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aparrotandaqrow · 3 years

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Hineni

I went to shul for Rosh Hashanah services earlier this week. It was my first time being physically present at shul in 18 months; I was home to finally visit my family. I hadn’t thought I would go to services, since they would be in person, and with the delta variant surging, I didn’t think it would be safe. My dad was slated to lead Musaf services, though, and I dreaded the tension it would bring to have him go to services, in person, on Rosh Hashanah, one of our holiest days, while I stayed home out of a conviction that going would be unsafe. In the end, my father did not lead services, and services were moved outdoors, due to my father needing kidney stones removed (he’s okay) and his replacement urging for safer, outdoor services. We both went, and enjoyed services together for the first time in almost two years.

The rabbis (we have two) both spoke during their sermons on the respective days of the importance of the word “Hineni”--”Here I am.” It’s a word that shows up several times in the Torah, and is the title of a prayer chanted by the person who leads Musaf during High Holy Day services. In the Torah, it is a response to a question, “Ayeka?”--“Where are you?” The prayer is also an answer--as if to say, here I stand before you, in my entirety, hoping to lead my congregation in prayer and repentance. I hope it’s good enough.

In the Torah, God asks Adam, after he has eaten the fruit, “Ayeka?” Adam does not answer, and instead hides. But Abraham, Jacob, and Moses all respond “Hineni” when God calls out to them. The prophet Isaiah declares that when the people turn to deeds of justice to repent for their sins, rather than meaningless self-flagellation, then when the people cry out to God for relief, God too will respond, “Hineni.”

“Hineni” is meant to be an expression of readiness, and of humility before the task. A reassurance that we are present, and committed to help.

When Abraham responds, “Hineni,” it is at the end of a long list of difficult crises, including the banishment of his son Ishmael and his mother, Hagar. The sages, the rabbi pointed out, teach that Abraham did not say “Hineni” with the vim and vigor of someone eager to go into battle, eager to leap into the task. He said it almost reflexively, as easily as a breath. He was present, and simply being present for God’s next task was his default state of being.

The other rabbi spoke about how climate change is a task that calls for us to say, “Hineni.” We may cry out to God in the face of such adversities that climate change will bring, "Ayeka?" But God might respond, "Hineni; ayeka?"

"I am here, but where are you?"

We must be present, we must each see our own role in the fight, and commit to facing it, rather than turning away from the task. Not a single one of us will solve the problem, and most of us won’t live to see it solved, but we can’t desist.

Rabbi Tamar, speaking on the second day, spoke about the pandemic. And how sometimes it feels like each day we have to say, “Hineni,” and keep going. One more day, after well over 500, after hardship upon hardship. One day more. Hineni.

I think this is something many of us Jews perhaps understood innately, and which gets to the root of my confusion and bewilderment at the behavior of many of my non-Jewish peers. Jews know suffering. As the Christians were screaming about Easter gatherings in April 2020, we Jews shook our heads, remembering our Passover Seders held over Zoom, which we had done without question so that we might save ourselves, our relatives, and our neighbors. So many people give up, decide the pandemic is over, and let their guard down. And then cases rise once more. So many people rail and scream against the prospect of another lockdown, insist it’s not fair, and refuse to wear their masks or socially distance.

They’re not wrong, either. None of it is fair. All of it sucks.

But, hineni. Living is struggling, but here I am. Here we are. One more day. Sometimes, this is simply the way of things. All we can do is be present for the immediate task before us, no matter how many tasks we have already been asked to complete. We don’t get to choose to not live a life of suffering; that is merely the hand we are dealt. But we accept it and we move on. We keep fighting. We survive. Hineni.

Some people view each day of the pandemic as a temporary inconvenience, a day stolen from their promised lives of plenty, which will need to be repaid.

I simply view each day as living. This is my life now, until the world changes and it isn’t. Until then, I simply live. My people suffered for millennia; why should my life be any different--so hineni. Here I am.

Every day, when I put on my mask, I perform the ritual. I take the steps that through the magic of science and public health, will protect myself, my loved ones, and the strangers around me.

Hineni. Here I am.

It is both an inhalation, the breath you take before lifting the heavy box, and an exhalation, the sigh of resignation as you go back inside for yet another box.

Hineni.

It is breathing.

Here I am.

When I log in to Zoom for Saturday morning services with my shul, each face staring at me through a small square on the screen, each of us apart, and together only through the internet--Hineni. Here I am.

As I walk the 10 kilometers to my bubblemate’s apartment, so neither of us has to be alone, and later as I walk the 10 kilometers home, each step taking me further away from my past, from the previous month, week, minute of isolation and pandemic hardship--Hineni. Here I am.

I trudge through the snow in the weak light of the setting winter sun, the sun and the snow my only companions for months, my bubblemate thankfully home with her family. A trail of footprints stretches behind me in the empty park, like words of Torah inscribed on parchment.

Each step--hineni.

I am here. I will not vanish, I will not shy from the task at hand. Hineni.

I take another step.

I type the words of my PhD dissertation, my mind and soul crushed by over half a year alone, but determined to finish the work of the past 6 years. My fish swim behind me in the home office I have constructed for myself. Hineni.

My feet pad softly across the concrete in the early morning, a long walk to a long-awaited destination. The nurse plunges the needle into my deltoid muscle, and I exhale through the momentary pain. Hineni. I thank her for being present with me, 14 kilometers and 14 months from home, and now one shot closer to returning. Hineni.

News of the delta variant grows, and Ontario pauses the reopening. The vaccines alone will not end the pandemic, and my trip home will not be the grand reunion I had anticipated.

I put my mask on as I leave, again, like each day before. Hineni.

The pandemic goes on, and so do I. Hineni.

This is what I could not understand, and also what those who screamed, and complained, and refused did not understand.

Each day I perform the rituals. I say the words, and take the steps that one day will end the pandemic. Hineni.

But they do not perform the rituals. They don’t know they’re supposed to say the words. They have been told what to do, but what they were told has changed, and they don’t understand. And I did not know that they do not understand.

When I say, “Hineni,” this is not a language they understand. They don’t know what it means to simply resolve yourself to yet another day, yet another week, another month, another year. To say, “Hineni.”

To not give up.

I thought Minnesotans would understand more than others; that our familiarity with storms would guide us. We know how to hunker down when the sirens go off, to go someplace safe and bow our heads until the storm has passed.

But storms never last; they are temporary. Now, Minnesotans shop at Target without their masks, as daily cases hit levels not seen in Toronto since the worst of the winter surges.

Perhaps if they knew that sometimes, all you can do is perform the ritual, and say the words. To wear your mask, and get your vaccine. To stay home with your loved ones. To say, “I am here. I am present.”

And hope that it will be enough.

That next year will be better.

Hineni.

#jumblr #rosh hashanah #covid 19 #pandemic #judaism

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amarabliss · 5 years

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Oaths and Hearts - 11 (Ignis Scientia/Reader)

So this is a crossover between FFXV and Dragon Age Inquisition.

You fell through a rift into the fade fighting the demons you swore to protect your world from. When you popped out you were no longer in the lands of Ferelden instead trapped in Insomnia. The gracious king allowed you to say recognizing power when he saw it. One thing led to another and now you were part of the procession of the prince to his wedding years later. Before the final battle, after years of fighting, losses, and love…your friend…your king…Noctis has asked you to change it all…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

You sat with your eyes closed against the steel of the airship. You didn’t like it. Flying that is…there was no connection to anything, and it made you feel off balance.

You focused on feeling the cold steel imagining it was earth…perhaps a mountain…you had traveled enough of them in the last few months to remember how the cool stone felt at night. It helped a little…but turbulence was a cruel bitch…

“Dammit…” You muttered wiping a hand over your face before opening your eyes.

“You know…mediation works better when you’re calm.” Your eyes snapped up at the white-haired man sitting across from you. He stared back unapologetically.

“Fuck. You.” You growled at him.

“Language…you call yourself a lady…” Ravus smirked as he pulled out an apple, something that had been making your stomach churn daily, and took a big juicy bite out of it.

You stood to your feet clenching your fists at your sides as you opened your mouth to speak, however, you didn’t get the chance to as Aranea stepped, “Alright…calm down. One lightening storm was enough in this rig. Ravus, take yourself and the fruit to the cockpit.”

“Happily…” He stood up taking another obnoxious bite.

You growled again stepping toward him, but Aranea stepped in your path, “Let it go…”

“He does it on purpose!” You snapped at her, “He knows exactly how I feel about the smell!”

“I know, and I will talk to him, but I can’t have you blowing a gasket when we’re 20,000 feet in the air again.” She told you sympathetically, “And it’s not good for you or you baby to get so worked up.”

You clenched your jaw a hand went reflexively to your belly. Six months pregnant…almost…you had been on the run for four months and you were losing count between getting sick and moving around so much. Never staying in one place for too long for fear of being noticed.

Four months of small check ins from the man you loved. No conversations, just account transfers to take care of you, while he helped Noct get the rest of the royal armory and blessings of gods. You felt so alone among soldiers who only wanted to protect you for the profit it gave them…mostly.

You took a deep breath trying to relax, “…please tell me we can call him, even just a word…”

Aranea frowned shaking her head, “No…they’re supposed to be reaching the capitol in the next week or so. They had to take a few pit stops along the way…I wouldn’t want to risk alerting the empire to their location, when they are this close.”

“I’m sick of waiting around…” You shut your eyes making a face a wave of pain erupted in your back, “There has to be something to do.”

“What is it?” The Commodore stepped closer to you concern evident in her posture.

“He’s kicking a lot today…I don’t think he likes being this high up.” You leaned against the wall making a face.

“You should sit…I’ll get Wedge to come take a look at you and we’ll figure out where we can land…” Aranea told you as she stepped away, “I’ll get you some tea too…”

“No! No tea! Your tea is…gross…” You called after her as you stepped toward the chairs.

You made a face taking a deep breath as you stopped halfway shutting your eyes tightly putting a hand on your side, “Dammit…buddy come on…you gotta give me a break.”

“Give me your hand…” You opened your eyes seeing Ravus holding a hand out to you.

“Why would I give my hand to you?” You took a deep breath in through your nose as another wave of kicking ensued.

He stared at you for a moment before stepping toward you. You stepped out of his way only to see him follow you. You glared and then tensed as his hand found your back as he scolded, “Quit…dancing around and let me help you.”

“Ravus…you have never once offered to help me…” You stared up into his eyes standing firmly in your spot as Ulric began kick boxing with your kidney, “And despite you volunteering to be an escort because you feel you owe me in someway for helping your sister…we aren’t friends…”

“No, we’re not, but…” He sighed helping you over to the chairs, “I remember when my mother was pregnant with Luna. She would have the most painful expressions sometimes, when Luna started to kick. I promised if I ever had a child, I would make sure the mother would not be alone during such times…”

“This is not your child…” You eased yourself down before you looked at him taking a seat next to you.

“No…” He shook his head a little before he hesitantly began rubbing your back with his one hand. Warmth spread through tense and sore areas, you had forgotten how good touch felt, “but I don’t see myself ever having the chance…so I will amend my promise to the situation at hand to alleviate you of your pain.”

You shut your eyes hanging your head a little as his one hand moved up to your shoulders, “I…I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“Don’t be…” Ravus shook his head smiling a little, “All my life people have made assumptions about me. Shouldn’t expect anything different from you.”

You laughed a little letting your eyes meet his, “I know what that’s like.”

“I find that hard to believe. You have an air about you that yells ‘straightforward.’” He sniped back at you.

“Quite the opposite…Where I’m from everyone expected me to be a deranged mage hell-bent on world domination, raging and bringing forth demons to destroy everything.” You looked at him frowning as a heavy weight fell on your shoulders. You had always felt like you left Thedas vulnerable by leaving it, “But…the reality of it…I just wanted to be free…I just wanted to there to be peace, and I sacrificed everything to make sure the world was safe.”

Ravus stared at you a long time before he spoke again, “The burden of leadership.”

“Yes…it was…in the end, I don’t even know if I made a difference…there was still so much dissent against people like me.” You stared off as if trying to remember it all at once, “But I know that I left my home in good hands. I know they won’t let it fall back into the way things were.”

He stopped rubbing your shoulders letting out a sigh, “Sounds like you’ve done more then any of us here.”

You let out a sad laugh, “Oh you know just a small rebellion turned into saving the world...just an average day back home…”

“Maybe one day you can tell me more about it? Hell, maybe you can help me lead a rebellion of my own. I wouldn’t mind not being railroaded by the empire anymore.” He stood up as Wedge came over with Aranea, “If you’ll excuse me.”

You watched him walk away slowly as Wedge began asking you questions. The cogs began turning in your head. It was so simple, and it could actually work. Wedge cleared you and began putting his devices back into his medical bag away.

“…Aranea…” You stood up looking at her, “How easy is it for you to find someone?”

“Depends on the person, but I usually can find anyone with a few calls.” She eyed you carefully, “I already know where your boy toy is…and I already told-”

“I don’t want to find Ignis.” Your face hardened as you crossed your arms, “I want to find Cor Leonis.”

Her eyes narrowed on you, “Why do you want to find the Immortal?”

“I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines…” You told her before you smiled, “I need to help Ignis and Noct somehow, and I think I just figured out how.”

You sat on at a table a few days later looking out toward the meteor, no longer ignited, but still a sight to behold. This place was something else. You could not think of any other like it. No matter what was going on, Lestallum felt alive.

And hot…You hated that you had to wear this giant thick cape to hide yourself, rather…hide your baby…

“Lady Trevelyan?” You looked back seeing Cor walking up to you. He smiled when you stood up taking your extended hand, “I thought you would be with the boys. When I got your message, I half expected them to be here.”

“Yeah, no, um…” You swallowed staring at him. The way he held himself told you that he wasn’t informed on the recent events. A soldier of his caliber wouldn’t be so relaxed, “I take it you haven’t heard about the bounty on my head…”

“Bounty? On you?” He waved his arm to have you sit down again as his demeanor changed. There was the commander you knew, “But you’re unreasonably nice to people.”

“Where have you been recently? For that matter the last half a year?” You watched him sit down, “At least tell me you know everything went sideways in Altissia?”

“It’s a long story…” He sighed scratching the back of his head, “And I had heard that Noctis and Luna did get married…I was sorry I couldn’t attend.”

“Well, if you tell me your story…I’ll tell you mine.” You grunted as you threw the front of the cape over your shoulders to give you some relief. His eyes immediately focused in on your stomach, “I’ll get to him in a minute, tell me what you’ve been up to?”

You sat and listened and everything he said was exactly what you needed to hear. After he left Caem he returned to the hunters where he met up with some former Glaive. After hearing their stories he felt it was imperative that they find as many Glaive and Crownsguard as he could to be ready for their king’s return.

“So I have been managing them. Training new recruits and protecting people along the away.” Cor watched as you pulled the spoon from your mouth returning it to the large bowl of ice cream, “We’re ready to return and take back our home when Noctis orders it.”

“That is wonderful to hear.” You smiled at him before shoving the spoon in your mouth again.

He smiled shaking his head a little, “So…you’re turn. Why is there a bounty on your head?”

“Oh, I shoved the chancellor of Neifilheim into a rift hopefully to never return again. He was a deamon and creepy…” You rattled off scraping the bottom of the bowl, “Then…there’s some stuff about time travel, it gets really complicated, but the main thing is I killed Ardyn Izunia.”

He stared at you a long time before clearing his throat, “That’s…Uh…”

“Hard to believe, I know, but it’s the truth. I’m sure you’ve heard rumors at least of my sudden appearance back then...” You told him quietly, “All of which I’m happy to explain to you, but I’m hoping we can do it at a different time.”

“Alright. You called me for a reason.” He nodded leaning forward, “What is it you want from me?”

You set the bowl down looking into his blue determined eyes, “I want to take back Insomnia.”

“We all do.” He chuckled sitting back.

“I want to take it back now.” You watched as his face went blank, “If we do it, we divide their attention. Maybe enough to give the boys time to get the crystal and get out of the empire…”

“…forgive me your ladyship, but…there are at least a thousand strong in the city of Insomnia that are soldiers…that doesn’t include the MTs or their machinery.” Cor leaned forward again looking around, “I’m not saying it can’t be done, but…it will be awfully hard.”

“That’s why I’ve come to you.” You told him quietly, “I’ve experience with this type of thing as well…maybe together we can figure this out. The Immortal and the Inquisitor.”

He stared at you again before shaking his head, “You sure have a brass pair.”

“I’m protective of my family…and I’m tired of being apart from them.” You swallowed looking away as fleeting thoughts of Ignis floated through your mind.

“Okay…I’m in…” He nodded slowly, “I’m sure everyone will be onboard.”

You cleared your throat, “Good…reach out to Aranea and we’ll get things rolling.”

“Now hold on…” He watched you stand up, “You told me why you have a bounty on your head and why you called me…but you never explained…your condition.”

You smiled at him putting a hand on your belly, “Does it really matter?”

“Call it curiosity.” He smirked up to you. It was no wonder why everyone in the citadel swooned over him with that charm.

“Well…it’s not all the exciting. It happened the normal way when a man and woman…” You watched him roll his eyes and you laughed a little. It was nice to do so. You’d been around so many stiff people the last few months it was nice to tease again.

“Who’s the father, is the question I’m begging you to answer…” He stared up at you as you adjusted the cape again to cover yourself.

“…Ignis.” You watched as his posture changed and his face became very serious, “Cor…what’s wrong?”

“You’re sure Ignis is the father?” He stood up speaking in a hushed tone.

“What do you take me for?” You glared at him a little, “Of course I’m sure it’s Ignis…”

“You’re coming with me.” He began looking around as if he was on a detail.

“Cor, what is going on?” You pulled your arm back when he tried to take it.

