#(I say as a person who did a battery of tests and has been medicated for it for 13 years lol)

[whentherewerebicycles]

ears of the day :)

[sacrificethemtothesquid]

It’s taken me almost a month to write this post, but here we are. Let’s see if I can get through it without dissolving.

We lost Skittish. 

Cut for animal death.

Skittish was diagnosed with inflammatory bowel disease about a year ago, but with a combo of prescription food, anti-nausea meds and steroids, she kept rallying. There was no specific prognosis, no hard timeline, but she was sixteen and I knew that at some point, it would have to end. My goal has always been to keep her comfortable, to not stress her out with invasive medical tests or treatments, and when the time came, to offer her a quick, compassionate release.

When I got up that Monday, I knew it was time. She’d been increasingly lethargic over the last few weeks, and when I went to say good morning, she didn’t chirp her usual greeting or even respond to my touch. There’s a vet in town who will come to your house, and I made an appointment for the afternoon, intending to spend our last few hours together snuggling and letting her know how deeply she was loved. 

We didn’t have those few hours. When my dad died, we were all there with him - my mom, my sister and me. The nurse explained the body’s process of dying, the way breathing and heartbeat change, the way muscles shiver in the absence of coherent signal. We held his hands and dabbed a damp sponge on his lips and counted the unsteady cadence of his pulse in the thin skin of his throat. Living things are living things, so when I laid down with Skittish, curling together in a pool of sunshine on the guest bed, I recognized the process, and knew that the afternoon was too far away.

We tried to get to the vet. We bundled her up in a towel thinking we could provide a little bit of mercy. We made it to an exam room, but she died on my lap before the doctor could come in. It was quick, quiet, and I was holding her. There’s no such thing as a great death - I just gave her the best one I could, and even though it was so incredibly hard to witness her leave, I’m so grateful she wasn’t alone. She was sixteen. 

Her name isn’t really Skittish - that’s just her internet identity, but it fits her perfectly. I got her when she was three months old. I was a sophomore in college and my mom was furious with me. “You work too much already,” she said. “You don’t need another thing to be responsible for.” But my roommate and I found her on Petfinder and love is irrational. 

I mean, look at her. 

She was an awkward kitten who grew into an awkward cat. She never quite learned to be graceful. She had weak hips which meant clawing her way up furniture rather than leaping. She was painfully shy. My roommate had a rabbit and Skittish was terrified of him.

She didn’t like new people. She hated my boyfriends. I was working my way through an unfortunate string of redheads, and after the last fling fizzled out, I promised both of us that if she didn’t like someone, he wasn’t worth my time. The next person was the future Husbandthing, and the first time she met him, she rubbed all over his shoes. She knew before I did. 

She was six when the Hellbeast came into the picture. (Again, fluffiest cat on Petfinder.) They were interested in each other for about a month, and then they decided that no, they did not like each other, and would tolerate coexistence as long as distance was maintained. 

Sometimes, they’d deign to be in the same room together, but only if there wasn’t a better sunny spot anywhere else.

When Skittish felt safe, she was bright and curious. Construction didn’t really bother her, and she was a cautious supervisor.

She was never a lap cat until she got older, and then she would immediately snuggle whenever my lap was available. She was happiest curled up next to me under the covers.

The last year of her life was hard. She couldn’t keep much food down despite being on a battery of anti-nausea meds and subsequently lost a lot of weight, but through it all, she stayed cheerful. She spent most of her time asleep on the guest bed, but whenever I came to sit and snuggle with her, she always chirped a welcome and eagerly purred. When Zoom abruptly became a daily occurrence, as soon as I sat down, she would join me and drool on my leg, blissed out as I brushed her. 

I miss her. I’m grateful she’s no longer in pain. I’m glad to not be cleaning up cat puke all the time, but the house dynamic has shifted dramatically. I feel off-balance. Muscle memory insists on checking the guest room, but there’s no one there. When I brush my teeth, there’s no one sitting on the toilet demanding skritches. When I’m on Zoom, any passing movement in my periphery brings a thrill of relief - here comes my girl! - and then I remember that there’s no one to sit on my lap anymore. In meetings, other people have cats wandering across their desks, and it fucking hurts to know that I don’t have that anymore.

I miss the click of her arthritic hips as she walks. The house is painfully silent, and it’s hard to take a nap when I don’t have the familiar weight of a cat resting on my belly. The Hellbeast is still here, of course, beloved and noisy, following me around and yelling to get my attention, but instead of four beings in this house, there are only three of us and things just feel empty.

I’ll get through it. We’ll get through it. Like my mom said, it’s hard to raise a puss from kittenhood knowing what will eventually come, but I can’t imagine not having her through the years. She was a good girl, my best girl, my Miss Mouse, my college kitty, my sweet old lady, the one that the vet always fawned over and praised for being gorgeous and well-behaved. She was never very interested in Crimes, and if she was extremely upset with something you were doing, she’d gently, almost apologetically, put her mouth on your arm, never breaking skin. If you took the time to win her over, carefully and with respect, you were richly rewarded by her presence. She kept me company when I was in a bad mental space. She played hide-and-seek when she was feeling spicy. She made our house a home.

When she was leaving, I told her it was all right, that she was safe, that it was okay to go. I’m so grateful that she existed and so grateful that she loved me as much as I loved her. I miss her so much, but I’m so grateful to have shared my life with her.

There have been five deaths in the family in the last two years, so I know how to weather the grief. I know how to acknowledge the pain. This is a long obituary, but I need to put the words down somewhere. I don’t know what to do with her ashes, since she hated the outdoors, but currently she’s in a box under the bed, one of her favorite hiding places, and for now, that feels right. 

Thanks, kitten. You were the best. 

[itisraininginjuly]

I finally did it.

I don't know how am I going to start this but I am glad to say that I finally sought a professional help for my myself. It was somewhere mid-November that I decided to visit a Psychiatrist. My co-resident who knew my problems from the start accompanied me to the doctor's clinic because I was always apprehensive about it. I know a lot of people would wonder what would be my problem that it made me seek some help when I just look happy and normal.

You know what, I really don't know how am I going to share this in this platform because I feel weird about it talking over and over again about my problem. But maybe, slowly by slowly I would be able to loosen up since Tumblr has been my cyber home back in 2009.

But here is what my Psychiatrist told me about my condition. She told me that I am suffering from dysthymia and post traumatic stress disorder. I have told a few people about it and most of them have the same reaction. "How come?" "What happened?" They were all confused because I look normal. I guess they perceived me as a happy, jolly person who loves to crack jokes all the time. In other words, a clown. Haha. Kidding.

Okay, moving on. My doctor gave me anti-depressent medication to help me sleep (because it was one of my chief complaints) and probably, to stabilized my mood. However, I wasn't compliant because I don't like its side effects and I gained weight. So, I decided to go to a psychologist for a psychotherapy. I had only one session from the first psychologist because she only caters online clients and I am not comfortable about it. I asked my friend who is Psychiatry resident and she referred me to Pysch Help.

And there my journey continues because I think I already have more than 5 sessions in this clinic. I just took their Test Battery and as expected my results revealed that I scored severe levels of depression and anxiety.

... and my momentum stopped. I can't continue this writing anymore. I will be back again, don't worry.

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Charlie’s 5✩ Inspiration: Daytime Spiritualities [昼日疑魂] Date Translation (Prologue)

“An eligible fiancée should always be prepared to make some sacrifices in the name of love.”

*Light and Night Master-list | Charlie’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *5✩ Inspirations have 5 Endings!! *CG Image used with permission from 蓝咕咕 ☆ *Charlie’s tag will be #For Night, For Paradox

Even the unluckiest soul in the world will one day meet a stroke of good luck at some odd point in time.

For example, I'd gone out to purchase some batteries last week, only to somehow win a chance to try out a new model of Home Projector. All I had to do was to give them feedback about it afterwards, and the projector was mine.

What a rare stroke of good luck! Shouldn’t I share some with the exceptional “Mr. Perfect” as well?

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Setting my mind to it, I dialled the number I knew by heart.

Charlie: How rare it is for you to be the one calling me.

MC: Cut the crap. I'm here because I need something from you.

MC: Are you free this Saturday, Charlie?

Charlie: I… probably don't have any shifts on that day.

Charlie: Ah, I know now. You're asking me out for a date? Please tell me it's not for a Saturday candle-lit dinner.

MC: Dream on. Dinner's a stretch and candles are a no-go.

Charlie: How dull.

Charlie: But, yes. You do have a point there. My presence overshadows any candlelight before me, so long as I am around.

MC: I'm starting to regret ever calling you.

MC: I'm not going to tell you what we're going to be doing so just wait till Saturday and you'll know.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Saturday arrived much faster than I thought. I went out grocery shopping early on Saturday morning to give Charlie, "his highness", a grand welcome.

I passed the hospital on my way home when something extravagantly gold suddenly caught my attention.

A gold leaf-painted car. One with extremely showy butterfly doors. There, it stood; sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the calm serenity of the hospital.

This grandiose display of extravagance was something all too familiar to me…

Who else would do this, but Charlie?

MC: But… Why's he at the hospital today?

MC: Didn't he say that he didn't have any scheduled shifts?

Unable to restrain my curiosity, I decided to head into the hospital and have a look for myself.

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Hurried footsteps sounded inside the IPD (In-Patient Department) as people came and went. Medicinal bottles clinked, and soft murmuring came from the Doctors and Patients down in the Wards. The IPD’s corridor was already abuzz with life this early in the morning.

Yet, the door to Charlie’s office was shut tight with nary a sound.

MC: How quiet. Is he not in his office?

I gently pushed the door open, only to be stunned speechless by the scene that greeted me inside his office…

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Charlie was lifelessly sprawled on the floor. His eyes were closed, and it was deathly silent.

The fridge by his side was wide open. The enzyme drinks and the fruit and vegetable juices within were exposed to the open as the fridge expelled cool air. White sheets of document paper were scattered all over the floor.

MC: Charlie?

Said person sprawled on the ground didn't move a finger, much less make a sound.

"An Employee's Sudden Death In the Early Morning", "Inside the Medical Industry: Why Work Crazy Overtime Hours". Possible headlines started running through my head, causing my mental alarm bells to start ringing.

MC: Hey? Hey! Are you okay!?

I flung my shopping bag to the side, quickly reaching out to place my finger under his nose to check if he was breathing.

MC: Phew… At least he's still breathing.

Just as I was about to turn tail and ask for help, I felt my fingers get caught in a soft and warm hold.

Charlie: Wait.

MC: !?

MC: Are you okay?

The person on the ground reached out to pinch my trembling fingers, shaking them twice in what was supposedly affirmation.

The heart that had leapt to my throat upon finding him settled back down, but doubt still remained.

MC: How… How do you feel now?

Charlie raised his head in a daze, looking like a right mess with tired black circles under his eyes.

Charlie: %#*$&...

MC: ???

MC: Wait, were you just asleep earlier!?

Charlie was just like a lion who’d awoken from slumber. He leisurely rubbed his eyes sleepily, the action itself seemingly giving you the answer to your question.

MC: ……

I started to replay everything I’d seen earlier in my mind… Steady breathing, warmness, and even the ever so faint snoring that came out from his parted lips...

Looks like I'm truly the one who’d jumped to conclusions here.

Recalling how I’d totally been frightened out of my own wits upon finding him earlier, I suddenly felt my cheeks grow hot.

MC: But, why are you sleeping on the floor? Are you that tired that you just crashed on the spot?

Charlie: As if. I purposely chose to sleep on the floor.

Charlie paused for a second, gathering up all his documents that were scattered all over the floor before rightening himself and walking over to bask under the morning light that filtered in. However, the expression he wore was still a little out of place.

Charlie: Once you’ve tried out all of the high-end beds in the world, you’ll soon come to realize that the bed is actually a pretty inferior piece of furniture to be sleeping on.

Charlie: It is only by staying in tune with nature and reverting to primal nature that you can get the highest quality of sleep.

Charlie: And the ground is the one thing closest to nature.

MC: ...We're on the second floor here.

Charlie: I have my own manner of thinking.

MC: ……

Although it did sound ridiculous, Charlie was someone who could even the most absurd things miraculously come true. I think I've pretty much been… rendered speechless.

As I was rendered speechless, the initiator of this entire farce had settled back in front of his desk as if everything was as per usual.

Charlie: I'll have to congratulate you first, (Y/n).

Charlie: For taking the initiative to find my workplace; and advancing us a step further in our progress towards making it onto the "Guangqi City's Model Married Couple List".

MC: Sorry, but we don't seem to be married yet. So, there's no way we'll be up on that list.

Charlie: Keep at it and we'll soon qualify for it.

MC: You've got some thick skin…

Did I really need to worry about this man earlier? He has such thick and impenetrably hard skin that I don't know whether I should be pitying him or the floor his face smashes into.

MC: Still, what are you doing here on a Saturday?

MC: Didn't you say that you didn't have any scheduled shifts today?

I leaned over and stared at him with narrowed eyes.

His eyes were a little dodgy. And when paired with the dark eye circles under his eyes, it was a rare sight on this "pricelessly perfect face" of his.

Charlie: I came to the hospital today to… Ahem. To wait for my assistant to deliver the blood test report.

Charlie: Last week's report; dragged till today. I'm not one to say this, but the young doctors all have serious procrastination issues.

Charlie: If all doctors are like that, then who dares be their patient?

Charlie had his brow furrowed into a particularly deep crease at that. He turned his gaze outside the window with eyes as dark as the old senior director of the hospital, who had a head full of grey and ever so grave.

And when I moved closer to peer at the stack of documents on the table and the crooked and askew words… His face morphed into a look warmer than that of welcoming neighbours.

However, the problem here was that… Wasn't that "Ward Round Medical Records" written on top of those documents?

MC: This doesn't look like a blood test report.

Charlie: You can actually tell?

MC: If I squint at it… Your scrawl is most certainly…. Erm… Unique.

His face slightly changed at that. He swiped the document from my hand and shoved it under the table.

Charlie: Enough of that. There is no way that this can ever be my handwriting.

Charlie: My calligraphy was already level 8 out of 10 in middle school.

Charlie: This is clearly someone else's handwriting!

He purposefully angled his body so that his back was facing the documents and propped his hands on the table.

Charlie: And, back to you. Why are you in such a rush to see me?

Charlie: Come on then; let's hear it. Just where are you asking me out to?

My eyes moved to look away, the fluttery airiness in my voice no longer carrying its lilt.

MC: My house.

Charlie: ...That quickly?

There was an odd hint of hesitance in his tone, something different from his usual overwhelming confidence.

However, this minuscule hesitance of his was gone as soon as it came. Soon, the corners of his mouth lifted up as high as they could go.

Charlie: Tsk, tsk, tsk. Never thought you'd be more proactive at this than I.

Charlie: There's no need to refuse; no need to feel shy. I know.

Charlie: But still, just us alone… together? Don’t you think that’s a little too rushed? Shouldn’t you do this more romantically, at least?

MC: ...Are you still half-asleep?

Charlie raised his eyebrows before shooting me an overly enthusiastic wink.

Charlie: What do you think?

MC: If you're awake, then stop spouting nonsense.

MC: Long story short, I won a trial run of a new Home Projector model last week…

Charlie: So, you’re inviting me to your house to watch a movie with you?

I never thought that Charlie would understand what I was getting at so quickly. I hurriedly nodded.

MC: Yup!

Charlie suddenly perked up. He crossed his fingers in thought.

Charlie: I suppose that makes sense. First, a movie; and then slowly, step-by-step.

MC: ……

He “knowingly” quirks his brows at you, his lips curled into a satisfied smile.

All traces of sleepiness on his face had been wiped clean from his features. Charlie stands up from his desk, seemingly having been suddenly imbued with a burst of energy.

With a faint smile on his face, he stretches his slender fingers out to hook it around the handle of the leopard-print mug on the table.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

I was caught off guard as an oddly familiar sense of deja vu overcame my senses…

It was as if a lively, yet oddly out-of-place saxophone piece had started playing in the background of his deserted office.

And there he stood, slowly coming into the view of the lens, panning forth in slow-motion. Golden sunlight filtered in from the windows, kissing the contours of his face and highlighting his profile.

Charlie: ……

He hooks his fingers onto his tie, tugging gently at it. His collar loosens, revealing his collarbones that peek out from beneath his shirt.

The knot of his tie rested next to the third button of his dress shirt. It was undone, yet not quite.

He pushed back the stray strands of hair that had fallen out of place by his sideburns.

Charlie: Does something seem off?

MC: What do you mean?

I lifted my head to peer into his cup. I could only see his reflection reflected in the waters.

MC: Not really…?

Charlie: As it should be.

MC: ?

Charlie: It appears that I am still as glamorous as always.

MC: ……

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

If Narcissus, the God of Narcissism who turned into a Narcissus, were to be reborn; then his reincarnation will be none other than Charlie.

In just a mere 2 seconds, Charlie was back to his usual pompous self.

Charlie: I'm going to get changed. Please give me a moment.

With that, Charlie briskly turns around and heads into the dressing room. He muttered lowly to himself as he went, the sound trailing after him as he disappeared into a corner of the room…

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Charlie: Charlie, I don't want to be the one to say this; but what’s the matter with you today?

Charlie: Passing out in the office! Your perfect image was almost ruined!

Charlie: Thankfully, I reacted fast enough.

Smiling, Charlie shakes his head helplessly at his own mirror image.

Charlie: Still, my posture is still so very charming, even if I did pass out cold on the floor.

Charlie: Oh, perfection; your name is Charlie.

Meanwhile, I was blissfully unaware of these small theatrics going on inside the dressing room as I waited for him outside….

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Since Charlie was out, I decided to take the chance to survey his office.

The multitude of silk award banners and certificates of merit displayed on the cabinet stupefied me. I couldn’t believe the fact that all these awards belonged to Dr. Zha, who was currently piecing himself back together in the dressing room.

Suddenly, my attention was drawn to the work calendar that hung at the door. It had Charlie’s familiar handwriting scrawled on it.

MC: Is this…

The door to the dressing room opens with a thud as Charlie appears by the window, now casually dressed.

I ended up blurting out the question that was festering in my heart.

MC: Charlie, were you… working overtime overnight yesterday?

MC: Just so that you could make time for me on Saturday?

I looked at Charlie, attempting to gauge the answer from his eyes. That was when I realized that his eyes were bloodshot.

Charlie freezes for a moment. Something clicked inside his brain as he realized that he’d unwittingly overlooked a small detail. His high spirits immediately dampened.

Charlie: Do you have to say it out loud for the entire world to hear? How unromantic.

His honesty confirmed the disbelief I’d felt upon the revelation. It finally made sense now.

Charlie: No need to feel overly moved by this. An eligible fiancée should always be prepared to make some sacrifices in the name of love.

Charlie: Of course, I have to be willing to make said sacrifice as well.

He faced me with utter confidence. The sincere look in his eyes made me think that maybe this was only right.

Looking at the childish chicken scratch on the calendar, I can’t help but suspect that this might just be how he is when he was actually being serious for a change.

Charlie: Stop standing around. Let's go.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹ 

Charlie led me out of the hospital. The engine of the flashy golden sports car roared as it brought us to my place.

I took my keys out and moved to open the door.

Suddenly, I recalled that it had been a long time since I last cleaned my room. I feel like I should say something about it first…

MC: I’ll warn you beforehand. My room is a little messy, so I’m sorry if it offends you, your highness.

MC: Express your distaste, and today’s session will end here.

Charlie: That's all?

MC: ...That's all.

Charlie: And here I thought that you were going to say something like, “Close your eyes, I’m going to blindfold you.”

Charlie: Or, maybe ask me for the right password before granting me entry.

Charlie: What’s wrong with a messy room?

He laughs, leaning down to place his hand upon mine, which was gripping tightly onto the doorknob. He gave it a small push. My hand moved along with the doorknob under the pressure he exerted, and the door creaked open.

Charlie: I can always help you move into our new apartment if you want a bigger room to place your things in.

Charlie went around me and walked straight in.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

The lights weren’t on yet, but I could hear his voice in the dim room.

