#I COULD LITERALLY HEAR CLARA SAY 'SHUT UP' IN HER ACCENT

[christophcalledbingo]

The Guessing Game (Dr. King Schultz fic)

I’m not a native speaker of English (I am in fact Spanish), but I do try my best, so forgive me if there is any mistake. I’m also learning German because procrastinating by doing other things rather than college stuff is my jam. I think I’m going to do a second part of this, so I hope you like the first one!

Dr. King Schultz x original female character. 

Warnings: hints of depression, some verbal abuse and attempt of physical abuse and a lot of swearing.

Translations: 

Gute Nacht Fraulein - Good night darling

Sprichst du Deutsch? - Do you speak German?

Bitte - Please

Ja - Yes

Danke - Thank you

Dr. King Schultz is not mine (I wish, duh!)

Another night of pouring drinks for a living. I could not imagine that my life would turn out like this when first I arrived to America with my parents when I was a child. Now I’m completely alone and in a very urgent need of money, so I thought I could handle two jobs… I’m not going to lie, it’s actually pretty difficult being a teacher by day and bartender by night. You might be wondering how I ended up being a bartender, me, a woman. Well, nobody else wanted to do it so there was no objection for me take the part. It is very tiring job and most customers behave like pigs. Some nights I can handle it, other nights I just cry myself to sleep. It’s ok though, I do it for the kids. 

It is a lively Friday night, everybody is out. Being the only tavern open in such a small town is both convenient and a mess. A few bottles are thrown, many spits are being missed and a few tables are being turned in angry poker disputes. Being surrounded by so much uncontrolled testosterone gives me massive headaches, I wish I could go out for a smoke, but today there is nobody than can cover me at the bar. Suddenly someone catches my eye, a stranger enters through the door. I remember every face in this town and no many outsiders come here, but he is in fact a stranger, and quite handsome if I say so myself. He catches me looking at him and I blush slightly. He gets closer to the bar and I can see him clearly now. He looks physically mature but in his eyes look very young, and with a hint of trouble. Blue, brown and green. As if his eyes were a cup of green tea that had been sweetened with brown sugar, and in their reflection I could see a very blue and beautiful sky. He has a very well trimmed greyish beard and mustache, which actually frames his face in a very nice way. I think he is not American and when he opens his mouth my doubts are solved. 

“Gute Nacht, Fraulein.” German, huh. It’s been years since I’ve talked to another European, this is going to be interesting. 

“Good evening to you too, what can I get you?” I say, trying to make him notice that I understood him. 

“Oh! Sprichst du Deutsch?”

“A bit, I can understand it better than I can speak it though.” I feel like I just made a fool of myself, but at least it was a nice icebreaker. 

“So, you are not German, but I can tell than you are not American either.” He is very charming...

“What gave it away?”

“Not many Americans know German, I just took a wild guess.” He is very charming indeed. “From where in Europe are you from?”

“Try to guess” I say with a grin in my face, trying not to laugh. “Oh, wait…”

“Yes?” He says, looking directly at my eyes.

“You didn’t tell me what do you wanted to drink, let me fix it up for you while you guess.” He smiles warmly. 

“Pale ale, bitte.” That hint of German in the end makes my legs shake. 

“Right up!” I say, trying to hide the fact that I’m actually shaking. 

“So, you don’t have an American accent, that’s for sure. You are more like from the south, from the Mediterranean?” 

“Ja!” 

“You’re way of moving is quite rhythmical, not like an Italian though…”

“Nein.” As I say this, a drunk guy comes right at me, right when I’m in the middle of serving the ale, and grabs my hand from the other side of the counter. 

“DaMN! YoU are BEautifuL!” He is grabbing tighter, fingernails and all. I drop the glass, half full of bear, due to the pain.

“Please, let me go…” I say, trying to hold back my tears from the pain, my wrist is starting to bleed. 

Before I can say anything else, the handsome stranger grabs the drunk from the neck, but the latter is not letting me go, in fact he is grabbing tighter, and the wound gets deeper. 

“Let her go.”  Says the stranger with a very deep voice. 