He looked into your eyes as he spoke quietly, “Your child is currently second in line for the throne of Lucis.”

“No…how?” You took a step away from him as a sinking feeling seeped into your shoulders.

“Ignis…” Cor stepped with you suddenly becoming extremely overprotective of his charge in front of him, “is Noct’s older, half-brother.”

Your eyes widened as you suddenly became very light head, “…wha…”

He caught you as began to fall helping you back to the table you had been sitting at, “Take a second…”

“Does he know? Do they all know?” You stared into his eyes as mild panic began to set in.

“No.” He shook his head taking your hands in his, “No one knows. Regis only told Clarus and myself. The information would have passed to Gladio and I’m certain Noct and Ignis when the time deemed it…necessary.”

“Necessary…why? How?” You suddenly began to feel sick, “This…why?”

“Regis and Aulea were having trouble conceiving a child. They worried enough that…” He sighed hanging his head, “That they invoked an old tradition where they ask their closest retainers…to bear a child of Lucian line.”

“Regis…and Ignis’ mother….” You frowned a little, “Oh my god…”

“It sounds bad…but it was considered an honor and with the medical advances we have now it’s much less intimate and more a duty…” Cor looked at you sympathetically, “It was close to Ignis’ first birthday when Aulea reported that she was pregnant. Regis knew what it meant. He had two heirs. Regis waited until Aulea was sure the pregnancy took then reached out the Scientias… At which point Roderick Scientia, Ignis’ father, vowed to raise Ignis as his own and everyone was sworn to never speak of it unless it was necessary.”

“And what makes it necessary now? Noct is fine…he’s going to be king…He and Luna…” You rambled quickly as you began hyperventilating.

“It’s only fine if they have a child…one day Noct will have to fulfill his duty as the chosen. He knows what that means.” Cor spoke realistically, “If there is no direct heir from him…the responsibility will fall to Ignis…to your child.”

He put his hands on your arms giving you a squeeze to try and help calm you down. “Y/N, I’m going to protect you and your child, but I’m not sure we can risk…”

“No.” You shook your head as a tear fell down your face. Finding out your child was heir to the throne was overwhelming, but it didn’t change what needed to be done, “No…we have to go to Insomnia. We have to help them…so they can come home.”

Cor let out a long heavy sigh before he stood up holding his hand out to you, “Then I suppose you’ll have to meet your soldiers. Think your crew can give me ride?”

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cela-astral-projection · 5 years

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My one true broken heart, pieces inside of me and you And you'll forever, my baby be.

You will rest your head, your strength wants saving. And when you wake you will fly away, Holding tight to the legs of all your angels. Goodbye, my love, into your blue, blue eyes, Your blue, blue world, you're my baby blue. Confess I'm not quite ready to be left. Still, I know I gave my level best. You give, you give, to this I can attest You made me, you made me. You and me forever, baby.

It was a pretty little trinket — a carved egg. Fragile. Precious. Truly a work of art.

A gift.

It was meant for Asra and Muriel. A symbol of new life. Hidden away these last few weeks while she had gathered the courage to tell them that she was expecting.

It symbolized something else now. Celeste held it between her fingers, twisting it — light flowing through the tiny holes. Hollow. A dead thing. All form and no function.

Celeste sat on the small back balcony of the shop, in the late afternoon sun. The smell of wisteria wafting on the breeze. The day was too perfect. Too beautiful.

---

She had been so grateful that Nazali had been in town. An impartial third party. A friend, but one that had no stake in her pregnancy. The exam had been brief, confirming what Celeste already knew.

They were in the new palace clinic — Valdemar's reclaimed lab. As bright and modern as it was, by comparison to what it once had been, it still felt appropriate — the specter of death hanging in the air.

They had sat together in silence for a long while after Celeste had redressed— Celeste on the examination table. Nazali, on a stool in front of her.

Celeste spoke first. "Humor me. What do you think happened?"

Nazali took a deep intake of breath. "I think sometimes they take...and sometimes they don't. If I had to speculate based on your history? Could be that your body is still settling into itself."

Celeste shook her head, pressing her tongue into her cheek, making a noise of annoyance. She couldn't disagree with that assessment. "What do I do?"

Nazali gave her a sad smile. "Try again when you're ready. That's about all you can do."

Celeste gave a bitter laugh. "I've said that to so many women...I always knew it wasn't much comfort. But...fuck. Fucking hell." She gave a short exhale of breath, staring past Nazali. "I don't know what to do with myself."

Nazali stood and took Celeste's hands, finding her gaze. "You do. You know exactly how this is going to go. It's going to suck. You're going to be pissed off. And then you're going to be miserable. You're always going to be just a little bit sad." They paused, searching for the right thing to say. "But...you go on. You start over. There will be better days than this."

Celeste gave Their hands a squeeze, nodding. Somehow it didn't feel like platitudes, coming from a fellow healer.

"The only thing I'm concerned about...you haven't told Asra or Muriel. Correct?" Nazali tilted their head, imploring.

"No, I...had a whole plan. I was just waiting for the right time." Celeste shrugged, defeated. "Best laid plans and all that."

Nazali winced. "I think it'd be better coming from you, but...I can break the news. If it's easier on you?"

"Oh," Celeste said, eyes going wide. "I don't think...I don't think I can tell them."

"I think you probably should." Nazali countered, Their eyebrow raised. "I generally trust your judgment. However, If things go awry, you need someone looking out for you. But, more importantly, you shouldn't have to do this on your own. They're grown. They can handle it."

Celeste sighed. "I don't know...Asra spent years protecting me from the pain of knowledge. And I haven't ever really recovered from learning what happened. Maybe if I can spare them...I mean, we're all already fucked up. I don't think I can put this on them. I'd rather do it alone. I can handle it. I think."

Nazali shook their head. "I'm not going to argue with you. You're a nurse. I know better than to try." They said, resigned. "But you have to let me tell Doc you're sick. And you need to stay at the shop instead of going back into the woods. Muriel can come to you."

"I'd really rather you didn't get Julian involved." Celeste protested.

"He doesn't need to know specifics, but I'm not going to budge on this."

"You don't think he'll figure it out?" Celeste said, irritable.

Nazali fixed her with a dubious look, eyebrow raised. "You think he will? You know him as well as I do. He's brilliant, but he's also Julian. He didn't connect the dots the past two months you've spent gagging at the smell of his morning coffee. I think you're in the clear. You're his blindspot."

She couldn't dispute that. Celeste suspected Julian was going to catch her out before she got the chance to tell him, but he never did. Though, she suspected it was willful ignorance. He did not want to grasp the concept.

Celeste considered, unbidden, that if he did know, that this miscarriage might be a relief to him. She shook her head, banishing the thought.

Celeste nodded her acquiescence, too tired to fight.

"If it doesn't come away on its own, I'll come and take care of it," Nazali said, an air of finality. "Come on. I'll call a carriage and take you back into the city."

The pair started out of the clinic room, towards the staircase. Celeste paused and grabbed Nazali's arm.

"I need you to ask your sister for a favor. When this is over, I need her to do something for me." Celeste implored.

Nazali searched Celeste's face, confused. Celeste watched as Their expression changed, realizing what she was asking for. Celeste's eyes were steely, resolved.

Nazali nodded their assent, even though they felt their heart drop to do so. ---

"So, Nazali tells me we're going with kidney stones."

Julian's voice pulled her from her reverie, and she turned in her seat to face him, laying the fragile egg in its box.

His arms were crossed over his chest. His voice was calm, but Celeste caught the tinge of disappointment.

"They told you?" Celeste's face fell, equal parts panicked and frustrated.

"Oh, no. I..." Julian backpedaled, "I knew. I just..." He crossed over to her, crouching at her side, taking her hands. His eye was wide and worried. So, very sad. "I wanted to let you tell me when you were ready."

Celeste's head dropped to her chest, and she drew a trembling breath. She felt guilty for thinking she could have hidden it from him. For doubting him.

"Oh, Lovely. I am so sorry." He said, his voice low and sweet, bringing a gloved hand to her cheek.

She nodded, bringing her hand up to cover his. And, for the first time since she had seen blood on the sheets that morning, she broke down.

Julian wiped her tears away with his thumb, but he knew better than to try and stop them. There was nothing to do for this pain. He could only be with her now. Keep her secret. Be her friend.

She bit her lip, silent tears streaming down her face. There were no words. Regret. Pain. Anger.

"I used to be able to take your pain from you," he said, his voice breaking. "I can't fix this. I'm so sorry."

Celeste shook her head. "Oh, Doc," she said, her heart breaking anew. She dropped her hand and moved her arms out to embrace him. Julian took her by the arms and drew her up, pulling her into his chest.

"I wish you would have come to me." He whispered into the top of her head. "You can always come to me, Lovely. Always."

She wept into his chest. His hand at the back of her head, the other around her waist, holding her close.

After a long while, once she had settled a bit, she backed away, looking up at him. Julian bent and kissed her forehead.

"I have to get it together..." she said, trying to regulate her breathing. "Asra will be back soon. I can't.."

Julian made a noise of recognition. "Nazali gave me the basics when I told them that I knew. I can't say I agree with your choice, but it's your choice. All the same, if it were our..." he trailed off, his gaze imploring. "I'd want to know. That's all."

Celeste's face fell. She couldn't bring herself to be angry with him. There would always be a history with Julian. There would always be a "could have been." But, she knew that he wasn't interceding on his own behalf. He was speaking on behalf of Asra and Muriel.

"I don't know that I'm making the right choice, Julian. But...I don't know how to tell them. I don't know if it's selfish or if it's some kind of misplaced nobility. Something you should know all about. But...right now, I can't make a good judgment call on this."

He nodded. "I stand with you, no matter what. You know that."

"I do. And I'm sorry I didn't come to you first. I just...I hoped that there was something to salvage. That there would be a happy ending. That I was wrong."

"Oh, Love." Julian sighed. "There's a happy ending. This isn't the end. There will be babies. I don't care if I have to steal one for you. We're going to get through this day together. I'm going to take care of you, Lovely. I swear it." He gripped her upper arms, seeking out her eyes.

She gave him a weak smile, her hands at his elbows. "Thank you, Doc."

---

Asra found Julian sitting outside the washroom in the shop. Long legs bent, his back against the door, exposed eye closed.

He stood over Julian, eyebrow raised. Julian made a noise of acknowledgment but didn't open his eyes.

"Where's Celeste?" Asra implored, confused.

"In the bath," Julian replied. "She's in pain...sometimes the hot water helps."

"I have plenty of stuff for pain. She knows where all of that is..." Asra stammered.

Julian opened his eyes and sighed up at Asra. "She's taken the meds. They aren't really touching it."

Asra furrowed his brow, and stepped forward, trying to get around Julian. Julian didn't budge, bracing himself against the doorframe. "She asked to be alone. It's...a little undignified."

Asra snorted. "We have lived together for more than ten years, Julian. I don't think this is anything new. I have seen her in pain before. I have seen her in the bath before."

Celeste sat in the warm water, eyes closed, wincing as her womb contracted painfully. "Asra, please..." she called out. "Just...Listen to Julian. I just want to be left alone for a while."

Julian gave Asra a "told you so" look, unmoving. "If you would, she could use some tea. If I recall correctly, she likes raspberry leaf. Well sugared."

Asra lifted an eyebrow. "She likes orange pekoe." He called through the door. "Sweetheart?"

"Raspberry leaf, please," she called back.

Julian's expression remained unchanged.

Asra tilted his head, thoroughly bewildered. "Raspberry leaf it is, I suppose."

He moved away to prepare the tea, shaking his head. He looked over his shoulder. Julian's head had fallen back against the door. He knew that look.

Heartbreak.

It was late into the night, and Julian had barricaded himself in the bathroom with Celeste. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, sitting in the empty bathtub, covered by just a towel. Cold, and empty. No more tears left to fall.

It was over. Julian had tidied everything away and cleaned her up. He was kneeling at the side of the tub, stroking his hand up and down her back.

His eyes fell on his doctor's bag, sitting at the foot of the tub. It's contents unrecognizable and yet incredibly precious. Impossibly tiny.

"I'm going to get you to bed. And then I'll take..." His words faltered.

"...him." Celeste whispered.

Julian nodded. "Do you have a name, Lovely?" he asked, gentle. He knew this woman through and through. Of course, she had a name.

"Aric." She said plainly. That was the only name she had ever had from the moment she knew she was pregnant. Her son.

"It's a great name." He leaned in and kissed her temple, his eyes burning. "I'm going to take little Aric, and...I'll make sure he's taken care of until you're well enough for us to find a resting place."

Celeste shook her head. Not in disagreement, but at the idea of letting him go. "How do I do this, Julian?" she asked.

"I don't know, Lovely. I don't. But...you will. You're so strong. We'll figure it out."

---

Julian came to the bottom of the stairs and found Asra, sitting by firelight. Asra fixed him with a hard stare, but he could see the whites of his eyes bloodshot and watery.

"Raspberry leaf." Asra choked.

Julian nodded, feeling his eyes burn. "There wasn't anything to be done."

Asra brought his arms up, his hands at the back of his head, drawing a ragged breath. "Why..." He asked, lip shaking. "...didn't she tell me? Tell us?"

Julian shook his head. "She was going to. He just...slipped away before she could."

"He?" Asra said, his voice trembling.

"That's what Celeste thinks. It's...difficult to tell." Julian replied. "I'm so sorry, Asra. I don't know what to say."

"What do I do, Julian? Do I tell her? Do I tell Muriel?"

"No. That's...I shouldn't even be telling you this now. If you didn't already know, I wouldn't be saying anything. She wanted to save you from this. Both of you. And, me. She didn't come to me. She went to Nazali."

Asra dropped his arms, and his head fell to his chest. He swore under his breath.

Julian crossed the room, coming to stand in front of Asra. "I have her in bed. You need to go and lie down with her. Just treat her like she's sick. Because she is. Her body is confused, and she's still going to be in pain for days."

Asra scoffed. He didn't need to be told how to take care of Celeste. He'd done it many times before.

Julian reached down and touched Asra's shoulder with one hand, his other arm clutching the bag. "I'm going to take care of this. I will be back tomorrow. I assume that Muriel will be here then?"

Asra nodded. "If I'd known, I would have brought him back with me. Maybe I should have...I don't..."

"Maybe it's the wrong time to say so, but Muriel is not exactly great in a crisis. I have zero doubt he would have pulled the bathroom door off the hinges to get to her. And that's not going to serve her." Julian replied. He gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Take a moment. I would personally recommend a stiff drink. I can get one for you if you don't have one. Go up there. Take care of her. You know what to do. I will be just a few steps away if you need me."

Asra lifted his face and met Julian's sympathetic gaze.

"I...I'll be okay. Thank you for being here. I'm sorry I was short with you."

Julian shook his head. "No need for sorry. I...would have reacted similarly. If I were in your place."

"All the same," Asra said, bringing his hand up to rest over Julian's. "Thank you."

---

Asra found Celeste in bed. Rolling a white orb between her fingers. Her eyes were red, and she was sniffling. She didn't acknowledge him, transfixed by the object she held. He crossed the room and climbed into bed with her, raising his hand to the item.

Celeste relinquished it to him. She snuggled into Asra's side, her head on his shoulder.

"A chicken egg?" he asked.

She made a noise of affirmation. "I had it made...a few weeks ago." She sighed. "I hate it now."

"Oh?" Asra said. "I think it's lovely." He carefully turned and laid it on the bedside table. "Maybe you'll like it more when you start feeling better."

She snorted. "I doubt it."

Asra wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pressed his lips to her forehead. "How do you feel, My Heart?" he whispered.

Celeste sighed. Any answer she would give would be a lie. There weren't words for this. "Terrible." was the best she could manage.

"Can I get anything for you?" he asked. "Anything at all. Just...let me help. Please, let me help you."

She shook her head. Too tired to cry. Too tired to think. "Just...stay with me. I need you to stay."

Asra swallowed hard, his eyes stinging. "Of course," he said, his voice wavering. "I'm with you, Cela. I've got you."

#fanfiction #fanfic #apprentice oc #apprentice celeste #celeste #asra alnazar #asra x apprentice #oc #mc #tw: pregnancy #tw: miscarriage #the arcana #arcana #oc apprentice #julian devorak #nazali satrinava

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doeeyeddarlingxo · 5 years

Text

Myriad Misadventures - Chapter 41

The Myriad Misadventures of a Midgardian Queen-In-Training - Chapter 41

AO3 | Previous | Next

Word Count: 1136

Pairing: Loki/Reader

Rating: T

Myriad Misadventures - Chapter 41

The five of you arrive back home to find Dad relaxing in the living room. both Mom and Carlie.

“Had a nice mall excursion?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s nice.” Dad tries to keep his tone light, his eyes held stiff on the newspaper in front of him. It doesn’t work. He’s been on edge since you returned, like he doesn't want to let you out of his sight for even a second. Which is a nice sentiment, but a bit annoying in practice. He seems older, too. More tired. With the money you’re sending home from being in the competition, your family has never been better off, but Dad, Mom, even Erik all seem perpetually tired and haggard. From worry, you suppose. You make a mental note to write them more often when you go back to the palace in two weeks.

That is, if you’re still on speaking terms in two weeks.

Don’t be ridiculous. They’re not going to stop talking to me just because you got off to a rocky start. At least, that’s what you hope. You still have to make an effort to smooth things over now, unless you want the next two weeks to pass like a kidney stone.

Might as well start with the person who’s the least mad at you (at least, as far as you know).

*********************************************

“Knock knock.”

“Come in.”

Carlie’s room has been repainted since you were last here, from dark green to hot pink. Part of the growing process, you suppose, but it takes you by surprise. You shake it off. “Can we talk?”