Charlie: Where's the mess?

Charlie: It’s pretty good; enough to house another person.

The embarrassment that had yet to completely set in was soon washed away by his teasing words. Relieved, I left the bag of snacks by the door and ran into the room.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Charlie was seated on the loveseat, his hands casually resting against the back of it.

MC: Your arms are stretched so far out. Made yourself at home, I see.

I patted the hand that he’d stretched out to lean against the sofa with a smile.

MC: I think distance makes the heart fonder between us.

Unfazed, he withdrew his hand without a word.

Charlie: And this is how you treat the evaluator you specially invited?

MC: Yeah.

Charlie: Can't you be a little more professional?

MC: Of course I can. But, I’ll also have to ask this evaluator here to kindly up his professionalism as well.

MC: Don’t get any funny ideas from your own fantasies during the movie.

Charlie knowingly retracted his “I own the world” sitting posture and moved further out.

Charlie: I can obviously do that.

Charlie: But, what if the person picking out the movie has their own selfish motives and chooses to watch some romance flick?

MC: No need to worry about that. We’re watching this today.

I sat down and turned the projector on. A shockingly red movie poster flickered onto the screen. Charlie's smile immediately froze in place.

Charlie: What… What is this?

MC: "Massacre of the Spirit". This is what we're going to be watching today.

Charlie: Massacre of… the Spirit? A horror film?

Charlie: Seriously, (Y/n)?

MC: Absolutely. My hard disk died not too long ago, so this horror movie is the only thing left in my cloud storage.

Charlie didn't reply, only mutedly leaning back against the loveseat.

His lips were pressed into a thin line, and he looked a little… nervous.

MC: Charlie? Are you scared of watching it?

Charlie: ...How absurd.

Charlie: The word "scared" doesn't exist in my dictionary.

Charlie: Don't go clinging to me in fright when the time comes.

With that, he casually pulls the blanket over our laps as if it was the most natural thing to do.

I peered up at him, but he cut me off before I even had the chance to thank him.

Charlie: No need to thank me.

Charlie: I can most definitely lend you this warm chest of mine if you get so frightened that you get the chills.

MC: Heh, there's no need for that.

MC: But, thank you for the blanket.

However, just as I was about to hit the play button, Charlie held my hand down.

Charlie: Wait, wait!

He reached over my lap and quickly smoothed over all the wrinkles on the blanket. He was very swift, almost as if he was handling white mice.

Charlie: Okay. You can start now.

Why's this man acting so strange today?

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I lowered the blackout curtains and the room darkened.

The screen before us flickered twice as screams and the sound of something tearing reverberated through the room.

The movie showed an autopsy room that was lit up as bright as the day with a withered human chained to the operating table. And hidden within the darkness, was a deathly sharp bayonet that was fatally poised.

It was then that Charlie brought something up. His low voice cut through the movie's colourful sound effects and entered my ears.

Charlie: Are you not afraid to see scenes like this?

Charlie looked at me, awaiting my reply…

How should I reply to him…?

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

✥ Choose your Ending:

END 1 | Choice: Do Nothing [都不做]

END 2 + 3 | Choice: Approach [亲近] ⊹Touch⊹

END 4 | Choice: Listen [倾听] ❖ASMR

END 5 | Choice: Heart-throb [心动] ★Night★ 

❖☆————— ⊹ For Night, For Paradox⊹ —————★❖

[aworldoffandoms]

Love is a Beautiful Thing - Ethan x F!MC

Authors Note:  HI! I’m back (finally) with another prompt ask fic! I know it’s taken too long for this to happen but my laptop battery decided to shit itself and I needed to send it away to get it fixed and now it’s back and here it is! lol. I’m sorry for my mediocre writing with this one but I hope you enjoy, anyway! I apologise for any spelling, grammar and punctuation mistakes. Prompt is in bold.

AO3 WORK

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC [Nicolette Valentine]

Word Count: 2, 075 (who allows me to write? Oh, me... damnit.)

Prompt: “Not only am I deeply in love with you, you’re my best friend.”

Rating: G

Warnings: Fluff and Ethan and Nic being cute. 

Tag list at the bottom of this post.

Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Pixelberry and all characters belong to them.

*** 

LOVE IS A BEAUTIFUL THING

Ethan knew the exact moment that he fell in love with Nicolette. It was on a Sunday, their first weekend off in two months and Nicolette was staying over, her hair up in a messy bun, red hair slipping out of its hold and framing her face in the most delicate way that made her more ethereal when the sun shone on her hair, making it glow like a warm fire. 

He knew he was in love when she smiles, her cheeks and all of her smattered with freckles that Ethan found himself tracing with his fingers at night, following them like a map as they trailed from her nose, down her cheeks to the lower parts of her chest and shoulders and Ethan marvels each time he gets to see them, touch them...kiss them. 

His chest warms with love when she comes home from grocery shopping in an oversized Columbia University jumper that she got at a conference in her second year of medical school, her Adidas stretch leggings that hugged her legs in the most enticing and her long hair a mess around her shoulders, not caring about her appearance in the slightest. It reiterates how comfortable she was with him. This is Nicolette in her purest form and a smile lifts his lips at the thought that Nicolette, the most gentle, kind-hearted and compassionate woman was able to be herself with him in whatever capacity.

Ethan knew he was in love when he finds Nicolette on his couch, tears tracking down her face and a pile of tissues surrounding her, her eyes glued to the television. One glance at the TV and Ethan realises it’s a Disney movie. He should be amazed and somewhat turned off by the fact that a twenty-eight-year-old cries at a Disney movie but in this particular case, a fond smile raises his lips at the sight even when his heart drops at seeing her crying. He never likes to see her cry. He always admires Nicolette when she doesn’t hide behind a facade of what she should be. If she wants to watch a movie from her childhood then she is going to watch it, if she cries then she’ll do it. She is real. She is her authentic self and Ethan has never been more in love. 

Ethan’s in love when he finds Nicolette, sitting in front of his laptop, researching a case they’ve been trying to diagnose one night, her glasses perched on her face, her nose scrunched up in concentration, the light of the screen emphasising the bags under those beautiful blue eyes. She doesn’t know he’s there, himself tucked behind an alcove out of sight. So now, he just watches her do her thing, sift through notes, type on the keyboard. A silent chuckle escapes him when he sees her tongue poking out of her lips, a sure sign that she was in the deepest trance of her concentration. Nicolette pushes back some of the hair that had fallen in her face and Ethan’s fingers twitch to do the same but he forces himself to resist and stay put. He’s more than content just to watch her. 

It’s then that he really knows it. He could watch her do that for the rest of his life if he wanted to and he’d never get sick of it. Pure happiness and joy settle around him like a warm blanket on a cold night and he sighs at the euphoric feeling. He loves Nicolette and he’ll love her for the rest of his days on this earth. 

“I know you’re there, Ethan so you can come out of your creepy hideaway and come sit with me. I need your brain for a minute.” 

Ethan jolts out of his own trance (or perhaps he should say his Nicolette trance) and pads over to the couch, laughing as he does so. 

“‘You need my brain’? That’s a creative and articulate way of saying you need me.” 

Nicolette glances over to him, giving him a flat look before she smiles and shrugs at his words. “It’s true though, I need you for your brain and nothing else right now.” 

Ethan chuckles, his hand coming up to wrap around the back of her neck as he begins gently kneading it, finding a cord of tension there. Nicolette melts into his touch but her eyes are still focused on the notes in front of her. 

“What a shame. I would have been happy to oblige in whatever else you needed from me.” 

Nicolette scoffs. “Please, Ethan. Maybe go grab some water for yourself because I am sure as hell ain’t thirsty right now. I’m researching this case and I need to study for my boards.” 

Ethan ignores the implication of those words (he did know what it meant, he wasn’t a complete tragic) and focuses on what Nicolette was viewing.

“Practice exam questions for IMCs?” 

Nicolette signs, removing her glasses to rub at her eyes. She had been staring at the laptop screen for too long and they were starting to hurt. She sighs as she puts her glasses back on and turns to her boyfriend. “Yes, they are. It’s the third time I’m going to study it today. Can you please help me through them? I need a sounding board right now. I’m sick and tired of hearing the voice inside my head read questions back at me.” 

Ethan’s eyebrows furrow in concern at the lethargy he can hear in her voice and the small droop of her shoulders. He doesn’t want her to burn out but he figures that she’ll continue anyway. She’s as stubborn as him. 

“Okay, I’ll help. What do you need?” 

Nicolette claps and sits back from him, pulling her knees up underneath her and turns so that she’s face to face with him. “Run through some practice questions with me and then we can get some takeaway and watch a trashy movie or something.” 

Ethan chuckles, a fond smile lighting up his face. He finds where Nicolette was up to and begins reciting the question. “Okay. Here we go… A 23-year-old woman with bone marrow failure is treated with a large dose of rabbit anti-thymocyte globulin. Ten days later, she develops fever, lymphadenopathy, arthralgias, and erythema on her hands and feet. Which of the following is the most likely cause of these symptoms?” 

Ethan already knew the answer but he allows Nicolette the time to answer herself. He sees the clocks working in her mind and her eyes light up as she finds the answer. “Is it immune complex deposition in tissues?” 

Ethan flips back to the practice test answers and he gives a nod and an answering smile at her when he finds that she was correct. He would have told her yes straight away but he knew Nicolette enough that she would have appreciated that he goes to the answered section to make sure that she’s correct. 

“Yes, you’re right! Good work!” 

Nicolette cheers with a resounding ‘yay’ as she claps her hands, her face alight with relief. Ethan grins at her enthusiasm because he knows how much succeeding at this means to her. So, it’s there, in the middle of Ethan’s living room, the sun already on its decline where Ethan and Nicolette sit and work through each question of her board exam practice test. 

It's a few hours after that, the inky black night piercing the living room, both of them leaning up against the couch with Ethan chuckling at a particular answer that Nicolette got wrong (and a particularly hard one at that, he wasn’t going to lie) that he realises he’s having the time of his life. It’s these little moments that set his heart aflame, that bring him a sense of contentment. Rightness.  

Ethan can’t fathom a time where he wasn’t having fun with Nicolette and he is so glad that he is in a position to be here with her. She is his closest confidant, a person with whom he can be himself, his best self, opinions, objections and all. A warm smile lifts the corners of his mouth and he says the next words with an air of reverence, of truth and certainty for they were the truest words to ever leave his lips. 

Ethan grabs her hand, his face serious for a moment and Nicolette stops and stares at the utter warmth of his eyes, the blue of them liquid cyan and the admiration on his face makes her breath hitch in her throat.

“You are amazing, Nicolette. You make every day brighter and I can’t honestly imagine walking through life without you. I can honestly, without any reservation, say that not only am I deeply in love with you, you’re my best friend.” 

Nicolette is frozen, her mouth popped open in evident shock but Ethan sees the effect his words have had on her. Her crystal blue eyes shine like diamonds as tears well up in them and he resists the urge to pull her to him. He needs to say this otherwise he was going to burst. 

“I realise it’s not the best time but I just had to say it. I needed to otherwise—” 

Nicolette cuts him off with a kiss, the kiss so strong that he loses his balance against the suddenness of it and falls backwards, both of them sprawled on the plush area rug. 

Nicolette breaks the kiss after a while and just looks at him, her fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. Her eyes are shiny and tears are slowly making their way down her cheeks as she whispers, her forehead coming to rest upon his gently, her lips mere inches away from his.

“I can’t study for my boards now since you’ve said that so we’re going to get takeaway. Call for Chinese and I’ll put on a movie.” 

There is a pang in his chest as he hears her words and he can’t help but be disappointed. A part of him was hoping for reciprocation or at least something remotely related to his words. And yet, Nicolette’s mind is different from his, no less fantastically intelligent but different and he realises that she processes things differently from him. Whether it takes her a few seconds, minutes or days, it won’t matter to him. He would wait for her forever. 

He nods, trying to not let the disappointment show on his face and plucks his phone out of his pocket and press speed dial to call his favourite Chinese restaurant just down the main street, a few metres from his condo. 

He’s just staring out at the horizon, his eyes scanning the twinkling skyline of Boston when he freezes as he feels Nicolette behind him hugging him, her head on his back and her arms tight around his torso. He shivers when he feels Nicolette kiss his shoulder, her face buried into him, almost like she wanted to melt into him completely. 

“I love you too, Ethan. I know I don’t say it enough but you’re my best friend and I thank the stars every day that we met.” She squeezes him once more before letting go. “Oh, and don’t forget the Kung pao chicken.” 

Ethan grins and his heart flies out of his chest. God, he loves this woman so much. 

“I would never forget the Kung pao chicken, Nicolette.” 

Nicolette turns to him and gives him a soft smile, her eyes shining with deep affection. “Good. I knew I loved you for a reason.”  

“Oh? Is that the only reason?” 

Nicolette smirks as she makes her way to the cabinet next to the stove where they kept the wine, her eyes alight with mischief as she gives Ethan a wink. 

“A woman never reveals her secrets, Ethan.” 

Ethan laughs, the sound light and happy, a smile on his lips as he orders them dinner. Love is a beautiful thing, Ethan thinks, and he again berates himself for resisting this wonderful feeling for so long. He marvels silently as he stares out at the Boston skyline again, the sounds of domesticity surround him as Nicolette gets ready for dinner and he’s never felt so safe, so calm...so at ease.

Ethan lets out a sigh of contentment. Love is beautiful and if he could have a beautiful life with Nicolette? Well, then... he can call himself the luckiest man on earth.

***

OH TAG LIST:  @senseofduties @polishchoicesfan @princess-geek @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @binny1985 @fanficnewbie @x-kyne-x  @thecordoniandiaries @rainbowsinthestorm @jens-diamondchoices @hopelessly-shipper @my-heart-beats-for-ya @landofenchantedwonder​ @flyawayboo​ @stanathanxoox​ @oofchoices​ @thequeenofcronuts​ @heauxplesslydevoted​ @trappedinfandoms​  @perriewinklenerdie​ @riverrune​ @caseyvalentineramsey @nithya @kaavyaethanramsey @whippedforethanfreakingramsey​ @theeccentricbiblophile @maurine07​ @openheartthot​ @takemyopenheart​ @queencarb​ @drariellevalentine​ @drakewalkerfantasy​ @pixelberrychoicesaddict-blog @starrystarrytrouble​ @buzz-bee-buzz @anything-but-reality​ @doilooklikeiknow​ @mvalentine​ @jamespotterthefirst​ @anntoldst0ries​  @nishas-paradise  @tenaciousdeputydreamfriend @choicesaddict5​  @fireycookie @thegreentwin​

[zelenacat]

When We Were Young- An Obitine Story- Chapter 17

After meeting the new government officials personally and sending them off to do their jobs, much of Satine’s time was spent with the Corruption Committee. It began with mandatory inspections, questionnaires, wage increases, and tighter import laws. At the end of every day, the Duchess found herself exhausted.

“How are you little ones,” she asked her stomach, cradling the now noticeable lump, “we’ve had quite the day haven’t we?”

A knock came at the door and Khaami got up to get it.

“It’s Hera.” 

The door opened and the nurse stepped inside, hauling a large bag with her. Khaami shut the door and locked it.

“I know it may look like a lot, Your Grace,” Hera set her bag down, “but there are many tests we have yet to run.”

“Such as?”

“You may need vitamins,” Hera looked up, a bottle in each hand, “and certainly calcium pills.”

The Duchess relented and lay back against her pillows. Parna pulled down her covers. 

“How have you been feeling lately?” the nurse asked, approaching Satine with a stethoscope.

“Tired mostly,” the Duchess answered, “although I have been trying to get my rest.”

Hera listened and placed her stethoscope on Satine’s stomach, waiting. 

“Everything sounds good,” she smiled, “but I did bring the portable ultrasound just in case.”

As the blurry images of two blob-like shapes became vaguely recognizable as human, the Duchess swallowed hard.

“Satine?” Parna questioned.

“I haven’t called Ben in a while,” she confessed, “and I still haven’t told him.”

Hera looked up, “I take it Ben is the father?”

“Yes,” Khaami answered for Satine, “and he has quite the high-profile job.”

“Dear me,” Hera seemed to want to ask something, but then thought better of it, “I assume it’s best the less I know.”

“Yes,” Satine nodded, “but I will tell you that I love him.”

“I wouldn’t think anything else, Your Grace.”

The Duchess smiled at that, at least there were some who knew her true character.

“Just to be safe,” Hera stood, “I suggest you take vitamins and calcium pills, prenatal pills would be too risky I think.”

“I agree,” Satine nodded, “but I appreciate your help, I want my girls to be healthy.”

“I’m sure they will be.” Hera grinned.

Khaami helped the nurse to the door while Parna changed Satine into her nightdress.

“How is the status of the birth basement?” Satine asked, feeling weird even to call it that.

“Almost ready,” Khaami answered, “we have towels, blankets, numbing shots, diapers, but Oiyo still needs a new battery.”

“Perhaps Hera could be of help.” Satine suggested.

“Yes,” the Duchess nodded, “enlist her on that.”

“I am still worried about the falsified documents,” Parna confessed, “are you sure we’re untraceable?”

“Let’s begin withdrawing some of my personal funds,” Satine instructed, “we’ll pay upfront.”

Khaami stood, “I will go speak with Hera.”

Parna grabbed Satine’s comm.

“I suggest you call your Jedi.”

Satine swallowed, “I hardly know what I’ll say.”

“Conversation will flow naturally,” Parna smiled, “I can tell he cares for you.”

The Duchess nodded, grateful for her lady, then dismissed Parna.

Satine pressed a button, “Ben?”

No response.

“Obi?”

The third time, Satine succeeded.

“Hello, darling,” Obi-Wan’s voice was slightly strained, “it’s been a while.”

Satine was not fooled, “What’s happening, Obi?”

“We’re recovering after a battle.”

“Don't tell me they put you on the front lines again,” Satine frowned, “you just recovered.”

“I made for a good patient.” Obi-Wan replied.

Satine sighed, “You need your rest, Ben.”

“I can’t,” Obi-Wan swallowed, “I can't sleep when I dream of you.”

The Duchess found herself at a loss for words. Obi-Wan turned on his holo-figure and Satine could physically see his worry.

“Love?”

Satine turned her holo-figure on, “You’re such a romantic, Ben.”

Obi-Wan actually laughed at that.

“Do you know when you’ll be coming home?” Satine asked hopefully.

“Not as long as we thought I think,” Obi-Wan smiled, “I should be relieved in about two or three months.”

The Duchess’ face fell.

“Satine?”

“That’s still a long time, Obi.” she whimpered.

“I can only hope that it’ll be sooner,” the Jedi replied, “I think of you all the time.”

“You’re often on my mind as well.” Satine confessed.

“And how are politics now,” Obi-Wan asked, “any corruption arrests?”

“We’ve had a handful in the past two months,” Satine nodded, “though I still worry for my government.”

“If anyone can pull her system through this,” the jedi winked, “it's you, Satine.”

“I appreciate your kind words, Ben.”

A moment of sad silence filtered into the conversation and Satine drew in a breath.

“Obi-Wan?”

“Yes?” The Jedi sounded concerned.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Ah yes, your medical situation?”

The way he said it, Satine wondered if he already knew.

“Ben,” tears welled in Satine’s eyes, “I was afraid, so I kept putting off telling you, but-”

“Satine,” Obi-Wan’s voice grew quiet, “are you-”

“Yes,” the Duchess sobbed, “five whole months.”

It was a long time before Obi-Wan spoke again.

“Ben, Ben, please answer me.”

“I thought you were sick,” the Jedi’s voice quivered, “I thought you were being stubborn.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Satine,” Obi-Wan suddenly dropped a mask over himself, Satine could see it through the hologram, “but are your duties overwhelming you?”

“No,” Satine shook her head, “please don’t be mad at me, Ben, I didn’t know what to do and what would happen.”

“You obviously want to keep the baby-”

“Obi-”

“So who will raise it?”

“Them,” Satine corrected, “twin girls.”

Obi-Wan sighed.

