#ILL UPDATE ONCE THEY FIX APPLE

[juice-ity]

OK SO, I AM CURRENTLY FINISHING EP 67 OF RIPTIDE AS EVERYONE KNOWS I THINK (IVE TALKED ABOUT IT A LOT FOR SOME REASON) AND IM GOING TO MAKE THIS PREDICTION NOW BEFORE IT GETS REVEALED

APPLE IS 10000% PAPA TIDESTRIDER AKA FINN TIDESTRIDER POLYMORPHED INTO A BIRD I HAVE TO BE RIGHT ABOUT THIS IT FOLLOWS GILLION AROUND AAND STUFF AND ITS… BLUE…

IM SO RIGHT ABOUT THIS I KNOW I AM

[thatoneguydownthestreet]

Yo! I really love your apocalypse yuu writings I keep coming back to see if it has updated.

I read the Lilia finds out part and when I read the "Epel gave Yuu an apple and he didn't know what it was" it got me thinking about it all night.

How would the first years react to Yuu not eating anything at all(probably other than bread) because he doesn't know what those foods are?

________________________________

FEM ALIGNED DNI

Yuus pronouns are he/him, although they're mentioned briefly

This is barely proofread so please excuse the grammar mistakes.

Featuring: Epel, Ace, Duece, Jack, and sebek (there is implied lilia at the very end but it is literally one sentence)

Warnings: Talks of starvation, Yuu's illness, and survivers guilt, so skip this if you're uncomfortable with any of that.

Also I know it's been over a month. I have no excuse. I just didn't feel like it. But I have been teaching myself how to draw so I can be a bigger simp to Jamil so that's fun ig.

________________________________

Damn bro, you really don't know shit huh?

Epel was excited, to say the least.

I mean, could you really blame him? It's not everyday that you get a big ol' crate full of the apples that you were raised with.

By all means, epel should've been long sick of eating apples. Having them almost everyday for majority of his life, dried and dehydrated in the winter, and fresh and juicy in the spring and summer.

But no, no epel felmeir loves those apples. Every single one he ate seemed to effortlessly send him back to the simpler times of his childhood. Where he would send hours upon hours avoiding his siblings and playing games with his cousins in the orchards and taking naps in the sun while he waited for his meemaws infamous apple pies to finish baking. And meemaw would almost always let him have the first slice! Of the ones she wasn't going to sell at least.

He really missed her...

He'd have to ask her to bake him another one this winter.

But just getting to read the letter she had wrote, along with his parents and one of the towns kids that always followed him around like a lost baby duck, put a smile on his face.

Yeah. He'd get to see them soon, and once he graduates, he can get them more money, and be strong enough to protect them if it ever came to that.

Unfortunately, as great as his parents apples were, they couldn't fight the natural forces of time.

Dear sevens- they'd sent him nearly three dozen apples! All high quality too... it shouldn't effect sales too much. The orchards were big, and his parents would rather give up that expensive family heir loom necklace that his mother always wore than start selling spoiled apples.

But still, epel couldn't possibly eat thirty-six apples before they all started to rot. Plus, he didn't know how long they took to ship to the isle of sages, so that cut the time frame even shorter.

.....Does Jack like apples?

Should he even be considering giving Jack an apple to begin with? Their relationship was pretty vague. We're they actually friends or just study buddies?

Study buddies can give eachother gifts too right? And plus, it's food, not a 24 carrot gold ring or something crazy like that.

It should be fine. Maybe he'll give one to ace too. They were friends. Surely.

.

.

.

Ace trappola would say he was a good friend. I mean, he wasn't the best by any means, but he was decent.

Yeah, he could be kind of a dick. But who isn't at this point, honestly, even deuce, even cater had their moments.

But he was still someone the people in his life could go to for things, usually physically, tangible this like food or an extra ball or something, but he wasn't completely useless when it came to emotions either.

You could come to him if something was bothering you. He probably won't help you actually fix it but he can at least make you laugh.

So why didn't you want to laugh?

You had taken your mask off a few weeks ago. And like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on him he realized it was the first time he ever saw you eat any food here at all.

Were you eating at all before then? What about water?