She nods, wordless. You take it as an invitation to sit besides her on the bed, where she’s lying down.

“I’m sorry that Mom and I haven’t been getting along very well,” you start.

“It’s okay.” You can tell by the repeated thwack of her little cleats against the headboard that it is decidedly not okay. But you don’t leap to defend yourself; instead, you wait until she speaks again. “I don’t think Mom is trying to be mean to you.”

“No, no, of course not! She’s just…” Worried? Stressed? Horrified? “I think it’s…” hard for her to see her teenage daughter falling for a semi-tyrannical, eons-old, otherworldly being? “I think it’s hard for her, is all.”

“She just misses you. So do Dad and Erik. You’ve been gone long time.” You hear the note of frustration in her voice. It stings a bit, as well-deserved as it may be.

“Did you miss me?”

“Yeah. A lot.” She gets quieter, her cheek smushed into the pink fluff of the pillow. It matches the rest of the room, which used to be nothing but soccer posters and forest green trappings. The soccer poster have made it through the redecorating, you note. These kinds of things tend to go in circles with Carlie, you notice’ no doubt when you come back to visit again in another two years she’ll be back in another tomboy phase, or have gone off in a new direction entirely.

In another two years? Where did that thought come from? You hope The Choosing will be over by then. Kinda. Since coming home, your feelings about...all of that have shifted on a second-to-second basis. You thought you would love being home—but now you can’t think of anything but how homesick you feel for the palace. You’d spent the last two years wishing you had more time with your family—but now that you’re actually here, you can’t spend ten minutes together without a fight, or a snarky comment, or even just a strong sense of awkwardness. Of disbelonging.

Carlie rolls over to face you, her eyes suddenly alight, interrupting your train of thought. “But it’s easier for me, I think, because I’m excited for you.”

“Excited?”

She rolls her eyes. “Dug. All the girls in my class are so jealous that I have a sister who’s an actual, real-life princess. Because that means I’m a princess, too.”

You smile, your heart breaking a bit as you take in your glitzy pink surroundings and realize that Carlie’s room makeover might be partly due to missing her “princess” big sister. “You don’t need me to be a princess, silly. You’re a princess already, all on your own.”

Another eye roll. Were you this sassy at age ten? You can’t remember. “I know. But they’re also jealous of you getting to be in the competition.”

“Jealous of me?”

“Because it’s romantic.” She says it very matter-of-factly, before casually lobbing the next question at you. “Have you guys kissed yet?”

“Carly!”

“What? Aren’t you supposed to be figuring out if you want to marry him?”

Does she really still believe that?

She takes in the shock on your face, and quickly adds, “I know Mom doesn’t think so. And Dad and Erik and stuff. I don’t know why. But I think that you wouldn’t still be there if you didn’t like each other at least a little.”

“I…” You fix your gaze on the closet door, unable to meet her eyes for a moment. “I don’t really have a good response for that.”

She shrugs. “That’s fine. You don’t have to say it for me to see it.”

“Okay, Little Miss Know-It-All.” You give her a nudge and a look. “When did you get so smart, huh?”

She looks down, away from you. “When you were away,” she mumbles, more to herself than to you.

Your heart sinks. “Hey.” You put a tentative hand on her shoulder, relieved when she doesn’t pull away. “I’m sorry I’ve been away so long. I won’t let that much time pass before seeing you again, okay?”

“Okay.” She sniffs, smiling up at you with teary eyes. “Promise?”

“Promise.” You extend a pinky, hooking it around hers. “For the record, nobody’s kissed anybody. He just sees me as a friend.”

“Mom says you have to be friends with someone before you can really fall in love with them…”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see.” Even We’ll see feels like a dangerous thing to say, to think. Before talking to Carlie, you hadn’t quite allowed yourself to entertain the policy of a We’ll see. It’s amazing how freeing it can feel to have a judgement-free conversation with a ten-year-old. Speaking of judgement… “Don’t tell Mom yet, okay?”

“Okay. Can I go have dinner now?”

“Of course.” You ruffle her hair as she hops off the bed; she swats your hand away, but you can see she’s smiling too. She leaves the door ajar on her way out, and your stomach drops when you see who is standing just behind it.

“Hi, Mom. Is dinner done?”

“On the table.” She waits for Carlie to make it down the hallway before turning back to face you, her arms folded across her chest. “We need to talk.”

#loki #loki x reader #loki/reader #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #doeeyeddarling #myriad misadventures #fish fork

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dj-yukio · 5 years

Text

Regular Day

Part 2 of Faction 63: HUNT

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19102432/chapters/45631711#workskin

By the time the boss gets to the table, it’s evident to all present to the meeting that she did not have a good night. The boss’ yellow eyes seem to lack lustre, her hair is in a frenzy in comparison to her usually neat hairstyle, and she’s still in pyjamas, with one slipper on, the other barefooted. To add to that observation, it seemed as though that Kurotsuno herself hadn’t even noticed that she looks like a mess in the morning, but no one mentions the wardrobe malfunction as she sits down at the head of the table and reaches out for the list that is in the hands of their communications manager, Met.

Of course no one mentions it. This is how their boss looks like almost everyday.

“Mm... let’s see...” Her eyes squint as she reads the contents of the list. Once she seems to gets the general idea, she rattles off the commands. “Met, the phones, take down the orders and compile them. Get their address this time, we don’t want a repeat of last time. Bis, Reina, body management as usual. Expect a large quantity because someone ordered fifty human sets today. I’ll be meeting with RIDE to discuss the transportation. And Hanten, I need you to work overtime again.”

“Again?” The snark in Hanten’s voice isn’t lost on Kurotsuno, who proceeds to glare at her. “What for?”

Of all the people in the room, it was said that only Hanten was capable of rivalling Kurotsuno’s authority. Despite being the right hand of their boss, they might as well have been on the same level of influence in their faction. That was evident in how the boss and right hand stared at each other before Kurotsuno eventually backed down and pushed her fingers against her temples.

“Firstly, I need you to deliver the goods here, all fifty of them. As per normal. Secondly, I need you to accompany me to F35. It’s going to be a long day whether we like it or not.”

A grunt of dissatisfaction, but Kurotsuno would gladly take that over more complaints. Honestly, she doesn’t even blame her for those complaints. The week has been busy, more so on Hanten’s side as she needs to do her job with no witnesses. It’s not easy trying to catch every single one and lug them around, which actually makes her job harder than most would expect. Come to think of it, the last time she managed to do her job quickly was thanks to the fact that she found out a few apartments were hosting sleepovers, but even that resulted in someone falling out of the window and attracting attention, and Hanten barely managed to take all the corpses before more people were to storm the building. In contrast, she had been having an endless number of meetings, with the occasional battle of wills and mindsets, to which her right hand still has to drag herself out to accompany her even if she’s not participating in the dialogue.

A voice pulls her out of her thoughts. “But anyway, why the sudden spike?” All eyes turned to Bis who folded her arms in response. “I mean, fifty in a day is a bit excessive. That’s a load of sets to deal with. Who ordered them?”

Met shuffled the papers in her hands before tapping at something on the folder. “Another world, actually! Ooh, I haven’t gotten someone from there onto my show before, but I heard that they were real upset when the peace treaty got signed.”

“I thought they banned-bannedthis because they wanted peace?” Bis looks understandably confused, after all, it’s not in the hands of the youth to understand what goes on in the minds of odd adults. “What’s with all the rule breaking? It’s not just two worlds with the issue, it’s almost all of them.”

Silence follows. Definitely, at the back of most of their minds, they know the answer. The whole thing was a facade, and the people in power don’t exactly want to give up on having those customs, and those not in positions refuse to let go of historical baggages.

It’s Reina that lifts the atmosphere back up. “Regardless, if they never had this issue, we wouldn’t be here profiting from it.” Then a thought strikes her, and a frown forms. “Actually, why is human meat banned? Our faction... we deal with angels, demons and other species, but mainly humans. Aren’t only the gods and devils in charge of all this?”

“Oh! The leader in Mogeko Castle changed, and they human, so... yeah.” Met gives a weak shrug in response before looking at the two demons. “Think it was that girl we saw the other time, Yonaka, was it-“

Kurotsuno slams the documents down, the otehr hand rubbing her eyes.

“Enough. We’ve already discussed the basics of our duties, so let’s get on with it. Maybe we can rest early. Maybe. End of meeting.”

“Shouldn’t it be ‘meeting adjo-‘“

“Meeting end. Now move, before it’s not just the meetings that end.”

Met nods quickly before scampering off, and the two yokai follow behind. The grumpy demon yawns before getting up, picking up her jacket which she had set on the chair prior to the meeting before heading to the door when a hand grabs onto her arm.

“Hanten, while you’re out, I need a coffee, preferably before the meeting.”

She blinks, before a small grin appears on her face. “A coffee? Sure you don’t want tea or chocolate or something else?”

Kurotsuno pinches her nose before glaring at her best friend for knowing her too damn well. “Whatever. The usual.”

She can almost taste the air of cockiness when Hanten shrugs. “Ah, the usual. Got it. Would you like me to repeat the order to make sure I get it right?”

“...no.”

——————————

Information is vital, especially regarding news of how hard law enforcement intends to crackdown on the underworld. It’s almost like a currency, and no one knows that better than Met.

That’s why she enjoys being a DJ. It’s like killing two birds with one stone, being able to occasionally get outsider information from her listeners as well as host her own show to keep a facade up. It wouldn’t do for people to one day question how her friends and her sustain themselves. Questioning would lead to rumours, rumours would lead to investigations, investigations would eventually uncover lie after lie that they could possibly throw out, and that wouldn’t do for them.

But regardless, she’s not heading to her studio to host her show. Instead, she heads to a bar, a small business that is run by another faction’s member, specifically faction 44. INFO, as inconspicuous as its name is, truly deserves that number for its symbolism of ‘double death’. Pretty accurate since the dirt they had could ruin some people’s lives, she thinks.

Luckily, they don’t have much blackmail material against them, if they have at all, but that’s not important anyway. The bar’s relatively empty, and she waves to the bartender who has a piece of paper stuck to his face. She has always been curious why he would do that, but then again, the topic was somehow always avoided in their casual conversations.

“Hey Maekami!” Within seconds, she’s beside him, poking his tail. It’s fascinating, she thinks, what with how they move and function depending on the differences in their shapes. Demons are fascinating in that aspect. “Got anything new for me?”

He gently pushes her away before moving closer to the storage room. “Please refrain from touching my tail, miss Met. And yes, there are a few letters and magazines. Would you like a drink?”

“Yep. Jus’ spill all the tea!”

Even though his face is hidden behind a piece of paper, from how he stands there and seemingly stares at her is telling enough to know that he’s confused. Then he regains his composure before shaking his head. “It would be a waste of a drink to do that. Would you rather spill water instead?”

Evidently her meaning flew over his head, but before she could correct him, a large stack of magazines appeared before her. Or at least, that was what it looked like from afar. To most, it would have looked like the bartender just gave a weeks worth of porno to a teenage girl that had been left behind by the more perverted customers, but to those in the know, most of the content in the magazines had been edited to contain other non-pornography related passages, the only thing remaining being the photos.

Not that Met minded. It was better to have pictures of ladies in compromising positions with the text beside them than to have to read all the information on plain paper in a folder. Besides, the more decent demons wouldn’t even look her way if they thought it was porn.

Her phone started buzzing halfway through that thought, and she fished it out of her pocket to look as a barrage of notifications started coming in from unknown numbers.

Another day of work again.

——————————

Bis sighed for almost the hundredth time as she plunged her dagger into the cold skin protecting the precious organs they need to harvest. It doesn’t help that the basement is freezing, meant to keep the goods as fresh as they can be for transportation, but then again the young yokai is used to death, and she’s experienced with dealing with the unnatural chills that occur while she prepares them.

It’s better to think of the humans that she cuts up as a lower species, not even worth her time to give them a small funeral. Even if she’d wanted to, she doesn’t think that it’d be good for her name to dig a hole and pour symbolic sticks and stones into it, not with a ghost who continuously mistakes her as a dog. Not that it really matters at the end of the day, although Bis would fight to the end of her life to argue about the distinction.

The delicate organs sit on the table now, its host now almost completely hollowed out. Almost like clockwork, she picks each one up and places them into separate containers, transparent for all to see aside from the opaque labels. Intestines, kidneys and stomach are some of the few she just throws in without questioning. The blackened heart and destroyed lungs make her pause to think for a bit before she tosses them into their jars as well. It’s none of her business to deal with separating them. If she did that for all of their victims, it would take much longer to fill up the orders. That’s why they have a morgue filled with corpses that are slowly mummifying from the cold, and that’s why she deals with them as fast as she can in order of those killed less recently than others first.

Bis can almost see her breath as she breaths out, but she holds on for a while more as she starts to cut off the goods’ limbs. They’re brittle, but it makes them even easier to break off, and before she knows it, she’s managed to toss them into a bag before she finally runs up the stairs to the warm house.

It’s a welcome feeling of warmth, and Reina barely glances at her before holding out some drink towards her, which she accepts gratefully before sipping it.

——————————

It was by luck that there were people trekking a mountainous path.

It was with greater luck that she found a tour bus travelling up the same mountain.

Hanten grinned as she watched the bus fall off the cliff, crashing into the forest below. Not that she had much of a hand in it, apart from her breaking off the mountain and dropping it on them. There would be survivors, she guessed, but she figured she would give them a head start to run whilst she cleared up the bloody mess she had accidentally made. It really wasn’t her intention, but the way they had screamed once she twisted their companions head off really excited her that she couldn’t help but up the stakes and break off their legs from their bodies one by one.

Once that was taken care of, she flew down, landing behind a tree before emerging to the group of humans who had pulled themselves out of the crash site as she had expected. Her horns and tail were already out of sight, hidden away once she had suppressed her power, but once they started to notice her, her eyes darted around and she started counting.

“Hey! Girl! Oh god, you’re covered with blood! Are you alright?”

There had been five on the mountain, and she had gotten thirty during the night and the early morning. Now there was about ten to twelve, and there was bound to be more in the bus. All in all, this would have to be the last act the demon needed to put on for the day. She pretended to be light headed, and watched as the crowd made their way towards her and surrounded her, trying to help the ‘badly injured’ girl.

“It’s okay, we’ve got a first- first aid kit, and there’s an ambulance coming, so- so just hold on, kid.

Of course, they’d thought she was one of them. Once they couldn’t see any differences, there was no reason to suspect the blood covered girl was bloody for any other reason other than from the accident. What she was doing now was getting as many people as she could around her so that she didn’t have to waste too much energy. And at last, she heard a signal.

“Eh? There’s... there’s no injury? But... how?”

Everybody around them who heard went silent and moved closer to the paramedic and her, wondering what was going on. All the sitting ducks were coming closer to observe this strange miracle. Humans. Always so trusting and helpful in times of crises.

Hanten grinned.

With one swing of her arm, the sword she had summoned sliced through the crowd. They didn’t even get to scream before being swallowed by her shadow, leaving a large pool of blood behind. She dipped her finger into it before swiping it on her clothes. Now wasn’t a good time to get a snack, not when she had more important matters to attend to. No matter how tired she was. She had been at this for the whole day, with only sheer luck getting her through the quota required.

Looking back at the mess, she figured that it was a good thing that this place was quite secluded. It wouldn’t do for her to be discovered by unwanted parties, especially if she didn’t want to get nagged by Kurotsuno.

Speaking of Kurotsuno...

She looked up, trying to figure out how much time she had left before the meeting. The sun was already at the horizon, colouring the skies a bright orange, and a low grumble escaped her.

She really ought to have set an alarm.

The meeting was in the evening. In less than thirty minutes. If she was fast, she could make it back to the mansion in at best fifteen minutes. But since she still had to get the damned coffee, which no doubt had a long line waiting, probably twenty minutes if she rushed.

Hanten huffed. Forget the nagging, she was going to get scolded.

——————————

It was sort of boring having to repeatedly go through folder after folder.

Sort the folders. Read the folders’ content. Deal with said content. Attend to issues in the faction. Account for everything.

Kurotsuno huffed as she tried to think of how to formally address each of the more important letters. As much as it sounded like an easy job, it was anything but. Maintaining formalities and a low profile was much more difficult than even she would have expected. If they, they being her mostly, messed up at one part, it was difficult to guarantee that some of those opposing them wouldn’t take the opportunity to destroy them.

Regardless, the more she focused on her work, the faster time seemed to pass, which was a pleasant surprise when she looked up and noticed that it was already afternoon. Close to 6, even. Almost time for the meeting.

And she waited.

Slowly, the clock’s short hand pointed at 6 fully.

Kurotsuno clenched her fist. Where was that idiot? This wasn’t the first time that she was late. Did she not care about punctuality?

The clock ticked on, and she sighed before she pulled out her phone. No point in stressing over such a trivial thing. Sure, Hanten was always late for these events. Slacking off no doubt, but she would always make it back in the nick of time. That was at least something, if not the only thing, that was almost guaranteed.

But she was so giving her a piece of mind once they came back from this meeting—

The door creaked as it swung open.

“Coffee’s here.”

Kurotsuno looked up from her phone as her second in command brushed past her to place the iced drink on the table, looking worse for wear. Her clothes were entirely stained with blood, not to mention how disheveled she looked after having been out for most of the day.

And she came back just ten minutes before the arranged meeting time.

“You’re late. Very. Late.”

“Are you going to say something else?”

“...just hurry up and change. I’ll settle this issue with you later.”