“And there’s another thing,” Satine bit her lip, “I’ve been lying to you for nearly eighteen years.”

The Jedi’s brow furrowed, “What?”

“Ben,” the Duchess swallowed, “there are other children.”

Obi-Wan froze, his mouth half-open in shock.

“Four others.”

“You’ve lied to me,” Obi-Wan repeated, “for this long?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

It came out as a whisper, that’s what broke Satine.

“My enemies would’ve claimed I wasn’t Mandalorian and they would've never accepted you as my spouse. And now, I fear they’ll call me a Republic Sympathizer and a hypocrite.”

“You are,” Obi-Wan crossed his arms, “you can’t promote neutrality if you have ties to one side.”

“Padme knows,” Satine argued, “and she’s been ever so helpful.”

Obi-Wan leaned back in shock, “Anakin knows, and Quinlan too.”

“They’ve met the children, they knew immediately.”

The Jedi was mad. Satine could see it.

“I have children, six children,” he asked, “and yet I was the last one to know.”

“Ben-”

Obi-Wan was aghast, “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to compromise your morals.” Satine frowned.

“Morals? Morals! Satine, these are my children!”

“Being a Jedi means everything to you, Obi,” Satine sighed, “I fell in love with the chivalrous knight in you, you would’ve been a completely different person had you left the Order because of me.”

“So you thought about it,” Obi-Wan was suddenly far away, “you thought about saying the word?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t.”

Satine swallowed, she didn’t know how to respond.

Obi-Wan scoffed, “Do you even love me?”

“Ben-”

“No, Satine,” Obi-Wan’s rage finally boiled over, “you made a decision without me, one that affected both of us, and you made the wrong choice.”

“Obi-Wan-”

“You lied to me,” growled the Jedi, tears in his eyes, “I could’ve been a father.”

“You are a father.”

Obi-Wan went silent.

“Do the children know.”

“Yes, I’ll ask if they’d meet with you.”

“I should’ve known them their whole lives,” Obi-Wan balled his fists, “and now I have to meet them like some stranger.”

“Ben-”

“Don’t call me that!”

Satine grew stiff, “Forgive me, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan shook his head.

“I won’t contact you until I’ve returned, Duchess, and then it will only be to meet my children.”

He hung up. He hung up on her. Satine screamed.

”Your Grace!” 

The door burst open, Jaym and Gorg came in, their eyes widened when they came to rest on her stomach.”

“Get my ladies, Jaym,” the Duchess ordered, “and Gorg, go to the Med Ward and ask for Nurse Hera.”

The guards bowed, shutting the door behind them. As soon as the door slammed, Satine burst into tears. Throwing herself back on her mattress, the Duchess pounded her fists on the bed until her cohort arrived.

“Satine,” Khaami gasped, trying to restrain her, “you’re going to be alright.”

“Please,” Parna grabbed Satine’s thrashing legs, “I’m sure he didn’t mean whatever he said.”

Hera began calmly singing to Satine in Mando’a, gently rubbing her thumb on Satine’s palm.

“He said,” the Duchess gasped, “he said he wanted nothing to do with me.”

Parna sighed, “Satine, I think he’s just mad.”

“I had no choice,” the Duchess yelled, “it had to be a secret!”

“Sh,” Khaami brushed Satine’s hair from her eyes, “all will be well.”

“How do you know that?” Satine accused.

Khaami explained, “He’s always been very devoted to you-”

“And when he met you again,” Parna added, “the spark rekindled.”

“You are the mother of his children, Your Grace,” Hera handed Satine a tissue, “you two are bound for life.”

That brought tears to Satine’s eyes, “Ben doesn’t say things lightly.”

“But what did he say exactly?” Parna asked.

“He said the next time he contacted me,” Satine sniffed, “would be only to meet the children.”

A silence fell.

“Well,” Hera handed Satine another tissue, “you have some time right?”

“When I was eighteen I bore him twins,” Satine confessed, “And at twenty I did so again.”

Hera was aghast.

“How-”

“My ladies and a medical droid,” Satine explained, looking to Khaami, “Khaami was there.”

The lady nodded, “Her Grace was very strong.”

“But,” Hera stuttered, “but the birth certificates?”

“We have the real ones,” Parna answered, “they’re hidden.”

There were many things Hera could’ve said or done at that moment, this, Satine was certain of, but what the nurse said was kind.

“I’m so sorry, Satine.”

With a sigh, the Duchess lay back down.

“Let me just check your heartbeat,” Hera stood, going to her bag, “just in case.”

Everything was physically fine with her, but Satine knew Jaym and Gorg would need answers.

“My guards,” Satine turned to Khaami, “have them come in, Hera will stand guard.”

Gorg and Jaym were shocked, so shocked, in fact, that they’re eyes nearly bulged from their sockets when they did a double take of their Duchess.

“Did,” Gorg stuttered, “is this because-”

Jaym was much less confused, “It was the Jedi, wasn’t it?”

“No one can know,” Satine stated firmly, “I will allow no jokes, no snide comments, and certainly no illusions to my romantic acquaintances. Do you understand?”

The guards looked at each other.

“Do you understand?” Satine repeated.

The guards saluted, “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Now,” Satine straightened, “I want you to grant Master Kenobi’s personal shuttle access to all of Mandalorian space.”

“Kenobi,” Jaym’s eyes went wide, “I told you it was Kenobi!”

“Kriffing Kenobi,” Gorg gasped, “the Jedi poster boy?”

Satine raised an eyebrow, “What did I just say?”

Jaym swallowed, “No jokes, snide comments, or romantic allusions of any kind.”

“Correct.”

Gorg sighed before he bowed, “We shall do as Your Grace has ordered.”

Satine’s gaze softened, “Thank you.”

Hera came in as the guards left and collected her bag.

“Sleep well, Satine,” she instructed, “you need your rest.”

“I will.”

Parna said nothing, but hugged the Duchess instead.

“Thank you.” Satine whispered.

“We’re right down the hall if you need anything.” Khaami reiterated.

Satine nodded, and then she was left with her feelings. After an hour, she realized she couldn’t sleep and grabbed her comm. She sent the same message to Mara, Tristan, Tyra (who now had a comm of her own), and Korkie. They likely wouldn’t see it till the morning, but Satine needed it off her conscious that she wasn’t hiding her children from their father.

The Duchess hardly slept at all that night. Some time around 2:30 her body crashed and her eyes refused to open, but she didn’t feel refreshed in the morning when Khaami gently nudged her.

“We let you sleep a little later,” she began, “but there is an urgent matter the council needs you for.”

Groaning, Satine rolled over. She could hear Parna in her closet pulling out clothes.

“Please, Your Grace,” Khaami continued, “it’s about the war.”

“I hate war.” Satine whined, sitting up.

“That’s a good girl,” Khaami rubbed Satine’s back, “now let’s get you ready, you have a big day ahead.”

The corset was painful, as it generally was, but it made the Duchess sit straighter in her throne. She was facing the ruling council and some of the clan heads that lived nearby. Satine felt that her usual uniform of purple and blue was too plain for such a gathering.

The new Prime Minister was actually an old one, Jaru Djarin had never liked Almec, he’d always rubbed her the wrong way. So after his four years were up, Jaru ran against him. Due to obvious reasons, she won.

“Do forgive us for meeting early, Your Grace,” the Prime Minister began, “but the head of the Trade Federation contacted me and specifically expressed displeasure in our situation. He would like to meet and discuss new terms.”

Satine smiled, “This is a good reason for meeting early.”

That was met with a few chuckles.

“We shall most graciously accept the Trade Master’s visit,” Satine decided, “did he give any dates that he’s available?”

And so it was decided, the Trade Master would be arriving in three days. There was much to do. Waldie and her seamstresses worked late to add stiff linings into many of Satine’s dresses. Though none knew why. Satine oversaw the menu and preparations for public appearances. It was also decided that the Trade Master and his delegation would be housed down the hall from Satine, Parna and Khaami would sleep in Satine’s parlor. The Duchess also made a friendly call to her dearest acquaintance, Senator Amidala of Naboo, who had much to say on the Trade Federation and their past dealings.

“Interesting,” Satine nodded, “thank you for your help, Padme.”

“Of course, oh,” Padme paused, “and congratulations.”

“What for?” Satine asked.

“Obi-Wan is being traded for Master Fisto in two months,” Padme suddenly became worried, “I thought you knew.”

A heartbeat passed.

“When did he find out?”

“Anakin mentioned it yesterday afternoon,” the Senator gasped, “Satine, did you and Obi-Wan get in a fight?”

“I told him about the children,” Satine confessed, “and naturally he’s not happy.”

Padme sighed, “I’m sorry, Satine.”

“It’s good to know,” the Duchess tried not to sound hurt, “if he chooses he might attend the birth.”

“He might.” agreed Padme.

After a moment of still silence, Satine thanked Padme for her call and hung up. She cried for a little bit, then went to try on her refurbished dresses.

“These are quite snug.” observed one of the seamstresses.

“They should be,” Waldie replied, “that’s how Her Grace likes it.”

“But Lady Waldie,” another seamstress took out a measuring tape, “these dresses shouldn’t be tight.”

Waldie glanced at Satine, “I don’t see how we did something wrong if Her Grace enjoys the dresses.”

“I do,” Satine said earnestly, “that’s why I ask you to touch them up so often.”

“Work on dresses for the Ladies Khaami and Parna,” Waldie instructed, “I will finish the Duchess’ dress.”

Satine nodded, grateful to the seamstress.

“There are rumors, Your Grace,” Waldie whispered, “that you are expecting.”

The Duchess frowned, “I should start leaving trails of fake blood everywhere.”

Waldie snorted, “I suggest you allow the Duke of Sundari to understudy your work with the Trade Master.”

“It will set everyone straight.” Satine agreed.

Parna giggled and the Duchess turned her head.

“I feel like a princess.” the Lady twirled.

Satine’s mind went to her daughters, the nearly grown ones, they should be princesses. A wave of sadness flowed over the Duchess, she wished her children could be where they should be, could claim their birthrights. Unfortunately, if anyone found out about their father…

“Duchess?”

Satine looked up, “Hm?”

“Your advisors are looking for you.”

“Ah, yes,” Satine straightened, “the security for public appearances.”

Gorg and Jaym were Satine’s top protectors, to be with her always. Now that they knew, it was important that she keep them close to her if they had any questions, or if she was kidnapped. Satine tried not to think about the latter.

“Hello?”

“Hi Headmistress Gren,” Satine smiled even though the woman couldn’t see her, “this is the Duchess Satine.”

“It’s good to hear from you, Your Grace,” the headmistress pleasantly intoned, “your nephew has been doing very well in his classes.”

“That’s good to hear,” Satine’s pride decided, “speaking of which, can Korkie be excused for the next three days, I would like him to be here for the Trade Master’s visit.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” the headmistress agreed, “I always enjoy it when a student gets government experience.”

Satine thanked the headmistress for her time and asked if Korkie could be sent home early.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Headmistress Gren appraised, “you should see him within the hour.”

“Thank you.”

The Duchess smiled to herself, Korkie disliked his fittings, this would be fun. The Duke of Sundari groaned when they approached the sewing rooms.

“Lady Mother,” he whispered, quite agitated, “I can’t stand still for that long.”

“It’ll be quick,” Satine assured, “and if you’re good, you can help me taste the deserts.”

Korkie glowed, “Wonderful.”

In the meantime, Satine instructed Parna to fetch a jar of blueberries and a knife from the kitchen while she and Khaami looked for excess hair brushes.

“Why are we doing this again?” Parna asked.

“To quell the maid’s suspicions,” Satine answered, “I’ve heard they’re worried about the lack of bloody material in my trash cans and laundry.”

Parna grinned, “So we’re going to make fake blood.”

“Blueberries were an excellent choice, Your Grace,” Khaami winked, “how clever you are!”

Satine laughed, “I feel like we’re ancient witches mixing a potion.”

Parna snorted. Khaami grabbed a bowl.

“Okay,” the lady began, “put a bunch of blueberries into this bowl and smash them.”

Satine giggled like a little girl as she took her hairbrush and smashed the blueberries. 

“We need to make sure this is thick enough,”Parna added, “how do we do that?”

Khaami grinned, “My mother-in-law once thickened strawberry compote with cornstarch and water, I bet that would work as well.”

Satine nodded, “Get some.”

They finished smashing the blueberries as Khaami returned. 

“Let’s strain the liquid from the berries,” Parna suggested, turning to Satine, “I’ll hold the bowl if you hold your hands out.”

And so they did, it was messy and fun, Satine even got to lick the leftover berry juice from her hands.

“How proper, Satine.” Parna teased.

Then Khaami added cornstarch to the mixture and filled the jar a quarter full of water.

“Now,” Khaami smiled wickedly, “we drop some of our berries into the mixture.”

Once their job was done, the women conferred and decided their potion needed to be redder. 

“We could put some of my blood in.” Satine suggested.

Parna frowned.

“It would have to be somewhere hidden by your dress,” Khaami agreed, “perhaps your leg?”

So a small slit was made in the Duchess’ leg and added to the foul solution.

“Tomorrow morning we’ll put some on your sheets,” Parna decided, “and some on the back of your nightgown.”

Satine giggled, “That will be fun.”

After cleaning up, the Duchess took the Duke of Sundari down to the kitchens, where they would taste desserts. Korkie was smiling so bright Satine was beginning to wonder if he already had eaten some chocolate.

“Lady,” the Duke burst, “Lady Aunt?”

“Yes?” Satine took a bite of her macaroon.

“I think I have a girlfriend.”

Satine began to cough. Korkie laughed.

“Remember when those exchange students from Cerea came?”

“She’s Cerean?” Satine asked.

“Yes, she likes to draw and we traded numbers,” Korkie said excitedly, “and we’ve been talking ever since.”

“That was two months ago!”

Korkie looked down, shy, “She just asked me to be her boyfriend.”

“Korkyrach Kryze!”

The Duke flinched at the Duchess’ giddy tone.

“Tell me her name!”

“Kara Adi.”

“Pretty,” Satine remarked, “surname?”

“Mundi.”

The Duchess paused for a moment, that name rang a bell.

Satine gasped, “I know her mother, Shea, she was the Cerean representative on trade many years ago!”

“Yeah,” Korkie nodded, “her mother’s retired now.”

The Duchess could not be more pleased.

“So,” Korkie took a bite of cake, “what’s new in your life, Auntie?”

[firemblem-fics]

Running With the Wolves [3]

<< | >>

-> Pairing: Yuri Leclarc x Fem!Reader

-> Modern!Au | Gang!Au | Enemies to Friends to Lovers

-> Word Count: ~2.4k

-> Warnings: Violence, Blood, Intense Scenes, Alcohol Mention, Someone legit gets shot, Other things I probably forgot about

-> Summary: You were just a normal college student, trying to find her way in a new place. You didn't mean to get caught up in the wrong crowd. You just wanted coffee, but now you're running with the wolves.

-> A/N: hi i’m back hello this took me a little bit to do because after the action scene i simply lost motivation but it’s back i know what i want to do and i WILL do it. also, just an fyi, i, as a writer, do not condone anything that my character, Hiram Chapelle, says or does. Hiram is meant to be an ass and for gods sake he’s quite literally a psychopath. That’s how he’s written. I’m just saying for future reference because Hiram is a shitty person and I plan on keeping him that way LOL

send an ask if you’d like to be on the taglist!

If someone had told you, months ago, that when you moved to Fodlan, you’d be accidentally caught up in gang activity, you’d laugh in their faces.

What a silly notion, You’d nearly cry out of laughter, Fodlan is safe. Nothing happens there.

What a fool you were. Everything was too easy. Life was too simple for there not to be a catch. That’s the funny thing about the universe and her strange ways. There’s always a catch.

Your mother had said that God always tests you. That you’d know in hard times, He was just challenging you. The only thing you knew at this moment was that if God really was real, you’d like to have a few choice words with him.

Your test was only getting more difficult with each step you took. Each limp, actually. The frigid night air numbed nearly every part of your body, except for your ankle. Instead, it burned with a fiery intensity. Your shoe was tight enough to prevent a bit of the swelling, but you needed medical attention soon.

You laughed bitterly- you’d been saying that you needed help for a while now. Your arm, your ankle, and now probably a therapist. Physical and mental help were on your to-do list.

Biting back another shiver, you fumbled with your phone. The screen was black, only showing a little red battery in the middle of it. Dead.

The window you’d jumped through was in the back of the house, facing a patch of woods. In your rush, you didn’t think to run another way to get out, only pushing forward until you had no clue where you’d come from and where to go. Everything was forest. Everything was dark.

Until it wasn’t.

A flash of light shined from behind you and you gasped, running to your left and trying to hide behind a larger tree. The flashlights came closer and you held your breath.

“What doesn’t she fucking understand about you can’t leave?”

“Well, boss, you were a little rude about it-“

“She’s in danger! And she doesn’t even realize it- the seriousness of this situation. I don’t care if I’m rude or not, she’s risking her own life being this stupid.”

You resisted the urge to scoff. Yuri was definitely a rude individual from what you’ve interacted with, but of course he didn’t care.

The lights were getting even closer now. You stepped back and started to run again, ignoring the pain. You’d get help when you were safe. You tried to stay light on your feet, but couldn’t help but crush the fallen leaves under your feet as you ran.

“I hear something that way!” Constance shouted and every light flashed in your direction before the group began chasing after you.

Your heart caught in your throat as you willed your legs to work faster and faster. You’d be okay- you’ll get help when you’re safe. Lungs burning, you surged forwards still and tried to take different turns to make them lose your trail. It didn’t work.

“Y/N, stop!” Hapi yelled out.

You didn’t answer, still running. Suddenly, you were airborne. Your feet flew off the ground and you landed two feet in front of a tree root, sticking up from the ground. You were hyperventilating- they had caught up with you.

Before they could reach you, Yuri also stumbled over the root. His flashlight and handgun both flew out of his hands, skidding to a stop in a puddle of mud in front of you. You lurched forward, grabbing the gun and pointing it at the group. It was just Balthus, Hapi, Constance, and Yuri, but you still felt helpless. They could easily overpower you, but you weren’t giving up without a fight.

“Stay back!” You cried, your finger sitting shakily on the trigger, “Don’t come any closer!”

Hapi put her hands up. “We don’t want to hurt you- we want to keep you safe!”

“Keep me safe? By making me some bad guy in a gang that I never even asked to be a part of?”

Yuri scoffed and tried to step closer, but you quickly aimed the gun at him. “You think we did?”

“No more. Don’t come close, I’m warning you.” You could only utter a few words.

The leader of the Wolves ignored this, putting his hands out in front of him, “Drop the gun and this will be okay-“

“STAY AWAY!” You were screaming at this point. Everyone tried to shush you, but you couldn’t stop. Hysteria did such cruel things.

“Y/N-“

“NO!”

You closed your eyes and pulled the trigger, your arm injury hurting slightly from the recoil. Constance yelled out, grabbing onto Yuri, who seemed to fall in slow motion. Your head was spinning. Stars seemed to twinkle in the trees and bushes in front of you instead of staying in the sky like they should.

You swayed for a moment, watching the three try to help their leader. Blood seeped out of the right side of his abdomen. You tried to stay awake, but soon the gun fell out of your hand and you went limp beside it.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Your mind was awake before your body. You could feel the velvet sheets beneath your fingertips and smell the comforting french vanilla aroma that wafted through the Wolves’s house. It was warm- almost too warm for your comfort. Or maybe it was the fever you were running from stress.

You tried to smack your lips together, cringing when the inside of your mouth resembled that of a desert. You needed water.

Peeling your eyes open, you groaned. The lamp beside the bed was too bright, contrasting greatly against the still-dark sky. How long were you out?

You sat up on the bed, feeling sore, but brushed it off and trudged towards the door. You opened it and headed towards the stairs when you heard voices in a room across from you, two doors down.

“She’s already caused too much harm. I say we let her go and let natural selection take its course.”

You scoffed. Typical Hiram- rude ass.

