#there were many close calls but somehow i avoided it even before the vaccine

[lakemichigans]

i think covid might’ve finally gotten me 😭

[harcove]

hiiiii! <33 i dont know if you are taking any requests but can you write a leon x reader in which the reader gets bitten? (i love drama lmaoo)

love uuuuuu<3333

Okay so I do have like a bunch of other stuff to finish in my inbox, but I tend to not do things in order of when I get them, I do them in the order of whatever I get done first (since I start them all whenever I get them and work on them over time) and whatever I'm getting the most inspiration for at the moment, and this baby right here: chefs kiss right now. I LOVE angst so much, it is my favourite thing to write.

Also I'm always open for requests! It's just a matter of when they get done, since like I said above, and also my final year of uni just started so oof. ALSO: Decided to do RE2 Leon oop... I hope that's okay!

I LOVE YOU TOO! Here you go bb,

Warnings: angst, blood/gore, injury, character death

Length: 2.8k (I- oop.)

Request: in the ask!

RE2 Leon Kennedy x Reader - Not you.

Your hand squeezed your thigh with as much strength as you could muster. It wasn't that it was hurting too much yet, you were still running off the shock and adrenaline from the events moments before that the pain hadn't yet settled. Dark blood oozed between your shaking fingers and coated your hand like you had just decided to dip your hand into a bucket of red paint. It was hardly sanitary considering the situation you were in, dirty and sweaty, having been going through the sewers earlier.

The undead man who had done the deed lay a few feet away with your survival knife Leon had given you stuck in his temple. You could see your own blood and flesh on his face, in his mouth. It was unnerving, and you usually wouldn't have noticed such a detail, except that it was your skin. Your blood. Your body.

You inched yourself towards the corpse and used the tip of your foot to make sure it wasn't still going to get back up. When it did nothing after a few pushes, you deemed it safe enough to take your knife back. With a few hard tugs, it dislodged itself with a squelch and you fell back against the wall behind you, exhausted.

The sudden sharp pain that run up your leg into your spine and made you arch your back for a moment as you stopped breathing forced you to pay attention to the wound on your leg. Hesitantly, you moved your shaking fingers away from the bite on your leg to take a peak.

There wasn't really a point to looking at it, you realized moments after you laid eyes on it. It wasn't going to fix anything, and there was nothing for you to assess. A bite was a bite, and you knew what it meant. Leon and you had seen what happened to Marvin. You yourself had seen a friend turn after being bit before you had gone to the RPD. So you knew.

The skin near the bite was incredibly hot to the touch, and even without touching it, you could feel the heat coming off your skin. Your jeans sported a hole where the bite was and you wondered if there was anything in your bag to cover it with. It was ugly to look at, and scary.

You let out of deep sigh as you closed your eyes. There wasn't much you could do but sit there. Leon was somewhere inside the NEST, and you were at the entrance. You weren't sure if you wanted Leon to find you dead or alive, but all you knew was that this was not something you nor him could fix.

It felt like hours had passed when Leon had shown up. But in reality, it had only been about half of an hour. Whatever was in the bite, whatever the virus really was, had done a number on you as you felt sweat bead at your forehead and slowly trickle down the side of your face. The furrow in your brow from the pain almost felt like it was permanent.

"Y/N!" He called out when he spotted you. He looked worse for wear, that was for sure. The way his shirt had been ripped on the sleeves, and the bandage you could see just beneath his shirt and RPD vest. He was caked in blood, sweat, and dirt too.

And yet he was a welcome sight for your tired eyes.

He quickly slid onto his knees and if you weren't in so much pain yourself, you would've winced at how harshly he landed on the hard floor, but it didn't seem like he was affected by it.

"I'm so glad I found you," he said breathily; he reminded you of a little puppy, and it made you want to squeeze him close to you, "what happened, what-"

Your hand squeezed your leg unconsciously and he looked down when you did so, his beautiful blue eyes resting on your bloodied hand and whatever you were covering up. His eyes looked back up to you almost hesitantly, asking to look. When a half-smile was your only response, he looked back down and focused on your leg.

His hands gently pried your fingers off your leg and he carefully let your hand go on your lap, giving them a squeeze.

"I'm..." he seemed at a loss for words, you would've been too, "I have to... Cut this away to see it better, okay? It's..."

Carefully he used his own survival knife to cut away at the pieces of your jeans, which were dyed deep red around the wound, so he could see it better. Your hand came up to his shoulder as he did so, peeling the bloody fabric away from it as much as he could without hurting you, and you squeezed his shoulder so tightly, fighting the urge to scream in pain. But he didn't seem to notice, or care, about the harsh grip you had on his shoulder.

"Oh. God..." it was said softly, almost as if he had no air left inside him to breathe, let alone speak.

"It's really ugly, I know," you tried to make the situation less dire, but it didn't seem to work, because Leon just looked at you with his big eyes, full of so many negative emotions.

"It's not..." even Leon didn't know what he was doing to say as he trailed off. He began searching through his pockets till he came up with a bottle of antiseptic that looked half empty.

"It's gonna be okay," he finally spoke again as he started to open the bottle, but your hand reached up and seized his own holding the open bottle above your leg.

"Don't use that," you pushed it closer to him and further from your leg, "you can't afford to waste that."

"I'm not wasting it."

You hadn't heard him sound so sure of his words, so... Angry. You hadn't known the boy long, but that was the first time you'd seen him react that way to anything. It made your push your lips together in a thin line, but you kept your hand on him, stopping him from using the antiseptic.

"I'm pretty sure we both know how this ends," you prompted slowly, "I don't think an antiseptic is going to fix it."

"The vaccine is here somewhere, it has to be," he stated firmly, "we just need to find it. It's going to be okay."

It wasn't that you didn't trust him, or that you didn't believe him. But how long was it going to take to find a vaccine? And how did you truly know you were going to find one? You didn't even know if it would work.

You didn't have much say when Leon moved to put your arm over his shoulder, and looked at you, counting to three before he helped you off the ground.

It worked initially: you had managed to stand up with the help of the rookie cop beside you, who kicked the zombie that had done the deed further from you two when you had gotten up. But it didn't last long, as pain shot through your leg and seemed to spread through your entire body. You could barely keep yourself upright even with his help, your body felt too weak to even function.

"Leon, I can't," you cried, falling back against the wall, "I can't."

"Damnit," Leon cursed under his breath, looking around him urgently before he left you against the wall to open a door across from the two of you.

He was missing for less than a minute when he came back out from the room and quickly came back to you. One of his arms reached under your legs while the other went to your back.

"I'm going to pick you up, okay?"

Ever the gentleman, even when you were definitely dying.

"My hero," you smiled softly but it came out as more of a grimace as he lifted you up like you weighed nothing.

You supposed training to be a police officer meant he wouldn't have trouble carrying fully grown human beings.

The room was dimly lit by a single lamp. There was a bed right across from the door, and a desk close to the door. Someone must've used this room as not just a study but a place to sleep. Like a bedroom.

Leon gently placed you on the bed in the room, being careful on how he placed you, and never taking his focus away from your leg.

"Okay," he breathed out pulling back, "I'm going to go find the vaccine. And then we're going to get out of here. Together."

It was a wonderful thought. It was the dream, right? For everything to be okay, for you to be fine, and for the two of you to get out of Raccoon city and away from this mess. Together.

And yet you knew it wasn't going to happen, you knew you weren't getting out of there. You knew you were dead. And it was a scary thought to have to face alone because you wanted so badly to live. To live with him.

He would've been out that door had you not reached your hand out and grabbed his hand as best you could, squeezing it as hard as you could.

"Don't," your voice cracked as you swallowed hard, the ache in your chest only growing when his pained expression met yours, "don't leave me. Leon..."

"But I need to..."

It was blatantly obvious to not only yourself but also to him that there wasn't anything he could do. Not anything he could do in time for you. He didn't even know what he'd be looking for exactly, but he'd go find it if he could. He'd do anything to help you. To save you, and keep you near, but there wasn't anything he could do. It was a cold hard truth, and one he so desperately wanted to avoid.

But he couldn't.

Not when he looked at you, and really looked. Not just second glances over your form and your leg that lasted seconds as his blue eyes frantically moved like they were trying to find something they couldn't. No, when he really stopped and stared at you, he couldn't avoid it.

Your skin was ashen and you were covered in a thin layer of sweat. Your eyes somehow looked like they had sunken in a bit, and looked dull compared to what they usually looked like. The way you breathed was alarming, it was shallow and sounded tiring, and then some moments it would speed up only to slow down moments later. You were in pain, and you were hardly there anymore.

"Y/N..." Leon's voice cracked, and you never thought you were going to see him cry. He held your hand back tightly and noted your fingertips felt cooler, "This isn't happening. Not to you."

"I should've paid more attention..." you said softly, "I don't... I don't want to die."

"I should've been here, I should've..." he exhaled through his nose, "damnit!"

"I'm not letting you blame yourself," you sternly interrupted him and squeezed his hand as best as you could, "not now. Not ever. None of this is your fault..."

Leon said nothing as he took to the ground beside the bed, kneeling right beside you. His face was close to your own as he leaned forward, his hand still holding your own tightly, which he brought up to your chest where your intertwined hands sat.

"Just..." you knew what you wanted to say but you didn't want to make the hurt worse, "just... promise you won't forget about me? And promise... Promise you're going to get out of here. Alive."

"I could never forget you," he said hurriedly as if he was offended you would have even thought he could forget you, "even if I wanted to, I could never..."

There was something there, between the two of you, that was trying to lay itself bare, but something was stopping it. There was something unsaid, simple words that were hard to say and had so much meaning, so much weight. But neither of you could say it.

If you did, not only would it be the first time, but also, the last time.

With your remaining strength you slipped a ring off your finger; it was an old thing, something that you had for a while and you didn't even remember why you got it or where you got it, but you always wore it just because. It had no sentimental meaning, but now it did as you pushed it into his hands. The look of confusion on his pained face made you smile slightly.

"So you always have a piece of me," you said, "and if you ever try to pawn that off I will come back and find you, Kennedy..."

His eyes trained themselves of the silver ring in his hands, it was so plain, just a band. But it was yours. It was you. It was all he could keep of you, he realized because this wasn't going to end with your life. Pocketing the ring, he took your hand again.

"I might just sell it then if you show up," he tried to make you smile, which it worked, but he also felt the need to reassure you, "I won't get rid of it. Ever."

"Good to know," you let go of his hand again and pulled out the gun in the holster that he had found for you in the station, inside was a round of ammo that you wouldn't need. Pulling out the ammo, save for one of the bullets, you gave him the rounds.

"What? What are you-"

"I'm not... Going to need this," you said, slightly out of breath from the pain you were in, "and I know they fit Matilda. But I'm keeping the gun, and one of the bullets."

It seemed to dawn on him what you meant by your final sentence and he frantically began to protest.

"Hey, wait, no," he shook his head, "no. I can... You don't have to... Let me."

It was the idea that you would have to shoot yourself that made him uncomfortable. The idea that you would need to take your own life upset him. But if you didn't want to turn into one of them, he would do it for you. He would... He...

"We both know you can't," you justified, "and I don't want you to. I could never ask you to. So, you go. You leave Leon, and you find that virus. You get out of here, and you live. You don't do anything stupid or reckless, and you make these bastards pay."

You were adamant, and you left absolutely no room for argument. Even if he wanted to argue, he couldn't. And he wanted to argue. But denial would get him killed, and you wanted him to live. And some part of him wanted to live for you.

"Alright," his voice didn't waver this time as he spoke, "Alright."

He placed his head against yours for a moment when he stood up and squeezed your hand a little tighter in his own when he grabbed it again. Softly, you placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth and ushered him to leave. It felt like he was walking on hot coals the whole time as he walked out the door, he regretted it when he looked back at you at the door, like he was waiting for you to get up and go with him. It just made closing the door behind him a lot harder.

He hadn't really been keeping watch of the time since he arrived in the RPD. He didn't really realize how fast or how slow time was going. But at that moment, outside that door, he really felt the way time flowed. It was impossibly slow, agonizingly so, and it was deadly quiet. Something that happened in only moments felt like it had taken an eternity.

He was used to the sound of a gun by now. It didn't make him flinch anymore. But this time it did. It made his stomach clench and his jaw tighten, his body stiffens. He hated how it sounded more than he ever had before.

The piece of metal in his pocket weighed heavy as he ghosted his hand over it.

Leon was going to find who did this. He was going to make sure nothing like this ever happened again. But most of all, he was going to make them pay.

[starrybethany]

I’m Sure - Adam Boqvist Imagine Part 2

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Word count: 3.5K

I shut the front door quietly behind me. I step out of my heels, sighing in relief as my feet can finally breathe. My eyes land on the twelve-year-old on the couch and I can’t help but grin despite his cold behavior towards me lately.

I know he���s an adolescent so he’s going to go through mood swings and say hurtful things-but that doesn’t make it hurt less. It also doesn’t make me love him less. I walk up behind him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders slowly and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Mom,” he rips the headphones off of his ears, setting the controller and the headphones down on the coffee table. “You’re home.”

“Are you playing Call of Duty with the boys?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, eyes still avoiding my own. I know he’s ashamed of how he treated me this morning before leaving for school, but he won’t admit it. I raised him to admit it when he’s made a mistake, but he’s a boy, and they naturally refuse to do so. He’s still young, too, so he feels like he’s somehow always right.

“What do you want for dinner?” I make my way towards the small kitchen, opening the fridge to look inside.

“Didn’t you get food with Winston?” Holden questions, giving me a confused look.

“Yeah,” I shrug. “But I’m assuming you didn’t eat.”

“No.”

I pull out the supplies to make a grilled cheese, looking up at him expectantly. “Grilled cheese, then?”

“Yeah.”

The fading sun catches the blonde locks in his hair as he looks over at me from time to time, trying to focus on his game but a thought obviously occupying him.

“Mom, is um, is Winston going to be moving in with us?” He questions.

“What?” I laugh. “No, honey, we’ve only been dating a few months. Why would you think that?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.  You guys hang out a lot.”

“Well, I hope you know that I would have a conversation with you before doing anything that serious,” I reassure him, bringing over a Coke and the plate with chips and a grilled cheese.

“Thanks, mom,” he cracks a smile at me. A sign that it’s all better now.

“So, tell me about school today. How was art? Did you finally compliment Cierra’s painting?” I tease.

“Mom,” his voice cracks with the warning.

“I’m just teasing,” I giggle. “But seriously, Holden, girls love compliments.”

“I know,” he grumbles, returning to his game.

~

“How is Holden?” My sister asks.

I balance the phone between my shoulder and my ear, glancing up the stairs to make sure his door is closed so that he doesn’t hear the conversation. I lower my voice just in case. “I’m still worried about him.  He doesn’t have a lot of friends, he doesn’t hang out with the friends that he does have, he doesn’t want to join any sports or extracurricular activities- his grades aren’t the best. I’ve asked him so many times if he wants to go to therapy and he says no every time.”

“Well, maybe it’s time for you and Winston to get serious. That boy needs a father figure.”

I feel the annoyance rise in my blood and I roll my eyes, grateful that she can’t see me and scold me about the action. “I don’t want to push Holden to accept Winston. Holden will make his own decision of how to perceive him. Look, I have to go, I’m working late tomorrow.”

“Alright. Love you.”

“Love you too.” I quickly hang up, turning off the downstairs lights and making my way upstairs. I peak under my son’s door, seeing a soft light emerging, before doing my nighttime routine and laying down in bed. I scroll through my social media for a while- a habit I’ve been trying to break since Holden was born- seeing that all of my friends who are Flyer fans are getting excited for the game against the Blackhawks tomorrow.

Colorado was not a hockey place. They were all about their Denver Broncos and lived and breathed football. Holden and I moved to Philadelphia with my ex-boyfriend when he was a toddler, and we broke up when he started kindergarten, but we’ve stayed in Philadelphia ever since.

Philadelphia, however, is a hockey place. I understand why- Gritty is the embodiment of the city- but it was odd to be immersed back into the hockey life. Everyone here worships Claude Giroux and flashes of orange are worn everywhere we go.

I asked Holden when he was younger if he wanted to play hockey, since a lot of his friends do, but he quickly rejected the idea- something I was guiltily relieved about. He doesn’t know that his dad is a hockey player, in fact, he’s surprisingly never asked about his dad.

I thought he would want to learn more as he grew older and saw all of the kids at school with both of their parents, but he’s never said a thing to me.

I don’t know if he’s said something to someone else, though.

I set my phone down on the nightstand, exhausted from the long workday and the worry that constantly fills my body about my son. I know I need to do something to encourage him to increase his grades, make some friends, join some clubs- hell, even if it’s to spend more time with me, I wouldn’t mind that.

But right now, I just feel like a shitty mother.

~

I sigh, setting down the papers on my desk and rubbing my eyes. I hate ordering inventory, but someone needs to do it and since the owner of this coffee shop is never here, it lays on my shoulders.

I stand up, making my way to the front of the shop. “Do you guys know if Lia needs any more shirts?”

“I think she does,” Rachel’s voice falls on deaf ears as I notice the person waiting to order. The blood rushes to my head and my limbs run cold. All I can focus on is him. He’s standing in the coffee shop that I manage, a familiar, yet older Alex DeBrincat by his side, just like old times.

My eyes meet Alex’s first. He smiles at me, then I watch as it slowly transfers into a look of confusion.

“Do I- do I know you?”  He asks carefully.

“Y/N,” another voice breathes out. I turn my head, eyes meeting Adam’s. His face is frozen in disbelief, like he can’t believe it’s actually me.

But it’s me. And I’m standing in front of my child’s father, seeing him for the first time in about thirteen years. I hadn’t spoken to him since the day I left, Holden still a little bean in my stomach.

Staying true to my word, I did it on my own- with the help from some ex-boyfriends. But still, I was the one hugging him when he got vaccines at six months old, I was the one rubbing his back when he had the stomach flu at six years old, I’m the one kissing him on the cheek after parent-teacher conferences.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N, it’s been a while!” Alex chuckles, snapping my attention back to him. “I thought you were in Colorado, what are you doing in Philly?”

I force a smile. “Needed a change in scenery.”

It’s not a complete lie.

“How have you been? Is there a husband, any kids?”

Rachel, God bless Rachel, calls out Alex’s name and hands him his coffee before I can respond.

“How are you doing?” I inquire, keeping my eyes on the shorter man.

“Oh, I’m good, Lyndsey and I just had our second, our first boy,” he smiles proudly. He always used to talk about how much he wanted a family with her.

“Congratulations,” I smile.

“Thanks. Boqy here,” he slaps Adam’s chest, bringing him into the conversation. I reluctantly drag my eyes over to him, seeing that he’s already watching me. “Hasn’t changed a bit since you left.”

I nod, biting back the snarky remark that wants to escape. He’s what, thirty now? And he hasn’t changed a bit?

“Well, I have to get back to work,” I respond, wanting nothing more than to escape this conversation. I wouldn’t mind chatting with Alex for a whil- I’m sure he’d love Holden, but I don’t want Adam to know anything about my son.

I can’t help but feel guilty at that.

“Hey, let’s exchange numbers and hang out soon. We’re playing the Flyers and Penguins for the next couple of days, so we’ll be around for a while,” Alex offers.

I nod, pulling out my phone to exchange numbers with him. Somehow Adam thinks it’s his right to add his number into my phone, too.

“Well, it was great seeing you, Y/N,” Alex smiles before leaving, holding the door open for his companion. Adam spares me one last glance before leaving.

I cry in my office.

~

I can feel his eyes sliding between me and his plate. He pushes the corn with his fork, causing a scrapping noise to echo throughout the small room. He’s used to dinner being filled with questions about his day- what did he learn in science? Did he play dodgeball in gym class? But I’m not in the mood tonight.

The last thing that I wanted to do was make dinner and sit down and eat it instead of ordering pizza and crawling into bed, but I know I need to put on a brave face for Holden. He doesn’t need to know that anything’s wrong.

He coughs awkwardly. “I don’t like corn.”

I can’t hold back the rolling of my eyes. He looks shocked at that, like he’s not expecting it, but I’m not in the mood for his snarky attitude tonight.

“Then don’t eat it.”

He studies me before I can’t handle it anymore, shoving my chair back. I quickly throw the rest of my food away and throw my dishes into the sink before practically sprinting upstairs, locking my bedroom door behind me like a teenage girl.

I’m wiping the tears in my eyes furiously, my chest heaving with every breathe. I’m hoping that if I stop the tears from coming now, it’ll seem like they’ve never come at all.

And if they never fall, I’ve never cried over Adam Boqvist.

My phone buzzes angrily in my back pocket and I pull it out, practically groaning when I read Winston’s name. It shouldn’t be like that when I see that it’s my boyfriend calling, I know that, but really? Right now?

“Hello?”

“Hey, how are you?” Winston coos through the phone.

I furrow my eyebrows at the tone. “Uh, alright.”

“It’s just- Holden texted me and told me that you’re feeling kind of, um, off, tonight,” he struggles to explain.

I hold back my scoff. Sure, now Holden likes Winston.

“It’s nothing.”

“Come on, Y/N, how are we supposed to have a healthy relationship if you can’t talk to me?” He persists.

“I just don’t want to talk about it, Winston.”

“Fine. Be that way. But just so you know, if you can’t bother talking to me about this, then don’t bother talking to me ever again.”

I raise my eyebrows at that. “You’re going to break up with me because I don’t want to tell you what’s wrong?”

“It’s the principle of it, Y/N! If you aren’t willing to share your emotions with me four months into this relationship, where are we going?” He rants.

I’m dumbfounded. I know I should be willing to tell him what’s wrong- he’s supposed to be my partner, my confidant, the one I tell everything to.

But to be honest, I don’t really care. I’ve never felt an immense attraction to him. Really, when he asked me out the only reason I said yes was because I like his appearance. But we’ve never clicked, we’ve never had that fire, that passion- like, like what Adam and I had.

“Exactly,” he scoffs, reminding me that I’m still on the phone with my boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend.

