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interact-if · 3 years

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Taking the spotlight for Day 6... Lucirene!

Lucirene, author of An Angel’s Song

Latino Heritage Month Featured Author

In the forest of Bres an otherworldly sickness corrodes the soil and changes the creatures within. “A parting gift from the fallen angels” say the citizens of the Hyaku Region and the mark on your hand confirms it.

Though the scent travelling in the air is sweet and enticing everyone knows better than to get closer. But the mark, it pulses, it burns, the pain spreading as fast as the corruption of the forest does.

Your masters are calling, and it seems like this time you cannot escape them.

An Angel’s Song Demo | Author’s Ko-fi | Author’s Patreon | Read more [here]

Tags: dark fantasy, romance

(INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT!)

Q1: So, tell us a little bit about the projects you’re working on!

I have so many, but the only one public is An Angel’s Song. It’s, more than anything, a story about grief, loneliness and overcoming it all while navigating a hostile environment and discovering long lost secrets about the Divine and about the MC’s country. That one is very cathartic for me to make because of the themes, I feel like I’m working through a lot of feelings I didn’t even realize I had by writing it.

The next one is also an IF and it focuses on comedy, adventure and character interaction. It’s supposed to be more lighthearted, more fun, but knowing me… I don’t know if it’ll stay that way. Basically, it goes: A Captain’s boat falls prey to the storms and the strange creatures living under the sea, and they and their crew end up washing ashore an icy, snowy country. I already have the main cast written down and they have so much synergy, it’s amazing.

And the last one I’ll talk about (a traditional novel) actually happens in the same setting as my second IF, but many, many years before, when their local deity/guardian was born. It’s more of a romance-fantasy than anything, a love story between a Goddess and a half-dragon, however it also showcases many of the situations the people had to navigate and face before their country could become the place you’ll see in my second IF.

Q2: What excites you most about using interactive fiction? What are some of the biggest challenges?

What I like most definitely is how much freedom we have as authors. Of course, one is constrained by one’s ability to code but I think, for the most part, we can do so many things, reach an entirely new level of immersion that would not be possible with a regular novel. It’s amazing how sometimes I’m reading something and get so into it, feel so connected to the MC I feel dread when they do, panic when they have to make a choice that will clearly impact a lot of people in their world. With IF you can really feel like you’re part of the story.

Another thing I like is being able to explore other paths with my writing. Like for example, what if the MC had done this instead of that? How would that have affected their relationships, their world state? Writing branches is a lot of work, especially because they could change so many things, but it feels oddly satisfying when you do decide to include them.

Challenges… Coding, mainly. I feel like a lot of new aspiring IF authors are a bit afraid of coding and I can understand that, especially since, had it not been for the help of the community, I would have taken way longer to actually start using Twine. Hopefully with time for resources come up and it becomes less daunting.

I don’t know if any other author feels the same way but, though I think branching is a blessing, it is also a curse. I can only write the same conversation so many times, I mean I know I’m writing it in different tones and sometimes with different results but it gets frustrating after a while because it feels like you’re stuck, like you’re not progressing at all.

Another one would definitely be finding a balance between reader interaction and just following your vision. Since it’s IF at times I feel like I have to meet a quota of branches or ways in which you can react, sometimes I also find it difficult to make the MC feel like a real person instead of a reader-insert. I’m working on that.

Q3: What has been something in your project you’ve had to do a weird amount of research for?

That’s a difficult one… I don’t know if I would consider it weird but I do tend to investigate a lot about fashion, especially when designing the main outfits of the characters. I spend hours trying to find out what colors were used back then, what they meant, who was allowed to use them. I have this little image with some palettes for kimonos depending on the season.

I also spend too much time coming up with names, especially for places. Like I look up names of places that already exist, what they mean, I try to investigate if the words that I want to use make sense, then I panic because I can’t find anything, but I think that’s usual for writers. I also spent more time than necessary researching for the name of a tree that you will see way later in the book, which no one will probably notice what the name of the tree means or what it symbolizes but it makes me happy.

Honestly, I feel like the amount of research I have had to do has not been particularly weird? If anything at times I think I should research more, even if some aspects of Japanese culture will not apply to Kyou.

Q4: Which of your characters is most like you? How?

The initial version of the MC from An Angel’s Song, which I miss dearly since they had more personality. They were autistic coded too, and I hope some traces of that still remain. Apart from that I feel like all of the characters from the main cast share something with me, even if their experiences are, of course, more dramatic than my own.

A lot of them have issues with a paternal figure or an absent mother, which also resonates with me. Some of Saori’s traits draw inspiration from ways in which I talked or acted before I became a little better at masking, before I became more self-aware. Hazuki being emotional and caring, K being a bit clingy but devoted, Masa having a temper yet loyal, Miwa being friendly but reluctant to open up beyond surface level information. I think those things describe me.

There’s also Rei but I don’t think I’m writing her book anytime soon. She’s someone that’s very family oriented, she’s a bit temperamental but she means well and she’s not afraid to speak her mind. Now that I think about it, maybe Rei is more the person I want to become.

Q5: Does your heritage influence your characters as you create them? (How? Why or why not?)

I’ve been living in Venezuela my whole life so I think so, even if most of the time I don’t even notice it. I believe that this happens especially in regards to relationships because people in Venezuela are very family oriented and also, from what I’ve experienced, they form strong bonds with their neighbors, which creates this strong sense of community —sometimes it goes well, sometimes it doesn’t, but my mom and her friends always make at least some friends in their neighborhoods and they gossip with some coffee about the happenings of the rest—. So when it comes to writing a character it is very important to me to make an emphasis on family relationships because those are a strong part of my culture, of my identity.

In An Angel’s Song you have the main cast having issues or conflicting emotions about one or multiple members of their family, which influence their behavior and their outlook on life, but for the most part they are (or will be) able to form similar relationships with people that are not related to them, or to work towards restoring that relationship, transforming it into something healthier.

In my other books family dynamics are also immensely important. For example, I’m going to mention Rei again because I love her. So, Rei has a sister named Rin, and they are both very close, even if they haven’t spent much time together. Their bond and trust in each other helps them overcome a lot of obstacles and they rely on each other when they need support or encouragement. Rei also has other people that she thinks of as siblings, and restoring that relationship with them is one of her main goals. There’s also this recurring guilt she feels at leaving her birth family and her home to explore, because to her, families are supposed to stay together.

Another aspect that I think influences my writing is religion, even if I wasn’t raised in a particularly religious household nor do I belong to any religion. Religion is a big deal in this country, we have so many events and holidays relating to religious figures. I remember when I was very young I loved going to one of the churches here because the Virgin of that town had a building filled with pretty clothes to dress her with.

So, in that vein, I try to think about the character’s relationship with religion, do they believe in the Gods? Do they trust them? Do they follow local deities or prefer the main pantheon? How does this religion shape the way people interact with each other and the world? In regards to characters that are Venezuelan or Venezuelan-coded… I do have a few that are Venezuelan, but I don’t think I’m going to be releasing their stories soon, so I’ll keep it quiet for now.

Q6: What is something you love to see in interactive fiction?

People being passionate about their work! This isn’t something exclusive to IF, but it is something that I love seeing. I also like seeing the different ways people innovate within the genre. I feel like sometimes, especially with newer writers, there is this idea that an IF has to subscribe to a specific format and that’s simply not true. If you don’t want to use a stat system you don’t have to, if you want to add combat then go ahead, if you would prefer to write an MC that’s already pretty pre-established (which is something that I personally want to try) then there’s nothing stopping you and I encourage you to give it a go. IF is very versatile and it’s wrong to try and fit authors into a box, especially if they want to bring something new into our little corner of the internet.

Q7: Any advice to give?

In general, I advise people to have fun writing, to not worry so much about how good it is, about if people will like it. Writing, at the end of the day, ends up being a pretty solitary activity and having those thoughts in your head too long will make you spiral. Be kind to yourself, be open to feedback when it comes (and learn to distinguish constructive feedback from destructive feedback) and enjoy the exploration of your world and characters.

You are not alone in all of this. If you can, join a group of writers you can talk with, exchange ideas, get feedback from or just exchange memes (the ultimate bonding experience). Don’t be afraid, you’re not alone.

#if: events #latino heritage month #latino authors #interactive fiction #cyoa #choose your own adventure #choose your story

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ilovemesomekillianjones · 4 years

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Navigating the Storm (1/4)

Summary: Emma Swan navigates the aftermath of Neverland by trying to deal with everything the way she always has, by locking all her feelings away. Between having to share Henry with two other people now, her parents confession in the Echo Caves, her parents pushing her towards a man she has no interest in, and feelings for another man that she never expected to feel, Emma is at the end of her rope. *Post Neverland - No Curse*

Author’s Note: Thank you to my friend @hollyethecurious for beta reading this story for me! I have had this written for about three months now and have finally put on the finishing touches. This is part 1 of 4 - I will post a chapter a week. Hope you guys enjoy!

Rated M 4.5K ao3 ffnet Under the cut, promise

It had been exactly two weeks since they’d stepped foot back in Storybrooke, since bringing Henry home safely from Neverland. Two weeks in which Emma Swan had had very few chances to just be, to just breathe. Each breath felt like it was choked by the need to scream or cry. Two weeks of restless nights and emotionally fraught days; parents urging her toward a man she did not want, her mom wanting a new baby, another mom wanting her baby, not that she held anything against Regina. Henry was as much Regina’s as he was hers, she knew that, but that didn’t mean it didn’t weigh heavily on her soul. And of course there was Neal, who had been an ever-present thorn in her side during the last two weeks.

Emma wanted to blame everything on Neal, it would be so easy, but she couldn’t do that, there was rarely only one person to blame. She had to take some responsibility, too. He’d been bugging her about giving their relationship another shot, about putting aside the past to make a better future for Henry. Each time, Neal’s words would hit the solid mass of her thick skull and bounce right off, while simultaneously invoking a silent wrath in her being. What the everloving fuck was he thinking? How could the two of them being together be good for anyone? It didn’t help that her parents both still thought Neal was a saint. It didn’t help that each time they unwittingly made little comments about her giving him a chance, it felt like a little more of the world weighed on her shoulders.

Each morning she dragged her feet getting out of bed, if only to delay dealing with the barrage of shit she didn’t want to hear about or deal with. Of course, if she was honest with herself, she’d admit the reason she was feeling like this was because she was effectively not dealing with any of it. But why choose now to be honest with herself, she’d been content to ignore every other issue she’d dodged in life, abandonment, intimacy, self-worth, why stop now?

Emma hadn’t felt emotional sadness like this since the days between finding out she was pregnant in prison and knowing she would have to give her baby up. Her body felt heavy, her mind felt clouded, and her soul was just… sad, there wasn’t a better word for it. She hated this feeling, and when the sadness became too overwhelming, anger often surged in, and no one needed an angry Emma Swan around. She loved her family and her family-by-extension, but she needed a break.

As she walked toward Granny’s at a molasses slow pace, hands shoved in her jacket pockets, head down, where she was meeting her parents, Neal, Henry, and Regina for a late dinner, her eyes filled with tears. She struggled to inhale air past the lump forming in her throat. A deep anger rose within her, mostly because she was pissed at herself for wanting to cry. She didn’t know how to make everyone understand what she was feeling and why she was feeling it. No one had ever taught her the healing power of communication, while growing up in foster care. As the anger finally defeated the desire to cry, Emma Swan did what all responsible folks do and locked that shit up, deep inside where no one would see it.

“I saved you a seat, Ems,” Neal offered as she entered the diner.

“Yeah, look mom, right between me and dad,” Henry piped in.

Emma glanced at the six of them, one seat between Neal and Henry, no doubt by design and one seat at the other end of the table by her dad. “Uh, I have to discuss a case with David,” she lied. And boy did that make her feel like Shittiest Mom of the Year. “I’ll come back in a few.”

Taking off her jacket, she sat next to her dad and began speaking with him about the new project they were working on to make Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department digital. There was truly nothing she needed to discuss with him right this instant, but she could not handle another manipulation by Neal, especially in front of Henry, about getting back together.

“Why don’t you go sit with Henry and Neal,” David whispered, “we can discuss this tomorrow at work.”

Sucking in a deep breath to tamp down the edge of anger that started to creep up on her, Emma realized there was a silver lining here. At least he had whispered.

“I’m perfectly fine where I’m at,” she quietly replied, affecting a sense of calm she didn’t really feel.

“Oh, honey,” her mother began in what was not a whisper, “go sit down there, let me get a picture of the three of you.”

And just like that, there was another brick piled on her shoulders. She understood that her parents really did want what was best for her. Why couldn’t they just magically understand that Neal wasn’t it? She could hear Neal trying to coax her over and her head started to spin. She really did need that break.

As she choked on the sob that wanted to escape, the bell above the entrance rang, and if she’d never experienced what being saved by the bell meant, she was right now. “Hook,” she murmured, just a little more breathlessly than strictly necessary.

“What?” Snow asked.

“Hook’s here,” Emma said. “Why don’t you join us for dinner, Hook?” Emma called over to him. He was just the buffer she needed tonight. She didn’t miss the intrigue in his eyes, which he quickly masked with a conciliatory smile that didn’t quite reach those pretty blue eyes.

“While I appreciate the offer, I don’t wish to intrude,” he answered graciously.

“You’re not intruding, we were just sitting down to eat a meal. Everyone has to eat.”

“Well, if all of their Royal Highnesses don’t mind,” he acquiesced.

“Everyone scoot one seat to their right,” Emma instructed, she didn’t expect him to sit next to Neal, not with the current state of affairs.

Snow stared at her daughter wide eyed and Emma just stared back through narrowed eyes, hoping that her expression conveyed, he did save your husband’s life.

“Ems, I thought you were going to sit with me and Henry,” Neal asked, failing to mask the irritation in his voice.

And I thought I was meeting you with the bag of watches, not the cops, Emma thought bitterly. If Neal was going to use Henry against her, he was going to be sorry. She wasn’t going to stoop to the level of using a child to get what she wanted, but she was also not going to be bulldozed by her ex.

“That’s okay, dad,” Henry intervened. “Mom can sit with her friend. How’s the fastest ship in all the realms, Captain?”

Emma beamed at her son’s cherubic nature. He was truly good. He was innocent and perfect, and she felt like she might cry again as her young son saved her again.

“She’s jolly good, m’boy,” Hook answered merrily, obviously tickled that Henry had asked about his pride and joy. Or maybe it was simply because this boy treated him with common courtesy. Hook had vowed to himself to turn over a new leaf when he’d turned his ship around to help Emma save her son, and although he knew that, most people still treated him like the pirate they’d known him to be.

“You okay, Swan?” Hook asked her quietly, as conversation started up around the table.

“I- yeah,” she said, slapping on a smile, and even though it was an effort to smile, she found that she wanted to smile for Hook. She also found that he knew she was lying.

“If you ever want to talk about it, I’ve a never ending supply of rum aboard the Jolly.”

“I might just take you up on that,” she laughed. And it felt really good to laugh.

“I thought you said you’d back off,” Neal seethed as he walked over to their end of the table.

Emma looked between the two men before quietly sounding a warning. “We do not need another pissing contest here,” she hissed.

“Contest,” Neal fumed. “There is no contest, I’m Henry’s father, he’s a home-wrecking pirate.”

Emma’s head began to swim again as she listened to Neal berate Hook, as she read between the lines of what he’d said. He felt like he deserved her because they bore a child together.

“Is everything okay?” David asked.

Emma closed her eyes and weakly shook her head no. She would lose it if her parents got involved.

“Here Neal, why don’t you take my seat,” Snow offered.

Emma shook her head no again, but apparently no one was looking at her.

“Haven’t you destroyed enough lives?” Neal asked.

Emma’s eyes shot open and she’d hit just about her limit. Her throat felt like it was almost swollen shut as that urge to scream or cry or both, came raging back.

“Haven’t you done enough damage, Hook?”

“Bae-” Hook started

“Stop calling me that!”

“Neal,” Hook corrected, “it is not my intent to come between you and Emma. I was merely accepting the invitation she offered. I did say I would back off, I didn’t say I would ignore Emma if she requested my company.”

“Back off from what?” Emma asked, feeling a little annoyed that they’d been discussing her like a - she didn’t know what.

“Swan, I merely told Ba- Neal that I would not interfere if you two decided to pursue a chance at a family with Henry.”

“I think that is very noble, Hook,” Snow inserted.

“Not now, mom.”

“Well Emma, it’s only fair that you two have a real shot, now that you’ve been reunited,” Snow argued, “and I was just saying that I think it’s noble of Hook to put his feelings for you aside to give you and Neal that chance.”

That was it, that was her limit. Chances? Reunited? FAIR? The lights flickered twice before pitching Granny’s in darkness. Emma stood up and placed both her palms flat down on the table.

“Regina,” Emma said in a ragged voice, barely containing her emotions, which she desperately wanted to contain with Henry present. “Take him home, please.”

“Come on, Henry. I have lasagna at home,” Regina said, without having to be asked again. She could feel the energy of the situation sizzling about, and she knew only too well the magical properties of raw emotion. Of course Henry instinctively knew to listen as well. “Granny’s is closed,” Regina announced, “Mayor’s orders.”

The several patrons around had the good sense to slap some money on the counter and head out.

“I love you, mom. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Henry said as he and Regina readied to leave. He came to her end of the table and gave her a hug.

“I love you too, kid,” Emma responded as she ruffled Henry’s hair, and the lights flickered back to life.

Once Henry and Regina were gone, Emma eyed her parents. She tried breathing in and out slowly. She didn’t want to fight, she didn’t want to hurt them, she didn’t want to cry. But something had to give.

“Mom, Dad,” she whispered, as she knew her voice would crack if she attempted to speak in a normal voice. “I’ve been having a really-” a broken sob overtook Emma, halting her words. Her face crumbled, tears filling her eyes and falling to her cheeks, as the full weight of what she’d been dealing with overwhelmed her.

“Oh honey,” Snow cried as she stood up to try and comfort her daughter.

Emma held up a hand and shook her head no at her mother. “Please… don’t. I have to do this.”

Snow’s face fell as her daughter rejected her, but she sat back down to comply with her daughter’s wishes.

“Go on, Emma,” her father said quietly.

Nodding her head, she took another big breath. “I’ve been having a really hard time since we came back from Neverland. I’m happy that you want a new baby, I am, but it also hurt to hear that you wanted to have a chance to experience everything we never got to, and I know that’s not your fault, but it still hurts. And I am happy that Henry has Regina, because no matter what, she really does love him. But it hurts to have to share him with her when we have a third person to share him with now, it’s less time, when I’ve already missed so much.”

“It wouldn’t be if you spent time with me and Henry,” Neal muttered.

“Goddammit, Neal!” Emma yelled, pounding her fists on the table. “You have got to stop that. I’m struggling with my parents wanting a new baby and I am struggling with sharing Henry with you. But my biggest problem, the one that eats away at me every day, is you! I can’t stand the way you try to manipulate me in front of my son, making it seem like I’m the only reason we can’t be a family. You showed up to Storybrooke with a fiancée, don’t act like you came back here to win me over or some other noble bullshit. And I can’t stand that my parents think you should be my happy ending.” Another sob choked her words and she paused to catch her breath. “You will never be my happy ending,” she yelled before leaving the diner.

Emma jogged down the walkway, unsure of where to go, but knowing she couldn’t remain in there one second longer. She didn’t want to see the looks she’d put on her parents’ faces anymore and she didn’t want to deal with Neal. After an hour of wandering, she found herself down by the icy cold shoreline. She sat down in the freezing sand and folded her arms around her legs. Resting her chin on her knees, she lamented the fool she’d made of herself and the mess she’d made of things.

“Awfully cold for camping at the beach,” Hook said.

Emma jumped so hard, it hurt her butt when she landed back in the unforgiving sand. “Jesus Christ, you scared me. Are you following me?”

“Sorry, love,” Hook apologized, holding hand and hook in the air as he always did when she went on the offensive. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. And no, I am not following you. I was up on the deck of my ship and saw your golden hair in the moonlight; wanted to make sure you don’t catch your death out here.” He handed her a blanket.

“Thank you,” she said through chattering teeth, only now realizing just how cold it was. “You probably need to invest in some warmer clothes if you’re planning to stay in Storybrooke for the winter.”