“HeY HoN, Do YOu WanT to Go TO thE BAck aNd SuCk mY-”

Before he finishes that sentence, the stranger grabs the arm that was around my wrist and twists it, I hear a pop and then I’m free.

“MOTHERFUCKER! YOU BROKE MY ARM!” The pain must have made him sober all of a sudden.

“Next it’s going to be your nose if you don’t shut your mouth. I don’t tolerate the rude, even less when it involves hurting others.” He looks at me while I’m trying to stop the bleeding from my wrist. 

Everybody in the tavern is looking at us, not as if they want to start a fight, but as if they were amazed by the stranger, myself included. 

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!” My boss shouts as he appears from the other side of the room. 

“Sir, she has been hurt, I’m taking her to her home.” The stranger said, while helping me to get up.

“No way, I don’t have-” He shuts in an instant when he sees the other guy’s arm.

“What did you do to him?! Are you insane?! He is a client!”

“And she is your employee.”

“I’m going to call the sheriff!”

“Do it, call him…” I don’t know why, but the stranger is smiling. 

“Tom, go tell Sheriff Cooper that we need him, immediately.” And there goes Tom.

“I just got one question for you.” Says the stranger. 

“Huh? The fuck are you saying?”

“Are you Mr. Frank Last?” Why is he-

“Yes, I am. Why are you asking, old man?” Then, the handsome stranger looks at me, smiling.

“Let me introduce myself. I’m Dr. King Schultz, travelling dentist and bounty hunter. And you, my friend, have a price for your head: for breaking, entering and stealing on multiple houses, north of the river.”

“Wait, how the fu-”  He cannot finish his sentence. The strange- the doctor is so quick that I didn’t even notice that he had his gun out. He puts a bullet on my boss's right leg, making him fall to his knees.  

“AAAAAAAAAHHHH!!! SON OF A BITCH! YOU FUCKING SHOT ME!” There is blood all over the floor.

“WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE!!!!!” Sheriff Cooper is at the door, looking at all the mess. The doctor helps me to get to the sheriff, but he looks very calmed, which is a very huge contrast if we take into consideration the ambiance of the bar: tense as fuck. 

“Ah! You must be Sheriff Cooper. My name is King Schultz and I’m here to recover the bounty for Mr. Frank Last, a delinquent that has 500$ on his head.”

“What?!” The sheriff looks genuinely puzzled. 

“He is a criminal.” He hands a wanted poster of my boss’s face to the sheriff. “And also, that guy over there was trying to hurt this lovely lady.” With tears still in my eyes I look at the sheriff and nod. The sheriff sighs.

“Ok people, this establishment is closed until further notice.” Everybody shouts and screams, but there is nothing they can do about it. 

...

The handsome doctor asks me where I live, and I just tell him, no doubts or hesitations, I just want to get home. We enter my cold and tiny home and he asks me for a first aid kit or any supplies that may help to cure my wounds. I tell him that everything he might need is in the bathroom, and so he leaves me alone in my kitchen. 

“Got it!” He shouts in the distance after a couple of minutes. 

As he examines my wound, I look at his face, which is truly focused on my hand. I see his eyes flickering with excited concentration.

“That detestable man had dirt on his nails and now the wound is infected.” Of course it is, all the bad stuff happens to me.

“You said you were a dentist, right?”

“Ja”

“Isn’t curing wounds more of a ‘doctor doctor’ thing?” He bursts into laughter. 

“Of course, but you do not start working in the bounty hunter business if you don’t know how to cure a basic wound.” I just made a fool of myself, again. “And also, dentists also need to know how to cure wounds. If you saw the kind of mouths I’ve seen, truly disgusting.” As he says this, he starts to disinfect, and I try my best to hold the pain.

“...Spanish”

“Huh?”

“I’m from Spain, but I moved here with my family when I was very young.”

“How interesting, I’ve never been to Spain… Is it nice there?”

“I don’t remember much, but I do remember the nature, the sun and the breeze. Much more steady than here, that’s for sure.”