He hangs up the phone and I sigh, gently resting the device back on my bedside table. I get ready for bed before climbing back under my cozy covers, scrolling through social media one last time before I decide to sleep.

My notification tab lights up, so I click on it, seeing that I have a new follow request.

adamboqvistt Confirm Delete

I stare at that in disbelief. After more than a decade of knowing my Instagram handle, and the fact that I’m the mother of his child, now he decides he wants to follow me?

Now he wants to get and stay in contact, just because he happened to see me at my job?

He took one look at me and decided he should be involved now. I told him when I told him that I was pregnant, it’s all in or all out.  And he decided all out, so now he has to live with his decision.

I close the app in fury, setting my phone down and turning over in bed, tugging the blanket harder than I intend to. Hopefully tomorrow is better than today. Hopefully Adam forgets about me and our child, just like he’s done for the past thirteen years.

~

Holden is slipping down the stairs just as I set his plate of scrambled eggs down on the table, giving me a hesitant look, like he’s unsure of what kind of mood I’m in and why I took the time to make him breakfast instead of hurrying out the door like I usually am with a reluctant kiss and hug.

“I start later today, I’m on the closing shift tonight,” I half-explain, placing the bowl of cut-up strawberries in the middle of the table.

He nods, taking a seat across from me at the table. I clear my throat as we begin to eat and he looks up at me, blue eyes wide like he got caught doing something wrong.

“Winston and I broke up last night,” I state emotionlessly.

“Oh, uh, sorry.”

I shrug my shoulders.

“Can I ask why?”

“I didn’t want to talk about my bad day and apparently that makes me emotionally unavailable,” I respond.

He pauses. “Well, do you want to talk about your bad day with me?”

This time it’s my turn to pause. I could do three things right now.  I could tell him that his father’s going to be in town for the next couple of days, giving him the opportunity to meet him if he really wanted to. Although he’s never expressed wanting to meet Adam, I’m sure there’s some kind of yearning in him to meet the man who gave him half of his genes.

Or I could lie. I hate lying to the kid- it’s not a value I want to raise him with. Plus, if he finds out that I lied, he would be pissed.

Finally, I could shut him out. I don’t want to do that, though. If I shut him out, when will he want to come talking to me? If I’m not willing to talk to him, it’s not fair to expect him to talk to me about things that bother him.

“I saw… an old friend, yesterday,” I say slowly, deciding to leave it at that. It’s vague but specific enough.

“My father?”

I practically choke at the words.

“It’s okay, mom,” he shrugs awkwardly. “I get it. That must’ve been hard for you.”

The deep blush on his cheeks shows me that he doesn’t want to continue this conversation much longer. I don’t know if it’s because of who it’s about, or because we’re talking about our feelings, but I don’t want to pressure him.

“Yeah. So, I’ll be home around eight o’clock tonight, I’ll pick up some McDonalds on the way home. Text me your order,” I inform him.

He nods, and that’s that.

~

I don’t know why a café is open until eight o’clock at night. Usually no one comes in past six o’clock, so the owner is paying someone to sit there for two hours on their phone. Around seven fifty-five, when I’m in the middle of turning off the lights to lock up and go home to see my son, the doorbell rings.

I curse in my head- what asshole comes in five minutes before closing time?

“Hello,” I plaster a fake smile onto my face, turning around to greet the customer. My feet stop moving.

His short curls peak out of the gray beanie, black jacket hanging loosely off of his body. His hands are shoved into his coat pockets and he stands at the door unsurely, deciding to take a confident step forward.

I compose myself, taking a step forward. “What can I get for you today?”

“Y/N-“”My recommendation is our house’s hot chocolate, it’s my favorite,” I give him a sugar sweet smile, relishing in the way that he winces.

“Look, I know that-“”Either order something or get out, Adam,” I break out of my customer service persona.

“If I order something will you talk to me?” He snaps.

I raise my eyebrows at him. “Are you really in the position to be making demands here?”

He sighs. “Get me that- what was it, a hot chocolate?”

“What size?” I snarl.

“Small.”

I grab the cup, reluctantly beginning the process of making it as he begins to speak.

“I requested to follow you on Instagram.”

I don’t respond.

“Look, I know that I messed up, okay?”

“That’s one way of putting it,” I mumble.

“I realize that,” he continues like I never interrupted him. “And I regret it every day, letting you and him- or her, I don’t even know what you ended up having, go, just so easily. I spent thirteen years missing all of the birthdays and Christmases and hockey games and focusing on getting drunk and my own hockey world. But don’t you feel like it’s fate, meeting again after all of these years?”

“Your total is $4.32,” I retort, setting the cup down on the counter.

“Come on, just let me meet him. Or her, you haven’t told me what you ended up having yet,” he pleads, chuckling dryly at the end.

“That’s because you don’t deserve to know. $4.32 please, and cash transactions are closed at this time,” I stare pointedly at him.

He swipes his card silently.

“Thank you, come again,” I state as I hand him his receipt. His fingers brush my own. The softness of them sooth the rage in my body, something I curse at internally.

I, so badly, want to be mad at Adam. I want to scream at him for missing all of our son’s childhood and my whole pregnancy.

But the worst part is that I can’t really blame him. He was a young guy, barely surviving in a league that sucks the players dry of everything they can give.

He knew he couldn’t give everything to raise the child- he knew better than to promise that he could do that.

I know he probably beats himself up for letting this go on so long- as he should- but I know that he’s probably ashamed of what he’s done and how much he’s missed.

There was never a right time for him to reenter Holden’s life. When Holden was a toddler, Adam still barely knew himself, as a kid Adam was teaching the younger players, and well, now- now Holden wants nothing to do with him.

Adam’s fingers glide gently up my arm, eyes double-checking to make sure the action is alright. It is.

It slides down to my waist and the other hand lifts up slowly, softly brushing my jaw. His face moves closer and closer to mine before our lips meet.

It’s like they’ve never left each other. They start out slowly, then move faster, more passionately. I tighten my eyes, cherishing this moment. Who knows when it will come next? The hand on my jaw moves down to my other hip and he tugs me across the counter, moving so that he’s standing in between my open legs.

“This is so unhygienic,” I breathe out as he begins to kiss down my neck. He chuckles, the hot air making me grow more and more needy for him.

“Are there cameras in here?” He questions, looking around- looking out for me to keep my job.

“No,” I respond, pulling his lips back to mine. “But we have to go into the office. I don’t want anyone walking past to see.”

He nods, grabbing onto the back of my thighs to pick me up. The office door shuts behind us.

When I see the, now cold, hot chocolate still sitting on the counter the next morning, I can’t help but wince, regretting everything that happened the night prior.

I just can’t resist when it comes to Adam Boqvist.

[ugh-supersoldiers]

It Won’t Be Long

MASTERLIST

Characters: Bucky x reader

Summary: Somehow distance is everything as much as it is nothing at all when it comes to the love you have for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Angst & fluff, really bittersweet (but there will likely be a part two that’s allllll fluff), this is a fic about Bucky and the reader dealing with being separated during social distancing so if that’s triggering please don’t read!

Words: 2314

A/N: This is for everyone missin’ someone while in social distancing who might need a little reminder that it won’t last forever (and for anyone who just loves some good ol fashioned bucky barnes charm). I’ve seen so much longing on my dash and I just want to say, I feel you, I love you, you will get through this, you will see the ones you love again. I wish everyone health and wellbeing.

AND AS ALWAYS REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE MEGA APPRECIATED.

Missing someone is hard, even when it’s necessary.

Keep yourself away from everyone, at least six feet apart at all times. Stay in your own place of residence, don’t pay a physical visit to anyone under any circumstances. Avoid any kind of contact with anyone especially those outside of your immediate household for all reasons unless urgent.

Quarentine. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, you’d anticipated it; emotionally prepared for it, but longing for the presense of someone you love simply can’t be rehearsed into familiarity.

Longing inters like you smoke; licking up the walls and permeating even your most primive and forgotten senses until it renders itself all comsuming; suffocating, and in a twist of cruel irony it will scorch the safety of the very fire it specters. 

Longing turns loving someone into torment.

Bucky Barnes. It had been months since you’d been with him.

Months.

You had phonecalls, and videochats, and texting, but it could never match up to his physical presense. It’s amazing the things about someone you realize you took for granted when you’re forced into separation.

Even so much as being in the same room as him felt like something you should have thanked god for at the time.

You’d wanted so desperately to be able to stay with him, to have him live in your apartment with you until social distancing laws were lifted, and that was almost an option - until it wasn’t.

Bucky’s anatomy rendered him in no serious danger of infection, and knowing this as soon as ‘quarentine’ entered his ears he had reached out to every medical facility around to see how he could help. The answers mostly consisted of small routine jobs that doctors and nurses struggled to find the time for, until one really struck him: let us use your biological makeup to see if it helps us solve puzzle of vaccine development.

He’d never signed on to something so quickly in his life.

“My soldier,” You’d laughed, “Always fighting for what’s right, even when it’s not his war.”

“It’s everyone’s war, doll. I’m just doing my part, like everyone else.” He’d replied.

It was true, Bucky would recover quickly from the virus in the extremely rare case that he were to contract it at all, but his work on the vaccine didn’t make him invulnerable to being a carrier and he refused to risk your life in the process of trying to help save so many.

And so, you had spent your time in your apartmen and he at the compound unless at a medical facility being poked and prodded for the sake of humanity. 

It was ungodly early in the morning, nearly three. Far too early to be making a video call, but the world had come to a screeching hault months ago and since then time didn’t seem to matter all that much. And you knew for a fact that he’d still be awake.

You sipped at the tea in your mug as you sat on your bed, reaching for your phone. Your finger hovered over his contact for a moment, a last hesitation as you wondered if perhaps he was sleeping, but it didn’t stop you.

He answered after a single ring.

“I know it’s stupidly early, but I miss you so much and I don’t know what to do with myself because of it.” You whispered immediately, knowing there was little point in offering a salutation.

You could see his face illuminated by the light of his phone screen as he sat cross legged on his bed. His hair was tied back, but a few stray pieces had fallen back onto his face. He looked to be wearing a sweater. It was a soft green. He looked perfect.

“I wasn’t sleeping (Y/N), don’t worry,” He said, “I miss you too, like you wouldn’t believe but it won’t be long now, I promise.” 

He tried his best to reassure you, but you both knew he couldn’t really make that promise. There was no guarentee how much more time would pass until you could be together again.

“I hate this, I can’t do it anymore. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

You were sitting with your covers pulled over your shoulders, sometimes bring a mug to your lips to sip at it. The warm glow of the fairy lights that you’d wrapped around your bedframe gave romantic definition to your features. He could swear he’d never seen something more beautiful in his life, but he thought that every single time he’d been able to see your face since he last saw it in person.

“You’re not going crazy, I would’ve told you by know if you were.” He winked.

The small laugh he earned from you made him smile, even if he could hear the subtly of the tears you were fighting.

“I love you, (Y/N). This is hard, baby, but you have to stay safe for me. We’ll make it, I know we will.”

“I know, Buck. I just feel like a piece of me missing when you’re not around.”

A tear had finally fallen from your waterline and onto your cheek. You quickly wiped it away in hopes he wouldn’t notice. He did.

His face read as if he was in physical agony. He couldn’t stand seeing you like this, but he knew there was nothing he could do other than try his best to make sure you knew he loved you, he missed you, and that this wouldn’t last forever.

“Just think about how great it’ll be when we see each other again.” He whispered, abandoning the crease in his brow in exchange for a small smile.

“It hurts to think about that.” You admitted, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

You’d purposefully tried your best not to think about it too much for that reason, in fact.

“Maybe, but it’s something to look forward to isn’t it?” He pondered, “This feels like forever, but it isn’t. We’re guarenteed to have that moment someday, so why not imagine it? It’s better than this, baby.”

You stared at him in complete awe for a moment as you remembered the man you’d met years ago. The one who couldn’t even so much as bare eye contact with someone for more than a second before looking away, or handle even the lighted touch. That same man, after so much perseverance and growth, was now explaining to you the benefit of looking forward to life’s guarenteed happy moments.

“I’m so proud of you, Buck.”

“What?” He chucked, running a hand down his face in amusement, “Not that I don’t love it when you kiss my ass, but where’d that come from, doll?”

“I’m not kissing your ass, Barnes,” You chided playfully, “I’m telling you the truth. You’ve come a long way from the person you were when you got out. I love you, and I’m amazed by you.”

‘Got out’ he knew meant escaped Hydra’s grasp. You were right, he’d gone through quite the change since then.

“What’s that saying - ‘behind every strong man’..?” He started, raising an eyebrow at you to finish it.

“‘There’s probably a woman nagging him to make dinner for once’.”

Now this really makes him laugh. You watched as his nose scrunched and the crinkles in the corners of his eyes perk up. That’s the laugh you fell for.

“Okay you know for a fact that’s not it, doll. And, I’ll have you know, in the last few weeks I’ve been forced to learn how to cook better since the only other choice is starve.” He quipped, seemingly rather confident in his new found skillset.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Guess I’ll have to show you in person.”

“Yeah...” You muttered daftly as the mention of being with him again came to fruition once more.

“It’ll be amazing.” He said almost dreamily as he closed his eyes, thinking to himself about the ordeal of you being in his arms after so long. He craved you like nothing else.

“Don’t get too full of yourself,” You giggled, “A few months is hardly enough time to match my culinary ability-”

“I meant seein’ you again, baby.”

“Oh.” 

Apparently ‘oh’ was the best answer you could come up with.

“Entertain me for a minute?” He asked you, cocking his head to the side with that signature lopsided smile of his. Bucky knew very well you could never say no to that, even if it was a topic you’d be entirely avoiding.

“Lay it on me, Romeo.” You rolled your eyes, but he knew you secretly wanted to hear what he would tell you just as much as he wanted to say it, even at the risk of bittersweetness.

“Whenever they lift the distancing rules, I don’t care what you’re doing, I don’t care what time it is, I don’t care where you are-”

“It’s a pretty safe bet I’ll be here.”

“Would you let me finish?” He chuckled playfully at your interjection.

You had a habit of seeing humour as an escape, and he knew that this was no exception. He was grateful. If you were joking around and being playful with him, at least it meant you weren’t crying anymore.

“Alright, alright.” You relented, opting to drink your tea and listen to him intently.

“My point is: the moment I’m able to see you again, I will run to you. If there’s a promise I know I can make to you, it’s that. You are my whole heart, doll. Nothing can change that, not distance, not a pandemic, not even your snoring-”

“I do not snore!”

“You absolutely do and I’m not done, you little punk.” He snorted before deciding it was time to leave all joking prods aside, “Baby, I love you. I love you so much that I go to sleep thinking about the next time I can see your pretty face, and I wake up with the same thing on my mind because you give me so much joy. I can’t wait to feel you in my atmosphere, and to hold you in my arms again, and to kiss you - god - doll, I miss kissing you more than anything in the world,”

Bucky had come a long way since you met him, yes, but he did still struggle with being emotive sometimes. Saying all of these things to you so directly was a huge deal for him. You knew better than anyone else that he must mean every single word.

“And the only reason I’m still sane is because I know that I’ll get the chance to soon. I don’t know when, but I know for sure that I will. I’ll wait for you, and you’ll wait for me... and that gives me the incentive I need to keep going everyday.” He offered you a sweet smile, which you returned immediately.

You sighed, entirely lovesick.

“You’re a wonder, James Barnes.”

“Oh, (Y/N)- The first name, really?” He couldn’t help but to laugh, even while fighting of a toe curling cringe.

“What? I haven’t seen you in ages - and you know it’s torture not being able to kiss you senseless after that display of your undying love for me - and you expect me not to lighten the mood?”

He watched you raise your mug to your lips, the lips he missed so dearly. There was a glint of mischeif in your eye, the one that made him fall in love with you in the first place.

“Honestly, I don’t know how I could’ve expected anything else.” He laughed, still trying his best to read your face to see if your absorbed what he was saying.

“It’s not easy for me to deal with indefinite timelines,” You admitted, looking at the wall of your bedroom in the distance, “But you know that already. I feel this torturous sense of longing for you in my bones, and knowing that it’s going to stay there for god knows how much longer...”

“I know, doll. Trust me, I know.” He told you.

“Uncertain reunion dates in the future aside, what I can say for sure is that I have the world’s kindest, bravest, most prolific altruist for a boyfriend, and knowing that you’re not only safe but offering yourself up for the sake of others like you are-” You stopped for a moment, desperately trying to not get choked up, “It gives me so much hope.”

When he heard that, he knew you’d gotten the message. It was about finding incentives that gave you hope, that allowed you happiness in moments of forlorn longing.

“Well, shucks.” 

Bucky heard you snort in reply to his witticism. He closed his eyes and smiled, truely embracing what you’d said to him. All he ever wanted was to do right by the world; to give back to it. He’d gotten the biggest second chance in recorded history, and he’d be damned if he didn’t make the most of it. Knowing you not only saw the work he put in, but that you were proud of him for it? It made him absolutely melt.

“I’m incessantly in love with you and everything you are.” You said with no chastizing mention of his first name this time.

“I love you too, (Y/N). So much.”

You hummed for a moment, and Bucky tried to decipher if you were doing it out of contentment or if you were thinking.

“You miss kissing me, huh..?”

Thinking. It had definitely been thinking. And by the delish tone of your voice and look on your face Bucky saw when he opened his eyes, it was nothing all too innocent.

You circled the rim of your mug with your finger, drawing out your next words languidly and elicited a low groan from him.

“How about you tell me what else you miss, baby?”

[samtheflamingomain]

more like the hypocratic oath

Fuck the Hippocratic Oath.

I've always loved to memorize things from a young age. I'm 26, and I still see the same doctor that saw my mother 10 years before my birth. So I've spent a LOT of time in her waiting room, unchanged for decades. She has a weird obsession with lighthouses. Also, a framed text of the Hippocratic Oath on the wall.

Being the only thing to read in the room, over the years, I kind of accidentally memorized it. It's shorter than most people think.

It's never really been useful. Whenever it would come up in conversation I'd sometimes say "did you know that 'First do no harm' isn't actually in the Oath?" but most people didn't believe me. I didn't really care. It never came up, and it was never really important.

But this week alone I've read 6 references to the Oath in the news, had 3 conversations about it, and had to nope out of countless Reddit threads, all along these same lines:

"Why can't we lower the priority of anti-vaxxers who need to be in the ICU?" The Hippocratic Oath, of course! First, do no harm. Second, triage according to whoever needs the most care the most urgently. Third, forget the first two because neither of those things, not even in sentiment, are in the Oath.

There's a LOT of people who seem to have been indoctrinated into following a dogma they don't even know the contents of. They hear "Hippocratic Oath" and instantly think "First, do no harm" and then stop there. Because we think we know the gist. "Don't wield your power of being a doctor to become an evil monster." You should be right, but you're not.

If we're going to argue medical ethics, let's see what this amazing oath is really all about.

It starts out pretty normal. Swearing to Apollo. "[A]nd Asclepius, by Hygieia, by Panacea, and by all the gods and goddesses". Normal stuff. Oh, your doctor doesn't believe in Apollo? Breaking the Oath.

But then we get to the good stuff. Y'know what's so important that the Hippocratic Oath decided to address it directly and by name? Abortion. As in, "I will not give to a woman a pessary to cause abortion". Forget what a pessary is, it's an ancient medical device. So, the entire profession of performing abortions? Breaking the Oath.

But hey, abortion's a touchy subject. What about something as neutral as kidney stones? Well, "I will not use the knife, not even, verily, on sufferers from [kidney]stone[s]". Weird how if I were to walk into an ER with a kidney stone the size of a kidney bean they'd cut it out. With a knife. Verily. Breaking the Oath.

It's not all bad or oddly specific. The last bit basically says "If I walk into your house, I won't abuse you, even if you're a slave." How kind! And lastly, patient confidentiality. The end.

...Except, the Oath was rewritten in 1964. It cut out the abortion and kidney stone bits and comes in the form of modern English. Since it's not too long and wordy like the original, here's the full text of the "modern" Hippocratic Oath: (I'm cutting the first and last lines that just say 'here's the oath' and 'that was the oath', emphasis is mine to talk about after.)

"I will respect the hard-won scientific gains of those physicians in whose steps I walk, and gladly share such knowledge as is mine with those who are to follow.

"I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures required, avoiding those twin traps of overtreatment and therapeutic nihilism.

"I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon's knife or the chemist's drug.

"I will not be ashamed to say "I know not", nor will I fail to call in my colleagues when the skills of another are needed for a patient's recovery.

"I will respect the privacy of my patients, for their problems are not disclosed to me that the world may know. Most especially must I tread with care in matters of life and death. If it is given me to save a life, all thanks. But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty. Above all, I must not play at God.

"I will remember that I do not treat a fever chart, a cancerous growth, but a sick human being, whose illness may affect the person's family and economic stability. My responsibility includes these related problems, if I am to care adequately for the sick.

"I will prevent disease whenever I can, for prevention is preferable to cure.

"I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body as well as the infirm."

Let's work backwards. The last line I emphasized because I think it comes closest to being a good argument for why anti-vaxxers should be allowed to clog up our ICUs. Doctors have "special obligations" (which isn't specific enough for me) to all humans, even the "infirm". At a glance it seems like this says "Doctors have to help people who are well as well as those who are ill" but "sound of mind" really jumped out at me. To me, it is not of sound mind to be anti-vaccine. If "infirm" is the opposite of "sound of mind", then anti-vaxxers are entitled, like all humans, to whatever "special obligations" the doctors have. Like I said, I don't find that phrase specific enough for me to accept this as an argument, but it does come close. If we define "special obligations" as "the obligation to provide medical care", then yes, put all anti-vax Covid patients in the ICU. But "special obligations" could just as well mean "the obligation to put the needs of the many over the needs of the few", which is supported by the statement's previous allusion to being a member of society, in which case, kick those fuckers out on the street.

The second point I highlighted just because this was written by and for America, and somehow they remain the only developed nation where one's "economic stability" is absolutely never taken into consideration.

Finally, my big closer. Life and death. "If I manage to save a life, great, cool. But also sometimes I'm allowed to kill people. No, I will not elaborate".

