no, he's a history professor at the local university." Ozzie laughed. "Maybe-" He was cut off by the buzzer signaling the end of the wash cycle.

"Oh, there is. !" she lamented don't having more excuses to talk to the draconian man. He had to work anyway .....

"Ah, there it is." Azrael echoed, not able to completely hide his disappointment at losing his excuse to talk to Gaby. "Hopefully the stain didn't set in." He thought aloud, reaching into the washer and pulling out a deep wine red tablecloth... wait... 

"Oh no no no no no!" Ozzie cursed under his breath, looking in and seeing that whoever was supposed to hang the linens they used for the tables had left them in the machine the night before and now Gaby's shirt was completely dyed a bright pink!

"Oh God! I'm so sorry Gaby! I am such an idiot for not looking!" He cursed himself, hanging his head in shame. He just couldn't stop messing up! Now he was bound to have made a lovely lady cry again.

Gaby looked at the man and the now pink top .... and she couldn't help laugh. it was a good laugh, she had to hold her belly "Oh god, Ozzie" she laughed again "Don't worry .... " she breathed deep "You made me laugh , that's more that i can ask " she said to the mortified draconian.

If he could have, he would have curled into a ball and disappeared, but at least Gaby was laughing. A smile was so much nicer on her than tears. "At the very least let me take you shopping for a replacement." He offered hopefully. "Maybe tomorrow afternoon?"

"Oh, you don't have to... you have been too kind.... " she thinked "Well, only if i can invite you something later." She took her phone and passed it to him "And that's not discussable . Save your number! "

"Whatever you want. I'm yours... er... at your service." He stammered, smiling doubly as he keyed in his phone number and handed it back to her before offering her his to do the same. "Does noon sound alright?"

"I'm a freelancer , i can fix my schedule no problem " she smiled "Thank you Ozzie. i will give you back this tomorrow" she grabbed her things and the now pink shirt. She gave him a quick peek on the cheek "Thanks for cheering me up ! You are a great guy  "

"It 's a date!"

Ozzie spent the rest of the night smiling from ear to ear, not even minding the jokes he had to endure at the hands of the other employees. As far as he cared tomorrow couldn't get here fast enough! .

[flyonthewallmedstudent]

Watching House as a Physician.  Season 2 Episode 3. Infectious diseases & Respiratory.

Welcome to another episode of medicine done badly.  I’ve been watching House on Amazon prime.  Got the subscription during the pandemic, as like everyone else, I’ve garnered an online shopping habit now. 

Alright. In the opening scene a young roof worker falls off the roof presumably due to acute shortness of breath. i.e. trouble breathing. (why do we use the term shortness of breath? it’s the english version of the greek term dyspnoea - the actual preferred language of Western doctors. Fuck do I know why we like Greek and Latin so much. Moving on.) Then cut to Dr. Cuddy examining him in the back of the ambulance. 

This would never happen in real life. Yes you can be on the scene and handover to the paramedics or EMT when they arrive as a doctor. But they would take over. I personally wouldn’t have the balls to look after a patient in a different environment, different resources and field I’m not familiar with. You can have field Emergency docs - but requires different training. 

Also, ethically, you’re not meant to treat family or friends. Dr. Cuddy later in the episode gets a bit emotionally involved - this is why we don’t treat people close to us. We lose objectivity. We make mistakes. And you see later see Cuddy do some pretty bad ones. 

I feel like much of this episode is not really IM. THere’s less differential diagnoses being made. More side tracks into trauma, emergency, intensive care or vascular surgery. 

Anyhoo. Trauma and emergency would manage the fall and post fall traumatic injuries. And the trauma protocol was either not shown or completely off in this episode. Surgeons don’t seem to exist in House, at least not very much. Similarly, no other doctors exist except surgeons in Grey’s anatomy.  Also you can’t clear a C Spine clinically, which is what Dr. Cuddy does in the back of the ambulance. You’d need a CT first and clearance both radiological (by a radiologist) and a clinician. 

Aaaanddd, you can’t just listen to the chest and go no pneumothorax (air in lung or collapsed lung) - yes it’s reassuring, but again you’d need imaging to confirm this, given how serious a condition this is. It is realistic to consider in the setting of a fall, particularly if there are rib fractures that can puncture the lung.

Once the more critical injuries are managed, we would look after the IM side to things. 

So. Finally.. differential diagnoses.

Takes what seems and feels like days before they finally sit down and go through differentials. Really not much on that white board. Dark fingers, broken ribs, fever and lung infiltrates. Time line’s not clear on when he developed the fever.

Presenting complaint isn’t really addressed. It could be: - Dyspnoea, leading to the fall, he’s requiring O2 via nasal prongs, which suggests that he’s hypoxic (this is definitely odd in a young guy who’s normally very physical fit if he works as labourer). so much to unpack here, but they never get into this well.  Post fall, Cuddy notices his ring and pinky finger becoming dusky, which becomes very central in this episode. Very few things would cause this. pains me that they do no differentials on a white board for this alone. 

Then a lot of throwing around medical terms. 

PTT prolonged and Fibrinogen off. These are markers of your coagulation pathway and signs that you’re not forming the clots the way you should if you have an injury.  DIC is also thrown around. What is DIC? Disseminated intravascular coagulopathy. Certainly severe sepsis and trauma can cause this and lead to severe bleeding. It will throw off your coagulation pathways (things that stop bleeding). It’s not common. I’ve treated it once, while I was rotating in ICU, it is not standard ward medicine practice. Standard therapy is fresh frozen plasma (FFP) and even large metropolitan hospitals only have a limited supply. It’s a huge concern for surgery and post-op (as you patient will just not stop bleeding after you cut them open, and if not treated, potentially bleed to death). Cuddy mentions ARDS. Acute respiratory distress syndrome, it could be a complication, but it’s not a cause. Again, falls more into the realm of critical care (a la ICU). However, patient had SOB prior to the fall. Finally HOuse makes the observation. of “what if he was sick before he had his run in with gravity...” Everyone jumps to Pneumonia. And this is where it gets confusing.  If he was unwell, the minute he entered the emergency department with a fever and hypoxia, they would have worked him up for any garden variety pneumonia, bacterial or viral. Cultures would have been sent and imaging. Any young hypoxic patient would prompt a closer look at the chest. And no one waits that long to start antibiotics - “sepsis kills” is a slogan often used around hospitals. You have to initiate empirical therapy within 30 mins, to reduce mortality and morbiditiy. 

Ordering an Echocardiogram (USS of the Heart) also makes no sense in the context of a lung infection. I would order one, but not to look at the lungs.

Then there’s the most unrealistic thing about this series. Doctors breaking into patient homes.

It is however, a good way to showcase social history. It’d be boring to watch a doctor ask the patient outright about their living situation etc, but it’s far more interesting to see exactly how they live. We try as much as possible to illustrate to each other and ourselves what the living environment and working environment of our patients are like. 

In the context of infection, a good social history can point out exposure. As they exemplify by showing dead rodents and mould. This leads to 2 further differentials: Rat bite fever (caused by streptobacillus, something you’d see in the US, but probably not anywhere else), it’s an unrealistic differential in general. And the 2nd is aspergillosis.  Okay..  So aspergillus is a mould commonly found in our environment. In fact it’s everywhere around us. 

THere’s few times when it’s an issue.  It is a concern in respiratory syndromes like asthma or bronchiectasis. And also as an opportunistic infection in immunocompromised individuals. in the context of asthma, it’s not so much the aspergillus itself that causes issue, it’s our body’s over reaction. It’s a hypersensitivity issue that causes inflammation in the lungs or a pneumonitis. We even gave it a name. Allergic bronchopulmonary aspergillosis. It’s still badness, but it doesn’t happen that quickly. We also have specific tests for this, which were obviously not considered in this episode of medicine done badly. In the immunocompromised host (steroid therapy in transplant patients or those on chemo, etc.), you can get the invasive mould as an opportunistic infection.  I don’t really understand why they think it would be the case here. Also, killing the bug with heavy duty anti fungals will only give more issues rather than do anything. They start him on amphotericin. this is not standard practice.  And now it flips to why amphotericin is not standard practice or first line treatment for invasive aspergillosis. The patient has now become anuric (not making any urine). (First line drug by the way is voraconazole, superior efficacy in trials with a lower mortality rate and ADRs) Also, note that they have just jumped straight to dire renal failure from the amphotericin. No work up. That said, heavy drugs like amphotericin are often a cause, but  It’s often temporary with the appropriate supportive measures (stop insulting agents, give hydration, monitor fluid balance), reversible, even if you require temporary dialysis or haemofiltration. Anyways, would get into AKI another day, that’s a whole other post in and of itself.  Then his hand is apparently “dying.” There’s pain on light touch, but it’s not a cold, pulseless limb. Or discoloured. doesn’t add up. This now enters vascular surgeon territory. Again. It’s interesting that there’s never any referrals to any other teams. If he has good circulation, I would imagine they would try to save the hand and consider other differentials. 

The only time I can think of an emergency amputation in this situation is necrotising fascitiis. That’s the only thing that would occur that rapidly  AND necessitate losing tissue or limb.  With a young person who’s this ill, there’s often multiple subspecialties involved by this point. I’m also surprised he’s not in ICU.

Then there’s a buncha filler scenes of the cast of house getting emotional. Ho my god, they’ve taken the hand of a young 20 something physical labourer. Indeed, this is badness. Unlike House, we actually are trained to always consider how a patient’s illness impacts their activities of daily living and livelihood. 

I find the general population assumes that we practice medicine in a vacuum, we merely treat the clinical illness and ignore everything else. They imagine that we all must be like house. 

Actually we try to put things in perspective as much as possible and knowing our limitations in this area, we often enlist the help of friends - physiotherapists, occupational therapists and social workers. They never exist on TV or on the movies. Ever. Unless it’s to portray how terrible it is to be a social worker.  From time to time in this episode, Cuddy laments that being chief of medicine is too administrative and she hasn’t been a doctor in years. That also doesn’t happen in real life. If you’re chief you’re still a doctor. You have admin shit to do deal with yes, but you still practice. It’s like being chief resident, in all the TV shows with one of these, you still seem them working as residents, be it scrubs or grey’s anatomy. 