Plus she stank of sweat. Disgusting. If she was anyone other than her right hand, she would have stabbed them for just daring to enter her study in such a state. Instead, Kurotsuno sighed as she reached out into one of her drawers to pull out a towel along with a set of spare clothing and threw it, hitting Hanten square in the face as she noticed the projectile a little too late. She had planned for such an issue a while ago, storing some clothing to save time since there was nothing she could do that would force the demon before her to clean up faster anyway, so she might as well just calm down and wait——

The cup of iced drink looked drastically different from what she had been expecting. “You didn’t get my usual order? What’s this?”

She received a glare which disappeared once Hanten pulled off her shirt, to which Kurotsuno responded by turning away. “I was in a rush. It’s just a regular mocha. Extra sweet.”

That made sense, and she poked the second bag that had been next to her drink. It looked like cans, four in total, though she couldn’t quite make out what sort of contents they held. “And what’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“The bag next to the the coffee. What are those cans?”

A pause. “Energy drinks.”

“Four cans?”

“Watch me.”

“Are you that tire—“

The cans clinked against each other before she heard a hiss, and Kurotsuno took that as the signal that she could look back. As she had expected, Hanten was now chugging one of said energy drinks, looking much more presentable in a suit compared to the sweat drenched shirt she had been wearing previously that was now on the floor.

Kurotsuno sighed before reaching out to pull Hanten along.

“Let’s go, you oaf.”

“Mmm-Ack!”

Now that they were ready, she stepped out of the study, drink in one hand and Hanten’s tie in the other, leading her right hand out of the room to go for the meeting thankfully not too far away. They would be late, but at least it wouldn’t be too late as she had been expecting.

Then her phone buzzed.

A message from Reina who was accounting for their stock.

“Also, you’re four short. Work on it later.”

A loud indignant cry followed.

Such was a day of work in their faction.

#obsolete dream #kurotsuno #hanten (mogeko)#met (mogeko)#bis (obsolete dream)#reina (obsolete dream)#Mafia AU #mogeko

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whatifsandspheres · 5 years

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The abusive pieces of shit are still alive and kicking. They are more here than they were last time I visited. Now they seem so much more in my own family's minds and hearts.

I don't even have a patch of dirt to call my own, just lies like the last rug swept out from under my feet. Worse.

I have less than the rest of the day's worth of cigarettes and I can't figure out how to sell a kidney on the black market.

My family is not only joining in the abuse and intentional confusion. They seem to be enjoying it.

I have practically begged to be given straightforward and transparent conditions and an assessment of what to expect from them. Nothing of the sort has been afforded to me.

People literally live for decades stocking shelves with little more than their week's worth of waged between them and being homeless, and yet they hardly question it or feel enough insecurity to change the way things are so long as they are comfortable enough with their personal life and belongings. They'll even take on debt for decades and try to climb further up the same society in status and reinforce the same abusive systems without feeling like they are perpetuating abuse. If they don't feel abused with such allowances of comfort, how could they fathom or fight against such things. The most they will offer against is lip service and virtue posturing "I fight the system from the inside."

There are literally two empty houses in the family and I'm not allowed to move a single stone without it abiding to someone else's whims.

I wish the details and explanations wouldn't sound like complaining or a pity party on the surface, but I have seen how nobody is willing to even listen, much less help on my side, to what makes the circumstances so unjust and easily resolved.

I will literally sell an organ, a kidney, I suppose-- if I can secure the appropriate means and the intended assets for this sociopathic clusterfuck of pretend-humans to just leave me to a patch of dirt and stop fucking around so much with my life.

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starcunning · 6 years

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Suffer Me to Cherish You: 16 Nov

I had to get up so early to get this done. I could have slept in an hour because I forgot time zones existed, but oh fucking well. Enjoy Fanfest, everybody!

Previously: Week One, Week Two Previously: 11 Nov, 12 Nov, 13 Nov, 14 Nov, 15 Nov

Despite her diffidence, there was a sense of longing in the words. The grasses grew thick in the Emprise, waist-high on the dark knight and her charge, and Myste let the tufted heads of seed hulls skim over his open palms as they passed. Rhalgr’s Reach lay just beyond, where the ruined colonnade met a cave, its mouth framed in a facade of stonework. There was a white figure, stark against the shade, like some sort of perverse silhouette, who lifted his head as she approached.

“Where’s the other one?” X’khilo Nunh called. “Fray is … indisposed,” Shasi settled on. As she drew nearer, she lifted her hand just a fraction at the wrist, and Myste curled his fingers around her own. “Pity,” said X’khilo. “I could’ve grown to like him.” Shasi felt annoyance prickle up her spine, not sure if that were Fray’s reaction or her own. Whatever the case, it moved her to mutter, “The feeling was not mutual.” Clearing her throat, she spoke more clearly. “This is Myste. Myste, this is X’khilo Nunh.” “I’m her father,” X’khilo told the boy. Shasi only closed her eyes a moment on that statement. “It’s nice to meet you,” Myste said, very solemnly. X’khilo did not return the pleasantry, only stared back at the pair. “You never told me who he is to you,” he said. “Fray’s get?” Shasi bit back a laugh. “No,” she said. “An orphan from Ishgard. I’ve been looking after him.” She lifted her hand, extricating it from Myste’s, and clapped him on the shoulder, shaking him gently. “And he looks after me.” “It’s a shameful thing to raise someone else’s child,” X’khilo said, eyes narrowed as he averted his gaze. Myste looked wounded by that, and Shasi lifted her hand to the crown of his silver hair, shaking her head.

“Did you bring the rest of the tribe back with you?” she asked. “Come now, Shasi,” X’khilo said, with a grin that flashed too much tooth to ever really be friendly. “X’shasi,” she corrected. He ignored her. “You know that’s the council’s decision.” “Right,” she said, not at all convinced. “What did they decide, X’khilo?” “They decided that I should go first, see how settled things were, and then we could begin the process of emigration gradually.” “Of course,” Shasi said. “Well, I hope you know that for those too old or weak to make the trip on their own, I’m willing to hire a caravan to see to their safe transport,” she said, locking eyes with the Nunh. “I will.” “I left a linkpearl with X’rhinne, so perhaps I’ll get in contact with her to make arrangements.” “You can just call her Rhinne,” X’khilo said, rolling his eyes. She could, and she had done so often enough while in conversation with the old healer. But to do so in front of X’khilo felt dangerous, as though that connection gave him some path to her.

It had been weakness enough to suggest that Myste meet him.

“So what about this one,” X’khilo asked after a moment, jerking his chin at Myste. “Your little cuckoo.” “I want to help people,” Myste told him. “Ah, another of that altruistic lot,” X’khilo said, and Shasi could not fail to note the roll of his eyes as he said it. “Why should you do for others what they can do for themselves?” “The things I can do for you can be done by no other,” Myste pronounced. He seemed more confident when he spoke on the subject, standing taller. His excitement animated him, brought a smile to grave features, and Shasi could not help but to smile herself. “Is there someone from your past you’d like to see again?” he asked. “Someone you lost?” X’khilo Nunh simply stared at Myste, and then looked at X’shasi. “Seriously?” he scoffed. “Yes,” Myste insisted, all the confidence of a moment before shattered. “Yes,” Shasi echoed, more calmly. “I know it sounds hard to believe, but Myste can return the dead to life—at least for a little while. I’ve seen him do it.” “I’ll believe that when I see it,” X’khilo snorted. “Fine,” Shasi challenged, “then ask.” X’khilo narrowed his eyes at her, then turned his flinty gaze on Myste, his black-tipped ears pressed back against his skull. “I want to talk to her mother,” he said. “X’shakkal Halha.” “Is that—” Myste began, but Shasi cut him off. “Yes,” she said. “Do it.”

It still hit her like a punch to the kidneys when she heard a woman’s voice call Khilo’s name. Astonishment was written plain upon the aging Nunh’s face, and Shasi turned to follow the line of his gaze.

Picking her way through the grass was a miqo’te woman of about Shasi’s own age. Her hair was a tarnished silver, shaggy but short, tossed by the breeze that rippled through the grass. Her eyes were silvery, too, framed by the dark lashes Shasi had inherited from her. She wore a leather-reinforced bliaud, and from her ears dangled a pair of amethyst cabochons. Shasi lifted a hand to tug at the earrings dangling from her own ears, a fingertip tracing the silver figure inlaid over the stone. The very same gryphon rampant glinted on the woman’s earrings—the same earrings. Her mother’s earrings. But X’shakkal looked younger than she did in most of Shasi’s memories.

X’khilo recognized her in an instant just the same. “I didn’t think it was really possible,” he said. “I know,” she laughed. “I thought I would never see Gyr Abania again.” X’khilo stepped out of the shadows of the Emprise, into the sunlight and the tall grass. He stood a head taller than her mother, the long, fluffy fur of his tail blown about by the wind.

“Look how happy he is,” Myste whispered, sounding overjoyed himself. And Shasi had to admit it was true—she had never seen X’khilo look anything like this calm and content—he seemed always on edge around her, for some reason she could not fathom.

“I thought I would never see you again,” X’khilo said, leaning in to press his forehead to Shakkal’s. There was the briefest tremor, Shakkal’s ears swiveling back for just a moment before she leaned up to meet him. “You have me now,” she said. “What can I say to you?” “Explain something to me,” X’khilo said.

Shasi reached down to pluck up a stalk of wild grass, winding it through her fingers like a cord. The prayer beads from Fray’s funeral were still looped around her left wrist, and she unwound them a moment later, the soft clatter as she turned the beads about the circle lost to the wind. She felt an unease in her chest, not sure if it belonged to her or not.

“What is it?” Shakkal asked after a moment, straightening. She looked up at him with soft eyes—eyes Shasi had never seen in her mother’s face before. “Why did you leave?” X’khilo asked after a moment. Shakkal reached up to adjust the lay of the fur ruff about the Nunh’s throat, straightening his white leathers. Shasi knew the gesture, had been on the other end of it dozens of times—from the first time she’d put on the dueling jacket to the very last, the morning they marched on Carteneau. “You know why,” Shakkal said, looking away, not at her daughter but toward the eastern horizon. “You’re standing in the ruins of my reasons why.” “We would have been fine where we were,” X’khilo protested, closing his deep blue eyes. “The royal forces weren’t going to come all the way up the mountain just for us.” “You’re so sure of that,” Shakkal said, the corner of her mouth quirking upward in amusement. “Why?” “Because it’s been decades and they never came,” said X’khilo. “You can say that now with the benefit of hindsight,” X’shakkal told him, stepping back so she could run a hand through her hair. “We didn’t know it at the time. It seemed best to be prepared to fight,” she said. “To make sure others were given the same chance. We knew the art. It would have been selfish to hoard it.” X’khilo shook his head: “It could have gone poorly for you. For the tribe. Why give up the advantage?” Shakkal squinted at him: “It was war, Khilo,” she said. “We didn’t have the time to be that small-minded.” She took another step back. “You never taught it to me,” he said, looking away. He cast his gaze about, and it settled on Shasi for a moment. Myste stepped closer to her, and she settled her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What would you have done with it?” Shakkal wondered. X’khilo turned his face to hers once more, the scar upon his jaw twisting his frown into a scowl. “Defended myself,” he said. “From unjust challenge.” “If you could not keep the seat, ‘twere better you lost it in any case,” Shakkal said, the words falling carelessly from her lips.

Shasi could see the lines of anger write themselves upon X’khilo’s form, the way he drew his shoulders up and his ears swung back. His anger troubled her less than had all that passed before; the memory of that easy affection made Shasi wary.

“And what did your altruism get you?” X’khilo demanded to know. “Did it save your home, when the Black Wolf came to take it? Did it make your life any easier in Ul’dah?” Shakkal only stared at him, dumbstruck as Shasi had never seen her in her life. “Did it get you killed?” X’khilo pressed. “No,” Shasi protested from her place on the sidelines. Those hard eyes turned on her, almost black in their anger. She had not inherited them from him, nor her mother’s bewildered silver stare. “Maybe you got her killed instead,” he said. “If you want someone to blame, I’m as good a target as any,” Shasi told him, setting her jaw. Her tail twitched behind her, batting restlessly at the grass. “Stop it, all of you,” Myste whispered. “I’m sorry, Myste,” Shasi said, “but this has been coming a long time.” She lifted her chin and her voice: “I’ve asked myself the same question,” she admitted. “I’m sure everyone who lost someone at Carteneau has spent the last decade doing the same.” “She’s right here,” X’khilo said. “Did she kill you?” he asked, turning his gaze on Shakkal. “I don’t know,” she said, her shoulders shaking. “Did she get you killed?” “I don’t know!” “Why did you leave, Shakkal?” Khilo demanded to know, reaching out to take hold of her by the arms. “Why did you take our daughter and run away?” “She’s not your daughter,” Shakkal shouted back.

She wasn’t?

“But you knew that,” Shakkal added a moment later. X’khilo looked across the field at X’shasi, the force of his gaze like a physical blow. “Yes,” he said. “I knew. I just never understood why.” “I can’t give any answer that would satisfy you,” Shakkal said. “I know,” X’khilo said. Then he said, “If I ever see you or your little cuckoo again, it will be much too soon. I can’t believe you would do this to me.”

X’khilo’s indignation did not move her. His anger did not frighten her. She was much too much in shock for that, and the only sound that reached her was Myste’s sniffling. Shasi dropped to her knees, holding her arms out to him. X’khilo Nunh spat upon the ground as he passed them.

“I didn’t know,” Shasi whispered. To herself, to him, to Myste; she wasn’t sure, only sure then that it needed to be said. No one answered. “Mama,” she called across the meadow, “why didn’t you tell me?” X’khilo’s stalking footsteps receded into the distance, echoing in the cave that led to Rhalgr’s Reach. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to Myste. “Forgive me.” “No,” Myste said, and Shasi felt as though she might crack in half again. “No, no, it isn’t your fault, we did not fail …” “I don’t know that we succeeded,” Shasi said, bowing her head to rest her forehead against Myste’s. “He will not thank us for the closure he found … if he found it at all.” “No, that is not his way,” Myste agreed. Shasi lifted a hand to brush her thumb over the boy’s cheek, wiping away his tears. A fresh spate fell, and a deep sorrow gripped her, echoed within by a second voice. “I wanted to speak to her too,” Shasi said. But she could hear the whispers of the abyss, and knew her chance had passed. “Forgive me,” Myste whispered. “I can’t hold onto them long after … when he ran away, he stopped thinking of her, and I couldn’t … what cruelty.” “Family can be … complicated,” Shasi said with a sigh. “You did nothing wrong, Myste.” “That’s not true,” he said. “I stole from you. Go on … reclaim that which I took. Make yourself whole, at least.”

It took her a long time to pull away from Myste, to push herself to her feet. There was no recognizable trace of her mother as she looked out over the landscape, only a dark wound in a sunlit meadow, seething with blackness. She gazed into its depths and swore she felt the presence of flame, flickering unseen. The taste of it on her blade was ash and ruin.

“You wouldn’t call her again if I asked, would you.” “It’s not wise,” Myste said. “Will you come with me a little ways? I want to say a prayer for her.” “There’s a shrine to Rhalgr in the Reach, isn’t there?” “Yes,” Shasi said, “and maybe I should go there, but I don’t want to just now. Rhalgr and I have always had a … contentious relationship.” “Then where will we go?” Shasi lifted a hand, pointing at the shape of a ziggurat where it broke the landscape. When she let it fall to her side again, Myste laced his fingers with hers.

There was no trace of the qiqirn that had taken up residence in the ruin at one point. Shasi wondered if that was because Clan Centurio had driven them out, or if Lyse had managed to coax them elsewhere somehow. She hoped it was the latter, but did not set much store by the thought. It was quiet for her visit, and that was enough.

“I came here once as a girl, so small I barely remember it,” she said. “We must have left here not long after.” “Why?” Myste wondered. She looked down at him. “I wasn’t always a dark knight. I don’t know that I always will be. I was sure I’d be a red mage all my life, but look at me now. But my mother … the art was important to her. And it was important to her that I learn it, too, even after we left. Especially after we left.” “Why?” he echoed, in the guileless way of curious children. “Because the art was born in Gyr Abania, and so was I, and she wanted me to have that.” “Do you ever regret it?” “No,” Shasi said, kneeling down in the dirt and laying her sword aside. “She taught me to defend the weak, and to offer my aid wherever it was needed. Especially if I was asked. So … in a way, you could thank her for the fact that you are here with me, too.” That seemed to make him smile a bit. “Then I will say a prayer in her memory too.” Memory. What a curious thing. Shasi closed her eyes with a sigh. “She seemed … different. Strange. She’s been gone a decade already, but I …” She shook her head, feeling the weight of her mother’s earrings as they swayed with the motion. “I always got the sense there was someone she missed, but … I didn’t dream it would be him. And maybe it wasn’t, if I’m not … if I wasn’t …” “We’re so many things when we’re alive,” Myste said. “And then death comes, and all of a sudden, we no longer exist …” “And the living are left to make sense of our contradictions.” Shasi took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

She could feel the sunlight on her skin, seeping too warm through the black of her gambeson. There was a gentle breeze, and she could taste dust with every breath, but there was the scent of growing things, the haze of late summer settling over her shoulders. Soon it would be autumn, as it had been when she had first crossed the wall. She felt so distant from the woman she had been then, untouched by love and loss, unhoned by grief. There was an ache in her chest when she thought of it—all those she had met; all those she had left behind. The terrible cost that had mounted all around her so that she could kneel in the dirt and think of her mother. She did not flinch from it.