Thank the seven you were only here for around a week. But surely, you were dehydrated.

(You were definitely dehydrated. Deuce gave you a water bottle and you chugged it like it was your only chance at life. Which, to be fair, it probably was your only chance at life.)

Ace didn't know what your life was like before.

Ace didn't want to know either.

He didn't do well with heavy topics, always changing the subject when one came up unless he was personally involved in some way.

Other people life didn't concern him, and that was something he lived by.

...but still.

This was going a bit too far, don't you think?

Ace shot a look to deuce, clear concern instead of the regular teasing, which caught his roomates attention faster than he thought it would.

Ok. So deuce had noticed too.

Just goes to show how obvious it was that something is very wrong here.

Now, because ace had never asked, and he probably never will, he didn't know what your relationship with food was like before you came here. But. It couldn't have been this right?

A person couldn't only survive on some bread and room temperature water, right?

You sat across from him at your guy's unofficial table in the cafeteria, drinking the water at a moderate pace, as you didn't want to deal with another scolding from a certain housewarden, doing your best to keep a careful eye on grim as he went to go get his food from the lunch line.

And thank the seven for that, really. If grim turned back and saw that you weren't watching him for even a second, who knows that kind of ruckus would result?

But all that aside, you were still scarily underweight. Seriously perfect, how were you even alive?

Ace looked at deuce again. Deuce looked back.

He sighed.

Ace never, ever thought he would do something like this.

But for sevens sake, you were one of his best friends. And Ace will be damned if he just let you do this to yourself.

So with a deep breathe, he looked at you, and then turned back to what he was pretty sure was an ex-gang member, and nodded.

And for once, deuce understood.

They had to do something.

.

.

.

You reminded Deuce Spade of that stray cat that his mother would always feed when he was a child.

Underweight, scared, scarred, and confused.

Always having an air if caution and paranoia, ready to react, as if anything could just jump out and grab you at any time.

But you weren't a cat, were you?

No. You were a person. Someone his age, maybe younger, that had obviously seen horrors he couldn't even understand. Which just made this whole situation even sadder.

Because if you lived like this, then what the hell was stopping him? What about his mother? What was stopping her from having the same fate?

Duece ignored the memories of his mother giving him food and taking none for herself, saying she wasn't hungry.

But he couldn't quite ignore them, nor could he ignore the pit in his stomach whenever he looked at you.

...Listen perfect, he doesn't know what you went through to be like this, but he knows damn well this isn't normal.

It can't be normal. Hiding this much food underneath your floorboards couldn't ever be normal.

The two of you were just hanging out in your room in Ramshakle. Grim was in the lounge, he was sure, and you had stared off into space before asking the date.

When he told you, you had a look of slight panic as you ripped the rug off from its place on the floor, and started pulling apart the boards.

And what for?

The reveal of a large stash of food, mostly non-perishables, but a few snacks here and there too.

Snacks that were about to expire, apparently.

You turned to look back at him, a sheepish look on your face, and what looked like a bag if chips in your hand.

Deuce didn't know what face he was making.

He just knew it wasn't one he'd want you to see

.

.

.

If someone were to ask Jack howl if he was your friend. He wouldn't know to to say.

I mean yeah, you helped save his entire dorms ass way back when, yeah, you and him absolutely went throught it during azuls little "episode", and yeah, the two of you had plenty of mutual friends.

But we're the two of you friends?

Jack wasn't sure.

Because by all accounts, you should be.

It didn't change the fact that you weren't. Not really. Not by his definition and not by yours.

So what were you?

Well, you weren't friends. That was already established. And you were too close to be acquaintances (he didn't think acquaintance fell asleep on each other in the botanical gardens, only to wake up five minutes till curfew and just haul ass back to their respective dorms with smiles on their faces), so...what did that leave?

Well... I guess it left this.

"Eat it"

"....huh?"

Jack didn't know you that well. But that didn't mean he couldn't see..this happening. And it definitely didn't mean he didn't care.

So here he was. Holding a pastrami sandwich about an inch away from your face, silently begging you to just shut up and eat it.

Come on perfect, he bought this with his own money. Just humor him, please.