Back to the differential. They finally get to endocarditis. Culture negative to be precise. That indeed would explain the bilateral dusky fingers that led to unnecessary amputation. Septic emboli. 

Going to stop here, more out of exhaustion now. I’ve created quite a lengthy post. Happy to reblog thoughts on culture negative endocarditis on request later. This is a worthy topic to study up on for students or residents. At least review Duke’s criteria and think about your clinical features like Roth Spots and Janeway lesions or Ouch Osler’s nodes. 

The ending is also a far fetched connection to make, but is one that we would consider. In fact, we would ask in detail every time from day one - have you had any exposure to animals. It’s very rare to see someone so young be that sick out of the blue when you’re immunocompetent and have no underlying predisposing conditions. If there’s no focal source, then we would even ask about injectable recreational drugs, exotic travels, sexual health. 

Most of the time, patients that sick are honest to their doctors. 

But what about..

Frankly, much as we lie as humans, when our lives our on the line, we’re generally pretty honest (sometimes too honest) with the people we want to save us. 

Any patient who is young and comes to hospital requiring inpatient admission, they’d be investigated by subspecialties with expertise in certain areas such as infectious disease. The dept of infectious disease would either be home team, or all over this patient as they special in the realm of both common and rare infectious diseases, culture negative endocarditis would have been considered before a hand amputation.

The term, “department of diagnostic medicine is laughable,” particularly when they consider it the only department in the world in the show. 

In actuality, it’s a department that is universal and exists everywhere. it’s Internal medicine. Dr. Vivek Murthy, the next surgeon general (and also the last one under Obama) is an internal medicine physician. Ken Jeong of Community and the Hangover fame is also a physician of internal medicine. 

Beginning to get the sense that most episodes are going to end with a diagnosis that is either infectious disease, rheumatology or haematology. But generally those tend to be most interesting and give the most plot twists or meaty differentials V.s. a stroke or acute myocardial infarction is fairly straightforward to diagnose. 

This is a very twisty episode in all the wrong directions. 

Dyspnoea is a very common presenting complaint. There’s a properly done approach to this in the podcast by the Curbsiders by the way. 

[asa-kai]

Ref. to Chapter 177

Faint chirps of sparrows blending with the soft blow of air from the sea. All of that is crystal clear for Saionji Ukyo the former Sonar man from the Kingdom of Science.

It was almost like yesterday, when they were still sailing on the big blue beneath the widespread  sky along with seagulls and now they are making their way to their next destination-South America.

After a long day of riding their motorbikes the crew made a stop to eat and rest. Thanks to Senku's customized motorbikes they can quickly outrun Stanley and his team.

Although they made it that far, the fact they're being pursued can't settle in Ukyo's mind.

Looking around finding a high place to spend the night he found a huge boulder high enough for anyone to bother climbing but just the right one for him to reach the top.

This little climbing is nothing compared to his past special forces training, he proudly recall. It would be nice though if he can find a tree on the dessert just like that back on the days when he's still working for the Tsukasa's Empire. Where he will watch Tsukasa break human statues in front of him....

Shaking off the bad memories, he perched on the top absorbing the nostalgia  of the night.

"Finally a relaxing silence" he thought to himself.

Or he thought so......

The minimal noises from the campfire can't escape his sensitive ears. The laughter and the conversations are still loud enough for him to be heard.

"It can't be helped, if only I can shut them like my eyes." Ukyo pouted gazing above the night sky again.

He kept wondering if they could defeat Stanley or reach their destination safely or if they could even survive anything that could happen tonight.

He was so disturbed of the thought of what he's going to do if Senku can't fufill his promise that nobody dies. Calming his nerves and clearing his thoughts he starts to close his tired eyes.

Just then he heard footsteps below coming toward the boulder his perching on and base on the weight,speed and pattern of the footsteps it matches someone from the battle team.

"Kohaku?" Ukyo mumbled without realizing saying it out loud.

The huntress' vigilant eyes suddenly looked up to the perching archer.

"What are you doing up there?"

Before the young man can say a word he was surprised to see Kohaku sitting next to him enough for sending him to jolt.

She's really fast. The boulder must be really just a pebble to her

Despite the archer's obvious reaction the huntress seems to be deep into thoughts. She tilt her head up to sky and smile wistfully. Forgetting what just happened the man beside decided to join his new company's little stargazing.

The breeze is faint yet cool, chilling their skin but making one smile lightly.

Kohaku turned her head into the campfire's direction and stared back to the sky. Noticing that she's been doing it five times from now,Ukyo getting concerned finally asked the restless lady.

"Um...You've been looking back five times already...what seems to be the matter?"

" Oh sorry....did I bothered you?"Kohaku replied flustered.

" No not at all but I just get a little concrened." He sheepishly smiled.

The crescent moon dimly radiates light on landscape around them. Its almost vague but Ukyo can absolutely tell that Kohaku just smiled again. A meaningful yet gloom smile at that, as she turn around again back to the usual place under her observation.

"So...are you looking at Senku?" Ukyo forcedly scoffed.

Kohaku darted her eyes at the resident archer with a fearful look. However the pink blush on her face gave away the answer.

"Ukyo don't tell me...."

Her voice alone is already eerie when shes talking like that, no wonder they call her beastly names. But right now Ukyo fears that she'll blow, he can't break his good impression he left on Kohaku.

No one would want to ruin her trust

....."you can hear other people's thoughts?!"

Ukyo let out a loud laugh that Kohaku have never heard coming from him. Since he is usually silent the huntress was left jaw dropped.

"Sorry, I just thought it was absurd but its obvious that your looking at our crafty scientist."

Looking at Kohaku's blank face he continued.

"Observance is everything Kohaku you know that right? First of all Hyoga and Tsukasa is present on the campfire so you will have no reason to be worry of a sudden attack. Second you just finished putting Suika to sleep so you came up here to unwind, clearly enough to conclude that your confident that the crew is safe"

" But Ukyo how did you know I was looking at Senku?" Kohaku questioned poking her chin.

Ukyo took off his hat and start tossing it and then he answered.

" Well you know....I spend my free time observing both nature and people and through all that there's not a time I will not hear a talk about you two especially from Ginro..."

" Ginro....that scum..."

" Its not his fault though since his trying his best to lower his voice, I just happen to still hear it anyway." He concluded wearing his makeshift hat again.

"Oh having such great ears an advantage yes?" Kohaku sarcastically grinned.

" Its not that great"  Ukyo defended, besides you two usually hang out together-just the two of you." Realizing he had said to much Ukyo turn to Kohaku to see her reaction.

" Oh so your a stalker now huh?" Kohaku even grinned wider and there is literally like a black smoke surrounding her right now.

Ukyo gulped down with two beads of sweat on his face, but what he expects on what the huntress is going to do is turned down though.

Kohaku hug her knees and hide her face.

"Who am I to be offended by you...Im the same too. I will sometimes shortly glance at Senku when he's not aware and I don't know why. I constantly worry about him as an ally and friend but I think its getting out of hand and  becoming a habit."

Although Kohaku is not showing a bit of faze on her tone but he can tell that she's worried and troubled for some reason.

"At least you can just close your eyes and never look again." Ukyo pointed out.

" That's the problem I can't turn away my eyes on him nor I can shut them. Not when there's another girl beside him" Kohaku's voice cracked at the last words she said.

Ukyo just came to a realization how wonderous yet coincedental life  can be sometime

Moments ago  he's worrying about the well-being of his friends who are safe sound but his companion is worrying about her problem on worrying too much  about Senku than the given normal.

Him worrying about the things that are still not happening.

Her worrying about a small thing but tormenting her right now

However he can relate on Kohaku's envy on her advantageous sense of sight.

"Our so called gifts can be such a nuisance huh? But maybe you can still use their trouble you know?"

Kohaku is now a friend and an ally to him and he will gladly help her if she need it.

It is the first time he'll personally offer help to the mighty huntress. Given Kohaku's physique its almost though she will need no help but ironically right now  she's carrying which sometging which is to say in the old world a common problem but even she the mighty Kohaku can't handle it on her own. Theres no human who haven't experienced jealousy not even once.

Kohaku hanging on what he just said paid her attention closely to the archer as if like  desperate child looking for answers.

Ukyo can't even conclude if she's solely worrying about Senku's well-being or if its something more than that and it looks like Kohaku is doubting herself as well.

Ukyo took a deep breath hoping what he's going to say will help.

"Like I said Kohaku, observation is everything."

The huntress gets even more attentive at this point. Confirming the words in his head Ukyo continues.

"The truth is I'm also envious of my sensitive hearing, sometimes I will hear things Im not suppose to hear but you know what really helps? Ukyo paused giving a warm smile.

Yes what Kohaku needs right now is emphathy  even though his knowledge in psychology is inferior that of Gen but it is one of the common and genuine way to help out anyone.

..."I just let it."

Kohaku slightly flinch and her eyes widened.

"Forcing yourself to hold it in even when your about to throw up just makes matters worse right?  I should know, my first day at the submarine makes me really sick that I want to pull my gut out."

Yes your'e not alone

...

...

" Uh sorry about the gruesome illustration."

"No its only normal." Kohaku brushed off.

That's Senku's lioness for you

"I knew Im not the only one... But what I fear if I get attach to him and letting go will be more difficult." Kohaku lamented.

The issue is now clear. She's just blaming it all to her eyes but the real deal is her feelings.

She's growing alright and it is unavoidable for anyone to feel that way.

Like Ukyo can see Senku and Kohaku had been literally went through blades and stones and their mutual trust makes them good friends but somehow its likly that one might start to look at the other differently.

The pair were silent for a while. Letting the evening aura take over making light sounds of air passing through stones.

Ukyo rest his head against his arms for a second trying to get answers for Kohaku's problem.

Though.....

Is he even fit for solving her problem,maybe it would be better if Gen will tell her....no does he even need to solve it?