“Is that an invitation, Swan?”

She just rolled her eyes as she held her hand out to him to help her up.

“Don’t worry your heart, I am plenty hot,” he flirted, extending his hand and pulling her up.

“You are plenty full of yourself is what you are,” she laughed. “I don’t know why I ended up here. I just… I cannot go home. I should probably see if Granny has a room available. Paying her some rent is the least I could do after clearing out her customers.”

Hook scratched behind his ear, his nervous habit that always made Emma chuckle inside, because how did The Captain Hook have a nervous tic?

“You could stay on the Jolly, if you like. You know, instead of walking back to Granny’s.”

“Is that an invitation, Hook?” Emma countered.

“Actually, it is,” he said as he bowed deeply, holding his right hand out in the direction of his ship.

She decided it was probably her best option for the night. She didn’t want to see her parents at the loft, she definitely didn’t want to risk running into Neal at Granny’s, and she was far too proud to ask Regina for a crash pad. So, she followed the direction of Hook’s extended hand and headed to the Jolly.

“Thank you,” she mumbled as they headed down into the Captain’s Quarters. It was only slightly warmer below deck, and she wondered how cold he got at night.

“Perhaps a little gratitude is in order,” he smirked, pointing his finger to his lips as he had done several weeks ago.

Emma didn’t even have to think about it this time. She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and backing him up against the wall. She kissed him just as passionately as she had back on that Hell Island, but this time, she had no intent of limiting their activities to just a kiss.

“Swan,” he moaned against her mouth.

“Hmmm?” she hummed as she continued to learn his mouth and his tongue which had come out to play.

She loved the way his hook felt pressed at her back and the way his hand cupped her cheek before sliding into her hair. She took the opportunity to quickly run her hands up through his chest hair before shifting them up under his jacket to divest him of it.

“Swan, stop,” he whispered between kisses. “Stop, darling.”

Emma immediately pulled back. Like, what? “What’s the problem,” she asked defensively.

“I apologize lass, it was a poorly timed Neverland reference.”

“A… joke?” Emma’s head began spinning again. One million thoughts ran through her head as her brows furrowed and panic hit her eyes. Her mouth turned down as a strangle hold settled over her... rejection. She’d had one melt down and now she was damaged goods in his eyes. A one time thing, she’d said, and he was the one who was going to enforce it. “I have to go,” she muttered, mind already on auto pilot to the lovely land of orphans-aren’t-worthy-of-love.

Killian quickly blocked her path to the door. Bad move.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way,” she seethed. “You don- don’t want me...” Oh fuck, she panicked, the tears were going to start again. When would this roller coaster come crashing to a halt? Emma Swan, Dumpster Fire, she mused, it had a truer ring than Emma Swan, Savior.

“Don’t you tell me what I want or do not want,” Hook reprimanded. “I want you, I have wanted you, far more and far longer than you know.” He stepped into her space and lifted her chin with his hook, until she had no choice but to look into his eyes. “Make no mistake about that, love.” A fire burned between them, something palpable, and only by sheer force of will, was Hook denying himself the pleasure she’d been looking to bring him mere moments before.

Truth. Truth is what she saw in Hook’s eyes. “Then why are you pushing me away,” she asked, lips still quivering with the threat of tears.

“Because I won’t exploit your emotions, that would be the pinnacle of bad form.”

“What?”

Hook took her hand and led her to sit on his bed. “Emma, you just confessed major hurt and heartache to your parents. You obviously have unresolved issues with Bae, and you’re harboring a sadness that is ruling your emotions. Despite Neverland and everything that happened there, I have never seen you this close to the brink of despair.”

A tear slipped down as Hook brought his hand up to cup her cheek. “Look at me, Emma.”

She sniffled, but complied, as she realized he was not going to continue until she looked at him.

“You are strong, and you will get through this, but a quick romp in the sack is not part of the solution. I cannot in good conscience let you lead us down a path that you will undoubtedly regret. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me.”

“If I don’t get to tell you what you do or don’t want, then you shouldn’t get to tell me what I will or won’t regret,” she huffed.

Hook smiled at the fire that lit his Swan, and continued on, “I did promise Bae that I would back off, I thought it was best for Henry, if it was what you wanted as well.”

“I don’t want that,” Emma interrupted.

“I know you don’t want that. Tonight made that clear,” he assured her. “But tonight also showed that you have some things to work out. I am here for you, Emma, and no matter what our future holds, I will stand by your side and help you traverse all of it. But where matters of our hearts are concerned, I cannot be your port in this storm if you only plan to pack up and set sail when the tide calms and the tempest parts.”

Tears surged forth once more as she lunged at Hook again, but this time just to throw herself into his embrace. She didn’t even know why she was crying, but she knew that this, him, everything he’d just said, this was what she needed. Someone to stand by her side, someone to accept her for her, someone who knew that she had shitty baggage but was okay with it and wanted to help her lighten her load. “I just want to forget, I want five minutes where I don’t feel like everything is closing around me like a vice.”

“That’s it lass, everything is going to be okay, I promise,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her protectively. “Let it out, crying can be quite cathartic when you let it.”

Emma cried a little harder as she listened to his soothing voice. She sat up many moments later when she’d cried herself out. Wiping away her tears, she looked at the man next to her. “How did you get so wise,” she asked in a nasally, I’ve-been-crying voice.

“How’s that?”

“About crying being cathartic.”

“Ah,” Hook chuckled as he blushed a bit. “You pick up some things as the centuries pass. I may have learned that sometimes letting out pent up emotion is better than harbouring it until it blows up.”

“Thank you, Killian,” she whispered, before leaning in and tenderly placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“You called me Killian.”

The bit of awe in his eyes made Emma giggle. “That is your name, isn’t it?”

“Aye, but you know what I mean, love,” he chuckled with her.

She laughed again until she was caught in a yawn that wracked her whole body.

“Let me get you something to sleep in.” Hook went to an antique armoire and pulled out one of his shirts and a pair of long johns. “These should keep you warm.” After handing them to her, he placed a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll let you get some rest, no doubt your day has been taxing.” Then he turned to leave.

Before he could make it to the door, Emma reached out to grab his hook. He turned around to see what she needed.

“Will you stay with me?”

His eyes pleaded with her not to tempt him into breaking his word. His good form.

“I promise I won’t jump your bones, sailor.” She rolled her eyes playfully, but then she glanced away and folded her arms around herself, a vulnerability encasing her whole form before she spoke again. “I just want you to hold me,” she whispered.

His chest ached for her, for this tender side of Emma Swan that he’d never been privy to. Why would he ever deny her something as simple as holding her? “Of course, love.” After changing into something passable for sleep attire, he joined Emma in his bed.

“I know this is going to sound sappy, but today, at Granny’s, when you showed up, I was on the brink of losing my mind,” Emma confessed as she lay snuggled against his side, his right arm wrapped around her, making her feel safe. “But when I saw you, I felt like… like I might be able to get through it, like everything would be okay, if only you were with me. That’s why I asked you to stay.”

“And did it help, having me there?”

“All I know is, even though I didn’t say everything I need to get off my chest, I did get through part of it, and I am glad you were there.”

“Happy to oblige, darling.” Hook craned his neck forward to place a kiss to the crown of her head.

Pulling the blankets up to her neck, Emma shivered. “Give me your other arm, you’re warmer than these blankets.”

“My hook,” he said, holding up the shiny version of his moniker. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally harm you.”

“Then take it off,” Emma responded as though it were the most obvious answer in the world.

“I don’t think so, love.”

“Why not?” she asked, sitting up to look at him.

Hook took advantage of his freed arm and scrubbed his hand over his face. “It’s not a sight I wish you to see, it’s actually quite revolting.”

“I don’t believe for a second that any part of Killian Jones is revolting,” Emma said, gently pulling his left arm toward her.

“Swan,” he groaned.

“Killian, you saw me at my most vulnerable today, and you didn’t run for the hills. I won’t either,” she promised softly. “I don’t think you understand that what I like about you is this,” she placed her hand over his heart, “the man you are.”

Killian placed his hand over hers, where it rested on his chest and brought it to his brace. “Okay then, go ahead.”

Carefully unfastening the buckles, Emma pulled the entire brace away from his arm. She held his forearm in one hand and ran the fingers of her other hand over the scarred flesh, inspecting the damage. Although Hook was right, it wasn’t a “pretty” sight, it wasn’t nearly as bad as he would have had her believe. “Does it still hurt?”

“Aye, sometimes.”

She delicately massaged in a downward motion, from his forearm to the end of his wrist, and watched his face. He wasn’t making eye contact with her, but rather, watching her ministrations. He looked half panic stricken, like he might bolt, and half enchanted by her touch. She followed the pattern several times until he’d fully relaxed to her touch. “See, was that so bad?”

Hook’s face was a deep shade of red and his entire body had broken out in goosebumps. He didn’t know how to answer her question. He had never willingly let another person see his mutilated arm, let alone touch it. On one hand, it was that bad, he felt laid bare before her and he was still dressed. On the other hand, or hook, as it were, he felt something akin to what she had explained earlier, like he would be okay, because she was there. “I suppose not,” he murmured, all the more enamored by this enchanting woman.

“Good.” Laying back down, she wrapped both his arms around her and snuggled into him. “Much better.” Emma slept better that night than she had since they’d come home from Neverland.

Tagging some lovelies - please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

@laschatzi @qualitycoffeethings @hookedonapirate @wordsmith-storyweaver @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @wyntereyez @hooklineandswan @teamhook @let-it-raines @whimsicallyenchantedrose @spartanguard @tiganasummertree@apromisednightcap @xemmaloveskillianx @elizabeethan @cocohook38 @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @jennjenn615 @timeless-love-story @girl-in-a-tiny-box @thesschesthair @galadriel26 @ultraluckycatnd @lifeinahole27 @therooksshiningknight @kday426 @djlbg @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @lfh1226-linda @delightfully-difficult-pirate @thejollyswan @csalltheway @xarandomdreamx @vvbooklady1256 @withheartfulloflove @resident-of-storybrooke @mcakers @gingerchangeling @searchingwardrobes @snowbellewells

#cs ff #cs fan fic #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fan fiction

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route22ny · 3 years

Link

Politicians and pundits often like to compare the COVID-19 pandemic to a war. Nothing in most of our lifetimes has had the society-changing impact of the COVID-19 pandemic — and this kind of feels like the way that our parents say their parents described the Great Depression or World War II.

But World War II ended in a singular moment. Treaties were signed and people rushed into the streets in jubilation. The COVID-19 pandemic, which has plagued our lives for the last 14 months, won't end in a singular moment. There'll be no major "pandemic peace treaty," no all-out party. Perhaps, at best, there'll be a bunch of little ones. And that forces us to ask: How will this end?

The virus isn't going to disappear.

Our vaccines are incredibly safe and effective. For those who are vaccinated, they are a ticket back to "normal" life. Indeed, though rushed and poorly messaged, the CDC's guidance allowing vaccinated people to go unmasked both indoors and outdoors is based in strong science. Evidence has demonstrated that the risk of serious infection in the real world is astoundingly low, and that the viral load in the nasopharynx of vaccinated people is lower — likely explaining the reduced risk of transmission.

Yet, some people aren't getting vaccinated. And worse, the distribution of vaccinations isn't even. If, for example, unvaccinated people were evenly distributed in the population, the probability that they would be exposed to the virus if 70% of eligible people were vaccinated would be quite low. After all, 70% of the people around them would be vaccinated and therefore far less likely to pass the virus on. That's how herd — or community — immunity works. The problem though is that just like the virus itself, the behavioral scourge of vaccine rejection spreads from person to person in localized communities. So those who are unvaccinated are more likely to live among others who are unvaccinated, increasing their collective probability of infecting each other.

The likely scenario is that while communities with high vaccine uptake will get to a point where outbreaks are small, self-delimited, and rare — other communities that remain poorly vaccinated will continue to experience larger, more common, and more deadly outbreaks. And the virus will remain a looming concern in the U.S.

The other issue is viral evolution. New seasonal variants will likely spread among us every fall and winter akin to seasonal flu, which kills tens of thousands of Americans every year. Some COVID seasons will be milder, some far deadlier. And just like the flu, we'll likely need annual boosters against it.

Some things change.

But the virus isn't the pandemic's only ingredient — just the foundational one. For people who never got sick, COVID-19 still changed their lives. There is, of course, no singular pandemic experience. For millions of low-income "essential" workers, the pandemic meant fearing every day that you might be infected at work, or worse, bring the virus home with you to infect someone you love. For millions of healthcare workers, the pandemic meant watching your patients die without their loved ones as you struggled to manage the overflow. For others privileged enough to work from home, the pandemic meant endless days of Zoom calls while your kids tried to learn across from you at the dinner table.

As I wrote previously, work from home is going to be a much more common feature of American life. Small businesses, major corporations, and even some government agencies have found that their workers are surprisingly productive from home — and have reconsidered plans to come "back" to work in the office. And workers themselves have found they like using their own bathroom and eating out of their own fridge at lunch.

Indeed, as many workplaces begin to plan to come back to the offices, workers are pushing back. After Apple CEO Tim Cook sent a note to Apple employees requiring them to be back in the office on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays beginning in September, Apple employees circulated a letter in response:

"We ask for your support in enabling those who want to work remotely / in location-flexible ways to continue to do so, letting everyone figure out which work setup works best for them, their team, and their role — be it in one of our offices, from home, or a hybrid solution. We are living proof that there is no one-size-fits-all policy for people. For Inclusion and Diversity to work, we have to recognize how different we all are, and with those differences, come different needs and different ways to thrive. We feel that Apple has both the responsibility to recognize these differences, as well as the capability to fully embrace them. Officially enabling individual management chains and individual teams to make decisions that work best for their teams roles, individuals, and needs — and having that be the official stated policy rather than the rare individual exceptions — would alleviate the concerns and reservations many of us currently have."

Other companies, like Dropbox, have preempted this demand simply by offering work from home options permanently.

Beyond employee preference, companies attempting to go back to a brick-and-mortar office space will face the question of risk tolerance. As we well know, some eschewed any sort of pandemic protection — be it a mask or a vaccine — from the jump. Others, despite being fully vaccinated, remain hesitant to share enclosed space. How to navigate lower risk tolerances remains a serious challenge. Part of making workplaces safe may mean mandating vaccines, which has prompted serious pushback in the courts of law and public opinion by anti-vaxxer activists who want to use the pandemic as another line of attack. Navigating these challenges is, in part, what is pushing more and more employers to offer alternative working arrangements. Needless to say, some alterations to working conditions because of the pandemic are likely here to stay.

Other things stay the same (again).

Some pandemic experiences were universal. For children, the pandemic has been a catastrophe. Not only has learning lagged, but children have been robbed of valuable socialization and milestones. Indeed, the consequences have been far worse for poorer students, disproportionately children of color, for whom access to quality WiFi and reliable computers are limited. All indications suggest that kids will be back to school in the fall as vaccinations among teachers and students press on.

Access to other people and the venues in which we enjoyed their company was limited if available at all. Restaurants, concert venues, theme parks, theaters — even stores and shopping malls — had limited access.

But that's changing. Prompted by the CDC's new guidelines for vaccinated people, many of these venues have rushed to reopen, and Americans are slowly but surely taking advantage. Flight traffic is increasing. Last week, LAX, one of the country's busiest airports, logged a 2021 record. And businesses can't hire people fast enough to accommodate their needs.

Though worries about COVID-19 exposure — particularly for children who cannot yet be vaccinated — persist. Yet as cases continue to fall, and vaccines are approved for younger and younger children, these, too, will subside.

The doomsday scenario.

But there remains a possibility that experiences of the pandemic we haven't had since last fall come crashing back. Cases climb, hospitals fill up, and thousands more Americans die. And that's a resistant strain.

We've now identified several variants of the virus that are more transmissible, and some more deadly, than the original garden-variety ("wild type") virus we experienced through most of 2020. Thankfully none of them have fully evaded our vaccine-mediated immunity. Yet.

Every single unvaccinated person presents an evolutionary opportunity for the virus. And even as the U.S. and other high-income countries approach a virus-stifling level of vaccination, the rest of the world continues to lag. Some countries have yet to get their first vaccines. New variants with frightening capabilities continue to emerge in these countries. Indeed, last week a new variant with aspects of the Alpha variant and the Delta variant emerged in Vietnam. So even as vaccine manufacturers roll out boosters to protect against the growing plethora of new variants, a doomsday scenario, where a more transmissible, lethal variant evolves, becomes more likely.

And so, we can't take for granted that this is a truly global pandemic. And until the rest of the world receives what they need to "end" this pandemic, we won't see our end either.

***

Dr. Abdul El-Sayed is a physician, epidemiologist, public health expert, and progressive activist who served as Detroit's health director and ran for governor in 2018. He is the author of Healing Politics: A Doctor's Journey Into the Heart of Our Political Epidemic and Medicare for All: A Citizen's Guide, as well as the newsletter The Incision. Get more at incision.substack.com.

#covid-19 pandemic #coronavirus vaccination #delta variant #public health #abdul el-sayid

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chachkayes · 3 years

Note

Hi here’s a prompt: Hayes introducing Meredith to Irene 🥺🥺🥺

Smile

Thank you so much for the prompt! It was so much fun to write after being so sick all weekend, I really hope it meets what you had in mind! Enjoy!

“C’mon ‘Mac, why can’t I meet her now? You said she got off the breathing tube.” Irene pressed into her brother-in-law, wanting nothing more than to meet the woman who made him smile again. “Because, she hasn’t woken up yet. And when she does, she is going to want to talk to her kids and the rest of her family first. She’s been out for a while.” Hayes quickly shot back, and Irene rolled her eyes. “Fine, but I’m talking to her before I leave this place!” She called out as he headed for the door to her recovery room.

“Is she awake yet?” Irene asked the next morning when Hayes came to check on her before his shift. “I don’t know.” He responded, trying his best to keep a stoic face. “Oh yeah, I definitely believe you.” She responded sarcastically, smiling from under her mask. “She woke up late last night.” Hayes finally broke, grinning, and Irene followed suit. “Oh ‘Mac that’s amazing, have you gone to see her yet?” She asked, to which Hayes shook his head. “I will, when she’s had a chance to talk to her family and get caught up to speed.”

“Fine, but I better know who she is and what she looks like before tomorrow! I can’t keep imagining her with the description given to me by the boys.” Irene demanded, she would meet the woman her brother-in-law talked about with a smile she hadn’t seen since her sister was alive, if it was the last thing she’d ever do. She knew she’d have to report back to her nephews when she got home from the hospital. “I’ll ask if she wants to meet you later today. Can you leave me alone about this now?” Hayes pleaded, he was still figuring out how to navigate the feelings he’d developed for Meredith and it pained him that Irene had gotten involved. She was just as stubborn as the woman she wanted to meet. “Fine.”

“You off today or something?” Was the text that caught Hayes off-guard a few hours into his shift. Meredith. He’d avoided her room, wanting her to have the chance to talk to Maggie, Amelia, Bailey, Richard, and her kids before he went in to talk to her. He hadn’t expected her to text him, and he certainly didn’t expect her to want to see him so soon. He stared at the text message so long he convinced himself it wasn’t real. The buzzing of his phone snapped him back to reality.

“I can see that you read my text, surprised you haven’t come by to say hi yet.” He’d forgotten he had his read-receipts on. Quickly, he messaged her back. “Sorry, just wasn’t expecting you to message me. I’ll be by soon.” She only sent a thumbs up back, and he headed to her floor, not wanting to keep her waiting too long.

“Hey, you.” Meredith said as soon as Hayes knocked on her door and entered her room. He chuckled a bit and sat down, what was he supposed to say to her? “Sorry for not coming by earlier, I wanted to give you time with your family. I’ve had to deal with my own family issues too, so…” His voiced trailed off. It’d been so long since he’d talked to her, it felt like he’d forgotten how to have a conversation. “What happened?” Meredith asked, concerned.

“Ah, Abby’s sister is in the hospital. Kidney stone. Ureter fell out when taking it out. Catherine Avery and Wilson had to do an auto-transplant to fix her and save her kidney. Kind of felt like my world was falling apart, not going to lie.” Meredith frowned at him. “I’m not going to lie, I’m kind of jealous of Wilson right now. I miss surgery. I miss auto-transplants.” Her voice trailed off, and Hayes regretted sharing about the surgery, knowing how long she’d been away from it. “But how is she doing?” Meredith asked quietly, worried it wasn’t going to be an easy recovery. “Good. Stubborn as ever. Pain in my ass, but work is a good distraction. Just glad she’s okay.” He sighed, and Meredith nodded, instinctively holding out her hand for him to grab in comfort.