“It sounds lovely.” He has finished to cure my wound and has putted a bandage on my wrist to protect it from further infection.

“By the way, the name is Clara, Clara Valle. However, everybody is so funny around here that they call me ‘Claire of the Valley’.”

“But… we are on a mountain?”

“It makes no sense, I know. It’s just the literal translation of my surname”

“Well, Clara, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He grabs the hand that is not injured and kisses my palm, I blush a lot. No one has never been such a gentleman to me, I quite like it. 

“The pleasure is mine. How should I call you? Is Dr. Schultz ok?”

“Just call me King, if you want of course.”

“Danke, King.” He turns away as if is looking for something, when in truth he is hiding the fact that he is blushing. I can see it in his ears, they are completely red.

“For what?”

“Saving me? Curing the wound? I don’t know, you name it. Most of the times working at the tavern is bearable, but it’s nice to know that someone has your back.” I say, looking at the ground. Half ashamed that I needed help today, half happy that it was him who came to the rescue. 

“You don’t have to thank me, it was the least I could do. They were behaving like neanderthals, absolutely detestable.”

“I couldn’t even serve you your drink!”

“That is the least of your worries. Being completely honest, I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.” Oh my Lord, is he flirting with me? I just stay in silence, I don’t know what to say… If I open my mouth it would be to press it against his, but that is a very bold move. I just met him! I don’t know if he finds me attractive enough, no one ever does... “Well, I should get going then.”

“Wait! You could sleep here if you don’t have anywhere to do it. My sofa is quite comfortable. I could sleep in it and you could sleep in my bed. It’s the least I can do…” I stop talking when I realise that he is smiling, a very wide smile, and that he is looking at me in the eyes. “I’m so sorry if that was inappropriate! I was raised that way, I’m very direct!” I’m practically shouting because of the embarrassment. 

“I can see that, but don’t worry. I will go to the inn and stay there for a few nights, preparing for my next travel.”

“Oh…” It was obvious, but somewhere inside of me hoped that he would stay.

“Well, if there is nothing else you need help with-”

“Actually, I cannot move my hand very well as you can imagine. Could you help me untie my corset?” I say, while I grab my hair and show him my back.

He says nothing, he just gets close to me and starts to undo the knots of the corset. It is convenient that I’m no facing him, because my face is red once again. I can feel his breath in my neck. I also feel like fingers brushing my back intentionally, but I’m a bit scared of my own feelings, so I just ignore it. I do everything I can to hide my face and my intentions until he finishes.

“There you go, glad that I was able to provide some further assistance. Goodbye then, dear Clara.” He says, while looking at the floor.

“King, could we meet before you leave town?” He raises his head and he looks at me while I hold my loose corset to my chest.

“Of course. In fact, I can look for you tomorrow. We could go for a cup of coffee, if you want.”

“That would be truly delightful.”

[patriciahaefeli]

A Cautionary Tale? A Love Story? You Decide

It's been one of those rollercoaster weeks, one that began with a great deal of pain, which I tried to ignore at first, so as not to ruin my 17- year old’s already Corona-compromised birthday party. At some point during our 5 p.m. family Zoom celebration, I quietly left the room and went upstairs to lie down, writhe in pain, get back up, bend over, moan, repeat. This continued through the night Monday – and at one point, I remember thinking that labor wasn’t this bad and that I should probably go to the emergency room. In this new world we’re in, that thought was quickly dismissed by one word: COVID. I paced the floor at 3 a.m., alternately moaning and then bopping my head and sort of softly singing what kept running through my head, which was the chorus of The Knack’s 1979 hit song, “My Sharona.” Only my version went “My Corona.” Yes, even while suffering, I’m clever that way. 