"Sorry if I bother you Ukyo, I  get too emotional sometimes." Kohaku stand up and started to brush off the dirt from her navy blue dress and just as she's about to wave goodnight, she sensed a sudden spark beside her. Right there, Ukyo made a little  fire from using his bows and with a dozen of small sticks he gathered.

"The answer depends on your resolve Kohaku...you can either choose to look at him forever or shut your eyes, whatever works best for you all I can do is give you my advice. I don't have the authority to tell you what to do...... But right now why don't you let your senses take you somewhere else. It's getting cold you know." Ukyo hummed while putting more ignition on the fire.

Kohaku was drawn to the relaxing warmth of the newly made campfire a little smaller than that with the rest of the crew. Without knowing it she's starting to forget on what she's chafing about, a moment ago.

Unexpectedly an east wind blew caugthing the duo off-guard letting Kohaku's hair went loose and almost taking Ukyo's hat away. Without warning a stronger wind came and blew their makeshift campfire away, getting dark again so suddenly made Kohaku laugh akin to Ukyo who's groaning over the blown campfire.

"Well, some things don't always look and stay as they seem, one minute ago we have the fire I thought will hold yet now its already gone."Ukyo chuckled though  attempting to make the fire again.

"That makes sense....everything change eventually, up to the point where a problem is no more." Kohaku softly stated coming up to her realization.

Ukyo smiled he was  relieved that Kohaku finally get what he means.

"Well Im glad the lesson Im implying  reached you."The archer exclaimed.

" Life goes on Kohaku"

Kohaku nod and smile in agreement.

"Yeah...I also learned you should never build a small fire on a high windy place". She jokingly concluded.

"Come  on I know that....."Ukyo sheepishly laughed.

The night even grew darker but the stars and the moon appears to grew  even brighter. The pair enjoyed the diamond ornamented void as the evening hyms envelops around them.

"Listen Kohaku" Ukyo whispered.

"This might be just one of my ideals but I always believe that life has many angles that each one can see and discover that's why I don't like anyone to die  because they won't be able to enjoy it if they're dead... So Im convincing you to look at the other angles too Kohaku."

The huntress eyes were opened a hint of sparkles will be found in her eyes and a warm smile on her face being moved of what just her trustworthy comrade said. Although it's still not clear in her mind what he is saying. But whatever it is she will someday understand just like what he said life goes on.

" I'll gladly take the advice,I will surely enjoy, look forward to it."

-end

Obviously this is my first fanfic... Just to be frank I got tired reading the romance genre so I made something platonic and between- friends -kind -of- a -thing fanfic between low-key duo in dr. Stone. (Yes you just read it)

Speaking of low-key I'm also making fanfic for other underrated dcst (so called canon couples)

[cruisercrusher]

Dicktiger week day one— birthday 🎂 🎂🎂

Dick was cold when he woke up.

Which was not a new thing. He’d been finding himself getting cold quite frequently in the last few days. March wasn’t exactly known for being the warmest of months, and he and Tiger had been steadily making their way northwards. And, being on the run was kind of just like that.

But he wasn’t cold because of the icy wind outside. Although there was a draft— these cheap motel rooms were far from five star.

The bed itself was cold.

Also not a new thing. Tiger rose early to pray at dawn, every day without fail, and always stayed up after that. Dick always tried to sleep in as much as he could. Rest so thoroughly evaded him at night, after all.

The room was cold. Again, not because of the draft. Dick lifted his head and looked around the small space, and realized he was completely alone.

He jolted, a flash of worry like lightning making him bolt upright. He almost threw himself out of bed and into his gear when halfway through the action he spotted the handwritten note on the bedside table.

Wait here.

Dick frowned. So Tiger had just left with only those instructions, not telling Dick that he was going, when he would be back or what he was doing? They were supposed to be a team. You were supposed to communicate with your teammates.

Look, he knew that Tiger didn’t like working with him. Fine, Dick didn’t need him to like working with him. But they still needed to work together.

He sighed and pushed himself out of bed anyway, knowing he probably wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep after that shot of adrenaline.

First thing Dick did was open up their med kit and dig around, looking for a painkiller. He’d woken up with another headache. It seemed like he was constantly having headaches lately, of various degrees of pain, but he kept smiling through it.

Being on the run was not fun. It never is fun. He could act like he was having fun and make jokes and poke the bear that was Tiger’s temper until he lost a finger all through it, but really, it was not fun. Between the fights and the car chases, and the bouts of banter, in the quiet moments when all they could do is keep running or try and get as much rest as they could before they start running again… everything caught up to him.

Too much had happened in the last… year? Two years? He didn’t know, his grasp on time was slipping— too much had happened that he hadn’t processed and he was paying for it now.

And moments alone were the worst of all.

Suddenly having to go off all his meds all at once because there wasn’t time to pack anything or bring anything with them other than the clothes on their backs did not help either.

Seriously did not help. In fact, Dick felt like shit.

He found a little bottle of pain meds. He shook it. It was mostly empty. He sighed again and took one. Dry. Just to spite himself.

Dick wished Tiger had told him he was going somewhere— he would have asked him to grab some Advil if he got the chance. He’d even have thrown in some puppy dog eyes and a ‘pretty please’.

Luckily, he didn’t actually have to wait that long before the door to their room unlocked from the outside and creaked open.

Tiger walked in, stone faced, but in a way that looked like he was trying hard to keep his expression blank. Even still, there was a slight furrow to his brow, that seemed to stick through his every waking moment. He was holding a box.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” the other spy said upon seeing Dick sitting at the flimsy table. He walked over and set the box down on the table in front of him, then took a step back and folded his arms. “Here.”

Dick looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Is this some sort of prank box? A spring-loaded clown doll isn’t going to jump out at me if I open it, right?”

Tiger scoffed. “Of course not. Just open it.”

So Dick opened it.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, exactly, but it wasn’t a birthday cake.

It was a pretty typical store bought cake, with white icing and red, blue and yellow little fondant balloons decorating the top, around the fancy cursive letters that read ‘joyeux anniversaire’.

He blinked first down at the cake, then up at Tiger, a look of obvious confusion on his face. “Huh?” He said, quite intelligently if you asked him.

“It is a birthday cake.” Tiger grunted. There was a hint of red in his cheeks. He probably wasn’t expecting to have to explain himself.

“Yeah, I can see that.” Dick deadpanned. “But what for?”

Tiger frowned. “It is your birthday.”

Dick blinked again. “It is? Shit, I didn’t even notice the date. Wait, how do you know my birthday?”

“It was in your file. I read it when we first were assigned partners.”

“And you remembered?” Dick smiled, and Tiger blushed harder and looked away. “And you— you got me a cake?”

“It’s customary.” Tiger grumbled. “If you don’t like it—“

“No, no! I do like it! I love it!” Dick looked back down at the cake, then at Tiger again. “I— I mean— you—“

His smile started to crack and crumble as he stammered. “You… care…?”

Tiger frowned as Dick’s whole expression started to dissolve and his eyes went distinctly glassy. Dick quickly started to wipe at the tears that pooled there, though yet to fall. “Sorry— Sorry.” He muttered. “I just— I should say thank you. This is… really nice.”

But for some reason speaking those last few words just made things worse for himself, and Dick turned away with a single, gasping sob, before Tiger could see him fall apart. Why now, he internally lamented, why do I have to have a break down now?

“Uh—“ He heard from behind him, and Dick could easily imagine the confused expression that must be on Tiger’s face. The man wasn’t exactly the emotionally supportive type, that was Dick’s job. He felt bad for making Tiger witness this mess— especially after the other spy went out of his way to do something so nice for him. Tiger didn’t deserve this.

The chair across from him scraped across the floor as Tiger pulled it out from the table, and creaked loudly when he sat down. “Richard,” he said, and Dick turned further away, hiccuping a little. “Are you… okay?”

No. Dick wanted to say. I’m not okay.

(Well if you wanted honesty that’s all you had to sayy I never want to let you down or have you go it’s BETTER OFF THIS WAY for all the dirty looks the photographs your boyfriend took remember when you Broke Your Foot from Jumping Out the Second floor I’m NOOOTTT OOOOKAYYY IM NOT—)

Yeah, okay.

Yeah, I’m fine, Dick also wanted to say. He didn’t know why, but he was always hesitant to tell people when he wasn’t doing alright. He never liked to burden people with his load of shit, especially not when they needed his help more.

But Tiger wouldn’t buy it for a second, and while he may not have been the emotionally supportive type Tiger also didn’t take any bullshit and wouldn’t appreciate Dick just lying to his face like that.

Though Dick was sure that absolutely no one would be convinced if they were in Tiger’s place, watching him cry his eyes out because of a birthday cake, and he tried to tell them nothing was wrong, literally through tears.

“No,” Dick said. “I’m not okay.”

(Well if you wanted honesty that’s all you had to sayy I never want to let you down or have you go it’s BETTER OFF THIS WAY for all the dirty looks the photographs your boyfriend took remember when you Broke Your Foot from Jumping Out the Second floor I’m NOOOTTT OOOOKAYYY IM NOT—)

Okay okay, enough of that.

“I can see that.” Tiger retorted, even though he was the one who asked in the first place. Dick decided to cut the guy some slack. He sniffed, wiped the tracks of tears off his cheeks as his (fucking annoying) crying slowed to a stop. He looked at Tiger over his shoulder.

“I… sorry, it’s just been… a rough year. A rough couple of years, actually.”

He didn’t elaborate any further. He probably didn’t need to. Tiger didn’t prompt him to elaborate. He probably didn’t need to, either. Dick suspected Tiger knew already about (most of) the shit that had made these last few years so rough. Dick didn’t know how Tiger knew, but Tiger had this way of knowing pretty much everything.

Maybe he was secretly a meta. Probably not, but maybe.

Dick turned more fully in his chair to sit in it the right way, except he pulled a foot up onto the seat to tuck his knee into his chest. He looked at the cake again. It looked, in all honesty, pretty good.

He just… wouldn’t think about the calories. He could do that much, pretty simple— eat some cake and not stress about the calories.