He looked at her for a second, wondering if he should. But he did, and he was glad he did. She squeezed his hand, knowing exactly what he was going through. “You know, a few years ago, Amelia had a brain tumour. Koracick had to remove it. It was a 10cm Grade 1 meningioma. One of the scariest things I went through after Derek died. Didn’t want to tell the kids they’d lost their aunt too.” Hayes could only nod, glad he had someone who could actually empathize with him and understood his worry.

“I’d love to meet her someday.” Meredith spoke up again after sitting in silence with Hayes for a few seconds. Hayes looked at her and laughed to himself. “What’s so funny?”

“She’s been asking to meet you as well.”

Hayes barged into Irene’s room, tablet in hand and Meredith on screen. “What the hell, ‘Mac?” She asked, glaring at him. “I have someone on the tablet who wants to talk to you.” Irene rolled her eyes but sat upright, expecting it to be one of her nephews. She was surprised when a woman with a mask on appeared in front of her eyes. Irene looked at the name at the bottom of the screen, only to look up at Hayes in shock when she saw Meredith Grey, Chief of General Surgery. Hayes winked at his sister-in-law and left the room, knowing Irene was about to tell Meredith that he talked about her around his kids constantly and other embarrassing things he didn’t want to be present for.

“So, you’re the infamous general surgeon my nephews kept hearing about.” Irene said, shocked that her brother-in-law had caved that easily. “Oh, did they now? Interesting. But yes, I guess that’s me. And you must be Irene. Hayes has told me lots about you.” Meredith said, grateful her mask was hiding her smirk. “Mac tells me you were on a breathing tube for a while. Mind if I ask what happened?” Irene pressed, wanting to know everything about Meredith, and what the hell had happened to make her need the vent. She didn’t want Hayes to get too attached to someone else who was terminally ill. Meredith laughed at the nickname Irene kept using for Hayes. “I got COVID.” She said, and Irene frowned. “I’m glad to see you’re starting to get better now. Don’t know how ‘Mac would’ve handled losing someone else he cares about.” Meredith didn’t show it on her face, but she was shocked by all the things Irene was telling her.

“Where did that nickname come from, by the way?” Meredith asked, genuinely curious. “That’s a long story.” Irene responded, and Meredith could only nod. The two women talked about their lives, and Irene immediately understood why her brother had fallen for Meredith the moment she mentioned she was a widow as well. They talked about everything from Amelia, to Meredith’s kids, to Austin and Liam, and then even Abby and Derek.

Just before they signed off, Irene said the one thing she’d been wanting to say to Meredith since she learned about her existence from her nephews. “Thank you, by the way.” Meredith tilted her head, confused. “For what?” She asked with a slight laugh. “For making him smile again. The kids say he hasn’t smiled like he does when he talks about you in a really long time. And I gotta say, I get it now that I’ve seen it for myself. I haven’t seen that smile on his face since before my sister died. So, thank you.” Meredith smiled sincerely at Irene, placing her hand on her chest.

“That means a lot, he makes me smile too.”

#kenz writes #merhayes #cormac hayes #merwidow #meredith x hayes #grayes #meredith x cormac #hayes x grey #cormac x meredith #hayes x meredith #mcwidows

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rmtndew · 4 years

Text

All I’ve Ever Known ~ Chapter 4

Summary: Fiona’s life is a shattered fraction of what it used to be. She’s trying to navigate her new normal when she meets Detective Marshall, who gives her something more to look forward to.

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This was intended as a short drabble but it got out of hand and became a multi-chapter story instead. It’s my first Marshall fic and the first fan fic that I’ve written in over a decade. The title comes from the song ‘All I’ve Ever Known’ from Hadestown: ‘I was alone so long, I didn’t even know that I was lonely. Out in the cold so long, I didn’t even know that I was cold. Turned my collar to the wind, this is how it’s always been. All I’ve ever known is how to hold my own, but now I want to hold you, too.’

Tag list - @hollydaisy23, @readings-of-a-cavill-lover, @onlyhenrys, @omgkatinka, @speakerforthedead0-blog, @gearhead66, @thethirstyarchive, @oddsnendsfanfics, @littlerinoa, @agniavateira, @aaescritora,

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, let me know!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

I woke the next morning ten minutes before my alarm went off. At first I couldn’t figure out why and tried burrowing back into my warm bed to get my last few minutes of sleep back, but then my phone alerted me to a new text and I realized that’s what had woken me up. I sighed. I knew it was Darcy. Sometimes she woke up early with big ideas for her store and texted them to me, asking my opinion. She met me when I was working in interior design and any time she entertained the idea of having a dine in section, she’d send me pictures of what she wanted and ask how feasible it would be. Most of the time they were way too grand to fit into her pre-existing building. Other times she’d talk about a small coffee shop to encourage more people to come in and pick up their own orders and cut back on our deliveries. But I couldn’t see how renovating a portion of the store, buying new equipment and hiring extra employees to run a coffee shop would lower costs just by maybe cutting back on some deliveries.

I was planning on ignoring the text until after I’d actually gotten up, but when another came through I knew it was best to just go ahead and nip it in the bud before she sent me an entire magazine’s worth of photos. But when I hit the home button on my phone I saw that the texts hadn’t come from Darcy. I had to squint against the brightness of the screen to make sure I saw the name right. Marshall.

I sat up and turned on my lamp, then looked at my phone again, reading the texts from their previews.

Hey, it’s Marshall. I had a great time yesterday. Sorry I was falling asleep on you. Can I make it up to you this weekend?

Sorry. You’re probably sleeping. It might take more than coffee to make it up to you now. Dinner?

I suddenly felt wide awake and was no longer irritated by my few minutes of missed sleep. I would have gladly given up several hours for those texts. I decided not to reply to them right then, though. I wanted to make sure I’d had enough coffee to formulate a comprehensible reply and not look like I was drunk texting him, which I had a history of. My conversations with Darcy at five in the morning were proof of that.

I got up and went about my morning routine like usual, trying not to wake Mom. When I made my way downstairs, I poured a cup of coffee and sat at the table. I sipped it, thinking about what to say to Marshall. I wrote and rewrote the text half a dozen times before finally having something I felt okay with, then I sent it.

Hey Marshall. I had a great time, too. You don’t have to make up for anything but I’d still like to have dinner with you. What day did you have in mind?

My heart was thudding from nerves and excitement. I was so focused on trying to calm myself down that I almost didn’t hear Mom when she walked in.

“Morning, sweetie,” she said, grabbing a coffee cup.

“Good morning,” I replied, then jumped slightly as my phone vibrated on the table. I tried not to look too enthusiastic as I grabbed it.

Does Saturday work for you?

“Darcy again?” Mom asked, pouring coffee for herself.

“Um...no, actually.” I tried biting back a smile but it didn’t work. “It’s Marshall.”

Her eyes went wide and she smiled back. “He’s writing to you at six in the morning?”

“He actually wrote me earlier. He asked if I wanted to have dinner with him Saturday.”

She sat down at the table beside me. “What did you tell him?”

“I haven’t replied yet. I don’t want him to think I’m just waiting by the phone for him.”

She looked at the phone in my hand. “Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing, though?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t have to know it.”

She laughed then blew on her coffee. “I’m glad this whole texting business wasn’t around when I was dating your father.”

“Even if it was, you’re a lot more forward than I am. You wouldn’t have had a single issue with texting Dad first, or answering him right away,” I said. My phone made another sound, reminding me of my unread text and I finally opened it, then replied.

Saturday is perfect. What time would you like to meet?

“Well, there was only room enough for one coy person in our relationship and Rodger called that role,” Mom said after I put my phone down.

I laughed. “I don’t think ‘coy’ was the right word for Dad. I think socially awkward was more appropriate.”

“He was too smart to be a social butterfly, too. He had to have a couple of flaws.”

“He couldn’t set the timer for the coffee pot, no matter how many times I showed him, and he thought that the Sharknado movies were amazing. He had his flaws,” I joked.

“This coffee pot is confusing.”

“He was an engineer!”

My phone buzzed in my hand and that time I didn’t wait to open the text. I read it right away.

Would you let me pick you up instead? Around six?

“Well, what does he say?” Mom asked.

“He wants to pick me up instead of me meeting him.”

“Are you going to let him?”

I looked at her and she was smiling at me. I shook my head at her, laughing again. “You want him to come here so that you can see him, don’t you?”

She shrugged. “You keep talking about how handsome he is.”

“He is handsome. And it’s an awfully gentlemanly thing to do…” I bit my lip for a moment, pretending to think it over.

“Just tell him yes. We both know you’re going to.”

I gave another laugh. “Fine.”

I would like that, thank you. And I’m curious, what does Detective Marshall eat when he’s not eating a cuban sandwich and plain chips?

I put my phone on the table. “What are your plans for today?” I asked, then took a sip of my coffee.

She gave me a cheeky grin. “Changing the subject.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not changing the subject. I’m asking what my mother is going to be doing while I’m out earning the bread for this family,” I joked.

She snorted. “You don’t earn the bread, Fi, you just bake it.” She nodded at my arm. “And burn yourself in the process.”

“That’s the first time I’ve burnt myself in a year and a half. I’d say that’s a pretty good record.”

“That’s true,” she said. “And if you must know, I was thinking of going down to Valley and talking to Georgia about starting music lessons again after the new year. I think by then I’ll have recovered enough to be able to teach at least a few days a week.”

“You’re going to put yourself around snot nosed kids in the dead of flu season?” I asked dryly.

“I’ll be teaching teenagers, not little kids, and I’ll wear a mask,” she said. “I’ll make sure to clean everything between students and have them use hand sanitizer when they come in. I’m not going to be immunocompromised forever, and I’m not going to live in a bubble until then, either.” She gave me a smirk. “Besides, I can’t let you be the only one that earns the bread around here.”

I laughed at her but it was cut short when my phone buzzed again.

Stuff that’s probably not very good for him. Like Italian. How does that sound?

Just when I thought I couldn’t be any more attracted to him, he confessed to liking my favorite type of food. I couldn’t stop my train of thought that went to me one day making an Italian dinner for him as a date. But my mind’s eye set up the imaginary dinner in my old apartment and I knew that would never happen. I let that thought go and took a deep breath, trying to focus my attention on the present moment.

That sounds great. I love Italian food.

I sent it and sat back in my seat. I tried not to let my mind wander too far down the road with Marshall. I’d been on a lot of first dates in my life with guys that I’d thought were great who turned out to be jerks and I knew what that disappointment felt like. And even though I couldn’t imagine Marshall disappointing me in the same way they had - he’d proven at our coffee date that he was far more respectful, even while he was tired - I wanted to remind myself that I needed to take things one step at a time.

Perfect. I’ll see you Saturday at six, then.

I must have looked pretty gooey eyed over the whole thing because Mom reached out and touched my wrist gently. When I looked at her, the teasing tone was gone from her face and she was smiling at me. “I’m happy for you, sweetie. I really am.”

I was a ball of nerves all Saturday morning and afternoon. More than I’d ever been on the day of a first date. But nothing with Marshall fell into my ‘usual’ category. There was something about him that made him different from any other man I’d gone out with. And maybe that was it: He was a man. Not some boy masquerading as one. He was quiet, and fierce, and protective. He thought before he spoke. And even when delivering a threat - like he had to that creep in the bar - he’d done it calmly and with authority. He exuded confidence, not cockiness, and there was honestly nothing more attractive than that.

I was nearly ready, just zipping up my boots, when I heard a crash downstairs. I rushed down and found Mom in the kitchen, trying to pick up the broken pieces of one of her giant coffee mugs.

“I’m - I’m not sure what happened,” she said. “I just lost my grip.”

“It’s okay.” I took a step towards her, trying to avoid the pile of porcelain. “Let me clean it up.”

“I can do it,” she said, sounding flustered.

“I know you can but you’re in socks and I’m wearing boots.”

She stood her ground for a moment, then finally sighed and relented, taking a step back. “Okay. I’ll get you the broom.”

“It’s fine. I’ll get it. Just watch your step.”

I went to grab the broom as she threw away the large chunks of her broken cup that she’d been able to pick up with her hands. I could tell she was frustrated.

“You know, if you didn’t like that mug, you could have just gotten rid of it, you didn’t have to break it,” I joked, taking the broom and dustpan from the broom closet. “Or were you afraid I wouldn’t take the hint and buy you another one if I thought it just went missing?”

She gave a small laugh but I could tell she was still embarrassed. “I actually liked that coffee mug a lot.”

“I’ll get you a new one.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can -”

The doorbell rang and she stopped mid-sentence. We both froze, my eyes flicking to the clock on the stove. It was 5:53. Marshall was early. After a moment, Mom took a step towards me, holding out her hand to take the broom from me. I shook my head.

“You’re wearing socks,” I reminded her. “I don’t want you to cut your foot.”

Her eyes grew wide. “So you’re going to clean up after me while I go meet your date?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She brushed her hand over her barely there hair, trying to collect herself, then let out a breath. “Okay, I’ll go let him in.”

“Don’t be too charming. He might have a thing for cougars and I don’t want to have to fight my mom for a guy.”

She smiled for real, the embarrassment of having her daughter clean up after her letting go enough that it was no longer plainly visible. “No promises,” she joked, then left the kitchen to answer the door.

It didn’t take long to clean up. Even though the cup had shattered pretty good, its bright white color stood out against the dark wood of the floor, making even the tiniest pieces easy to see. After making sure I’d cleaned it all up, I threw away the pieces and put up the broom and dustpan, then went to find Mom and Marshall.

They were standing in the entryway. Mom was saying something about teaching at Valley and Marshall stood in front of her, his hands clasped behind his back, and a look of sincere focus on his face as she spoke. Mom was a small woman but next to him, she looked comically tiny.

I paused for a moment, taking him in. His hair looked a bit more controlled than any other time I’d seen him, his curls tighter and not quite as messy. His beard looked like it had been trimmed, giving it a purposeful look instead of the ‘I’m too busy to shave’ vibe that I’d gotten from him previously. He wore a thick blue sweater that made the color of his eyes pop when they drifted over to me. It was brief, maybe less than a second, before concentrating on Mom again. But he had a slight smile and it was enough for her to notice. She turned and looked at me.

“There she is. I guess I’ll stop talking your ear off and let you two go,” she said.

Marshall smiled at her, then at me, bigger that time. “I didn’t realize I was early. I apologize.”

“No, don’t. You’re fine,” I said, moving to grab my coat. “I’m ready, I was just cleaning up a broken cup. I’m basically like Cinderella around here.”

Mom snorted. “Hardly. Cinderella was made to do chores. You’re the one who won’t let me lift a finger,” she said. “Besides, I think she sang while she worked.”

I raised my eyebrow at her as I put my coat on. “Do you want me to sing?”

She shook her head. “No. No one wants that, sweetie,” she said, making Marshall laugh. She looked at him. “Fi spent a good portion of her teenage years screaming along to music in her room. I didn’t even know you could make ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ sound angry until she proved otherwise. Needless to say, her father and I encouraged her other interests a bit more enthusiastically.”

I grabbed my purse. “I should have let you clean up your own mess and answered the door myself,” I joked before kissing the top of her head. “Bye, Mom.”

Marshall smiled again. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Sparks.”

“Likewise, Detective Marshall. You two have fun.”

We left the house and after a few steps down the walkway, he jabbed his thumb back at the door. “She’s funny.”

“She can be,” I agreed. “She’s a spitfire, though, that’s for sure.”

“I like it.”

“Yeah, I like it, too.”

We walked to his truck and he opened the door for me. “You look gorgeous, by the way,” he said as I got in.

I felt myself blush instantly, caught off guard by the compliment. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, closing the door for me.

We’d only made it to the driveway and my stomach was already doing somersaults. He made me feel like a teenage girl, all giddy and excited, and I loved it.

He went around the front of the truck, then climbed in the driver’s side. I tried to sneak a look at him while he was putting on his seat belt but he caught me. He smiled as I snapped my head straight ahead.

“Sorry, I just, I was…” I tried to think of an excuse but I couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound lame. I let out a sigh. “I was checking you out,” I admitted. “I can’t lie. There’s no point. Sorry.”

“That’s the least offensive thing a woman has ever apologized to me for,” he said with a laugh, starting the truck. He leaned forward enough to catch my eye, making me instinctively turn my head towards him. He grinned. “Did you see anything you like?”

My blush deepened and I couldn’t hold back a giggle. “Maybe.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, that is a nice sweater.”

“Oh, so you were checking out my jumper?”

I shrugged. “It brings out your eyes.”

“Does it now?”

“It does. And you have very lovely eyes.”

“Thank you,” he said. “But my daughter bought the jumper, so I can’t take credit for it.”

“She did a good job,” I said, forcing my eyes to look up front as we pulled out of the driveway. Even though I’d already admitted to checking him out, there was a difference between looking and leering and I didn’t want to come off as creepy. “I take it that this wasn’t your weekend to have her?”

“It was supposed to be but she was invited to a Halloween party with some of her friends so she asked to do that instead. She’ll be with me tomorrow.”

“What did she dress as? For the party.”

“A cowgirl.”

“Does she ride horses or did she just like the costume?”

“No, she rides. She took lessons when she was a bit younger. And she and I go riding some weekends.”

“So you’re Detective Marshall during the week and cowboy Marshall on the weekends? Does that ever cross over? Do they have mounted police in the homicide unit?”

He shook his head as he laughed. “No, not that I’m aware of.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Is it now?” he asked, and his tone made me blush all over again.

“I’m actually not going to answer that. I’m going to wait until we get a little further from my house to fully embarrass myself so that when you fake an emergency to get rid of me, my ego doesn’t get too crushed.”

“Do you really think I’d do that?”

“I hope not, but I’ve been excited about having dinner with you, so I’m going to try not to mess it up.”

“I think you’d have to try pretty hard to mess it up,” he said as we stopped at the end of my street. He glanced at me. “And I’ve been excited about it, too.”

#Henry Cavill #Walter Marshall #Night Hunter #Nomis #All I've Ever Known #Walter Marshall fan fiction #Henry Cavill fan fiction #Night Hunter fan fiction #Walter Marshall/OFC #HenryCavillFanfic #WalterMarshallFanfic

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years

Text

Title: Rumor Has It {12}

Chris Evans x Famous Reader Uriah “Riah” Tyler-Evans

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Angst

Word Count: 4.5K

Summary: You and Chris have been married for four years after a whirlwind romance. You are both happy and trying to navigate marriage in the public eye while balancing your successful careers. In the entertainment industry, not everything is as it seems, the flash of a camera lens impairs vision. As scandal and flashing lights put a strain on your once fairytale marriage is it possible your Hollywood marriage can stand the test of the rumor mill?

**Inspired by a video seen of Chris and his co-star Ana De Armas on their press tour for Knives Out at TIFF where she kept touching his chest and face standing about five inches apart.

**NOTE: A WORK OF FICTION. NOT CREATED TO GARNER HATE OF ANY SORT.

**Loosley Edited/Proofread**

**Slightly Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤❤

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren’t crazy. That was the fact and no matter what you wouldn’t be made to feel like you were. Yeah, you understood he was hurt and probably disappointed that you would even think to ask him if he was being unfaithful after everything. It was his right to feel however he felt, it was also your right to feel the way you felt. Something was going on and you didn’t know if he was gaslighting you and leading a secret life behind your back, or if you were imagining things and this was all your insecurities speaking. You knew that if this continued your marriage wouldn’t survive.

After Chris left he stayed gone. It wasn’t until the next day you were told by Jennifer his assistant that he’d made arrangements to stay in a separate room until checkout. You were hurt but you didn’t say anything. Though she knew something was up, she didn’t bring it up. You spent the next day apart while he continued work. When he came back to the room it was only to tell you that the schedule had changed, and he’d be flying out to LA sooner. He told you that you could fly with him or do your own thing. The way he spoke was so indirect, so aloof. It felt as if he were building a wall between you.