But it has another meaning: "As a doctor, sometimes I will necessarily have to kill people." This is simply one of those times. I'm serious. If not now, when?

I highlighted the very first line because I think it sets the tone for the entire Oath, and because I believe that actively choosing to treat anti-vaxxers instead of people with "lesser" problems, that choosing to allocate ICUs to people who spit on your science is violating the directive to follow the "hard-won scientific gains of those physicians in whose steps I walk". I can't imagine a 1940s TB nurse being teleported to present day, informed about Covid, taking a look at our hospitals and saying "well done".

It's a good thing it doesn't actually say "do no harm", because the Oath itself has violated that directive. As Ontario's ICUs continue to rise, doctors continue to harm society because they think triage is part of the Oath. It's not. Stop pretending it's anything more than a contract you sign when you work at fuckin McDonalds and you promise not to make dumb Tik Toks at work. Every job has its moral standards. Doctors have one of the most ethically and morally difficult jobs on the planet, yet we treat medical ethics as a settled matter.

The original was written in 275AD. It was rewritten 60 years ago. Maybe let's not wait another millennium to fix this glaring problem that isn't going to go away. In the meantime, let's try and work from actual facts and not what we think we know. A tall order these days unfortunately.

Stay Greater, Flamingos.

[britomart-heart]

Goodness is Going With You, Ch.1

Hi all! First time posting fanfiction on this account, and first time writing in about two years. My target audience for this is approximately one person - ie myself who still likes zombie apocalypse aus, but let me know your thoughts and if you’d like more! Fandom: The Mandalorian Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader ****** You had been walking for days. Your small, ancient, ship had broken down on this back water planet, and even you had to admit there was no fixing it this time. But with the galaxy the way it was now, staying in one place was never an option for long.

It had also been days since you’d seen one of them. The creatures that had brought your world crashing to its knees more than twenty years ago. Just with the mere thought of them, your fingers brushed over your blaster strapped to your hip. The road had been too quiet for your liking, and it usually meant that the creatures had all moved to the same spot for whatever reason. That would make it easier for you to avoid them. It would also make it harder for you to outrun them if you did stumble across them.

You reloaded your blaster.

The virus was almost always deadly, and had taken sixty percent of the population of each system it passed through to prove it, but when a host was unfortunate enough to survive the initial sickness, it left them mindless, violent, and hungry for whatever flesh it came across. The accepted story was that the virus was biochemical warfare invented by the scientists of the Empire, meant to wipe out the last supporters of the Old Republic, but was more successful that they ever imagined. Now all that was left was barren planets controlled by warlords, travel systems overrun by pirates, and abandoned cities crawling with the creatures who prowled the empty streets hungrily.

Come to mention it, you were quite hungry too.

A map you found in a crumbling building had indicated that there was some sort of village north of where your ship had crashed, and you had been trekking across the desert sands in hope of some sort of meal, and maybe even an old piece of junk you could wrangle into flying condition. There was talk of a vaccine in the inner rim. A safe zone. It was an idea you could barely comprehend, but the whisper was enough to make you desperate to try and reach it.

As you began to daydream of what a safe zone might entail, you heard a cry in the distance, followed quickly by the warbled shrieks of the infected. Your stomach flipped, head snapping to attention. Normally such a cry would have you running in the opposite direction, but despite every instinct you had, your feet began moving towards the fray. That was the cry of an infant, of a child. Maker help you, but who would be heartless enough to turn away from that?

The noise seemed to come from impossibly far away, but you managed to find an abandoned moisture farm, and a hoard of infected swarming around the strangest looking kid you’d ever seen. Green ears nearly as wide as it was tall, it was crying out in distress as the creatures surrounded it. You’d never seen them attack like this before.

They surrounded the kid in a circle, and one by one they would try to attack with the usual sweep of their rotting arms. As one would rush in, the kid would raise a shaking three fingered hand, closing its eyes in concentration, and the creature would be flung back as if it was a rag doll. You stared in confusion, but quickly realised the child was slowing down, its eyes drooping lower and lower with each attack. You had your blaster raised without thinking and took down three of the creatures before they even noticed you there.

You slid through the gap you created and picked up the child just as it sleepily raised its arms up to you. Tucking him into the crook of your arm, you began firing shots as well as you could, swinging around, and ignoring the inevitable realisation that there was just too many of them. If you could just get out of their view there was a chance you could run, and you kept jogging backwards, until your back hit a wall.

They’d trapped you in a corner.

“Come on kid, that neat magic trick you pulled earlier would be helpful” you half yelled to the child who was clinging to your side. To his credit, the kid did try to lift his arm again, but the effort seemed to take the last bit of energy he had, and he slumped against you. Your grip was slippery with sweat, and with each beat of your heart, and fire of your blaster you knew it was hopeless. As the hoard closed in, you wiped the sweat from your brow, and the tears from your eyes, raising your blaster up to take out as many of them with you as you could.

You noticed the whistling in the air, before you noticed the tiny speeding bullets blasting into each of the snarling creatures, taking them out one by one. When the wall of them fell, a shining body that seemed solid silver landed in front of you, taking out the remaining monsters as if they were no more than training droids at a shooting range.

You stared in disbelief, clutching the child closer to your side, gaping at the number of infected this stranger had taken out in mere seconds, so stunned that you barely noticed that your saviour had now turned his blaster on you.

“Hand him over.” A deep male voice came through the modulator of the helmet, and he stretched his gloved hand out to you, gesturing towards the sleeping baby in your arms. You held him tighter on instinct.

“Who are you?”

“Listen girl, the only reason you’re still standing is because I saw you protecting him. Hand him to me, and we’ll call it even.”

You’d always been good at reading people, but this was like reading a brick wall. The dark visor hid even the slightest shadow of his eyes, and he stood still as stone, no body language to glean any sort of impression from. He held the blaster, still aimed at you, as if it were simply an extension of his arm.

But there was the slightest edge of desperation to his voice, just the tiniest hint of worry when he reached for the kid, that despite yourself you believed him. You wanted to believe him.

Slowly, you stepped over the corpse of one of the infected littering the ground and handed the kid over to the armoured man.

No, not just a man you realised, slightly later than you probably should have. He was a Mandalorian. You nearly dropped your own blaster, as you realised that an actual Mandalorian had pointed his weapon at you, and you actually had the gall to question him and survived.

He tucked the strange brown robe the baby was wearing tighter around him, with a tenderness that seemed somehow bizarre and charming at the same time.

“Why was he alone?” You asked, and the Mandalorian looked at you as if he had forgotten you were there.

“I was fighting a quarry into my ship, and the kid wandered off. He has a habit of doing that… usually I catch him before he gets into real trouble. After that, hopefully he won’t do it again.” He looks back at you, and somehow you knew he was looking over you from top to bottom. You shiver, and you know it’s not from the evening’s chill.

“I don’t have any credits.” He said, and you looked back in confusion.

“Credits?”

“To thank you. For saving the kid. Not many would have done that.”

“Oh don’t worry about it, anyone would have-“ You begin, but he shakes his head

“No. They wouldn’t have.” He tilts his head almost questioningly at you, and for some unknown reason you blush. Why are you blushing. You saved this guy’s kid, he’s thanking you, this is normal. All of this is normal.

“Well. I’d best be on my way then. Keep that kid out of trouble, he seems… special.” You answer, as diplomatically as you can.

“Yeah, he is.” The Mandalorian answers quietly, and you smile and start walking away. You’re nearly out of earshot, when the same modulated voice calls out again.

“Hey. Can I give you a lift somewhere. I’m not a taxi service but… I’m headed towards Nevarro and I can drop you there, or somewhere on the way.”

“Yes”, You say without thinking and without questioning the relief that threatens to spill over, “Yes, Nevarro would be great, thank you.”

He barely says a word after that, leading you nearby to his ship, and sets up a make shift bed for you on the ground of his rather shaken looking pre-empire Razor Crest. The kid stirs sometime after you enter hyperspace and gives you a toothy grin when he sees you sitting beside his floating crib. He reaches over to you with a tiny, green, wrinkled hand, and wraps it around your pointer finger.

“Hi kid, it’s me again”, you say and give him your name. He stares up at you with his enormous black eyes, and his calm gaze settles you enough that you allow the exhaustion of the past days to finally wash over you.

****

Over the next few days he tells you barely enough to satisfy your curiosity, but enough that your sufficiently intimidated by him. You can call him Mando, he doesn’t know the kid’s name, there’s rations in the hold that you can help yourself to whenever you want. You fill in the gaps you can with your limited knowledge of Mandalorians- that their religion is their armour and weapons, that their planet was lost before the virus destroyed everyone else’s, that the helmet never comes off.

It’s enough that your intrigued by him almost as much as you’re scared of him. His voice alone, warm and low, draws you in, and the affection he clearly has for the strange child that travels with him, is a walking contradiction to the Mandalorian code you heard about in stories and legends as a youngling. It makes you wonder if he travels with the kid out of obligation, or if he once was as lonely as you are, and couldn’t bare it anymore.

You can understand that.

You come out of hyperspace on the third day, and you hear him coming down the ladder into the hold before you feel the jolt of the ship entering Nevarro’s atmosphere. You have the kid on your lap, and were in the process of teaching him one of the few games you remember from your own childhood. He didn’t seem to get the rules, but giggled every time you clapped his hands together, and would try to do the same with yours.

“The kid likes you”. Mando says from behind you, and you smile over your shoulder.

“Well I’m easy to like. So is this little one.” You answer, and the kid gurgles in what sounds like agreement, and throws himself forward into you, stretching his tiny arms as far as he can reach, and laughs into your belly.

Mando walks forward, and gently tugs on one of the kid’s massive ears. You’re not sure if you imagine his fingers brushing over your shoulder when he moves his hand back.

“You’re handy with a blaster.” He says, in a way that feels more like a statement than a question. You’re not sure where he’s going with this, but you nod slowly.

“When I need to be.”

“You can handle moving around from place to place? You don’t have anyone waiting for you somewhere?” He asks, and it’s definitely a question this time. You nod more confidently, and turn around full to look up at him. He’s leaning against a wall, his arm resting confidently on his hip, and he’s literally in full armour, why is that a good look on him. You’re beginning to wonder if there’s something wrong with you. Maybe you’ve been alone for too long.

“It’s just been me for a long time.”

He nods in a way that makes you think it was the right answer.

“I’m trying to get into the inner rim. There’s some rumours that it’s safer there, and I need to get the kid… he needs to be safe.” He says slowly, as if he’s choosing his words carefully. Still can’t trust you with the full truth, but is offering up more than you ever expected. You try not to look too eager.

“I need someone to watch the kid while I collect my bounties on the way. You saw what happens when he’s left alone for too long. And I think you need to get somewhere safe too.”

You barely react, terrified that if you say something now, he’ll retract whatever offer he is about to make, the one you were always on the verge of suggesting yourself but kept losing the nerve to ask.

“I still need to stop in Nevarro. But you can join me when I leave again… if you want. I can pay handsomely, and it’ll be safer than travelling on your own.” He says, and you know he’s waiting for an answer now. You stand slowly, trying to look as if you’re contemplating a response, even though you know your answer immediately. You place the kid in his floating crib and wipe your hands on the front of your trousers.

“It’s a deal.” You answer and stretch one of your hands out in front of you.

There’s a few seconds of complete silence, only the unreadable man in front of you, staring at your outstretched hand, and oh maker have you misread this completely. You’re about to drop your hand, when he reaches out and shakes it with his own and seems to hold it a beat to long before letting go.

“Right, well then strap the kid in, we’ll be pulling into Nevarro shortly.” He answers as gruffly as if the conversation never happened and turns to climb back up into the cockpit. As if you imagined the whole thing.

Only, even though you have absolutely no proof, if someone asked you to bet on what expression he was making under that helmet, you’d have put money on him smiling.

[yyxgin]

no bar!! never fret about replying late. i know what it’s like to not want to talk to anyone. honestly. i won’t call it (my experience) a depressive episode bc one of my friends used to brush off me when i was saying things like i’m depressed and say ‘sad’ instead. like if i were to say ‘that made me/i am depressed’ she’d say something like ‘oh god same! like if it’s making you sad,, don’t do it.’ which is a v poor example of what she did but i never called it depressed after that bc she pissed me off n was disregarding of my feelings (even though she’s incredibly anxious herself) bc i didn’t get it officially diagnosed. idk if you’ve ever read about birth control pills but i always read on tumblr people calling them literal depression pills and i ignored it, thinking either 1) people were being dramatic / were over-dramatising it or 2) it wouldn’t happen to me anyway. it fucking happened and they were not being dramatic. i was never happy n always working on minimal sleep n making self depreciating jokes all the time bc it was the only way i could cope with my thoughts n constant mood swings. so what i’m trying to say is,, i know how it feels. if that’s any consolation. it’s not me trying to be ‘oh me too!’ or ‘mine was worse than you’ it’s just me being understanding n telling you it’s okay. also lemme at your friends!! i’ll stomp them out n get the barman to run them over for you!! they’re so mean to forget you!! i find that deciding i want to do something specific n then asking the appropriate people if they want to do saïd thing/place works for me. it can be a simple ‘we should do this, when are you free?’ helps. making it known that you want to do things helps. or aggressively remind them that it’s nice to be asked bc it means they thought of you even if you couldn’t go n tried to include you. or we can revisit me stomping them out w my beloved barman,,, whatever works best for you my dear <3

admittedly me and one of the girls were discussing that we are going to miss our manager. even though literally everyone moaned about her (i feel like it’s impossible to avoid in literally any job/situation) she did have her moments and she did a lot for the staff like after work-drinks, asking the chefs if we could order off of the customer menu instead of the staff menu or whatever they cook in bulk for everyone to take home in the evening. apparently she did this a lot more than the previous manager. she has a good heart but sometimes she ignored some of the girls when we ask for days off or our availability for the week which was very annoying of her. it could’ve been a lot worse, i suppose, but overall she wasn’t terrible.

thé lady who lives in my town and drops me given the chance, told me the other night that she used to be the duty manager. i asked her why she stopped and she explained that when they furloughed everyone they asked her to come back on like half pay or something? idk i just remember it being explained as they wanted her to come back sooner and take away her furlough so she said no and got demoted. but somehow she still gets some of the furlough? idk i have been taught that asking how much or discussing specifics of paychecks kind of thing is rude, growing up. she has been telling me they keep asking her to come back (now they’re asking her to be a supervisor since she declined the manager role) and she keeps saying no. i love her and want the best for her so i won’t say anything to anyone about the conversations me and her have had (i mean, apart from maybe my mum if i can remember, and you bc, let’s be real, you don’t know me and idk you) and she says they’re just difficult to work with as a management team. she even said our area manager isn’t impressed with our current assistant manager (who is currently the only person on an houred contract since our manager left) which shocked me since i personally think he is quite good considering he has a good relationship with the staff and kitchen (he’s thai so he can communicate with the kitchen better than most of the wait staff (some wait staff are thai but mostly not)) i think she doesn’t want to be the eldest person in management or she doesn’t want the age gap to be so big since she has a kid she can lecture at home, she doesn’t need to be looking after people at work, y’know?

also today, me and one of the girls were upstairs (two floors of the restaurant!) and it’s nearing 11pm and her brother (who also works there) comes up and asks us when we’re finishing (mostly her lol) but we had two tables just sitting talking amongst themselves so she just said idk. he was saying he wanted to go bc he’s tired etc n he’s driving n she was like it’s fine go home i’ll call an uber or something n he was refusing to leave her behind. (i feel like i brushed over the two tables sitting there but it must be noted they’re the only tables left in the entire restaurant and we were the only two wait staff still there, apart from her brother but he changed and was waiting downstairs). anyway, she was sweeping (i was cleaning the booth/sofa thingy chairs as it was a mundane task we could do to pass time and while she was sweeping by one of the tables thé boyfriend was whispering to his girlfriend saying ‘should we go?’ and the girlfriend said ‘why should i care?’ and the girl came over to tell me v quietly and i got so upset for her. bc she is literally the sweetest person on the earth and the only reason i didn’t go to ask the manager to see if i could go home with the lady who offers to take me (ex-duty manager lady!) was so she wasn’t alone up there. if i had been the one sweeping near that table i would’ve snapped so fucking hard at them. i mean, we’re 18 and have lives and sleep schedules, and we’re working until 11pm on a thursday before we even get home?? like i wouldn’t have minded staying if they were reasonable tables but after the gf said that i was like ‘shall i go get our stuff from the staff room?’ so i could split as fast as possible. in the end the temporary acting manager came up and told us we could finish and she kicked the tables out ten minutes later. i told her what the table saïd and she thought that was mean and unnecessary too. i was also worried about my sleep tonight since i have my first vaccine tomorrow morning. that’s why i was more pressed about what time i left work today. oh well.

im sorry for talking so much about work! sometimes i don’t have someone to talk to about it (at home) bc of my weird hours and sometimes i don’t like re-explaining things to my mum if she doesn’t get it the first seven times. sometimes it’s just a little too draining as she doesn’t understand since she’s a lifer at her job. it’s easier to explain to my dad but then i get a whole lecture on something that i ultimately have no control over n id rather just bitch w the girls at work but the problem is WE’RE AT WORK!!!

also i booked for my first tattoo!! i’m excited. it’s for next week,, which was super quick considering i was expecting to have to wait soooo much longer. i’ve been telling people about it and that it’s happening but i haven’t had the pleasure of telling people exactly where i got the idea from. bar, my dear, you know wheein’s new album, redd? well, it comes with loads of things, including these stickers (one for each song) and the one from springtime was just so perfect and when i saw it my first thought was, this would be a perfect tattoo. and so i am having it tattooed on my body. a subtle nod to kpop whilst also having something meaningful on my body. i also have just decided i want a small, minimalistic (or one-line art) rose on my sternum, kind of in the valley of my breasts, bc my nan was a rose. i like having her close to me. i recently got her necklace fixed which has left me feeling so incomplete after it broke in august last year. it’s been almost ten years and i think i’m long overdue something to remind me of her. i fiddle with my necklace when i’m nervous which is why i love it so much but incase it breaks again (i pray it doesn’t but i have a long life ahead of me) i would like her close still.

gosh there’s never enough space in my head to remember what i want to tell you so i’ll stop here for now since i should sleep to be able to wake up in time for my first jab. i’m scared but it’s whatever i’ll do it i suppose,, eeek 😨

ilyl ~ 🌻

thank you so much for opening up to me about this, it means a lot to me :( i am so sorry you had to go through this and honestly,, i really resonate with you. i feel like when i talk about my emotions and my sadness (dont know if its okay to call it depression either but yea), my friend either always either makes me feel like my emotions arent valid or she tells me she doesnt know how to help, which is frankly, why i dont talk about my emotions to people irl anymore. i dont open up and it takes me a long long time to do so if i ever do, because i tend to feel insecure/not safe :D so really, thank you for telling me and i hope you are doing better. your emotions are valid and i am always here for you 

HAHAHA i mean i dont have many friends so theres not many to stomp on:( but i mean,, i get passive aggressive when i feel forgotten/left out so you best believe i told my friend how im feeling, but like uhhh it didnt do much. i spent the whole weekend at work and i was free on friday but my friend decided to ditch me and yeah. i havent been out in like two weeks now and i mean i am an introvert so i dont mind that much but even i want to socialise sometimes

aah i mean every manager has their flaws, no one’s perfect. my manager keeps calling me to go to work even though i was literally there for 11 hours on saturday AND sunday which means i worked for 20 hours in two days. and i work 20 hours a week at max. and i already worked some hours before the weekend so i think i have like 30 hours now and she keeps calling??? dude i need a break too,,i am so exhausted and tired of this shit :dd

oh i totally get what the lady that drops you off sometimes told you. i would feel a little iffy if i heard it too, but like,,,judge by your own experiences!! if you feel like something is off, you can always leave,, so i wouldn’t be so stressed about it.

why are people so rude ??? dude,,you should care, because we are all human. everyone has their needs and their lives and i bet he wouldnt like it if he was the one in your place. why should you stay there longer just because he didnt want to leave?? that was so unnecessary. people are weird beings and i learnt that after working with them this weekend,,,like i litereally got screamed at because i couldnt accept cash in different currency. like,,what tf do you want me to do?? i dont have every single currency with me so i could give u the change ?? tf ??

ALSO ITS OKAY TALK ABOUT YOUR WORK HOWEVER MUCH YOU WANT !!!! i also feel like i dont have anyone to talk to about work bc my parents dont listen to me as much as they used to these days and my friend unsurprisingly just doesnt care bc she doesnt work,, and i dont wanna talk to my internet friends abt it as much bc i feel annoying so i am glad us two can talk about these things together !!!! 

YOUR FIRST TATTOOOO WHOAAAH thats so cool. i love tattoos hihi dfkja idk if u already had the appointment but tell me how it went after !! i wasnt able to find the sticker on the internet but im sure it looks hella pretty. also i love how it reminds you both of kpop and your grandma, its wonderful <3 i really want to get a tattoo one day,, and i also want something meaningful (not that i am hating on people that tattoo themselves just for fun and have no meaning behind their tattoos i just have commitment issues so i want something long lasting). alSO my crush (yes i have a crush now ew) has a tattoo and it looks like satan lowkey,,but apparently its a japanese something (i forgot the word oopsies) and it means jealousy, bad past and wisdom ?? i was like BOY IF U DONT??? fjdkla he has blue hair btw i am very much whipped but he also doesnt know me and i am older than him so this is embarrassing

ALSO I HOPE YOURE FEELING WELL AFTER GETTING THE VACCINE !!! 

ily <333

[ego-driven-one-wing-angel]

1.5 BLOOD_WATER | Sephiroth

A/N: Chapter 5 is out, hope you have a swell time!

TAGS:  Slow Burn, Mild Language, Angst, Future Bed Sharing, Future Angst, Original Male and Female Characters. Mostly Slow Burn.

CHAPTER ONE FOUND HERE

AO3 FULL STORY CAN BE FOUND HERE

1.5 - Chapter V

🌕 - Return

“Only happy people have nightmares, from overeating. 