And if the sugar made him break out, then whatever. He didn’t care if Tiger saw him in an aesthetically imperfect state. And he knew that Tiger didn’t care about it— they’d been on the run for a hot minute and had only just a few days ago managed to get a hold of some toothbrushes. Tiger’s beard was scragglier than it usually was. Neither of their hygiene or grooming habits were exactly peak at the moment.

Besides, Dick thought with a smirk— despite the lingering wateryness of his eyes—, Tiger was into him regardless of poor hygiene and unwashed clothes, and regardless of how much Tiger insisted he hated him. Dick had caught him practically gazing longingly at his collarbones the other day— his collarbones! Dude was on a whole other level of both repression and desire if he was looking at Dick’s collarbones as opposed to his more popular assets.

But Dick appreciated that. He’d made a comment once on how frustrating it was that everyone was more focused on his ass than anything else about him, and Tiger hadn’t even glanced at his backside since. So he was a man with taste who also respected boundaries.

Also, he got me a birthday cake. He went out of his way to get me a birthday cake. That’s not really something you do for someone you hate. Dick thought, and smiled back up at Tiger, wiping away the last traces of his tears. Tiger eyed him suspiciously.

“What?”

Dick smiled wider. “You like me.”

Tiger coughed suddenly, looking away. He glared down at the floor. “I do not! I told you before, I can’t stand you, and— and I cannot wait until I no longer have to spend even a second in your infuriating presence.”

“Yeah, yeah, blah blah you’re going to kill me someday yada yada. Why’d you get me a cake, then?” Dick teased him.

“It— well—“ Tiger stammered, something that Dick had never ever seen before. “I… wanted… I thought you would like it.” He admitted. Dick’s smile softened.

“I do like it.” He said, “Thank you.”

Then he sniffed, for some reason the tightness in his throat came back and his eyes once more looked suspiciously dewy. Tiger got a slightly constipated look.

“Don’t start crying again. Please.”

Dick laughed. “I won’t, I won’t.” He said, hoping he wouldn’t. “It’s just… been a while since anyone did something so nice for me without an ulterior motive.”

He shot Tiger a look, but it was still teasing. “You haven’t got an ulterior motive, right?” Tiger sighed.

“I wish I did. Now are you going to eat that thing or not?”

“Oh, right.”

Tiger handed him a travel fork from one of their packs, then reached back down into the pack and started rummaging around. Dick wasted no time in plunging the bamboo fork right into the cake, breaking through the icing and pulling away a generous bite of what was revealed to be chocolate cake. Tiger looked back up as Dick brought his fork up to his mouth, and stared at him incredulously, with no small amount of disgust. Dick paused.

“What?”

“You’re just going to… eat the… and not even…” Tiger searched for words. Dick shrugged with a pout.

“It’s my birthday cake, I’ll eat it however I want to.” He pushed the cake box more towards the center of the small, round table. “Want some?”

The other spy looked between Dick, the cake with the one bite taken out of it, the fork in his hand, and back at Dick.

“You can just eat from the other side. I promise you won’t catch any cooties.” Dick offered, nudging the cake forward a little more. Tiger huffed and didn’t say anything, but still took out the other fork and stabbed it almost violently into the side of the cake closest to him. Dick finally ate his bite of cake, grinning around the fork. (Wow, this is good cake.) (Just don’t think about the calories.)

‘Cooties… ridiculous.’ He heard Tiger mutter under his breath. He ate another bite of the cake, his qualms about Dick’s lack of table manners seemingly behind him. “I shouldn’t have done this. If I had known you had forgotten it was your birthday I would have just let the day pass quietly without any fuss.”

“No, you wouldn’t have.” Dick said it like he was teasing, but he and Tiger both now knew it was true. “Hey, you know what would make a great birthday gift?”

Tiger raised an eyebrow at him. “What, the cake wasn’t enough for you?”

“Nope,” Dick smirked. “The only thing that can satisfy me…” he paused for dramatic effect, “is a hug.”

Tiger groaned. “Absolutely not.”

Dick didn’t mean to let his face fall. He meant to brush it off with a laugh, but then his smile slipped and he couldn’t catch it before it was simply gone. Tiger noticed. Dick cringed.

It would be nice if some cake and a little bit of banter were enough to fully lift his spirits, but unfortunately it just wasn’t cutting it.

He was still cold.

Tiger sighed and stood up. Dick looked away, chewing at his lip.

(Yeah, so maybe Tiger did care, but that didn’t necessarily mean he would never exploit Dick’s moments of weakness. He was still a spy, Dick had to remind himself. He was still a spy and everything Bruce ever instilled in him was telling him not to trust him.)

(But he trusted Tiger anyway. So maybe he was an idiot, he didn’t care. He just needed to be not so all encompassingly alone in this world right now.)

Tiger rounded the table so that he was standing next to Dick’s chair, positively towering over him. “Stand up.”

“What?” Dick blinked.

“Stand up.”

Dick stood up. Tiger had been standing so close to his chair that when he did he was nearly chest to chest with the taller man, and Dick felt his heart speed up involuntarily at the proximity.

Almost as soon as Dick was on his feet, Tiger was uncrossing his arms and wrapping them around Dick instead— one arm around his back pulling him close and one hand cupping the back of his neck, and if Dick didn’t know better he’d describe it as tender. Gentle.

Tiger didn’t do tender or gentle.

So how could you explain this, then?

Dick couldn’t see Tiger’s face like this, and he couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of sour expression he might have right now. Dick didn’t care. Tiger was— Tiger was warm, he was so warm, the heat seeping through Dick’s clothes and skin and all the way down to his bones.

He stifled a gasp and snapped his arms shut around Tiger’s back, clinging way tighter than was called for, but Tiger didn’t say anything.

Everything was going to be okay. Things sucked right now, but Dick wasn’t alone. Tiger was there, and he cared, and that was all Dick needed.

When Dick fell asleep that night, in a different but just as shitty motel room, pressed against Tiger’s side, he was warm.

[alannah-corvaine]

epilogue;

It’s a habit that she knows she should break.

There’s no reason to return to the First, not when the Shard is settled and calm and things are bad back home. But the vaunted Warrior of Light can’t help herself, can’t stay away. There are things we cannot afford to lose, the Exarch had told her. His words have resonated with her more than he could ever know. Just not in the way that he had meant it. The world can’t afford to lose her. And Alannah…

...she can’t lose him.

She already has, of course. He was gone before she’d known she’d miss him, before the dust had even settled after their last meeting on the burning sands of Thanalan. She’d never expected to see him again, never expected to follow his footsteps back to the First. Never thought he’d be a misspoken memory maligned by a fate he’d never asked for, in whose footsteps she could do naught but tread. 

And then...to meet again the way that they had. To learn his thoughts and fears and the demons that haunted him, and to find that they mirror her own. His shoulder, though that of a specter, has seen more of her tears than her comrades of many years. How can she explain the connection between them when she barely understands it herself? 

In any case, she has long since served her purpose here. There are no more foes to vanquish, no shadows to peer into. No, her trips to the First since the fall of Emet-Selch have been unsanctioned and secret. They have to stop, she thinks. But she can’t stop.

Perhaps she could have, if it weren’t for the boy.

Alannah can’t decide if this is a cruelty or a kindness. If it were anybody else, she could not be sure, but his soul is entangled with hers, there is no mistaking it for another’s. 

The boy is young when they meet for the first time. The only time, because she keeps herself distant. He is innocent, ignorant of the deeds that have earned him this second chance. Alannah has decided that she will not be the one to tell him. He deserves a life free of pain and of worry. He deserves to be happy. 

So she watches from afar, easing the anxious ache in her chest with her various visits. Always a stranger, an unseen silent guardian. The time between worlds flows erratically, and though she is aware of its mysterious twisting and turning, she cannot help but be taken aback each time she returns. After an absence of weeks in the Source, she may visit once more to find that years have passed on the First.

To see him grown, a boy becoming a man, brings her a joy that borders on terror. The fear of losing him once more brings her back again and again, indulging in a selfish need that is unbecoming of the selfless Warrior of Light. And yet. 

This particular sojourn finds her hovering outside the window of a Kholusian tavern, her face hidden in the shadows cast by the flickering candles in the window. She has nearly made up her mind to go inside, determined to keep her cloak pulled tight around her with her hood hiding her features. Her eyes are drawn instantly to the youth seated at the center table, surrounded by loud and rowdy companions. These faces she knows too, and her heart gladens at the sight of them together once more. 

Putting aside her misgivings, she pushes the door open and enters. 

Instantly she is assaulted by anxiety, certain that the white of her hair and the unmistakable aura of power will give her away. But the tavern dwellers take no notice of her, strange and foreign as she is, and Alannah decides that the tense set of her shoulders is more like to make her stand out. She makes her way to a less occupied corner, murmuring her choice of drink to a maid as she passes by. 

The inn is crowded this eve, and as she weaves her way through the sea of people, she can’t help but feel awash in a celebratory warmth. Nigh on fifteen years have passed in the First since her victory over the Light, and not for a moment have the people taken their hard-won peace for granted. A dream-like calm enfolds her in its embrace, and she finds herself lost in memories as various faces pass her by.  

The twinkling lights dim and blur as her eyes become heavy. Soon a blink becomes a nod, and she succumbs to a drowsy comfort dragging her down beneath consciousness. Just for a moment, she thinks hazily, already lost to the tug of a sweet dream.

“Ardbert, ya lazy lout, put some muscle inta it!”

The large galdjent roars with laughter, even as beads of sweat dot his forehead. His companion, the dark-haired hume Ardbert, struggles to contain his own mirth as he grins fiercely at his friend. The two are locked in a mighty struggle of an arm wrestling match, neither willing to admit defeat, muscles straining as they wrest for dominance. 

“You’re getting soft on me, Branden,” he chuckles. Truth be told, his own arm is starting to shake from weakness, and there’s a very good chance he’s going to lose this match. Beside him, Renda-Rae lets loose a raucous cheer, and it’s obvious the mystel is deep in her cups.  Lammit and Nyelbert sit nearby deep in discussion about some finer point of magic that Arbert will readily admit he neither understands nor cares about. Still, their company is welcome, even if they have different interests. 