When you tried to approach him, he backed away. If you tried to bring up the problem at hand he changed the subject. His annoyance was clear, so you decided to let him fly out and you’d find your own way. When you said that he hesitated and looked even more hurt. You didn’t know what the hell he wanted from you. he didn’t take the time to explain it either, he just left. You were keeping count, that was number two.

Thanks to the four-hour delay of your flight out of San Diego you had ample time to think about your situation and try to come up with a plan. You hated to think that bitch outplayed you and created an even bigger issue. Deep down you knew she wasn’t as innocent as she played, it was clear in the way she underhandedly set Chris on you by tattling to him about brunch. She could have kept it to herself, could have let it roll off of her, but she chose the sneaky route. This was a game for her. Before your flight took off you shot a message to Zora and Kizzy. It was time to get the Three Musketeers together, three heads were better than one.

MSG: Meet me in LA. The Three Musketeers have work to do.

The weather in LA matched your mood, dreary. The rain beat down on the concrete from the minute you walked off the jet. It was like a monsoon. Once you landed your phone went off with messages and notifications.

MSG Chris: The weather isn’t so great. I tried calling to make sure you were okay. Maybe you should hang back a little longer to wait out the storm to be safe.

It sounded like worry, but it could just as easily be him wanting to keep you away from LA for a few more hours so he could have extra time to fuck around.

MSG Chris: I haven’t heard back. Call me when you get this Uriah let me know you’re okay.

As you climbed into your waiting car Kizzy and Zora were waiting in the back.

“Woah, how did you guys get here so fast?”

“You said we had work to do. We know Three Musketeers is code,” Kizzy announced.

You smiled. “Let’s go get that bitch,” Zora added.

You busted out laughing and threw your arms around both of them. At least they didn’t think you were crazy.

“I love you guys so much.

As the car drove through LA from the airport you filled them in on what happened in San Diego. The more you told them about Ana’s demeanor the more they thought she was behind everything. Both Kizzy and Zora firmly believed that Chris was innocent and that he would never do something like that to you. They were so sure about it you wanted to believe it too. You just didn’t know what the hell to think. The fact was he thought you were crazy.

The three of you went through evidence over the last few months to either prove or disprove that he was being unfaithful. As you did you found new information, new pictures, and sly comments in interviews that you hadn’t even focused on before. The three of you were like Inspector Gadget on crack in the backseat of the truck. You combed over evidence better than secret agents and the FBI and came up with theories and theories for those theories.

Once you pulled up at the house the case was closed, and the verdict was conclusive—or two out of three conclusive.

“This bitch is scammin’,” Kizzy blurted out as you walked inside. Chris’ car was not in the driveway, so you knew he wasn’t home.

“I agree with Kiz, Riah. Everything that we’ve looked at says she is doing this and controlling it. This bitch is trying to wreck your marriage. The posts are strategic.”

“The interviews absolutely strategic. She is the instigator in all of them. your dumbass husband is being friendly. Unfortunately for him his friendliness always comes off as flirtatious,” Kizzy added.

“And this picture?” You held up your phone of the picture of her in the “eat shit” sweater. This picture really boiled your blood.

“Bullshit, but I cannot explain just how the backgrounds are identical. You said the room you were in for brunch looked absolutely different. It is not uncommon for hotels to keep their design aesthetic similar for normal suites but for the statelier rooms, I’ve seen them be different in unique ways. This picture is suspect,” Zora admitted. You nodded and walked into the kitchen and took out a bottle of beer from the freshly stocked fridge.

“So, you two believe Chris isn’t cheating but this picture overthrows your theory completely. We can’t even come up with an explanation.”

“Take a breath. I know it’s frustrating,” Zora began.

“Where are they now?”

“According to Chris’ schedule, he has the final junket in an hour at the Fairmount.”

“So that means she is also there. Let’s go,” Kizzy said as she sprang to her feet and bolted for the door. You and Zora just looked at each other, confused. When you caught up with her she was already in the driver’s seat of your pink metallic range rover, a gift from Chris.

“Where are we going?”

“Where do you think? Get in the car!”

You and Zora didn’t waste any time and hopped in. If you were a hot head and crazy, Kizzy was insane. She went from zero to one hundred in one second and when she was at one hundred it was known to stay the hell away from her, just like you.

As you drove Kizzy went through the plan. Get to the hotel, maneuver through it without being seen, find the part of the hotel where the junket was, remain hidden. After that Kizzy went into two variations, one that was perfectly sane and the other was straight up stalker. No man had you go full stalker. You couldn’t believe you were considering this. Since you guys had the time Zora suggested finding different outfits. It was just like her to always find time for shopping. Her reasoning was if you were going to play spies then you had to look the part.

Forty minutes later you were parked at the service entrance of the hotel dressed in all black. You had to talk them both out of masks. They were taking this a little too far.

“So, plan A or B?” their eyes landed on you waiting for you to decide how crazy you wanted to go. Did you want to sneak around and find out what you could, or did you want to find her bag and sneak through it, phone and all. There would have been a plan C if you hadn’t talked them both out of kidnapping and scare methods.

“Let’s start with plan A.”

It shouldn’t have been so easy, but you slipped through the back of the hotel which led to the kitchen. The hustle and bustle of the kitchen made sneaking around difficult so the three of you did your best to blend in like one of the workers. That was also easy despite being mistaken for delivery men and having to carry in ingredients for the upcoming dinner rush. Ten minutes later the three of you’d made it to the service elevator rolling a room service cart.

“Good thinking grabbing the cart, Riah. We’ll blend in for sure.”

As you stepped onto the elevator you pushed the top floor button and waited. You prayed no one came on the elevator but after ten floors your hopes were dashed. On the tenth, six people filled the elevator which had you discreetly hiding your face behind Zora’s shoulder. Thankfully none of them paid you any mind. On the twelfth the six additions left the elevator but as you were pressing the close button a hand stopped the doors from closing.

“Hold the elevator please.” A few seconds later a woman you recognized walked onto the elevator. Quickly you dropped down to one knee and pretended to busy yourself with something on the second trey of the car. You kept your head down hoping to stay hidden.

“Thank you for holding it,” Ana said.

You peeked up at Kizzy and Zora who had their heads dipped own as well, Zora had her face buried in a notebook that was attached to the car and Kizzy lowered her black hat and buried her nose in her phone. This wasn’t either of your first times stepping into Three bad bitches mode.

“Come on Chris!” Your eyes widened just at the same time Kizzy and Zora both peeked down to you with their eyes just as wide.

“I’m here, sorry I’ve been trying to reach Uriah to make sure she made it through the storm. She’s not picking up.”

You noticed Ana give her assistant Cora an eye roll.

“Uh-huh,” was her only reply. Chris continued tapping at his phone. You felt four vibrations on your ass and guessed it was Chris texting you. Part of you felt good about that. He was in this elevator with her and you were the only thing on his mind. Ana cleared her throat loudly.

“Sorry.” He slipped his phone into his pocket and looked at the two women beside him. “Where were we?”

“You were going to answer if you were in for drinks tonight,” Ana mentioned.

“Oh, tonight? I don’t know. It’s been a long press tour I really want my bed and some beer.”

“I can deliver on one or both of those things if you’d like.” Again Kizzy and Zora glanced at you. The air in the elevator quickly changed. Chris made a move to look back and it sent your head buried deeper under the cart. He cleared his throat and pasted an uncomfortable smile on his face.

“Choice is yours, I don’t want you to feel pressured. I know you enjoy our time together more with no pressure.”

What the fuck is she talking about, you asked yourself.

“I’ll let you know, but I’m leaning to not tonight.” The elevator doors opened, and he was the first to step out. You watched as Ana’s eyes dropped to his ass, it was then she let out a small moan.

“Yummy.”

You were seconds from jumping up and grabbing that stringy hair of hers but Zora’s and Kizzy’s hands on your shoulder pushing you down stopped you. when the doors closed again you looked like death.

“She is bold, I’ll give her that,” Kizzy said. You dug your phone out and checked your messages.

MSG Chris: Uriah I’m starting to worry. Please call me.

MSG Chris: I know we’re in a weird place right now and we’re both angry but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I love you. Just let me know you’re all right, please.

MSG Chris: I will always love you.

MSG Chris: No matter what.

Pushing away the influx of emotion that washed over you, you stuffed your phone back into your back pocket and pressed the open button on the elevator bank.

“Let’s go.”

The three of you stepped off the elevator and carefully walked down the hall that had several posters from the movie set up. You passed one of Chris as Ransom and you were tempted to stop and admire it, but you ignored it. as you passed each room you saw different actors from the movie being interviewed—Daniel Craig, Jamie Lee Curtis, Don Johnson, Lakeith Stanfield, and others. When we passed Lakeith Zora almost burst into the room. She had the only crush on him and if she had the chance she would lock him in a room and have her way with him. If you asked her she’d say it was only a matter of time before he was hers. You and Kizzy had to hold her back to prevent her from blowing your cover. She was not happy but knew there was a job to do.

After going down the halls and peeking into different rooms you saw the one Chris and Ana were on. They were in the midst of an interview. You watched on and took note of their chemistry. You could see why they were cast together, but it was clear she did not know the difference between pretend and real life.

You bit your bottom lip nervously trying to keep the insecure thoughts away, trying to trust in the fact that Chris loved you, and that the chances of him being a sociopath were slim. You were mostly convinced but when you saw Chris reach out and touch Ana’s thigh just above her knee you saw red. She reached out to rest her hand on his but he moved it before she could. That didn’t deter her though, she reached out and took his hand and hugged it to her chest with a wide smile. You watched the back of his hand press against her breast where her cleavage was and decided to abandon plan A. You were ready to jump to plan C. Almost as quickly as she put his hand to her bosom Chris took it back and gave an uneasy smirk. You pressed your back to the wall in the hall.

“Plan B.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Kizzy whispered.

The three of you waited for your window of opportunity. The longer you waited the more time your rage festered. Every time the interviewers changed you got a message from Chris. Each of them showed his concern with reaching you. You knew he hated when you were radio silent and to remain that way would have been cruel, especially seeing he was genuinely worried about your safety.

MSG: I’m fine. There were some delays and a lot of turbulence, but I landed okay.

You didn’t have to wait long for a response.

MSG Chris: Good, I’m glad you’re okay. Let’s talk. I have a little break at four, can you come by the Fairmount? I don’t want to leave things unsaid especially after everything we learned in therapy. I don’t want to backslide.

At the mention of therapy, you softened, a little.

MSG: Okay.

The butterflies filled your gut even though you were furious at him. You took a few breaths and tried to still them, but it was no use. He still gave you butterflies.

The three of you hung around spying but didn’t get much. There were a few breaks where Ana and her assistant chatted, and she pointed out to her how sexy Chris looked to which Cora agreed. Then there were a few moments where you caught her clearly trying to interject herself to initiate touching. The flirting was clearly one-sided, you could see that. You knew Chris’ flirting technique and you also knew his friendliness. He was being friendly; this was not flirting. That at lease placated your rage.

By the time four o’clock rolled around you saw your opening. Cora who was holding on to Ana’s purse set it down and went over to her to go over some things. It was within reach, so you nonchalantly walked into the room took it up and walked right back out. You met Kizzy and Zora in a janitor closet and handed the bag off then made your way to an empty room to face your fate. The banquet room was empty. You walked to the side of the room where a stage was and slipped onto it. That was when you realized you still wore the black beanie. Just as you slipped it off your head and under your ass the door opened, and Chris walked in.

The sight of him sent the butterflies in your belly aflutter again. You took a few breathes and held one as he slowly approached you. The relieved look on his face changed to a timid one as he got closer and closer. Once he was about ten feet in front of you he stopped and stuffed his hands in his pocket.

“I was worried.”

“I know. There was a delay with getting the messages. I didn’t do it on purpose,” you explained. Chris nodded while keeping his eyes on you.

“Riah, I don’t want to fight.”

“You think I do? I don’t want any of this.”

“Then how do we move past this?” He sounded exasperated like he was at his wit’s end. He probably was.

“Have you slept with her?”

“No.” The answer was flat out, clearly spoken and firmly meant. There was no quiver in his voice or hesitation with his response. Everything from that pointed to him telling the truth.

“God, since when do you not believe the things I say to you? When have I lied?” He took a few more steps to you.

“I don’t know,” it was a whisper. You were quickly being overcome with emotion.

“Come on dragonfly, talk to me.” With five more steps he’d closed the gap between you, but he didn’t touch you. “Please talk to me.”

“You’re making me feel like I’m crazy. I’m not crazy, Chris.”

“I know you’re not,” he began before you cut him off.

“You’re making me feel like it. Every time I tell you something or bring up something about her. You throw up this whole defense. Why?”

“Why do you feel so threatened by her?”

You wanted to throw something right at his head.

“I don’t feel threatened by her or any woman. I know women like her; I’ve known them all my life. I’ve dropped any of them that came in my path. With you though—you don’t see what I see and the more I try to show you, the more you make me feel crazy.”

“Uriah. I am not sleeping with her. I have never slept with her. I would never sleep with her. I am not that kind of man. I could never do something like that to you.”

“Do you want to sleep with her?” Chris took a deep breath and slowly released it. you were actually afraid of this answer. Telling you he wasn’t, hasn’t and would never sleep with her doesn’t say a thing about him wanting to. It only meant his self-control was high enough to resist what he wants. It felt like forever passed as you waited for him to answer.

“No.”

“Why did you hesitate?”

“Because with that answer, I knew you wouldn’t believe it. I’m not blind Uriah, she’s attractive. Have I noticed? Yes. Do I want her? No, and that includes having sex with her.” He took another breath and spoke again. “Do you remember when I had issues with you being around him?”

He never referred to Christiano by name, it was always him. You nodded.

“It was like this wasn’t it?”

It was your turn to take a deep breath. Roles were now reversed. Chris hung his head and allowed the silence to stretch between you. No doubt he was remembering how hard that time was for the two of you. He accused you and questioned you every time Christiano made things difficult. His whole goal was to get you back and he didn’t care how he went about it. Christiano had no respect for the fact that you married someone else. To him, it was all about what he wanted, and how he remembered your relationship.

“Wow. Full circle huh. Shit baby if you feel anything close to how I felt back then—I’m sorry. I didn’t—I wasn’t—I should have--.” The words escaped him, but you knew what he meant. He approached you and reached for your hand but hesitated when you didn’t make a move to meet him halfway.

“You can’t--, look I know you feel justified in doing what you did but Riah, that wasn’t okay. You can’t just corner someone I work with because you think we’re having an affair. You can’t do something like that especially without coming to me first. I never did that to you with him because I know the industry. I know how easy it is to get a reputation and a label. You didn’t just compromise our relationship, and everything we’ve worked through, but you also compromised my career, our livelihood.”

Though you were still steaming mad at him, that part of his argument was true. She could have run to TMZ or some other trashy blog instead of Chris. She could have done a lot of damage. You didn’t think that far, or you didn’t care. You wanted to throw it back at him but that wouldn’t resolve anything. You learned a long time ago in marriage being right meant nothing. Chris dug into his pocket to pull out his vibrating phone. As he peered down at it he shook his head.

“Damn it, I gotta go.”

You nodded. Chris stared at you for a few moments before he turned and walked out of the room to reappear seconds later.

“There is something I have to tell you. Something--.” He was cut off by one of the event coordinators who appeared at his side.

“Shit, I gotta go. I love you, Riah.”

The way he said it felt different. It felt—strange. You didn’t have time to respond before he was gone leaving you there to wonder what he had to tell you.

When you found Zora and Kizzy they were still in the closet combing through everything in Ana’s purse. Once you entered Zora quickly averted her eyes.

“Anything?”

Neither of them replied. Kizzy kept her eyes on the phone she held, and Zora continued rifling through the purse. They were being weird.

“Hello, guys. Did you find anything?”

Kizzy and Zora exchanged looks and just like that your stomach fell. They’d found something.

“What did you find?” Again, they remained silent. Zora could tell you were getting annoyed, so she spun to you.

“Okay promise you’ll be calm,” Zora breeched. Immediately you went into DEFCON mode.

“What the fuck, Zo?” Kizzy held out the phone to you with a blank expression on her face.

“Take it with a grain of salt, you don’t know the whole story.” You took the phone and looked through the messages section. You read through an exchange between Ana and Chris.

MSG Ana: I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I didn’t plan that at all. It’s just that I’ve been going through a lot lately. Adjusting to the limelight has been really weird and I’ve lost people I thought were true. I’ve been really lonely feeling like I’m going through this beast alone. You were being so kind to me I guess I got carried away.

MSG Chris: I’m sorry you’re going through that and you feel so alone. We’ve all been there. I’m certain it’s the actor’s right of passage to lose people and experience bouts of loneliness. God knows I feel lonely a lot especially during filming and press touring. I understand. It’s no big deal.

MSG Ana: Really? If your wife ever found out wouldn’t she be furious?

MSG Chris: Initially maybe, yes. It wasn’t a planned thing. You know I have a wife who I love so there’s nothing to worry about there.

MSG Ana: I have to say something without making it weird. You’re an excellent kisser.

Your eyes stopped at “kisser” and it felt like you’d sniffed something that was automatically affecting your brain. You knew “Knives Out” had no love scenes with them. You looked to Zora and Kizzy, but they remained silent, so you continued to read.

MSG Chris: LOL. Thanks, I guess.

You skimmed the following messages but found nothing incriminating just annoying little messages she’d sent to him trying to be cute. You scrolled and saw another exchange from just before you began therapy.

MSG Ana: Do you wanna talk about it?

MSG Chris: No, I’ll be fine. Just marriage is hard.

MSG Ana: If I were married to you I wouldn’t make it hard. You’d be happy. does she even make you happy anymore?

MSG Chris: Of course, I love her.

MSG Ana: But it’s okay to move on if she’s not doing it for you anymore. There are plenty of women who would treasure you.

MSG Chris: Gotta go.

The more you read the more you hated her. Another exchange caught your eye, this was from when they were filming.

MSG Chris: I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to touch you like that. I have no idea how I grabbed there instead of your arms.

MSG Ana: LOL. It’s okay. I can’t say that it was a bad touch scenario. I should say thank you. it’s been a while since a man grabbed my breast. I was beginning to forget what that felt like.

MSG Chris: I’m so sorry.

MSG Ana: Don’t worry about it. It was an accident, it meant nothing.

Clenching your jaw, you tried to swallow the vomit that wanted to raise up. Zora touched your arm in comfort but you brushed it off. You were ready to call an end to this “mission” but another message came in. One from her assistant, Cora.

MSG Cora: Everything is all planned for your night with Chris. All that we’re waiting on now is just his confirmation. Also, I see the video of you in his room made it to tabloid. Damn you were not playing around when you said you were going to take everything that was hers.

MSG Cora: Let me know if you need anything else.

Kizzy and Zora looked at you and the three of you had the same expression and you were sure you thought the same thing.

“This bitch!”

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#rumor has it fic #Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #black fanfiction #chris evans x ofc uriah #chris evans x uriah #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic

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alirhi · 3 years

Text

chapter 4

Title: Winter's Frost Chapter: 4/? Fandom: MCU Rating: R to be on the safe side Pairing: Loki/Bucky, reference to BuckyNat Summary: Loki never told anyone the real reason he became so obsessed with Midgard. Much better to let them think he wanted to hurt his brother than draw their attention to the one thing in the universe that makes the God of Mischief truly vulnerable.

WARNINGS: m/m, this chapter m/f, some light kink, a little drama, references to murder that I probably should have been putting in the warnings sooner lol Notes: I have no idea when the Winter Soldier killed RJ Nakajima, so I once again decided to just go with what suited my purposes. Also, I love that Loki is a shapeshifter XD

Before he went back to Asgard, there was one thing Loki knew he had to do. He couldn't come all the way here without seeing his beloved, no matter how much it hurt to see what HYDRA had turned him into. Deep down, he was still Bucky, and Loki owed it to him to face his present, not live forever in his past. Bad enough he hadn't been back to see him in twenty years.

It took a bit of doing, but he found him, and, thankfully, he was out of the freezer. Unfortunately, he was standing over a couple of corpses again.

"How is it I always seem to find you knee-deep in blood and death?" An exaggeration, to be sure, but it didn't feel like much of one as he stepped delicately past an old man with a broken neck and did his best to ignore the young man with a bullet in his head slumped against the door. "Do they never thaw you out for a run to Starbucks?"