You eyed the sandwich like it was the most untrustworthy thing you'd ever seen. Jack's not going to lie, it kind of hurt.

But it wouldn't matter if you ate it, so he sucked it up.

...at least he would if you'd actually take the fucking sandwich.

Seriously, it was starting to tick him off.

Jack briefly considered just varying off and giving the sandwich to ruggie or something, or just eating it himself. He wasn't the biggest fan of pastrami but who knows, maybe the school made it better.

Honestly, he probably would have done just that if the image if you leaning against the wall looking ready to pass out from, what he knew, was malnutrition.

The event itself actually happened around two weeks ago, give or take. Jack thinks the only real reason he remembers it so well is because, well, it was the moment.

The defining moment, the moment where it just clicked that something was very wrong here.

He already knew that of course, I mean, look at you.

But as it turns out, watching someone actively starve to death in front of you will keep you up at night.

His mind turned to ruggie for a split second, before forcibly shoving that thought down where all the other thoughts he didn't want to think about were.

Like that time when he was a kid with a crush on Vil....yeah, Jack's happy he got o er that one to say the least. Nothing against Vil, he's a great friend and all (they were friends right?), but them in a relationship? Yeah. No. Not happening. No thankyou.

...yeah.

Jack mentally slapped hi.self and proceeded to shove his weird thoughts down yet again and refocus on getting his not-quite-friend to eat.

You were leaning back a lot farther than you were a second ago, if you did that anymore you'd probably just end up on the ground.

...jack sighed. This was going to take a while wasn't it?

By the end of the lunch period, you had come to a compromise, jack you slip the sandwich with you and take the other half for himself.

You ended up splitting your half with grim, who reluctantly took it. You had actually eaten yours too!...after you took the while thing apart and inspected and obsessed over it like how he'd seen Rook do to his housewardens that one time!

But still, it was something.

It was a start. And that's really all he could ask for at this point.

.

.

.

Sebek didn't notice anything about you at first. And he didn't particularly care much either. He was a guard for sevens sake! He had a deep responsibility!

He had a crown prince, that he oh so admired, to protect! Not to mention silver, who he had to wake up at every given turn, and not to mention Lilia, who had recently been going harder on their training sessions.

So to waste his time with a human? With a weak little human that didn't even come close to his current list if priorities?

That's time he simply did not have!

...So why was he here?

He was supposed to be looking for his charge. His charge, who always seemed to wind up around the old, abandoned Ramshakle building and just dissappear in the nick of time.

It had been happening more and more lately, especially since that new perfect moved in.

He would be lying if he said he cared too much about him. Again, he didn't have time to be curious about some strange human boy with some strange past.

But still, he couldn't quite contain the way he jumped back when he'd first seen them.

Whoever he was, he looked so...sick.

...he didn't have time for this.

Turning back on his heel, he refocused his mind on finding his lord again, and quickl- wait- silver. Oh great sevens. Silver wake up!

Ok. Sebek really didn't have time for this.

...and yet.

Here he was, standing next to you, arms out ready to catch you at a moments notice if you really were going to collapse like he thought you were.

He hadn't been this close to you before.

And now he could see that you weren't just sick.

Great seven, you looked like you were dying...

Sebek zigbolt had always known humans were weak, fragile creatures. Never able to even light a candle next to faeries. Never able to light a candle next to him, and certainly not his young master.

But this was just pushing it.

Sebek was stronger than his human counterparts. He would long outlive them. He thought of silver for the shortest second and then quickly pushed that thought to the side. This was not the time. Buteven with those facts, sebek still knew that humans weren't made of fine glass. Even if the people in his homeland liked to act like it, Sebek still knew that humanity wasn't completely hopeless.

One strong gust of wind wouldn't knock them over.

One missed meal wasn't enough to do detrimental damage to their health.

Pulling one all nighter would barely put a dent in their day to day lives, aside from the obvious fatigue and.

But with you?

With you? Alwats looking like you could kneel over and die then and there on the classroom floor?

...

Sebek want so sure anymore.

.

.

.

Epel had eaten more apples than any normal person should ever be able to eat.

Sevens help him, his stomach.

Despite the waves of pain that shit through him every now and then, epel wasn't mad.