“No- no. We brought her into this, the universe has basically ordered us to keep her safe. If any Eagles see her on the street, she’s done for.” Hapi reasoned.

“That might be a good thing-“

“Hiram-“

“She shot Yuri! He’s not waking up because of her!”

The silence that followed his outburst made your heart clench. You didn’t mean to actually hit him- you just meant it as a warning shot. Hell, you didn’t even know your aim was that good.

“He’s going to be fine. In the meantime, we need to contact Claude or Dimitri and see what’s happening.”

Claude? Claude, the boy at the pizza shop? You rolled your eyes. Of course he’d be a part of this- whatever this is.

“What if they’re siding with her?” Constance asked worriedly.

“Trust me, if it’s anything that Claude’s against, it’s an imbalance of power. As for Dimitri, I’m not sure.”

Your hands began to shake again and you blinked rapidly, trying to push away the looming realization that no, this wasn’t a joke, and yes, these college kids are in a fucking gang. You supposed a part of you didn’t want to believe it until now, but it crashed onto you like a bag of bricks.

These people have hurt others. Killed them. You hurt someone too- you shot a man. A man who apparently is trying to keep you safe.

Continuing to blink, this time biting back tears, you walked down the stairs into the kitchen. Grabbing a glass from the counter, you filled it up in the sink and began chugging.

One glass.

Two.

Maybe if it was alcohol, you’d feel a little better. But it wasn’t. And you didn’t.

More footsteps resounded from the stairs, making their way through the living room and into the kitchen. Hapi entered first, followed by the other four. She gave you a tight smile, choosing to mess with some papers that still rested on the kitchen table.

The papers were frenzied and unorganized- they must have really rushed out once they realized that you’d left.

Hiram walked past and bumped your shoulder rather harshly, making you spill your third glass of water down the front of your shirt. You hissed, wanting nothing more than to yank out those snowy locks of his, but he was definitely armed and no doubt dangerous. You valued your life a little too much to mess with the little man.

Eventually, the group sat down at the table and Hapi patted her hand on the wood, pointing to the empty chair across from her. “Please, Y/N, sit.”

You did so, awkwardly, clasping your hands and putting them in your lap. You didn’t want to look up, already feeling the five intense stares burn into your form.

“It seems our first little talk wasn’t as… effective as it needed to be.” The redheaded girl began. “You were seen with us in the cafe when Edelgard attacked. You let your mouth run, disrespecting her. And I can assure you right now, that the Eagles have all the details on you. Especially since one of their own seemed to recognize you. Like it or not, you’re in this now.”

Hiram snorted, leaning back on his chair and nonchalantly checking his nails. “You’re stuck with this, toots. If you didn’t want to be, you should’ve stuck behind everyone like a good little coward and let the big dogs fight over the bone. You could’ve easily been seen as a citizen and an innocent bystander, but no. Something in you said ‘hey, let’s be a bitch to these people who suddenly barged in here with guns’. If I didn’t know any better, it would seem to me like you were practically,” He leaned forward, his icy eyes boring into your own, “asking for it.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, but still kept shut. He wasn’t necessarily wrong, you could’ve easily decided to let the obviously-more-experienced people deal with it, but in your defense, you didn’t know at the time! You didn’t even think your 5 second long conversation with this Edelgard chick was as negative as they made it out to be.

Crossing your arms, you willed your face to remain stoic. “I just don’t see why she’d have it out for me. I didn’t even do anything that bad.”

“Look, look at my face.” Hiram pointed to the bridge of his nose, where a deep, pale pink scar contrasted against his skin. “Rhys and I used to be… involved with them. Her little lap dog- Ferdinand- did this. Because I made some ill-timed joke.”

You couldn’t help but glance over at Rhys, whose eyes had darkened at the mention of his past. The mention of Ferdinand’s name and his affiliation with the Eagles made you wonder about everyone’s past- how exactly did all of these people get involved with such a deadly life? You didn’t have much time to dwell on it before Balthus spoke up.

“Listen, little one, just stay here and chill out until we can a hundred percent confirm that the Eagles aren’t associating you with us. If they’re not, you’re free to go.”

“And if I am?”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”

Everyone at the table gasped and turned around to the kitchen entrance, where the strained voice had come from. Yuri was leaned up against the door frame, holding onto his side still. His torso was bare, but the skin was covered by bandages and gauze.

The Wolves shot up out of their seats, rushing over to their leader.

“Yuri!”

“Why are you up?”

“You need rest.”

Yuri just chuckled at them, hiding a wince as his stomach contracted with the laugh. “I’m fine, I’m fine, everything’s cool. Not the first time.”

You still sat at the table, watching as they helped him sit in his place at the head before going back to their own seats. The Wolves really seemed to care about each other, you noticed, and felt a small pang of guilt for causing them so many problems already.

“So, Yuri-Bird, I was explaining to everyone earlier that our best choice of action is to contact Dimitri and Claude and see what’s happening in their little sectors of the world.” Hapi folded her hands on the table, “I know with about a 90% certainty that Claude will be against whatever Edelgard’s doing. Dimitri, I’m not so sure.”

Yuri nodded, taking in the information. “We need stronger people going to Dimitri, then, just in case he sided with her.”

“Which is why I decided that it would be best for all of us to go together. Dimitri has that one assassin with him- the Black Cat or whatever his alias is.”

“It’s Felix. I wouldn't forget the name of such a hunk of a man.” Hiram practically swooned.

Hapi rolled her eyes. “...Right. So, we start with Claude and then move on to Dimitri.”

Rhys raised his hand for a moment, making Hiram shush everyone. He said nothing, only jutting a thumb at you as if asking ‘what do we do about this chick?’ The room was quiet for a moment, then Constance clapped her hands together.

“She can stay and take care of Yuri!”

“What?” You and the previously mentioned man cried out.

He turned and glared at you. “You lot are going to entrust my healing to the same bitch that shot me? No. I’m coming with you all.”

Balthus shook his head. “She’s right, Boss. You could barely walk down here. You need to rest before you get back in the game.”

“Yeah,” Hiram began to laugh, “I’m sure Miss Girl will fix you right up. Maybe she’s better at caretaking than she is running away.”

You returned Yuri’s glare, but quickly switched it to Hiram. He lost his smile and quirked up an eyebrow, as if challenging you to say something. You didn’t.

“We leave tomorrow morning at 8 o’clock. Yuri, you sleep in. Y/N, be up early to change his bandages.”

Hapi stood and stretched, letting out a large yawn before walking out of the kitchen.

The rest of the group followed, Yuri lagging behind as Balthus helped him walk. His lavender eyes pierced into you, obviously extremely angry at you. You shuddered. You absolutely did not want to be alone with him tomorrow.

Dreading morning, you went to your room and tucked yourself back under the velvet sheets, watching the hall light turn off and listening to Hiram’s annoying voice echo throughout the walls.

“Goodnight y’all! Sweet dreams- except for the Princess, of course.”

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taglist: @fairyblue-alchemist @emperor-pizza @flavoredmilktea @sadies-stories-n-things @blviddyd @laurexlance @atomicchocolatecookie @mapesandoval @local-goth-lilz 

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[dragonrajafanfiction]

“I can’t imagine this place being used for anything good, not with all that blood all over the walls.” 

N

“To err is human, to dream divine."

W anyone ya want to really^^

You’re standing in the pouring rain. It’s raining so hard you can barely keep your eyes open. The heavy, relentless drops are beating on you, dozens of times per second, and despite your attempt at preparation - a bright yellow poncho that you snagged at the last dingy rest stop on the way to this godforsaken piece of no-mans-land - you’re soaked through anywhere  that peeked out. Your hands, are wet and icy cold. So is your face and you’re starting to get soaked through your collar.

The dark sky turned white with a few flashes of lightning. Shadows of the surrounding dense forests reached into the heavens behind the two story antebellum mansion. It loomed over the flat land with a menacing presence. Its formal gleaming whitewashed façade was darkened by climbing ivy. Its painted columns were running with cracks. The wood was split underneath like shattered old bones.

You shiver with more than just cold. 

Your professors looked at you in confused sympathy when you entered Cassell College. You barely passed the 3E exam as a base C-Rank.  Professor Schneider passed your name on the list of potential commissioners and you were happy to spend your days examining your love of ancient Aztec art in the hopes of specializing in MesoAmerican Archeaology.

Of course, you passed all the classics on dragon genetics and weapons engineering but with the most useless Soul Skill on all of Campus, you figured you’d hardly matter when it came to dragon slaying.

Norma told you in a forced optimistic voice that only two other hybrids had been documented with the Soul-Skill Devour. It meant that the user could make themselves immune to all toxins and could digest anything they swallowed. It may sound neat on the surface, however, it didn’t change the fact that a person might not want to eat odd things or that it would taste and feel terrible going down.

Because it is such a weak Soul Skill and it was documented, your Soul Skill ended up on public record. You spent the rest of your college days being known as the student who could ‘eat shit and NOT die’ and fielding dares to swallow everything from the most toxic substances to the most disgusting, and fielding invitations to the Gear Department for what was presumably lunch as well as testing.

So when you got the summons to report to the Executive Department, you thought it was a joke and didn’t bother replying until you got a second email explaining that if you didn’t show up you would be expelled. 

“All Cassell College Alumni must have an internship and participate in missions for graduation.” Norma patiently explained to you as you received the mission. “Even though your major is in archeology, you are expected to complete a mission for the college.”

Sure. Whatever. You got onto the big black helicopter and left the college, expecting a normal mission where you hopefully ‘stood watch’ or something easy, just to check a box on your resume at graduation. What you didn’t expect was to be met by Caesar Gattuso, the President of the Student Union, once you got off the aircraft.

Even as he reclined in the front seat of a camouflage colored military jeep, he looked every bit the veteran. He was staring at the tablet with his intense blue gaze. A hint of stubble lit his chin in a faint blond halo. The door of the Jeep was open and you could see that he was dressed in Camo pants under the white tank-tee that was already getting sticky with sweat in the humid air of the southern United States.

He didn’t bother looking up at you or explaining anything. He closed the application with a deft swipe of his long fingers and looked at you. No doubt he stamped you with the same label of “Useless baggage” as everyone else did. Silently, those eyes scanned down and then back up again. And then his eyebrows rose -- you imagined a little ‘ding’ sound as his calculations spit out a result.

Much to your surprise, he grinned.

Caesar was used to much higher level people groveling at his feet for his favor, trying their best to get a word in, trying their best to get a little bit of approval from him. Here he was completely alone, save a single person -- you -- who simply had no hope of rising to anything but the podium to reach out, take your diploma and disappear into obscurity.

So sure. Laugh it up, golden boy. You return his smile with none of the brightness and shrug.

You have one duffle bag of supplies but it was basic. A pistol of Frigg and live ammunition, a change of clothes, a first aid kit, a two way radio and flares. You tossed it in the back of the Jeep and got into the passenger seat.

“We have a report of what may be a backwoods cult that has forbidden dragon artifacts. The Cultists I’ll have no issue with. So don’t worry about it.”

“I wasn’t planning to. You’re the expert, not me. I just need this to graduate.”

He shifted the jeep into gear. The tires crunched against gravel before pulling out on to smooth surface. “You remind me of someone else. Don’t you aspire to more?”

“It’s not really possible.”

Caesar huffed, his eyes narrowing. “That’s only because of how you view things.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes. That was so easy for him to say. He was A-ranked, rich, famous. You were none of those things. Under your yearbook photo they should put the caption ‘just happy to be here’.

The road disappeared under a glowing emerald canopy of white oak, sumac and locust trees. The greenery crowded onto the road, and the car was kept corraled by a single rusty guardrail as the surrounding plants scraped at it. But Caesar pumped the accelerator and hugged the curves, weaving this way and that as the tension rose up your entire body. You found yourself gripping the seat and praying that no one would come swinging round the blind curves in the opposite direction and hit you head on.

Still, you didn’t feel you could ask him to slow down.

As the sunse, and you climbed the tall mountain toward your destination, the temperature noticeably cooled and you felt a chill. At the rest stop, you bought the poncho and felt the first drop of rain on your way back in to the jeep.

“So it’s true you don’t get nauseous?” Caesar asked you.  He didn’t look at you, but he was looking at a map. A red dot marked a spot, likely where they were supposed to go.

“It’s not that I don’t get nauseous, it’s that I can’t get poisoned and I can digest anything so long as I can get it down.”

“Hmmm...” Caesar rubbed his chin.

“Are you trying to think of something useful for me to do?”

Before you could think of anything else to say, you stared down the barrel of the Desert Eagle. You leap to get away, adrenaline rushing and tell you to escape, but before you could reach for the door handle, the barrel flashed and the car filled with gun residue. You grunt as the Frigg bullet shattered and sent its medication rushing through your blood stream.  Your eyes burn golden and you double over, fighting the sudden dizziness and fatigue. “You... you asshole...” “That’s what I thought. You’re not affected by Frigg bullets.” 

Frigg bullets contained an extremely powerful sedative and you could barely see. Not affected is a misnomer! You’re still affected you just get over it! You didn’t remember Caesar pulling out of the gas station until you were well on your way to the top of the mountains and it had started to rain.

“You still with me?”

“Yeah...” You rasp, cursing him a million times in your heart. You reached for a bottle of water that you had stashed.

“Not being effected by Frigga Bullets is a big deal. You shouldn’t sell yourself short.”

You stared at him in disbelief. He was smug, happy with his little experiment, even though you can throw that up on the pile of countless other experiments your fellow students had performed on you. “God,... I just wanna graduate.” You whisper.

Now, standing at the entrance of a massive mansion you realize you have no idea how to fight. Just because you could withstand frigg bullets didn’t mean you could withstand regular ones.

Caesar’s eyes burned golden and ghostly figures, like grim reapers, flew from his body. He stood, unbothered by the rain, listening. You hold your breath, not wanting to interfere. 

“Looks like the place is empty. Let’s go.”

The steps were rotting and soft, bowing dangerously under your feet. On the porch, a rusty metal swing creaked in a gusty wind. Caesar lifted one leg and kicked the door right in. It swung back on the hinges and Caesar entered, eyes behind his gun despite the lack of life signs.

The first thing you smell is rust or copper. You can taste it on your tongue, like licking a battery. As you step inside onto the linoleum floor, your shoes lightly adhere to it. Each step made a sound like someone peeling wallpaper. A double staircase arched gracefully in front of you and framed a painting of a man in a suit, a woman in a traditional southern dress and a small dog, like a Doberman, sitting between them.

Looking left, the walls were streaked black and looking down, you realize the black continued on the floor where you were stepping. The lightning flashed and revealed the dark brown all over the floor.

“I can’t imagine this place being used for anything good, not with all that blood all over the walls.” Caesar said.

[fuzzywitchsoul]

They Had Mild Covid. Then Their Serious Symptoms Kicked In.

Pam Belluck is a health and science writer whose honors include sharing a Pulitzer Prize and winning the Nellie Bly Award for Best Front Page Story. She is the author of Island Practice, a book about an unusual doctor. @PamBelluckMs. Khan said that she experienced “heart palpitations if I just got up to open the curtains.” Her cardiologist said she was the fifth previously healthy young person to walk into his office that week. In the beginning, her fatigue was so severe that walking two or three laps around her 600-square-foot apartment would exhaust her for the rest of the day. In addition, she said that she had “really intense mood fluctuations that don’t feel like they’re mine.”“Waking up every day in this body, sometimes hope feels a little dangerous,” said Ms. Khan, who will soon start the cognitive rehab program. “I have to wonder: Am I going to recover, or am I going to just figure out how to live with my new brain?”In his job, “my clients would tell me things like a passcode or an address and I couldn’t remember it,” he said.At Mr. Palacios’s first appointment with the Northwestern clinic, “I did the cognitive tests, and I failed them all,” he said. On a return visit, he did another battery of tests, he said, “and I didn’t do so hot on that, either.”Mr. Palacios was referred for cognitive rehab at a long-established program in Chicago that helps give patients strategies to manage and improve memory, organizational and cognitive difficulties. But he didn’t go, he said, because “I completely forgot.” He plans to go now.In the Northwestern study, 43 percent of the patients had depression before having Covid-19; 16 percent had previous autoimmune diseases, the same percentage of patients who had previous lung disease or had struggled with insomnia.Experts cautioned that because the study was relatively small, these pre-existing conditions might or might not be representative of all long-term patients. “We are all seeing very small pieces of the elephant in terms of the long Covid group,” Dr. Bell said. “Some of us are seeing tail; some of us are seeing trunk.”Along with neurological symptoms, 85 percent of the patients were experiencing fatigue, and nearly half had shortness of breath. Some also had chest pain, gastrointestinal symptoms, variable heart rate or blood pressure. Nearly half of the participants were experiencing depression or anxiety.“I was cleaning my gutters and I forgot where I was, I forgot what I was doing on the roof,” Mr. Palacios said. When he remembered, he added, the idea of doing “something as simple as climbing on a ladder all of a sudden became a mountain.”Dr. Allison P. Navis, a neuro-infectious disease specialist at Mount Sinai Health System in New York City who was not involved in the study, said that about 75 percent of her 200 post-Covid patients were experiencing issues like “depression, anxiety, irritability or some mood symptoms.”Participants in the study were overwhelmingly white, and 70 percent were women. Dr. Navis and others said that the lack of diversity quite likely reflected the demographics of people able to seek care relatively early in the pandemic rather than the full spectrum of people affected by post-Covid neurological symptoms.“Especially in New York City, the majority of patients who got sick with Covid are people of color and Medicaid patients, and that’s absolutely not the patients one sees at the post-Covid center,” Dr. Navis said. “The majority of patients are white, often they have private insurance, and I think we have to figure out a little bit more what’s going on there with those disparities — if it’s purely just a lack of access or are symptoms being dismissed in people of color or if it’s something else.”In the Northwestern study, Dr. Koralnik said that because coronavirus testing was difficult to obtain early in the pandemic, only half of the participants had tested positive for the coronavirus, but all had the initial physical symptoms of Covid-19. The study found very little difference between those who had tested positive and those who had not. Dr. Koralnik said that those who tested negative tended to contact the clinic about a month later in the course of the disease than those who tested positive, possibly because some had spent weeks being evaluated or trying to have their problems addressed by other doctors.Ms. Khan was among the participants who had a negative test for the virus, but she said she later tested positive for coronavirus antibodies, proof that she had been infected.Another study participant, Eddie Palacios, 50, a commercial real estate broker who lives in Naperville, a Chicago suburb, tested positive for the coronavirus in the fall, experiencing only a headache and loss of taste and smell. But “a month later, things changed,” he said.Across the country, doctors who are treating people with post-Covid neurological symptoms say the study’s findings echo what they have been seeing.“We need to take this seriously,” said Dr. Kathleen Bell, the chairwoman of the physical medicine and rehabilitation department at the University Texas Southwestern Medical Center, who was not involved in the new study. “We can either let people get worse and the situation gets more complicated, or we can really realize that we have a crisis.”Dr. Bell and Dr. Koralnik said many of the symptoms resembled those of people who had concussions or traumatic brain injuries or who had mental fogginess after chemotherapy.In the case of Covid, Dr. Bell said, experts believe that the symptoms are caused by “an inflammatory reaction to the virus” that can affect the brain as well as the rest of the body. And it makes sense that some people experience multiple neurological symptoms simultaneously or in clusters, Dr. Bell said, because “there’s only so much real estate in the brain, and there’s a lot of overlap” in regions responsible for different brain functions.“If you have inflammation disturbances,” she said, “you can very well have cognitive effects and things like emotional effects. It’s really hard to have one neurological problem without having multiple.”In the Northwestern study, many experienced symptoms that fluctuated or persisted for months. Most improved over time, but there was wide variation. “Some people after two months are 95 percent recovered, while some people after nine months are only 10 percent recovered,” said Dr. Koralnik. Five months after contracting the virus, patients estimated, they felt on average only 64 percent recovered.The study of 100 patients from 21 states, published on Tuesday in The Annals of Clinical and Translational Neurology, found that 85 percent of them experienced four or more neurological issues like brain fog, headaches, tingling, muscle pain and dizziness.“We are seeing people who are really highly, highly functional individuals, used to multitasking all the time and being on top of their game, but, all of a sudden, it’s really a struggle for them,” said Dr. Igor J. Koralnik, the chief of neuro-infectious diseases and global neurology at Northwestern Medicine, who oversees the clinic and is the senior author of the study.The report, in which the average patient age was 43, underscores the emerging understanding that for many people, long Covid can be worse than their initial bouts with the infection, with a stubborn and complex array of symptoms.This month, a study that analyzed electronic medical records in California found that nearly a third of the people struggling with long Covid symptoms — like shortness of breath, cough and abdominal pain — did not have any signs of illness in the first 10 days after they tested positive for the coronavirus. Surveys by patient-led groups have also found that many Covid survivors with long-term symptoms were never hospitalized for the disease.A new study illuminates the complex array of neurological issues experienced by people months after their coronavirus infections.