Bucky turned to look at him, and he was momentarily thrown by the muzzle-like mask covering most of his love's handsome face. Those eyes were the same, though; vacant, vaguely confused, but still beautiful and familiar. And then a spark of recognition that made Loki's heart soar.

"You remember me, don't you?" He stepped just a little closer, fighting to ignore the reek of human blood and just focus on those big, pretty blue eyes.

Once again, he found himself with a metal hand wrapped round his throat, this time with a wall at his back. Loki rolled his eyes. "You can't harm me, Sergeant. Didn't we establish this last time?"

"Last time...?"

Confusion clouded the recognition and Loki sighed, reaching up. Apparently, the soldier recalled just enough of their last encounter to know what he was about to do, because he immediately released his throat to pin both arms at his sides. Exasperated, but mildly encouraged, Loki struggled. He managed to wrench one arm free and reached for Bucky's head again, and again was thwarted. "Damn it, you stubborn fool! Let me remind you who you are!"

This went on for a few minutes, Loki attempting to free himself so he could dig through Bucky's mind, and the drone HYDRA had turned Bucky into constantly fighting to keep him pinned. He eventually spun Loki around to face the wall and pinned him again, both hands clutched behind his back in that damned metal vice grip.

The Trickster laughed, turning his head to glance at him over his shoulder. "Well, this is familiar, isn't it? It's been some time since we played this game."

The soldier didn't respond, but he did let up. Free at last, Loki turned, adjusted his clothing, and stepped back.

"Alright, Sergeant. We'll play this another way." For so many reasons, he wanted to get them both the hell away from the bodies. This was, after all, a crime scene, and while Loki could disappear with little issue, he couldn't leave his lover, nor the helpless shell of him, to be caught and incarcerated. And the smell of the young man's blood really was quite nauseating. With a playful smirk he hoped Bucky couldn't see was fake, he taunted, "Catch me if you can!"

Then he was gone. As he reappeared at the end of the hall, he reveled in the way his prey glanced around in confusion, and then radiated frustration when he spotted him. With a cheeky grin and a wave, Loki turned and fled, on foot this time. He could hear Bucky's heavy boots clumping along behind him.

Every time he heard Bucky begin to gain on him, Loki hopped a few yards ahead, but he was careful to always stay in the other man's line of sight. He didn't want to actually lose him, after all; the point was to make him chase. Finally they made it to a room at the opposite end of the hotel a few floors up from where they'd been, that Loki sensed was unoccupied. Not trusting the soldier to get the hint after his brazen double homicide in the corridor, he waited until he was sure Bucky could see him at the door, and then disappeared behind it.

Sure enough, the brute kicked the door open and followed him inside. With a laugh much more genuine than anything he'd managed in over sixty years, Loki simply waited. The exhilaration of the chase was still making his blood sing, and the frustrated determination in Bucky's eyes set his nerves on fire. In all his grief for the loss of the man he loved and his desperation to get him back, it had never occurred to Loki until this moment that there might be something in the obedient soldier to explore. Not obedient to him, but that was fine; that had never been their dynamic.

"It's alright, Sergeant," he assured him, hands out to his sides to show he wouldn't make a move. "I won't drag James out again. Not this time. It causes you both pain, and that isn't what I want."

"I don't care what you want." That voice, still monotonous and without emotion, made Loki smile even as the soldier closed the distance between them and shoved him roughly to the floor. He'd been prepared for that this time, and he went down easily on purpose, dragging not-Bucky down with him.

"Luckily, all I want is this." He tried to tug Bucky closer for a kiss despite the stupid muzzle, and pouted when he turned his head to evade him. Had they stripped him of his sexuality, as well as his free will?

No. He shifted position a bit and his thigh brushed over evidence that, even when Bucky vacated the premises, his body still felt.

But could he consent? That thought stopped him cold as he searched the soldier's eyes and saw only confusion and hesitation. Did not-Bucky even understand what was happening? Just how much of him had HYDRA stripped away and crushed down to the deepest corners of his subconscious in order to control him?

"What do you want, Sergeant?" No answer, naturally. He likely had never been asked that before. Heart hammering in his chest, Loki reached up and, moving slowly so as not to startle him, tugged Bucky's mask off. He was beautiful; unchanged since 1943, save for that unruly mop of hair. Rather than drop his hand back to his side, he stroked that long dark hair. "May I?"

Bucky flinched, eyes wild and still clouded with such confusion and uncertainty that it nearly broke his heart. He didn't move away, though, and Loki chose to see that as a hopeful sign.

"It's alright, my love," he murmured as, ever so painfully slowly, he let his hand come to rest on Bucky's head. "I won't dig, won't bring anything forward. Not this time. I'm just going to skim the surface, alright? Just organize things for you, just a little. Is that alright?"

The soldier closed his eyes and pressed his head against Loki's hand like a cat seeking affection. Heart swelling with gratitude for this small sign of trust, Loki closed his eyes as well, and searched as gently as he could. How much of you still lingers when you're like this? Of how much are you aware?

Though he tried to suppress it, ignore it, the errant thought still skittered through his mind: Do you even still love me?

There was no recognition; absolutely nothing remained of their time together in 1943, not up on the surface, at least. Loki's name fluttered vaguely through the soldier's surface thoughts, but only in the vaguest of recollections from their encounter in 1991. He didn't love him; he didn't even feel love.

But he did feel lust. Loki almost laughed as he found what he was looking for. The soldier had had sex before, with a lovely redheaded woman who'd gotten in his way during a mission. So, he understood the concept, at least well enough to know if he actually wanted to do it. There was some will remaining, then; they'd only stripped from him his ability to refuse an order. They would still burn for that.

Something else filtered through the static that did make him laugh, even as not-Bucky pinned him to the floor, holding both of his wrists down. He wanted him, but he had no idea what to do with him. He didn't have access to his memories of their relationship, so it really shouldn't have been a surprise, but Loki still couldn't help laughing.

1943 Bucky hadn't known what to do, either. Frankly, neither had 1943 Loki; the two young lovers had had to learn together, through frantic, awkward fumbling. He wouldn't mind teaching the soldier what he and Bucky had taught each other, but there was that small matter of a murder scene downstairs, and the fact that they were technically trespassing in a vacant hotel room. Then there was the mess he was contending with on Asgard.

"Alas," he told the man on top of him with a smile, "We haven't the time for much fun, especially not with your mind in such a scramble."

Reveling in the stunned look on Bucky's face, Loki shifted into a female form and made her clothing vanish, neatly folded and piled on a nearby chair. "Is this more familiar, love?"

"How did you...?"

She grinned, took advantage of his momentary distraction, and slipped out of his grasp. "I imagine this form will be a bit easier for you to navigate, yes? You certainly seemed to have little issue finding the right hole with her." Ooh, jealousy was not a comfortable feeling! Whoever this redhead, this Natasha was, Loki wanted to turn her world upside down and set it on fire for good measure.

But first... First she wanted to play. The soldier was on his feet, chasing her across the room and she laughed, nimbly evading him. He was stronger and faster than any other human, but still too bulky to be as agile as she was. She skirted his clumsy grabs for her every time, taunting him and occasionally blowing him kisses as she flitted around the room. Neither of them had time for this, but she didn't give a damn, at least for the moment. Loki hadn't felt Bucky's touch, his weight on him, in nearly seventy years; somehow in their time together, this female side had never been brought out to play. She wanted to feel him, but she wanted to make him earn it, first.

Too late, she realized she wasn't the only one playing a game when suddenly the soldier's arms were around her, quick as a striking snake. So, he was as agile as she was, after all. She found herself slammed back against the wall and that icy metal hand at her throat again, and with a grin, she leaned into it.

"One day, you'll have to tell me what happened there." With a fist in his long hair, she yanked him closer and finally got the kiss she'd been aching for. "But for now, Sergeant, I just want you to use it."

"Be careful what you wish for." Oh, lovely! Where had this playful streak come from, then? There was a gleam in his eyes that Loki hadn't seen since before the brainwashing. It wasn't quite a spark of the old Bucky, but it was something... Something passionate and deliciously feral. It seemed the pretty soldier had a dark streak that extended beyond cold-blooded murder.

"Do what you will, darling," she urged, bringing one long leg up to hook around his waist. "You can't hurt me."

"We'll see about that."

She smiled, purring when he yanked her tight against him and bit her neck. "Yes, I suppose we will, won't we?"

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Next Masterlist

#fanfiction #loki #bucky barnes #mcu #avengers #captain america #winter soldier #thor #m/m #some m/f #i know no one cares lol #don't care. i'll keep posting anyway #sebastian stan #tom hiddleston #winter's frost

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stevishabitat · 3 years

Text

The summer wasn’t meant to be like this. By April, Greene County, in southwestern Missouri, seemed to be past the worst of the pandemic. Intensive-care units that once overflowed had emptied. Vaccinations were rising. Health-care workers who had been fighting the coronavirus for months felt relieved—perhaps even hopeful. Then, in late May, cases started ticking up again. By July, the surge was so pronounced that “it took the wind out of everyone,” Erik Frederick, the chief administrative officer of Mercy Hospital Springfield, told me. “How did we end up back here again?”

The hospital is now busier than at any previous point during the pandemic. In just five weeks, it took in as many COVID-19 patients as it did over five months last year. Ten minutes away, another big hospital, Cox Medical Center South, has been inundated just as quickly. “We only get beds available when someone dies, which happens several times a day,” Terrence Coulter, the critical-care medical director at CoxHealth, told me.

Last week, Katie Towns, the acting director of the Springfield–Greene County Health Department, was concerned that the county’s daily cases were topping 250. On Wednesday, the daily count hit 405. This dramatic surge is the work of the super-contagious Delta variant, which now accounts for 95 percent of Greene County’s new cases, according to Towns. It is spreading easily because people have ditched their masks, crowded into indoor spaces, resumed travel, and resisted vaccinations. Just 40 percent of people in Greene County are fully vaccinated. In some nearby counties, less than 20 percent of people are.

Many experts have argued that, even with Delta, the United States is unlikely to revisit the horrors of last winter. Even now, the country’s hospitalizations are one-seventh as high as they were in mid-January. But national optimism glosses over local reality. For many communities, this year will be worse than last. Springfield’s health-care workers and public-health specialists are experiencing the same ordeals they thought they had left behind. “But it feels worse this time because we’ve seen it before,” Amelia Montgomery, a nurse at CoxHealth, told me. “Walking back into the COVID ICU was demoralizing.”

Those ICUs are also filling with younger patients, in their 20s, 30s, and 40s, including many with no underlying health problems. In part, that’s because elderly people have been more likely to get vaccinated, leaving Delta with a younger pool of vulnerable hosts. While experts are still uncertain if Delta is deadlier than the original coronavirus, every physician and nurse in Missouri whom I spoke with told me that the 30- and 40-something COVID-19 patients they’re now seeing are much sicker than those they saw last year. “That age group did get COVID before, but they didn’t usually end up in the ICU like they are now,” Jonathan Brown, a respiratory therapist at Mercy, told me. Nurses are watching families navigate end-of-life decisions for young people who have no advance directives or other legal documents in place.

Almost every COVID-19 patient in Springfield’s hospitals is unvaccinated, and the dozen or so exceptions are all either elderly or immunocompromised people. The vaccines are working as intended, but the number of people who have refused to get their shots is crushing morale. Vaccines were meant to be the end of the pandemic. If people don’t get them, the actual end will look more like Springfield’s present: a succession of COVID-19 waves that will break unevenly across the country until everyone has either been vaccinated or infected. “You hear post-pandemic a lot,” Frederick said. “We’re clearly not post-pandemic. New York threw a ticker-tape parade for its health-care heroes, and ours are knee-deep in COVID.”

That they are in this position despite the wide availability of vaccines turns difficult days into unbearable ones. As bad as the winter surge was, Springfield’s health-care workers shared a common purpose of serving their community, Steve Edwards, the president and CEO of CoxHealth, told me. But now they’re “putting themselves in harm’s way for people who’ve chosen not to protect themselves,” he said. While there were always ways of preventing COVID-19 infections, Missourians could have almost entirely prevented this surge through vaccination—but didn’t. “My sense of hope is dwindling,” Tracy Hill, a nurse at Mercy, told me. “I’m losing a little bit of faith in mankind. But you can’t just not go to work.”

When Springfield’s hospitals saw the first pandemic wave hitting the coasts, they could steel themselves. This time, with Delta thrashing Missouri fast and first, they haven’t had time to summon sufficient reinforcements. Between them, Mercy and Cox South have recruited about 300 traveling nurses, respiratory therapists, and other specialists, which is still less than they need. The hospitals’ health-care workers have adequate PPE and most are vaccinated. But in the ICUs and in COVID-19 wards, respiratory therapists still must constantly adjust ventilators, entire teams must regularly flip patients onto their belly and back again, and nurses spend long shifts drenched in sweat as they repeatedly don and doff protective gear. In previous phases of the pandemic, both hospitals took in patients from other counties and states. “Now we’re blasting outward,” Coulter said. “We’re already saturating the surrounding hospitals.”

Meanwhile, the hospitals’ own staff members are exhausted beyond telling. After the winter surge, they spent months catching up on record numbers of postponed surgeries and other procedures. Now they’re facing their sharpest COVID-19 surge yet on top of those backlogged patients, many of whom are sicker than usual because their health care had to be deferred. Even with hundreds of new patients with lung cancer, asthma, and other respiratory diseases waiting for care in outpatient settings, Coulter still has to cancel his clinics because “I have to be in the hospital all the time,” he said.

Many health-care workers have had enough. Some who took on extra shifts during past surges can’t bring themselves to do so again. Some have moved to less stressful positions that don’t involve treating COVID-19. Others are holding the line, but only just. “You can’t pour from an empty cup, but with every shift it feels like my co-workers and I are empty,” Montgomery said. “We are still trying to fill each other up and keep going.”

The grueling slog is harder now because it feels so needless, and because many patients don’t realize their mistake until it’s too late. On Tuesday, Hill spoke with an elderly man who had just been admitted and was very sick. “He said, ‘I’m embarrassed that I’m here,’” she told me. “He wanted to talk about the vaccine, and in the back of my mind I’m thinking, You have a very high likelihood of not leaving the hospital.” Other patients remain defiant. “We had someone spit in a nurse’s eye because she told him he had COVID and he didn’t believe her,” Edwards said.

Some health-care workers are starting to resent their patients—an emotion that feels taboo. “You’re just angry,” Coulter said, “and you feel guilty for getting angry, because they’re sick and dying.” Others are indignant on behalf of loved ones who don’t already have access to the vaccines. “I’m a mom of a 1-year-old and a 4-year-old, and the daughter of family members in Zimbabwe and South Africa who can’t get vaccinated yet,” says Matifadza Hlatshwayo Davis, who works at a Veterans Affairs hospital in St. Louis. “I’m frustrated, angry, and sad.”

“I don’t think people get that once you become sick enough to be hospitalized with COVID, the medications and treatments that we have are, quite frankly, not very good,” says Howard Jarvis, the medical director of Cox South’s emergency department. Drugs such as dexamethasone offer only incremental benefits. Monoclonal antibodies are effective only during the disease’s earliest stages. Doctors can give every recommended medication, and patients still have a high chance of dying. The goal should be to stop people from getting sick in the first place.

But Missouri Governor Mike Parson never issued a statewide mask mandate, and the state’s biggest cities—Kansas City, St. Louis, Springfield, and Columbia—ended their local orders in May, after the CDC said that vaccinated people no longer needed to wear masks indoors. In June, Parson signed a law that limits local governments’ ability to enact public-health restrictions. And even before the pandemic, Missouri ranked 41st out of all the states in terms of public-health funding. “We started in a hole and we’re trying to catch up,” Towns, the director of the Springfield–Greene County Health Department, told me.

Her team flattened last year’s curve through testing, contact tracing, and quarantining, but “Delta has just decimated our ability to respond,” Kendra Findley, the department’s administrator for community health and epidemiology, told me. The variant is spreading too quickly for the department to keep up with every new case, and more people are refusing to cooperate with contact tracers than at this time last year. The CDC has sent a “surge team” to help, but it’s just two people: an epidemiologist, who is helping analyze data on Delta’s spread, and a communications person. And like Springfield’s hospitals, the health department was already overwhelmed with work that had been put off for a year. “Suddenly, I feel like there aren’t enough hours in the day,” Findley said.

Early last year, Findley stuck a note on her whiteboard with the number of people who died in the 1918 flu pandemic: 50 million worldwide and 675,000 in the U.S. “It was for perspective: We will not get here. You can manage this,” she told me. “I looked at it the other day and I think we’re going to get there. And I feel like a large segment of the population doesn’t care.”

The 1918 flu pandemic took Missouri by surprise too, says Carolyn Orbann, an anthropologist at the University of Missouri who studies that disaster. While much of the world felt the brunt of the pandemic in October 1918, Missouri had irregular waves with a bigger peak in February 1920. So when COVID-19 hit, Orbann predicted that the state might have a similarly drawn-out experience. Missouri has a widely dispersed population, divided starkly between urban and rural places, and few highways—a recipe for distinct and geographically disparate microcultures. That perhaps explains why new pathogens move erratically through the state, creating unpredictable surges and, in some pockets, a false sense of security. Last year, “many communities may have gone through their lockdown period without registering a single case and wondered, What did we do that for?” Orbann told me.

She also suspects that Missourians in 1918 might have had a “better overhead view of the course of the pandemic in their communities than the average citizen has now.” Back then, the state’s local papers published lists of people who were sick, so even those who didn’t know anyone with the flu could see that folks around them were dying. “It made the pandemic seem more local,” Orbann said. “Now, with fewer hometown newspapers and restrictions on sharing patient information, that kind of knowledge is restricted to people working in health care.”

Montgomery, the CoxHealth nurse, feels that disparity whenever she leaves the hospital. “I work in the ICU, where it’s like a war zone, and I go out in public and everything’s normal,” she said. “You see death and suffering, and then you walk into the grocery store and get resistance. It feels like we’re being ostracized by our community.”

If anything, people in the state have become more entrenched in their beliefs and disbeliefs than they were last year, Davis, the St. Louis–based doctor, told me. They might believe that COVID-19 has been overblown, that young people won’t be harmed, or that the vaccines were developed too quickly to be safe. But above all else, “what I predominantly get is, ‘I don’t want to talk to you about that; let’s move on,’” Davis said.

People take the pandemic seriously when they can see it around them. During past surges in other parts of the U.S., curves flattened once people saw their loved ones falling ill, or once their community became the unwanted focus of national media coverage. The same feedback loop might be starting to occur in Missouri. The major Route 66 Festival has been canceled. More people are making vaccine appointments at both Cox South and Mercy.

In Springfield, the public-health professionals I talked with felt that they had made successful efforts to address barriers to vaccine access, and that vaccine hesitancy was the driving force of low vaccination rates. Improving those rates is now a matter of engendering trust as quickly as possible. Springfield’s firefighters are highly trusted, so the city set up vaccine clinics in local fire stations. Community-health advocates are going door-to-door to talk with their neighbors about vaccines. The Springfield News-Leader is set to publish a full page of photos of well-known Springfieldians who are advocating for vaccination. Several local pastors have agreed to preach about vaccines from their pulpits and set up vaccination events in their churches. One such event, held at James River Church on Monday, vaccinated 156 people. “Once we got down to the group of hesitant people, we’d be happy if we had 20 people show up to a clinic,” says Cora Scott, Springfield’s director of public information and civic engagement. “To have 156 people show up in one church in one day is phenomenal.”

But building trust is slow, and Delta is moving fast. Even if the still-unvaccinated 55 percent of Missourians all got their first shots tomorrow, it would still take a month to administer the second ones, and two weeks more for full immunity to develop. As current trends show, Delta can do a lot in six weeks. Still, “if we can get our vaccination levels to where some of the East Coast states have got to, I’ll feel a lot better going into the fall,” Frederick, Mercy’s chief administrative officer, said. “If we plateau again, my fear is that we will see the twindemic of flu and COVID.”

In the meantime, southwest Missouri is now a cautionary tale of what Delta can do to a largely unvaccinated community that has lowered its guard. None of Missouri’s 114 counties has vaccinated more than 50 percent of its population, and 75 haven’t yet managed more than 30 percent. Many such communities exist around the U.S. “There’s very few secrets about this disease, because the answer is always somewhere else,” Edwards said. “I think we’re a harbinger of what other states can expect.”