By Tuesday morning the pain had subsided. I was exhausted however, and slept throughout the day. “Tricia! Drink this! Jesus, she’s burning up.” It was the alarm in my husband’s voice that I responded to more than the command. I sat up, drank the water he was holding out to me, and when I caught my reflection in the mirror over the dresser I had the brief, feverously detached impression of someone who’d sat under a sun lamp for too long. Sun lamp, the words made me almost giggle out loud. Sun-lamp, sun-lamp, sun-lamp…Does anyone even know what that is anymore? A few hours later I had a virtual appointment with my regular GP, during which the decision was made for me to go to the office first thing Wednesday for a full exam. My instructions (my fever-addled brain again added the words “should I choose to accept them” - hehehe), for entering the building would come in the form a text. 

My office exam was efficient and thorough. Upon arrival, I called the office and someone met me at a side door. As we were both masked and gloved, we nodded and murmured muffled greetings. Two PAs and an MD palpated my tender abdomen while I stifled screams. They decided that I should have a C-T scan that day, with the expectation that the offending culprit was a kidney stone. As many radiology facilities are currently closed, it took a few hours for them to locate one that would take me. My scan took place at 4:30. I was the last patient of their day. 

 Fast forward to 6:30 p.m. Wednesday evening. I picked up the call, which was remarkable in itself because anyone who knows me knows how irritating it is that, a) my phone is always on silent mode, and, b) I rarely answer numbers I don’t recognize. It was another doctor from Vanguard, calling to let me know that my C-T scan showed no evidence of kidney stones – “Yay!” BUT, he cut in, it did show acute appendicitis. What I needed to do, he said, was to go directly to the nearest ER. 

So here’s where this story really begins, because I was about to get a reality check regarding the difference between the inconveniences of “social distancing” and quite literally, matters of life and death. For those of us who are shuffling around at home in our sweatpants, eating too much, complaining about the buffoonery of our President, laughing at all the funny memes, and who are, to one degree or another, COMPLETELY OBLIVIOUS to the fact that health care workers do not have the luxury of ANY of that, here’s the newsflash: The Corona virus has virtually SHUT down normal operations for hospitals and surgical facilities, so if you’re also laughing in the face of social-distancing guidelines, and just can’t wrap your head around the possibility of contracting this deadly disease, know this too: If you break your arm, or your spouse has a heart attack, or your child’s strange rash won’t go away and you’re just really concerned, good luck. We are NOT in Kansas anymore, peeps. 

 I considered doing a bit of a negative a rant on the first hospital that I went to here, but perhaps that wouldn’t be fair. “The nearest ER” for me would have been another hospital, but due to their somewhat dubious reputation, we opted to go just a bit farther away. The best thing I can say about that experience was that the safety protocols to enter the ER were impressive. Picture the scene in E.T. where the Hazmat-suited guys from the space program find out about him and “invade” the house in a tunnel of white - then picture the people standing six feet apart outside of say, ShopRite, only these people don’t look so great. They’re kind of bent over, or swaying, or leaning on someone else. Then count your blessings that your gut hurts and you’re not bleeding out…or struggling to breathe. 

Three hours later, after they’d reviewed my scans and completed all of the necessary pre-op tests (blood work, EKG, urine analysis), I got the word that most of the ORs were being used as ICUs for COVID patients, and they were only doing “emergent” surgeries. They sent me home with massive doses of antibiotics, and a referral to see their staff general surgeon - outpatient. 

I figured they were right, too. Must not be very serious. I was doing well with that notion until the following morning, when I heard the barely concealed shock in the voice of my regular MD.  

“Did they see your scans?” his tone serving only to increase my anxiety. 

 “Yeah. But my appendix hasn’t exploded yet.” I said. 

 “Ah,” he sighed, “I know things are being handled differently in the ‘current environment,’ but last time I checked, acute appendicitis was emergent.” 

Okay, pay attention now, because here’s where it gets really interesting: See if you can answer his parting questions: 

 “Do you have a general surgeon? Preferably one with their own facility?” 

 So, do you? And if you do, are you sure they’re even open right now? I sure as hell didn’t (and the name they gave me at the hospital turned out to be for a doctor whose answering machine told me he was not seeing new patients). And the idea that it was now pretty much my problem to solve was a little intimidating – especially for someone who generally needs to be told that they’re sick (enough) or in (enough) pain to seek help—but that’s another story. Now that doctor, who I respect and like a lot, said he’d be trying to find me one, but that I should do my research as well. 