For those who live a nightmare reality, 

sleep is a black hole, lost in time, like death”

-Guy Sajer

[TRACK: Sleeping at Last - Saturn]

Rocket Town quickly housed the injured soldiers before they even had a chance to thank them. The walls keeping them warm from the chilly mountain air, how sweet the meadow flowers made it smell. Much better than the smoke they left behind deep in the forest. The smell still stuck on Citlali’s clothes as she took a seat in the lobby, gladly taking one of the cold rags the inhabitants began to hand out.

Her ear still hurt. No longer ringing when they reached the third mile, but it had proved her hearing wouldn’t return to normal, not for a few days. Silas had periodically snapped in her ear as they walked side-by-side, every mile or so to retest her response. They were always dull, fogged and she was pretty sure the constant snapping would make her headache worse. 

One of the lobby workers had seen the tiny shrapnel pieces lodged in her back, through her sweater where tiny spots of blood darkened the blue. Threading singed, overly saturated with the smell of burning metal. Even her skin was coated with a light layer of soot. Darkening her olive tone as she tried to relax on the chair.

Tweezers plucked at her skin in a few moments time, taking their sweet time to pull out the shards. Some as big as her thumbnail, others as small and thin as a pine needle. Thankfully, they were skin deep. Quick and painless, her hearing, however, was a different matter, and she was hoping Sephiroth would have forgotten her predicament before they arrived in town. 

But just like John, he hadn’t. 

“You’re staying here.” He said. 

CItlali winced, both from the rag placed on her head and the words. “I’m not staying here.” Snapping, her words cut like silver and much more pronounced then the slurred words she had been giving out that day. The Silver Elite would be damned to know the way one of their members spoke to him. She was tired, hurting, and as nervous as she felt before, she needed to be there. “I’m going. You need men. Most of them here can’t walk more than a few miles and you are sure as hell not going out alone, who knows what numbers the other copters lost.”

Sephiroth’s brows furrowed just slightly. Almost as if his facial expression hadn’t moved at all. 

Citlali didn’t make the situation any better as she stood up, the height difference prominent. How tiny she was in comparison in both size and skill. 

John was a beast, a seven-foot-tall, two-hundred pound man of pure muscle. Sephiroth was much more lean, athletically built, a few inches cut short compared to John, but it didn’t take away the intimidation. Not by a long shot. It was stupid to even go agaisnt the words of a first class, to go against anyone above your rank. But it was a lesson Citlali hadn’t learned, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to start there.

“John was right about you,” Sephiroth spoke with the same amount of confidence as he always did. Unmoved by her speech. “Stubborn.”

“So what?” 

Ouch. If past-Citlali somehow mastered the ability to time travel, she’d be kicking present-Citlali’s ass. The posters on her teenage wall spoke of nothing but admiration for Sephiroth, and she dreamed of being able to tell him how much she would love to share a cottage in the middle of bum-fucking-nowhere with him. Yet, there she was, dismissing his orders as she did John’s. As if her own plans were far more important and serious than a First-Class SOLDIER’s direct order. 

Especially Sephiroth. The man anyone worked under without a single doubt in their mind. Citlali would have done so too, but the pounding in her head was telling her to fight. Go find John. At least find the wreckage and maybe she could get some sort of clarity.

“I’m not staying.” Citlali continued. The aches in her back now becoming prominent. “You can tell me no, that’s fine. You can tell me to fuck off for all I care and tear me a new one, but I’m going to leave this town, and it’s going to be with or without your permission.”

A small chuckle escaped him. Sending shivers down Citlali’s spine. That intimidation was back, ten-fold. The grace of laughter coated with something mischievous. “Alright.”

Citlali let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding, like a burden had been lifted off her shoulders the moment he spoke. Her body had gone incredibly stiff. The panic of past-Citlali returning to finish the job spooking her to stay quiet. To not utter even a single word. She didn’t have to beg, or plead, or even bribe the guy to let her join.

He just said yes. And it somehow felt worse than a no. 

“Why?” Of course she just had to say it anyway. Her impulse was as uncontrollable as her addiction to gambling. She always had to roll that final die, even if she just won hundreds. The high just as sweet in the action. “You’re not tricking me are you. Not pulling my leg so you and John can have a laugh about it later?”

Citlali briefly forgot John never laughed. Hardly showcasing anything other than a low-satisfied sigh, sometimes going as far as rolling his eyes at Citlali’s childish jokes or puns. He didn’t even give her the pleasure of a pity laugh. As stern and stoic as the rumors made him out to be.

Sephiroth had parted before she could ask him another set of unrelated questions. Perhaps, for the better. They had already wasted enough time resting in the Rocket Town Inn. A little R and R never hurt anyone, but when a rendezvous point needed to be met, resting rivaled your enemy. John and the others were still somewhere lost in the mountains, as bruised and battered as the rest of them, and most likely heading to the exact same location Sephiroth had disclosed earlier that morning.

Citlali only hoped all her guessing was correct. 

She tried not to take too much time as she grabbed her weapon, the standard second class sword now covered in soot and damaged in the crash. The handle designs ruined beyond repair, and she’d be issued a new one the moment they returned to Midgar. Only, she wasn’t leaving for Midgar, and it was going to be longer than a few days before she’d walk back into headquarters. She only hoped it was a sharp as it still appeared to be, and scurried off to catch up with Sephiroth and Silas before they left her behind

It had been a few hours. Walking underneath the hot sun, bypassing common roads and streets to avoid detection. Listening to the creatures who roamed the woods, the dust sticking to their boots, and the roar of water not too far from them. They were close. Eerily close to the whipping white waters, warning them to stay away. They’d reached Wutai’s continent sooner than expected.

There wasn’t much conversation. Only the occasional intake of air. Citlali’s booming headache like a heartbeat, throbbing with every step. 

It didn’t help that her hearing was still subpar.

But Silas, how she sympathized for him. Burns. Crimson against his bronzed complexion. A distinct line from where his metal bands had come in contact with his skin, leaving perfectly shaped circles now rubbing against leather. IrritatedIrritated from not only the blazing sun above them, but the constant picking his fingers had caused.

She bet it hurt, much worse than the aching pain in her ear. She always knew he could handle pain. Unnerved by the needles Shinra dispatched or the fire of being punched in the stomach. Coming back up without so much as a whine from his thin-shaped lips. How many stories those scars could tell. How similar Silas was to John. 

A big brooding man who thought pain was beneath him.

Citlali wished she could pull that off. 

Sticking her ground and letting the swing of a punch take her down. Experience pain differently. Instead she panicked anytime a doctor had given her a vaccination. The mako shots, needles and boosters never tired her. Adrenaline rushed to her heart whenever she was called into the medical unit, the scientists poking and prodding her with every unimaginable tool until she met their standards. She even flinched at a punch. Not something an upcoming first-class SOLDIER would do. 

They made it look all too easy. Swallowing fear that is. 

Sephiroth, John, Angeal and Genesis, the four faces of SOLDIER hiding their pain, their loss. Like nothing. Citlali stayed up too many nights wondering how it would change her. How she too would quietly smile in the cameras until the lights went off, revealing the sorrowful eyes of hurt and tragedy only when the curtains closed. How power ultimately corrupts them. How envious they’d become to want a normal life.

Citlali had already planned to never marry even before she signed her contract, but being told a hard and distinct no made it all the more delicious to consume. The forbidden fruit. Always. A perfect red apple that stayed beyond her fingertips, so painfully wanting her to take the leap. But she didn’t dare step over that bridge.

Not yet at least.

Citlali had almost walked into Sephiroth’s arm. Too lost in her thoughts and too hard of hearing to experience the deep and guttural growl escaping the forest. Close enough to listen in on the drips of it’s saliva hitting the gravel, it’s tail whipping through the leaves with sharp flicks, cutting branches in its wake.

Silas raised his gun. 

[random-imagines-blog]

Dark Light {Gaspard Ulliel x Reader Oneshot}

Wordcount: 2793 Requested by: Anonymous Summary: During the zombie attacks around the world, you leave the big city for the French countryside. While seeking shelter, you come across another survivor.

The world had gone to hell in the space of a couple of months. It had started with a virus that had gone around, something akin to the flu but was strong enough to kill those whose lungs weren’t functioning at a hundred percent, then turned into something more as the scientists started to look for a vaccine. People stayed isolated in their homes for months, waiting for the day that it was announced that they could resume their normal lives - but that announcement never came. Instead, while in the search for a cure, the scientists found a new strain of the virus which was a flesh-eating strain. This mutated into something that affected the brain and the blood, and could turn people into what the media has been calling zombies for decades. One rogue scientist, a man who believed that he knew the cure for this new virus, released it. He was inspired by greed, and the desire to feel needed. He was positive that the government would throw money at him to make this problem go away - but the problem was that the virus came a full circle, affected him and the rest of his team - the only people who would know how to fix this problem. That was a couple of months ago, and it spread around the world from victim to victim until a lot of the population had this virus, and there was nothing that could  be done except for go into hiding.

You had to abandon Paris, the city that you loved so much. Your last look of it was from miles away. Never before had the Eiffel Tower looked so beautiful, though all of the lights were off due to nobody working there anymore. There wasn’t any power in the city, what with the infected attacking the power station. You packed everything into your car, and started the drive out through the small roads, taking the least trafficked areas because the highways would be disaster zones. For the first time, you were glad that you didn’t have a lot of family, because being on your own was easier than currently being strapped down with kids. You had seen the terror that they caused - a crying baby had brought the death of a family of six. It was the worst sight that you had ever seen. You didn’t even have a pet to worry about, though you did wish you had a dog to keep you company. Who knew how long it would be before you would come across other people?

Instead of going down the roads, you cut across wide fields of French land, avoiding the abandoned cars. You came across an old barn that seemed to be deserted, and pulled your car in through the shabby doors and turned it off. You needed a rest after driving for so many hours. Your eyes were starting to burn with the strain of looking at so much green. Taking a baseball bat out the backseat of your car, you slowly got out, leaving the door open, and looked around the interior of the barn. You never could be too careful in these times. You were just about to deem it safe when the sound of coughing came from the upper part of the building. The hay loft, you thought it was called.

“Who is there?” You called out, holding the bat securely. There was more coughing, followed up by a sneeze. Cautiously, you went to the thin metal ladder and started to climb, just poking your head above the opening. It was darker up here than it was below, so you had to squint to make out the figure. It was a man, leaning against some old haybales. The smell of the straw was strong, but not strong enough to cover the scent of bird dung. “Hello?” You said, quieter this time.

“I’m not infected, don’t hit me,” A rather ragged sounding voice came from the man.

“You don’t sound like you’re alright...” You ventured, going up another rung on the ladder. “How long have you been here for?”

“A couple of days, I think. I was making my way East until I caught this cold.”

“So you aren’t from the farmhouse then?”

“No, no, I’m from Boulogne-Billiancourt,” He coughed into a handkerchief. You frowned as you heard that - it didn’t sound good. A coughing man would surely bring the infected around. They tended to go to any place that was noisy, thinking humans were there. Or that was what was assumed. Nobody knew if they thought at all.

“I’m from Paris too,” You said. “Hold on a minute, I might have something that can help you.”

You went back down the ladder and to your car, rummaging in the backseat for a small bag full of the things that had been in your bathroom. Peroxide, over the counter medicine, even a little bit of makeup in the hopes for better days. You found some tablets for cough and cold, though they were the kind that would make one drowsy.

At least the man was unlikely to get up and steal your car if he took these. You shook out two of the tablets, then went to your trunk where you had bottled water. You took one of those, then ascended back up the staircase. “Here, take them. They’ll knock you out but you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“Will you stay?” The man asked. “In the barn, I mean. I do not know if those infected can climb but-”

“I intend to spend the night in my car,” You told him. “So I’ll be close.”

“Thank you.” The man crawled forward, and though he was close, it was hard to see what he looked like in the darkness. He took the pills and the tablets from you, then retreated back. “My name is Gaspard.”

You told him your name in return, then smiled, though he couldn’t see. “I’ve still got a supply of food left in my car, so if you want some breakfast before I head out, I’ll leave you something.”

“Thank you,” He said, gratefully. You went back down, and got into the drivers seat of your car. You took a deep breath in, then out, and then reclined your chair as much as you were able in the hope of getting a decent nights sleep.

-

What woke you up was not the sound of zombies, but rather, a knock on the door of your car. You rose to a start, wiping off the bit of drool that had come out during your slumber, then looked at who was calling upon you.

“It’s okay - it’s me, Gaspard.” The man said. And indeed he was. You had not recognized his voice, but you recalled him from cinema, and from commercials that he had done. It brought you back to the way that things were before, when you were just going to see films with your friends, making thirst jokes over the actors. Including the one in front of you.

He didn’t look the same as he did when he was on the screen. But who would in the zombie apocalypse. The movies had lied about the women still looking glamorous and the men somehow managing to keep somewhat clean shaven. He had a scruffy look about him that made him look almost like a pirate.

“I - I’m sorry, you startled me.” You said, blinking a couple of times, coming back to the present moment. He moved back and you got out of the car, but kept the baseball bat with you the entire time. Just because he was a celebrity didn’t mean that you could trust him. “How did you sleep?”

“Whatever you gave me worked amazingly,” He said with a smile. You could see that infamous dimple on his cheek when he did so. “I wanted to return the favor.”

He offered you a gift. In his hand was a bag that looked like it had been made out of a potato sack. You hesitantly took it and looked inside to find a couple of fresh oranges inside. You almost started to drool at the sight. Fresh produce had become nearly impossible to get a hold of, since there were no working farmers. “Where did you get these?” You thought to ask before taking one out.

“There are orange trees on this farm. And apples, but they aren’t ripe.”

“Well, thank you.” You said, taking one out and started to peel it. There was a happiness in the look that Gaspard gave you as you enjoyed the fruit right in front of him. This was the apocalypse. There was no need to feel shame in making a pig out of yourself in front of a very attractive man. “Oh - I offered you breakfast, didn’t I?”

“You did, but you already ate, so do not worry about it.”

You thought for a moment, looking around the barn. “This is the safest place that I’ve seen in a long time. Maybe it would be best to stay another night here, collect some fruit before taking off.” You licked your lips, then looked back at the very attractive actor. “So I’ll replace the breakfast offer with dinner, how does that sound?”

“Good, that sounds good,” Gaspard nodded.

-

Throughout the day, you and Gaspard were up in the hayloft, mostly talking. He still coughed and sniffled a bit, but not bad enough for you to be worried about zombies hearing him. You let it slip that you recognized him from his films, and he stayed surprisingly humble.

“Celebrity does not matter anymore,” He said, which made a lot of sense. “All of the money in France can do nothing for me now.”

“That’s true - but hopefully when they find a cure to this thing, you can go back to your normal life.” It was taking a toll on you, this false positivity that you were putting forth, but there was nothing else to cling to in these dark times. Even in the films, the monsters only came out at night, but the daylight meant nothing here.

“If there is a cure,” Gaspard muttered. You looked over at him, and decided not to fight it. He was entitled to his negativity.

“The sun will be going down soon. I’ll see what I can round up for a decent dinner.”

“Escargot?” Gaspard asked, picking up a snail that was crawling across his pant leg. You laughed, took the snail from him, and put it on your shoulder until you could get outside and put it back into the grass where it belonged.

“I’m not that good of a cook. Plus it would be tough to find butter, unless this was a dairy farm.” He laughed along with you, and followed you down the ladder onto the ground. You put the snail on a rather large thicket of grass, then went to your car and took a look through it all. “I have some tins,” You said, going through the bag of cans. “And some jerky if you’re craving meat.”

“I can build a smaller fire with this hay, we can find a way to cook this,” He said, picking out a tin of stew.

“Sounds like a plan,” You said with a smile.

-

Half an hour later, behind the barn so that the whole thing wouldn’t go up in flames, Gaspard had a fire started. You looked around the barn and found a shovel, which you cleaned off as best as you could in the well you found on the property, and you were using that to prop up the can over the flames. It would also do as a decent bowl. Once the can was hot, you used a stick to knock it onto the hot shovel, then laid it  between you and Gaspard. It wasn’t the most romantic meal in the world, and it did taste a bit like metal, but all in all, it wasn’t too bad.

“Here, I saved you the big piece of beef,” Gaspard said, using one of the spoons you had packed for emergencies. You certainly didn’t plan on being out in this world, eating out of cans with your hands. And you were smart enough to bring a can opener as well. Preparation is key.

“You’re the sick one, you need the nutrients more than I do,” You pushed the beef back towards him, which he hesitantly took. You smiled and took a swig from the waterbottle you opened, then passed it over. It seemed quite natural to share in these trying times, and besides, when else are you going to have the chance to get this close to Gaspard Ulliel?

There was a moaning sound which completely removed the good mood of the night. You hissed and got up, looking around for the zombie. You had kept your metal baseball bat with you the whole time, not in fear of Gaspard, but knowing that all of this was too good to be true and something was going to come ruin it any second now.

“It must have been drawn to the light from the fire,” Gaspard whispered, picking up the shovel. It was only the metallic spade that was hot, the handle was fine. “I should have thought, I’m sorry.”

“Just pack up whatever we took out of the car, I’ll take care of it,” You insisted. You weren’t exactly a ninja or a super soldier, but given that Gaspard was still sick, you were the one on the front lines.

The body came jerking out from behind some trees. You smelled him before you saw him, the scent of rotting meat making your nostrils curl. You ran up to it, your heart pumping with adrenaline, and hit it across the head as hard as you could. The skull caved in, shattering the brain, and the zombie fell down. You spit on it, wiping your now bloody bat on it’s pant legs, when you felt something grab you from behind. The stench was overpowering, as was the zombie it was attached to. You hit it as best you could but it had you in a bear hug from behind. You were leaning forward, trying to get all of your skin away from it’s face.

But then it became limp, and fell upon you, the both of you tumbling down to the ground. The weight was enormous, and you couldn’t push it off of you. Gaspard’s head appeared from above, and his arms were grabbing at the body, pulling it off of you. You kicked off as much as you could on your own, and groaned in disgust at your clothes. Gaspard offered you his hand, and you got up to your feet, looking around you. “I think it was just the two of - wait, don’t open your mouth.”

Gaspard, who was just about to say something, closed his lips immediately upon you saying that. Since your shirt was ruined anyway, you took it off, and approached him slowly. He became confused by this gesture, until you got in close and started to rub the blood off of his face with a clean corner. “You don’t want to risk infection by getting any of this in your mouth,” you explained, not feeling any sort of bashfulness.

“Thank you,” He  said, allowing you to clean off his face. It had gotten caught on his facial hair and the thought of him getting infected just from the bristles touching his lips was terrifying. Once you were finished, you swung the shirt over your shoulder and motioned back towards your car. “You’re welcome to come with me, if you want to. There’s probably more coming.”

“There’s always more coming,” Gaspard said, following you to your car. There was a quiet lull when you started to drive, heading across the fields, away from the direction the zombies were coming. Then you started to laugh as you realized that you were still clad in your jeans and undergarments - and not much else.

“Do you think you could hand me a shirt? There should be some in the bag behind my seat,” You asked. Gaspard chuckled and reached into the back, finding a t-shirt and held onto it for a moment.

“I don’t know if I want to give his to you.” He said, with a smirk. “I like you the way you are now. A lot, actually.”

[dancinginthecenteroftheworld]

Nov 16: Cuddle (Brienne/Jaime)

Brienne has no intention of calling Jaime Lannister. She really doesn’t.

She’s not sure why he gave her his number and offered to let her visit Brenna. Pity, probably. And fine, it was nicer than she expected from someone like him. In Brienne’s experience rich, handsome men who clearly get anything they want don’t care much about others. 

So it was kind enough, and it did make her feel better about sending Brenna and the kittens home with him. 

But she wasn’t going to call him.

Then she has one of the worst days she’s had in a long time. Brienne is used to bad days. It’s part of her job, and she’d known when she went to vet school that it wasn’t going to be all happiness and cuddles. She’s here to take care of animals when they’re sick or hurt and that isn’t happy. 

Still, it’s usually spread out. 

Then her day started with news a of an animal hoarding situation outside of town, an influx of dogs and cats (and, oddly, chickens) that the shelter can’t handle, many of whom were too sick or injured to be save. Then Brienne had left the shelter in Asha’s hands and gone to the clinic to be met with more sorrow and loss.

Some is unavoidable. Pets don’t live as long as people, they get sick, they get old and Brienne knows that. But while some of the cases fall into that category, she also has several of the kind she hates. The kind where an animal’s suffering could have been avoided with proper care, with an owner who gave a minimum of effort to keep a dog on a leash or a cat inside or stay up to date with preventative vaccines. 

And then the dog who has been exposed rabies also bites Brienne, so she has to head off to the health clinic and let Doc Luwin jab her with the first of four incredibly injections, leaving her arm sore and throbbing. 

So Brienne is sad, she’s tired, and she can’t stop thinking about Brenna and how close the sweet cat had come to losing out, just because people couldn’t be responsible owners. 

Before she knows it, Brienne is pulling up the phone and dialing Jaime Lannister (and honestly, who puts their own name in a phone as Most Handsome Cat Owner?) and asking if he meant it when he said she could visit.

Jaime clearly hasn’t expected her to call either, because he stumbles over his words and sounds shocked. But he refuses to let Brienne back out of asking, and it’s not long before she’s waiting in front of one of the nicer condo complexes in town. 

To Brienne’s surprise, Jaime meets her outside before she can ring the bell. 

“My brother has the cats,” he explains as he types a code to let them in. “Until Christmas morning.” 

Right, they’re a gift. Brienne still isn’t sure that’s wise. She doesn’t get a chance to say it, though, because they walk in and Brienne has the brief, disorienting sensation of becoming a giant. Or feeling like one. 

The furniture in the condo seems smaller than usual, much, and everything is just off, slightly, in a way Brienne can’t put a finger on.

At least not until a man walks out of one of the back rooms and Brienne sees he’s a dwarf. Or little person, she supposes, is the accurate statement. 