Yeah, maybe eating a whole eight apples in the span of two hours wasn't his smartest idea, but the sweet nostalgia that seemed to wash over him and warm his very soul? Yeah no, it was worth it.

So no. Epel felmeir wasn't mad.

And laying in a bed that was much too soft for his taste, a direct contrast from the slightly itchy blankets and the hard mattresses back home, epel glance over to the almost empty crate of apples that were sitting just under his work desk.

...As much as Epel wanted to eat them, he wanted to do this even more.

Epel sat up, ignoring his stomach pain the best he could, and began a mental list of all the people he knew. And then a silent debate over who deserved his families apples in the first place.

Ok. First up Ace.

Epel would say they were friends. Not close friends by any means, but friends nonetheless.

Epel could give him one.

Next was Jack.

...In all honesty, epel didn't know. We're they friends, or just simply homework buddies that occasionally hung out?

...he could spare one for Jack, maybe they'd be friends then if they weren't already.

Duece.

Yes. Just- just yes. That day on the beach had changed their relationship forever. Duece was like a brother to him at this point.

He was goddamn getting an apple.

Epel chuckled a little at the realization that he was treating this like one of those elimination gameshows his meemaw liked.

Ok...he had two apples left after that.

Sebek wasn't really his friend was he? He certainly didn't make it seem like he was. If anything, Sebek was trying his damnedest to make them all belive the exact opposite, really.

....maybe he should just give the apple to Rook.

Or Vil.

Maybe.

Ok. He has one apple left.

The two of you weren't really friends. But you were friendly. If nothing else, you had been nothing but kind to him so far.

And plus, you looked uh. Half dead. To put it nicely.

And so, with a smile on his face, epel took out the crate of apples and began placing them on a bag that would make them easier to carry around tomorrow.

He couldn't wait.

.

.

.

It's funny how your whole life can change in a single moment, especially when you don't even know what that moment was.

Why were you here? Where is here anyway? Surely, magic didn't exist right?

The air wasn't always this clean right?

Water wasn't readily available at the turn of a handle right?

People didnt...people werent...weren't....

Heh. Heheha.

Why.

Why were you here?

Why were you here?

Why you and not one of the kids? What the hell have you ever done but use up medical supplies in a fruitless effort to keep you alive.

Why was this world so...pretty. happy. Clean.

Why this world and not your own? What had this world ever done to deserve this luxury of life.

...What had yours?

What had you?

Out of all the base commanders, the medics, the farmers, or children, or any of the other apprentice kids that you sometimes had to work with.

You were here. And they were still trapped inside of that hell.

...You didn't deserve this.

You died. You were on that beach and you died.

You woke up in a coffin, but something told you this wasn't the afterlife.

That something being the blood that you coughed up the other day.

It wasn't from internal bleeding, you k ew that much. Rather, it was from you coughing so hard that something in your throat had ripped.

It really didn't matter. You had spent nearly half an hour in a panic, choking and trying to unclog your airways, while grim and the ghosts you had come to somewhat love, stood behind you, offering what little comfort they could.

It wasn't the first time this happened after all.

You were still bedridden for a good two days after that. Thank God for the weekend.

Time passed in a blur while you were like that. It always did, mostly because you were asleep ninety percent of the time. The other twn being dedicated to medicine and a vain attempt to get food you knew you couldn't stomach to stay down.

So no. This wasn't the afterlife.

It was just a beautiful second chance that you didn't deserve.

It was so confusing.

And this was so confusing.

What..is this weird red thing being handed to you?

Epel looked at you with a hopeful expression on his face. It reminded you of the little girl you used to look after...

You take the..thing.

Glancing over to your right, you watch Ace take a large bite out of it with a smile on his face.

Ok. So not poisonous. Good to know.

You saw Duece do the same thing.

You felt Jack staring at you, but you didn't dare look at him.

[binalakai-archive]

🍅🧅🍏🥑 wahoo fruit party!!