Moments later his arm falls, and Branden claims another victory. Chagrined, Ardbert pays for his next drink, lamenting the lightness of his coin purse. Shaking his head, he takes a long drought of his own ale. “We’re not finished here,” he declares, fighting a smile. “Not until I’ve won, anyway.” 

“If it’s a challenge you want, it’s a challenge you’ll get, boy!” Branden offers his outstretched hand once more, an amused twinkle in his eye, and Ardbert accepts it immediately.

“Wait wait wait wait wait!” Renda-Rae calls, halting their competition. “I say this contest needs some real stakes. What about…” the mystel taps her chin, deep in thought. “I got it! Loser has to wash the winner’s leathers for the next moon!” The men recoil in disgust, neither wanting to imagine such a scenario. Still, they agree, and the terms are set. They clasp arms once more, the beginnings of adrenaline coursing through their veins. 

As they await Renda-Rae’s command to start, Arbert takes a quick survey of the room. Most of the tavern’s patrons are familiar to him, having lived in this village their whole lives. They are men and women he has known for years, shared in their triumphs and their heartaches. Some few are strangers, but the town is no stranger to passersby, and their coin is always welcome. 

One such stranger he spies in a corner, hooded and unobtrusive. Something about them draws his eye, and he watches with interest as they suddenly jolt upright. The hood falls from their face, and now he can see that the stranger is a pale young woman. Her long hair is a brown darker than his, and as it spills around her he can see distinct strands of white threaded throughout. An interesting appearance for a woman who looks no older than his own age. 

She hurriedly rises from her seat, obviously in a rush as she makes for the door. Her gaze flickers across the room as she pauses at the door, and for the briefest instant his eyes catch hers. 

Wildfire erupts in his veins, and Renda-Rae’s voice is a million malms away as she calls the beginning of the match. The pressure against his hand is nothing against the sudden tidal surge of memory that threatens to drown him. All sound fades from the room, all sight from his eyes but the image of her face, burned into his being like a brand. 

“Oi, whatsa matter with him? You in there, Ardbert? Keep it up and you’ll be washing my underthings ‘til your next nameday!”

“I think he’s lookin’ at that girl. Look at ‘im, he’s completely besotted! I can’t believe me eyes.”

But Ardbert hears none of this. The roar of blood in his ears is too loud, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He knows her name, it’s on the tip of his tongue. A parade of images flashes in his mind, each one tightening a vice around his ribcage. Memories of another life, memories of an afterlife. Memories of her.

Midnights in her room. Fear and despair in her eyes. Her hand touching his, the brilliant light between them. Her laughter carried on the wind and a smile just for him. A final stand and her gift of redemption.

He can’t breathe. A pain such as he has never known in his life threatens to break him in half. He’s half out of his chair before he knows what he’s doing, tugging his hand away from Branden without acknowledgement of his sudden fervor. She’s already out the door, taking her answers with her. Panic ignites in his breast, and his fevered brain finally loosens its grip on her name. 

“ALANNAH.”

Stupid stupid stupid!

She should have never gone in there, should never have let herself get comfortable. To fall asleep here of all places! Her lack of diligence is astounding and this is probably why the Scions never let her go anywhere by herself. Alannah steps out into the darkening eve, drawing her cloak around her and adjusting her fallen hood. Sloppy, she sneers at herself in disgust.    

A disaster, that’s what she is, making these trips to the First when it’s all done and over. She’s the only one who can’t let go or move on. Sometimes, when she’s bitter, she wonders why she should. Her friends aren’t the ones with a fragmented soul, with a piece in the shape of the hole in her heart. There are some things that cannot be explained by words alone, that only the soul knows, some wounds that will never be whole again. 

A commotion from inside the inn catches her attention. A lone shout sends tingles up her spine, making her knees weak, and all the breath leaves her. She doesn’t know how, but she knows. Her heart beats frantically, erratically as the door slams open behind her. Her own name thrums in her ears, a radio signal calling her home. 

His harsh breathing and heavy steps come to a halt in her wake.

“Alannah.” 

A small sob escapes her. How long has she heard that voice in her dreams? How long has it been since those blue eyes beheld her, aware of who she is? She is afraid to turn, afraid to face a dream that will vanish in the morning light. She shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t have come. He deserves a life free from the trials and travails of a hero’s lot, and she will never ever be able to give that to him.

“It is you, isn’t it? I know you felt it just now, whatever it was. Just turn around, please. Look at me.”

Her feet have no will of their own as she slowly shifts to face him. Agony is written in her eyes, and she has not the strength to hide it. His own expression, when at last she beholds him in her sight, is naked confusion and something she can’t name. Her hood drops away from her face, leaving her exposed to his scrutiny. She licks her parched lips, trying to find any words that could possibly be enough between them.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Her voice is hoarse and raspy. “I’m sorry.”

Ardbert takes a step closer, his brow furrowing. “Sorry? For what?” 

“I--” 

A sudden wave of exhaustion nearly knocks her off her feet. A bone-deep weariness settles in her like a stone, bearing her down to the ground. Too much, it’s all too much, when all she wants to do is cry. Her ears catch the sound of dirt gravel crunching beneath boots approaching her as the world spins, and she falls into darkness as the ground rushes up to meet her.

Ardbert watches her as she sleeps, sitting on the edge of the inn room bed as she lays curled on her side where he’d laid her some two hours before after her collapse. It’s a familiar feeling, as though he’s done this before, standing guard by her side until her waking hours return. He thinks of the look on her face as he’d confronted her, such anguish in her eyes that pierced to the heart of him. He remembers her burden, what once was his, and feels guilty. 

As he wonders what has befallen her since that day in the Dying Gasp, an unruly finger rises to brush the bangs from her face. His hand lingers overlong, content to caress the soft skin of her brow. She stirs beneath his touch, sighing into wakefulness as her eyes grudgingly open. He does not withdraw, hesitating as her groggy gaze meets his.

“Ardbert?” Her voice is quiet, almost timid.

He makes a noise of confirmation, and she lets out a long breath. Alannah looks at him then, her uncanny green eyes making him dizzy. There is a long moment of silence between them as they memorize the other’s features, drinking in all that they have missed in their separation.

“Are you alright?” he murmurs, feeling oddly protective of a woman whose deeds and power are unrivaled. 

Her face crumples, as though she is about to cry. He knows just how much it costs her to answer with a tiny “no.” She buries her face into the pillow, great sobs wracking her body as her hands clench and unclench in the blankets. Before she can curl into herself, Ardbert pulls her against him, wrapping his arms around her tight and murmuring words of comfort into her hair. 

They lay like this for a long time, until she is drained of her tears. 

She slumps against him, with no will or energy to move. Her breathing eventually evens out, her body shuddering one last time. “I tried to stay away,” she confesses, “but I keep coming back. I had to know that you were okay. And…” she pauses, a knot of fear in her throat. “I missed you,” she whispers, hiding her face again.

He frowns and gently pries her away from his chest. “Why would you stay away? Shouldn’t a hero have free reign to visit the world she’s saved?” 

He sees the bitterness in her face for the first time as she answers. “You should have a free life. One far away from me and all the horror I bring with me, and all the things you left behind. Me being here...just seeing me brought back your memories of all of that. In my selfishness, I’ve ruined the life you deserve. Because I couldn’t stay away.”

It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, with lips pursed and brow furrowed. 

“A life with you in it could never be ruined,” he tells her softly. “I would rather have you here, and know all the evil of the world, than live in ignorance without you.”

She gazes at him, stricken, as though not daring to believe. A war within her rages on her face as she absorbs his words, torn between what she knows and what he offers. 

Ardbert smiles, a tinge of sadness touching his expression as he runs a hand through her hair. “You have saved everything I have ever held dear, and did what I could not.”  At this she stringently objects, shaking her head violently. “You saved me,” she says in a broken voice, tears returning to her eyes. 

He has no words for what he wants to tell her, so he brings his fingertips to her face, tenderly swiping away her stray tears. They trail from her brow to her cheeks, descending to her chin as he tilts his head toward hers. 

The first touch of their lips is tentative and slow, a gentle press as his hand slips between the strands of her hair to support her neck. A light sparks between them, ebullient in its brilliance, a radiant reminder of Her blessing that they share. A brief pause for breath, then the kiss becomes something more. He is pressing her down, the warmth of him surrounding her, a homecoming that she has not felt in years.

Moments pass, or hours, neither of them know. She forgets her name, her titles, the weight of the world. All are distant stars in the sky as she lays in his arms. 

She touches him too, tracing the line of his jaw and the landscape of his chest. There cannot be enough kisses between them. Soft kisses, long kisses, passionate and devouring. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” she confesses as they shed their clothing, hungry for closeness. 

He breathes against her neck, as uncertain as she is, only knowing that every cell in his body begs to be closer, closer. Easing himself into his elbows above her, he smiles at her reassuringly, leaving a chaste kiss on her lips. “If you tell me to stop, I will.” 

She nods her head nervously, already winding her limbs around his. A sweet ache builds and builds in her chest as he moves in her, ‘til it brings her near to tears. “I…” Mere words are not enough for this moment, unneeded as their souls rejoice. 

“Stay with me,” she gasps, undone and unraveling. “Please, please stay.” 

His lips curve against her collar, nipping at her skin. Ardbert raises his head to look at her, heat piercing him at the sight of her tangled hair and wild eyes. He kisses her again before rolling onto his back, bringing her with him. As she lays on his chest, panting for breath, he presses one palm to her hip and the other to her face. 

“As long as you will have me, Warrior of Light,” he kisses her forehead, “I will be at your side.”

[hunter-the-sad-skeleton]

never made the cut [I'm slightly concerned but fuck it]

(Self Insert Selfship Time! Tw: self harm, suicide attempt, depression, self hatred, self destruction, self deprecating, eating problems, suicide ideation, suicidal thoughts, anxiety, self starvation, negative thoughts, cutting, insecurity, peer pressure, relationship anxiety, feelings of worthlessness, ect. Note That This Is A Vent Selfship Fanfic, So It Gets DARK. If ANY Of These Warnings Are Something You’re Sensitive About, Don’t Risk Your Mental Health! I Just Needed To Get Some Feelings Out Here! I Don’t Do Any Of The Things Mentioned Here, So Don’t Worry About Me! With The Warnings Out Of The Way, Let’s Go To The Angst!)