That would explain why the furnishings make Brienne feel even bigger than usual. 

“You must be Brienne,” the man says, holding a hand out. “Tyrion, the smarter Lannister.” 

He has mismatched eyes and he’s nowhere near as handsome as Jaime, but there’s something about Tyrion that makes Brienne feel a little more at ease as she greets him. 

The cats are being held in a back bedroom, to save Tyrion’s furniture from fur and claws. (”It’s not exactly easy to find,” he says. “Jaime’s far less particular.”)

Jaime mumbles something under his breath, but Brienne doesn’t hear it, because they’ve reached the bedroom and Brenna is curled up on the bed (normal size, Brienne notes, possibly larger than typical) in a sunbeam.

Brienne rushes over to the cat, stroking gently as Brenna wakes up and regards Brienne for a few seconds before starting to purr. There’s a startled noise of surprise from Tyrion – “she doesn’t do that for me” –  and then Brenna is crawling into Brienne’s lap. Brienne pays no attention to the room, just holding the sweet cat and whispering into her fur how glad Brienne is that she found a home, even if it is with an insufferably wealthy, arrogantly pretty man, how lucky Brenna is to live in such a nice place, how happy and spoiled she looks now. 

When Brienne feels more even-keeled, she finally looks up. Tyrion has slipped out at some point, but Brienne is alarmed to find Jaime is still there, idly waving a feather wand around for the kittens to pounce. They’re bigger, alert and healthy, happily chasing the toy and climbing all over Jaime. 

“Sorry,” Brienne says, blush rising in her face. 

“I told you to call,” Jaime says. He offers a crooked smile. “I didn’t think you’d do it though.”

“I didn’t either,” Brienne admits. “It’s been a long day.”

“Working at an animal shelter must be hard,” Jaime says. “I looked it up, after, how many animals wind up there.”

“And the clinic,” Brienne adds. “Most people are great owners, but some ...”

“Clinic?” 

“I’m a vet,” Brienne says, realizing she never mentioned that. “Asha – Dr. Greyjoy and I took over when the Manderly’s retired.”

Something in Jaime’s face shifts.

“The mysterious Dr. Tarth,” he says. “I wondered.”

Brienne tilts her head, so confused she forgets to pet Brenna. Brenna chirps a protest. 

“I handled the loan application,” Jaime explains.

Jaime Lannister. Lannister Bank. Wealthy. The pieces suddenly slot together in Brienne’s mind. 

Jaime tosses the feather toy down and the kittens rush on it. He moves to sit on the edge of the bed, closer to Brienne. This near to him, Brienne can see flecks of silver starting to form in his golden hair and beard, the way his green eyes have several shades of emerald and jade.

“She’s not this cuddly with me or Tyrion,” Jaime says, looking down at Brenna. He reaches over to pet her as well, his fingers brushing lightly against Brienne’s.

Brienne tries to ignore the tingling sensation she gets when his hand touches her skin. 

“It takes time,” she says, hoping the increasing redness in her face isn’t too obvious. “She’s had it rough, she doesn’t know who to trust.”

“Staying here probably doesn’t help,” Jaime says. “But I want to surprise Tommen, so Tyrion’s watching them until Christmas. I know he’d love them just as much now but he’s had it rough and I just  want it to be special for him.”

“Your nephew,” Brienne remembers. 

“Tommen Baratheon,” Jaime confirms. “I know a cat isn’t much consolation for having your mother and brother murder your father but ...”

He shrugs helplessly.

“You think she did it, then?” Brienne has heard the story. Everyone in town has. Varys is having a field day at The Weekly Spyder. 

“My sister? Absolutely.” Jaime shakes his head. “The younger kids, they’re not. They haven’t had it easy. So anything I can do.”

It’s a far different story than Brienne would have expected to hear when Jaime walked into the shelter, looking around like he was entitled to anything he wanted from the dingy building. 

Brenna is delighted to have two people petting her, stretching out on Brienne’s lap to better receive her adoration. It’s oddly peaceful, considering Brienne is in a strange house with a man she doesn’t know. 

But Brienne has responsibilities, and her own cats to take care of, so she can’t stay in this odd cocoon of warmth for long. 

“I’ve taken up too much of your time already,” Brienne says. Brenna gives a cranky meow when she’s nudged of Brienne’s lap and back onto the bed. Brienne waves goodbye at Tyrion, who is busy clattering around in the kitchen, and Jaime walks her to the door. 

“Would a hug help?” Jaime asks suddenly, as Brienne finishes buttoning her coat. 

“What?”

Jaime looks a little sheepish. “I hear they’re good for when you’re having a bad day.”

The way he says it is odd, like hugs aren’t a familiar concept. Brienne is opening her mouth to say no, because hugs do help but she doesn’t know Jaime, if she wants a hug she’ll go see her father or maybe even Sansa, but not a strange man. 

Except somehow no comes out as yes. 

Jaime is just a tiny bit shorter than Brienne and his arms wrap around her easily, Brienne awkwardly bringing hers around his waist. Jaime’s face is next to her own, his breath warm against her ear, ruffling her hair slightly. He smells like sandalwood and pine, his body a firm line of muscle against Brienne’s own.

They stay like that a few moments, longer than Brienne thinks they should, for two strangers, before Jaime releases her and takes a step back.

“You should come see Brenna again,” he says. “Call anytime.”

[greekowl87]

Fic: False Flags Redux 13/14

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) | AO3

Near the end. I’m still writing the last chapter but I finally got this one all edited. As always, a massive thanks to @mulders-boyish-enthousiasm (thanks for talking this chapter out with me) and @scully-loves-ruthie for the encouragement for making this possible.

Tagging @today-in-fic

13/13

Holiday Inn By The Airport

Norfolk, Virginia

December 22, 1998

Scully could not sleep. Nothing in the world could let her sleep. There were too many thoughts swimming through her head, too many memories, past and present, hopes for the future, trying to stay grounded in the moment. Halfway through the night, Mulder started twisting and turning beside her in the midst of a nightmare and that had woken her up. Unknowing what to do (or maybe it was a past life) she tried to comfort him. Pulling his head into her lap, she ran her hands up and down his chest soothingly, not know what else what to do.

“Ssshhh,” she soothed, “it’s just a dream.”

Her fingers raked through his hair as she bent over and peppered him with soft kisses.

. . . .

Yorktown, Virginia

February 7, 1865

Scully was pregnant. Very pregnant. By her calculations, she was easily six or seven months along. Her petite frame made it difficult not to notice. It made it difficult to do anything. But at night’s, although rare, there were moments where she still could do something, especially when he had nightmares at night. But the nightmares were not a new thing, just rare. She remembered him having them the first time they left Norfolk. It was a battle he could not remember. But now, it was something else. He kept muttering her name, his voice growing in panic. The last thing she wanted was to be disturbed. He was thrashing now and uncertainty, she placed her hands on either side of his face on his cheeks, whispering his name. His eyes fluttered open at the mere mention of her voice. His eyes had tears in them when they opened and he just held her tightly.

. . . .

Holiday Inn at the Airport

Norfolk, Virginia

December 22, 1998

“Mulder!” His hazel eyes were wild as they focused on her face. He tentatively reached out, as if unsure, as she leaned over him caressing his cheek. He closed his eyes in relief, her soft hands cradling his face and stroking his cheek soothingly. She bowed and rested her head gently against his. “Are you okay? You were having a nightmare.”

He let a breath out he had been holding unknowingly. She caressed his face tenderly, emotions from the past raged with the current ones. Hesitantly, she kissed her brow, then his cheeks.  He blinked with uncertainty.  “Is this a dream?”

“No.”

“What year is it, Scully?”

Scully continued to stroke his cheek as he tried to focus his eyes just on her. He flinched unconsciously but then relaxed as she kissed his cheeks gingerly, her soft touch grounding him into the present moment. “What year do you think it is?”

“I don’t know. I just dreamed--” Mulder winced, cringing, and curled around Scully’s body. “I can’t remember. The Civil War? Now? Earlier? I don’t know, Scully.”

“It’s 1998.”

He was shaking and Scully instantly lay down to let Mulder tangle himself about her, using her as an anchor to the present, as something physical and corporeal to hold onto. He clung to her desperately as if time itself was threatening to split them apart. Scully turned to face him in his web of limbs and continued to stroke his face soothingly. “Look at me,” she urged in a whisper. “Mulder, look at me.”

Hazy hazel eyes tracked her soulful blue ones. “I can’t--I don’t know what time it is. I can’t protect you. I always failed you. In every life, Scully. You’re always taken from me,” he sobbed into her chest. “I can never save you.”

“You have,” she whispered urgently into his hair. “This life. Now. You never gave up hope after my abduction. You found me in Antarctica.”

“I wanted too. I wanted too so badly, Scully.”

“But you didn’t. My cancer. You were the only who fought for my cure. Even after everyone gave up on me, you never did. Last summer. Antarctica. Who else would have dropped everything to travel to the ends of the world with an iffy vaccine? You’ve saved me, Mulder, more times than I can count. In this life. Right now. I’m not going anywhere.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes. “I dreamed I held you in my arms dying,” he murmured. “It wasn't the Civil War like the most recent memories have been.” He took a deep breath, trying to center himself and focus on Scully. His hands traced her body reverently, trying to memorize every curve. “We were speaking French I think.” He sighed, lingering around the joint where her shoulder met her arm. “There was something. Here. ”

Scully sighed softly, peppering him with kisses. “The Black Death,” she murmured, recognizing the description.

He nodded. “We've been connected together for centuries, Scully. You and me. Two souls.” He took a deep breath and turned into her. “Love you,” he breathed. “Love you, Scully.”

Scully did not know what to do with herself. All she could remember was the Civil War. Was he remembering other times? Why couldn’t she? There was so much emotion running through her. It was not lust. No. It was born out of centuries of coexistence. Neither existed without the other. She sighed and rubbed his arm and pulled him into her lap. “Love you too. Yin and yang.”

“Didn't think you would go all Eastern Mystic on me, Scully,” he chuckled. “I'm sorry to wake you up. What time is it?”

“Only two a.m,” she murmured. “It's okay.”

“You can only remember the Civil War.”

She nodded.

“I keep--” Mulder sighed, relaxing against her. “I keep getting flashbacks. I don't know what to believe anymore, Scully. It's like a million different images running through my head.”

“I know what you mean. Do you know what helped me during this past week?”

He shook his head against her. “It was you,” she murmured, raking her fingers through his short hair. “It was always you, Mulder. My constant. My one in five billion. My touchstone.”

“Where have I heard you say that before?”

“Maybe in another life,” she teased.

“I like it.” He smiled and reached out to caress her cheek lovingly. “I can’t get over it,” he began. He reached his hand up to rest of on the back of her neck. He could feel the chip under the slightly raised skin. She got the hint and bent forward to kiss him soundly. “How we arrived at this point. You.”

“Well, you can look at it one of two ways,” she said. “Either we’re soulmates or I have been eternally damned to keep your ass out of trouble.”

“I think a bit of both.” He chuckled softly. “How have I managed so long without you,” he teased. “Then you walk into the basement all proud and stubborn, and now…”

“Must have been luck.” She chuckled.

“Must have been fate,” he correctly softly as his fingers caressed the back of her neck affectionately. “Or we are just really lucky.”

“After all this, Mulder,” she spoke softly, her blue eyes never leaving him, “I want to go somewhere just for the weekend.”

“And do what?”

“I have memories of us being happy, Mulder. Of us together and we were going to be a family,” Scully mused. “Last year back in San Diego, when we found Emily...I was so hopeful, Mulder. I know I pinned all my hopes on hat adoption and I know she was not meant to be. But it was like to imagine it, you know?” She smiled as she let her fingers linger in his spiky hair. “Can I tell you a little confession, Mulder? When I first saw you with Emily, making the potato head face, I let myself indulge in the thought, that if somehow, by some miracle the adoption was to going through--” Her voice was caught and Mulder could sense her hesitation.

“Go ahead, Scully.”

She smiled to herself. “It seems silly and not at the same time,” she murmured, her eyes focusing on a part of his chest before gathering her thoughts. “When I saw you with Emily, and call me selfish, but I thought the three of us could be a little family. I, uh, toyed with the idea. I mean, we’re practically inseparable.”

“We almost were,” he murmured. “Are. Come lay back down.”

“No, no. I’m okay, Mulder. I like this actually.” She lazily played with hair and gave him a light kiss. “Like I said, I’ve also wanted to just play with your hair. I like the shorter, spiky hair you have been favoring recently.”

“If only we had realized it sooner, huh,” he teased. “Think of all the late night calls that could have been avoided if you sat like this with me on my couch.”

Scully smiled. “But like I said, we were happy in that life. I want to be happy in this life, even with my infertility. I have you. Do you feel any different?”

“Like you told me that night, I’m myself all at once.”

“After this,” she murmured, “I want to go somewhere with you, where we can fully explore this new thing between us and never let you go.” She grinned and kissed him again. “Or maybe now.”

“We still have time.”

“I still hate you want me to stay behind on this, Mulder.”

She was already in the process of flipping him on his back and straddling his hips. He slowed her as he placed his hands confidently on her hips and rubbed them affectionately. “Ever since that night, Scully, I can recall it just like you can,” he told her softly.

“Like your own memories.”

“They are our memories.” He nodded. “It kind of takes the fun of out exploring this new dynamic of our relationship though.” His hands palmed under her shirt grazing the smoothness of her warm skin. “I mean I know you love it when I do this.”

He lurched forward and kissed her solar plexus sensually and trailed it up her sternum. Scully gripped his shoulders tightly in response, digging her nails into his skin. For some reason, she never experienced kisses in that particular spot so extensively. Mulder’s hands took off her pajama top and smiled lustfully. “How the hell did you know how to do that?”

He smiled, tapping his temple. “I just do, Scully. That’s what I mean, I know how to elicit certain reactions from you as you can with me. The first time certainly showed that.”

“So where’s the fun in that,” she murmured, kissing him again.

“We can cut right to the chase.”

Scully grinned and raked her hands through his hair and arched her neck backward as Mulder trailed a series of sensual kisses down her neck and to her sternum. She opened her eyes and in a moment, caught the yellow envelope with the rings. She wondered, at that moment, whose life she was living? Was she caught in the past? Where had her present sense of self-done with their sense of professionalism and propriety? Or maybe, just for once, she truly was all of her self and this was how it was supposed to be.

“Scully, you still with me,” he asked, breaking away. She looked down at the man she held in her arms. She nodded shortly. “We’ll figure out something.”

“I wasn’t thinking that.”

“We can stop if you want.” Scully paused and looked down at him. “Scully, talk to me.”

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead gently against his. “What if this really isn’t me, Mulder? I mean, it’s me but not. I mean--” She sighed, exasperated. “I just don’t know, Mulder.” He kissed her gently and detangled her from his lap. Scully gazed at him forlornly and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, Mulder. I don’t know what’s come over me.”

“Talk to me.”

He sat next to her on the edge of the bed and hesitated to do anything else. Reluctantly, he summoned up the courage to gently grasp her hand, giving it a light squeeze. Scully picked up the envelope and held it between them. “What are we, Mulder?”

“What do you mean what are we?”

She dropped the rings back into her hand and showed it to him. “We remember another life, Mulder. We were married. We were happy.”

“We were,” he echoed.

“And in this life...everything changed in a week because we let it. What about the work?”

“Our work.” She was silent, unsure how to reply to that correction. “I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing,” he hesitated. What was she saying? “Scully, what are you not  telling me?”

“What if we are only acting this way because it is...imposed on us? Like our past selves are controlling our present bodies. What if you only feel like this because of the memories? What happens if it isn’t us?”

“Scully,” he murmured, taking a deep breath. “Last summer in the hallway, before the bee, everything I said...it was me. It was all me and I meant every word. You make me whole, Scully. And it’s not just your science, it’s you, all of you.” He framed her face in his hands and took a deep breath. “And I never had a chance to finish what I started.”

Her breath was caught in her chest as she recalled the tense atmosphere from last summer and then he kissed her, properly, like he should have had the first time. But it was so much more. So much more. He was the first to break away reluctantly. She closed her eyes and rested his head against hers.

“Everything we have, we created,” he said, his voice becoming lost in memories of past and present. “And we have a future.” He took a deep breath. “Promise me you stay here this morning while I go in with the task force.” She broke away, a protest about to rise upon her lips. “Scully, please, just for once, please, I’m begging you to do this for me. I can’t risk… I can’t…I can’t relieve that again.”

Scully sighed and closed her eyes, sighing. He knew how she felt about this but they both knew how each other felt it. Silently, just this once, she consented. “Okay, okay,” she conceded, nodding slightly. “Just this once. But know, I am not very happy about this.”

“I know. I’ll think of something to tell Benson but I will feel better knowing your here and Buckley won’t be able to get to you. We both know what he wants, Scully.”

Sighing, she nodded. “I know.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

She smiled. “I’m planning on it.”

. . . .

Yorktown, Virginia

February 23, 1865

Scully awoke to the chilly morning air alone in her bed with an achy back and a pillow between her legs. She groggily spied a folded piece of paper on her nightstand. Risking the chilly morning air and grabbed the note and brought it to her face while she still stayed in her warm cocoon of blankets.

‘S.- Happy birthday, my love and I guess happy three year anniversary too. Had to run with Walter up to the market concerning new wheels for the wagon. Be home before noon. Sharon is already expecting you to sleep in late. Take advantage of it.  See you when I get back. All my love. -M.’

She folded the note to her chest and gazed sleepily out the window seeing the morning’s first light break. She smiled to herself and felt the unborn baby kick. She closed her eyes, shushing her baby, and dreamed of a bright future full of New England summers, her, Mulder, and a happy little girl (or boy!) dangling in between their hands.

. . . .

Walter glanced at Mulder as he carefully maneuvered the wagon through the muddy road. He could not help but notice how Mulder just kept smiling in the cold morning air and even as it began to flurry. “What are you smiling about, William?” Skinner asked.

“I, uh,” he smiled, despite himself, “it’s Scully...Katherine’s birthday today and it also marks three years since we’ve, uh, met.”

“Became engaged you mean,” Skinner corrected, trying to keep Mulder’s story straight.

“Uh, yeah. But three years and it’s her birthday.”

Walter smiled. “Are you getting excited about the baby, William?”

“Truth is,” Mulder murmured, smiling and gazing down at his feet briefly in embarrassment, “the prospect is a little terrifying.”

“Well, one’s first child is always a little daunting.”

“This isn’t the first time, I uh, been through this. I was married before. Before Scully--I mean Katherine and I met, I was a widower. My wife has passed some seven years back in childbirth, along with the child. I fear for her. She is so small and I’ve heard things...how horrible things can go wrong.”

Skinner nodded in understanding. “Sharon and I, we’ve tried for years but we were never able to fully conceive,” Walter began. “Each miscarriage and stillbirth that she had, it should have killed her,

but she didn’t die. I am blessed every single day with her.”

Mulder nodded empathetically. Over the past few years, his view on the world had changed and he had developed a more positive outlook about life and even let himself dream about the future with his wife and soon to be child. He smiled in agreement. “I wanted to get her something special for today,” he said, “I’m just not sure what I can do.”

“I know just the shop,” Walter smiled. “We can get it while the wagon is getting repaired.”

. . . .

Virginia Beach, Virginia

December 22, 1998

Scully lips still tingled from their kiss earlier that morning as she changed into her jeans and one of her tee shirts and jackets to run down to the local 7-11 to grab her and Mulder coffee that morning before he left to join the rest of the task force at the branch office. Her mind kept replaying her conversation with Mulder over and over again, her mind flashing back and forth between past and present. Getting out of the car, she rubbed her eyes, trying to wipe away the lack of sleep and the doubt she had resting on the back of her mind. Unbeknownst to her there was someone watching her.

. . . .

I’m baaack. That’s my best Jack Nicholson impression. I suppose I could add that to my repertoire.

I disappeared for awhile and decided to let the work speak for itself. I wonder if they got my message. Hopefully, you did. When the FBI decided to let my profile go public. That made things harder but not impossible. I am always up for a challenge.  The information age makes it more challenging. The FBI hunted me back in the 1920s, I even got a mugshot and everything. I looked myself up once I realized who I was. I was an old ugly bastard. I was a fat chubby son of a bitch who liked to strangle people. Still, like the strangling but ain't fat. Now I’m I look like everyone else and that has been to my advantage. But I still can’t get past it. How the fuck do they look the same? Even have the same names?

I tried looking it up once. I read things about people changing sexes, looks, complete personalities. Hell, I’m living proof of it. Except when you begin to remember, you change out your personalities, your traits, while all at the same time still being you. I used to be a good guy in one life then I shot my cheating wife. I was upset sure but the bitch deserved it. Then the roaring 1920s. Then I learned to murder. Funny thing was I have enjoyed it. More so. I loved it. I’m sure I’ve told you that already. Or you could have it guessed it.

But I’ve been biding my time and waiting, underground, watching from the shadows. With help. There was a woman who came to me after I was first arrested, gave me a letter and that is what sparked all the memories and I was able to be me, all of me. She is still feeding me information, helping me stay off the FBI’s radar but I have my moment and I see it. Now it’s my time.

. . . .

Holiday Inn by the Airport

Norfolk, Virginia

December 22, 1998

Mulder yawned and checked his black Omega watch, checking the time. It was near six a.m. and Scully should have been back by now. A growing concern was gnawing at the back of his mind. Something was wrong, something was wrong with Scully. He pulled on a quick pair of jeans, his jacket, badge, and service weapon. He hurried downstairs to the front desk. The attendant forced a tired smile. “Good morning, sir,” he greeted, “how can I help you?”

Panic was racing through his mind. “Did you see the red-hair woman that I have been with come back this morning?” he stammered.

The other man shook his head. “No, sir but she asked about where to get some coffee. I directed her to a 7-11 next door.”

Mulder’s photographic memory was already formulating a route and was trying to remember if she had taken the car. No. No. Their rental keys had been in her room. She walked. Without another word, he jogged the short distance to the convenience store and on the ground, he saw the spilled coffee cups, stains of struggle, and glittering on the concrete from the artificial light of the store, was a small golden cross on a broken chain.