 My husband and I made a fairly long list of people/places to call, and split it. Those we were able to reach at all offered possible solutions to my dilemma, but each dead-ended pretty quickly. I focused on the task now, trying to ignore what it might mean that the ache in my belly seemed to be spreading down my right leg. 

As of this writing, I have yet to hear back from my regular GP and yet, here I sit, post-op, able to get this down mostly because of a Facebook message I sent to one of the nurses in the Belleville Public School district. The only real help I got came from her, a nurse, who responded immediately to an “in-boxed” message, and kept responding for the next hour, sending me the names and phone numbers of doctors (sometimes with their credentials!), links to possible facilities, and words of encouragement. She gave me her personal cell phone number and encouraged me to call it if I had questions and/or to let her know how it was going. I felt like she meant it, too. I also think she was responsible for the first in a series of serendipitous events that just may have saved my life. One of the names she gave me turned out to be the dad of one of my kid’s friends. 

 At that point, things happened pretty quickly. I called him (at home) and told him my situation. In a matter of 20 minutes, he had my scans and had booked  a time slot for me for same-day surgery at Clara Maass. He’s a high-energy, outgoing kind of guy, and although I’d stood on sidelines with him and his lovely wife at many a sports event, I don’t know him well enough, nor did I think it was appropriate to laugh out loud when he laid out the plan: “With everything going on, I just really want to do you – and get you the hell out of there!” 

So here I am, more grateful to him than I can possibly express and having some time to consider just how random and crazy and dangerous that whole situation was (turns out, my appendix had begun to perforate after all, and the real fun was just beginning) and how fortunate I am. 

 But the real heroes here - Oh, and God, aren’t we all a little sick of the “hero” thing? – well get over it, and listen up! From the minute I walked through the door of Clara Maass yesterday, my experience was the best it could possibly have been. The nurses! OMG the nurses - I was in pre-op for hours. Lucky as I was to have been squeezed in to an already crowded surgical schedule, the truth of the matter was that my presence had required a quick shifting of resources—stretchers and space and - nurses. My sudden appearance in the queue was inconvenient, possibly even annoying. And yet all of them, including the nurse who ran the OR, came by to check on me, to give me extra blankets, to chat with me, and laugh with me. A friend’s daughter-in-law, who is a nurse there, got a text from him and even she came from three floors below just to say hello and charm me with her Australian accent and tired-but-twinkling blue eyes. I swear, for me? The whole experience was a cross between a weirdly sterile spa stay, and – as mine all happened to be women - a girls’ sleepover with your best girlfriends—only these were women I'd just met (but they’d also pretty much seen me naked, so, there’s that…). 

Most of them were nearing the end of a 12-hour shift. As I lay there, relaxed and warm, reading and texting, they race-walked back and forth among those of us who waited, or were recovering. I lost count of how many times one of them asked me if I was okay, or if I needed something. They ate their dinners on the move, taking bites and then sprinting off, tearing off one set of gloves, putting on another. These people Do. Not. Sit. The sink was right near my bed, so I saw a lot of hand-washing traffic too, and a lot of red, chapped, over-sanitized hands. They spoke in soothing voices to those who were waiting, and possibly scared, and loud-enough voices for those emerging from the cloud of anesthesia to understand. Sometimes they shouted good-natured complaints to one another, or teased one another – and me, as when one started repacking those bags they give you for your clothes, amusement in her voice as she yelled, “What the hell did you do here, shove it all in like a little kid? Your purse is open – Maria, come over here and see this – she’s a mess!” Hahahaha! One came by and pointed to the cover of the book I was reading entitled “The Silent Patient”, and joked “That’s the kind we like!” 

I even began to wonder if what I was getting was “special treatment” reserved for those whose surgeries were personally called-in by the surgeon. Once he arrived, however, it was clear that not only did they not know he was the one who got me in, but they chided him in the same affectionate way. At a point, I said to one of them, “Doctors think they’re all that, but nurses really run the show don’t they?” She winked at me and elbowed me a little, “Like husbands, honey – they just think they’re in charge!” 