“ALRIGHT OWLS, LET’S TAKE IT STRRRAIGHT FROM THE TOP!!!” Conductor instructed. “Oh, and uh, Stolas, was it? STAY OUT OF SCENE UNTIL I TELL YER TA COME IN SCENE THIS TIME!!!!” The Conductor yelled. Hunter tapped him on the shoulder and gestured that he was going to the restroom. “Arright, Lad...! Ya know where it is...!” The Conductor whispered. Hunter nodded, speeding off. The Conductor chuckled as he hurried off. He DID have a habit of putting off going to the bathroom until it was almost too late...! “HEY!!!! STOLAS!!! I SAW YE POKE YER HEAD OUT!!! IT’S NOT SCENE 69 YET SO GET OUTTA HERE!!!” The Conductor yelled.

Hunter shakily walked into the bathroom, small backpack slung over his shoulders. He picked a stall and locked himself in, sitting down in front of the toilet. He quietly opened his backpack, pulling out a small pocket knife. Hunter took a deep breath, ignoring how shaky his hand was. He always got shaky with this, but not to this degree. In the back of his head, he heard the voice coming back. “Do it, ya know ya wanna.” Every time he tried ignoring it, it got louder. He eventually couldn’t fight back anymore and gave in.

Grooves padded into the restroom, having just taken a break from shooting. He was...somewhat happy with his current script, but sadly it was too late to change it. As he went to go into one of the stalls, he saw something pooling near the door of the stall next to him. He thought it was just water, then the smell hit. His breath hitched; had someone gotten hurt? He steeled himself, knocking gently. “Hello? Is someone in there? Are-Are ya hurt?” Grooves asked gently. He didn’t get a response. His eyebrows furrowed in worry. No response, that’s not good. Grooves knocked again, harder this time. “Darlin’, if you’re hurt, I can go get help.” Grooves said calmly. Still no response. Great. Now he was INSANELY worried. He remembered the stall; the large one at the back. He went to grab assistance from the receptionist to open the stall.

“Hello? Little Chirper? Can ya unlock the door for us please? DJ Grooves is worried about ya.” The receptionist called. No response. “I can’t reach over. besides, climbing over is a liability.” The receptionist sighed. The Conductor walked in, jumping in surprise that the bathroom was this busy.

“Toilet trouble?” He asked. Grooves shook his head.

“Someone’s locked themselves in and we can’t get their attention. They seem to be hurt.” Grooves explained. The Conductor’s breath hitched. Hunter never came back from the bathroom.

“Move.” The Conductor breathed shakily.

“What?” Grooves asked, confused.

“I SAID MOVE!!” Conductor said, getting a running start from the back of the room. Grooves and the receptionist yelped in surprise, pressing themselves against the other stalls to get out of the way. As the Conductor’s foot made contact with the stall door, it flew off the hinges, smashing against the wall with a crash. The Conductor got up and looked around, gaze landing on the front of the toilet. “Oh....this cannae be happening....” The Conductor gasped. Grooves and the receptionist poked in.

“What’s the matter, Conductor, Darling?” Grooves asked.

“Me bag.” The Conductor croaked out. Grooves was confused.

“What?” Grooves asked.

“Go, and grab me bag!!!!” The Conductor snapped. Grooves jumped.

“Darling, is everything okay?”

“GROOVES, GO GRAB ME BAG NOW, A LIFE IS ON THE LINE HERE!!!!” The Conductor yelled. Grooves jumped, nodding and hurrying off. The Conductor hugged Hunter closely, humming a tune.

“Hush now little one, it’s okay....~! Keep on breathing, it’s just another day....~! I’m here to keep the bad dreams at bay....~! The monsters under the bed aren’t here to stay....~! I’m here, I’ll always be near....~! There’s nothing to fear....~! To me heart, you’re very dear...~! In me sky, you’re the sun, stars, and moon....~! For you to stay with me, I’d ask for no other boon...~! Call for me, I’ll be there soon...~! I know that our hearts beat in tune....~!” The Conductor hummed softly, rocking back and forth, hugging Hunter.

Grooves raced around the owl express, searching for the Conductor’s bag. “U-Um, hello?” An express owl called.

“Oh! Hello! I’m just looking for the Conductor’s bag, you haven’t seen it anywhere, have you?” Grooves asked.

“Wh-Why?” The owl asked.

“It’s an emergency, darlin’.” Grooves explained. The owl saw the concern through his glasses and took him to the bag.

The Conductor started worrying as time passed. “Come on, Grooves...where are ya, ya peckneck.....” The Conductor winced. He looked down, seeing how deep Hunter went. There was so much blood...there was SO. MUCH. BLOOD. He would HAVE to call an ambulance if Grooves didn’t hurry his duff up. Grooves returned as swiftly as he could with the bag.

“Here, Darlin’.” Grooves said handing it over.

“Thank you, Grooves.” The Conductor said, pulling out some gauze and medical tape, starting to bandage up Hunter’s arms.

“Is he...?” Grooves asked nervously.

The Conductor dropped the tape, making sure he got everywhere. “Receptionist, call an EMT, we have an emergency here. He’s lost too much and he cannae stay awake for very long periods of time.” The Conductor ordered. The receptionist was shocked. “Well?! Get moving!!” The Conductor snapped.

“Right away!” The Receptionist said, speeding off. The Conductor rubbed Hunter’s head, hoping to wake him up.

“C...Conductor...? Why....Why are you here...?” Hunter choked.

Conductor smiled weakly. “I heard there was a party in here, so I decided to join the fun.” He said, attempting to lighten the mood. Hunter looked him over.

“Oh no....your poor shirt and tie....!” Hunter lamented.

“What, these old things? Please, I can just wash them when I get home.” The Conductor smiled. Hunter frowned, eyes drooping. “Lad, no, don’t black out on me again!” The Conductor begged. Hunter’s breathing seemed to be more ragged, more harsh. He was visibly struggling to stay awake.

“I’m sorry......the voices-they wouldn’t stop.....” Hunter coughed.

The Conductor hushed Hunter. “Save it lad, ye need to save yer energy. Just stay awake fer me, alright lad?” The Conductor pleaded.

“I’m so tired, Conductor...I’m so tired of hurting…” Hunter wheezed. The Conductor’s gaze softened, hoping to relax Hunter.

“Aye, I know, lad, but ye just got ter hold on a wee bit longer, alright?” The Conductor asked, holding his hand. Hunter coughed and The Conductor winced at the harsh sound.

“I’m...so sorry...I’m so sorry I slipped….” Hunter apologized. The Conductor frowned.

“Lad, stop with this apologetic nonsense. You’re nae at fault. If anyone in this room is at fault, it’s me. I shouldae come here to check on yer after the first hour passed.” The Conductor scolded.

Hunter shook himself awake, vision starting to blur again. “I just wanna sleep...” Hunter whimpered. 

“Not yet, lad...Please...Hold on...” The Conductor pleaded.

“You look so blurry...I....” Hunter started before blacking out.

“LAD!!!!” The Conductor yelped. Medics rushed in, taking Hunter out to an ambulance, The Conductor following inside to keep Hunter company on the ride to the hospital. “It’s gonna be okay lad...I promise...!”

(Timeskip a few days.)

Hunter woke up, arms sore and barely able to feel his hands. When he looked at them, they were tightly wrapped in medical tape, stained red. Seems that they weren’t replaced. What happened though....?

“Lad! Yer okay!” The Conductor beamed. 

“Heya bud...! What happened exactly...?” Hunter asked.

“Ye slipped again, but we got to ye in time!” The Conductor explained. Hunter looked at his arms in disappointment.

“........Dammit.” Hunter cursed.

“Lad, it’s okay...! We all slip sometimes...! What matters is that we got to ye in time to prevent anything worse from happening...!” The Conductor comforted.

“I was clean for almost a month this time, Conductor!!! I was SO CLOSE!!” Hunter snapped.

“Lad, it’s okay, we’re in the here, we’re in the now, all that matters is that you’re okay...!” The Conductor stressed.

“ But I-” Hunter started.

“I wouldn’t recommend fighting him on this, Darlin’.” Hunter looked at the doorway. Grooves visited..! “You’ll only lose~!” Grooves teased.

“Grooves...? What’re ya doin’ here...?” Hunter asked.

“Visitin’ a close friend of course~! He’s a super cool guy who’s super good at animating~! His name begins with ‘H’ and rhymes with punter~!” Grooves teased.

“Oh shut up, Groovypants...!” Hunter chuffed. Grooves ruffled Hunter’s hair, earning a squeak of disapproval. 

“Still calling me Groovypants, huh, Darlin’? I guess I can still call ya ‘Little Bro’ then, huh?” Grooves joked. 

“Not little, not your brother..!” Hunter peeped.

“Well, you’re five foot three, I’m five foot six, you’re smaller than me, so you’re little~!” Grooves beamed.

“How’s everyone been holdin’ up without me?” Hunter asked.

“Darlin’, everyone’s been down in the dumps without ya! Even good ol’ Conductor~!” Grooves grinned. The Conductor’s face heated up to a bright orange.

“Well-I mean...” The Conductor stammered, all knowledge of the english language failing him.

“Really...?” Hunter asked.

Grooves nodded, grin growing wider. “This whole time with ya in here has just been him bein’ all like,” Grooves cleared his throat. “ ‘I cannae wait until me Hunter returns, this workplace is garish and borin’ without ‘im!!’ “ Grooves said, putting on his best Conductor voice.

“He said that...?” Hunter blushed.

“Well, that’s a bit exaggerating...!” The Conductor stuttered.

“Darlin’, he loves ya! He can’t wait for ya to recover and come back to work!” Grooves beamed.

The Conductor’s face was a bright orange. “Grooves!!!” He blurted out.

“Get well soon, darlin’! We all miss ya!” Grooves said. “Conductor darlin’, everyone said it’s okay if ya can’t make it to the shoot today, they understand that you’re not quite in the right mindset to work right now!” Grooves informed.