In the fall, after Samar Khan came down with a mild case of Covid-19, she expected to recover and return to her previous energetic life in Chicago. After all, she was just 25, and healthy.

But weeks later, she said, “this weird constellation of symptoms began to set in.”

She had blurred vision encircled with strange halos. She had ringing in her ears, and everything began to smell like cigarettes or Lysol. One leg started to tingle, and her hands would tremble while putting on eyeliner.

She also developed “really intense brain fog,” she said. Trying to concentrate on a call for her job in financial services, she felt as if she had just come out of anesthesia. And during a debate about politics with her husband, Zayd Hayani, “I didn’t remember what I was trying to say or what my stance was,” she said.

By the end of the year, Ms. Khan was referred to a special clinic for Covid-related neurological symptoms at Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago, which has been evaluating and counseling hundreds of people from across the country who are experiencing similar problems.

Now, the clinic, which sees about 60 new patients a month, in-person and via telemedicine, has published the first study focused on long-term neurological symptoms in people who were never physically sick enough from Covid-19 to need hospitalization, including Ms. Khan.

[kinghoranshit]

Just Another Normal Story (HS) - PT 4

I cradled our daughter, Harmony, in my arms. I felt exhausted. It’d been the two days since she came into the world the morning of November sixth. 

A conclusion I came to about all of this was, at least it was happening when the weather's getting colder. Zombies couldn’t handle that, right? And we had the fireplace to keep the house heated if the power went out completely. We had no cable or internet though. 

“Nichole,” My dad’s firm voice filled my head. 

I looked over at him and he was giving me that look. 

“Dad.” I shot him a look.

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “We’re running out of food.” 

I shook my head. “No, not yet.” 

“Come on, Follow me.” My dad tilted his head toward the doorway.

I looked down at sleeping Harmony. I didn’t want to let her go. 

“You need to see what he has. I’ll take her,” my mother stated. 

Finally, I nodded and handed her over to my mom. 

We went down to the basement into his workshop and he handed something to me. The wooden crossbow I used three years in a row for my Halloween costume in high school. I had been a zombie slayer. Ironic, I know. 

I didn’t know why he handed this to me. It didn’t work. It was broken last I knew. But as I glanced at it in my hands, it looked brand new. 

“You fixed it up? Why?” I asked. 

“For you to use,” he remarked. “Become that zombie slayer.” 

I laughed. “Dad, it was just a costume and a joke. We both know I’m too scared of zombies.” 

“I’m scared of zombies too. But killing them takes it away little by little. Here.” He now handed a bag of metal arrows to me. 

“I don’t even know how to use this!” I exclaimed, trying to shove it back into his hands. 

“I’ll teach you. It’s not hard. Just a pull of a trigger and putting the arrow in is a piece of cake. One of the quickest reloading weapons.”

I shook my head. “This is fucking nuts.”

“What’re you going to do when you run out of supplies for Harmony? What if I end up dying?”

I kept my mouth shut. I already knew the answer. I felt this certain feeling surging from deep within my chest. The adrenaline kicked in at the thought of stepping foot out of the barricaded house. I hadn’t seen what it looked like in two days. It could be completely different. Or the same. Probably the same.

“Got anything I can practice on?” I asked. 

***

I wiped the gleam of sweat off my forehead as I panted. I walked over to take the metal arrow out of the bullseye target that had a botchy sketch of a zombie tacked onto it. My goal was to get in the forehead. And if the arrow didn’t go all the way through, I’d have to get up close and personal. 

“Nichole!” Harry called. 

“Yeah?” I yelled back, loading another arrow into the crossbow. She worked well. After a couple hours, I’d gotten pretty decent. Not sure I was good enough to go out yet. Well, mentally anyway. This surely would lead to major therapy in the future if we survived and somehow a cure came about. I already couldn’t sleep much, worried they’d break down the barriers and overtake us. 

“We’re out of diapers.” His figure appeared at the doorway of the garage. I could hear them outside every once and awhile. I was positive they could smell me through the metal door. 

I stared at him a bit blankly. “We can’t be.” 

“But we are,” he remarked. 

I felt my heart lurch into my throat. It wasn’t like I expected us to just hide away in the house forever. I was hopeful of it, but knew we couldn’t. It wasn’t realistic. 

I sighed heavily, grabbing the satchel of arrows, and continued to hold the crossbow in my hands. I walked in past him and into the living room. My mom was on the couch still, holding a giggly Harmony. 

“C’mon, Nikki, we’re going to Target,” my dad ordered, reloading his shotgun. 

“What? Just us two?” I shot.

He nodded. “Yeah. Harry will stay here with mom and Harmony.” 

“No, no, no.” I shook my head. “That’s a bad idea. We should stick together.” 

“We can’t take a baby out there,” my mom argued. “It’s too cold.” 

The thought from earlier popped back into my head.

“If it’s too cold for her, wouldn’t it be too cold for the zombies?” But I knew as soon as the words left my mouth, it was a no. “Nevermind.”

But then the thought of this thing from ‘Warm Bodies’ came into my head. “Do you think putting zombie guts on us would prevent them from smelling us? That way we can get more when we go to Target. We wouldn’t have to watch out as much.”

“That might work.” My dad nodded. “Harry, mom, and Harmony are still staying here.” 

I huffed in annoyance. I just had a bad feeling with them not being in my sight for so long. 

***

I pulled the green army jacket on over my blue plaid shirt. That which I wore with a grey tank underneath, denim skinnies, and brown combats. Why not? I never thought I’d actually wear this outfit again, but it seemed like an essential thing to do under the circumstances. My acting as a zombie slayer days were over. I was going to be one. 

Harry pressed his lips against mine. “Be careful. I’ve got it here.” 

I gave him a weak smile. “Remember, if too many happen to break in, kill the first one you see and put the guts on you. Then mom and Harmony. Mom has a pistol she can use.” 

He nodded and kissed me once more. I rested my hand on the back of his neck, holding him there. I wanted to feel his lips for as long as I could. It could be for the last time.

“I love you,” I whispered. 

He nuzzled his face into my hair. “I love you too.” 

I walked over to my mom and Harmony. I kissed my daughter’s head and looked into her big, very dark blue eyes. “Mommy has to go get you things. See you soon.” I looked at my mom and she had tears brimming her eyes. There was no way she was going to take my place. She didn’t have the agility to sprint or run long distances since her major car accident a few years back; she had to get medical nails in her ankle. 

“Stay safe.” 

I gave her a small smile. “Of course.” 

We left in my dad’s Ford F150 truck. I had my crossbow ready to shoot down any so they wouldn’t get into the garage. Luckily, Harry had the garage shut before any got in. I sat back down and shut my window. 

“How much gas?” I asked. My dad never really kept track of that sort of thing. 

“Three-fourths.”

I nodded. “Okay. Good. That should be good for a couple trips. But remember, we want to get as much as we can in this one trip.”

“I know,” he replied. 

I didn’t say anything else. I looked out the window. It seemed especially gloomy today. The sky was full of grey clouds, casting a white hue over everything. I could see a few moving figures as he drove. It wasn’t a long drive to Target. Only fifteen minutes. But every minute I was preparing myself. 

“Here’s the plan.” My dad turned the truck off. “You go ahead and get everything for Harmony. I’ll get the food. Remember to use the crossbow, and test your theory if possible. Got it?”

I let out a deep breath. “Yeah.” I reached back for the two duffels. I strapped one across my chest. This should be fun. 

It was dead silent as we walked into the dim lighted Target; must be barely powered by a generator. The glass of the doors had been shattered, so our boots crunched on the pieces. I mentally cursed. Here’s hoping that sound wouldn’t provoke any zombies that could be nearby. 

I wish the baby supplies weren’t set in the back part of the entire store. If I do run into a zombie, testing my theory would be the first thing I do. I made sure the walkie-talkie was still harnessed onto one of the loops.

“See you soon,” he whispered, splitting off, and left me alone. Nichole, don’t let your fear take over. You can protect yourself. Doing this for Harmony and Harry. 

I went for the smaller stuff first-- onesies, socks, shoes, blankets, pacifiers, baby wipes, toys. I wasn’t entirely positive what she all needs right now. I was just glad we didn’t need to get a crib; my parents had one for when John and Ellise visited. Oh God. I hope they’re okay. And Leo! He was no longer in Iowa as well. I didn’t want to think the worst but I already was considering we hadn’t heard from them at all. The satellite towers went out yesterday. It wouldn’t be long until our power was out I assumed, so we should grab extra batteries and candles. 

I zipped the duffel shut to make sure everything was secured. Next, I grabbed my last item, which would be the biggest and wouldn’t fit in the duffel. I held my crossbow up, ready to aim and shoot. I made fast and quiet movements to where the diapers were. My blood stopped cold hearing a shuffling sound. 

I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath. I turned around to see a guy who couldn’t be much older than me standing there. He was eyeing me good. His icy blue veins popped out all over the place. He growled at me. 

Despite my previous fear towards zombies, I couldn’t help a smirk. “Want me?” 

His eyes grew even more wide as he overlooked me more. I held my crossbow up and aimed for the middle of his head. Closing one eye to get better radar. There was another screeching sound.

Fuck. 

I pulled the trigger, watching the arrow fly and sink into the guy’s head. I tripped my way over to him, pierced it in even more just to be sure before yanking it out. I reloaded the crossbow with the same arrow and frantically rolled onto my back to aim. She was right above me. I could see the brain matter still attached to the cold metal and without a second though, I glided my fingers over it. The gooey sensation was not pleasant when it hit me. The smell wasn’t either as I wiped it onto my face; it was like expired dairy and throw up all in one. Gross as hell but worth it as I saw the skinny lady sniff the air, confused. She looked displeased when she couldn’t smell what she did before.

Slowly, I sidestepped around her and then bolted to find my dad. I grabbed the walkie-talkie. 

“Dad? Do you copy?” 

I didn’t get an answer then I could hear some cries and yells. Oh no. 

I sprinted the fastest I had ever in my life, looking down every aisle of food. Finally, I found him in the bread. Four or five zombies were going at him. It didn’t matter how it happened, I needed to do something. 

I held my crossbow up, aiming for one as I stalked towards them. I pulled the trigger and didn’t wait. I reloaded with another and aimed once again. I took down another. Now, just two were left. My dad still fought with the one holding onto his coat. So, I took down the other trying to help her boyfriend on their date. 

My dad smashed the zombie’s head into the shelf a couple times and his body fell limp. I reached my hand out and he gladly took it.

“The guts thing works?” he panted. I noted the scratch on his face and hoped that the virus didn’t transfer that way.

I nodded. “Yeah. Killed one over by the baby stuff.”

“I told you could get good with the bow.” He cheesed, picking up his shotgun and duffle. 

I rolled my eyes. “You got everything?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, I still need diapers. We should also get candles and toilet paper if there’s any left. Let’s grab em and get out of here.” 

“Don’t forget Gander.” 

Right…

***

I used a different walkie-talkie to contact Harry when we were back in the driveway. “Hey, we’re back. Open the garage.” 

“Okay,” he replied briefly.

The garage door opened and my dad pulled in. Harry was quick to get it closing. Once it was shut and we were in the clear, we carried everything inside. We grabbed like ten boxes of diapers. Each carried five out. Didn’t have to worry about zombies attacking us since we didn’t smell like food.

I went to kiss Harry, but he stepped back. “Please clean up first.” 

I smiled slyly before I grabbed his face and rubbed his cheek against mine. Nothing was going to transfer since it was dry. 

“Thank you so much, Nikki,” Harry retorted, dramatically wiping his face. He was definitely pleased to see no crud on his fingers. 

“You’re welcome.”

Next and final: 5

[Masterlist]

[leather-n-laces]

in case you missed it: my 2020

so I’ve been gone for like...a year almost. I did log on time to time to respond to messages bc I didn’t want to ghost anyone. Some of you know what’s up, others dont so if you’re curious. 

THE BAD

2020 was a bad bad bad year personally. LIKE BAD. Shit with my family culminated in me and my bf almost being homeless because my mother was upset that sometimes I would make dinner for just my boyfriend and she would have to cook for herself/my father. SO just getting that out of the way right off. I wont be listing individual instances bc ew.

march 2020: fell, fractured my knee cap - I get a not so great doctor

mid march 2020: ontario goes into a state of emergency due to covid, every closes for a month. I can’t walk ( in a zimmer splint ) and everything is closed. Literally everything

june 2020: I’m walking without the cast now but ouchie. I have atrophied muscles in leg/knee, still can’t get in touch with a doctor. Since COVID numbers aren’t really going down and I’m in the ‘at risk category’ due to pre-existing conditions, I’m still on lockdown. My dog also underwent emergency surgery to remove a tumor growing on her abdomen. 

july-august 2020: finally get to see the doctor, told I need A LOT of physio. I’m not covered and not having worked, couldn’t afford the $1k it would cost. By this time I am also severely, severely depressed. I’m either not eating or binge eating, not sleeping, I spend most every day in a state of panic over everything. I do not/cannot start physio but I also cannot work a 8hr shift on this leg

august-october 2020: tbh this is kind of a blur. We got a vehicle finally. finally. see above re: my family is mental this was a big deal. My depression was easily at its worst. I’m not working, can’t do physio, scared of going back to work without it. I was a wreck. I was also getting tired of of being a wreck. I talk to some close friends on going on antidepressants.

thanksgiving 2020: I talk to my doctor and she says it sounds like I could benefit from antidepressants and I start a prescription. Jersey ( my little dog who had surgery in the spring) is sick with a minor infection. 

november 2020: it’s like a fog has lifted and I feel...human. For the first time in my whole life I feel normal. I’m on my full dosage now and my mood has stabilized. I can FUNCTION. I don’t panic about things as much, I’m calmer, I can ‘control’ my thoughts infinitely better and even on the bad days intrusive thoughts are gone or just barely there.

december 2020: we’re tackling my sleep now, still not working (sort of due to fear) jersey is sick. The week before Christmas I end up having to put Jersey down. She went in for constipation, but after having a battery of tests and x-rays done the vet discovered her lungs were filled with tumors. She’s 13 and another surgery would be extremely extremely expensive not to mention incredibly difficult for her, if she survived it her quality of life would be next to none. 

christmas 2020: my bf and I have to get tested for COVID because I’m sick. (we were both negative) 

---

I’m not back at work yet. Honestly, I’m kind of scared at this point because I’ve been gone so long. I’m really worried about going back but I think that’s normal. I have to rip the bandaid off eventually though. My goal is to be back working by the end of February (assuming I’m healthy) I’m a bit worried about having to pay taxes but my boyfriends already committed helping me pay back the CERB (government relief which was taxable...) I’d gotten. Sadly we couldn’t save as much of it as I had hoped. 

thanks to my medication I’m able to...do things. I stick to a routine, I go to sleep before 1am most nights (that’s a big change for me, believe me), my room is clean for the longest it’s been in my life. I’m showering, I’m taking care of my skin. These are all super insane massive deals to me. I’m mentally in such a better spot, I’m even considering getting a pet. For the last few years 6+  I haven’t even owned fish. I had the dogs but I wouldn’t let myself get anything for fear of not being able to look after it. 

Well now I’m looking into getting a crested gecko. I’m hoping I can make this happen relatively soon (as we’re going to be in lockdown until my birthday at least) but we’ll see. I’m in a better place now. My living arrangements haven’t changed sadly, but I’m handling it better. Once I’m working again I can start actively saving and hopefully within a  year or two at most, we can get out of here. 

[pocket-bunney]

Peer reviewed | A Sigma/Moira Overwatch Story

Do I dare Disturb the universe? In a minute there is time For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all: Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; I know the voices dying with a dying fall Beneath the music from a farther room. - T.S. Eliot

It was hard to say that there was steady progress. Progress, in general, was at times questionable.

Usually other test subjects were more… stable, so Moira had at least a standard towards which she could measure any changes, positive or negative.

But this time her project was everything but stable or standard in any way.

‘Specimen Sigma continues to float around in self-induced zero gravity in the secured quarantine with unpredictable bipolar outbursts’ she dictated to the tiny drone flying next to her head ‘No radiation has been picked up by the sensors so far, not even during the most violent outbursts, so it is safe to assume that no protective gear of such sort will be needed.’

The older man floated by her observation window curled up in a ball and suddenly jolted up, looking straight into her eyes. His eyes were colorless, almost lifeless, but he held her gaze and slowly uncurled.

‘How are we feeling today, Siebren?’ Moira asked in a factual tone, no pity in her words.

‘I have to go to work. They must be expecting me.’ Siebren gently said. Moira cocked an eyebrow and let out a tiny, annoyed sigh.

‘You cannot return there, Siebren. You have to remember, we went through this already’ she said coldly ‘Do you want them to treat you like they did before? Tied down like an animal? Well?’

He was looking straight at her, but his body started floating up in a clockwise motion, only his head remaining at the same place.

‘Yes… well, no… I mean…’ he mumbled, and his eyes became unfocused again, then he looked to the side ‘Soon we will reach escape velocity. Everything is prepared. I can’t wait!’

‘For your experiment?’ Moira asked with a curled up lip, her voice dripping with malice.

‘I will succeed’ he said with warm confidence, looking back at her with an honest smile, and her evil grin faded. What a flawed creation, she thought, a genius in a husk of a body.

‘Physical condition is poor but stable.’ Moira then continued, turning to the drone ‘We are slowly introducing heavily processed foods into his diet along with the IV liquids that were registered upon his check-in. However his mental state altogether is highly unstable. It is impossible to hold a conversation. Maybe…’ she looked around the room, and started patting her lips with her index and middle fingers ‘Maybe some kind of anchor would be welcome to stabilize his focus. Some item from his past… Siebren!’ she turned around, looking at the older man who already muttering something in one of the corners of his chamber. 

‘Siebren, I decided to give you something for your... great progress… A gift, if you will. What would you like?’ He slowly turned towards her, completely silent, as if deep in thought.

‘My coat!’ he then said, his features brightening ‘Yes, my coat! I quite need it! And some stroopwafels, please.’ he smiled to himself, then started humming abruptly - a cue for her that this conversation was over. It was something, at least.  So Moira got a coat tailor made for him, complete with a nice little name-tag.

For days, he did not even look at it, did probably not even realize it was there. One day she walked in only to see him have it on and sitting cross-legged, dangling from the ceiling of his cell. Two weeks from then they could finally hold a shorter conversation, although when Moira tried to press for details regarding his research, they were often sidetracked. Siebren complained about the food, or would go on about how nice it was to finally not be obliged to wear shoes. In the middle of a discussion about supermassive black holes, he suddenly asked her if she was a dog or a cat person. With a resigned sigh she said she preferred dogs - he seemed very pleased with this answer and replied he deducted as much.

Night after night when Moira left, her impatience towards Siebren grew - she needed a breakthrough.

Then one day, about a month later, he had made something. They were tiny black holes that sizzled up and out of existence between his fingers.

‘Hawking radiation’ he said, bursting with pride. His color has been improving as of late, Moira noted matter-of-factly ‘You see, if we want to keep them stable, we need a force field around it that keeps the mass of the black hole from decreasing.’ he stretched his hand and a small, grey, hollow shape appeared in it. He summoned another tiny black hole, this time inside of the shape and it remained as stable as a hard black marble.