#covid 19 #pandemic #missouri

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noctomania · 3 years

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Just having a moment

Dad already had been fighting a lung infection for a while when the pandemic hit. After about the first year, I think, of the pandemic his health has steadily gotten worse. It's been one thing after another and now we're looking at a situation where he may be facing the end of his life. He can't breathe well on his own and he has an extreme phobia of wearing a mask so he's been apparently a bit difficult during the pandemic in terms of wearing a mask, but also now that he needs a mask to help him breathe. The only way they could get it to work was sedating him (with his permission) so he can wear it.

I'm at work rn but I'm not *here* really. I couldn't tell you anything about the last hour. Ive not cried, the only time i really felt close to crying was bc I was hearing my sister cry on the phone. I'd known this was coming and I guess either I'm prepared? Or just hasn't really hit yet? Idk. It's complicated bc my relationship with my parents lately has not been great, we don't really talk. I still haven't talked to my stepmom. I don't know how to explain why I feel a way towards them. Bc it's not like a blunt obvious issue yanno? It's just they have a culture about them that I don't deal well with i guess.

I don't know that I'll be able to speak to him before he passes, idk what the next steps are, and I can't be there so I'm just stuck knowing that things are going south and that I have nothing to do but sit and wait for the inevitable. It's not that I don't feel anything, I feel sick and tired and frustrated. But also plain overwhelmed so I can't even get the energy to deal with any of that feeling. I do care, I just deal with things differently bc I have to.

Anything to do with family immediately triggers a ton of shit I don't want to think about yet think about all too often. I can't shut shit off. And what's worse is there is also a part of my brain saying I'm selfish and petty and that nothing but other people's issues matter and all that shit. That if i had real problems I wouldn't be where i am. But then i remember I'm only where i am bc I have fought so hard to keep from giving up even though I have wanted, dreamed, fantasized about not having to fight anymore and just giving up.

Do you know how infuriated i get with myself when I am triggered by a fuckin pill bottle bc I feel like I'm the one who made myself mentally ill? But i have to give myself grace and remind myself that I'm not in a tunnel and that isn't Destiny - i just need to let the moment pass and the moment pass and the moment pass. That nobody makes themselves miserable on purpose. That not all issues have a place to lay blame. That the important thing is to try to take care of myself. Which is hard when I'm not getting the prompts I should or don't understand them or whatever.

When i last talked to dad he said he'd always been proud of me. Idk why or how. I'd never really thought about whether or not I make them proud. Idk why. I've felt just difficult, inconvenient, a financial drain. When i moved into their house they put me to work as soon as it was legal, when it was exhausting me bc I was in school and literally hurting bc my feet are shit, I was shamed for quitting. When I was turning 18 i was given an ultimatum to either go to college - which I did not want to do bc I had no idea what I wanted to do & it was a lot of money - or move out and find a way to live off of what a queer 18yo in texas fresh out of high school could find to sustain them. Somewhat homeless during college, as every holiday and summer break it was like ok who is going to let me sleep on their couch while the dorms are closed? Eternally grateful to those who put me up here. Can think of at least 3 households who did. I hate accepting help. It was humbling and I always tried to be a good guest. I never felt like I was good enough and always felt like a burden despite never being treated as such by these households. They treated me as family.

That continued as college ended going from couch to a full time live-in temp job to scrambling to find an apartment that I couldn't really afford when ppl couldn't put me up anymore. Applying to over a hundred jobs. Then landing an overpriced room in a precarious situation I was too naive at the time to navigate that also almost landed me on the street. When I reached out to my parents just for guidance on what I could do, they took it as me asking to move in with them (which i never asked for that i recall), said they couldn't help me, and that I'd have to sign up for the military if I was struggling (which was illegal at the time bc of the trans ban they clearly didn't care to know about despite knowing their son is trans) Anyway...

Idk what there was of me to be proud of. What did I do? What you told me to do? Is that what you're proud of? My submissiveness? Ruining my life for your opinion?

He also asked if I was happy. Happy? In this world? In this pandemic? I said I'm content bc at this point I didn't feel allowed to complain about anything but certainly couldn't lie. I wasn't allowed to feel vulnerable about what I'm facing every day. Someone always has it worse.

Well no shit someone always "has it worse", bc that's not a real standard. Am I not allowed to say it's hot out bc people in hell don't get snow cones?

Part of self care I've had to learn is that grace with yourself and taking yourself seriously. This is a very hard thing to do for some of us. Some of us will let ourselves get to a point where it's worse than had we dealt with it earlier on. Some of us struggle with knowing what it looks like to ask for help or where or how or even allowed to. Or even necessarily to know when we should.

I'm trying to balance the self care with trying not to be self-absorbed. I'm trying to still differentiate between the two as somewhere along the way I'd been taught they are the same when it comes to me but nobody else. I'm trying not to believe this whole post is self pity bc it's really just relaying the facts. I just can't help but imagine the shit being talked about me behind my back bc I know it happens.

Idk there's no real end to this and i should be more focused at work. I just needed to dump this off.

#dear god im an emotionally complex person but i dont feel like i have permission to be

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justablogfullofrandomrandomness · 4 years

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Okay, over the past couple of days I've been writing something. It's the Avatar episode The Blue Spirit told from Zuko's perspective. Hope you enjoy, I worked pretty hard on it.

I had many..... What some may call.... Misadventures while searching for the Avatar. Some that people know about, others that are a close kept secret. Especially that one day. But, I'm not above admitting I do think about it a lot. I'm still confused by it. But, it's not like I can ask anyone about it. No one knows, and I'm not going to tell anyone about it, ever. However, the Avatar knows, and if he knows there's no question whether or not his friends know too. But it's not like I can go talk to them, we're enemies. Nothing will change that, not even this. Let me start from the beginning. Not the 'beginning' beginning, the beginning of this story. It started at the Pohuai Stronghold, one of the most secure bunkers the Fire Nation had. Nearly impossible to break into, but I didn't need in. I just needed on the tower. The black hood and the blue mask I wore were a precaution, in case I was seen, which I wasn't planning on happening. But if I was, no one would know it was me. And my Uncle says I don't think things through. I think them through enough! I climbed up the wall in time to hear the conversation between Zhao and Colonel Shinu.

"Absolutely not." Shinu was saying, clearly furious. "The Yuyan Archers stay here. Your request is denied, Commander Zhao."

"Colonel Shinu, please reconsider. Their precision is legendary. The Yuyan can pin a fly to a tree from one hundred yards away without killing it." I looked down to where the Yuyan were practicing their marksmanship. They clearly lived up to the legend. "You're wasting their talents using them as mere security guards." Zhao continued. I hated that guy so much.

"I can do whatever I want with their talents. They're my archers, and what I say goes." Shinu snapped. Zhao scowled at him.

"But my search for the Avatar is-"

"Is nothing but a vanity project. We're fighting a real war here, and I need every man I've got, Commander."

"But-" Shinu cut him off again.

"That's final! I don't want to hear another word about it." Zhao glared at him, but before either could do anything else, a bird screeched. We all glanced towards it as the Messenger Hawk flew to the tower.

"News from Fire Lord Ozai?" I heard Zhao asked. There was the sound of paper rustling. "It appears I've been promoted to Admiral." Zhao remarked, no doubt with a smug smirk painted across his face. "My request is now an order." Zhao walked out to the balcony and looked down at the Yuyan Archers. His archers now. I scowled from behind my mask. The last thing Zhao needed was more power. He was big enough of a problem as a Commander. I climbed down the tower, deciding it was time to leave.

The next day I was back on my ship, in the navigation room. Lieutenant Jee and I were hovering over a map as my Uncle played Pai Sho with some other crewmates in the corner. It was weird, ever since the storm, everyone, especially Jee, had been treating me different. More tolerant. I know Uncle said something to them, but what exactly he said, I wasn't sure. It didn't matter, though. At least they all weren't at my throat anymore.

"We haven't been able to pick up the Avatar's trail since the storm," Jee was saying. He pointed to the map. "But if we continue heading Northeast-" He cut himself off when a large shadow passed the window. It was another Fire Navy ship, and one of the bigger ones.

"What do they want?" I questioned.

"Perhaps a sporting game of Pai Sho." Uncle spoke up, rubbing his hands together. When the soldiers boarded the ship and entered the navigation room, they held out a scroll for us to see. It was a wanted poster for the Avatar.

"The hunt for the Avatar has been given prime importance. All information regarding the Avatar must be reported directly to Admiral Zhao."

"Zhao has been promoted?" My uncle asked, his finger resting on a game piece as he considered his move. "Well, good for him." He finished, pushing it across the board with a smile. The two crewmates he was playing against groaned. I looked away from the soldiers.

"I've got nothing to report to Zhao. Now get off my ship and let us pass."

"Admiral Zhao is not allowing ships in or out of this area." The soldier said. I scowled.

"OFF MY SHIP!" I shouted, filled with rage. Uncle didn't seem to be paying much attention to what had just happened. He was focused on his game.

"Excellent, I take the pot." He pulled the money towards him. "But you're all improving. I'm certain you will win if we play again." I turned away from the others, looking out the window. I went up to the deck and started running myself through Firebending moves furiously, needing to blow off some steam. I knew Zhao's promotion was going to give me issues, but I had no idea it would quite literally halt my search. I didn't know what to do. I kicked one last blast of fire, exhausted, breathing heavily.

"Is everything okay?" I heard my uncle ask from behind me. "It's been almost an hour and you haven't given the men an order."

"I don't care what they do." I snapped.

"Don't give up hope yet. You can still find the Avatar before Zhao." I turned around, looking at him desperately.

"How, Uncle? With Zhao's resources, it's just a matter of time before he captures the Avatar." I turned away and moved to the side of the ship, looking out at the water. "My honor, my throne, my country, I'm about to lose them all." In the two and a half years I had been searching, it had never felt more impossible. I screwed my eyes shut, driving my fists into the metal rim of the ship. "No, I can't lose them. I will not. I refuse to let Zhao win." I pushed off the side and walked off.

"Where are you going?" Uncle asked me as I passed him.

"To figure out a way around Zhao's restrictions. I'll be back." I went to my quarters and looked at the swords on my wall for a moment before taking them down and forcing them into a scabbard. I went to my table and pulled out the blue mask, looking down at it's wide grin. Whatever was going to happen, it would be for the best. It was what needed to be done. I left alone. I didn't need any help from anyone else. They would only slow me down.

When I arrived near the closest village, I quickly changed into a black outfit with gloves and a hood, only touch of color was the blue mask. I listened carefully, hoping Jee was right about his predictions. That's when I overheard some guards walking down the dark street by the alleyway I had crouched in.

"The Yuyan Archers didn't even have to try, I heard they took him down in an instant."

"Guess all that talk about how strong he is was just a bunch of Firelord propaganda after all. Did they kill him?"

"Don't you know anything about the Avatar? If they kill him, he'll just be reincarnated and then they'll have to start their search all over again! No, they're keeping him at the Pohuai Stronghold until they can safely transport him or something. Either that or they'll just keep him there, which seems like the best option considering his reputation." My eyes widened and my breathing hitched as the guards conversation faded from my earshot. Of course they took him to the Pohuai Stronghold, because when was anything in my life easy? I sighed. It's okay, it was all under control. I just had to get to the stronghold and hopefully by then I would have thought of a plan..... Maybe now that I think about it, Uncle had a point about me not thinking things through. Don't tell him I said that.

A few hours later, I watched from the bushes, studying the area before me. It's like I said earlier, the Pohuai Stronghold was one of the most secure fortresses the Fire Nation had, and no doubt the Yuyan Archers would be there, guarding their prize. Sneaking onto a tower to eavesdrop on a conversation is one thing, but actually getting in? That would be difficult. Then I got an idea. There was a road nearby. If I timed it just right, I would have a chance. I waited in silence, mask hiding my face, it would be better if no one knew it was me. Especially the Avatar. After what felt like ages of waiting, I heard it. A supply cart. I waited for the opportune moment before quickly rolling under the cart, grabbing onto the bottom and holding on tight. It stopped at the gate, and a guard checked the back, looking to see if the supplier was trying to sneak anything in. I held my breath as I watched the feet on the other side of the cart, quickly slipping out the other side and climbing into the back behind a crate as the guard checked underneath.

"All clear. Go on in." The guard said. The cart started to move again. I was in. When the cart stopped to be unloaded, I slipped out, sneaking past the guards and running into a nearby stairwell. I could hear Zhao, giving his speech of victory.

"Until today, only one thing stood in our path to victory. The Avatar! I am here to tell you that he is now my prisoner!" Zhao shouted, his voice triumphant. Cheers roared from the crowd. I was crouched as I snuck across the wall, doing my best to ignore Zhao. I had to stay focused. I dropped a rope down the side of the wall and slid down, quickly ducking into a sewer grate. So what if I got a little wet? I effortlessly squeezed through the bars, more cheers roaring from the guards Zhao was entertaining with his gloating. I knew even then his hunger for power would be the death of him one day. I managed to get into the hallways without a hitch. Well, except for that one guard that I stumbled upon. Knocked him out and took his helmet, deciding I could use it. When I reached the corridor I knew they were keeping Aang in, I threw the helmet down. The metal clanked as it hit the floor, rolling to a stop at the guards feet. I heard footsteps of an approaching guard and when he rounded the corner, I took him out, gagging his mouth and hanging him from the ceiling by his arms with a chain. A few seconds later, two other guards turned to corner and stared at the first guard. They didn't even notice me up in the ceiling above them. Too bad for them. The fourth and final guard hadn't left the door. He knew something was wrong and reached for the horn on the wall to alert other guards. I ran down the hall and threw a knife, knocking the horn out of his hand. He saw me coming at him and instinctively shot a blast of fire at me, which I counteracted by throwing a bucket of water at him, and sweeping his feet out from underneath him. I hit him over the head with the bucket, just to be sure. Then I knelt down and pulled his keys from his pocket, unlocking the door and looking at the boy who had caused me so much trouble. The Avatar was chained, defenseless. Everything I had wanted the past two years, served up to me on a silver platter. I drew my swords and his eyes widened with terror. Undoubtedly, I looked like some kind of demon. But I didn't care. I ran at him with my swords and he screamed, screwing his eyes shut and looking away. He opened his eyes when he felt the swords cut the chains. He looked up at me in shock. I realized in that moment he really had no idea who I was. I stepped closed to him and broke the metal cuffs off his wrists and then did the same with his legs, sheathing one of my swords.

"Who are you?" The Avatar asked. "What's going on?! Are you here to rescue me?" I opened the door and gestured for him to follow me, ignoring his questions.

"I'll take that as a yes." The boy remarked, following me down the hall. I got a bit a head of him when I heard him gasp.

"My frogs!" He shouted. "Come back! And stop thawing out!" I took a deep breath and went back for him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and dragging him away from the half frozen frogs he was trying to stuff into his pockets. "WAIT! MY FRIENDS NEED TO SUCK ON THOSE FROGS!!!!" I had no idea WHY he said that, or what he meant by it, but I really didn't want to know. I lead him through the halls, back the way I came, and straight to the sewers. I could see the silhouettes of guards moving overhead and I gestured for the kid to press against the wall so we wouldn't be seen. He was worried, I could see it in his eyes, but I made no move to comfort him. Instead, I left my head through the grate, peering around. Once I decided the coast was clear I gestured for him to follow me up and I climbed out. The Avatar followed after me, having to jump up to grab the bars as he was much shorter than me. I lead him back to where I had climbed down on the rope and he started climbing up the wall, me following short after. We were halfway up the wall when a loud bell rang out. We'd been made.

"There! On the wall!" A guard shouted. Another guard ran up on the top of the tower and cut the rope and we both fell back towards the ground. The Avatar sent a blast of air beneath us, cushioning our fall so we didn't break anything on impact with the ground. Smart kid. We'd need that quick thinking if we were going to get out of here alive. I drew my swords, ready to defend myself. I pointed towards the open gate and I bolted for it, the kid right behind me. Guards ran at us from all different directions as Zhao shouted orders from above.

"Stay close to me." The Avatar said, running in front of me, sending a huge gust of wind at the guards who blocked our path. He got a little bit ahead of me and two guards ran at me at once with their spears. I stopped to fight them off, the kid not seeming to notice. More and more guards came and pretty soon I was surrounded, but I wasn't giving up. I had so much more to fight for. If I gave up here there would be no more hope. I felt a large rush of air and suddenly all the guards had been swooped away. The kid had come back for me. He was holding a spear with the sharp bit broken off. A makeshift staff. He looked at me for a moment before he waved his staff at me, sending my flying through the air, landing on top of the wall. I quickly got to me feet, ready to fight off the guards that were coming at me when the Avatar flew up to me himself, spinning the staff over his head to keep himself airborne. He grabbed me by wrapping his legs around my chest and we took off into the sky again. He struggled to keep in the air with my added weight, every once and a while dropping a few feet, during which I decided I wasn't a fan of flying. Spears flew at us from the ground and I focused on kicking them away before they pierced us, which only made us descend faster. We crashed on the middle wall hard, and I dropped my swords on impact. Only one more wall to clear and we were free. Well, I would be free. I pushed myself up on my elbows, my chest and stomach aching from hitting the stone so hard. The Avatar quickly got up, trying to grab his staff, but a guard kicked it off the ledge and started swiping at him with his sword. I got to my feet myself and grabbed the guard, throwing him off the wall. I quickly grabbed my swords again and we stood back to back. I ran at a couple of guards and the kid sent blasts of air at the ones coming at him. And then he took out the ones I was facing. But we didn't have much time to breath. Guards from below were propping bamboo ladders against the wall and were using them to scale it. The Avatar took multiple guards out at once, clearing off two of the ladders while I struggled on the one. There was only so little I could do with my swords compared to giant blasts of wind. But right now I wasn't the Fire Prince. I was a vigilante. As I knocked the final guard off the ladder, the Avatar handed me the two other ladders.

"Take this!" I looked down at the ladders in confusion as the kid jumped on the third ladder and it started to fall down. "Jump on my back!" He exclaimed. I quickly did as I was told, still holding onto the ladders. He took one of them from me and aimed it down so that when the other one fell, it stood up straight. I realized what he was doing. He was trying to propel us over the wall. "Give me the next one!" I handed him the next one and he did the same. The guards below seemed to see what we were doing and one set the ladder on fire, forcing the Avatar to jump off earlier than what would have been ideal. We both tried to grab onto the ledge, but neither of our grips were strong enough and we fell down the side of the wall only to be surrounded by Zhao's men. I drew my swords again, ready to fight. All at once, they fired their blasts at us, the Avatar quickly moving in front of me to block the blow with a blast of air.

"Hold your fire!" Zhao shouted, causing all the soldiers to stand down. "The Avatar must be captured alive!" In that instant I knew what I had to do. I grabbed the Avatar and held my blades against his neck threateningly. He tensed, but made no move to escape, knowing what I was doing. Zhao seemed to know too. We made eye contact for an intense moment before he spoke again. "Open the gate." He glowered, not breaking my stare.

"Admiral, what are you doing?" One of the soldiers asked.

"Let them out, now." The gates creaked open behind us and I slowly backed out, glancing behind me ever so often to make sure I wasn't going to back right into a tree. Now that would be humiliating. I didn't know how far I had to go, or what I was going to do after we escaped, only that I had to put as much distance between me and that stronghold as possible. I glanced behind me and looked up again just in time to see something flying towards my face. It hit my mask, knocking me back. I fell to the ground, and everything went black.

When I came too, I was staring right up at the roof of a forest. The sunlight pouring in through the leaves told me I'd been out for a long time. I groaned, glancing around, my vision a little blurry. To my surprise, the Avatar was sitting right beside me, on a tree root, his knees drawn tight to his chest. He didn't even look at me before he started to speak.