Welcome back, Fray said, and it startled her so much she had to bite back a yelp. “What’s wrong?” Myste said. Shasi’s eyes snapped open, flustered. Don’t tell the boy a thing. “It’s nothing,” Shasi said. “Just a bug bite.” He looked at her so strangely that she had to laugh, and for a moment he joined in. “So many things,” he echoed, all the joy fled him. “Have we done more harm than good?” “Who’s to say?” Shasi wondered. “I hope we have,” he said. “You are still a good person. You can still be a good person.” Shasi didn’t know quite what to say to that. “I hope she would agree with you.” “One more … and then yours, isn’t that it?” “If you still agree to it.” “All the lives we’ve shattered … we can make them come together again,” Myste promised. All the wishing in the world will not make the broken shield come together again, Fray whispered. Shasi knew who she wanted to believe. As surely as she knew the truth. “I’d like to stay here just a little longer, and then we’ll go somewhere else. Find someone else. Alright?” “Alright,” Myste said. “Go and play. It’s good for a boy your age to go and play.”

Sunlight streamed through his hair, staining it gold as it streamed out behind him. Shasi watched from a distance, but all the ease had gone from her.

You know what this is, don’t you? Fray said. Tell me you’re not this blind. Shasi shook her head. “I think I’m starting to understand,” she said. A lie, however sweet, is nevertheless a lie. “Was she lying to him?” Shasi asked. “Is that what it was? Why? What have the dead to fear from the living?” What do you want me to tell you? Fray asked. Think carefully about the question. “Oh,” she said. Such a small word. Such a heavy burden. She could feel Fray’s frustration. Ware the penitent, for theirs is a compulsion all-consuming. “What should we do?” You won’t kill him. The thought seemed an affront to her. She didn’t need to say so. The only child you’ll ever have? You won’t kill him. “I could always adopt an orphan from the Brume, teach him the dark arts you’ve taught me.” That would require you to bring someone else into the hell you’ve made for yourself. “You know me too well.” I am you. “So what do we do?” You know what he is. Who else would you go to? Shasi closed her eyes and sighed. “No. No,” she said. Go on. Who do you trust with the knowledge of what you’ve done? Who do you trust with your grief? “Vesper Bay it is.”

#smtcy #x'shasi #fray myste #DRK job quest spoilers #original content #starcunning writes #ff14 #nanowrimo #myste ffxiv #x'shakkal halha #x'khilo nunh #i'm BACK IN THE SADDLE AGAIN

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sussex-nature-lover · 4 years

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Thursday 3rd December 2020

Tucked under a Duvet

♦ bold type will reveal an external link to sites unconnected with this blog

I’ve got something wrong with my hip. No idea what or why, I haven’t done anything to it, it just came on all of a sudden last evening. It’s like a trapped nerve and it goes all down my leg - it reminds me of my shoulder issue a few weeks back. I’m staving it off with warmth as much as possible but got very little rest last night and then today had to go out to the local Pharmacy to get the ‘flu jab.

I only mention the jab as we had to go through the whole Covid-19 question and safety routine first, including a temperature check. Apparently my temperature was raised (still within guidelines though) and I had to say there was no surprise because I was so well clad, including what the girls call my ‘Uth Hat’ It’s going to be a family heirloom I can tell: they’ll be fighting over it when I’m gone! I’ve had it for 20 years and it’s been one of the most useful things I’ve ever bought. Waxed and therefore totally waterproof and a shape that means I can twist and gather all my hair and tuck it in so it stays dry and doesn’t frizz whatever the weather throws at us.

The hat’s fairly similar to this one. Mine’s decorated with a pin and small feathers to one side, which put the girls in mind of an elegant moth - hence the Uth nickname. The lining is quilted silk satin in a nice mustard shade with the very faint tyre track marks from when I lost it in the Sevenoaks’ Waitrose underground car park and it got ran over. To say it’s had a charmed life, as well as being practical is a massive understatement because it also once got accidentally left behind in a corporate box at Wembley Stadium. Luckily a friend was still there and doubled back, the wrong way up an escalator, to effect a brilliant rescue. That was the best result of the day because Crow’s team were badly disappointed and so I shall say no more about that (Carling Cup Final 2009/2010 Robbed!!!)

Despite being well protected and snug it was an absolutely horrible day, very cold and raining heavily, so apart from admiring the pretty lights (it’s a different village with a gold and silver theme, not the ice blue of the market town where the dentist is) we didn’t linger and got back home as soon as possible to a hot water bottle and duvet.

All the trees on the Lime Walk are decked out and the memorial crosses from Remembrance Day are still insitu

You can tell how much it was lashing down

A second large tree with the same theme as you leave the village. My phone photos in the rain really don’t do them justice

Garden activity has been much the same today with a particularly high number of House Sparrows. I took these photos yesterday when it was dry.

What have we here then?

Obviously whatever they made of it, it was nothing to put them off!

The only other garden note is that the number of girl Pheasants is now up to five.

Anyway, as I was saying, not feeling the best and so if anyone, like me, is relaxing today and wanting a bit of TLC here’s an article I found in Country Life magazine about Prince Charles’ Scottish home. Look out for my favourite ducks.

Birkhall

It’s from March, so not particularly appropriate right now as it’s about the gardens, but there are some nice photos and bits of information, which make a pleasant distraction. It’s good to read that the Prince’s Head Gardeners are women, both at Highgrove in Gloucestershire and in Scotland. We’ve visited Highgrove and it is absolutely lovely. Hard to say which was my favourite part as all of the individual styles of garden there are so different, but I did like the ex Chelsea Show Garden and as per always, was very drawn to the walled Kitchen Garden. which is an absolute dream. I hope you like this bit of escapism.

Photo via Pinterest

I know I’d never be industrious enough and put the work in to achieve anything close for myself, but I can dream on a horrid wet day - and think about buying a Lottery Ticket.

We were so lucky that we chose to get outdoors yesterday, even if the sunshine was a bit limited it was much warmer and more pleasant.

and although the gardens are being put to bed, it was really surprising how many new shoots we saw. Obviously I don’t include this Winter Jasmine (above) which was doing its thing adding a bit of seasonal cheer, but elsewhere there seemed to be plenty of shoots and buds that I wasn’t really expecting.

Climbing Hydrangea - Hydrangea Petiolaris

The hydrangea is a very ancient plant and fossils of between 40 and 65 million years old have been discovered. Roots of hydrangea were used by Native American medicine men to cure lung infections and kidney stones but please don't try this at home! Many varieties of hydrangea have been cultivated in China and Japan for several thousand years. In 1829, Philippe Franz von Siebold, a doctor and botanist, was expelled from Japan where he was working. He was accused of spying for the Russians and asked, politely, to leave. He did so, but with several varieties of hydrangea in his possession, including Hydrangea 'petiolaris'.

I say we were lucky with the weather yesterday, but we did get a reality check when we were looking at one of the borders by the house, where it looked as though it’d be colder indoors than out!

Bateman’s looking decidedly chilly

New rose buds

Most surprising of all was the Magnolia around by the side door

Looking very healthy against the lovely stone and when you get closer to it...

I was assuming it’s a Magnolia Grandiflora like we have at home, except this is evergreen. It certainly looks very similar, but flowers in December? and there are a few well formed buds as well, not just one rogue. Gosh, it took ours donkeys years to decide to start flowering at the right time. This one does look like it’s in a very sheltered spot, but even so.

Hypericum Hidcote more Winter colour

All the flowers we saw followed the colours I usually associate with early in the year and Springtime - the whites, yellows and purpley blue, which reminds me, I managed to source more Saffron from Mr Morrison. Hoorah as there’s no point relying on our garden Crocus when they start to bloom because we don’t have the right type. It can be grown in the UK though, where do you think the place name Saffron Walden originated from!

Saffron is a spice derived from the flower of Crocus sativus, commonly known as the "saffron crocus". The vivid crimson stigma and styles, called threads, are collected and dried for use mainly as a seasoning and colouring agent in food. Saffron has long been the world's most costly spice by weight

Footnote, which is actually a Hat Note:

you can get hatpins like I wear except I’ve collected some of the feathers myself and tuck them in

Link

December 3rd Advent Door. Reynard

#nature photography gardens trees Winter colour love where you live Christmas decorations Highgrove Birkhall

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vampyrechick · 4 years

Text

My Mental Health Story

*****WARNING: This post contains self harm and suicide attempts and ideation*****

When I finally accepted my diagnosis of bipolar II, it sounds cheesy, but my whole life made sense. Me as a little girl isolating, being paranoid, getting fixated on things, moods changing quick, the self harm. The self harm... first it was digging my long fingernails into the back of my hands till it bled, banging my head against the wall, pulling out my hair. Later as i grew up, the self harm turned into punching large bruises into my legs, raking my nails down my forehead, and eventually cutting my wrists. It was punishment. Punishment for being me.

I was picked on all through school- too fat, too skinny, fake boobs, etc. None of which was true. I was right in my BMI and there was nothing in my bras but my boobs. I got made fun of for having freckles and moles and I even got picked on for needing a rolling backpack when I broke my clavicle and was unable to lift heavy things.

I started college and started dating my now husband. I’d had a few huge panic attacks here and there, but never really knew what they were. He knew something was wrong with me, but didn’t quite know what. He had a suspicion on bipolar and after working with a bipolar person, so did my dad.

I’d been working at a well known lingerie store for 7 years when my boyfriend and I got married, had a kid, and bought a house with my brother. Having a baby was hard especially not knowing she was lactose intolerant so my moods were everywhere. We fixed up the house for a year and finally moved in in late 2013. I’d been getting mentally abused at that store the whole time- getting passed up for promotions, blamed for things getting stolen, yelled at, etc. It was time for a new job and more money. My brother was out a job for a while, so we needed to pay for the house somehow. I got a job at a well known insurance company. I didn’t know it, but I’d been having panic attacks all through 6 months of training. It felt like I was being crushed and I couldn’t breathe and I’d been throwing up every morning while getting ready. At the age of 4, my daughter even came in to comfort me while I was nauseous and said I’d be ok and just needed food and brought me a bucket to throw up in. Being on the phones was the worst for me. I did get my promotion and moved out of training though. I was there almost a whole year and almost to my next promotion and I had the biggest panic attack I’d ever had. It was the start of my shift and I couldn’t get on the phone. All those mornings of throwing up in the shower getting ready for this job blew up into this huge 2 hour long panic attack. My friend had to talk to managers over the phone after trying to calm me down, I had to talk to the nurse, my brother and husband had to come pick up me and my car. That was the last day in the office for me. HR was horrible. The lady I got didn’t care about mental heath and constantly needed dr notes. I eventually had to quit. A lot of people quit that job because of the stress.

I had been going to the dr while at the insurance job trying to find out why I was throwing up every morning and why I couldn’t breathe. I got checked for gall stone, ulcers, crohns, everything. Ultra sounds, endoscopy, colonoscopy, etc. My dr finally told me it was mental. I refused to believe it, but I went up a floor to psych anyway. I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression. I was put on so many different combinations and saw so many different doctors and none were working. After I quit, I of course lost health insurance and had to go through the state. Again many different pills, but less often as the dr wanted to slowly try combos. My husband somewhere in there lost his job, my brother got one, and then my husband found one making road signs. I got insurance again.

My friends mom got me a job filing paperwork at a well known car dealership. I did well filing, but I started having to greet customers in service and move cars into the smallest of parking spots. I started fixating on things, arguing with my boss, and getting lonely in the back room. I even tried to open a vein in my wrist in the bathroom at work with a wire hanger. I got really depressed in the back and the anxiety while moving cars was great. I crashed 1,2,3 cars and I was out. I was put on a 3 day suspension (which afterward turned into being fired). That day I went home and took over a full bottle of prescribed medication. I wanted to sleep. I didn’t want to exist. Just sleep forever. I was tired. Tired of my brain and stress and not knowing how to fix what i was going through. Just so tired. I text my husband to pick up our daughter from school and said goodbye. He called 911 and they came in and walked me downstairs, strapped me to the bed in the ambulance and took me to the nearest hospital in late September 2017.

They didn’t have to pump my stomach, but I did end up having a seizure. My husband, mom, and dad all came to see me and my aunt and uncle watched my daughter after school. I got put on a 5150 which is a 3 day hold in the psych ward of the hospital. I begged to be let out for the first two days. I was diagnosed bipolar II and placed on a handful of medication to take while there. I eventually gave in and participated so I could go home. The meds they gave me made me hungrier. I got out in 3 days time and still had to take those meds. and 3 months later on those meds I was 60 lbs heavier. I looked and looked for someone to help me lose the weight. Eventually I found a psych at the health insurance place that changed my medication, but after a little, they weren’t cutting it. I’ve changed meds and doses a bit. I kept asking my psych and my regular dr and my therapist for a way to help me lose weight. Nothing. I got into a bipolar group after taking IOP. A handful of them had to get surgery to lose the weight they gained on bipolar meds.

May 2019 I had an episode and landed back in the hospital under 5150 this time just for ideation. I begged again the first 2 days to be let out. My husband came every night to visit and my parents at least once since my dad works out of town. I participated when I could and got out in 3 days. I went into IOP again for 12 weeks. Then last 2 weeks of October come and I’m back in the ideation stage. I need the hospital, but the insurance policy changed and I don’t know if it’s covered. I go like that until mid November. I get put on new medications and have to cold turkey off one drug and slowly go on one and whatnot. In the beginning I can’t tell what’s real and what is a dream. For a week I live like that. Then I have a day or two of being ok, and switch to being angry. Cold turkeying that drug made me lose touch with reality for a whole week then adding that new drug made me angry. I had to stop one of the new drugs (the one that made me angry).

I’ve had trouble sleeping off and on my whole life probably due to episodes. It got worse when my grandma on my dads side passed away and lately seem to have trouble often even on meds to help.

My resting heart rate is always above 100. Often around 120 and has gotten as high as 153 (resting).

On the combo I’m on now I’ve thought about giving myself a labottomy when I used to want to drill open my head and try to fix whatever is wrong with me.

April 2020 and I haven’t had a job since about July of 2018. Before COVID-19, I was getting panic attacks every day having to take my daughter to school. In fact she missed the day school closed (March 16,2020). The panic was bad and I couldn’t get myself to drive. I’ve been fighting to get on social security disability and I have a lawyer. I had a hearing in January 2020, but needed a court ordered psych appt. The appt was scheduled for late March and was canceled because of COVID-19. Since we are a 1 income family in San Diego, it’s hard to afford our house.

I’ve had meds make me talk slow, think slow, fall fast asleep at work, hungry 24/7, thirsty 24/7, have to tinkle every 45 mins, make me tense all my muscles 24/7 for weeks. I’ve had them effect my memory. Even my memory of what everyday words are.

May 2020 I’m so stressed about everything that I’m getting massive heartburn again. I don’t know what medication to help aleviate it because lithium reacts with everything.

July 2020 stress got to me. The stress of possibly not being able to stay in my house, the stress of my backyard being so full of weeds that my husky had to get fully shaved and get over 300 foxtails pulled from his skin (and of course the bill that came with it), the stress of my husband having a kidney stone in each kidney, the stress of my husbands car not having ac and his drive to and from work is 1 hour each way (and of course not being able to afford to fix it), the stress of my car leaking oil (and again not being able to afford fixing it), and I’m sure there is more. I went out with my parents and they asked me to be friends with someone who stopped being my friend because of my disorder in order to make my brother happy. That hurt. I texted them and wanted them to know how that made me feel especially while I’m dealing with all this other stuff and got some crappy replies. I then realized that I was being stigmatized by family and they weren’t the only ones and I lost it. I got put on another 5150 July 1st. I felt like I had lost a huge part of my support team. I wanted to stab myself in the throat and make a special note to my dad as to why he, my mom, and my brother made me kill myself. While in the hospital I realized that my husband and his father (when he is able to visit) are sympathetic to what I am going through and my husband does everything he can to make things easier on me. I am very lucky to have him. Later in July I had another instance where I couldn’t tell what was real and what was not. I hope that isn’t a regular thing again.

July still and I found out my brother had invited my bipolar best friend over for a bbq and made advances and was shut down. He text her dirty texts and she told me she still shut him down and I was upset because never once did anyone in my family reach out to see if I was ok after getting out of the hospital, but my brother would text my friend he’s hung out with less than 5 times? So I message him and he gets defensive and I decide to cut him from my life. I’m upset the couple days after and my husband tells me my daughter is showing more signs of bipolar (she’s 10 and there’s a 10% chance of passing it down). I get more upset and miscommunication leads to my husband calling my parents who I am still mad at for stigmatizing me. The first thing my dad does when he gets here? Tries to fix the door handle to the bathroom because my mom couldn’t open the door when there was another one she could have used instead of check on me like my husband had asked. Things get heated and I tell them they were the reason I was hospitalized on July 1st and they then said they were calling the police. More things were said about how upset and how they don’t even try to learn or read a book to learn and they said “no book can teach me about bipolar.” And I said the whole family stigmatizes me by not saying anything when I say I can babysit and my dad said “well no wonder they think they are a danger to their kids look at you!” I told them to get out and my mom had to be forced out due to refusing to leave without my child. She then called my daughters phone and tried to talk her into walking outside to them so they could take her from me. A therapist called and deemed me ok to not go to the hospital and wait until my regular appointment (in a few minutes from then). My regular therapist then called and talked to me and came to the same conclusion as the therapist before her. My husband came home to my parents on the porch. My father then told him that I was in rage and that it was just a seizure. I was not. I am hurt and sad and upset and misunderstood. I don’t understand why people don’t get that mental illness is a real thing. Why can’t you learn about bipolar from a book? How do doctors learn? You learn how it works and what the symptoms are and then you learn the specifics of the person you love. How is that a difficult concept?

I have been having seizures at night now though. Multiple a night. Just small few second ones. Haven’t been able to sleep for a few nights unless I get so tired I pass out.