How misunderstood is your OC? In-universe or IRL. oh god. okay. okay Hue Man on Earth is a story that is. REALLY hard for me to share, despite how much I do try to talk about it publicly (or at least update my toyhouse as much as possible when i feel like doing that), there's always that sense of. people either boiling my characters down to Tropes/who's the Bad one and who's the Good One. whos the character thats meant to be a personal attack on someone (none of them are) n whos the character that is meant to be relatable (none of them are PURPOSELY written to be that way) n it just. really goddamn sucks sometimes. i could talk about specifics with my main trio specifically, over the course of time that i've had Hue, Magni, and Clyde, theyve all been weirdly misunderstood in their own way that i have gotten to the point of having to reevaluate those folks n look inward into seeing if that perception of themselves can be weaved into the plot. but honestly i think ill catch myself in a bad mood atm if i think about it too hard. tldr on that; i try to microdose my story when sharing it to others, n even then i get really nervous about the idea that my story wont be valued/understood as a whole, which is partially of my own doing as well bc i do have a tendency to Put a Lot into characters once i get super attached to them. ..so nowadays im too burned out to do that :"P once i make that pitch bible, it probably still wont fix that, but its still a project im committing to nonetheless! 🧅 [ONION] What is surefire to make your OC cry? Who knows of this information? Hue) hard to answer with a creature like him. objectively, he doesnt cry. its not needed for him to release emotion the same way it does for Earth-things. but he does it anyway, or at least the equivalent (letting go of parts of his body in droplets from his eyes, just for them to crawl back to his body) it's less about "am i sad right now and do i have to cry" and more like "is crying appropriate for this situation.". after his Human arc in arc 5, its something he actually stops doing as a whole because experiencing the feeling of crying in a human body like. Actually Fucks him up REAL bad NJWKEFNAJKWFNAKWEF Magni) the "sillier" or "unrelated to themselves" the issue is, the more theyll have a tendency to genuinely cry over it. they cry when they know no one else is there to mourn over the problem they're crying about, which is why they'll have a very Stone Flat Face when Witnessing the horrors, but will have an absolute meltdown over dropping their favorite cup Clyde) Honestly that motherfucker will cry over. like....anything? Honestly? to the point where it can be unpredictable. Clyde's emotions are based less on the Cause of Crying and more about the intensity of its emotions. any time it gets overwhelmed, it will cry, and its been labeled a crybaby inuniverse because of that 🍏 [GREEN APPLE] How do they differ from the norm and how are they punished for it? answering this all together, and honestly without having to like. explain the whole plot of HMoE in one setting. Hue seen as different from the norm not because he's an alien but because he's technically an illegal immigrant, Magni and Clyde are autistic PoC that also Do Not Fit Well into their hometown whatsoever. may i need to say anything else. 🥑 [AVACADO] What will they never back down about, even if it makes them seem bad?

Hue) trying to be seen as a good person, even if it means doing the most heinous shit possible (as long as he's able to hide it/insist on good intentions) Magni) trying to be seen as the Right Person, even if it means twisting things in their favor SPECIFICALLY to be right (though will admit to it redhanded if theyre caught, more out of being impressed if anything) Clyde) trying to be seen as the Truthful Person, even if it means ruining everyone's day/life about it (it''ll try to seem like it doesnt care about being "bad", but it very much actually eats away at it. every single damn day)

[kanside]

life update (3/31/2023)

(holy shit i put 2022 i forgot it was 2023?? whats next? 2024?? so weird)

my physical health is taking a severe plummet (i joke that its in reaction to my mental health doing better).

my sleep schedule has flipped completely from 11pm-9am to 2am-12pm. this is a severely unhealthy shift. doctors say my epilepsy took sleep into factor the most and although i doubt this (my belief is that it was psychosomatic / in response to traumatic situations) i am aware that my sleep plays a HEAVY factor in my physical and mental health as a whole. i am still getting the same amount of hours but i am emotionally imbalanced as well as physically drained because the fucked up sleep schedule is affecting my eating habits. i have been very sick, weak, and generally feeling shitty. on top of that my appetite is affected by how many medications i take during the day. note on the sleep schedule. the reason i want to sleep at 11 pm exactly instead of earlier or later [ex. 9, 10, or 12] is because good sleep is based off of the cycle in which you wake, not the amount of hours slept. my sleep/dream cycle seems to last around 10 hours. this makes me think 11 pm is the best time to sleep, and 9 am is the earliest i must wake up. these times can be adjusted based off of new observations and schedules.