. . . .

Unknown Location

December 22, 1998

Memories danced before her eyes. She could see Mulder’s smiling face as her skin recalled his tantalizing touches and her heart tried to continue to beat with dreams of their future. But as her eyes opened, she was greeted to darkness and the familiar sensation of being bound with ropes tightly binding her wrists against something, a pipe may be, and familiar stiff stickiness of duct tape placed across her mouth. What a sad and pathetic thought she knew the sensation of being bound and gagged by a crazed madman. As she opened her eyes to be greeted by darkness.

Okay, Dana, first things first, Scully thought, observe, record, hypothesize, execute. The scientific method had served her well in the past.

She forced herself to sit upright. The first thing she was bound at the wrists but not to any pipes or furniture but they were tied behind her back.Progress. Could she stand? Her legs hurt but she shuffled them against the concrete floor. Okay. She could move, hands were bound, and concrete floor. A factory of some kind? A basement? Scully rolled awkwardly to the wall and somehow sat herself up. Getting to her feet would be more difficult. Besides, without any light, she was blind.

Then she heard someone whistling. The tune was familiar. She had heard it such a long time again. “Come where my love lies dreaming,” Scully mumbled, surprised. She knew that song. How--didn't matter. She knew that whistling. “Shit.”

The door unlocked and she squinted her eyes at the sudden blinding light. “Dana, dear, my darling wife. I’m so glad you’re awake.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Over a century and I see your manners have not improved.” She tried to get up. “And we aren’t married. Till death do us part. We died. We’re not married.”

“We are two souls reborn, Dana.” Buckley smiled indulgently and walked into her cell. “I see you're just as saucy as ever.”

“What do you want?”

“What I wanted last time,” he shrugged. “I want what’s mine. I want my wife. The Lieutenant broke his word to me. I gave him one job, one job, Dana and that was to make sure you stay out of trouble. But you had to run off, with him no less.”

Scully found it weird that she was conversing with him as if it was 1865 again but she was still herself, all at once. She was Dana Scully, the woman who had lived two lifetimes (that she was aware of) and her soul was still the same. But she also had the knowledge of a doctor and an FBI agent at her disposal as well. “What did you expect me to do? The city was going to be invaded. I had to run.”

“Don’t think I didn’t know about your little spying you did with the Lieutenant, Dana,” he continued, oblivious to her reply. “I caught your correspondence.”

“Then why didn’t you kill me then?”

“I hoped you would come to your senses but I see you lost them. But now, things are different.” He tapped his head. “See, I didn’t remember you until I saw you last year. Not fully. I dreamed of you, of our wedding.” He smiled. “You were so beautiful that day.”

“Shut up,” she snapped.

“I’m a bit younger and better looking back then, don’t you think?” Buckley kneeled down and front of her, grabbed her shirt, and forced her into a violent kiss. Scully kept her self from gagging and bit his lower lip, hard, drawing blood and Buckley threw her back against the concrete wall. He laughed mockingly and rubbed his bloody lip. “Seems like you’ve only gotten more feisty with age. Oh, what fun we’ll have my beautiful, Dana, what fun.”

. . . .

Yorktown, Virginia

March 18, 1865

The early spring day was warm as they walked along the sandy banks of the York River, Mulder lagging behind slightly to watch his wife waddle as she kept her hands on either side of her enlarged abdomen for balance. He smiled. “Any day now, right?”

“About a month, give or take? You ready to meet your little girl?”

“So the little one is a girl today?”

“For the time being,” she teased. “How did you convince Walter to let you have the day off?”

“My pregnant wife needed some pampering,” he replied, “and I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

That was another thing she loved about Mulder. He loved her for just being her. He encouraged her to read and stretch her intellectual muscles. He talked about when they did reach Martha’s Vineyard, that if she wanted, they could move inland and find a place where she could attend university if she desired it. Whatever she wanted. To him, she was his equal, and he treated her as such. She just loved him even more.

“You truly are something else, Mulder.” She looked about the area. “How is this?”

“Whatever is my queen’s command.”

“Here.”

Her smiled made him feel as if he could fly. Mulder unrolled the blanket that they had brought with him and laid it over the sand. He unslung the sack of their lunch and anchored it to the top of the blanket. There was no wind. It was warm. The sun was shining with no clouds in the sky. There was still a light Union army presence but more than anything, was a comfort, knowing that despite the war, the victor’s presence ensured peace.

Mulder set the blanket out and sat on top of it. Scully smiled indulgently at her husband held out her hand. “Oh, my apologies, my queen.”

He grasped her hand warmly and guided her to his lap. She cried out in surprise and her hand immediately went to her stomach. “Oh!”

“What?” he asked in alarm. “Is it the baby?”

“Yes, it’s the baby, but I’m just surprised,” she told him.

Quickly she grabbed his other hand and held it over her stomach. He felt their unborn baby kicking against her. She smiled at Mulder as he smiled at her adoringly. “Not much longer now, huh?”

“Pretty soon, you’re gonna be a daddy.”

“I still can’t believe it.”

He arched his head up to kiss her soundly. Scully hugged him to her breast and reflected lazily, that three years ago, she would have never imagined this. Happy, genuinely happy

. . . .

Scully pressed her face into Mulder’s chest as he tried to sooth her despite their restraints. “We’re going to be okay. We’ll be fine.” He took a moment to look up and saw his old captain, Franklin Buchan, gaunt, pale,  and struggling with a cane, but looking pissed off as hell with that old service revolver hanging off his side. Somehow, he also saw the man that had supposedly been tracking them since they left Norfolk, Alex Krycek. Scully wasn’t crying; she would never let them see her weakness but she was scared. Her hands kept going to their unborn child as much as she could.

Scully had tears in her eyes as she closed her eyes and murmured in a weak voice, “I’m scared, Mulder.”

His heart pulled in his chest. “I know, Scully,” he whispered, just for her. “I know, angel but now is it not the time.” He nuzzled her forehead. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I know,” she murmured. Her heart was hammering in her chest. “He’s going to kill us.”

“Don’t say that, Scully.”

“I know him, Mulder.” He took a deep breath and sighed as she closed her eyes. “Mulder?”

“Hmmm?”

She looked at him questioningly and he pulled her close to his chest as much as he could with their bindings. She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. “Mulder, pray with me,” she murmured just for him. “Please.”

Mulder nodded softly and bowed his head. She did the same, resting her head against his. “Pater Noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum,” she began softly.

. . . .

Norfolk, Virginia

December 22, 1998

This can’t be happening. Not again. Not like this. Not this time. How come Scully always got the short end of things?

Mulder stood against the wall outside of the convenience store watching a combination of feds and local police rove the crime scene. The good news is that they had positively identified Buckley as the one who had kidnapped Scully, but that where the trail ran cold. After all, aside from the bodies, there had been no sign of Buckley since his escape and none of this helped Mulder’s racing fear. He remembered the helplessness he felt with her abduction, how late he had been. If only he could have gotten there a few seconds earlier. Then Scully could have had her life back. She would have never had to experience cancer. She would still be able to have children. Maybe Emily would have lived a happier life instead of dying as a hybrid, a fate no little girl deserved. He could have saved her.

Mulder was going to find Scully. He was not going to let anything happen to her again. Not in this life.

From the distance, Agent Fowley noticed the deep frown settled across Mulder’s brow. She looked at ASAC Benson, who was distracted and currently talking to some of the forensic techs at the moment. Taking this moment, she walked towards Mulder, catching him off guard. “Fox,” she started softly, “are you okay?”

Mulder blinked, coming out of his thoughts and the thick fog of his insecurities. “How do you think I am, Diana?” he growled. Sighed, he caught himself, curbed his anger, took a deep breath, and answered. “I don’t know how I should feel. I can’t...I can’t let my mind go there. After seeing those bodies over the past week, his work, I hope…” He swallowed. “I know we’ll find her.”

“Why do you think he took her?” Mulder was silent. Why had Diana said he? Why did she automatically assume it was Buckley but she pushed further. “Fox, I know you better than you think I do. I know it has to do with past lives and I know you believe it.”

“He’s just crazy and delusional,” he muttered in a vain attempt to dismiss her. Where was Diana going with this? What was she implying? “Why do you say that?”

“I’m not dumb. All the victims have some similarity to Agent Scully. Everyone sees it except you, or at least you’re misleading Benson. I know you, Fox.”

He scoffed angrily. Of course, he saw it. Mulder remembered it. He knew. But Diana mistook it for disbelief, but she was right. It was because of a past life he shared too. But he was not about to let Diana know that. His loyalty was to Scully and Scully alone. What changed in Mulder? It was not so long ago he was accused Scully of jealousy when it came to Diana. But now, a part of him knew that Diana should not be trusted. Why? What caused it? The past week’s astounding revelations of him and Scully, because they were actually soulmates? He had to play it safe and push his theories aside.

“When we met with him after his sentencing,” Mulder began carefully, “he called Scully ‘Dana.’”

“His journals mention a woman, a wife that was taken. It started right after he was arrested.”

He had read that too.

“By a man.”

“I’ve read his journals,” he snapped angrily. “I know what he thinks and I’ve seen what he is capable of. You constant pandering is not going to help me find her!”

Mulder pushed off the wall to make his way towards the ASAC as he chatted with the local detectives. Diana would not be so easily dismissed. She grabbed Mulder’s forearm like a claw. Mulder’s hazel eyes narrowed dangerously. “Think about what you’re about to do, Fox,” she purred menacingly.

All of Scully’s warnings came back in an instant. It had almost destroyed their partnership. Even then, ever since they were reassigned to the bullpen, their partnership was fraught with difficulty. He had dismissed her but in the past week, everything had changed. Diana was no friend to him or Scully.

Everything had changed in the past week. A whole lifetime of change.

Scully. His partner. His wife? His friend. His lover? The mother of his child? His partner. His soulmate. Things were complicated between them, they had always been difficult. Extremely complicated. But he loved Scully. He did not know when he fell in love with her, at this point, he felt he was repeating myself, but he loved Scully. Diana had nothing on her but a passing fix during the dark time of his life, in both lives. Scully changed that; she’d changed everything. And now, Mulder could not let anything happen to her. Not after all this. Not after what they had just rediscovered between them.

“I know what I am about to do,” he hissed, his voice talking on a coldness honed from centuries’ worth of love. “I’m going to get Scully back.”

Mulder pushed past his ex-wife, feeling liberated and empowered at the same time. He strove towards the ASAC with a plan already forming in his mind.

. . . .

Unknown Location

December 22, 1998

It was a waiting game. Scully was still discreetly trying to find any weaknesses in her restraints but so far, no avail, but she still kept Buckley talking, which was a good thing. At the very least, she could get some answers. The past blended with the present as the mannerisms of the old sea captain she had called her husband in the 19th century made itself known. Buckley paced a lot, often limping and favoring the leg which he had been shot in back in 1862. He kept swirling a glass of something, whiskey from the smell of it. He looked unstable and his voice kept slipping in between a New Yorker, a slight southern accent, and the neutral American accent he had when she and Mulder first arrested him. But it was like multiple personalities were battling it out for dominance.

“How did you realize who I was, Franklin,” Scully began, adjust her arms.

Buckley smiled. “Franklin. Are you having trouble keeping everything straight too, Dana? I always had trouble. Ever since the dreams began when the woman brought me the letter and then I remembered. I remember agreeing to marry you with your father, and our wedding. Wasn’t that such a grand day?” Scully did not answer and Buckley continued without a second thought to her. “Then I remembered the dinner party and the Lieutenant.”

“It was my birthday and you left me there, ignored.”

“Not like you didn’t deserve it, Dana,” Buckley dismissed with a wave of his hand. “You ran off like a whore and gave him a child! Not me but him!”

“You had nine children already! You made my life miserable!”

“You’re place was in the house! It still is. You weren’t supposed to have your own thoughts or dreams. You belonged to me!” he screamed. “You always belonged to me!”

Scully quieted, her thoughts retreating to a different time very much like this one.

. . . .

Yorktown, Virginia

March 18, 1865

Mulder had long ago managed to rid them of their restraints but they could not free themselves from the locked shed that they now found themselves in. It must have been the evening because the air had grown colder. He had taken off his jacket and given it to Scully and had pulled her close in a weak effort to keep her warm. In a rare moment of weakness, she cried, doing her best to silence her weak sobs into Mulder’s chest as he held them. He tried to find his voice to bring some comfort to his wife, the woman that had brought him to life again but he couldn’t. He could not bring Scully any hope when he did not have any himself. In the distance, he could hear them, the captain and Krychek. There was another voice too that he did not recognize but he could also smell the stench of cigarettes. She groaned in surprise before hushing their unborn child softly as felt strong kicking against her stomach.  Mulder felt her choke a sob and whisper, “We’re not going to get away, are we?”

. . . .

Unknown Location

December 22, 1998

Scully had been freed from her restraints hours ago and placed in a locked room of some kind. She took stock of her scenery. A small bathroom with a sink and toilet, a small cot in the corner with a pillow and a scratchy wool blanket, bland walls and small bookcase full of old books. That could come in handy later on. Even then, it was clear that Buckley planned to keep her alive for the moment. But the entire situation mirrored her predicament back in 1865. But this time, she was going to make it. She was determined too. He had not beaten her or harmed her in any way beyond the rope burns from her initial restraint. Clearly, he was laying a trap to trap to try and draw Mulder out but would he even know where to start? Would Mulder realize that it was a trap to begin with?

“Dana,” he crooned from beyond the locked door, knocking on it lightly. “Dana, dear, can I get you anything?”

“A gun so I can blow out your brains,” she hissed, kicking the heavy door. “Fucking bastard. You weren’t content killing me the first time around so you are trying to do it again?”

“I didn’t mean to kill you last time, Dana!” Buckley’s voice weighed heavily with desperation. She heard him shuffled on the other side of the door. “I meant only to scare you. I wanted to kill the Lieutenant. Never you, my sweet angel. I don’t know how my pistol went off. It was an accident. ” Scully shivered as he called her that. “You and the babe, I would have taken back without a moment’s hesitation. It is not your fault you had such grandiose ideas. Hysteria was and still is a common ailment many women suffer. You still do.” He guffawed, sounding strange. “And you a doctor now! Graduated the University of Maryland and became a doctor at John Hopkins! My Dana! But you’re head’s still in the clouds. I can still make a proper wife out of you, Dana.”

Scully’s mind was racing. There were so many things that her mind was racing and connecting that her logic could not keep up. How did he know she was a doctor? He would’ve known she had performed the autopsies. That would have come up at the trial. But how did he know personal information where she received her degrees from? That didn’t make sense. But something else stuck out like a heavy blow to her gut.

“What do you mean that you would welcome me and my child with open arms?” she hissed. She withdrew suddenly from the door in disgust, feeling her body was suddenly being invaded again just like when she had been abducted. Emily flashed before her eyes, the daughter she never knew. Mulder. Mulder smiling at her in bed just less than a few nights ago after their first coupling in this life. “You killed Mulder, me, and my child!”

“It was an accident,” he cried in a hoarse whisper. “I...I...I didn’t mean for my sidearm to go off. You have to believe me. All I wanted was a family with you.”

“Your nine children weren’t enough?” she spat.

“I just wanted a family with you too. For seven years, I thought there was something wrong with you. I thought that was why you couldn’t have children and then I find you pregnant with the Lieutenant’s child.”

“Do you ever consider you could have been impenitent?” She closed her eyes, her mind flashing between present and past, past and present. Mulder, she thought dizzyingly. “So you kidnap me in this life? How did you even know where to find me?”

“Didn’t you appreciate my art, Dana? I did all that for you. You marvel at the mysteries of the dead now, don’t you? I’m an artist who created for my muse, my beautiful wife! I did it all for you. Could you not tell the symbolism of each body? I knew you were reclaiming your memory over the past week. I knew it the moment you screamed at me in the jail cell. I just spurned it along.”

Scully felt bile rising up in her throat angrily and she bawled her fists.“I am not your wife,” she spat. She kicked the door. “Not in that life and certainly not in this life.”

She watched the heavy door wearily, her body tensing, waiting for him to come through the door and attack. But all she saw was the door shake violently that she felt reverberate through her spine. “Fine! If I have to kill the Lieutenant again, I will. You will be my wife, Dana and we’ll finally have that family which I promised you all those years ago!” he screamed. The voice of a madman.

Scully lowered her gaze to the concrete ground, hearing his heavy footfalls stalk away, and closed her eyes. Her index finger and thumb tightly squeezed the tiny golden cross against her throat as she began to pray. “Pater Noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum,” she began softly.

. . . .

FBI Field Office

Norfolk, Virginia

December 22, 1998

Mulder was tense, feeling like he was crawling out of his skin. A churning storm of emotions was raging in him. The same anger and felt the first time Scully was taken from him. Scully being in danger. His partner is in danger. His soulmate needing him. They had not crossed a century and a half to lose each once again at the hands of some madman. No. No. No. But no one would let near the task force. He was too wild, too much of a risk. ASAC Benson tried to calm Mulder and failed miserably so now they just tolerated his presence as he stalked around the field office like some caged animal ready to strike. No one was doing anything useful anyway.

Ah, fuck. Think, Mulder, think!

His mind raked through memories, years and years of memory from the 19th and 20th centuries, all of which he had lived. He suddenly remembered her blue eyes shining in the lamplight, the blue rosary...the barracks. Porst moth. The navy yard. It was a long shot but the profiler side of his brain knew where it was.

Mulder had left the crime scene quickly, opting to go start to the field office then back to the hotel room. He was dressed in jeans, a black tee shirt, and his leather jacket. All he could do was remember his phone, badge, and gun. He padded his pocket, trying to remember where he stuck his phone he felt something else. He reached into the pocket and felt the rough texture of the yellow envelope that he knew the rings were in. Discreetly he dropped the heavy, worn silver rings into his hand. The cool metal was heavy and comforting in his palm. His memories were wisps caught in the wind as he heard her laughter and their wedding kiss. He placed the larger of the two bands on his ring finger, feeling a small little piece restored to him.

Hold on, Scully, he thought grimly, hold on.

. . . .

A flashback. A memory.

“Being pregnant becomes you, Scully.”

“Are you saying I look good fat, Mulder?”

“I just want to have a lot of babies with my beautiful wife.” He kissed her softly, his lips lingering on her shoulder. “I love you.”

She chuckled. “Three years,” she whispered lovingly, “ and I wouldn’t change a thing. Nothing, Mulder. I love you too.”

. . . .

Mulder knew where Scully was, he was sure of it, but the question was how to convince everyone else. Quietly he pocketed the silver rings, padding the pocket of his jeans to make sure he knew they were still there. The beauty of new memories he mused. Buckley had been playing with them the entire time, he was certain.The bodies and lastly, the location. Discreetly he walked to a large map sitting on the wall to the surrounding area of Hampton Roads. His finger traced from Lambert’s Point in Norfolk and south down the Elizabeth River, his mind’s eye recalling the 19th century map he remembered seeing when he was stationed on the CSS Virginia, finally stopping in between the South Norfolk and Portsmouth, and to the left of his index finger was a small print of Norfolk Naval Shipyard, which, once upon time, was the Gosport Navy Yard. Back to where it would all begin.

Mulder’s mind was already working overtime. A navy yard would be perfect. Warehouses, those empty shipping containers, construction areas, ships being outfitted...it was all the perfect place to hide but how to pursue it? What to do? He had nothing else to go on other than his gut instinct. There had been very little clues to Buckley’s actual whereabouts. But, he had nothing else to go on. Scully did not have time.

“Sir,” Mulder called, “have you considered the shipyards?” ASAC Benson wearily looked up at Mulder standing by the map as his finger incessantly on the map. “In Portsmouth?”

“He’s not there, Mulder,” Benson recalled. “All the evidence we have points to the peninsula. We might check Newport News Shipbuilding but finding Agent Scully is like trying to find a needle in a haystack.” Mulder grew visibly angry and he held up his hand. “Want don’t go back to your hotel and try and get some sleep, Mulder. There is nothing you can do.”

Mulder’s shoulders crumpled in frustration and he grew silent. Diana noticed Mulder and came to his side in a weak attempt at comfort. “I’ll walk you to your car, Fox,” she said gently, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Come on, I’ll drive you back.”

He jerked his shoulder away as if her touch had burned him. “Get away from me,” he seethed. “I’ll take care of this myself.”

“Fox,” Diana called weakly.

“Agent Fowley, let him go,” Benson said. He sighed, watching the angry profiler stalk off. “Let him go. I need your attention elsewhere. Have you ever had something to your partner? It’s the most devasting thing in the world. Let the man go.”

Diana’s bird like face scrunched in frustration. If only he cared about her like that, like he used to. She had hoped that her plan would bring them back together like it was meant to be, and Agent Scully would only be shaken up, but her plan was crumbling before her eyes.

“Agent Fowley,” Benson barked. “Attention here! I need you to start coordinating with the local PD.”

Diana sighed curtly and cast her attention back to her work detail.

. . . .

Unknown Location

December 22, 1998

Scully had no clue what time it was but it probably been hours. During this time, she had inspected every inch of her concrete cell and could not find a single weakness. But during her captivity, Buckley left her alone physically but she kept hearing him on the other side of the heavy door. So far, he seemed on keeping her safe and trying to draw Mulder out.

“How did you find me, Franklin?” she asked, eyeing the corner of the cot.

“I’d help, Dana. Someone who’d you least suspect.”

“Help?”

“I don’t know her name but she came shortly after you and the Lieutenant arrested me.”

. . . .

Here I am, spilling my life story to my wife. Again. Honestly. Whatever keeps her happy for the time being. If only she would shut up.

. . . .

“You said she, Franklin.” Scully’s mind was racing. No. Who else could it have been? She heard him moan something in a low voice. “Did someone help you escape?”

“Stop it, Dana. I only ever had eyes for you.”

“I know that.” She knew when she was onto something; Scully would have picked up something about profiling after hanging around Mulder for so long. “Just tell me, Franklin,” she encouraged. “I’m not upset with you.”