As a kid I’ve never felt like I fit in with my family and it transferred into adulthood even before I found out I was bipolar. I didn’t feel happy when I felt I should have been. I felt left out from the girls group because I didn’t like the same things they did, but I didn’t fit into the boys group either. Then adulthood. I was the first out of all the cousins to have a child and get married and buy a house, but I’m not the oldest. I just never fit. I see how the oldest and second youngest (of the girl group) go out to bingo together and of course the oldest and youngest are sisters so they are close, but me? I had 2 brothers. Where did I fit? They hung with the boy cousins. I didn’t have anything in common with either group. Again adulthood I still don’t fit because I don’t have a job and my kid is over 5 years older than the age of the babies everyone else just had. Now we add bipolar to the group and no one else has a mental disorder. None diagnosed at least.

More about my childhood, but first I’ve been having trouble sleeping. Insomnia due to stress, seizures which I’ve never had before (due to stress), and things I should have grown out of (thanks genetics... due to stress). I’ve never been happy with myself because of it and I’ve always had trouble sleeping. Most of my sleeping issues came after my grandma died. All I could think about was death. Burning alive in a house fire, drowning, being creamated alive, being buried alive, etc. I got more depressed.

Growing up at family functions I would ask to “play in the car” which meant sit and wait to go home. Now looking back I know I was sad and overwhelmed with the loud noises and not fitting in. I’d throw up every Easter. I was told it was because I ate to much candy. Now I see it was anxiety. Anxiety to find all my eggs because my family is competitive. Anxiety because my family is loud. Anxiety because I didn’t fit in.

I didn’t fit in at school either. I said earlier I was always made fun of. I forgot about how the kids would always dare different boys to ask me out and then laugh about it. My husband has learned not to tell me I’m pretty or beautiful because it makes me cry. I don’t believe him. I don’t believe any compliments ever and never have. They upset me. I’ve taken lipstick or eyeliner and written “fat, ugly, useless” ect on my mirror. I gave up on wearing make up because to me, it’s not to make you look pretty, it’s to enhance your beauty and i don’t feel I have any. First it was my cystic acne and now it’s my weight. I’ll never be how I want to look again because doctors don’t care. I was literally told “would you rather be alive and fat or dead?” I want to be happy. What’s the point of a life if you aren’t happy?

Growing up I didn’t feel like I got much attention. I tried to come up with ways to break a bone at school 1-5 grade. Lotion on my hands then go on the monkey bars, play the tougher games like red rover where people did try to break your arms while running over, ect. Nothing worked.

It’s been a hell of a ride. Paranoia, obsession, fixation, anger, hypomania, depression. It’s hard. It’s really hard to live this way. I finally got someone to help me with my weight loss early April 2020 after getting to be 110lbs over what I was. I still struggle with mood swings because obviously there is no cure and I can’t remember things and often forget what everyday things are called. Some times I feel like I am putting on a face for others. Like a “happy face”, so they don’t have to ask “what’s wrong”. I do know (when I’m in my wise mind) that I have help and a small amount of people who love me who will be there for me when I need it.

It’s August now and my parents are lying to my husband about what happened just like they lied about why they asked me to be friends with someone for my brothers sake. First it was because the wedding. I pointed out they asked it was after they broke up. They stated it was just to be in the same room. I stated no that’s what was said after I told them why she didn’t want to be my friend anymore. Why am I wrong? Why lie? Why not admit it?! You fucked up! Just because my brain doesn’t produce chemicals to make me happy doesn’t mean it makes me stupid. “We called our granddaughter to come outside to the porch.” Ok. Then what? You were under the impression someone was going to take me away which in turn means you thought you would get my daughter. That’s stealing. I didn’t want her outside and you knew that.

Still beginning of August. I guess July was too rough with me not sleeping that since August came along and I fall asleep all the time and I can’t wake up. You’d think sleep would be a good thing, but the sleep I get is nothing but nightmares that I can’t wake up from. I went to the doctor the other day and found out that a small lump I’ve had on my shoulder since 4th grade is a cyst brought on by stress. I also have psoriasis... brought on by stress. I have been shaking a lot lately due to anxiety and money problems keep getting worse. My stomach won’t stop hurting.

Wow it’s the first Saturday in August. How much has happened. That girl my parents asked if I would be friend with for my brother btw is married. I had asked my friend of like 25 years when the incident happened if she would take her off things like Instagram and Facebook and stuff and she had a fit, but half took her off Instagram. You know where you unfollow them but they still follow you? So yea I was still mad but she claimed she didn’t know how to not have her on Instagram. You know that “block” button. Yea I guess that doesn’t exist. So recently after my parents thing I see she adds the new Facebook page (I blocked one so this is a new one) and I lose me shit). She text me asking me how I am doing and I not word for word say “don’t ask how I am if you don’t give a shit. I see you added that bitch recently and I don’t know if you’ve done reading or not on mental health, but triggers are things that set back forward progress. I don’t get why I fight for you to be in my life when you don’t fight for me to be in yours. Don’t text me again” and I blocked her. She then had her daughter (who’s always grounded from her phone) bombard my daughters phone with “can my brother and I sleep over? Auntie has to answer my moms texts though” like what the fuck?! She’s always been a “user.” And when I say “user” I mean “drive me here and I’ll ignore you the whole concert” “give me money and I’ll say I’ll pay you back and never actually will” “ watch my kids every weekend for like 2 months and I’ll never return the favor.” Shit like that. I’m out. Done. To quote my favorite movie in a time of pain this Katelynn “chick must have beer flavored nipples.”

August is the month that just keeps giving. I am non stop nauseous. I threw up the other day and it caused me to have a nose bleed. Mental health drug withdrawals are no joke. Hopefully I’m on a good mix again for another year or whatever. Once the withdrawals stop, I need to stop the stress and anxiety. My husband says my dad is trying to make an effort to learn now, but I don’t know if it’s too late. He and my mom have already triggered me many times by asking me to be friends with that girl who didn’t want to be my friend because my illness to make my brother happy. My dad also told me I’m a danger to children when I’ve only ever hurt myself whereas his oldest has gotten expelled from high school for fighting and has a track record for punching holes in walls and hitting cabinet doors off hinges, but because I have a label, I’m dangerous. There’s just some things you just can’t take back.

I don’t know if I’ve already stated, but I forget what things are called and the stress to get my thoughts and what I’m trying to say out is huge because I don’t want to hear “what?” “I missed that” “I didn’t hear what you said.” It’s cause I didn’t get to finish! I stopped to figure out what the word was now I forgot the whole sentence! Colored pencils are colored sticks. Elote is elbow. Ice is grass. Posture is prosper. I HATE this! I come up with ANY word that will come out to avoid a pause so I can avoid “what?” I truely cannot remember the word either until someone tells me.

It’s the end of August and my parents and I are slowly starting to talk. First about small things like video games, but yesterday I called my mom and told her I was sorry for how I expressed my feeling. I said I never should have acted out in anger and should have come to them calmly (though now thinking about it, I did and it didn’t work, but what’s done is done). My dad is reading the book and really taking it in. The book being from a bipolar persons perspective is nice for him. My mom is also doing internet research. My brother has been asking how I have been doing which is nice though I still don’t know how I feel about him and how he treated my friend. My oldest brother has been silent. We’ve never been close. It hurts, but he’s got two little girls to deal with I guess. I would have been asking about him, but oh well I’ll take what I get. I’ve did the distance thing I realized because I was afraid of losing them again. Afraid the anger and fighting would come back and it would just be a never ending cycle. I hope this book opens eyes. On other notes, I’ve upgraded to nocturnal panic disorder. I’ve been waking up in a panic from sleep. Still having nightmares, but the times I don’t, PANIC!

My parents and I are doing better since my dad is reading the book. I appologized for how I said things in anger to both of them because it wasn’t fair to them for my to have done that even if I did try calmly. I should have kept trying. My dad said the book is really eye opening and he didn’t need the apology, but appreciated it. He said reading it made him realize I couldn’t help it. I can’t explain right now what he meant, but it’s just like loss of control (I posted the book in another post). I text my brother to tell him I love him because I do and I understand why he would ask my friend out, but I’m still upset because I know I was a rebound and he didn’t have good thoughts. I know he knows it was a mistake and in time we will be ok. On another note, I found out why I was having nocturnal panic attacks. I stopped my sleeping pills that is also for anxiety. I started a medication that I haven’t been on for a little and I took my on the spot anxiety med the other day and i had a few psychotic breaks again (a few in one day). So now I won’t take my on the spots anymore.

My primary care doctor has put me on a medication to help with weight loss in addition to the others I am on. Its also supposed to help with full body pain and swelling which I have. In just three days I have already noticed reduced swelling and pain. Dieting is still hard, but less hard. I am couting calories safely to lose 1 pound a week and eating at least 80 grams of protein. Thats it. Thats my diet I am following. Nothing special or fancy or hard to do. Simple.

Took almost 2 years on the dot, but I finally got on SSDI as of early Sept. and early Oct. I got my award letter. I didnt fully win my case (only 16 months out of 2 years, but I will take it). Also, I don’t get paid for the first 5 months of that 16 months which I don’t fully understand, plus I have to pay the lawyers, but still, I won. We also got a notice saying that since I have a child, I can apply to get money to pay for her as well. That was easy to apply for and only takes a month to hear back for, so I should hear back early Nov.

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bad-beats · 5 years

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A Bowl of Bad Beets - Bad Beets Ch. 5 (12/16-1/5)

Ladies. Gentleman. Boy. Girls. Cats. Dogs. Degenerate Gamblers. Bookies. Welcome back to the Bad Beets Blog! I hope you had a fantastic holiday season and that your Sunday Scaries weren’t as bad as mine after my two-week absence from the office. This past month was full of NCAA bowl games, and bowl game szn and bad beet szn are basically synonymous. I already broke my New Year’s Resolution of having zero Bad Beets in 2020. Nonetheless, I am here to provide entertainment for all of you (albeit that it is in the form of my gambling misfortune). Let’s get after it.

12/17/19

League: NBA

Bet: Magic vs Jazz Under 209 (-110)

Units: 1.1 to win 1

Welcome back to another thrilling episode of “Life is too short to bet the under.” Thanks for being a recurring viewer. This is a classic NBA scenario: Magic down 1 with a minute left. Jazz score two buckets in a row. Magic play the fouling game to try to decrease the deficit. Jazz don’t miss free throws. 10 points scored in the final minute.

Bad Beet #1 just dips its feet in the water compared to the beets that are to come in the rest of this article.

12/18/19

League: NBA

Bet: Cavaliers -3 (-110)

Units: 2.2 to win 2

I will definitely take part of the blame for this beet. Why the hell I thought it was feasible that the Cavs could cover a 3-point spread at home is beyond me. The Cavaliers should never be favorites. Unfortunately, I didn’t listen to logic and took them -3 anyway. For most of the game, I was pretty proud of myself for this bet - I thought I had outsmarted Vegas. The Cavs were up double digits almost wire to wire. They took a 12-point lead into the fourth quarter. They were up 10 with 3:08 left in the game.

Enter “Scary Terry” Rozier. The guy couldn’t miss a three during the final 60 seconds. He channeled his inner Jimmer Fredette, pulling threes from 28+ feet.

Larry Nance Jr. missed a free throw with 31 seconds left with the Cavs up 5, and of course, Scary Terry drained a 28-footer just seconds later to cut the deficit to 2. Not to fear though, the Cavs got the ball back and were about to get fouled and head back to the line to try to cover again, right? WRONG! Colin Sexton dribbled the ball of his foot, turning the ball right back over to the Hornets. Scary Terry had a chance to win the game, but it rimmed in and out and the Cavs secured the rebound. With only a few seconds left, the Hornets didn’t foul, the Cavs didn’t get to shoot free throws, and they somehow didn’t cover the -3, and I couldn’t even escape with a push.

I forgot to mention that the Cavs had a 96% chance to cover with just three minutes left in the game according to The Action Network (@ActionNetworkHQ on Twitter). Bad Beet #2 of the week can be attributed to Scary Terry and the Lebron-less Cleveland Cavaliers.

12/19/19

League: NHL

Bet: Blackhawks vs Jets 1P over 1.5 (-150)

Units: 2.75 to win 1.85

As I have mentioned in previous blogs, there is little that is more exhilarating than betting first-period hockey totals. These bets can be instant wins if you take the over and the score is 1-1 after 2:33 seconds, or you can lose an under on a last-second goal 19:54 into the period. I love betting on the Blackhawks first-period overs this season because their defense ranks in the bottom third in goals allowed and they give up the most shots in the entire league at a whopping 35.95 per game. On the flip side of the puck, Patrick Kane can find the net faster than a fat kid can find a sleeve of Oreos.

The Hawks scored on the first shot of the game, 0:59 into the period. Alex Nylander beautifully put it home, and my bet was already halfway there with 95% of the time in the period remaining.

Someone please explain to me how the fuck one goal is scored on this first shot, and zero goals are scored on the following 28 shots. FUCK. Bad Beet #3 of the week. No words for this one.

12/21/19

League: NHL

Bet: Jets vs Wild 1P under 1.5 (Even)

Units: 0.8 to win 0.8

Remember how in the previous beet the Winnipeg Jets scored 0 goals off of 17 shots in the first period and screwed me out 1.85 units? These mother fuckers are the worst. In an uneventful first period against the Wild, they committed a penalty in a 0-0 game with just 6:30 remaining, proceeded to score a SHORTHANDED GOAL with 5 minutes left in the period, and for good measure scored with 6 seconds left to take a 2-0 lead into the break.

Fuck me. The Jets are on my shitlist. Bad Beet #4 of the week would have been non-existent if the Wild keeper could have not sucked for just 6 seconds longer (P.S. The Jets would go on to win this game 6-0).

3/26/2003

This is the day that the “Catch me outside, how bout dat,” girl was born. Also known as Danielle Bregoli, or by her rap name “Bhad Bhabie,” she is the queen of producing some absolutely horrific music during her short rap career.

I think it would be more appropriate to call her “Bhad Bheets.” Sheesh.

12/23/19

League: NCAAF - Bad Boy Mowers Gasparilla Bowl

Bet: Live Bet - UCF vs Marshall over 73.5 (+155)

Units: 2.5 to win 3.85

I LOVE COLLEGE BOWL SEASON. I am a big proponent of these games: coaches are more inclined to go for it on 4th down, there are generally some crazy trick plays, and both teams have a similar chance to win the game. You all know how much I love betting the over, and for college bowl season, I bet the over 85% of the time (which doesn’t end up working out for me). However, on this game, I had such a good read on the over that I obviously took over 59.5 before the game started. UCF plays such with a rapid tempo, and I had a feeling this could turn into a shootout-esque game. Feeling greedy, I took the live bet over 73.5 (+155) sometime in the 2nd quarter. The score at halftime was 24-7. After a 39-point third quarter, I only needed 4 points in the last quarter of the game to hit my live bet. UCF kicked a field goal with 9:04 remaining in the game. I needed one singular point over the last 9 minutes of the game. Here are the final two drives...

Marshall went on a 12 play, 48-yard drive that stalled with a turnover on downs and ate up 4 minutes of clock. With UCF up 23, they weren’t using their usual fast-paced tempo to run their offense, which was unfortunate. However, they broke a 38-yard run with just over a minute left but got tackled at the Marshall 2-yard line. I was hoping they could just punch it in with a quick HB dive, which they attempted, and utterly failed, getting stuffed at the half-yard line. And that is how the game ended. 3 total points in the 4th, 73 overall and just a half-yard away from cashing this bet. Bad Beet #5 of the week gave me kidney stones.

1/1/2020

League: NCAAF - Sugar Bowl

Bet: Georgia vs Baylor over 42 (-120)

Units: 12 to win 10

I am not even going to go into how much this one hurt. I was having a rough New Year’s Day of gambling, so I decided I wanted to chase my losses (never a good idea, 10/10 would not recommend). I needed a bailout special just one day into the new year. I won’t go into a description of what happened in this bet because it will trigger me. I’ll just leave this here...

96% chance to cover the over 44 with 4:10 remaining in the 3rd quarter. 20 minutes of the game left, and I had the over 42, not even 44. I surmise that the cover % for the over 42 was closer to 98% at that point in the game. This beet motherfucked me. One of my worst of all time. #6 of the week and the first one of 2020. Definitely not a good omen for what is to come this gambling year.

1/3/2020

League: NCAAB

Bet: Illinois 1H +5.5 (-110)

Units: 2.2 to win 2

The Fighting Illini (my alma mater) basketball team has had a tail of two seasons. They have played like a top 25 team in the country at times, beating Michigan and annihilating Purdue at home, and also have choked away games at home to Miami and away at Maryland. This beet is unexplainable. Illinois hit a bucket with 0:34 left to decrease the deficit to just 5. MSU missed a layup with 27 seconds left and the Illini grabbed the board. There was no reason for MSU to even get another possession. With the shot clock turned off, Illinois could have held for the last shot of the half, and more importantly guaranteed a cover of the 5.5 point spread.

Just by reading the play-by-play, it looks like Trent Frazier committed the dumbest foul in the game with just one second left in the half, fouling a 3-point shooter as time expired. However, it was actually just the single worst call in basketball history (maybe an exaggeration, but my god was it a horrendous call). Take a look for yourself...

youtube

I hate how referees aren’t held accountable for their mistakes. The only job in the world where you can repeatedly mess up and have no repercussions. Going to be sending this ref a Venmo request for my 2.2 units back. Bad Beet #7 of the week was just plain assault.

1/2/2020

League: NBA

Bet: Heat 1H -3 (-110)

Units: 2.75 to win 2.5

The Miami Heat are 12-5-1 against the 1H spread at home this season. However, they could be 13-5 against the spread in the first half at home this season, if not for this horrible push. Miami was up 8 with the ball with 45 seconds left in the half. That’s all you need to know. They had no business not covering the 1H spread in this game.