Moira’s eyes grew huge with wonder. ‘What is that material?’

‘Not sure. It’s not from this galaxy’ Siebren shrugged as if it was the most natural thing in the world. ‘I just came up with it. I call them Hyperspheres.’

‘Can you make more?’ she asked with hungry eyes.

***

She was a genius after all. 

From the matter Siebren created, out of thin air, countless unstable materials could be stabilized. Uranium, Azidoazide azide, you name it. Materials no chemist in their right minds would ever touch returned to a stable state when encompassed which this slightly flowing, grey matter. It was an immense breakthrough - but Moira was not content giving all of it over to the weapons department of Talon. 

There were bigger fish to fry, a more important thing to keep stable.. Siebren himself.

It took some more weeks, but with the help of some other medical personnel she could build some basic equipment that could to latch onto a person’s cerebral matter and stabilize it. During her research she noted that the material needed a continuous source of energy to handle extreme outbursts, so for now they attached a basic biothermal battery to charge itself and the stabilizer with Siebren’s own force. It was not an elegant solution with wires dangling everywhere and the design being unpolished, but she felt an insatiable hunger to try it out.

Of course, for best results, she wanted him to be awake during the operation. She regretted it halfway through, with Siebren sobbing and begging her to stop. And then at one point when half of the equipment has been neatly latched onto his sticky brain matter, he finally retreated into his own mind and started gently humming.

This, Moira found, was immensely more unsettling than the screaming.

***

One day passed, then a week... Siebren was back to his catatonic state, not truly talking. Moira stood in front of him for hours, staring at him, trying to will him back to his active state. Then the awful realization struck her in the gut.

I have failed.

No, no, no, no she told herself, she was a GENIUS, A PRODIGY, she wouldn’t make mistakes like this! She screamed at herself, threw about all the papers and equipment, yelling and cursing in Irish.When she stepped out of her laboratory door she was already her collected self again.

‘Clean up that mess in there’ she barked at the two guards at the entrance and left.

For the next few days, she did not even go down to the quarantine zone, she could not bear to look at her failure.  But a couple of days later her assistant drone was flying to her and chirping with a warning. She couldn’t believe her eyes - the security camera footage showed Siebren, floating upright and examining something. His expression seemed clear and collected. Moira caught herself rushing through the Talon base, and was completely out of breath by the time she made it back to the lab.

And there he was indeed - looking collected and lucid, carefully eyeing a medium sized black hole in front of him, with one hand making turning motions and the black shape following them obediently.

‘Siebren’ was all that Moira could say in disbelief.

He started, looking over at her, and - smiled. 

‘Doctor! You look a bit ruffled. Is everything alright?’ he asked in a conversational manner, floating close to the sliding bulletproof doors of his cell.

‘Khm, yes, a busy day’ Moira said, brushing back her hair with her fingers and quickly collected herself, stepping closer to him. ‘How are we feeling today, Siebren?’

‘I do feel much better, doctor.’ Siebren assured her in a nice, courteous manner ‘Please, let me talk to you outside. If there is something wrong, surely you can call the guards.’

Moira furrowed her brows. He was not wrong, but she did not necessarily like this sudden turn of events. The man looked at him sheepishly.

‘Did I not do everything you asked so far?’ he said in a low, sad voice and the black hole retracted into nothingness in his hand. A pang of fear gushed over Moira, a deep, clawing fear of losing more ground on her research.

‘Fine’ she said quickly, maybe even too quickly; but as she  opened the door to the confinement chamber she reminded herself of the small tranquilizing gun hidden in her lab coat pocket. 

‘My’ Siebren said with a slight smile, floating out of the chamber and stretching out, his neck giving a loud crack ‘Thank you. It is quite pleasant to be out.’

‘Why don’t we conduct a little interview?’ Moira offered matter-of-factly, pulling close a chair while telling herself to calm her breathing.

‘Why of course.’ he did not budge, but he was still courteous and calm. No time to lose, she thought.

‘Can you elaborate on your current state a bit more, Siebren?’

‘You have no idea, doctor... You have truly done something incredible. This stabilizer has worked wonders for me in the last few days. I have never been more… focused in my entire life.’ he said, his half-smile turning into a delighted, almost evil grin.

‘I am glad to hear that’ Moira said in her evil-silky voice, crossing her legs ‘Can we go a bit into detail about how you experience this focused state?’

‘Well, doctor, before that, I have a confession to make’ Siebren said amused. Moira squinted at him inquiringly ‘I have to confess… that I have killed you.’

Moira kept staring at him, trying to follow his train of thought.

‘Hm, you mean in a dream?’ she asked coldly.

‘No doctor’ Siebren said in a level tone, with a knowing smile that made an uneasy knot form in her gut ‘No-no, just now. And an hour ago. And half a dozen times yesterday. But you just… keep coming back. Dead, and still alive. My elusive Schroedinger’s Cat.’ he stretched out his hand, and ever so lightly touched Moira’s cheek. She looked back at him coldly. 

So he is still unstable. She quickly concluded that it was a mistake to let him out and took mental note of the possible courses of action. She took care to use exactly the same tone as she did before:

‘Siebren, I am deeply disappointed about this bluff. Tell me, is this some game to get my attention? If so, I am not amused, you have to know.’

Siebren broke out in laughter, his joy floating him up and up, and when he was done, he carefully raised one of his hands, making Moira slowly float up next to him.

‘Oh, but Doctor O’Deorain, so far it was all about your pleasures, was it not? But now I have seen you quiver and plead for my mercy, and it gave me unspeakable satisfaction, I have to admit. And finally I was the one dissecting you, hearing your screams and torturing you, and not the other way around.’ he said all this with a still, serene look, with a hint of amusement in his tone.

Moira weighed her chances. He was still all bark, no bite. If she called a code red and armed forces would storm the lab he might become unstable, more aggressive. The best course of action seemed to remain confident, even if floating in mid-air. 

‘And how would you have done that?’ she finally asked, consciously using the same tone of slight amusement as he did, and she gestured at herself ‘I am here, aren’t I? And I do not recall you doing anything to me at all. These things were only in your head, Siebren. You need help. I will help you. I am helping you.’

‘The forces of the universe, in fact, the multiverse, Doctor, are far beyond humanity’s grasp. It also took me a bit of time to test out my hypothesis. I doubt you could even grasp it with your puny mind.’ he said all of this with an elevated calmness still, as if he was giving a lecture of some kind.

Something snapped in Moira at that moment, her pupils dilating and her hands clenched in fists. Nobody, especially not this miserable creation, was ever allowed to degrade her genius mind.

‘Kill me then!’ she snapped, her eyes on fire ‘Torture me, kill me, show me that you are a man true to your word and not just a mumbling idiot that you have been for years now! I am not afraid of you!’

Siebren let out a small chuckle and floated close to her. This was her cue - once he made a move, she would knock him out with the tranquilizer.

‘Doctor…no, Moira…’ he said in a low voice, bending down his head a bit ‘I will be honest with you. I did not just kill you before. There were also… other things.’ he whispered suggestively. Then, out of nowhere, he started absentmindedly humming that eerie melody. Moira found that she was shivering, and the knot in her gut extended up, up, up, all the way to the back of her throat now. What was he saying…? That… he and her…?!

‘Once I killed you after, just to test my hypothesis’ Siebren then said dismissively, not looking at her, something resembling shame in his eyes ‘I admit, that was not my favorite part of the experiment.’ And then he perked up a bit and looked back at her, deeply into her mismatched eyes ‘But yet here you are, dead, and still alive and well, just like the cat in the box.’

This was a good enough moment as any. He was close enough so she grabbed the gun and shoved it right into his side… or she thought it was his side because her hand was stopped by something big and immovable. But glancing down upon it she could see it was frozen in mid-motion, bound by an immense force that completely paralyzed her.

‘Oh, we did play this game before, I remember, my good Doctor’ Siebren said amused, and started trailing his thick fingers down her sharp, oh so sharp cheekbone. The knot in her throat was choking her now. She tried to clear her head, to think of a solution, because there always is a solution. But adrenaline rushed through her spine and exploded in her head, and his touch just made it worse, because she was sure he will snap her neck in the next second.

‘I remember this…’ Siebren then says with a hint of surprise, tilting his head a little bit and observing her as if she was some sort of complex equation ‘But now... it’s different. There is a note, a slightly different note in the background. If I wouldn’t know the melody by heart, i would miss it, I think. But I was here in this moment a thousand times with you already, so I know all the scenarios. And now, there is that small addition… Yes, your pulse, the way its throbbing in your head, and throbbing in my head... You say you are not afraid, but I have never felt you to be so terrified for your own well-being before. It is… excruciatingly wonderful.’ he says with great pleasure and bends down, kissing her gently on the lips.

Suddenly it’s as if she is ripped out of existence, floating in the middle of space. No sound, no air, no warmth, no energy to concoct a logical idea. Just. Him. 

The only strand to life, to sanity feels like where his atoms press against hers.

When he pulls back, she is unable to open her eyes. She feels dizzy, cold and numb. He lets out a sigh as if released from some grave worry and gently takes one of her still paralyzed hands.

‘Moira’ he starts, his voice like silk, and all the deep lines in his face seem to be easing out as he explains ‘I am here with you, but also I am at my experiment the moment it is failing. I am at the birth of the galaxy and at the moment where the very last photon dies out in the entire galaxy. I am limitless. But… when I kiss you, when I pleasure you in any number of universes, I feel… wholly united for a moment.’ What a strange confession, she thinks sluggishly. She blinks sense back into her eyes, her brain. It is hard, she notices, because it feels like she is being sucked into an event horizon, losing herself.

Dead.

Alive.

Both.

At. 

The.

Same.

Time.

Is this how He feels?

And then she sees her chance for a grand experiment.

‘Kiss me again’ her lips move with barely a sound, her eyes half closed, hazy and inviting. But Siebren hears it, and his features light up instantly.

‘This is new. What a delight!’ he purrs in a low voice, and gently reaches over her tiny waist with one bulky arm while hugging her back with the other, wholly encompassing her before bending his head down and kissing her again. This time she opens her mouth and kisses back, slowly at first, then more demanding. The force field binding her lets up a bit and she pushes her body against his.  The sensation of floating in emptiness returns, but Moira does not fear it this time, and concentrates solely on Siebren. Her invisible bounds dissolve and she is free to hug his neck and pull him closer, ever so closer with one arm. She feels him melt away at her touch, her response. 

And then she rips out the cord powering his stabilizer with her other arm.

There is a sudden shock and pain in his eyes, she can see it up close. No, not physical pain, rather the pain of betrayal, maybe even a small teardrop. But she can’t observe better, because in the next moment she falls and hits the ground hard and Siebren’s unconscious body crashes down on her with full force.

***

She does the inventory:

One adjusted stabilizer, calibrated for a less lucid and focused Sigma. One invaluable secret report of his true abilities, stashed away for the future. A great deal of recent memory loss but also an increase in cooperation from the specimen, both welcome advancements.

A broken leg and a few broken ribs on her part, but who’s counting?

All in all, great success.

Yes, there are nights when she cannot sleep, and thrashes around with a tantalizing longing in her body that no amount of stimuli can quench.

But we must all make some sacrifices for science, she tells herself - over and over, and over again.

[korora12]

Ladybug Week Day 6 - Kitchen Disaster

Day 5 Day 7

Word Count: 4881

The thing about working freelance is that sometimes there isn’t any work to be had. Sometimes you get a tip about a job on a distant moon, so you fly halfway across the system just to find out someone beat you to it. Then you’re stuck flying back at half-speed to a more populated part of the system in order to conserve fuel, struggling to find ways to pass the time that won’t eat through money you don’t have.

“Ruby, where did you put my flamethrower?”

Blake was sitting in Crescent Rose’s common room reading her newest novel when Yang’s voice chimed over the intercom, signaling the beginning of the day’s unrequested excitement.

Moments later, Ruby returned with, “I put it back in the weapons locker. Where it belongs. Should I be concerned right now?”

“No, no need to be concerned. We have everything under control. Right, Weiss?”

“Can’t talk right now, busy,” Weiss responded. A loud crash preceded the intercom cutting out.

Blake turned to look behind her. The kitchen was in a small alcove, just to the side of the common room, where she’d seen Weiss and Yang head about an hour ago. She’d been filtering out their bickering/flirting since then, until she’d heard one of them run out moments earlier, heading towards the cockpit door. Past the kitchen counter, she could see Weiss struggling with some amorphous blob.

Sighing, Blake marked her spot and placed her book down on the nearby table. What were those two up to this time?

Across the room the door to the main battery opened and Ruby stepped through. Her skin and clothes, a pair of overalls and an old shirt, were covered in grease and other unrecognizable fluids. Her hair was being held back from her face by a pair of goggles perched atop her head. “What’s happening this time?” she demanded to know.

Blake thrust her thumb over her shoulder. Ruby’s gaze followed where she was pointing; when she saw the state of the kitchen she ran a hand over her face, managing to dirty it further. “Someone’s losing kitchen privileges for this,” she muttered.

The couple made their way across the room just in time for Weiss to slam a lid down atop a 10-gallon pot. She struggled to keep it in place.

“Are we doing chemistry experiments in the kitchen again, Weiss?” Ruby didn’t get angry about many things, but reckless behavior that damaged her ship was one such thing. After what had happened the last few times Yang and Weiss had gotten bored, the razor edge in her voice was far from unwarranted.

“Of course not. We learned our lesson last time,” Weiss assured her. The pot in her grasp shook violently. “We were cooking, which Yang has assured me doesn’t count as chemistry.”

Ruby didn’t immediately snap at her. “Go on,” she said.

Motes of light flickered and swirled within Weiss, signs of anxiety and embarrassment. “When we were at the market yesterday I saw this strange animal being sold that I’d never seen before. I thought it might be fun to try and cook, so I bought it.” The pot shook again, and Weiss sped up her story in response. “Yang found out about it and thought we could make a stew. It was turning out really well; Yang even said it tasted good when she tried it. Then things might have gotten a tiny bit out of control.”

Blake cocked her head to the side, taking in the whole of Weiss’ being, as if to remind herself that her friend was, in fact, still made of crystal. “Weiss, you don’t even eat food. What made you think experimenting with cooking was a good idea?”

Some manner of sludge began leaking out of the gap between the lid and pot. It was thick, brownish-blue, and it bubbled when it hit the air. “I wanted to do something nice for the crew!” Weiss shouted, and in that moment she lost the struggle with her foe. The lid flew out of her hands, catching her on the head as it went. The contents of the pot followed moments later.

It moved too fast even for Blake’s eyes to track. One moment it was in the pot, the next it had tackled Weiss to the ground and spread across most her body. She only got an impression of colors, mostly purple and blue, before it disappeared again.

Weiss attempted to rise to her feet, but stumbled. Blake rushed forward to catch her before Ruby could try the same; Weiss was a heavy weight for a human to lift, being mostly rock, but Blake was more metal than not, so the weight meant little to her.

“I…not… so feel.” Weiss’ translator was having a hard time interpreting her words. Blake’s own fluency in Atlesian wasn’t serving her much better; every spot on her that the… thing had touched was glowing an iridescent ultraviolet in a shade Blake had never seen before.

“That doesn’t look good,” Ruby said

“We should get her downstairs,” Blake said in agreement.

Ruby moved to help her, then hesitated. “Where’s Yang? If she went to the cockpit to look for her flamethrower, then she should’ve been back by now.”

“Maybe she went to the weapons lockers in storage?” Blake offered. Then another thought hit her. “Weiss said she taste-tested the stew before it turned into whatever that was.”

“Oh no.” Blake couldn’t help but agree with Ruby’s sentiments. “Okay, you get Weiss down to the medbay; I’ll go find Yang.”

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Of the four members of Crescent Rose’s crew, Weiss was the one with the most medical knowledge. She wasn’t a professional, but she had thorough first aid training for all intelligent species. So of course she was the first one to be taken out when a monster attacked.

Blake knew how to care for FAUNIS, but her knowledge of the other species was limited. Still, Weiss had made sure they each knew the basics early on. She knew materia fed by absorbing minerals and nutrients in a water solution through their outermost layers, and that this made them especially susceptible to what few toxins could affect them.

She tore through the various drawers and cabinets until she found what she was looking for. It was a tube of translucent paste that she began slathering generously on the affected parts of Weiss’ body. The paste was a general antivenin that was supposed to draw out toxins from a materia while also encouraging the body’s natural defenses. Attempting and failing to move Weiss’ arm proved that she’d already gone static as her body attempted to use its own methods to remove the invading substance.

As Blake finished emptying the last of the tube, the door opened. Ruby came through, carrying an unconscious Yang to an unoccupied bed.

“How’s Weiss doing?” Ruby asked.

“Still glowing; still alive,” Blake answered. “Yang?”

“I found her passed out on the cockpit stairs. She’s even hotter than usual. What do we do?”

Blake wished she knew. If Yang had eaten something poisonous then maybe, “Induce vomiting?”

“She’s unconscious,” Ruby countered. “What if she chokes? I’m going to get her an IV and a wet cloth.”

As Blake washed her hands of the residual paste, she wondered aloud, “What kind of creature can poison both a materia and a protean? Their biology is so different; I’ve never heard of anything that could do that.”

“I don’t know,” Ruby replied, talking as she worked, “but I intend to kill it before it gets anyone else.”

Blake nodded in understanding. “How far out are we from Eltanin?”

“About an hour and a half. When I’m done here I’ll go set up the autopilot to land us at our usual dock. Meanwhile, I want all hands on deck for this. Go find our fifth crewmate and bring him here. And get our weapons, too.”

Brake managed to suppress her grimace. She didn’t like the newest addition to their crew, but she had to admit he had his uses. Hunting a mystery monster was one of the few things she could rely on him to do.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Zwei had only been with the Crescent Rose for a few weeks, but already he loved it. There were so many corners to poke around in and the new people were so much fun. The long trip here via mail crate had been more than worth it.

One of the new people, the one who liked to play hide-and-seek with him, had picked him up and was taking him somewhere. The sounds that people made were difficult to understand, but he could learn names and this one was called Blake. He didn’t understand what she was saying, but he caught the names “Yang” and “Weiss”, who were two of his favorite people. Zwei had known Yang for his entire life; she was a girl who was always ready to roll around in the dirt or pull on a rope with him. Weiss was newer, but she liked to pamper him with treats and cuddles, and Zwei’s affections were easily bought by such people.

Zwei was rather dismayed to find both of the people in question lying flat on their backs, the stench of sickness covering them. Ruby, his favoritest person in the world, was there too, though she was thankfully on her feet. She gave him only one command. “Hunt.”

Zwei knew how to hunt. As Blake lifted him towards both of the sick girls in turn, Zwei got a careful sniff of each. They were very different kinds of creatures, normally with very different smells (except on the rare mornings where they smelled like each other for a while), but there was something within the stench of sickness that they both shared. An underlying smell that suggested something had done this to them, and now Ruby wanted him to find it.

The moment his paws hit the floor he was off. Out the door and up the stairs, straight towards the food room, a place he normally wasn’t allowed in. He squashed the urge to slip open the fridge and steal a quick bite; there was more important work to be done. And anyway, he’d probably get a treat when this was all over.

A large pot lay fallen on the floor. Zwei poked his head inside. Yup, this was the strongest source of the smell. It must’ve come from inside the pot. He committed the scent to memory, then began to follow it. The trail led him out of the food room, past the couches, and into the large room with all the hanging cords, large pillars, and flashing tables that Ruby spent so much time in.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

“If this thing hurts my baby, I’m going to kill it,” Ruby said.

“I thought we were already planning on killing it,” Blake countered.

“Then I’ll kill it twice. It’s bad enough that it attacked my crew, I won’t be having it hurt my ship too.”

The main battery, along with the connecting engine room, was undeniably Ruby’s domain. The others didn’t spend much time in either places, usually only poking their heads in if an extra pair of hands were needed. With a crew as small as theirs was, everyone branched out from their specialty and learned other jobs, but Ruby was still the best engineer around. And the captain. And the best shot with the main gun, even if its computers did most of the heavy lifting. And, along with Blake, one of the only people on the ship who could man all the secondary guns simultaneously without a major drop in effectiveness.