in retaliation to these (imo) severe health issues i have set some general goals and are listing them here to 1. remind myself of them and 2. let everyone know that i am still on the path to recovery and regularly working to improve myself above all else. the goals and ideas are as follows:

- unfortunately gained a dependency on my mom to wake me up in the morning again. frustratingly no matter how many alarms are set, no matter how loud, or even no matter how my mom comes in to gently wake me up, i will not get out of bed. i feel guilty for being dependent on her but have asked her to, when available, wake me up at 9 am by disrupting my sleep state with tasks that piss me off or jolt me suddenly: shaking me by the shoulders, turning my light on (it attracts bugs, i dont like it), leaving my door wide open (i have conditioned myself to think that door closed = sleep time, door open = wake time), etc. this will hopefully keep me from sleeping until noon and exhaust me enough to sleep by 11.

- on top of that ive tried adapting to pain and discomfort associated with eating food at abnormal times. instead of eating breakfast when ive woken up, ive been trying to force myself to eat appropriate meals at appropriate times. today was very hard, i had my favorite sandwhich when i woke up because it was noon. it seriously hurt because my body refused to take in any food (probably because i dont like eating immediately after waking or taking medicine) however i could feel pain due to hunger and knew i needed to eat. this sounds little but it was very hard. hopefully this appetite issue can be forced through and handled better as i fix my sleep. ive also asked my mom to buy some apples (granny smith which i eat in slices, and honey crisp which i eat in whole) because oddly enough the only thing my body wants to eat in the morning is those exact textures and consistencies. she’s going shopping soon so!!! yippee!!!!

- i recently tried to apply to a job. i have recognized this is an impulsive decision and i am not ready to take one on. i gave them my name and number and they said they’d call me, but i’m likely to apologize and decline. we’ll see, i just needed money really. commissions are still open and right now although my goal is health, my secondary goal is gaining traction online to balance hobby, health, and gaining money. im nearly finished with my MAP part and im eager to see the sort of response it gets and establish myself online again

- once i establish a better sleep and eating schedule, ill finally hopefully be able to go to a doctors appt. and request lowering the dosage of my epilepsy medication. it’s very hard taking over a dozen pills day and night for a disorder that hasnt shown itself in over 2 years. i only stayed on the meds this long because there was anxiety over transition. im very eager to not be as dependent on medication, and only take medication alongside proper therapy (which i will hopefully receive) for mental health and productivity reasons alone.

tldr

this is a life update of sorts to describe where im at and give you an idea of my availability and energy levels. i am feeling very sick. my sleep and eating schedule is fucked up. i am currently putting much of my focus into personal hobbies, relaxing tasks (watching shows, playing games), self care, chores, and fixing some health issues with myself. i was very eager to be more productive and social, and im sorry if i cant be all the time! soon i will have plenty of time and energy to share with yall.

love you guys :] im gonna go watch anime or something

[zoey-wades]

Honeymoon (King Liam x MC)

Rating: M (Drug Use, Substance Abuse, Violence, Self-Inflicted Violence)

Characters: Dark!Liam Rys x Dark!Lyra Frasier (MC) x Dark!Drake Walker

Summary: Fresh out of school and trying to figure things out, Lyra Frasier spends her weekdays going to a job she hates and her weekends in a drug fueled haze. And then she meets golden boy Liam. Lyra soon realizes that the violent underbelly of New York City’s elite may be more than she can handle.

Author’s Note: I haven’t updated this thing since uh......last year? I’m bad at making a writing schedule for myself. I think, the way TRR has been going as a series, I just haven’t had the motivation. But when I separate this world from that one, it helps a bit more. 

Honeymoon Series

ooo. Prologue.

oo1. Honeymoon.

oo2. Midnight City.

--x-- 

oo3. C.R.E.A.M. 

It was bad enough that Liam’s father was ill; he also had to be stubborn as fuck.

Liam winced as his ailing father lifted the shaking glass of whiskey to his lips, determined to keep drinking despite what the doctor and his wife told him about the effects on his body. Liam cleared his throat, earning a single passive glance from his father across the desk. 