"You know what the worst part about being born over a hundred years ago is? I miss all the friends I used to hang out with. Before the war started, i used to always visit my friend Kuzon. The two of us, we'd get in and out of so much trouble together." He smiled, remembering the happy memories of his past. "He was one of the best friends I ever had. And he was from the Fire Nation, just like you." He finally turned to look at me. "If we knew each other back then, do you think we could've been friends too?" I didn't hesitate. I jumped up and sent a blast of fire at him, hoping to catch him off guard. The Avatar flew into the air, clearly expecting it, and disappeared through the trees. I looked after him for a moment before kneeling down to pick up my mask. That's when I saw he'd made a bed for me out of leaves. I shook my head. I would never understand that kid. When I arrived back on the ship, my Uncle was on the deck, playing his Tsungi Horn beside that horrible antique monkey that he bought from the pirates.

"Where have you been, Prince Zuko?" He asked as I walked past him. "You missed music night! Lieutenant Jee sang a stirring love song." I didn't turn around as I walked down the hallway, in no mood to deal with his antics.

"I'm going to bed. No disturbances." I said quietly, bringing a hand to my head, which was still throbbing from whatever knocked me out. I laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, a million thoughts running through my mind. He knew who I was. He knew it was me, and yet he still saved my life. But why? Why didn't he just leave me there for Zhao? His life would've been so much easier. He had to have known. So why didn't he let me die? I glanced to my side, looking at the Fire Nation insignia on the wall. Was I wrong? Hunting him? I shook my head, rolling over on my other side. No, it was my destiny. I had to capture the Avatar. It was the only way for me to return home. For things to return to normal. I pushed the seed of doubt to the back of my mind, not wanting to think about it, and I closed my eyes.

No matter how long I think about it, I never could figure out why he didn't leave me there. He's saved my life twice by this point, once at the stronghold and once at the North Pole. Sometimes I wish I could ask him why, or more specifically how does he find it in his heart to show people like me mercy. But I can't. No matter what, we will always be enemies until the day we die. But.... Maybe, just maybe he was right. Maybe we could've been friends, if things were different. But they aren't. It'd like I said, we're enemies. The Fire Prince and the Avatar. But.... No. I shouldn't even be thinking about it. I have to capture him. It's the only way for me to restore my honor. For my father not to think I'm worthless, and I am not worthless. I'll show them. One day.

#avatar the last airbender #the Blue Spirit #Zuko #aang #iroh #zhao #yuyan archers #writing project

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gordonwilliamsweb · 3 years

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If You Are Vaccinated, You Can Dance the Night Away

Marissa Castrigno was walking through downtown Wilmington, North Carolina, when she spotted the sign in the window of one of her favorite dance clubs. After months of being shuttered by the pandemic, Ibiza Nightclub was reopening April 30, it announced.

This story also ran on Raleigh News & Observer. It can be republished for free.

Thrilled, Castrigno immediately made plans with friends to be there.

About 50 miles north in Jacksonville, Kennedy Swift learned of Ibiza’s reopening on social media. He, too, decided to attend with friends.

But on the night of April 30, the two groups were in for a surprise — one they would react to in starkly different ways.

In addition to IDs, they learned, they’d need to show covid-19 vaccination cards for entry. The club was letting in only people who had had at least one shot.

“I was shocked,” said Swift, 21. He learned of the policy a few hours before the reopening, when the club posted it on its Facebook page.

He and his friends had to cancel their plans, since none of them was vaccinated.

“I’m not against [Ibiza] exercising their rights as a business,” Swift said. “I just think it’s foolish. … This will discourage a lot of former patrons from returning to the club.”

On the other hand, Castrigno and her friends, most of whom had been fully vaccinated since early April, felt the policy made their return to nightlife even better.

“There was raw excitement about going out to a place and feeling safe,” said Castrigno, 28.

Similar conversations are playing out across the country as vaccination rates increase and bars, clubs and other businesses navigate how to reopen. The concept of vaccine passports — which allow people who have been inoculated against covid and are at lower risk of contracting or spreading the disease to participate in certain activities — has been floated for clubs, cruise ships and other spaces where large groups gather in close quarters. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s recent announcement that vaccinated people can safely gather indoors and outdoors without masks has reignited the idea. Yet these passports remain highly controversial and their implementation is largely piecemeal. Many private businesses are making their own decisions, and governments in different parts of the country are adopting varying stances.

In New York, for instance, Gov. Andrew Cuomo announced in early May that places where proof of vaccination or a negative covid test are required can operate at a greater capacity. Some nightclubs there have implemented policies similar to Ibiza’s. In Florida, however, Gov. Ron DeSantis recently signed a law prohibiting businesses, schools and government offices from requiring proof of vaccination, with fines of up to $5,000 per incident.

For Ibiza Nightclub in southeastern North Carolina — a political battleground state — the vaccine card requirement is proving to be a lightning rod. The club’s Facebook post announcing the policy had sparked 70 comments as of mid-May, and posts across other platforms echoed different sides of the issue.

“I am thrilled to see a personal business putting the health and safety forward in order to keep their business running,” one comment read.

Others took a markedly different tone: “This is pretty dumb!”

“Discrimination, expect lawsuits,” read another.

The Honor Code

Last week, after the CDC said vaccinated adults could largely live their lives mask-free, Raleigh restaurant owner Hisine McNeill felt a troubling pang of déjà vu. He owns Alpha Dawgs, a sandwich shop in southeast Raleigh, and said small businesses like his carried the burden of mask enforcement for much of the pandemic. Now, he said, they’re tasked with trusting adults who say they’ve been vaccinated. He isn’t ready to do that.

“I don’t have the luxury of taking chances on an honor code,” McNeill said. “If I have an outbreak because someone didn’t wear a mask and have to close down, who’s going to help keep me open?”

McNeill opened Alpha Dawgs in 2018 and, like most restaurateurs, he said, struggled through the pandemic, professionally and personally. He said he has lost friends and family members and doesn’t believe the pandemic is over.

“I know people personally in the ICU still recovering from [covid],” McNeill said. “I don’t need any more examples about how serious this is.”

So McNeill posted a new requirement on the restaurant’s Facebook page. He asked everyone to continue wearing masks unless they were prepared to show him a vaccine card.

“To whom it may concern,” McNeill wrote. “If you decide to come into my establishment claiming that you are fully vaccinated, I WILL ASK TO SEE YOUR CARD. If you don’t want to provide it then you will have to wear a mask in my store. And if you still don’t want to comply with either then I have the right to deny service. Thank you for your cooperation.”

The day after he posted that statement, North Carolina Gov. Roy Cooper eased most covid-related restrictions in the state, including its mask mandate. The Alpha Dawgs post stirred some online debate over masks and vaccinations and led to a few responses, including one from the Raleigh Republican Club.

“Should you be in the area…,” it read. “Eat somewhere else….”

McNeill felt the Raleigh Republican Club was calling for a boycott. Afterward, he noticed multiple one-star reviews pop up on Google, not from people who had been to the restaurant, but people accusing McNeill of discrimination.

“This is not political for me, this is a personal belief,” McNeill said. “I have an 85-year-old grandmother I see every other week. I’m going to make sure she’s protected.”

Raleigh Republican Club board member Guy Smith said the group’s post was written collectively, but he didn’t see it as a call for a boycott.

“Our philosophical position is it’s his business, the owner can choose to do what they choose to do within the confines of the individual business,” Smith said. “Our philosophical position is, to demand someone to demonstrate they’re vaccinated with a card, we think that’s out of bounds.”

Smith said the group also condemns writing bogus reviews of a business.

McNeill said Alpha Dawgs’ business has not suffered from the online dust-up.

“I haven’t had any problems,” McNeill said. “Only the online harassment.”

The Nightclub Expected Opposition

Charles Smith, general manager of the club, said he knew the policy would garner backlash, but “we’ve always put the health and safety of both staff and our patrons, and their families, first.”

Since opening as a gay bar in 2001, Ibiza has been a pillar of the LGBTQ community in Wilmington. Although its clientele has expanded over time, it’s still known for drag shows on Friday nights.

Last year, the club shut down March 12, about a week before Gov. Cooper ordered all North Carolina bars and restaurants to stop dine-in service. Ibiza remained shuttered for 14 months, using the time to renovate, Smith said, and leaning on federal and state assistance for small businesses.

When it came to reopening, he said, “the question was: How do we provide the absolute safest experience alongside the nightlife experience we’ve been known for?”

It wouldn’t be easy. Nightclubs are a perfect cocktail of covid risks: lots of people socializing and dancing in close quarters. Alcohol lowering inhibitions. Music forcing people to speak louder, releasing more droplets into the air.

“The concept of social distancing in a nightclub is an oxymoron,” Smith said. And the club’s staff didn’t want to be “the police of nightlife,” trying to separate people on the dance floor, he added.

The safest option, it seemed, was to require people to be vaccinated.

The club waited till all adults in the state were eligible for vaccines before reopening.

Now Ibiza requires patrons to present their vaccine cards or photos of the cards for entry. On reopening night, the club asked customers to wear masks and limited its capacity to 50%, per an executive order from the governor. But as of May 14, the state lifted its capacity restrictions and masking requirements.

Castrigno, who’d been looking forward to that night for weeks since she saw the sign in the club’s window, said it was “the most jubilant I’d ever seen Ibiza.” Several performers put on a drag show. Customers took turns dancing on poles. Some people wore masks with rhinestones to match their outfits, she said.

She wasn’t surprised that many people took the vaccine requirement in stride. “Queer people are well versed in the risks of public health crisis and protecting the community,” she said, referring to the AIDS crisis, which devastated the community in the ’80s and ’90s.

For James Colucci, who has been a customer since 2016, supporting Ibiza’s vaccine policy is about protecting the club’s employees. Some of them have “spearheaded the [LGBTQ] movement, so we can get together and have events like this,” he said.

But others say the policy is discriminatory and injects the nightclub into people’s personal health care decisions.

Joey Askew, a 37-year-old from Greenville, wrote on Ibiza’s Facebook page, “I’ll never go back to this club until they lift this mandate!!”

In an interview with KHN, Askew said he’s not ready to get the vaccine because there haven’t been lifetime studies of recipients to determine long-term side effects. He’s willing to wear a mask and maintain physical distance, but a vaccine requirement goes too far.

“A mask is something I can buy from anywhere and take off whenever I choose,” he said. “But I can’t take a vaccine out. It’s a permanent choice that [the club] is involving themselves in, and it’s not their place.”

In between the people condemning the club’s policy and those applauding it are many who are conflicted.

Mark Russell, 29, is a nurse in Washington, D.C., who cares for covid patients and contracted covid last year. He plans on visiting Ibiza Nightclub in late May while attending a small wedding in North Carolina where everyone will be vaccinated.

The club’s policy makes him feel safer, Russell said. But he also worries about its effect on people of color, who in many places have faced barriers to vaccination.

“It’s a battle in my own brain, thinking those two things,” Russell said.

For Heidi Martek, 55, the policy raised a personal question. “What about those who can’t get the vaccine?” she wrote on Ibiza’s Facebook page.

She has an autoimmune disease, making her body hypersensitive to any vaccine, Martek said, even the flu shot.

But when commenters on Facebook suggested she sue the club, Martek pushed back. The club is facing difficult choices, she told KHN, and there’s no right answer.

“Whether I can go in or not, I support them,” said Martek, who’s been a patron at Ibiza for six years.

She wants the club to survive the pandemic, unlike other establishments that have closed in the past year.

“It’s not like Wilmington is overwhelmed with LGBTQ clubs,” Martek said. “Ibiza is really important.”

News & Observer reporter Drew Jackson contributed to this story.

KHN (Kaiser Health News) is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues. Together with Policy Analysis and Polling, KHN is one of the three major operating programs at KFF (Kaiser Family Foundation). KFF is an endowed nonprofit organization providing information on health issues to the nation.

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If You Are Vaccinated, You Can Dance the Night Away published first on https://nootropicspowdersupplier.tumblr.com/

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jeminy3 · 5 years

Text

Blind Roy - Office Woes

This was meant to be part of a series of more Blind Roy drabbles, titled and focused on things like being back in the office, conversations with each individual team member, talking grimly of the future with Grumman, etc. But all my writing juice went into other stories (like the Elicia story, The Things We Carry), so they never really came together. This is just leftovers.

Features: Blind Character PoV, insecurities, workarounds for disabilities, Team Mustang being supportive like a good team should.

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Disclaimers:

- Realistically, Roy would be forced to retire from the military because of his blindness, but I didn't double-check that until I'd written out most of this because I'm PRETTY sure that in Brotherhood, he says something about continuing to pursue his goals despite his blindness. But whatever, it's an AU.

- I know Braille wouldn't exist in the FMA verse, or would go under a different name, but whatever.

Also, here’s another Roy doodle.

Roy's first day back in the office was difficult - much more difficult than he imagined.

He spent the majority of the day shuffling slowly around rooms with arms outstretched, running into walls, knocking things over, feeling his way around doorways and chairs and tables, much like - well, a blind man. He would've laughed at himself, if not for the quiet shame and anger that gripped him.

And a strange sort of denial did, too. Years from now, he'd look back on these days and realize that his biggest mistake was thinking he could somehow function exactly like he used to and therefore not become a burden to those around him. Because the worst parts of it all were his constant, stubborn refusals to accept help, even from his own squadron.

It takes him almost two weeks before he finally relents to using a cane at everyone's suggestion, after growing incredibly tired of crushing his nose, bumping his head, stubbing his fingers and toes, and wounding his pride in front of other officials while navigating their offices.

The sounds of people snickering softly behind his back hurt more than all his bumps and bruises combined. He expects them to multiply upon starting use of his cane, but to his surprise, they don't, and eventually stop altogether.

He gets a reason why when he offhandedly comments on it one day, as he's getting ready to head home for the evening.

"Another day done, I suppose. Almost surprised I'm still in one piece."

He hears a questioning sound from Riza. "How do you mean, sir?"

"Well, besides surviving the day without hurting myself for once-" He gestures with his cane. " -I haven't heard any, shall we say, disrespectful sounds from anyone in my vicinity. Maybe they're finally wise enough to hold their snickering for when I leave the room."

Riza makes an odd sound, as if holding back a laugh herself. "Well I wouldn't say that, sir..."

"...Hm?"

There's a shifting of fabric from Riza's uniform, as if she were lifting an arm to adjust her collar.

"Just between us, sir, if it eases you... myself and the others may be responsible for that. I've done my best to shut down any potential disrespect towards you during our meetings, and Fuery's encouraged us to take problem folk aside and give them, as he says, 'a good talking-to' about your condition."

There's a lightening in her voice, as if she's smiling. "And it looks like our efforts have paid off."

Roy was silent for a good few seconds, gaping a bit. He was... shocked, a little, that his squadron would go so out of their way for his comfort, even his pride.

Eventually, he'd learn to stop being so surprised.

Progress on paperwork nearly came to a complete halt during his first few days.

Unable to read, Roy had asked Riza to read the forms aloud to him before he signed them, but that method quickly proved to be inefficient. Not only was listening to Riza's droning voice a battle to stay conscious by the end of the day, but the strain on her soon proved to be too much.

"-and so, as per the order of Colonel Roy Musta- Agh. Ack." Riza chokes, then breaks down into a coughing fit.

"...Lieutenant? Are you alright?" Roy asks, snapping out of his boredom.

It takes a few seconds before she's recovered enough to respond, and when she does, her voice is still noticeably rough. "I'm- Urgh- I'm sorry sir, but I don't think this will work. I'm losing my voice," she says hoarsely.

Roy does his best to stave off a surge of panic. These forms need to get done. "Er- Well... Then uh, bring Falman in to take over until you recover, Lieutenant."

He hears her sigh softly. "Apologies again, but I have to disagree, sir. Falman has his own duties and can't spend all his time reading to you. Same for the others."

"...Besides, he's not even here today," she adds. "He's out on reconnaissance, remember?"

Roy sighs deeply, sinking into his desk and rubbing his temples. "...I'd forgotten. Sorry, Lieutenant. It's just- the meetings, the forms- it all blends together sometimes. You know."

Riza makes a "hm" noise in agreement, but nothing else. An awkward silence falls, and Roy can imagine her staring him down accusingly, since she'd already suggested a better alternative earlier today, but Roy had refused it, as usual.

At this point he was just delaying the inevitable. He lets out a long, loud groan of defeat. "Fine, fine. I'll stop putting it off. I'll try to learn that 'brell' language you told me about."

"It's called Braille, sir."

He waves a hand dismissively. "Yes, yes... And we'll have to reprint everything with that special paper... Ugh, the print department's going to moan at me, I just know it."

"I should hope not. Not when their Colonel has a disability that needs accommodation."

Disability. Roy flinches a little at the word, associating it with years of well-meaning but nonetheless other-ing societal norms. Nursing homes, therapy wards, parking spaces and public seating set aside and marked with garishly-colored signs.

"Er- Can you... not call it that, Lieutenant? It's not disabling, just ah- challenging, that's all," he says.

He hears her sigh again, and the sound of her uniform shifting, then feels her hand on his shoulder. Her voice is soft, perhaps softer than intended from her hoarseness, but there's something undeniably sincere in it.

"Roy, please... it's alright."

Her voice is closer to him now, and Roy can imagine her leaning down with a small, gentle smile near his face, offering tender support against his bull-headed stubbornness that masked a deep, all-consuming shame inside him. It eases him, a little.

Roy breathes out slowly, relieving a tension in his shoulders he hadn't noticed was there.

"I... I'll try, Riza. Thank you."

Luckily for everyone, the Braille system works out better than expected.

Frustrated with the amount of time it took to reprint everything traditionally, Roy, in his usual manner, came up with the brilliant idea of using Alchemy to convert them instead.

It takes some time and convincing to the higher-ups, but eventually, with the help of Major Armstrong and a few other alchemists, Roy creates a new and fairly simple system. All one has to do is place a stack of documents, along with a small amount of extra wood chips, in an array that instantly thickens the paper and raises the correct pattern of bumps, both for letters and lines to write into.

Then it's arranged for a specialized alchemist to be tasked with learning braille, translating documents, then recreating them using this process.

It turns out to be quite a bit faster and more efficient than traditional printing methods, since mistakes happened rarely compared to the sometimes-unwieldy machines, and in turn, this significantly cuts down on costs from maintenance and wasted paper.

East Headquarters’ Treasurer and Senior Accountants commend him for the idea and its execution, and begin sharing the idea with the officials at every other military office. Soon there’s talk about installing a similar system in every printing facility throughout Central City, even the country beyond, potentially opening up a significant breakthrough in readership for the similarly-disabled.

Roy was just happy he could finally fill out his paperwork by himself with little issue, but he’s certainly not above claiming it as another of his many impressive achievements.

As for writing out new documents himself, the solution was more simple. He has Riza bring in a typewriter to type his words as he says them aloud to her, and uses a ruler to keep his signatures straight on the plain, non-textured paper. Then the proofs are brought to the printers to reproduce as proper forms.

It took time - a long time - but eventually, Roy forms a mental map of not only his office, but of his personal apartment, the surrounding hallways and rooms of the apartment building, the whole interior of East Headquarters, and everywhere else he frequented on his daily routine, largely helped by his memory of what they looked like before he lost his sight - and by his squadron, of course.

Eventually, he also learns to stave off the irrational fear that things could be switched around without him knowing, that doorways and furniture would change position for no reason, and he didn't have to feel and re-feel everything every other day just to make sure. Slowly, he learns to trust himself and his connection to this dark world that was familiar, but at the same time strange and terrifying.

And of course, his squadron would never be so discourteous as to move something in his office without telling him.

#roy mustang #fma #blind!roy #riza hawkeye #team mustang #jeminy3 art #jeminy writes

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 13)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 2562

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy, @carryonmyswansong, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sighed in content as you lied naked in your husband’s arms. You rubbed his chest admiringly. “Mmm. I’ve missed this. How long has it been since we had time off together?”

“Too long.”

“I know, it seems like every time we take vacation it either ends too soon or it’s not a vacation at all. This has been pure heaven. No work stress, no family issues, just… bliss,” you happily said. Even with the turmoil of guilt crashing inside you like waves, you didn’t deny yourself happiness around Spence.

“I know. It’s been great.” He kissed your head.

“You’ve been kind of quiet,” you noted. “Last night and all day. Everything okay?”

Now who was profiling their spouse?

“Yeah… I just… I’ve been thinking…”

At first, you thought he might bring up babies. Something you weren’t quite ready to discuss, so your body stiffened in response.

“What about?” you encouraged, fighting the rising anxiety.

“Uh, something someone told me,” he remarked.