“I know what you are trying to do. It won’t work.”

“Franklin,” she begged, trying to sound convincing.

“This life we are meant to be,” he began. “There was a woman who came to visit me, right after my trail. She said she could help me, knew the Lieutenant and you, Dana.” He chuckled. “Our personal little matchmaker.”

“A woman?”

“I don’t know who she was except a first name. Diana. The goddess of the moon helped  us find our way through the darkness.” Diana. Could it be the same one? Special Agent Diana Fowley of the FBI? Could it? How? In her heart, she knew it was true but that did not explain how. “But that doesn’t matter anymore, Dana. We have a life together. We can have a family. I’m younger this time around.” He chuckled. “A bit more handsome. I had some help on that one back in the 1920s. Made a deal with the devil. But you, my dear, must have been blessed by an angel because you’re just as beautiful as the first day I saw you when I asked your father for your hand.”

She felt herself grimace and shudder in memory. God, how old he had been.

“I remember,” she muttered grimly.

The door opened slightly and a tray of scrambled eggs and red solo cup with red wine. “It isn’t the Ritz but so we’ll have the Riviera. I love you, my darling wife.”

Scully can't bring herself to answer as her hand went to her cross and she silently began to recite the Lord’s prayer wordlessly in Latin to herself, praying Mulder would come and soon.

[gordonwilliamsweb]

Durango’s Covid ‘Cowboy’ Rounds Up Spring Break Scofflaws, Lines ’Em Up for Shots

Bartenders were pouring Old-Fashioneds at a bar with a bullet hole straight through the wood. Servers in corsets and fishnet stockings roamed the room, passing an old piano that, twice a week, fills the building with ragtime tunes.

This story also ran on U.S. News & World Report. It can be republished for free.

It was a Friday evening at the Diamond Belle Saloon on the main drag in Durango, Colorado. Outside, a man in boots, a cowboy hat and a button-down vest adorned with a U.S. marshal badge patrolled the block, eyes scanning the streets for trouble. If trouble were to appear, it would likely take the form of errant Texans.

“You can’t throw a stone around here without hitting a Texan,” recalled Scott Perez, the man in the marshal get-up.

This was the Wild West, after all: spring break 2021. And leaders of this city of about 19,000 are eager to hold covid-19 at bay with a bit of old-time law and order on mask mandates — and even a little modern vaccine science.

Perez is very familiar with this block, having staged his death several times outside the saloon during summertime gunfight performances. The former cowboy and current actor, stuntman and history buff also pretended to rob the steam train that takes tourists to the former mining town of Silverton. Now, a consortium that includes local businesses and the tourism office has hired him and a few other actors for a very specific task: to get people to obey the city’s mandate to wear their dang masks.

Early in the pandemic, some mountain towns and counties shut out visitors. These days, they’re welcoming tourists with open arms — and, in some cases, a shot in the arm.

The health department that serves Durango’s La Plata County is among those offering covid vaccines to outsiders. In neighboring San Juan County, where the sheriff was threatening to fine and tow cars with out-of-county license plates a year ago, officials are now telling visitors, “If you’re here and with us now, let’s get you vaccinated if you’re eligible,” county spokesperson DeAnne Gallegos said. Andrew Sandstrom, a spokesperson for the Gunnison County covid response, said his county is doing the same but officials are just asking that visitors receive both doses in the same place.

Liane Jollon, executive director of the health department that spans La Plata and Archuleta counties, said more than 30% of residents have gotten at least one vaccine dose, putting the counties ahead of the curve. They aren’t advertising their vaccine supply as a lure for tourists, but as long as visitors fit Colorado’s vaccine eligibility criteria, Jollon said, they aren’t turning anyone away.

The state told vaccine providers not to ask for IDs or proof of residency, to avoid creating barriers for immigrants or homeless people, said Brian Spencer, with the Colorado State Joint Information Center. By extension, though, that means spring break tourists or second-home visitors also can partake.

“While it can feel like a difficult burden to vaccinate more individuals in your jurisdiction, it also helps keep our entire community safe,” Jollon said. “We’ve had people drive up for the day from New Mexico to get a vaccine.”

Typically this time of year, visitors come in spring break waves from Texas, Oklahoma, New Mexico and Arizona. Oklahoma’s governor has refused to impose a statewide mask mandate, and the governor of Texas lifted that state’s mandate and fully reopened businesses shortly before spring break tourists began arriving in Colorado.

In La Plata County, cellphone data analyzed by the health department shows that, from the first week of March to the third, mobile devices belonging to nonresidents shot from 15% of the total to 40%, with most coming from Texas and Oklahoma.

Some of the influx started even earlier. Gunnison County, which banned visitors during last year’s spring break, has seen tourism more than rebound in the past few months. It had a jump of at least 30% in tax revenue from short-term lodging in December and January compared with the same months before the pandemic.

Coloradans fear what the visitors may leave behind.

“In many of our mountain towns, we’re starting to see a new uptick,” said Jollon. “We’re really concerned that after spring break we could see an uptick that would hurt our schools’ ability to continue to offer in-person learning options.”

Around this time 102 years ago, Durango was closing its schools and opening an emergency hospital — again — to deal with a resurgence of the 1918 flu pandemic. People were fumigating their houses with formaldehyde, and kids were jumping rope to the song “I had a little bird. Its name was Enza. I opened the window, and in-flu-Enza.”

“It was definitely bad here,” said Perez. “They had bodies stacked up, particularly the ones that died in the winter because they couldn’t dig to bury them. They couldn’t find the mortician. He was laying amongst the bodies because he died. … A lot of the ladies of the evening became nurses.”

So this time, the community wants to prevent a resurgence, but also keep the tourism dollars flowing.

Durango, which usually attracts an estimated 1.5 million visitors each year with its brick buildings, steam train and bluffs crumbling into the Animas River, initially planned to hire a private security firm to persuade out-of-towners to don masks. That’s what the town of Breckenridge did. But then Rachel Brown, executive director of Visit Durango, jokingly proposed Old West actors instead.

“I have been told that the fun and theatrical approach of the Mask Marshal program is being very well received,” Brown said. “We are glad that we chose this option over private security.”

The need for mask police puzzles Perez. “I can’t figure it out at all,” he said. “I mean, there’s so much evidence about how this helps and yet somehow it became political.”

His right-hand woman in mask compliance is Cathy Roberts, a fellow reenactor, plus an animal advocate and military veteran. She wears a red-and-black cancan dress and goes by “Miss Kitty,” after the saloon owner in the TV and radio series “Gunsmoke.”

“She can disarm anybody with charm,” said Perez. “The goal is that I disarm them with some humor.” But he’s also clear they have a second option if things go sour: a direct line to the Durango Police Department.

“And the third option is not pretty,” said Perez. To be clear, the only heat he’s packing is two rounds of Pfizer.

As the pair entered the saloon Friday night, Roberts recounted, a waitress gave her what she calls “the look.”

“That’s all they gotta do,” said Roberts, who quickly spotted the problem by the door: four people who clearly were not familiar with Durango’s mask rules. People are required to wear masks indoors, even in a bar or restaurant, unless they’re seated and eating or drinking. The women had on masks, but their noses weren’t covered. The men didn’t have masks at all.

Roberts walked up cheerfully in her red dress, greeted them, welcomed them to Durango, and offered masks that said “I [heart] Durango.” One man accepted it, she said, and put it on. The other sulked, zipping his coat up over his mouth. “I’m like, ‘Sorry, sir, it’s not over your nose,’ and he pulled it up even higher,” she recalled.

Perez hung back behind her, silent beneath his bandanna and white mustache. Technically speaking, all noses had been covered, so the pair moved on.

“Mask compliance actually is really, really high,” said Perez. “There’s a lot of people wearing masks even out on the sidewalks, where they don’t have to.”

The past few weekends, he’s mostly found himself greeting people, welcoming them to Durango, chatting about local history and then slipping in the rules about masks.

“And 99.9% of the time, that’s well received,” he said, even among the Texans, who may also go home vaccinated.

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.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

Durango’s Covid ‘Cowboy’ Rounds Up Spring Break Scofflaws, Lines ’Em Up for Shots published first on https://nootropicspowdersupplier.tumblr.com/

[stephenmccull]

Durango’s Covid ‘Cowboy’ Rounds Up Spring Break Scofflaws, Lines ’Em Up for Shots

Bartenders were pouring Old-Fashioneds at a bar with a bullet hole straight through the wood. Servers in corsets and fishnet stockings roamed the room, passing an old piano that, twice a week, fills the building with ragtime tunes.

This story also ran on U.S. News & World Report. It can be republished for free.

It was a Friday evening at the Diamond Belle Saloon on the main drag in Durango, Colorado. Outside, a man in boots, a cowboy hat and a button-down vest adorned with a U.S. marshal badge patrolled the block, eyes scanning the streets for trouble. If trouble were to appear, it would likely take the form of errant Texans.

“You can’t throw a stone around here without hitting a Texan,” recalled Scott Perez, the man in the marshal get-up.

This was the Wild West, after all: spring break 2021. And leaders of this city of about 19,000 are eager to hold covid-19 at bay with a bit of old-time law and order on mask mandates — and even a little modern vaccine science.

Perez is very familiar with this block, having staged his death several times outside the saloon during summertime gunfight performances. The former cowboy and current actor, stuntman and history buff also pretended to rob the steam train that takes tourists to the former mining town of Silverton. Now, a consortium that includes local businesses and the tourism office has hired him and a few other actors for a very specific task: to get people to obey the city’s mandate to wear their dang masks.

Early in the pandemic, some mountain towns and counties shut out visitors. These days, they’re welcoming tourists with open arms — and, in some cases, a shot in the arm.

The health department that serves Durango’s La Plata County is among those offering covid vaccines to outsiders. In neighboring San Juan County, where the sheriff was threatening to fine and tow cars with out-of-county license plates a year ago, officials are now telling visitors, “If you’re here and with us now, let’s get you vaccinated if you’re eligible,” county spokesperson DeAnne Gallegos said. Andrew Sandstrom, a spokesperson for the Gunnison County covid response, said his county is doing the same but officials are just asking that visitors receive both doses in the same place.

Liane Jollon, executive director of the health department that spans La Plata and Archuleta counties, said more than 30% of residents have gotten at least one vaccine dose, putting the counties ahead of the curve. They aren’t advertising their vaccine supply as a lure for tourists, but as long as visitors fit Colorado’s vaccine eligibility criteria, Jollon said, they aren’t turning anyone away.

The state told vaccine providers not to ask for IDs or proof of residency, to avoid creating barriers for immigrants or homeless people, said Brian Spencer, with the Colorado State Joint Information Center. By extension, though, that means spring break tourists or second-home visitors also can partake.

“While it can feel like a difficult burden to vaccinate more individuals in your jurisdiction, it also helps keep our entire community safe,” Jollon said. “We’ve had people drive up for the day from New Mexico to get a vaccine.”

Typically this time of year, visitors come in spring break waves from Texas, Oklahoma, New Mexico and Arizona. Oklahoma’s governor has refused to impose a statewide mask mandate, and the governor of Texas lifted that state’s mandate and fully reopened businesses shortly before spring break tourists began arriving in Colorado.

In La Plata County, cellphone data analyzed by the health department shows that, from the first week of March to the third, mobile devices belonging to nonresidents shot from 15% of the total to 40%, with most coming from Texas and Oklahoma.

Some of the influx started even earlier. Gunnison County, which banned visitors during last year’s spring break, has seen tourism more than rebound in the past few months. It had a jump of at least 30% in tax revenue from short-term lodging in December and January compared with the same months before the pandemic.

Coloradans fear what the visitors may leave behind.

“In many of our mountain towns, we’re starting to see a new uptick,” said Jollon. “We’re really concerned that after spring break we could see an uptick that would hurt our schools’ ability to continue to offer in-person learning options.”

Around this time 102 years ago, Durango was closing its schools and opening an emergency hospital — again — to deal with a resurgence of the 1918 flu pandemic. People were fumigating their houses with formaldehyde, and kids were jumping rope to the song “I had a little bird. Its name was Enza. I opened the window, and in-flu-Enza.”

“It was definitely bad here,” said Perez. “They had bodies stacked up, particularly the ones that died in the winter because they couldn’t dig to bury them. They couldn’t find the mortician. He was laying amongst the bodies because he died. … A lot of the ladies of the evening became nurses.”

So this time, the community wants to prevent a resurgence, but also keep the tourism dollars flowing.

Durango, which usually attracts an estimated 1.5 million visitors each year with its brick buildings, steam train and bluffs crumbling into the Animas River, initially planned to hire a private security firm to persuade out-of-towners to don masks. That’s what the town of Breckenridge did. But then Rachel Brown, executive director of Visit Durango, jokingly proposed Old West actors instead.

“I have been told that the fun and theatrical approach of the Mask Marshal program is being very well received,” Brown said. “We are glad that we chose this option over private security.”

The need for mask police puzzles Perez. “I can’t figure it out at all,” he said. “I mean, there’s so much evidence about how this helps and yet somehow it became political.”

His right-hand woman in mask compliance is Cathy Roberts, a fellow reenactor, plus an animal advocate and military veteran. She wears a red-and-black cancan dress and goes by “Miss Kitty,” after the saloon owner in the TV and radio series “Gunsmoke.”

“She can disarm anybody with charm,” said Perez. “The goal is that I disarm them with some humor.” But he’s also clear they have a second option if things go sour: a direct line to the Durango Police Department.

“And the third option is not pretty,” said Perez. To be clear, the only heat he’s packing is two rounds of Pfizer.

As the pair entered the saloon Friday night, Roberts recounted, a waitress gave her what she calls “the look.”

“That’s all they gotta do,” said Roberts, who quickly spotted the problem by the door: four people who clearly were not familiar with Durango’s mask rules. People are required to wear masks indoors, even in a bar or restaurant, unless they’re seated and eating or drinking. The women had on masks, but their noses weren’t covered. The men didn’t have masks at all.

Roberts walked up cheerfully in her red dress, greeted them, welcomed them to Durango, and offered masks that said “I [heart] Durango.” One man accepted it, she said, and put it on. The other sulked, zipping his coat up over his mouth. “I’m like, ‘Sorry, sir, it’s not over your nose,’ and he pulled it up even higher,” she recalled.

Perez hung back behind her, silent beneath his bandanna and white mustache. Technically speaking, all noses had been covered, so the pair moved on.

“Mask compliance actually is really, really high,” said Perez. “There’s a lot of people wearing masks even out on the sidewalks, where they don’t have to.”

The past few weekends, he’s mostly found himself greeting people, welcoming them to Durango, chatting about local history and then slipping in the rules about masks.

“And 99.9% of the time, that’s well received,” he said, even among the Texans, who may also go home vaccinated.

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.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

Durango’s Covid ‘Cowboy’ Rounds Up Spring Break Scofflaws, Lines ’Em Up for Shots published first on https://smartdrinkingweb.weebly.com/

[stone-man-warrior]

March 24, 2021: 5:43 pm:

=================================================

I am past six weeks after having been attacked by a terror soldier who injected me with some kind of poison in my lower leg. There are no doctors who treat US Citizens, so I am left without medical care, have to deal with all of the injuries I get all on my own having learned the hard way about the terror takeover of the hospitals, urgent care offices, and all of the physicians offices in Oregon.

There is no where to get medical treatment, so, I have been documenting the healing, or lack thereof, as time progresses.

Oddly, no one has offered any help online either.

The foot is staying blue, is cold, I have to keep a heater of some kind on my foot all of the time, otherwise the intense cold feeling is more than I can bear. My hands are also cold much of the time, as if ice is inside my blood vessels.

The poison was injected on top of, and in addition to, a different condition, of different symptoms, of long term exposure to poisons I have been subject to from Monroe terror cell, who flaunt the “A-1 Exterminators Pest Control” van that is usually parked in their driveway on weekends and in the evenings. That van is the source of the original poison symptoms. The attack with a syringe killed the other symptoms, and these symptoms I have been showing, replaced the other symptoms, which mostly was overwhelming desire to scratch the itchy places on my right leg. Those symptoms are gone, and these other, super painful conditions that prevent me from walking very far at all, or even standing, took over.

That sore above my heal there started out as a tiny red dot.

All of these big sores all started out as tiny red dots.

Over time, they began to grow deeper, wider, more painful, and are finally healing slowly. That redness, I suspect, is the poison that was injected is still there saturated into the leg tissue.

My main complaint over all others is that my toes hurt so bad, so does the bottom of my foot, is all extreme pain. The toes and bottom of my foot are numb, but painful, and ice cold. Even when my foot is by the heater, and feels warm to touch it with my hand, the icy feeling within remains persistent.

There is a small red spot there on the left side of my shin, above the letter l. That small sore started yesterday. I suspect that one will increase in size and depth as the others did. What is different about that one, is that spot did not start as a puncture as all of the others did. We’ll see what happens to that one as the days progress.

I want to emphasis that there was no visible healing happening until I discontinued using Equate brand Antibiotic and Pain Reliever Ointment, the Walmart generic version of neo-sporin. It’s notable that when I went to the Walmart to get some neo-sporin ointment, there was none available on the shelf, but there was ample supplies of the Equate generic brand.

Often, at the Walmart, they remove from the shelves the things I need. There was a time when there was no Hydrogen Peroxide available, but there was plenty of rubbing alcohol on the shelf. The Walmart removes the products intentionally, not just the pharmacy items, but the food items and electronics are purged from the shelf. There is a camera on display at Walmart, a Canon brand, it’s been on display for about five years, every once in a while I go see if I can buy the camera, they only have about six or eight to choose from these days, and I want the one that does not have Blu-tooth built in, but, for five years, that camera is never there, and they won‘t sell me the display model. Instead, the salesperson directs me to a similar Canon Camera, one that has Blu-tooth built in, and there are plenty of those available.

Blu-tooth is bad news. You should avoid Blu-tooth products as if your life depends on it.

There are no US national security, no one is watching the baby, and the baby is on fire.

I  used to have family that was a doctor.

now, my family is all dead, or are held in captivity, so are all of the friends I had. Everyone was killed by the terror army or taken captive as slaves.

Please send medical services to Josephine county Oregon.

=============================================

8:49 pm:

Observation: As I have been posting the effects of the poison attack, the different kinds of symptoms I am having, I am seeing that there are news stories presented on Twitter that are mimicking the symptoms I am telling about. What I am seeing, is that when I say I have numbness and pain, that somehow entices the SAG terror Twitter news media to claim something like:

“COVID Long Haulers are experiencing long lasting symptoms far beyond having been cured of the debilitating disease with complaints that range from numbness of the extremities, to feelings of coldness, and persistent limb pain”

I have seen that happen a number of times within an hour or two of my explanation of poison attack symptoms over the past ten days of so.

What we are witnessing is a “make it up as you go” COVID world in the media. There is no virus, so, since there is no real disease, the ailments have to be invented somehow, or, the symptoms need to stay unreported as it was for the first year. During the entire first year, and especially up to about summer time of 2020, the only ailment that was reported was death, and a lot of it. We were barraged with endless fear about this horrible disease that was killing so many people that all of the whole world had to stop turning, all we were told is: “There is not enough ventilators” and “We are having emergency shortages of respirators” and “People are dropping dead by the thousands because of the Corona Virus”.

Absolutely no reports of the symptoms were told by news media, but today, you can find stories about “COVID Long Haulers are having long lasting symptoms far after recovery”.

Before, we were seeing work crews digging long trenches with coffins lined up ready to be buried.

We were shown people on special guernies, completely hermetically sealed inside of plastic bubbles being wheeled onto airplanes by so called medical professionals all dressed in full blown HASMAT Chemical Warfare Protective Gear to transport them to a hospital.

now, we are seeing a situation where there is a “Vaccine”, many different kinds of so called vaccines. They all seem to have a limited shelf life and expire after a short time, so, we are told that passers by on the freeway were provided with the life saving COVID Vaccine because there was a traffic jam and the vaccines were going to expire, so, rather than let them go to waste, people on the freeway were graciously vaccinated with the life saving drug before it went bad.

You have to keep in mind that it’s not lawful for a restaurant to give away food that will expire, or has past expiration date, Fast food restaurants don‘t give the extra food away at the end of the day. Grocery stores can not hand out the produce when it is a little bruised, and won’t sell.

But hey, that vaccine, a controlled substance, is a hand out on a Oregon back country road in a snow blizzard because it might go bad, and expire, so, they go ahead and inoculate strangers in the forest while they wait for the fucking snow plow to clear the road. They film the event, put it on the news as “Heart warming saga” and the asshole terror murderers in the news media professions all become heroes somehow, because the people are too fucking gullible and are being exterminated as part of the six o’clock news.

“Just come on down to the vaccination event we are having at the stadium, we are planning on killing somewhere around 25.000 citizens today, so, don’t miss out on your chance to be murdered today, But don‘t worry, we will be at the stadium all week starting at ten am, so, there is no rush.

“And in other news: We are looking for some emergency volunteers who have chipper/shredders and Yard Maintenance skills that they can use to help clear debris from the Bear Creek Causeway, next to the stadium this week”.

“COVID Long Haulers are reporting symptoms ranging from numbness and pain of the extremities, to poor circulation“ or close to that, is a real story today,

Our governments were hijacked by treasonous murderers, globally, over the past fifty years, and no one has noticed.

Every day we are shown that some Hollywood asshole “was diagnosed with COVID and is going to self isolate for two weeks”, so, later, it’s always a healthy looking person, with a smile, saying “Yeah, it was one of the hardest things I ever done, it was horrible, but my family helped me through it” as the persons are always looking like they gained fifty pounds, a tan, and a new puppy.

Look at Boris Johnson, the son of bitch gained weight while sick with an ailment that is said to have killed millions of people, but Boris got fat, and was back at work after a two week holiday that was cut short because... because he got fat.

Gullible and naive.

It’s been more than a year, and still no one is fighting back, Twitter is still tweeting, and the mass murdering continues, but now they kill with the vaccine, and everyone is falling for the bullshit, partly because “Twitter” is a cute name for a social media website.