The Raptors very eloquently executed the 2-for-1 situation at the end of the half, made a layup to shrink the deficit to 5, got a defensive board, and then OG Anunoby hit a buzzer-beater 3 to send the game to halftime with a 39-42 score. The Heat went scoreless over the last 2:14 of the half. Miserable push.

1/3/2020

League: NCAAF - Famous Idaho Potato Bowl

Bet: Live Bet - Ohio vs Nevada over 53.5 (-115)

Units: 3.5 to win 3

With a crazy name like the Famous Idaho Potato Bowl, obviously, something out of the ordinary was going to happen to my bet. Nevada was getting trounced by Ohio most of the game, but finally found some life in the 4th quarter, attempting to mount a furious comeback. They scored an early TD in the quarter, but botched the snap on the XP and could only come away with 6. They scored another TD soon after, which made the score 30-21.

*Insert inexplicably bad coaching decision #1*

The Nevada coach decided that he wanted to go for two points, down 9, to get that 2-point conversion out of the way. Literally every statistic screams to go for 1 in that scenario, make it an 8-point game to keep the deficit to only one score, and move on with the game. Obviously, Nevada didn’t successfully convert the 2-point try, so the score remained 30-21 with 8:49 remaining in the game. At this point in time, I only needed a FG to win my live bet of the over 53.5. Nevada stopped Ohio on their next drive, and got the ball down to 1st and goal with 4 minutes left, down by 2 scores.

*Insert inexplicably bad coaching decision #2*

Here is the play call on 1st and goal that the Nevada coach came up with...

youtube

WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU RUNNING A DOUBLE REVERSE ON 1ST AND GOAL WITH YOUR TEAM DOWN TWO SCORES?!?! OF COURSE YOU ARE GOING TO TURN IT OVER. FUCK. YOU FUCKED MY BET.

Turns out this wasn’t the play that sent my bet to the grave, although I wish it was because how I actually ended up losing was far worse. After the fumble, Nevada used all 3 of their timeouts and stopped Ohio again. They got the ball back with 2:45. On the first play of their drive, a Nevada receiver broke free down the middle of the field for what would have surely been a touchdown. The only problem was that Carson Strong overthrew him by about 6 inches. Two plays later, Strong aired one out to their best receiver, Elijah Cooks, who hauled the ball in at the Ohio 8-yard line. Down 2 scores, Nevada needed both a TD and a field goal to win the game. After 3 straight incomplete passes, the field goal kicker trotted out to make it a one-score game with 1:54 remaining.

Wait...where was the field goal kicker?

*Insert inexplicably bad coaching decision #3*

YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS - THE ONLY EXPLANATION FOR WHY THE COACH WENT FOR IT ON 4TH AND GOAL FROM THE 8 WITH NO TIMEOUTS AND DOWN TWO SCORES WITH 1:54 LEFT IN THE GAME IS THAT HE BET ON OHIO! NO OTHER EXPLANATION. I NEED AN INVESTIGATION YESTERDAY! FUCK! BAD BEET #8 WAS ONE OF THE WORST BEETS OF MY LIFE!

1/4/2020

League: NCAAF - Lockheed Martin Armed Forces Bowl

Bet: Live Bet - Tulane vs Southern Miss over 49.5 (-115)

Units: 5.75 to win 5

Frankly, I am out of breath after describing that last beet. I placed this live bet early in the 3rd quarter. Tulane scored 24 unanswered in that quarter, leading 30-13 heading into the last 15 minutes of the game.

After a scoreless first 13 minutes of the 4th quarter, Southern Miss threw a pick in the endzone on 1st and goal. Icing on the shit cake. Bad Beet #9 committed necrophilia with the corpse that was left after Bad Beet #8.

Well, folks, I hope reading this blog was far less miserable than my gambling experiences have already been in 2020. Let’s recap:

Bad Beet Count: 9

Unit Swing: 36 to win 31.5 (67.5 unit swing)

Well, that’s all for this week folks. Please Like and Share on https://www.facebook.com/badbeetsblog/ to offset some of my gambling misery. See you next week!

#sports #gambling #blog #badbeat #sports gambling #wagering #casino #entertainment #aesthetic #love

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ilovelocust · 7 years

Text

Three Shiros and A Keith (Part 3)

Note: Holy cow, I did not expect this part to end up so long (This is what happens when I outline beforehand). Champion heavy chapter, but well, I’ve got a lot to establish with him. Also, up to ya’ll to decide who suggested strip poker. Enjoy!

<< First < Prev.

They’re playing hearts, because none of them are carrying anything of value worth betting, and he isn’t drunk enough to be talked into losing a game of strip poker. Much better to play a game where the three other parties don’t have motivation to gang up on him…Oh…that’s a thought worth examining more closely, later.

Takashi plays the last card of the round, and that’s game. Shiro has officially kicked all their asses. God, he’s bored of playing cards. Also hungry. Maybe? Yes, it’s his lucky day, after all. The weird alien snack bar he’d picked up at their last stop on a space station is still in his left pouch. Score. He’s just about to take a bite, when he notices the three pairs of grey eyes trained on him. Right, no ones had dinner, “Um, you guys want to split?” Won’t be much for any of them, but should keep stomachs from growling at least.

Champion and Shiro both shake their heads as Takashi reaches out a hand, “Sure,” He says eagerly. Keith breaks him off half and waits for him to take his first bite. Takashi’s face puckers up like he just bit into a lemon. Which is a pretty apt description of the flavor. There’s a reason he never got around to eating this bar. Keith snickers, as Takashi chokes it down and sends him a big eyed look of betrayal. He doesn’t feel the slightest bit guilty. Takashi turns to Shiro instead, “I can’t believe you let my sweet Keith grow up to be such a mean person,” He says accusingly.

Shiro shrugs, “He did that all on his own.”

Keith snorts, “Like either of you are innocent.” People wouldn’t call him Golden Boy, if they knew how Shiro had behaved around his friends.

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean.” Shiro says all false innocence, putting a hand to his chest.

“Two words. Alarm Clock.” Remote control installed into his alarm that let Shiro change it’s time whenever he wanted. Keith had spent a week of confusion arriving at class progressively earlier and earlier until his clock finally went off at 1 AM on a Saturday and he realized who he needed to murder.

He gets three smiles of fond remembrance. Ah, so everyone in the room is guilty as sin and fair game then.

Keith finishes off his half of the bar. Still just as sour as he remembers it, but way better than nothing. Which is what he has now. What are they going to do for food? “Hey Shiro, how long are we going to give Allura before we try and get off planet on our own?”

Shiro breaks out of his revelry and looks out the small window. A small slice of the quickly darkening sky is visible, “We’ll start scouting around for an escape route tomorrow.” He says slowly, thinking, “If we haven’t heard from Allura by tomorrow night, we’ll make our own way.” Sounds like a reasonable plan. They won’t starve by then.

“If we can find a clear spot, Red will come pick us up.” Keith offers. That will save them the trouble of figuring out how this particular planet likes to arrange its shuttle controls.

“We’ll see. The only open places I know of are the space port, which will be heavily guarded, and the ocean, which we’ll have to find a secondary means of transportation to.” Eh, it’d been fun to see the looks on Takashi’s and Champion’s face when Red swooped down to pick them up, but he’s fine with any means that get him off planet and don’t involve maiming a bunch of people.

“I know this is a stupid question,” Takashi says from where he’s shuffling the cards, “But I’ve got to make sure we aren’t overlooking the obvious. Is there a reason we can’t just give these aliens back their device? If they get it back, they might not care as much about catching us and security could relax.”

He’s not wrong, but, “Lotor’s men have infiltrated the planet. We barely got the relic away from them this time.” And not without consequences as their two guests demonstrate, “If we give it back, they’ll steal it for themselves. Used properly this could easily turn the tide of the war in his favor.” Keith explains. Hard to believe this hadn’t come up sooner. The blind trust Takashi and Champion have shown by following them without question. Sure they were all being shot at, but Shiro and him could have easily been the bad guys.

“What war?” Champion cuts in. His tone suddenly harsh.

Keith looks over, Champion’s face is stone. Deadly serious, “The war against the Galra Empire.” Hadn’t Lotor’s name made it obvious?

“You’re a rebel?” Champion shouts. Jumping to his feet, shock and anger evident on his face. Keith follows him up, hand on his bayard. Is Champion a Galra sympathizer? He can see Shiro doing the same beside him, prepping to dart in at the first sign of violence. They’re both in their casual clothes from sneaking into the temple, but there are two of them. A fight would be in their favor. Champion spares one glance for Shiro, then focuses back on Keith, “Do you know what they do to rebels?” Champion hisses.

“No, not particularly,” Keith says, he takes a cautious step back. He needs space to properly wield his sword. Champion starts to follow him then stops, seeming to finally register the impending violence of the situation. Champion takes his own step back. Keith relaxes his grip, but doesn’t take his hand off his bayard. He won’t start a fight if Champion doesn’t.

Champion shakes his head, pulling on his forelock in a stress move Keith recognizes from Shiro, “The lucky ones are executed immediately.” His voice has gone low and quiet, “The interesting ones go to the druids. The examples are sent to the arena. Drugged up to the point they’re either too weak to fight or would tear their own mother to shreds.” That sounds like personal experience. Keith looks back at Shiro. Was killing the Empire’s examples something he had to do? He can’t tell from his face, “Keith, rebels die horrible deaths.” Champion continues, he doesn’t sound angry anymore, more borderline distraught. Is he worried about Keith’s safety? Oh.

Keith lets go of his bayard and steps forward. Ignoring Shiro’s hissing at him to stop, he places a hand gently on the front of Champion’s shoulder. Champion looks to his hand, to his face, and back again, “I am a paladin of Voltron. Defending the Universe from the likes of the Empire is my job.” He’d do it even if it wasn’t, but job was harder to argue against.

Champion’s hand reaches up and clasps his own, “You’re going to die, if you fight them.” He says, almost pleading.

Keith smiles up at him reassuringly, “I’m a little better armed than most.” To put it mildly, “When we get off planet, I’ll show you.” Voltron was probably still hibernating in his universe. Without that weapon, he can see how the fight might look hopeless. Though that hasn’t stopped the Blade.

Champion doesn’t believe him. He looks over Keith’s shoulder at Shiro and snarls, “You’re going to get him killed.”

Shiro hesitates a moment longer than Keith would like before replying, “Keith makes his own choices.” He does. Shiro may have given him the message that his help was needed, but he’s the one who jumped at the call.

“You should have talked him out of it,” Champion hisses back.

Shiro grimaces at that accusation. Keith yanks his hand free, jabbing a finger into Champion’s chest, “Shiro’s not responsible for me fighting the Empire. I chose to risk my life for the greater good, and you don’t get a say in that.” His sympathy for Champion’s concern has evaporated. He won’t be guilted out of doing what’s right.

“You’re going to die,” Champion repeats, hands falling to his sides.

“That’s my decision,” Keith replies, glaring at him.

Champion deflates when faced with his anger. Looking away.

“…right. Sooo, anyone want to play another round of hearts?” Takashi asks.

They play several more boring but blessedly silent games.

Keith’s temper has cooled by the second round of hearts. Enough so, that he can look over at Champion’s rotating expressions of upset or guilt and feel bad for him again.

He’s really convinced that Keith’s going to die. How can he judge too harshly, when he’d do the same in his position? If Takashi was talking about going to Kerberos despite knowing what was going to happen, he’d have gotten pretty pissed too. Didn’t matter if Takashi wasn’t his Shiro. They shared the history and pieces of personality that made him fall in love with Shiro in the first place. It’s impossible not to care about his well being. No, he’s pretty much has to forgive Champion. That or he’d be a massive hypocrite. Doesn’t mean he’s going to apologize. Asserting his ability to make his own decisions isn’t anything to feel sorry for.

He doesn’t know who starts it, but someone yawns and suddenly they are all doing it. It’s gotten pretty late. The sky outside long ago gave up even a hint of the sun. “I’m out.” Keith lays down his cards. He’d actually had a good hand for once, but he’s tired and the floor isn’t going to get less hard the longer he stays up.

“Sleep in here,” Shiro says, while rounding up all the cards. Nothings been said, but looks like everyone’s been ready to turn in for a while. Someone just had to go first.

“That the plan,” Keith replies. He’s seen way to many horror movies, to wander off in the abandoned building on his own. There might be alien hobos after his kidneys out there.

Keith stands up and looks around. Everywhere looks equally uncomfortable. Despite his survivalist reputation, he’s always managed to make sure he at least has a broken down couch to sleep on. Bruised hipbones and waking up sore aren’t worth saving a little bit of time by not scanning around apartment dumpsters for thrown out furniture.

“You can sleep on my lap if you want,” Champion says from behind him. The words sound like a come one, but when he turns, Champion is just looking at him. No quirked eyebrows or shit eating grin, that come with Shiro’s really obvious suggestive remarks, “I know how you hate sleeping on the floor,” He almost says yes, both because Champion is right about his hatred and as a sign that he’s forgiven the man, but from the corner of his eye, he catches the way Shiro has gritted his teeth.

“Thanks, but I think Shiro would miss having his teddy bear,” Keith says instead. He doesn’t know what Shiro’s problem with the Champion is, but he’s not going to do things that make him obviously uncomfortable just because they haven’t had a chance to talk about it yet.

Champion hides it well, but Keith has practice at reading Shirogane facial expressions. He still thinks he’s in the doghouse.

Their sleeping arrangements are the best they can make of a bad situation. Takashi rolls up his officer jacket in a makeshift pillow and crashes on his own in the cleanest spot he can find. Shiro picks a wall with a good view of the door, and Keith curls up in his lap as promised. Champion ends up along the same wall, about five feet away. Shiro has trouble sleeping if he can’t see the entrances of a room. He’s not surprised Champion’s the same way.

Despite his exhaustion, Keith has trouble falling asleep. Champion keeps looking over at him sadly whenever he thinks Keith’s eyes are closed. It hurts his heart to see, and makes his brain whirl with thoughts. He hasn’t asked, but the prisoner uniform Champion wears matches the one Keith found Shiro in. The only reasonable conclusion is that in his universe, he hasn’t escaped the Galra.

When Shiro first came back, he put on a brave face to lead their nascent team, but behind closed doors, he’d just wanted to hold and be held. He’d been so starved for kind touches, that on their days off they could lay together for hours doing nothing at all. Shiro is better now. He no longer needs those long periods of time except on very rare stressful occasions. The Champion, though, he’s just been freed from his cell for the first time in who knows how long, and he’s still alone.

Keith sighs, “Hey,” Keith smiles softly as the Champion looks over to him. He wiggles an arm free from Shiro’s hold, “You don’t have to sleep all the way over there,” He pats the ground beside them, “Come over here, and you can hold my hand while we sleep,” It’s a pitiful offering, but Champion looks at Keith like he just offered him the world. He scoots over and picks up Keith’s hand without hesitation. Holding it with both of his own. There we go, that’s better, “Night,” Keith settles against Shiro again, purposefully not looking up to see what Shiro thinks of this development. They’ll talk in private tomorrow. He needs to establish what boundaries with Shiro’s doubles will make him comfortable, but for now, they’ll settle for this. A little comfort for another hurt soul. Shiro can deal for one night.

Next >

#Sheith #shiro #keith #voltron #Three Shiros and A Keith

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dothewrite · 8 years

Text

Ringleaders - Prologue.

Here is the original ask for this prompt. Here is the announcement for this project!

Chapter One. Chapter Two.

‘HOW BLIND ARE YOU? HOW MUCH DO YOU REALLY SEE? IF YOU WANT TO LOOK AT SOMETHING OTHER THAN A POLITICIAN’S ARSE AND YOUR EMPTY POCKETS, GOOGLE US AT ‘YOUTH AGENDA’. WE’LL SHOW YOU WHAT IT’S LIKE PAST THE RABBIT HOLE.’

It’s quite a long catchphrase, but Kuroo knows that the very point is that they’re not trying to sell anything. Anyone who doesn’t take the time to read through the whole thing on the obscenely large billboard probably wouldn’t be what they were looking for, and all in all, he thinks it’s an effective message to those who’re searching for something new in their lives. Something different; something just like what’s past the figurative rabbit hole.

Of course, there isn’t a rabbit hole. There’s only the box that people like to wear about their heads, cover their ears and peer through the little cut-out slits in the cardboard and pretend that just because there’s built in elevator music in that helmet of theirs that everything’s fine.

He kicks a pebble to the side and watches it fall into the water beside him with an unceremonious plop. No skips, no fancy ripples, just a rock sinking to the bottom of the harbor because someone kicked it halfheartedly with their foot. It’s an almost philosophically stupid wonder how some people can expect to soar through the skies with just a simple nudge, too complacent to even throw their arm back to toss the stone.

“Oi, you there,” Kuroo swivels his head around at the voice, fingers still rubbing against each other in the warmth of his coat pockets. It’s a chilly day today, and it’s about to get a little warmer. “You that fucker who took out Franker last week?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. What do you want?”

The man, heavily built but not overly clumsy, Kuroo’s eyes focus on the jagged muscles bulging out from those biceps and at odd areas of his arms and torso- not training then, he decides, but street fighting in all the wrong positions. The man’s walking closer, each heavy step accentuated by a pair of flashy metal tipped boots, and Kuroo turns to face him properly, his back left for the water to guard.

“Want to make things even between the two o’ ye. You left him bleeding out in front of a hospital. Your skinny ass thinks you can flip us off like that and walk away scot free?”

“Apparently not,” Kuroo answers smoothly, a small grin on his face that looks more on the rough side of grim than actually entertained. The man doesn’t seem to notice however, his brows still surly and his words rough, so Kuroo continues. “I left him in front of a hospital, didn’t I? At least it wasn’t a dumpster. I could have charged for delivery.”