I lounged, for over four hours while they stood on what had to be tired feet, hands on hips as they talked to me, telling me which part of the hospital they’d spent the morning in, or where they were headed next in this crazy, all-hands-on-deck environment. We chatted about jobs and kids, and only when the topic of this deadly disease came up did the lack of words become conspicuous. Then it was all a mime of sad shakes of the head and downward glances. 

It occurs to me today that after all of this, I'm not sure I would recognize any of them tomorrow if I saw them on street – nor they me. Of course, we were all masked. But maybe I would – if I could see their eyes again. And I'm not exaggerating when I say that most of all, those eyes conveyed a profound kindness. And laughter, and concern, and compassion, and dedication—and a toughness that allows them to do it all. 

I'll tell you a secret: I am a person who often has a weird response to unexpected kindness - it makes me cry. I welled up more than once yesterday afternoon. I may have been just one of many for them – this is just what they do - but for me, a bond was made. I will always remember them. 

Make no mistake: it’s no hardship to be home in your sweatpants with your gel manicure looking a little ratchet, and your spouse and kids seeming more like houseguests who have overstayed their welcome. Today, I want you to feel really, really blessed and grateful, and if you’re like me, a generally healthy person who never really gave too much thought to the job that these people do, I hope I was able to convey just a little of it. 

That school nurse who rescued me put it this way: “I took an oath when I graduated just as physicians do. I have followed it for 28 years and it has never let me or my patients down.” That whole oath thing is good and important and all, but the heart behind it gives it grace. 

So, if you get an invitation to do one of those car processions where you beep your horn and cheer for the local health care workers as they go in to, or leave, work– get in your car and go. Or, just mail them each a check for a million dollars. Either way.

[lyralumina]

How about some azure shipping headcanons about couples’ fashion, what happens when they get stressed out, who could beat who in a fight, and what kinds of books they read?

~ 🔷 Azureshipping Headcanons you shall receive! 🔷 ~ 

- 💠Psst! fellow Azureshippers, come to me with any headcanons for them, They are my OTP and I am always happy to respond or read your headcanons.💠 ~ 

Couples Fashion:Unfortunately, Seto and Anzu are quite old fashioned and are not really into the whole “lets match outfits” unlike Yugi and Atem or Jounouchi and Mai. Instead they match color schemes and try to complement each others outfit if they will be together. So lets say if they were to go to a lavish dinner party/banquet, If Seto is going to wear a dark blue suit with gold here and there, Anzu will wear a dark blue dress with gold accessories. They are not the couple to wear “He’s mine” “She’s mine” tee shirts, they leave that for the younger and immature crowd, like Yugi and Atem oh do they love those awful tee shirts. It disgusts Seto and makes Anzu somewhat cringe. How dreadful. Seto’s attitude and tastes are starting to rub off on her.

I have some examples of what I mean with whole “ They accent each other “ trope, 

“ Oh dear god its Yugi and Atem, act natural my dear. “

“ What do you mean that Pegasus wants to talk to my husband? “

“ Anzu my love, are you sure you really want to visit Yugi and his grandfather in this weather? “

What They Do When They Get Stressed Out: 

- Seto once stressed out, 

“Please my love, come to bed you have worked for far too long. ” Anzu softly pleaded, by the gods did she not expect her husband to be still awake and on the verge of collapse at 3AM. As his eyelids started to get heavy from the lack of sleep, his eyes then shot up and so did he. Seto jumped up alarmed to hear his wife’s plead. By the gods what was she doing up still? She should be asleep by this hour. She has to wake up in two hours. Seto scooted his chair back and tried to get up quickly to rush to his wife who should in fact be in bed already but his right leg unfortunately had fallen asleep. He crumpled and hit the right side of his face on the edge of his desk. He had little time to react, it only took a matter of two seconds for him to make impact with the cold hard desk. The hit was enough to make him go unresponsive as well. This was a first for him and for his poor wife who laid witness to his unfortunate struggle.The last thing he heard before he blacked out just seconds after the collision to the ground and from the hit was his wife’s shrill scream, she screamed his name in terror. Is this what he deserved? Is this what he deserved for not listening or caring for himself? Did he deserve this?