Maybe she should delegate more.

The room was huge, taking up about a quarter of the ship’s third level. Thick wires and glowing tubes hung from the ceiling, connecting up to the massive main gun that sat atop the ship, itself about half as long as Crescent Rose. The main body of the gun took up most of the center of the room, surrounded by computer banks and held up by pillars so that it cleared the floor by about a meter and a half.

Zwei was wandering about the room, nose to the ground and following whatever trail he’d found. Ruby followed hot on his tail, eyes casting about and ears straining for any sign of their quarry. Boots on the metal floor made a heavy sound that echoed off the walls.

Movement in the corner of her eye had her whipping Bright Thorn around in its direction. Nothing, just an empty bank of flashing panels.

Zwei’s tracking took him between the central pillars and under the main gun. Ruby hesitated at the edge. Open panels and dangling wires from previous patch jobs reduced the already limited headspace underneath; following him would severely limit her mobility if attacked. She crouched down, following her corgi with her eyes as he darted here and there, trying to follow a much faster prey.

The lights cut out.

“Great,” Blake said. “We’re hunting a monster, on our own ship, in the dark. This is how horror stories start.”

“You have night vision,” Ruby snarked back, flipping on the flashlight attached to her gun. “What are you complaining about?”

“I’m just saying.”

Ruby shook her head in exasperated fondness. “I’m more concerned with why they went out. Either this thing is smart enough to intentionally cut the lights, or it’s attacking indiscriminately and getting lucky.” She rose from her crouch, standing back-to-back with her partner as they surveyed the room. “Whichever it is, now I have to kill it twice.”

Lazer fire behind her had her spinning around, Bright Thorn raised and ready to fire. “It came out of the wall,” Blake said, rapidly firing her lazpistol, first along the ground, then up overhead. Ruby tracked her shots trying to follow with her light.

“Ventilation shaft?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

She caught sight of a blur, passing through the circle of light projected on the ceiling for only an instant, but it was enough. She pulled her trigger and the thing dropped, releasing a whine like a deflating balloon as it fell.

If the shot injured it, it wasn’t enough to kill. By the time Ruby’s flashlight was pointed at the ground it was gone, only a small, bulbous part of it momentarily visible speeding away towards the center of the room.

“Zwei, look out!” Ruby called.

A series of barks and growls spoke of a tremendous battle between beast and monster. Ruby caught only flashes of it, as Zwei tumbled with and tore into something that was less of a shape, and more the impression of a mouth on a lump the color of an oil spill. She couldn’t even get a solid grasp on how big it was, with how fast and how much it moved, thought it at least seemed to be no larger than a fully-grown corgi. The thing tackled Zwei, knocking him out of sight. Before Ruby could refocus her light, Zwei let out a loud, pained yip and ran straight towards them, sliding to a stop and collapsing at Blake’s feet.

“Some fearsome monster hunter you are,” she said, scooping him up in one arm, the pistol in her other still sweeping the room. She paused her sweep, turning her attention more heavily on the dog in her arms. “He’s breathing really heavily, and I think I see a bit of blood.”

“Okay,” Ruby said, trying not to let her worry take control of the situation. She could do this. “Let’s fall back for now, get Zwei downstairs. Head towards the hatch at the back of the room.”

There were four ways in or out of the main battery. One was the door they came in through, and opposite it, on the far end of the room, was a door that led deeper into the guts of the ship, towards the engine and fuel tanks. Near the rear door was also a lift that connected all three of the ships levels, as well as a ladder, covered by a hatch, that exited near the medbay on the second floor.

The pair swept the room as they headed towards the ladder. This time, Ruby was the first to spot it. It moved too fast for her to line up a proper shot, but she fired anyway. The sound drew Blake’s attention, and she fired her own gun.

“Keep it away from the exits.” Ruby ordered. Together they managed to herd it towards the center of the room, firing ahead of it anytime it tried to head towards a wall or pillar, until they reached their destination.

Ruby knelt to open the hatch while Blake kept firing, her efforts alone less effective than the two together had been. Her success was marked by a beam of light from the lower level shining into the room. “Go,” Ruby commanded. Blake forewent the ladder, jumping backwards and dropping the entire distance in one go. Ruby swung onto the top rung, firing one last shot as she went, then slammed the hatch shut above her. Embedded in the wall nearby was a lever under a glass lid. Ruby lifted the lid, pulled the lever, twisted, and pushed it back in. A clunk echoed from the hatch.

“That’ll seal off the room. Even the ventilation is locked down now.” Ruby joined Blake on the second level. “It should hold for a bit, but I don’t want to leave it for long. How’s he doing?”

Blake held Zwei out for Ruby to see. His wounds were more visible in the still-active lighting of the hallway. He was indeed bleeding, from a bite mark on his side that was turning a disturbing shade of purple.

“Not you too, Zwei,” she moaned, letting Bright Thorn hang from his strap as she took the dog into her arms. “I’m going to get him set up in the medbay. When I get back, we’ll finish this thing off.”

The hatch above them shook violently, as if something had just slammed into it at high speeds. “Maybe hurry?” Blake offered, sword and gun drawn as she stared down the hatch.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

When Ruby returned, it was to a changed hallway. Blake was on the floor and the nearby lift was peeled open, the doors bending outwards. She rushed to Blake’s side, glad to see she was still conscious and struggling to her feet.

“Are you okay?” she asked, helping her up. “What happened?” Ruby fretted nervously, checking Blake over for bite marks or blood.

“I’m fine,” Blake assured her, waving off concerned hands, “just dazed. I wasn’t watching my six and it tackled me. There’s no lasting damage.”

Ruby eyed her suspiciously, not failing to notice the difficulty she showed finding her balance again. “You’ll let me know if you start to feel sick, right?”

Blake backed off, finally standing on her own without aid, and bowed exaggeratedly at the waist. “Of course, my queen.”

“Blaaaake,” Ruby whined, “don’t call me that. It’s embarrassing.”

A cute smirk played across Blake’s face. “As you wish, your majesty.”

Ruby huffed, ignoring the blush she could feel forming on her face and not dignifying Blake with another response. “Did you see which way it went?”

There weren’t a whole lot of places it could’ve gone. Aside from back the way Ruby came, or back the way it came, it’s only options for escape were down the stairs to the storage bay or… or down the hallway Blake was pointing at.

Exhaustion leaked out of her in a low moan. “Not life support,” she complained. Why did this thing keep getting into the sensitive parts of the ship?

“Royalty first,” Blake said, sweeping her arm in the direction they were headed.

“You’re a big old teasing meanie,” Ruby said, but she led the way regardless.

The life support room was more like a wide hallway than a room, several times longer than it was wide. It was full of variously-sized criss-crossing pipes, clumped together in places and jutting out of the walls at all angles, and thick, twisted cords of dozens or more wires stretching across the ceiling and walls. They were accompanied by controls and sensors for electrical energy, air circulation, and water filtration, amongst other things. Several large, boxy generators sat at the back of the room, their steady chugging providing both electricity and gravity. The floor was made of removable metal grates, granting access to the innermost workings of the ship.

“Come here, little abomination,” Ruby whispered as she stepped as quietly as she could through the room, the sound of her footsteps largely masked by the noises of the various machineries surrounding her. “Step away from the sensitive equipment and show yourself. I only want to talk.”

The room quieted midstep, the rumble of a generator cutting out. Ruby’s next step pushed her off the ground and sent her floating through the air.

“You know,” she said, just letting herself float freely for a moment. “I’m not usually one to swear, but this thing is really pushing my limits.”

“It’s okay,” Blake assured her, “You can say it, I won’t judge you.”

Ruby shook her head. “No, the moment’s not right.”

Bending down, not that down had much meaning at the moment, she flicked a switch on her boots and was pulled to the floor. She looked at Blake, slowly making her way towards the ceiling. “Where are your magboots?” Ruby asked.

“I didn’t put them on this morning,” Blake answered. “Funnily enough, I wasn’t expecting to get attacked by the Creature from the Black Lagoon today. A better question is, why are you wearing yours?”

Ruby shrugged. “It makes working on the engine easier.”

Blake caught and steadied herself on a thin pipe that ran the length of the ceiling. “So this thing’s probably back by the graviton generator, right?”

“Unless it’s moved already,” Ruby countered. “It is pretty fast.”

“It’s a place to start.” She shimmied along the pipe, heading to the rear of the room. Ruby followed slowly, keeping a careful eye on her surroundings as she went.

Every blind corner or obstructed section of floor had Ruby swinging Bright Thorn around. There were too many hiding spots in this room, even with all the lights still working.

“All clear,” Blake called from up ahead.

If it wasn’t by the generator anymore, then where had it gotten to? Ruby took a step forward, then froze. Whatever she’d stepped on had just squished. She looked down.

Bubbling up through the holes in the grate was a thick, purplish-brown sludge that surrounded and spread out from a burst water pipe. The sludge moved in ways it shouldn’t, rearing up only to slosh back down, spinning about in cyclones and eddies, and forming what looked like grasping tendrils. The more water it took in, the larger it grew.

“Blake!” Ruby shouted, “Shut off water to—” she checked the writing on the nearby pipes, since anything written on the burst pipe was now buried under an onslaught of sludge, “—pipe C126.”

“Where is it?” Blake asked, not able to see Ruby from her vantage point.

“In the floor!”

Ruby didn’t have time to watch Blake take action, too busy herself firing at the sludge monster while putting distance between it and herself. At first it didn’t respond to her actions, only continuing to grow even as Ruby blasted off bits of it. The moment it lost its supply of water, however, it screeched.

It began moving as a single solid creature, once again black with a rainbow sheen, bits of grating stuck inside it as it burst from the floor. It was larger than Ruby now, continuously shifting and oozing as it barreled towards her, as fast as an oncoming car.

“Oh, fuck.”

Ruby ran, racing to regroup with Blake. The thing following her was still fast, but all its added bulk slowed it down to below her top speed.

The moment she was in sight, Blake was firing at the monster chasing Ruby. Sustained lazer fire caused the creature to start to glow from the heat, one explosion of superheated air after another tearing into its bulk. Its wounds bubbled and burst, releasing hissing clouds of steam that diffused light, weakening successive shots.

Ruby ground to a halt at Blake’s side and spun around, bayonet pointed at their foe. Blake, sword in hand, joined her.

Ruby was less durable than her girlfriend, hence her preference for mid-to-long-range combat. In close range, without her cloak, she had to stay mobile, dodging what she could and letting Blake block what she couldn’t. Meanwhile Blake was taking full advantage of the lack of gravity, bouncing around the creature and attacking it from every angle, taking shots with her gun whenever she spotted an opening. Even with that benefit, however, Ruby noticed her reaction time was slower than usual.

Her mobility was enough to keep her in the fight for a bit, letting her hack of bits of the monster even as it tried to crush or suffocate her with its multitude of bulging appendages. But eventually Ruby mistimed a dodge, forgetting for a moment that she couldn’t rely on gravity, and it managed to catch her in the side with a pseudopod cloaked in steam, sending her flying into a bundle of hanging wires.

She was pretty sure she’d just broken at least one rib.

Ruby was tangled up tightly in the mess of wires and getting loose required more than a little wriggling. She screeched in surprise as a few wires came loose, releasing a stream of sparks.

The sludge monster was on her moments before she was completely free. It was smaller now, loose bits of it splattered about the room, but with every bit of mass it lost, it just got that much faster.

It slammed into her, spreading its mass as if to engulf her. Right in front of her face a crack opened up, the impression of a mouth forming, jagged edges loosely resembling teeth.

A frantic, desperate idea popped into Ruby’s head as the mouth drew near. Her hands were still mostly free, so she dropped Bright Thorn and instead grabbed the sparking, severed wires, plunging them into the sludge. A sustained current coursed through the creature, making it writhe and gyrate wildly. It gave one last shake, then, with a sound like the creaking hinges of hell’s front door, it exploded. Bits of it went everywhere; the walls, the ceiling, Ruby’s mouth. It tasted like fish stew, she decided, though it could’ve used a bit more salt.

She spat the sludge out, hoping just tasting it wouldn’t be enough to poison her like Yang had been.

“Ruby!” Blake shouted as she flew to her side. “Are you okay?”

Ruby nodded. “I think so. I’ve never been so glad to have insulating overalls, though.”

Blake shook her head. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry,” Ruby apologized. Blake hugged her in response, and Ruby screamed, pushing her away. “Nope, not okay. I forgot about the broken ribs.”

Blake looked about ready to smack her for that, but she somehow held back. “Okay,” she said instead. “Let’s get you to the med-bay with everyone else.” She grabbed Ruby more gently this time, fumbling as she did, her usual grace seemingly gone.

“Hey,” Ruby admonished. “You said you’d tell me if you were feeling sick.”

“I’m fine,” Blake assured her. “Just running a bit hot.” Blake pushed off the ground and the two began floating back towards the door. “Do you feel that? Gravity’s starting to increase, which means we’re getting close to the planet. We’ll land safely, then everyone can go to the hospital and we’ll all get better. We’re all fine now.”

Maybe it was the steady ache of her ribs, maybe it was the drawn-out hunt and fight she’d just undergone, or maybe it was Blake’s arms around her, but Ruby was suddenly feeling extremely tired. It was a struggle just to keep her eyes open. “Blake,” she said. “Have I ever told you how amazing you are?”

“You could stand to say it more,” she answered.

“No, seriously,” Ruby said. “No matter what happens, you always step up to the challenge. You always get the job done, with a big ol’ helping of beauty and grace, just ‘cause you can.” Her words were starting to slur, so she rushed to the point. “There’s somethin’ I wanna ask you. You’ve been doin’ it for a while already, but I wanna make it official.”

Blake was silent for a moment. “What do you mean?” she finally asked.

“Will you…” Ruby paused, taking a deep breath to fight off the encroaching weariness, “be my second-in-command?”

Blake sighed, then smiled. “Does this mean I get a raise?”

Ruby laughed. “No. But I can prolly get you a bigger room.”

Blake quirked an eyebrow. “The only rooms bigger than mine are the pilot’s and the captain’s.”

Ruby nodded slightly, too tired to feel embarrassment about what she was asking. “I don’t take up much space. You could share my room.”

Ruby didn’t hear Blake’s answer, unconsciousness finally making its claim on her, but she desperately hoped it was “yes”.

[ahnsael]

My car is finally fixed!

Went to a local Auto Zone that advertises free tests of batteries, alternators, etc to diagnose problems like mine. It was a REAL quick test. “Yup, that battery is DEAD.”

He explained that new cars usually come with cheap batteries, and you’re lucky to get three years out of them (I got about 3½ out of mine).

I told him we did the same thing at Disneyland -- when you buy a light-up toy, odds are it comes with “Rocket” brand batteries, which we got (at the time) for about 1¢ each. And they would last maybe an hour or two (if you were lucky) before you’d notice your toy getting dimmer (granted, we brought LOTS of spare batteries out with us to sell these toys, so any guest that came up to say their toy didn’t last long, I’d explain that the batteries are indeed cheap and don’t last long but when they put better batteries in, the toy will last. And then I’d give them enough batteries to change them out four more times so the toy would last them through the next couple nights of use.

I spent an extra $30 (in theory -- read on) to get a better AGM battery (at least it’s better for my situation -- they tend to recharge faster and withstand extreme hot and cold temperatures, unlike normal car batteries -- and since most of my trips are four miles to or from work, that wasn’t long enough to recharge what battery power I spent on starting the car by the time I reached my destination. And since I work graveyard, my car is outside in sub-freezing temperatures all night this time of year).

The guy said he wasn’t trying to upsell me (he was TOTALLY trying to upsell me), but when I went with the more expensive option (and after we talked Disney for a few minutes -- I’m telling you, once in a while being a former cast member still pays dividends) he asked if I was a veteran and I said “No, but he is” and pointed at my stepdad who was in the Army, and the guy took $20 off the price on the spot, and then he said that he’d take another $10 off if we left the old battery with them (which, THANK YOU, because I don’t want an old car battery to try and figure out how to get rid of).

So in agreeing to spend $30 extra without hemming and hawing over it (I had actually looked at batteries over the past couple days and knew that everything he was telling me matched up with what I had read about AGM batteries vs the standard wet cell battery), I got this battery for the same price as the other one that he had which would fit my car.

No more having to jump-start my car every time I go to work, recharge my jump starter while working, and jump start the car again to get home! No more worrying that I can’t stop at the store on the way home because the store isn’t going to charge my jump starter for me and I may not be able to start my car again to get home. No more leaving the car running when I run into a convenience store and hope I see it if someone tries to get in and drive away.

And now I ramble (yeah, yeah, I hear you shouting “too late, you’re already rambling!” at your computer screen), so here’s a “read more.” Some of you who have followed me for less than two years may learn something about me at the end of this post that may change your perception of me, but since tumblr is the only place I’ve talked (albeit sparsely) about this particular thing. Those of you who know me well already know this unless you missed those posts.

I’ll still keep the jumper in the car “just in case” -- I just have to charge it every 30 days to keep it up to snuff. Plus, it may come in handy if a guest at the casino needs a jump. Though I should check with my boss on that; it may bring up liability issues that we would rather not deal with. I have a feeling that would be a no-go. We’re not even allowed to administer first aid, or even have a first aid kit, because of the liability if we “treat” someone and it goes south somehow. We just call for the ambulance (which I’ve only had to do twice -- once for a lady who fell out of her chair [never did find out why but she was alert and coherent and walked to the ambulance but DID want their help] and once for a guest who had a stroke while at a machine -- and didn’t want the paramedics, he wanted to keep playing video keno with his left hand since he couldn’t lift his right one (we did get him on a gurney, but he literally did not stop playing until paramedics put him on the gurney, and then I cashed him out and gave his money to one of the medics to give to him -- if a friend of his hadn’t told me that he wasn’t okay I wouldn’t have known because other than playing with his left hand when the “play” button is on the right side, he looked okay, but after she told me he needed help and I wasn’t sure if he did I sat down and talked to him and it became very clear that she was right but without asking him about it I would have never realized what was going on, but because she told me that she thought he was having a stroke, and the 9-1-1 operator walking me through some tests which confirmed it, it was caught in time that there was no lasting damage).

But I digress with work stories.

Now to the thing newer people may not know about. As some of you know, I did something REALLY not-smart a couple years ago (I got behind the wheel of a car when I had no business being behind the wheel of a car), and I’ve been dealing with the consequences since then. Nothing too terrible, all things considered (thankfully I didn’t hurt anyone or cause any damage), and finishing the worst part by serving the rest of my 48-hour jail sentence was over in August of 2018. In February of 2019, I was freed of my obligation to attend counseling after the counselor signed off on me not being a continued danger and not likely to re-offend (which I WILL NOT do -- the consequences get worse with successive infractions, and just ONCE was enough to teach me that, even if I hadn’t felt awful for putting my community at risk, the punishment is NOT worth deciding to go to Burger King when I should NOT be driving to Burger King -- fun fact: the Auto Zone I was at today is next door to that very Burger King which I was leaving when I was pulled over).

In August of last year, I was done with “alternative sentencing.” What that was, was I had to call the probation arm of the Sheriff’s Department EVERY SINGLE MORNING to see whether or not they wanted to test me for alcohol in my system (the judge had ordered me to drink ZERO alcohol for a year -- not even NyQuil if I was sick). If they were to find alcohol in my pee test, I had a warrant issued for my arrest. Granted, in May of last year, the head probation officer told me that I didn’t have to call anymore -- but I was subject to search or testing at any time (and they did show up at my house a few times to make sure I was still complying -- they still had to monitor me, but I didn’t have to call anymore because I had earned a degree of trust with them; also they were genuinely nice people and I got along well with them, so our positive relationship may have entered into it as well; when I was officially released from their rolls of “people to watch over,” I went in the day after the judge’s order had expired to verify that I was done with them, and the head guy shook my hand, said “you’re off our rolls,” and admonished me: “Don’t come back”).