“Oh come on,” Constantine groaned, licking the droplets of liquor from his chin, “Not you, too. I don’t need anymore shit about what I do in my free time.” 

Unwilling to take advice from those he deemed inexperienced, Constantine was an unwavering force in a world of deeply complicated decisions. Liam patiently rested his folded hands in his lap, training his expression to convey as much stoicism as he could in the given circumstance.

“You don’t seem to understand that this,” he motioned towards the glass, “is the reason why Sebastian Clark was able to fly under your radar for so long? What would’ve happened if Walker and I hadn’t figured him out? Who knows what he could’ve gotten away with--” 

“That rotten, coked out fucker,” Constantine spat with a wave of the hand, “Good riddance. I didn’t need him poisoning my ranks with his bullshit.” 

“That’s what I’m trying to explain,” Liam leaned forward in his seat, speaking slowly to emphasize his next point, “We don’t know that he hasn’t. And the fact that he was in your ranks for as long as he had should be worrisome. Who knows what else is going on that we don’t know about.”

“My men are loyal to me,” Constantine stated plainly, “One bad apple doesn’t always spoil the lot.”

At the age of 67, he’d been away from the action for quite some time. Evidence of a hard youth decorated his face and body in the form of scars and bones that didn’t quite heal correctly. Liam couldn’t remember a time when his father didn’t look tired. If he hadn’t seen a photo of a young Constantine with his own eyes, he’d believe the man just came into this world with a shock of white hair and bloodshot eyes. His stepmother half-joked that Liam’s older brother, Leo, caused their father to gray prematurely with his gambling and sex addictions.

On the other hand, Leo had to get it from somewhere.

Liam watched his father struggle to take another sip from his glass before averting his gaze to a family photo on his father’s desk. Teenage Justin and Liam sat side-by-side, unsmiling, with neatly pressed suits on in front of their equally serious fathers. Why Constantine kept that particular photo on his desk, Liam never understood. Nothing about it exuded warmth. 

“Did Justin ever talk about a girl around you?” Liam suddenly asked, refocusing on his father who swirled his whiskey in deep thought. 

“A girl?” He repeated in thought, “Once or twice. Usually he was asking advice on how to keep them tamed, you know?” 

Constantine attempted a conspiratorial smile that Liam didn’t reciprocate. 

“Did he mention any specific names?” Liam pressed on, “Or descriptors?” 

Constantine raised a brow and sat the sweating glass on a wooden coaster, “What is this about?”

What was this about? Liam wasn’t entirely sure. There was something about the girl, Lyra, that intrigued him. How was she able to dip in and out of their world so easily without leaving any footprints behind? Who did she know? 

After dropping her off back home the previous afternoon, Liam did some quick research into who she was. Aside from a few high school choir competition press reels, she was an otherwise ordinary woman. 

“Well I...” Liam chose his words carefully, “ran into Justin at the bar, talking to a girl. You know we never really see him with anyone. So I was just curious.”

There was a brief pause between the two men, and the grin returned to Constantine’s face, “A hot piece of ass, huh? Thinking of getting in there?” 

Liam said nothing, but fidgeted with the rings on his fingers. His father wasn’t technically wrong. But god damn if the wording didn’t make him feel like the grossest piece of shit. 

He decided to drop the subject for another time.

“Sorry to push us off topic, Dad,” Liam quickly corrected, “But, back to my original point...how do you know for sure Clark was the only shady one in the group?” 

Constantine considered this, tapping his pen on the wooden desktop, “What reason would I give them to turn their backs on me? I’ve been with these men for well over 30 years, I fed them,” he counted on his fingers, “clothed them, put their kids through school, made them dukes in their own respects. They made their names on my back, and they think they’re gonna fuck me over!” 

The sudden exclamation caused the man to cough violently into his arm and then into a handkerchief. Liam instinctively jumped to his feet, and rushed across the room to fetch a glass of water for his father. 

“I’m fine!” Constantine croaked, attempting to catch his breath, “I just got a bit overexcited.” 