“Thanks, lad...” The Conductor sighed.

Grooves smiled, waving before walking out.

“So, ya missed me, huh?” Hunter smiled.

The Conductor’s face somehow heated up more and his ears flopped down. “N-Now wait a minute-” 

“Conductor, it’s fine! It’s...Actually really sweet!” Hunter smiled.

“Well....Ye do have this...Positive air to ye...” The Conductor stammered.

“Awww~!” Hunter teased.

“Shut up, lad...!” The Conductor “rolled his eyes”

“Also bud, guess what~!” Hunter grinned.

“What?” The Conductor asked.

“Ya just talked with DJ Grooves and never ONCE called him a peckneck~! You’re goin’ soft~!” Hunter teased.“WELL I NEVER!!!! HE’S A NO GOOD PECKNECK!!! HE’S A FILTHY PECKNECK OF A MOON PENGUIN IS WHAT HE IS!!! HE’S A COWARD!!! HE’S A SAD EXCUSE FOR A MOVIE DIRECTOR!!!” The Conductor jabbed.

“Conductor...” Hunter sighed, shaking his head. As The Conductor continued ranting, Hunter tapped him on the shoulder.

“What?” He pipped. Hunter stole his hat, holding it just out of his reach. “HEY!!” He squawked. Hunter laughed, dangling it just out of his reach.

“What’s wrong bud~? Just grab it~!” Hunter teased.

“I’M TRYING!!” He pipped, reaching as far as he could. Hunter laughed as he was barely brushing his fingers against the brim of the cap. In a last stitch effort, he pecked a quick smooch to Hunter’s cheek, shocking him at the sudden gesture and freezing him long enough for him to steal his hat back. “That’s what ye get, ye handsome devil!” He peeped. Hunter’s face was covered with a bright blue blush. The Conductor laughed at his reaction. Hunter was starstruck. His crush liked him back?!? And SMOOCHED him?!? Good thing he was in the hospital, cause he could pass out due to heart failure any second now!! “Lad? Lad? Lad, are ye okay? Did I overstep me boundaries?” The Conductor asked, worried at Hunter spacing out.

Hunter shook his head. “I’m fine, Conductor!” He said, knowing full well that he was indeed, not fine in the SLIGHTEST.

[the-socially-awkward-cat]

Azrael (Draconian boy ) xGabriela (Human girl)

Gabriela knew things were not good between them. But she didn't wanted to believe he will choose today to broke with her.

He said the typical "I need space, i'm confused... we almost not have time for us" . She knew it was bulshit, she knew he will probably ran in the arms of a girl a lot prettier than her and probably a lot more empty brained. He avoided her like the plague in the last months and he looked every day better (More gym, more expensive clothes, you name it). Gaby ended alone in the park, with her heart broken, trying to calm her anger . `I guess at least i can go for a drink`  . She walked into a bar and sat, decided to buy the biggest sugar coated smoothie they had.... and put some vodka on it maybe.

Azrael's head was spinning. He thought a job working as a bartender would be more glamorous than it had turned out to be in his first week. Instead of learning to elegantly craft fancy cocktails he had been forced to haul heavy kegs of beer from the cellar and to dodge crowds of rowdy drunks as best he could while running trays of food and drink to tables the senior barkeeps did not want to bother with. Today he even was sent to break up a fight that was starting up between two belligerent customers arguing over a game of darts. Thankfully Ozzie's unique appearance usually helped with things like this. Throwing himself between the two patrons, the draconian flared his wings out so they could not get to each other and roared for them to behave themselves.... unfortunately his wings knocked into a nearby table, accidentally sending a brightly-colored frozen drink flying into the lovely young lady who had ordered it some minutes ago and spilling it all over her top.

"Oh God! I'm so sorry miss!" He stammered, swearing that the pale blue scales on his face were blushing red as he offered her a towel and prayed that it would not leave a stain.

Gaby froze when she felt the thing in almost slow motion staining all her top shirt. `Oh great... something else can went bad today?... Please Gaby don't be the shitty customer that yells at the waiter... dont...` . Gaby felt the hot tears filling her eyes , her face twisted in sadness and let herself cry like an idiot .

Oh no! He had made her cry! Panicking, Ozzie desperately tried to help the distraught woman clean her shirt, all the while apologizing again and again and cursing himself for being clumsy. When it became obvious that no amount of paper towels or washcloths would save her top, Azrael had a thought. "Miss, please let me make this up to you. We have a small washing machine in the back for our uniforms. Let me get you another drink and I will lend you my shirt while yours is cleaned" He offered hopefully.

"Its okay.... Its not... Thank you" she said between sobs . She tried to compose herself, at least someone was beginning kind to her today . She followed him .

Leading her through the crowd, he took the pretty young woman to the employee lockers in the back of the house, shooting the head bartender a warning look and narrowing his eyes when she made a joking comment about him moving fast already getting a girl out of her clothes.

"Please don't mind her. Maricela has a terrible sense of humor." He said, trying to keep a very lovely image out of his head and stop his tail from unwinding from around his waist and wagging at the mental image.

Once they were in the break room Ozzie offered the girl his spare shirt from his locker, a button-down white oxford that would likely be long enough to double as a short dress on her before stepping out to let her switch clothes. "I'm Azrael, by the way. Ozzie to my friends." He called over his shoulder.

"Ozzie... Im Gaby" she said and changed, handle him the dirty top . "Sorry for crying... i just had an horrible day, not your fault really "

"Nice to meet you Gaby." He replied with a self-conscious smile, trying to hide the pointed teeth he had inherited from his mother. "If you want, I am happy to listen to your story. Sharing your sadness with a sympathetic ear can sometimes make it better, after all."

While he was talking Azrael tossed Gaby's shirt into what was supposed to be an empty washer and closed the lid to start the machine up.

"Would you like a drink or something to eat while you wait?" He offered, smiling for her again in spite of himself.

"Well .... okay" she came for that anyway. Maybe talking (and crying) was the best to feel better . Ordering a new strawberry milk smoothie and siping from time to time, she told him about his day . "... And Im im pretty sure he is with another girl in this instant, i'm not stupid"

He brought her a replacement drink and sat with her on the sofa in the breakroom while Gaby told her story, growing visibly more angry as she got to the part where her boyfriend as good as left her for another woman until a thin trail of smoke started trailing up from his mouth through clenched teeth. "Absolutely unforgivable! He must either be blind, an idiot, or both if he could even think of another woman when he has someone as wonderful as you!" He said vehemently, the tip of his tail smacking against the ground in anger as he spoke.

" Ozzie... you are fine? you are gonna turn the fire alarm ... " she felt amused , he was too sweet for someone so scary at first sight "Thank you , you are too sweet..."

Realizing that he was smoking, Azrael quickly took a glass of water and drank it down to stop the smoke, looking down and running one hand idly along his horns in embarrassment. "Sorry, a bad habit from my mother. I promise not to start any fires." He said with what he hoped was a playful wink. "No, thank you for talking to me even after a less than ideal introduction Gaby."

"You mom its draconian too? I think you are the first draconian i have meet " she smiled at his wink . `Too cute and im such a mess.... `

"Oh no, she's a full dragon. Wings, breathes fire, giant pile of gold and jewels, the whole shebang." Azrael laughed. "Dad always joked that he liked her better than the princess he was supposed to save." He added, rolling his bright gold eyes at the memory of his dad's bad jokes from when he was a kid.

"Whoa, a knight and a dragon... that's a story to tell ! " her mind tried to take her to cri again but she fighted it . Screw mister perfect she waved her troughs away.

"A knight? Oh no, he's a history professor at the local university." Ozzie laughed. "Maybe-" He was cut off by the buzzer signaling the end of the wash cycle.

"Oh, there is. !" she lamented don't have more excuse to talk the draconian man. He had to work anyway .....

"Ah, there it is." Azrael echoed, not able to completely hide his disappointment at losing his excuse to talk to Gaby. "Hopefully the stain didn't set in." He thought aloud, reaching into the washer and pulling out a deep wine red tablecloth... wait...

"Oh no no no no no!" Ozzie cursed under his breath, looking in and seeing that whoever was supposed to hang the linens they used for the tables had left them in the machine the night before and now Gaby's shirt was completely dyed a bright pink!

"Oh God! I'm so sorry Gaby! I am such an idiot for not looking!" He cursed himself, hanging g his head I. shame. He just couldn't stop messing up! Now he was bound to have made a lovely lady cry again.

Gaby looked at the man and the now pink top .... and she couldn't help laugh. it was a good laugh, she had to hold her belly "Oh god, Ozzie" she laughed again "Don't worry .... " she breath deep "You made me laugh , that's more that i can ask " she said to the mortified draconian.

If he could have, he would have curled into a ball and disappeared, but at least Gaby was laughing. A smile was so much nicer on her than tears. "At the very least let me take you shopping for a replacement." He offered hopefully. "Maybe tomorrow afternoon?"

"Oh, you don't have to... you have been too kind.... " she thinked "Well, only if i can invite you something later." She took her phone and passed it to him "And that's not discussable . Save your number! "

"Whatever you want. I'm yours... er... at your service." He stammered, smiling doubly as he keyed in his phone number and handed it back to her before offering her his to do the same. "Does noon sound alright?"

"Im freelancer , i can fix my schedule no problem " she smiled "Thank you Ozzie. i will give you back this tomorrow" she grabbed her things and the now pink shirt. She gave him a quick peek on the cheek "Thanks for cheering me up ! You are a great guy "

"It's a date!"

Ozzie spent the rest of the night smiling from ear to ear, not even minding the jokes he had to endure at the hands of the other employees. As far as he cared tomorrow couldn't get here fast enough! .

To be continue....