But then there was the year of having an interlock device in my car. I didn’t reinstate my suspended license until January of 1999, and that’s when the year (ordered in my August 1998 sentencing) kicked in. It’s not “wait a year and then reinstate your license without having to do this;” it’s “once you reinstate your license, you must have this device in your vehicle for a year from THEN”).

It’s actually been 13 months now. But I wasn’t sure about the process of getting it removed. I asked about it the month before my year was up at the place where I have to get it calibrated once a month, and they said to call the interlock company (this is a car audio place that also handles interlocks, but not the interlock company themselves), and they would tell me how to “petition the court” to get it removed.

I did more research and the interlock company says they need the “monitoring authority’s permission” to allow the interlock to be removed. But they don’t say who the “monitoring authority is” (which is understandable as they are a nationwide company and state laws differ but even when I found a page that broke down the removal process state-by-state, it didn’t say who my monitoring authority was or what kind of “permission” I needed to obtain or how to get it).

But yesterday morning, I emailed the interlock company and the DMV to ask them about the removal. Surprisingly, the DMV got back to me first (still haven’t heard back from SmartStart -- edit, yes I have, see below).

But it was a reply to my email address from a person in the “Drivers License Assessment Team” saying that they had looked at my record and that I was good to come in and get the interlock restriction removed, and that that should be enough for the interlock people.

And, as I was writing this, I got an email from SmartStart saying “Please be informed that removal authorization is not needed if you have had device installed (1) one year from date of when your restricted license was reinstatement.” Grammar aside (”when your license was reinstatement?”), this actually contradicts what the web site says. But I think I’m going to the DMV tomorrow morning to get my restriction removed, and then I’ll call the car accessories store that I’ve been using and make an appointment for its removal (I may have to call SmartStart and have THEM schedule the appointment -- I replied to SmartStart’s email asking with whom I make the appointment, so we’ll see if they replay today).

But the one other major stress in my life is going away. Not that I’m afraid “I may be too drunk to drive” because THAT IS NOT HAPPENING AGAIN but that it has occasional errors, gives me an “ABORT TAMPER” message (which means it thinks I tampered with it somehow) when temps get below 20º, sometimes reboots itself mid-drive (it will test me after about 10 minutes of driving after I start, then about every 45 minutes thereafter to make sure I’m not drinking WHILE I’m driving). When I leave work on a cold morning, I could be sitting in my car for 4-5 minutes before the thing is ready for me to breathe into it -- as I sit there shivering, because without the engine on, the fan isn’t blowing in heated air, it’s just blowing in outside sub-freezing air (and frosting my interior windows as much as it had been outside before I scraped the ice off while waiting for the interlock to warm up).

So that other major stress will be gone soon, too. And then that whole nasty experience is behind me after two years, as long as I’m never stupid enough to do it again. And I do NOT plan on that. My thing is that...I have a co-worker who I used to offer rides to once in a while (I’m off 30 minutes before him, but sometimes I stay and gamble for a bit). He walks a couple miles to/from work. But he doesn’t know about my DUI, and I don’t want him to know about it. I did give him a ride ONCE since then when weather was particularly nasty, but I wend out and started my car while he played a daily tournament, and by the time he got to my car I had gotten it started after passing the breathalyzer. Then I just hoped that it wouldn’t test me before we got to where he lives (I hid the interlock under my seat while he was in there). Fortunately, it didn’t request a re-test until a few minutes after I had dropped him off.

[heysawbones]

Congratulations, Me; You’re Slow

Surprise, me! You’re literally slow. As in, your processing speed - the rate at which your brain takes in stimuli and makes sense of it - is below average. Quantitatively. The average is 100. Yours is 94. 

Three years ago, I was given a cognitive battery. I’ve had an unusually high number of these in my life. Most people will never have even one. I’ve had four; one to assess for the Gifted and Talented program in kindergarten, one to reassess for the same when I changed school districts, one to assess for ADHD, and yet another, the latest, to assess for the same, as the prior records were lost. ADHD runs in my family, but I seem to have been one of those kids who compensated really, really well. Was I organized? Not even a little. Lose things? Constantly. I procrastinated like a motherfucker, too, but it was usually easy to make up the work in class before it was due. I would drive hard to complete the GT project-based assignments at the last minute, and always did fine. Better than fine, even. Sure, I used to obsessively braid yarn or draw in class, but nobody had any reason to suspect I would have issues with things like maintaining attention or executive function later on. If they did, I never heard about it. Even today, it’s not obvious; people associate a certain flightiness with ADHD and that isn’t me. People associate a lot of things with ADHD that aren’t me. This has been so much of an issue, in fact, that despite meeting diagnostic criteria over and over, as admitted by clinicians, people have been hesitant to give me the diagnosis. The argument deployed tends to be: you have all the symptoms, but you also have chronic depression, which has the same symptoms, so we’ll just go with that one. The underlying rationale, the unspoken answer to “why can’t it be both? they often co-occur” seems to be: you are too articulate and self-aware to have ADHD. It boils down to you’re too smart to be slow. 

This is unfair to me, and demonstrably untrue, besides. I recognized this long ago. I am the one who has to figure out some way to compensate for the symptoms. Yes, the symptoms of depression and ADHD overlap (especially if you are depressed for a long time), but the treatment of those symptoms is not the same. I have been in treatment for depression for over ten years. Am I better than I was? Unquestionably so. 

Do I function at a level sustainable for an adult not on disability? Can I get places on time? Can I catch a plane without showing up 14 hours early, lest I show up 14 hours late, or at the wrong airport entirely, instead? Do I remember things people told me yesterday? Can I go to Target without the possibility of getting caught up in a weird cognitive trap where I want bananas, but am too guilty to buy them unless I do the rest of my grocery shopping, which I don’t have the mental energy for? Do I remember enough of my meds when I go on trips? Can I stop persistently putting things in places that make no sense, and then having no idea that I’ve done it 15 seconds later? Can I manage an adult’s schedule? Can I remember to pay bills on time? Can I remember what I’ve spent money on in the last week? Can I remember what I ate this morning? Can I hold down a job that is, honestly, below my abilities in many ways?

The answer is, of course, sometimes yes. Distressingly frequently, it is no. Where travel is concerned, it is always no, and somehow, I have managed to show up at the wrong airport entirely more than once. 

Yes, I recognize that these are problems all people have, to some degree, at some time in their lives. If people are willing to act on the belief that I am too smart to be slow, why is it that when I account for my concerns and attempt to articulate the impact they have on my life, I am suddenly not self-aware anymore, and am only overreacting to what obviously MUST be the same degree of these problems that other reasonable adults experience? Why am I credible in other areas, but not this one? If I am so smart, why is it assumed that I’ve failed to account for my own emotional bias when gauging the difficulty I am experiencing? Why is it more satisfying to assume that I am not trying hard enough, then it is to accept that a smart, self-aware person may, in fact, have some kind of Brain Problem that, really, there is no logical contraindication to, and much evidence, for? When I do the responsible thing and insistently pursue all reasonable options to address my mental and neurological health, with the goal of being a functional contributor to society, why is this so persistently reduced to a fetish specifically for an ADHD diagnosis? I’m smart when it’s convenient for others, but not when it comes to the ability to draw cause and effect relationships from my own behavior, and make comparisons between those and the behavior of others? If I got treatment that worked, I wouldn’t care what the diagnosis was. Come the fuck on. I’m tired of this.

-----

Anyway. I sat down with the results of that three-year-old cognitive battery. I’ve read the summary before; it’s peppered with lines like

“There is also considerable other evidence in this testing consistent with a diagnosis of ADHD”

“In my experience, some individuals who are very bright are able to compensate for some of their disability”

“this distribution of index scores is very typical of individuals with ADHD”

“Many of the behaviors she describes are certainly typical of individuals who suffer from ADHD. Unfortunately, the coexisting history of chronic major depression and PTSD make that differential diagnosis based on history alone difficult” 

When I first read that last year, I was shocked because the therapist who requested the cognitive battery, only expressed surprise that I was “very smart” and said that my “scores were fine.” When I later confronted him after having read the summary myself, he merely admitted that some of my scores were “lower than others”. He never entertained the possibility that I had ADHD, which in an of itself, wouldn’t have been a problem if he’d been willing to just try the treatments for it, since clearly the two industrial-strength doses of antidepressants I was already on, were not cutting it. Alas, he was not, and it wasn’t until after he retired that the issue was addressed again.

Surprisingly, I was not the person who addressed it. When my therapist-MD retired, I needed at least a primary care provider to manage my medications. Since the appointment was for psych med management, I had to fill out a bunch of related intake forms - you likely know the kind. While looking them over, my new doctor peered up at me and asked, “Has anybody ever suggested that you might have ADHD?” I was taken aback by the question and wasn’t sure where to start. Them? Asking me? if I have ADHD? She asked me? 

I told her that I’d had two full cognitive batteries done, and that both of them concluded roughly the same thing: yes, all the symptoms are there, no, we do not know if it’s ADHD because there’s too much background noise from other psych issues. Without skipping a beat, she said the most amazing thing to me: 

Well, whatever it is, you have the symptoms, so let’s treat them.

God. Why didn’t someone say that years ago? Diagnoses are human constructs; we use them to group symptoms that tend to occur together, when they’re thought to have the same causes. Depression and ADHD have many (but not all) of the same symptoms, but the overlap doesn’t qualify as a diagnosis because the causes are assumed to be different. I think we often forget that diagnoses are containers for commonalities that we use to make talking about medicine easier, not necessarily biological phenomena unto themselves. If you remember that they are containers - a sort of conceptual shorthand - then it follows that if one treatment for a set of symptoms isn’t solving the problem, you ought to try a different treatment often used for the same symptoms, even if the minutiae of diagnosis means you aren’t sure you can apply the diagnosis typically associated with that second treatment*.

I am now on Vyvanse. Does it magically solve my problems? No. Does it help? Yes. I am in a much better position to actually address the bad habits and coping mechanisms someone like me builds up over the years. The notable insomnia should wear off over time, and besides, as a person with an existing sleep disorder, having fucked up sleep isn’t new. It’s a price I’m willing to pay.

-----

Anyway. So I sat down with the results of that three-year-old cognitive battery, because I had to dig them up for my new therapist. Instead of reading the summary, I dug into the raw numbers: the related tests are the Weschler Adult Intelligence Scale IV (WAIS-IV), and the Weschler Memory Scale III (WMS-III). I couldn’t find sufficient guidance on interpreting the WMS-III, so I’ll stick with the WAIS-IV scores:

At first inspection, these scores do look “fine”. Anything within 10 points of 100 in either direction qualifies as “average”, even if 100 is “the average”. But on further reading, both in the summary and out: 

-Examination of these results reveals considerable significant variability between various functional capacities, with VCI of 141 a full 3 standard deviations above PSI of 94.** Problems with both working memory and processing speed impacted her overall IQ considerably, bringing her Full Scale IQ down to 120 (from 133). 

-A significant difference among subtest scores can suggest a problem in the particular skill being tested; this might underlie a learning disability. A significant difference among standard Index Scores might also indicate a learning disability, ADHD

-when I see a difference in IQ scores such that the verbal and nonverbal scores are far superior to the processing speed score, I try to discern what could be causing the discrepancy.

-LD diagnoses are also reliant on score discrepancies. On the WAIS, a gifted individual with ADHD may look like this.

Verbal comprehension - 132

Perceptual Reasoning - 129

Processing Speed - 97

Working memory - 101

Absolute scores aren’t the only diagnostic tool. Relative scores are also important. For example, average scores across the board wouldn’t be indicative of a working memory or processing speed issue, whereas great discrepancies between those parameters and others, is - even if the working memory and processing speed scores themselves are the same in both examples. What I’m saying is, it’s right there. It’s in the numbers. There’s no wiggle room. My old therapist saw these numbers, and not only did he choose not to act on the information, he pointedly refused to do so. If he hadn’t retired, I’d look into suing for malpractice. It’s in the god damn numbers, my dude. I don’t care what you want to call it, the deficit is right. there.

What did I ever do to him? Did he just... not believe ADHD is real? More to the point, did he think I somehow, without knowing the ins and outs of the WAIS-IV, faked the deficits or something? Really, guy, what the hell?

-----

Do I feel bad about being slow? Honestly, no. I might have if I found this out 10 years ago, or in circumstances wherein that reality didn’t perfectly explain aspects of my experience that other people have been prone to downplay, or dismiss entirely. Instead, it’s the closest I can get to scientific verification that I’m not just losing my shit over nothing over here; that something has, in fact, gone awry, and may always have been awry. I couldn’t compensate forever (though the ways I’ve done it are many, and in retrospect, interesting) and now I’m on the other end of it, trying to rebuild. I am, as I like to say, building an exoskeleton - something that will hold me up when my brain insists on faceplanting. I’m just grateful there’s someone out there who isn’t too caught up in the semantic navel-gazing of diagnosis, to help.

*There are obvious exceptions here, such as when the two diagnoses have causes whose treatment is contraindicated in the other diagnosis. This is not the case with depression and ADHD.

** You see that Percentile Rank of 34? That means I performed better than 34 percent of people my age, at least according to the test sample. That’s. Not great.

[tinkeringwithcannabis]

The First 90 Minutes Episode 33

Strain: Chuck OG

Company: Sira Naturals

Location: Somerville, Ma

Cannabis Connoisseur:  Shanae

Website: www.siranaturals.org

Hello again to all my cannabis loving and canna-curious friends, and welcome back to another episode of The First 90 Minutes! Today we will be toking and talking about a strain, which Leafly.com recommends for those seeking relief from cramps, depression, headaches, nausea, and pain, Chuck OG. This will be an extra special edition because I will be doing the review initially on the flower product, and then I will give you my thoughts on how it compares to the Chuck OG Terp Sauce cartridge by Sira Naturals. Ok, so this 50/50 Sativa/Indica hybrid strain is said to leave patients feeling uplifted, creative, relaxed, giggly, sedated, and hungry. I was unable to find a potential negatives list related to this strain, however, it’s parent strains Taho OG and Afghani Heirloom are said to cause potential dry mouth, dry eye, dizziness, headache, anxiety, and paranoia. Today I chose this strain to deal with a severe migraine headache that is also causing me severe nausea. My hope is that this will decrease the migraine to a point where I can at least function, and cut the nausea to where I can hold down food. I am having a lot of anxiety and experiencing a lot of stress because of the migraine discomfort, which has me feeling very physically and mentally tense. So fingers crossed, let’s jump right in to seeing what this bud can do! Now it’s time to light up, sit back, and relax, as we toke and talk about the first 90 minutes!

Diving right into the smell test, there is a definite a strong earthy aroma, followed by slightly piney scent emitted from this bud. I have read reviews that have said there is a grassy scent, I can see how this particular combination of the pine and earth could be perceived as such. Upon taking that taste test, I again taste a strong earthiness, but this is accompanied by a tartness followed by the pine undertones. For this session, I will be medicating via 4 hits from a joint. I am starting this session at 12:24 p.m., with 4 hits because I have used this strain before for this purpose. For my needs, 4 hits was what I needed. Starting out, I always recommend 1 to 2 hits. This flower is pretty smooth, and I am feeling an almost immediate and very subtle tingling sensation throughout my temples. Other than that, no other noticeable effects as of yet. At 12:34 p.m., my migraine is starting to subside slightly. I have extreme left ear pain with my mingraine and I am feeling a slight bit of relief from this as well. Throughout my body, each muscle is gradually relaxing more and more, and the tension is melting away. I feel like there are waves vibrating their way down into the core of my muscles. With the decrease in the migraine, the nausea has also started to decrease, allowing me to rest a little easier. I do not feel functional, but at this point I do feel that I am able to at least lay a little more comfortably while waiting for the effects of this session to intensify.

At 12:54 p.m., the migraine and head pressure have eased pretty significantly. I am still not at a functional point, but I am almost to a point where I would be able to get out of bed. I am experiencing some light sensitivity, but it has lessened. The nausea has almost completely subsided. As of right now my focus is not great, but it is difficult to tell whether this is strain-related, or migraine-relief related. My mood has improved, I feel calm and relaxed. My body is continuing to experience the rippling waves of relaxation. Each muscle feels loose, and my body has an almost “numb” feeling to it, and I feel as though most of the stress and tension have been released from my body. At 1:24 p.m., my migraine is almost completely gone. I am finding that despite a slight cerebral buzz, I am able to focus pretty well right now, compared to how I was earlier. I can actually carry on a conversation, or be in a room with noise and not feel like my head is going to explode. I have finally been able to get myself out of bed and downstairs to hangout in the livingroom, which did not seem like was going to happen. I am not experiencing any anxiety, and I feel very relaxed and happy. My nausea has subsided, and my appetite has returned, allowing me to eat something for the first time today. Although the relaxation “wave” sensation felt in the body seems to have stopped, my body feels relaxed and loose, very similar to how you would feel after a massage or chilling in a hot tub. Rounding into our 90 minute mark at 1:54 p.m., the effects are definitely mellowing into a more mellow and clear high. My body feels unbelievably relaxed and mellow, and my migraine and nausea have completely subsided. My mood is happy and calm, and despite feeling as though I can maintain conversation, I also am completely cool to just hang out and enjoy the quiet. I have not experienced any negatives on this strain at all. I feel very focused, and projects such as writing, or involving other creative ideas are on level with the mindset I am at with the effects at this point, but I could also see myself easily melting into the couch and letting my mind drift away for a while right now.

Now, before I jump into my final thoughts, I want to jump into a quick comparison of my experience with the flower to that with the Chuck OG Terp Sauce vape cartridge by Sira Naturals. So, how did the Terp Sauce cartridge compare to the flower? Well, it was pretty comparable as far as the timeline goes. The main difference I saw was a higher intensity in the effects of the cartridge versus the flower. I only needed two hits of the Terp Sauce versus four hits of the flower to meet my needs. Although I do love the flower version of Chuck OG, I have to say that the Terp Sauce cartridge is my favorite form of this strain. It is easily concealed and discreet, the aroma can only be noticed when vaping it and it disappears quickly. The flavor is on point with the flower, and all I need is to screw it into a battery and go.

On an overall level, this strain is absolutely amazing. It left me feeling stress and anxiety free, it provided me with an immense sense of relaxation, it boosted my appetite, resolved my nausea, and significantly helped with my migraine. Although I did not experience the creative mindset or giggles on this strain during this medication session, I did not feel that this was necessarily due to the effect not being present. I personally felt that the migraine and nausea symptoms were just too intense for those qualities of Chuck OG to come out at the time. In order to be sure, I decided to test this theory on a day where I felt better, with no migraine symptoms or nausea.

Upon testing this strain under these circumstances, I did find that I felt happy and upbeat and I found myself with a definite case of the giggles. I also found myself with a major creative buzz that left me working on my creative projects for hours. I have really found Chuck OG to be a five star strain with its ability to not only help me relieve my ailments, but to also kick back and enjoy on a day where I am hanging out with friends or working on something that requires a creativity boost. Sira, both the Chuck OG flower and the Terp Sauce cartridge are amazing, and I am really glad that you offer the flower and vape options for this strain for patients like me who may be looking for flower for evenings, but vape for busier times during the day when there may not be time to stop to roll a joint or pack a bowl. Again, I give both of these products 5 stars! Great job Sira, keep up the amazing work!

If you are a patient in Massachusetts, Sira’s Chuck OG Terp Sauce Cartridges and Chuck OG flower are sold at the following dispensary locations:

Sira Naturals:

Cambridge- Medical only

Somerville- Medical only

Needham- Medical & by appointment only

Well my friends, we have reached the end of this review. Thank you for joining me, and stay tuned for more product reviews!!

Disclaimer

*****Please remember, this blog is an account of my personal experience with this product. Not everyone has the same experience with every product, and that’s okay. I always recommend starting out with one to two hits to see if that is enough, and you can always increase your dose from there.*****

Also, if you find this post helpful, please help me get the word out to other patients by liking and re-blogging this post! Thanks!