You sat up and peered at him. “What’s up? Everything okay at work?”

You worried something happened that he didn’t tell you about.

“Well, it’s kind of about work,” he admitted.

A deep frown formed on your pretty features. “Spence, come on. What’s going on? What happened at work?”

He sighed and sat up. He put his arms on his raised knees while you sat cross-legged, looking at him.

“You remember a few weeks ago, right before Rossi’s wedding? When everyone said I got trapped in a jewelry store?

You nodded.

“Remember how I told you that JJ played a game to keep the unsub distracted?”

“Yeah, you said it was truth or dare,” you noted.

“Right. Well, uh, JJ picked truth.”

You frowned, having no idea where this was going.

“She tried to tell them about her miscarriage, about how she only trusts four people in this world, but he wouldn’t accept it. He told her to tell him about something she’d never told anyone, something she was afraid to share.”

Gears started to turn in your head as bile started to bubble in your stomach.

“She turned to me and said she loves me. That she’s loved me for years but now everything’s complicated and she didn’t know how to tell me.”

For a moment, the world was silent. Except your erratic heartbeat and the rushing noise in your ears. Other than that, time stood still. You didn't hear the birds outside, or worry about cars on the street, or wonder what Dexter was up to, or think about the next killer.

Then your mind rocketed back to the wedding. That’s why JJ and Spence were acting so weird towards each other. That’s why she ripped her hand away from his chest…

It took every ounce of self-control you’d learned from the FBI and Dexter to not completely flip out.

You turned to Spence and asked, “So… what did you say?”

“Nothing. It was a tense situation and I was trying to focus getting out of there.”

“Right,” you agreed, nodding, losing your patience. “But after that? On the jet? In the parking lot at work? At Rossi’s wedding? Did you tell her you didn’t feel the same?”

“Well… no,” he admitted and immediately you jumped out of bed and started throwing your clothes on. “Wait, Y/N, wait, I didn’t tell her anything because I thought it was implied,” he stressed as he scrambled out of bed to grab your arms.

You wrenched away from him. “No, Spence, that isn’t how it works! You don’t just leave that open for interpretation! Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to tell you because I don’t feel that way about her so--”

“That doesn’t matter! Between taking nearly a month to tell me and not telling JJ to fuck off, this looks really bad, Spencer! God damn!” You were throwing on your bra and underwear. “I mean, how the hell would you feel if Luke told me this, and I just didn’t say anything and didn’t tell you?”

“It’d make me feel bad but I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

You threw your hands up and laughed without humor. “Well you fucking failed in that department! I saw the way you two were acting at the wedding.”

“That’s because ever since she’s confessed, I feel rather uncomfortable around her and I don’t know how to act. She’s still my friend but she’s harboring these feelings that I can’t return and I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Yes, let’s please spare her feelings,” you snapped, venom encasing every letter.

“Y/N,” he sighed.

“Don’t Y/N me,” you hissed. “She’s got kids, she’s got Will, for Christ’s sakes. Speaking of, you two dated years ago, don’t think I fucking forgot.”

“I didn’t expect you to. It was one date, that was hardly a date.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “That doesn’t diminish the fact that once upon a time, you had feelings for her that went beyond friendly.”

“And I stopped feeling those feelings years ago, before we even met,” he reminded.

“That doesn’t... “ You shook your head, your hands in your hair. “I can’t do this. I’m leaving tonight.” You went to the closet and grabbed your suitcase.

“Y/N,” he pleaded as you opened it up. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going back to Miami, early. Fuck this. You two lied to me, she’s lying to Will, you kept this from me, and you didn’t tell her you don’t have feelings. Whether you don’t or not, isn’t the point, Spencer, the point is that you left it open for her to think maybe there’s something there and that is not okay.”

“I didn’t say it was but I--”

“You what? There is no excuse for not immediately shutting down any and all thoughts for you two unless you do have feelings for her.”

“I don’t,” he said emphatically.

“Yeah, you know what, right now it’s hard to believe that. Between the crush, the lying, the keeping secrets, the weird shit at the wedding, not telling her no, and the fact that you’ve been working together for years…” You shook your head, this was all way too fucking much right now. “That’s another thing. She’s had fourteen years to fucking say this, and she waits until now? Now? When I’m not even in the state, when I’m busy and indisposed in another part of the country. She tells you this? You don’t think that’s odd? She could’ve told you any time. She could've told you before we met, before we got married, before she got married… But it’s just fucking funny that she waits until I’m out of the picture to tell you. Does she think she has a chance with you because you’re missing me or what the hell is it?”

He looked at you, his face a mask of upset. “I don’t know. Other than the unsub’s game, I don’t know why she waited. You’re right, I should’ve told her I don’t feel for her the same way. I just… she told me in the jewelry store, and I was focused on us getting out alive. Then after that, discussing it on the jet didn’t seem right. Next thing you know, you’re here for Rossi’s wedding and we’re having sex, then at the wedding, and again, not an ideal place to discuss it. After that, I tried not to think about it. I just hoped if I ignored it and pretended not to indulge her, we’d move on.”

You sighed. This made sense. This was how Spence worked. But right now, it felt really horrible.

“Did you find out if she was even being real? I mean, maybe she was just doing it to play his game,” you offered, hoping there was some way out of this.

“Yes. At the wedding, I asked if she meant it. She said she did.”

You took another deep breath, slowly nodding, fighting like hell to keep yourself in check.

“Spence… Right now, I feel like I’ve been betrayed, I almost feel like you cheated on me. I mean, you two haven’t had an affair or a one night stand that I need to know about, right?”

He scoffed. “No. Absolutely not.”

“I believe you for that but, the rest of this… I don’t know. I’m just going to need some time.”

“Y/N. Please. Please don’t go. Stay. We can talk about this,” he pleaded.

“I don’t think I can, or want to. You’ve said your piece, I’ve said mine, there’s nothing more to say.”

“Well maybe I could sleep downstairs,” he offered. “I don’t want to lose you.”

You bit your lip to keep from crying. At this point, you had no idea what you were going to do or say or even think about doing. These two kept something pretty huge from you, from both of their spouses, and now, he just wanted you to believe it meant nothing? If it meant nothing, he would’ve said something to you long ago. Maybe he didn’t say anything at first to you because he wondered if he felt the same.

“Did you wait so long to tell me, because you were wondering if you felt the same? Were you trying to gauge your own feelings before you definitively told me.”

“No. I didn’t tell you because I thought it was pointless for you to wonder, worry, and stew on someone else’s feelings that I don’t return.”

“Well, I guess that backfired, didn’t it? Because now that’s all I’m going to wonder, is why keeping this secret between you two was more important than being honest with me.”

With that, you grabbed your purse, phone, and keys and left the house.You weren’t headed for the airport just yet, but you couldn’t be in the same house with him. Not right now.

The darker side of you was encouraging you to go to JJ’s house and kick her ass, or worse. But the practical, moralistic side of you knew that was just too drastic. JJ might be a bitch but she didn’t deserve murder.

Instead, you drove for about thirty minutes, until suddenly, a little bar came into view. You pulled in, went inside, sat at the bar and ordered a drink. You began thinking this whole thing over. You wondered if you should just go back and apologize to Spencer for overreacting. You wondered if you should make Spencer order to be kept away from JJ at work. You wondered if you should request he be kept away from JJ. You wondered if you should confide in Emily or Garcia. You wondered everything from leaving Spencer, to running back into his arms.

You two had faced problems before -- losing Emily, JJ lying to you about Emily, him suffering with using Dilaudid, him going to prison wrongly. You’d seen him at his worst. You’d helped him back up. You’d helped him with his schizophrenic-alzheimer’s mother. You’d seen him lying on an operating table for bullets that might’ve killed him. You’d been pried apart by trial and tribulation. But now… for some reason, this had to be the worst thing you’d faced. Because you weren’t on the same team. This time, you were against Spence.

All your time together, you’d been on his side, fighting with him. Now, he was the obstacle, he and JJ were the thing you were trying to overcome.

For about another hour, you sat and thought, turning over every word, every gesture, every interaction you could remember about those two. Did it seem like Spence returned the feelings and he wasn’t being true to you, or maybe true to himself? That rather came up empty. You weren’t 100% sure Spencer was being honest about how he felt about JJ, but by now, you felt if he did harbor feelings towards her, it would’ve surfaced before now. Or maybe not, maybe this was all he was waiting for.

Round and round you went in your head, trying to figure out if you could trust him again. What you could or should do about this.

Finally, you at least knew one thing you should do. You pulled out your phone and called Will.

“Hello?” he answered, his accent coming through thick. Will was someone you always really admired. He was a great cop and he seemed to adore JJ and their boys. He seemed like a fantastic husband and he was always incredibly kind to you.

“Hey, Will,” you greeted.

“Oh, hi, Y/N. Everything alright?” he asked.

“Uh, I’m not sure. Do you think I could come by your house in a little bit? I just need to talk to you. Shouldn’t take long.”

“Uh, yeah, that’d be fine,” he said, clearly uncertain of what was going on.

“Great. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

You hung up, paid for the drink and left. You’d only had the one drink, and that was over an hour ago.

You pulled up, double checking for JJ’s car, and since it wasn’t there, you knew she was still at the office. You went up, knocked on the door, and Will greeted you.

“So is everything alright?” he asked immediately, letting you in.

“We’ll see. Hey, where are the kids?”

“Upstairs.”

“You got someplace… private, we can talk?”

“Sure, in the office. Follow me.”

He led you down a short hallway to an office where he closed the door. He sat in one chair in front of a desk and offered for you to do the same.

“Look, I’ll make this quick and short. Did JJ say anything to you after that case just before Rossi’s wedding?”

“Uh, other than her and Reid getting locked in a jewelry store. No.”

“Did she tell you she had to play truth or dare, to stall the unsub?”

He shook his head. “No. She told me how they caught him, went in, they surrendered their guns, how they were held at gunpoint, then that Reid shot the guy. That’s ‘bout it.”

“Okay, well, Spence just told me they played truth or dare. JJ’s truth was… well… she told Spence she loves him. That she has for a while now, but because of things being ‘complicated’, she hasn’t told him.”

He sat there, dumbfounded, shaking his head.

“No, no. Now hold on. They’re best friends. Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand, or maybe he misunderstood?”

You shook your head. “No, Spence said he… he said he verified with her that she was talking about romance.”

“Well maybe it was just to please that killer. You know, I mean, she deceived y’all for a long time about Emily’s death.”

Again, you shook your head. “I know this is hard. Believe me, I’m reeling too. I just thought you should know, that’s all. I don’t think it’s fair to keep you in the dark. Spence told me, and now I’ve told you.” You stood to leave and he followed.

“Well, wait, did Reid say he felt the same or anything?”

“He denied feeling that way vehemently to me. He might be lying, but at this point, I’m not sure what he would have to gain by lying. So, I don’t think he feels that way toward her.” You reached up and squeezed his arm. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging:

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#inside the criminal mind #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #dexter #dexter morgan #dexter morgan fic #dexter fic

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lizzytheauthor · 4 years

Text

Hey-o, not sure where I’m gonna upload my writing yet, probs google drive but I haven’t gotten around to it yet, so here’s the prologue to the new thing! Also, this is going to be horror, so if you are unnerved easily, or don’t handle horror easily, you might want to avoid this. There will be themes of questioning reality, loss of time, loss of free will, and more. I’ll try to tag what’s applicable this prologue is (mostly) tame though.

Prologue

“You know, you’re lucky! This center has only been open for about a month. People are already raving about how it’s going to ‘revolutionize the field of psychology’. It’s booked straight through the next year.”

I continue staring out the car window. Whatever this state worker thinks is comforting...well, clearly she’s never actually talked to a kid before, or rather, taken note of their reactions.

“’Completely cured in two weeks of less!’ Doesn’t that sound great?” she continues.

She’s practically begging for me to feed into her. I don’t.

“Well, I’ve already taken a handful of kids there, and they have seen remarkable improvement so far.” she pauses, to see if I say anything.

I see this, center? No, this looks more like those old crazy houses in the horror films. The kind that have ghosts around every corner. The bronze plaque on the gate reads, ‘The Institute of Revolutionary Hypnosis’. Two weeks and I’ll be cured? Sounds unlikely. How can you ‘cure’ someone of the trauma of seeing...I don’t buy it.

We pull up and get out of the car. I look up at the building, and spot a woman staring at me through the window, 3rd floor up, long brown hair or black? It’s a bit creepy, but I suppose you find those kinds of people here don’t you?

“Come on, now, please?” I hear a tinge of irritation in her voice. Which she quickly tries to mask with that please at the end.

It only comes off as bitter to me. I’ve always been good at reading emotions though, maybe to others they wouldn’t see it.

As we walk towards the door I see two very large, very intimidating, men on either side of the double doors, which also seem larger than normal. Maybe. Between them is a lady, she seems young, but still older than me.

She lets out a far too cheerful, “Hello! You must be…?”

The social worker answers for me, “Ah, this is,” she reads her clipboard, “Ralph Gingham?” she looks over at me for confirmation, I nod. “He’s scheduled for treatment, you should be expec-”

“Yes! Ralph! We’ve been waiting for you. C-PTSD, right? Probably some other things rattling around in there too, eh?” the receptionist lady says this with a smile that seems off. I don’t like how happy she is discussing my mental illness. This whole exchange feels off and artificial. Like they are both read the lines for a play, and I’m trying to guess the blanks.

“Yea, I was under the bed when my parents were killed. I guess it fucked me up or something.” I can’t help myself, maybe it’s their cheerfulness. I can’t stand the happiness of everyone around me, while I’m…

“Well aren’t you a cheery one!!” she interrupts my thoughts with the statement. Not a question. “Well, let’s get started with the tour! I can take him from here.”

Almost imperceptibly, I feel like I see her wink, at the state worker. No, maybe not. I don’t know. Maybe. Who knows?

We enter the lobby, past the large men. I get the feeling I won’t be getting past them if I think about fleeing. It’s large, and mostly empty. There’s a desk, with a chair and a computer, and a phone. The typical stuff you would expect from a reception desk. Some potted plants scattered around, although they look fake. Nothing offensive, and perfectly normal.

“So, let’s start! I’m sure you’re dying to see where you’ll be staying for the next two weeks!” Every word out of her mouth feels rehearsed, very well rehearsed.

“Uh, sure. I guess.” As we walk into the first hall, it only just occurs to me that none of my stuff is here. Wait, “Oh, hold on. My backpack, I left it in the-”

“Oh no worries, I’m sure you can handle two weeks without your game boy!” she sticks her tongue out at me, and I’m immediately offended. “All your clothes, food, entertainment, everything! We supply it here. No pesky outside communication to disturb your thoughts, your recovery.”

I have no reason to trust her, but I can’t exactly go running out the front door. So, I guess that’s that. I’m excommunicated from the world for two weeks.

We walk through the hall, I think I missed what the receptionist said. I feel like we’re heading towards a cafeteria, but that’s all that is, a feeling. The hall is spotless, no smudges, no cobwebs, nothing. I’d swear it was painted yesterday, but as I drag my hand across the wall, no paint comes off on me.

I bump into the now stopped receptionist.

“Excuse me, could you not do that?” she asks me.

“What?” I feign ignorance, though I know she’s talking about my hand along the wall.

“The uh, dragging your hand. Hitting the doors bothers the other...roommates” the pause she has before roommates bothers me, but not nearly as much as the fact that I didn’t notice any doors in the hall before. Normally if I drag my hand along a wall I can feel the gaps for a door, or something.

I didn’t with this hall. I decided to just listen to her, and walk obediently by her side.

“Thank you!” she resumes her cheerful tone and her quickened pace.

We enter the cafeteria, and it’s tidy. Not quiet, but not loud. The first thing I notice is that the people in here seem to be of widely varying ages. Some old ladies, some younger boys.

“I didn’t realize everyone here was so...varied.” I say.

“Oh yes, there’s no issues between roommates, since the treatment just works that well. Honestly, we cure you after just two or three sessions, but we need to keep you for a little longer to make sure nothing comes back.” she points to a sign in the cafeteria, ‘Days since last incident: 439’

“I thought you just opened last month?”

“I don’t know where you learned that, but no, we’ve been open for 439 days,” she pauses, smiling at me, “as you can see, we’ve never had an incident. And we don’t expect that to change any time soon.”

I don’t believe her. I don’t know, maybe I don’t believe the social worker. Who knows. I’ve never heard of this place either way, and I can’t exactly look it up, can I?

We make our way to the line workers, the people serving the food. All of them are smiling as they work, which doesn’t seem. I don’t know, it seems off, but not overtly so. “Hi Miranda,” one says with a wave.

“Hey Brian, how are you feeling today?” neither of them breaking their smile

“Fantastic! Here for some food?” it was just then that he notices me, “Oh! Hello sport. How are you?”

Miserable, actually, thanks for asking.

“I’m good. Thanks.” the words leave my lips, but they weren’t mine. Maybe they were? Miranda gives me a look, it makes me feel like she’s happy that I said that.

“Wonderful, always great to hear. Want some pizza? It’s pizza Friday!” he says this with such conviction, I believe him.

I could’ve sworn it was Thursday though. Maybe the days are just blending together, I’ve never been great with dates, even in school.

“Uh,” I look at Miranda.

“He can have a slice, we do have a schedule to keep though.” she says, glancing at her watch.

I happily accept the plate, with a slice of pizza. Maybe I’m just hungry, that’d explain some of the off-ness, right?

We continue walking, we exit the cafeteria, and enter a different hall. I think. Honestly, I can see myself getting very lost here, “Hey, Miranda. What do I do if I get lost?”

She responds, “Oh, you won’t get lost, I promise. This tour is very informative.”

Never breaking her cheerful attitude. She certainly seems confident. This place must take in other types of mental illness? Certainly not everyone is great at navigating this place. I mean, I got lost my freshman year of high school over a dozen times. My high school must have been at least half the size of this place, if not smaller.

On the second floor it’s just...doors. So many doors, and halls.

“This is where most people sleep, obviously the caretakers won’t be sleeping here, but all the roommates do.” Her use of caretakers unnerves me.

“Caretakers? Why do you keep saying roommates? Will I have to share a room?” I can’t stop the questions. They just kinda spill out of me.

“Oh, a quizzical one. The doctors, the watchers, me. That’s what I mean by caretakers, just people who will be taking good care of you.” she pats my head, which makes me feel condescended to. “As for the sharing a room, yes, you will. Just one, we have two people to each room. Most people like the company.” She smiles at me again. “Trust me, you’ll love them.”

Each door has a number and a plaque next to it, with two names each. Seems similar to the hospitals I’ve seen. We walk through a couple hallways, and we stop at room 39. I read my name, ‘Ralph Gingham,’ and underneath, the name, ‘Pete Mozzato’.

“Here’s your room!” she opens the door as she says this. This Pete isn’t here, so I guess he’s out and about. “Pete is really swell, I think you’ll get along nicely.”

“How old is he?” I ask. Again, without thinking.

“He’s 19, same as you.” she gives a brief pause, “We don’t segregate people during relaxed activities, like eating, or playing, or such. But we do try to match each person with a person the same age for sleeping arrangements. ‘It helps the circadian rhythm’”

She says this, but I don’t really understand, nor do I think that’s true. Either way, at least I’ll have someone who can relate to me somewhat.

“And that’s it! You’ll see that we have some decent outdoors equipment, and activities, in the back. Kinda hard to miss those.”

“But, I feel like I haven’t seen a whole half the building, let alone the 3rd floor!” I may have raised my voice a bit.

“Hush, hush. No need to raise a fuss. The third floor is for treatments, you’ll see it plenty. The rest is just other rooms. You’ll see there’s bathrooms scattered about, and you know where the cafeteria is. You also know where there’s activities. That’s all you need.” she walks into my room, expecting me to follow.

And I do.

“I’m sure you’ll want to relax a bit, your schedule is printed on the calendar on your half of the room, Welcome to The Institute of Revolutionary Hypnosis!” She closes the door behind her as she says this. I want to go open the door and yell at her, but I don’t.

Schedule says my first ‘treatment’ is at 9am. I look at the clock, on the wall above the door, and see that it’s already 8:01pm. It’s strange. I didn’t even notice the sun going down, but a glance out the window confirms it. Guess I’m here, let’s hope this helps me.

#horror #my writing

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