[cake-of-awesome]

i think the worst part and ultimate downfall of this depression-anxiety cocktail my brain’s concocted is how it’s convinced me that isolation is my only solution because all of my problems are so completely unique and unusual that “no one would ever understand” BUT! they’re also totally insignificant and talking about them to anyone would be a huge waste of time and energy for all parties involved, since everyone else has their own issues, me complaining about whats going on with me would just be why bother

this is probably one of my biggest vices.

i’ve never been good about talking about problems verbally. always was quiet in school. usually would save my opinions unless asked for any clubs or events going on. i mean, even back when i was first diagnosed with cancer i remember my parents lamenting that i should have said something right away during all those times i would almost pass out from walking up the stairs during school hours. instead of just continuing on like i did for a month and a half but speaking up and saying somethings wrong is so hard

which would explain why finding a therapist has been so hard and why ive been having anxiety attacks more frequently during those days too

learning to unlearn these habits will take a long time im guessing. i can only hope that the therapist anxiety will go away with time as i normalize making appointments and that eventually things settle into a routine of seeing one therapist at such and such hours and dates. all i can really do right now is just focus on settling with a therapist i feel comfortable with to talk to. (which of course is hard to feel comfortable when having anxiety attacks but w/e) in the mean time i’ve been talking a lot of walks. the weather’s been pretty nice when its not raining. idk why but the walks have been helping. maybe its the sun or the fresh air or just.. being with green trees and bushes? for some reason it helps calm me down. reminds me that even if my problems are unique things will continue on. yet at the same time reminds me of how everythings connected

i was listening to this one science podcast that was talking about a break through in the study of trees and how tree roots are covered in this thin hair like fungus. apparently tree roots arent very good at getting minerals out of the soil and its the fungus that actually does all the heavy lifting when it comes to getting nutrients for the trees. and in exchange the trees trade their glucose sugars as a trade off. these fungus threads are super long too and often theres a network that spans out from tree to tree like a wood wide web. and that the networks can be so interconnected when one tree dies off, the sugars and nutrients it was collected can be transferred to other nearby trees by these fungus lines

when i learned about it i kind of felt... comforted? i mean plants dont really have feelings, or at least not that we know of but... its comforting to know that even trees and plants and forests have a support network like that. like they have their own version of a community. and in times when one tree might be attacked by an invasive bug they have their own way of alerting other trees and warning them to prepare for the worst

like everything’s connected i tiny ways. and that todays problems may be bad now but they wont last forever. there are trees that live well past 50 years old. and i can do that too.

even though i dont feel much of anything right now, and thinking about the future is like looking at static on a screen. knowing that there are trees that are 150 years old being connected by tiny fungus threads to baby pine trees that were planted just this year its... nice to think about. if nothing else

we all have our problems. but reaching out and supporting one another is what helps us get past them and towards the future i guess. i shouldnt feel guilty about getting help. instead i should be doing the same when im in a better place and see another needs a helping hand too.

[simplymorganunedited-blog]

Facing the Attic Part Three.

A Preface: 

I’ve hit an impasse.

I’ve hit an impasse with this blog. 

A collision, between this blog and my brain. 

I’ve sat down and tried to write this last post for the past four days. I watched the last three videos in the Reid Wilson series a few days ago; took my notes, reflected, but was too hesitant to compose a blog post about it. 

Why? 

It wasn't going to be good enough. 

Sadly, this is true. 

I wish it wasn't. 

Real Talk: It really does make me sad. 

I have been hesitant to write, because I have become aware that people read what I’m writing. I don't know how many, or if they like it, or if they only do it because they’re bored. The point, however, is that people read my writing. 

This causes a bit of an issue for my “Perfection-Orientated-YOU-MUST-BE-GOOD-ENOUGH” brain. 

Hence, the fact that I haven't posted much lately. 

I guess I’m just scared. I’m scared that I’ll come across as boring, or needy, or like a victim. 

I know how much my mom (and my dad) hate the victim thing. 

I hate it too. 

I get really nervous about the way my posts are written. I feel like they need to be graceful, elegant, eloquent. Or, they should be abstract and raw, almost hard to follow, but leading to a deeper inner truth. 

Talk about a lot of self-pressure. 

Real Talk: It’s sapped the joy, and release out of blogging for me. 

Instead of feeling peaceful, I just feel scared. 

I edit obsessively; rework, rethink, rewrite. I am constantly aware of an audience, and worry about what they will think, how they will react, whether my words are deep enough, dark enough, heartbreaking enough. 

Enough. 

I really struggle with the word enough. 

But that is a mental battle for another day. 

I digress.

That’s bullsh*t. 

Sorry folks, whoever you are. This is for me. I keep forgetting this is for me. 

Chronic People Pleaser. 

Habits really are hard to break, aren't they? 

Return to Reid (Sounds Clever Right?):

Homework: Watch Reid Wilson’s series, “Tolerating the Discomfort.” 

Episode 3, 4, and 5. 

I wasn't going to write this post. 

I didn't feel like I had anything real enough to say, or that my words weren't going to be soulful or introspective enough. I reflected on the videos, but they were more like class notes, “how-tos”, rather than earthshattering conclusions about myself. 

Not enough. Not enough. Not enough. 

I wasn't going to write this post. 

I know a lot of people struggling with anxiety. 

That’s why I’m going to write this post. 

This is going to be down and dirty. To the point. I’ve tried to think of a way to do it more “beautifully,” but am at a loss. 

I don't like this. 

Morgan’s Brain doesn't like this. 

But, I guess this whole series of posts has been about conquering anxiety. 

Practice makes (im)perfect. 

Right? 

Episode 3: 

“Nerves are obvious to everyone.” 

Cheesy Skit #3. Susan (our anxiety sufferer) is on a plane, nervous to fly. Susan thinks everyone knows she’s nervous. Susan thinks she has a sign over her head, bright yellow and flashing, that says “SUSAN IS NERVOUS. LET’S ALL LAUGH AT SUSAN.” 

I relate to Susan. 

I relate to Susan on a spiritual level. 

This is me at the gym.

This is me at the grocery store. 

This is me at the mall, picking out clothes. 

This is me any place that is connected to anything to do with fitness, body image, or outward perception. 

This is me any place to do with food. 

That ever present fear, looming over my head. 

Thunder cloud, 

“Move away from the content.” 

“Get off the topic of your worries.” 

“Do the opposite of what anxiety wants and needs?” 

“Go TOWARDS the stuff that scares you.” 

There’s the sign again. The new sign. 

 Blinking lightbulbs, yellow beams. Weakly wondering. 

HOW????

I try to think.

A list of things that scare me. 

Cupcakes. 

Eating out. 

The mirror. 

Being honest. 

Going to England. 

Not going to England. 

Him. 

The gym. 

Not going to the gym. 

Coconut milk. 

Throwing up. 

Not throwing up.

My brain. 

Picture Santa’s list, those old cartoons. The list that spirals, down from the desk, around the room. Santa always looks so happy, looking at the list. 

Again. 

HOW??? 

I feel terrified of the list. My list. Santa’s list seems much more fun. 

I digress. 

My list. 

I feel so immobilized. 

I can’t picture doing any of those things. Let alone seeking out the discomfort of doing anything on that list. It seems too big, too daunting; looming over me, making me feel small. 

A fleet of thunder clouds. 

Should I start with little things? 

Is going to yoga a good thing to start with? 

It’s certainly not as bad as cupcakes, as crazy as that sounds. 

“I want to feel scared,” Susan says. 

“Literally why the f*ck Susan?”

Questions. Spoken out loud.

Step One: Instruction. 

Finally. 

I could have hugged Susan. I could have run over and kissed her almost, the second the words “Step One” came out of her mouth. 

Finally. 

A formula. 

Step One: Instruction. 

Give yourself a direction. Be firm. 

Step 2: Motivator. 

Something to reinforce the instruction. An inner pep-talk 

Positive self talk. Give yourself back control. 

Positive self talk. 

Who knew? 

“Note how you’re feeling.” 

“Are you more or less anxious?”

Less. Because I have steps. 

“Make your inner voice louder.” 

Note for Morgan: Your inner voice is NOT Morgan’s Brain. 

Episode 4: 

“Externalize your worries.” 

The word “personify”. 

Is this Morgan’s Brain? 

I think so. 

Real Talk: It helps. 

It helps. Being able to picture her, her sneering face, the haughty grin. Being able to picture the attic, my own personal hell. It helps. Not just my Dad, or my family, or anyone who has no clue in hell how an eating disorder works.

It helps.

It helps me. 

It makes is less scary. It makes it a real monster; something to battle, something to be conquered. It makes it tangible. It’s so much easier to say, “I’m trying to put the monster back in the attic,” than it is to silently scream “I own brain is trying to kill me and I don't know what to do.” 

“Pushing away the worries may make the feelings stronger.”

I don't really know what to do with this yet. 

If ignoring the worry doesn't work, “give me more.” 

Again. 

“Literally why the f*ck Susan?” 

Again. 

Said out loud. 

“You have options.” 

Don't reply. 

My dad always told me what to do with bullies, or with him, when he’d tease me at breakfast. 

“Just ignore it. They’re just trying to get a rise out of you. If you ignore them, they’ll get bored and go away.” 

Karen Jenkin isn't the only smart one in my family. 

Episode 5: 

A summary. 

Step One: Seek It Out. 

Find a situation that actually scares you. 

Maybe yoga? 

I’ll let you know.

Step 2: Move Towards It.

Step 3: Acknowledge It. 

Acknowledge “doubt, distress, discomfort.” 

Yikes.

Step 4: Welcome It. 

I’m not entirely sure what Susan wants from me on this one, but I’m thinking this is the “notice it, but don't fixate on it” part of the whole thing.

Step 5: Talk to Yourself. 

This is the “Instruction/Motivation” process. AKA Morgan’s favourite part. 

Step 6: Go Back to the Task. 

If you manage to, you win. 

“What do I win?” 

Susan made me cry. 

I spent all five episodes lamenting the cheesiness of the dialogue; the painful interaction between Susan and her anxiety. 

Until this. 

The words. 

“What do I win?”

The words. 

“That means something.” 

The words. 

“This is what I signed up for.” 

Recovery. 

I signed up for recovery. 

The words. 

“I want to do this.” 

Susan wants to drive on the highway. 

Morgan wants to eat a cupcake.

Morgan wants to live. 

“I win my life back.” 

Well said Susan.