“You piece of shit-”

Kuroo dodges the wild, uncontrolled swing at his face with a sudden throw of his body to the left, and landing on one arm, he pushes himself up enough to level a harsh kick at the man’s abdomen. It throws the bulk of the man back with a harsh grunt, but the precise blow to the kidney doesn’t stop him. The large man lurches forward again, and Kuroo has to roll forwards over his head before he’s pummeled into the ground. Ignoring the way his palms whine underneath his weight and the bloodied marks from the harsh grain of the cement floor, he swings out a leg to knock the man’s feet from underneath him and when the hulking figure falls to the ground with a thundering smack, Kuroo pulls his right fist out from his pocket and aims at the crooked nose and the dilated eyes. He marks it, and punches, silver knuckleduster and all with the full momentum of his right side, and the man cries out in agony from underneath him, clutching at his face whilst trying to throw Kuroo off with wild twists of his pelvis. Kuroo finds it a little inconvenient, trying to reach a good angle to punch at while someone’s writhing underneath him, so with metal plated soles of his own, he grinds his heel into the man’s groin with a punctuated shove before standing up and pushing his foot against the thug’s windpipe. One more punch for good measure, just in case he starts to recover most of his vision.

The man’s face is almost caved in on itself, nose completely crushed and the sockets of his eyes bruised from the brutal force of bare, heavy metal, and Kuroo steps down a little harder on the man’s throat to let the effect truly bring itself out.

“Don’t bother us again, got it?” Kuroo’s chest is heaving from exertion when he delivers his message. The pumps of adrenaline that he feels gushing through his arteries light him on fire on the inside, and he ignores the fact that his fists are shaking in their hovering position.

“I-I dinnd-”

“Yes you did,” and there’s a crunch of bone- he hopes for the man’s sake that it’s his collarbone and not his actual throat. He can’t always control the precision of his feet, unfortunately, but he’s learned from experience that an inch or two off the mark doesn’t make too much of a difference. “I don’t give a fuck who hired you, but you stay away from our people, and we stay away from you. Buying them out won’t work, understand?”

If he could still breathe properly, the man would laugh. Instead it comes out as a bloody gurgle, a strained choke against the weight of a whole leg and Kuroo watches intently as the man’s fingers start to curl into fists. “Erryone w-wants money,” he grins manically at his captor, “if we dun buy ‘em out, sumbuddy else ‘ll.”

Kuroo steps off the man, who lets out a heaving groan once oxygen starts flowing into his brain again, and pushes his hands back into his pockets.

“They’ll try, yeah,” he snaps at the prone figure beneath him, the man who, like so many other people in this god-forsaken city, would sell their own face for some coin in their pockets, “but clearly, none of you have experienced it.”

The thug holds a bruised hand to his equally bruised face and eyes Kuroo venomously. Kuroo retaliates by nudging the prone body a little closer to the right with the tip of his shoe.

“Exprrenced wut?”

Kuroo is no longer looking at the man. There’s a large ship that’s sailing into the busy port at this time of day, on this day of the week, and he turns his head to watch it calmly as the large, private ship floats along the water with thousands of tonnes of private cargo.

“Something to believe in,” he answers. There’s no warning whatsoever when he lifts his foot up and with a long-suffering heave, he kicks the man into the murky water before he can attempt a response.

And the body sinks, with an unceremonious plop, just like a large pebble.

Kuroo’s hands are a little sticky with blood, even though some’s his and some isn’t. Just another jacket to wash out when he gets home, he supposes, and rubs his wrist against the fine fabric. Today’s work is just about done, with the last threads tied up and a man threatened within an inch of his life, he thinks he’s bought them another few months before someone tries again. Or rather, the truth is that it’s always the same someone. Just in the form of different paid groups, time and time again like a nursery rhyme on loop.

“You always were the best fighter,” another voice slides out from behind a large cargo box, but Kuroo relaxes at this one. This one, he recognizes. “Too bad making you take on these odd jobs is like pulling teeth.”

“They’re hard,” he groans, rolling his shoulders in a way that makes his coat pinch underneath his arms, “and you know I’m not the best fighter. I just think when I fight. You’ve got the strongest punch. ‘Falcon Punch!!!’” He tries to imitate with a terrible shounen voice. It doesn’t work, and his attempt at humour sounds dry as dust to his own ears.

Oikawa strides into full view, as he always does- to him there’s no point in doing his hair perfectly if he’s just going to be mysterious and slink around in the shadows. That’s Akaashi’s job. Just to make a point, he runs a smooth, pale hand through his artfully coiffed locks and levels Kuroo with a huffy stare. “Yes, if you give me a man who’s standing stock still then sure, I have the strongest punch. But if we’re counting it like that then clearly it’s Ushiwaka. He’s literally a walking combat machine. All fight and no soul.”

Kuroo laughs. “You’re still calling him that? He’s going to hate you a little more each time.”

“Pfft, he doesn’t hate me,” Oikawa waves it off, a sly smile starting to creep up onto his handsome face, “and who’s going to tell? You?”

“If I’m having a bad day, probably.” Oikawa smacks him on the arm for the comment and Kuroo laughs even harder.

“Y’know, that isn’t half as bad as I thought it’d be.”

“What, the billboard?”

“Yeah. It’s not exactly Jake from State Farm, but it delivers the message. All of it.” There’s a poignant pause before Oikawa sighs dramatically. “You’re good at this.”

“I’m saving this moment for my patronus. A compliment from Oikawa Tooru himself.”

“You’re never getting your acceptance letter, Kuroo, you should look in the mirror more often.”

“Alright then, and neither will you your alien contact. Two million light years and they end up talking to you?”

“Oookay, now it’s on-”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m turning it back off,” Kuroo grins maddeningly and pats Oikawa roughly on the back, sending him forward a few steps from the force of it. “Stick around and see who reads it, alright? I’m gonna head back first.”

His friend gives him a solid nod and Kuroo gives a parting one of his own. The whole shipyard they’d chosen for this operation is a wide stretch away from the nearest taxi stand, but it does give him some time to calm down so he doesn’t mind the ache of his calves as much. His hands are no longer shaking, but the grin slips off more and more with each step he takes away from his colleague. Deep breaths, in and out, a good, long stare at the grey, cumulonimbus-filled sky and he can feel the pumping of his heart slow and his mind clear itself from the irrational urge to break someone’s spine and enjoy it.

The blood on his hands is completely dry; uncomfortable, brittle flakes of iron stains his knuckles and Kuroo remembers why he hates these jobs so.

Once he sees someone’s face bleeding and broken, the hardest thing for him isn’t to win. It’s to stop.

#kuroo tetsurou #oikawa tooru #sfw #ringleaders #anarchist au #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu #i writes the haikyuu #project fic

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careergrowthblog · 7 years

Text

Teachers describe their worst injury at work

For some reason, when I ask a question about people’s worst experiences I get far more clear answers to the question, alongside complaints about that I have a sinister agenda and demands that teachers be silent.

My latest question was:

What’s the worst injury you’ve suffered while working as a teacher?

I’ve had fewer complaints about this one, although somebody did sarcastically ask why I didn’t ask for people’s best injury. I’ve ignored the many responses where people discussed damage that was only to their pride, credibility or dreams. I haven’t included discussion of mental health as that’s been covered in previous posts. Also most (but not all) of the people telling me about their paper cuts have been left out. As ever, I followed up the more suspicious ones, but may still have been fooled. The thread can be found here.

I shot myself in the arm… though it wasn’t with a firearm. With the top of an exploding 2 L[itre] bottle. Lab coat had the bloodstains to prove it. I was utterly, utterly mind-bendingly stupid and learned a very great deal in about a third of a second

30 mini whiteboards fell out of cupboard onto my head – 1 at a time – 4 hrs in A&E and head glued back together – very painful … my fault for not putting them away properly

Caught a ring on a door handle and it cut into my finger so deeply it needed to be cut off by a mechanic at the garage across the road.

Paper cut… on my eyeball. Child did it by accident. It was horrific! Needed anaesthetic drops for a few days.

Basketball hit me full in the mouth…whilst I had a whistle in it…lost two teeth. The cost of getting them replaced was the real shock of the whole ordeal. My savings took as much damage as my mouth did.

Last Friday of this half-term – college laptop trolly rolled into my 2 biggest toes on left foot. Same foot as plantar fasciitis & Achilles tendinitis issues. I didn’t use the ‘f’ word as student was with me.

Hypermobility + a few months of sitting on tiny children’s chairs caused lower-back go into semi-permanent spasm. Had to ask for adult chair Policy was for child-centred classrooms with no adult desk or chairs- teachers to be ‘working with group or individuals at all times’ Was told ‘If we give a teacher a chair, the problem with that is that they will sit down and not get up from it’ So, the ideal was for T[eacher] to stand or kneel near a table, or sit on a child’s chair, or sit on the floor.

As new H[ead]T[eacher], went to U[pper]K[ey]S[tage]2 Xmas party, vaulted over bench to leave hall and removed 4 square inches of skin from bald head on door frame. Was away at a meeting with the L.A. the next day, by the evening local rumours were that I was in hospital with head injuries

1) Staple in my finger. 2) Banged my knee a few times.3) Catching my arm on door handles.4) Heart attack.5) Trapping my finger in a drawer.

1) got tangled in cables like a giant fly in a spider web 2) slipped down a muddy slope in front of the entire school while on bus duty. Massive bruising and huge embarrassment both times. Although a kind Year 11 helped me up out of the mud & didn’t laugh while the other 1499 students pissed themselves.

nearly lost my left hand in a horrendous accident on school trip! 10 ops later it’s as good as it will be. there’s the proof. …had hold of the seat in front as the coach rolled and then slid down m6… window broke…. Had to have it stitched into my stomach for 4 weeks for a flap to cover I know even I gulped when the doc suggested it! I was a ‘little teapot for a month. it was a nightmare!! They needed the blood vessels to join… 9 hour op too! I should add the NUT were fab … Their solicitor was superb

Slipped a disc lifting student into water ambulance during school trip to Venice. Contracted TB (possibly not at school, but sounds good).

I was hit by falling scaffolding once.

Grade 3 tear of gastrocnemius. Happened on sports day. Exactly coincided with pistol to start 100 m[e]t[re]s. I thought I had been shot. True story.

Broke a burette off in my thumb last year and severed a nerve. Still no feeling in it.

Definitely a student moving chair onto foot whilst sat on it

Concussion- could see children messing around for TA & glared at them-ch[ildre]n stopped- missed footing on last 5 steps…cue pratfall/f[ore]w[ar]d roll

Exhausted by overworking and unreasonable demands, I completely missed a step and fell down stairs. Thought “Didn’t get a degree for this”.

Pulled my back celebrating a spectacular comeback by the Y[ear] 8 football team was coaching back in the day. Took 3 month’s chiropractic to sort.

Missed a step covered in a drift of leaves & fell full length.Usual hilarity from students tempered by fact that I was 8 months pregnant.

Broke a finger attempting to stop a rugby ball from hitting a spectator. Still hit her, but on the back rather than on the head.

Crashed my motorcycle on the way to school. Still got in. My form saw the blood on my leg. Got ambulance. Came back from hospital to teach.

Ruptured my thigh muscle taking a penalty against a year 7 on lunch duty. Went top corner though so not all bad [this was from my former form tutor, but I’m assuming I’m not implicated as it was “1st year” not “year 7” back then]

Prolapsed disk when the caretaker used the wrong polish on the floor turning it into a skating rink!

Husband snapped achilles tendon, teaching football on astros…

Temporarily blinded as lid came off the copydex mid shake. Shouted “Shit!” loudly which shocked kids more than my eyes covered in glue.

Spine surgery from writing too many schemes of work without good back support. I took on a dept[artment] in 2nd y[ea]r of career, managed all of SLT and there was nothing. Had an op in 2009 and learned a lot about life in that year!

Accidental broken toe. Me vs. heavy box of music stands. Helpful child said ‘you can swear if you like miss – looked like it hurt’. It did.

I scraped my shin and badly injured my pride falling-off a chair balanced on a table, as I put up a display… as a class quietly worked… and I dislocated my knee in a Staff Vs Parents hockey match.

Almost broke fingers and arm, grassboarding down a slope on y[ea]r 7 activity holiday session!

being bitten. Also having a chair leg land on my foot (sandals

Molten jelly baby flew out of boiling tube onto my hand during open evening demo. I kept smiling

Sort of injury, kidney stones from not drinking enough water during school day. Agony for 2 days. Now I know opioids REALLY work.

slipped on a wet corridor and broke a finger pride also suffered considerable injury. After year 11 stopped convulsing with laughter following my very slapstick slip they did show great concern and sympathy

Sewed through my finger on a sewing machine whilst helping Year 11. Just about managed not to bleed on her coursework!

Ice skating lesson with a school group in 1988 & stuck the rear right boot spike through my left boot. Stab wound & 2 broken bones in foot!

Fractured my arm after falling off a ladder putting Christmas dec[oration]s up or scalded my foot after dropping an urn of hot water.

Electric shocks from various electricity experiments, and falling over and hurting my thumb.

Ran a ski trip to Italy and chair lift bar fell on my head, lots of blood and was taken down the slope in the blood-wagon. Tried to walk through a swing door which was normally well oiled, unfortunately this time it wasn’t and I went head first into the glass!

Stitches in a finger due to a stubborn classroom locker. Expletives were used. Entire Year 4 class were shocked. Hospital swiftly attended.

cracked patella jumping rope with 3rd graders

Mild concussion. Projector screen fell from roof hit me on head.

A bruised backside when I slipped on ice taking Tutor group to Xmas carol service. They kindly picked me up.

Slipped a disc standing up from my chair whilst teaching a PSHE lesson. Needed [other teachers] to carry me away from class!!

Fell off a table whilst putting up a display. Did my knee good and proper

I stapled my finger when putting up a display. Ive also caught thousands of colds (but that’s illness not injury).

My funniest injury at sch[ool]: stapled my fingers together whilst holding a stapler & teaching.

Electric shock off a whiteboard…it certainly made me jump!!

Torn my knee ligaments jumping on a trampoline

During my PGCE I dislocated my shoulder from stopping a pass in a lunchtime basketball game.

Fractured my humerus, two ribs and cut my eyebrow… I fell

Trapped arm in a door while restraining a student (Special needs School) [went to] A&E

Regularly I have bruises mid thigh from walking into tables

I slipped in the dining hall on a sausage and did a strange somersault, a plate crashed to the floor bounced up & and sliced open my cheek

Tripped up stairs on the way to a lesson, laptop went flying, smashed my head on the handrail, knocked myself out, in front of students

Punched in the temple by a y[ear] 8 boy. Headbutted (didn’t connect) by an angry y[ear] 11. Wallet nicked by a y[ear] 11 that I had spent hours supporting.

Lice, scabies and flea bites. All in a days work. Oh yes. And a tub of black powder paint with no lid, fell off a shelf on my head. Scary sight.

Torn [anterior cruciate ligament] in right knee whilst separating two Year 9 boys fighting!

Once thought it good idea to remove OHP bulb immediately after it blew. Fingerprints returned after a few months

I ripped a muscle in my lower back moving a filing cabinet. Had waited for the site agent for 5 days and got tired of waiting. won’t make the mistake again, will just wait nicely!

Bumped into a table (fixed to the floor). Bruise on my thigh is about 10 cm long, 5 cm high. Done this almost every month, for 20 y[ears].

Broke a tooth on school pitta bread…

Dropped a recycling bin on my foot and lost a toenail.

Got slapped around the face and then kicked twice one morning.

Burnt most of my hand when I didn’t use a long enough fuse for a flash powder demonstration

I fell off my bike in front of the main entrance, causing moderate but prolonged reputational damage.

Put a staple through my finger while putting up a display.

Badly cut knee and ripped suit after attempting to show Y[ear] 6 boys,playing football on the playground, ‘how it’s done’.

Took an “accidentally released” rounders bat to the gentleman’s area. If I wasn’t the recipient it would have been funny.

Partially tore ligaments while mucking about being a wolf in the playground

Tripped on cracked car park tarmac, burst knee wide open. Lots of stitches

I broke my foot at 7am at school on a dodgy paving slab and then walked around on it for the rest of the day before getting an X-ray. I also once dropped molten hot sulfur on my hand while doing a demo,had to teach the rest of my lesson with my hand in a bowl of cold water

Fell 2 steps walking down unlit stairs and twisted ankle. Had an xray and 2 days off work.

Cut my finger open whilst shutting a toilet door I spotted was ajar. Kid in my class provided me with loo roll from his bag that he kept there with a torch in case he needed to go for a poo in the dark! Not sure which event was the weirdest.

Fell off a chair doing a display- Huge bruise black on arm…despite just saying to students always use a chair for its intended purpose!

I broke my ankle in the middle of one of my [physical education] classes.

Broke bone in coccyx. Also got pneumonia from sewage has when basement flooded. Illness rather than injury really.

My eye got cut from a student’s nail when playing basketball with them. Lost a high % of peripheral vision in my right eye.

I’ve suffered a cut lip when a child I was sitting next to shot his hand up a little enthusiastically. Still think he did it on purpose

There have been a couple of reasonably serious injuries in the staff-sixth form football. Not to me though.

Banging my head – It’s not easy being a giant.

[From a school business manager] There was the time I was walking along a corridor & a teacher opened an outward opening door & pole-axed me. They were mortified..

Got punched by a parent, but wasn’t injured, and in retrospect she was probably in the right. Who was I to tell her son to tuck in his shirt?

Shut the filing cabinet in my classroom and trapped my nipple in it. No idea how I managed that..

Teachers describe their worst injury at work published first on http://ift.tt/2uVElOo

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