- Anzu once stressed out,

“ Anzu! By the gods you need rest my dear! ”Holiday season, a time were a dancer’s life is hectic. Where the normal and average person would finally get rest while she had no time for such luxury. Where her mind replayed technical Choreography, where she had to remember certain notes on how to perfect herself in every single number she was in. How her head just hurt from strain. How her body ached of so much tire and stress. How she no longer ate as much as she used to and that is stretching it because she barely ate so much, she eats less than the average human. She ate just as much as her own husband, a small amount. She limited herself so much that it worried her husband greatly but he knew that it was all for a reason. Anzu, his wife, a Principal dancer within the Domino City Ballet, dancing the role of Clara from the classical ballet The Nutcracker. Anzu being Domino City’s prime ballet dancers and an international ballet icon is something that she holds with pride. It was all for good reason though and she had to remind her worried husband that her so called pain and tire will make others happy. Seto can only sigh in distress and remind her that she must remember to take breaks here and there. The words that seethed from his lips meant so little since around this time as well, Kaiba Corporation and most importantly her husband was just as busy as she was but for the sole reason that holiday season means children are eager to buy whatever their small hands can get, anything from Kaiba Corporation is on their Christmas lists. Seto having to stay up late into overtime and into the late night hours just to make sure things get done smoothly and without any problems. Anzu begged and prayed that her husband would rest but all she can do is remind him to take breaks here and there, only time will tell if he will heed to her words.

- ✨ The stories are connected actually. Anzu’s comes first while Seto’s is the aftermath. ✨ - 

Who Could Beat Who In A Fight:

- Duel Monsters (Dueling) wise it will be Seto. Anzu has a better deck once they start officially dating though. Anzu has the Dark Magician Girl as her Deck Master but never did it occur to her husband that she would also have all Magician Girls and even the coveted Dark Magician in her deck. Seto has no idea how she even got the Dark Magician in her deck and when he tried talking to Yugi or Atem about it they literally have no clue either. Last thing he suspects is that Pegasus gave her that card as a gift but who honestly knows. His wife wont even tell him how either. Its a mystery. She might not be the greatest duelist yes but she can certainly pack a punch when needed. She also has the Gem Dragons within her deck as well which she loves with all of her heart. Seto honestly loves it when she summons them out because he just loves Dragons and his wife knows that. 

- In terms of verbal “fights/spats” it will be Anzu. Seto will hardly ever result into argument unless it just slips out or he needs to stand his ground. His wife is stubborn as well so tensions can rise once they are engaged into a verbal fight. The atmosphere can quickly change too and no one likes it when they are caught between the cross fire because these two can spit venom like if its nothing. It can go from all tease to “ You will be sleeping on the couch tonight if you dare raise your voice at me again . “ -Anzu 

- In terms of who is going to be on top and who is going to be on the bottom for sexual intercourse it honestly depends on if they are in the mood. If they are not too tired and who wins a round of verbal big talk. Anzu will usually be the bottom and Seto will be the top but there are times where Anzu will be in full control and those are the real good times. Turns out that his wife is just as dominant as he is and it’s great.

What Kind Of Books Do They Read:

“ Anzu that is the sixth time you have read A Walk to Remember, do you ever pick up and read more drama filled books? ” Seto chuckled as he watched his wife pick up the paperback book. His comment earned him a playful smirk from his wife.“ That means little coming from the man who has read The Great Gatsby and To Kill A MockingBird over twenty times. “ His wife teased him as she walked over to her husband who was lying on the couch and took up the entire couch as a matter of fact, his head resting on the right arm of the couch. She stopped in front of him and leaned down to kiss her husband’s right cheek. Seto closed his eyes and chuckled. It was a genuine chuckle. It was surprising. He honestly thought she would throw a book at him to tell him to shut his mouth but the kiss will always be one hundred times better than a book to the face.