Today, the Joe Biden Brigade rolled out the eventual “Open Carry is a Crime” narrative.

If you thought the pressure associated with wearing a Corona Mask was harsh when you don‘t want to wear the fucking mask, wait until you get a load of the Open Carry Pressure Campaign that was rolled out today. The terror bastards do not want any competition, so, what do you think fake politicians wielding real law will do in order to get their way? After fifty years of careful planing and success along the way, the shills are going to wield those laws as if the law itself is a weapon of mass destruction. At this point in the global takeover with fifty years invested in the actual takeover, and many decades more in planning it, they indeed will be feeling “Too Big To Fail” among their inner circles.

“Open Carry is a Crime” campaign began today, the beginning of more momentum in that direction is happening now.

The nitrous gas they use is volatile, a small flame will clear the air so you can breathe and think clearly. Only those who carry and release the gas will be offended when you use a lighter to clear the air.

Think of this: The British are the top leaders of this terror take over, they command SAG, and SAG commands the terror army. With that in mind, and with the knowledge that they are fooling everyone with a fake Biblical sized plague, know that Boris Johnson said this week that “The UK is a scientific superpower”. The virus, if there were one, would be composed of germs, hence the mask mandate excuse, so, scientific superpower of the UK cannot figure out that a small flame will clear the air of germs?

They don’t want you to use a lighter either, so that “Open Carry is a Crime” campaign is going to include anyone seen using a Bic Lighter, there will be “Drop Specialists” to make sure that if a lighter is seen, then a gun will appear, and the frame work will be done to disappear the people who want to protect themselves from exposure to poison gasses, and being killed.

They will eventually eliminate their own terror army.

The plan is to reset the global population to 500,000 select people world wide. Trust me, that is the plan. They are rolling out the next phase now.

=====

10:36 pm:

There was a news story put into circulation this past week that suggests there are some special people somewhere, and those special persons have made it a public statement presented in network news that there are plans to build out what the said was a “noah’s Ark” of sorts, on the moon. The so called Ark is to house the genes of all animal and plant life that exists on Earth. Basically that is the story, you can find it on your own. The thing that gets my attention about that story is why was it considered so important that it should  be shared in the mainstream news media, for something that would be decades out into the future just to get started on it. That kind of thought crosses my mind all the time when I read the news, “Why is this a news story?” and “Who does this news story serve most?” and “What could possibly be the real underlying message to this story that seems to have very little if any socially redeeming quality?” ... I can‘t help but find that so many news stories simply do not need to be told to millions of people, as they don’t offer anything of value that we can use to help make our lives more pleasant, or easier in some way.

I say the Moon Unit Ark story is a “Go” order from “On-High” to begin the final elimination phase of Corona Virus global terror take over. Things have gotten even more weird than they already were, after that story was first presented. I further suggest that the story today about “Children in school can reduce distance to three feet” is another part of that same terror order to begin the next phase of the global reduction of populations.

It’s going to get increasingly more difficult to survive, and won’t return to the way things were say, in 1999. They certainly won’t return to 1969 life quality, which by comparison to today, was real nice, lots of freedom in USA in 1969, and almost no fear of any harm coming to us, in 1969.

By 1989, think about it, did 1989 offer a feeling of safety, well-being, or freedom?

What will be the reality on earth in 2029?

It looks bleak to me.

===============

11:06 pm:

I have been trying to report terrorism for so long I don’t know exactly when I realized that when I made a crime report, the report was more than crime, then reports of corruption I learned of, when did I realize it was not corruption that I was reporting to authorities? I don‘t know. At some point after 2001, when I saw people being thrown into a blender and turned into liquid at the Walmart, that is for sure when the reporting I still do, became reports of organized terrorism. I saw fourth graders pushed off of a cliff at Table Rock in Medford Oregon on a field trip from school in around 1998, but even then, I had not realized the report I made about it should have been as a terror event, not the murder of fourth grade elementary students.

Since the time I first started reporting crime, murder, corruption, mass murder, then terrorism, I have been targeted for take out ever since.

My family was destroyed, my sister killed in hospital, I watched as they put my brother into that giant blender at a time that I had been told he was already dead, and went to his funeral, only to see that he was in the trunk of a car, where his captors had put him as they waited for a time when I would see them put my brother into the chipper/shredder, alive and screaming in horror.

My children are dead or held captive.

My father was murdered and they stole his estate from me.

I was shot in the face, lost all my teeth as a result.

I have had glass dust shards thrown into my eyes many times, it’s very painful, and when the shards come loose after a week, they get lodged again while you try to rub them out of your eyes.

I get attacked in my home at least once a week.

All of the residences around my home are occupied by the same terror cell now, they prey on me daily. I cannot go outdoors for more than few minutes without being attacked.

They bring African Lions, and release the Lions when I try to take a walk, I have fought with and killed many African Lions while armed only with a small folding knife.

The terror neighbors shoot cross-bow arrows at me regularly from Monroe’s while I walk on my own driveway.

I have been shot hundreds of times with the small custom .25 guns they all seem to have.

I was run over by a Chevrolet Silverado in 2012, and suffer from a spinal cord injury, and, I was a disabled man at the time, since 1994 or so for spinal conditions.

That, and more, I have endured.

now, I am suffering from an attack with poison injection, and am unable to walk very far, cannot reach my own mailbox at this time. Healing is slow to non-existent.

I keep saying what I know, I keep begging for help.

I try to help others, so that they will help me.

no one will help.

Only assassins come in return for my cries for help.

Please study this account, this account is the reason so many attempts to kill me are happening, but it’s not the first account of terror explanations, the bastards have deleted others. This one is the current one, in it, are secrets of terrorism that many of the terror soldiers themselves are not aware of, there are leadership secrets in this account.

Please study it and learn, then devise a plan to conquer the terror take over of USA, and by extension, preserve freedom all over the world.

There is enough information in this account to stop 90% of all the terrorism on earth, forever, if the information were to be used to counter the terrorism.

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #462

Top Ten Things That Hopefully Will Actually Happen in 2021

I mean, it’s got to be better than last year, hasn’t it? Just on law of averages. I know it’s not really the greatest start. Everything’s shut again but it’s colder now. We’ve not got a handle on this thing. The idiots are still in charge. But I still feel cautiously optimistic. There is a vaccine now, at least. Trump is gone, barring some cataclysmic last-minute kerfuffle. A new lockdown is required, so hopefully however painful it is right now it’ll be the death throws of this wretched virus. Will 2021 look like 2019? No, not a chance. But maybe by summer, by autumn, we’ll be well over the hill. 2022, hopefully, will be great.

Not that I’m writing off the new year altogether! No siree. I think this is the year we turn the corner and see the road before us. I think this year can be good, and I think that – outside of pandemic and politics – there is quite a lot to look forward to.

I’m not right now talking about personal ambitions or wider, geopolitical hopes and dreams. This is all about stuff that I want to see or play or whatever. Things that don’t really have any bearing on if the world keeps spinning or we all make it through another tumultuous twelvemonth relatively unscathed. Just, y’know, stuff that’d be nice.

Cinematic Superheroes: 2020 was a bonkers year, and one of the things that was bonkers as it unfolded was how all these huge movies kept getting pushed back. As a result, there were precisely no Marvel Cinematic Universe productions released. Like, at all. Thankfully – hopefully – that will change in 2021. As well as some Disney+ stuff (see below) there’ll also be the belated release of Wonder Woman 1984, which came out around Christmas but which I’ll probably stream this month; and, lockdown permitting, we should finally see the likes of Black Widow, The Eternals, and things that were already scheduled for ’21 such as DC’s The Batman and The Suicide Squad. And y’know what? I’m even looking forward to Zack Snyder’s Justice League. Yeah, maybe some more will slip, but I’m just glad that we’re finally getting some men in tights back in our lives.

Plus all these Great Shows: just before Christmas Disney outlined its slate of upcoming releases and by Crikey it was mega. And the best part is, so many of these shows and films are imminent! In a couple of weeks WandaVision will hit Disney+, and later this year we’ll also see (I do believe) The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, maybe Loki, The Book of Boba Fett, and maaaaaybe if we’re lucky Obi-Wan Kenobi. Even outside of the other movies and things that they announced, and even if we don’t look as far ahead as 2022, Disney+ has a hell of a lineup for this year, and even if lockdown closes the cinemas, we can still enjoy a nice good stream.

Starred Up: the arrival of Star, the “grown-up” channel on Disney+, was confirmed (and confirmed to be included in the existing sub, which was nice), and recently it was announced that it will go live on February 23rd. For some reason I was expecting it later, so that’s nice. It’ll be good to see some of the smuttier Marvel movies make their return (especially Fox’s X-masterpiece, Logan), but I’m more looking forward to having all the Die Hards and Aliens in one place. Even the crap ones.

Finally, Halo Infinite: I really like Halo; it’s pretty much the reason I ever bought a console in the first place. So I was incredibly excited for Halo Infinite, and – I must confess – a bit disappointed by its reveal. A delay is fine; take your time, do a good job, try to avoid crunch. I’ve got more than enough to play. But with my pretty new Series X installed next to my shiny new 4K TV, I’d love to get into a proper new Master Chief adventure once again. And finally it’ll happen! My Big Christmas Game for 2021 is sorted.

Return of the (Lego) Jedi: speaking of Big Games for 2021… I love the Lego games from Traveller’s Tales, and it all started with Lego Star Wars. With the release of The Rise of Skywalker in 2019, I kind of assumed they’d be making a new one, and they are: The Skywalker Saga. Much delayed (I think it was meant to come out last summer originally?), but finally making its debut at some point in 2021, it promises to be a more expansive effort than any previous Lego game, and also offers a fresh look at every film in the increasingly-inaccurately-named trilogy. My youngest is really getting into Star Wars and she loves the Lego games, so this is something we can really enjoy together.

2020’s Greatest Hits: yeah, lots of great things coming out in 2021, but I gotta say one thing I’m really looking forward to is catching up on all of the things that were supposed to come out in 2020. I’ve already mentioned the likes of Black Widow, but there’s Coming 2 America (on Prime Video in March), Dune (potentially still hitting cinemas), No Time to Die (God knows), Spielberg’s West Side Story (delayed a whole year!)… even smaller-scale things like the cool-looking Freaky have been pushed right back. And whilst I’m not exactly looking forward to it, pity poor Peter Rabbit 2, knocked from an early Easter slot when the first lockdown hit, only to have its February half-term run destroyed by Lockdown III. Maybe next year, eh, Peter?

Matrix of Leadership: The Matrix turns 22 this year, shockingly enough, and last time I watched it was still absolutely brilliant in one of those hardly-ever-happens ways. The sequels I could live without, although I’ll warrant they’re still stylish with nice action, but they were a huge disappointment (moreso for me than the often-lambasted Star Wars prequels). However, I am super excited for Lana Wachowski returning to direct a fourth Matrix movie. I don’t know why, but I just think it’ll be great; there’s twenty years’ worth of “internet stuff” and “games stuff” and “comics stuff” she can use as reference or in-joke, and let’s face it, Keanu Reeves has never kicked as much ass in his life as he does in the John Wick movies, so we don’t need to worry about that. What the hell will it be about? How can you make a sequel to what felt like a pretty definitive ending? I mean, half the characters died (spoiler!). But I don’t care about that, I just want to see it (hopefully at a cinema).

One (Other) Ring to Rule Them All: I ended up spending quite a bit of time in Middle-Earth in 2020, including reading The Hobbit to my girls, Unfinished Tales, and Ian Nathan’s book about the making of Peter Jackson’s trilogy, Anything You Can Imagine. So I am, shall we say, primed for Amazon’s new TV adaptation of J.R.R. Tolkien’s opus. The Lord of the Rings series – as I think it might still be called? – will be set a lot earlier than the more famous stories, and although there are a lot of potential hiccups and hurdles in the way, I hope the less-familiar period and setting will offer scope for a series to make its own unexpected journey, showing even those that have read The Silmarillion something they’ve not seen before. I hope they don’t try to make it into Game of Thrones, and I hope they don’t try to shoehorn in too many aspects of The Lord of the Rings (I mean, hobbits shouldn’t really feature too much into it, surely?), but the pedigree is strong and I’m very excited.

Sinful: Russell T. Davies’ last show, Years and Years, was a fascinating combination of terrifying apocalyptic sci-fi and domestic soap opera, and one of the best things that happened in 2019. His next show, It’s a Sin, is about something altogether more real but still apocalyptic: the AIDS crisis in the gay community of the 1980s. I imagine he’ll still be expertly combining soapy drama with casual gaggery and moments of utter heartbreak. Apparently this is a story very close to his heart that he’s been wanting to tell for – yes – years and years, so it’s sure to be one of the TV highlights of 2021.

The Unconfirmed: one of the great things at the start of the year is, you don’t know what you’re going to get. Sometimes you get, well, 2020. But sometimes you don’t! Sometimes you get a year in film like 1984 (Terminator! Ghostbusters! Gremlins!) or 1999 (Matrix! Fight Club! American Beauty!); sometimes you get a year in gaming like 1998 (Half-Life! Zelda! Grim Fandango!) or 2007 (Halo! BioShock! Crackdown!). What’s coming this year? Well, with the new consoles out, we’re going to finally start seeing some new games that wrestle with the hardware; not just the cross-generational likes of Halo or Horizon but some new games, some unannounced games. We’ll also, no doubt, see proper footage and trailers for stuff we do know – Hellblade, Fable, hopefully Perfect Dark. Taika Waititi’s got at least two films on the go; that’ll be good. Spielberg doesn’t usually rest on his laurels; he’s finished West Side Story, so what’s next? Bond will come out, somewhere, somehow; will we get the announcement of a new Bond? Speaking of recasting, is Jodie Whittaker really leaving Doctor Who? I’ve not been too fussed with the show the last couple of years, but I’m always rooting for her and will be sad to see her go; but does that mean we’re in for another New Doctor palaver later this year too? Will we see or hear anything of Rian Johnson’s Star Wars films or, even better, a Knives Out sequel? The new Stranger Things has got to be this year, hasn’t it? What about Star Trek – Picard season 2 and Discovery season 4 should be happening, but will we also see the Pike and Georgiou-focussed spin-offs? God knows! It’s all up in the air! And these are only the things that we know or can speculate a little bit about! But that’s what makes it so exciting.

Well, that’s it for now. As I write this, what can only be called a mob of white supremacist terrorists – idiot insurrectionists, if you will – have stormed the US Capitol. Truly terrifying scenes, given the added worry of the Twat in Chief using the crisis as some phony excuse to cling on to power. I have faith that it’ll be resolved, short-term, and that democracy – capital-D Democracy – will endure, for now. But it just goes to show how volatile everything is. The kids are being homeschooled again. London’s hospitals are teetering on the brink. There’s gunfire in the Senate. But the first Black Senator just got elected in Georgia. My wife’s playing Ooblets. Somewhere it’s sunny, somewhere else a kid’s catching snowflakes, and somewhere else again some lucky sod is getting to watch Nine to Five for the first time ever. Things are scary and often crap but on the whole I think the arc of the universe tilts ever so slightly towards Being Generally Okay.

Take care of yourselves, wear a bloody mask, and here’s to 2021 Being Generally Okay.

[techcrunchappcom]

New Post has been published on https://techcrunchapp.com/presidential-debate-trump-and-biden-row-over-covid-climate-and-racism/

Presidential debate: Trump and Biden row over Covid, climate and racism

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US election 2020

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media captionWhat you missed – the best bits from Trump and Biden’s final debate

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US President Donald Trump and his White House challenger Joe Biden clashed over Covid and race while trading corruption charges, in their final live TV debate.

On the pandemic, Mr Biden would not rule out more lockdowns, while Mr Trump insisted it was time to reopen the US.

Mr Trump cited unsubstantiated claims Mr Biden personally profited from his son’s business dealings. The Democrat brought up Mr Trump’s opaque taxes.

Mr Biden has a solid lead with 11 days to go until the presidential election.

But winning the most votes does not always win the election, and the margin is narrower in a handful of states that could decide the race either way.

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Live updates: The scramble to claim victory

Final debate fact-checked

Key takeaways from the debate

More than 47 million people have already cast their ballots in a voting surge driven by the pandemic.

This is already more than voted before polling day in the 2016 election. There are about 230 million eligible voters in total.

In snap polls – from CNN, Data Progress and US Politics – most respondents said Mr Biden had won the debate by a margin of more than 50% to about 40%.

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What was the overall tone?

Thursday night’s primetime duel in Nashville, Tennessee, was a less acrimonious and more substantive affair than the pair’s previous showdown on 29 September, which devolved into insults and name-calling.

Following that political brawl, debate organisers this time muted microphones during the candidates’ opening statements on each topic to minimise disruption.

But the 90-minute debate, moderated by NBC’s Kristen Welker, was the scene of plenty of personal attacks between the opponents, whose mutual dislike was palpable.

In individual closing argument to voters, they offered starkly different visions for the nation on everything from shutting down the country to tackle coronavirus, to shutting down the fossil fuel industry to confront climate change.

media captionBody language expert Mary Civiello gives her view on Trump and Biden’s body language

Coronavirus ‘going away’

Nowhere was the distinction between the two candidates more apparent than in their approach to the pandemic.

Asked about his support for more lockdowns if the scientists recommended it, Mr Biden, a Democrat, did not rule it out.

But Mr Trump, a Republican, said it was wrong to inflict further damage on the economy because of an infection from which most people recover.

“This is a massive country with a massive economy,” said the president. “People are losing their jobs, they’re committing suicide. There’s depression, alcohol, drugs at a level nobody’s ever seen before.”

media captionPresidential debate: Trump and Biden clash on Covid response

Mr Trump, 74, declared that the virus was “going away” and that a vaccine would be ready by the end of the year, while Mr Biden warned the nation was heading towards “a dark winter”.

The president said: “We’re learning to live with it.” Mr Biden, 77, countered: “Come on. We’re dying with it.”

Mr Biden laid blame for the 220,000-plus American deaths as a consequence of the pandemic at Mr Trump’s door.

“Anyone who’s responsible for that many deaths should not remain president of the United States of America,” he said.

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image copyrightGetty Images

‘This guy is a dog whistle’

During a back-and-forth on race relations, Mr Trump said: “I am the least racist person in this room.”

He brought up the 1994 crime bill that Mr Biden helped draft and which Black Lives Matter blames for the mass incarceration of African Americans.

But Mr Biden said Mr Trump was “one of the most racist presidents we’ve had in modern history. He pours fuel on every single racist fire”.

He added: “This guy is a [racial] dog whistle about as big as a fog horn.”

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Lasting impact unlikely

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Once again, Mr Biden largely held up under fire – avoiding the kind of gaffes and stumbles that could have played into Republican attempts to question his age and mental acuity.

The Trump campaign will try to make an issue out of Mr Biden’s call for a “transition” from oil-based energy – a risky thing to throw in at the tail end of the debate. In an era of hybrid cars and energy-efficient homes, however, when even petroleum companies employ similar language, it may not hit Americans as hard as Republicans imagine.

In the end, the raucous first debate probably will be what the history books record. And with polls showing most Americans already having made up their minds – and more than 45 million already having voted – the chance that this evening has a lasting impact on the race seems slim.

Bank accounts ‘all over the place’

Mr Trump brought up purported leaked emails from Mr Biden’s son, Hunter, about his business dealings in China.

But Mr Biden denied the president’s unfounded insinuation that the former US vice-president somehow had a stake in the ventures.

media captionWho really decides the US election?

“I think you owe an explanation to the American people,” said Mr Trump.

Mr Biden said: “I have not taken a single penny from any country whatsoever. Ever.”

The former vice-president referred to the New York Times recently reporting that Mr Trump had a bank account in China and paid $188,561 in taxes from 2013-15 to the country, compared with $750 in US federal taxes that the newspaper said he had paid in 2016-17 when he became president.

“I have many bank accounts and they’re all listed and they’re all over the place,” said Mr Trump. “I mean, I was a businessman doing business.”

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‘Trouble ahead’ on climate

Mr Biden described climate change as an “existential threat to humanity” and attacked Mr Trump for cutting curbs on polluters.

“Four more years of this man eliminating all the regulations that were put in by us to clean up the climate… will put us in the position where we’re going to be in real trouble,” he said.

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image copyrightReuters

Mr Trump defended his decision to pull out of the Paris Climate Accord, saying he would not “sacrifice tens of millions of jobs, thousands and thousands of companies” for the agreement.

The two clashed on energy policy, as Mr Trump asked his challenger: “Would you close down the oil industry?”

“I would transition from the oil industry, yes,” said Mr Biden, adding, “because the oil industry pollutes significantly.”

He said Big Oil – a reference to big oil companies – had to be replaced by renewable energy over time with the US moving towards net zero emissions.

“Basically what he’s saying is he’s going to destroy the oil industry,” said Mr Trump. “Will you remember that, Texas? Will you remember that, Pennsylvania, Oklahoma, Ohio?”

The Biden campaign afterwards said their candidate had been talking about ending oil subsidies.

‘Who built the cages, Joe?’

The two again argued when Mr Trump was asked about his policy of separating hundreds of children from undocumented immigrant adults at the southern US border.

The president pointed out that migrant children were also detained under the Obama administration.

media captionPresidential debate: Trump says catch and release only works on those with ‘lowest IQs’

“Who built the cages, Joe?” he said, referring to the chain-link enclosures where unaccompanied migrant children were held during the Obama-Biden administration.

But the former vice-president said the Trump administration had gone further by separating families and the practice was “criminal”.

Any other stand-out moments?

Not surprisingly, both candidates accused the other of unfulfilled promises while in office.

Mr Biden took his opponent to task for his pledges to come up with a healthcare plan to replace Mr Obama’s Affordable Care Act. Mr Trump had been talking about making such a move for years but “he’s never come up with a plan”, the Democrat said.

The president, meanwhile, talked about what he said was Mr Biden’s own inactivity while in office.

“You keep talking about all these things you’re going to do… but you were there just a short time ago and you guys did nothing,” he said.

“Joe, I ran because of you. I ran because of Barack Obama, because you did a poor job.”

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