Despite his protests, Constantine took the glass and sipped from it slowly. It hurt Liam to see his father deteriorating so quickly. A part of him felt like Constantine believed himself to be invincible. A smaller part of Liam felt like his father was simply just giving up. He had to put on an air of confidence, as he was at the top of the pyramid and could not show weakness. But as he grew older, cracks in the foundation began to form. Cracks that Liam had been working to seal. 

Liam loved his father. There was no doubt about that. But every day the work grew more difficult. Liam could almost envision the empire crumbling at his father’s feet, all because he was too stubborn to fix the loose bricks. 

As if reading his mind, Constantine sat the glass down and looked over his son, “You do know that I love you, right, kiddo?” 

There was a faraway look in his eyes, a look Liam saw once in a while. And he always wondered where Constantine went when that happened. 

“Yeah, I know, dad.”

Sadness darkened his father’s features, “Despite the issues that your mother and I had,” he cleared his throat, “I did love her. And I think you were the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m always going to be proud of you.” 

A pit formed in Liam’s stomach and he reached across to grab his father’s hand, “Hey, what are you not telling me?” 

And just like that, Constantine switched the darkness off, a confident grin returning to his face. It didn’t reach his eyes. 

“A man can’t tell his kid he appreciates him, anymore? Lighten up, Liam.” 

--x--

Liam sat in the garage of his apartment building to smoke and attempt at shuffling through his thoughts. Maybe it was counterproductive. An hour after leaving Constantine’s office, Liam learned of another potential fuck up in his father’s ranks. Someone was making trade deals on the low, and informing a rival company of some arms delivery pick up spots before they arrived for a cut of the profit. He passed the message along to Drake, who responded with the same concerns regarding Constantine’s failing leadership. 

Liam was only one man. Though he was sure he didn’t feel an ounce of the pressure his father did, the stress he felt nearly crippled him sometimes. He briefly allowed his mind to wander to Lyra and what she was doing. Did she know how much he envied her life? She didn’t answer to anyone, she could leave the city if she wanted to, she never had to constantly look over her shoulder. Lyra carried herself with the air of freedom he could only dream about. Clutching his phone in tatted knuckles, he almost considered texting her. But truly, what would he even say? 

“Hey, I know we only spoke once and you gave me your number because you wanted to pay me back for the gas (which you still don’t have to do). But what does freedom feel like?” 

Right now, Liam imagined she was laying across the secondhand sofa in some old college sweatshirt, watching YouTube, her mind a thousand miles away from him. He’d never even seen her apartment. But he had a feeling she had a lot of plants and a collection of decorated whiskey bottles on her kitchen counter. She seemed like the type. He caught himself chuckling at the thought and frowned. Ideally, he’d just let her go. He could never bring her into this world, she was too good for it. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he could grow to like her. 

The shrill ring of his phone cut through his thoughts, sharply pulling him from a moment of escapism he didn’t even know he needed. 

“Hello?” Liam answered, attempting to mask his disappointment. 

“Idon’tknowwhathappened! Idon’tknow!” A shrill voice cried on the other end between sobs. Liam pulled the phone from his face, and realized it was his father’s assistant, Penelope, calling from an unknown number. Alarm bells went off in Liam’s head, and he turned the ignition in his car. 

“Pen, what happened?” He asked, sitting up in his seat. 

“I just came in and he was....! I don’t know what happened, Liam! I was gone for an hour!”

“What. Happened?” Liam asked, again. His heart began to thud in his ears, and he gripped the steering wheel, “Just fucking tell me. Spit it out-”

“Constantine shot himself!”

[liampost]

What is a Zero-Day Attack?

There are many types of security vulnerabilities and opportunities for cyberattacks. Businesses are responsible for keeping their organizations protected against these attacks, both to adhere to regulatory compliance and to keep their employees, customers, and proprietary data safe. One of the most common and most difficult flaws to protect against is a zero day vulnerability.

Ordinarily, when someone detects that a software program contains a potential security issue, that person or company will notify the software company (and sometimes the world at large) so that action can be taken. Given time, the software company can fix the code and distribute a patch or software update. Even if potential attackers hear about the vulnerability, it may take them some time to exploit it; meanwhile, the fix will hopefully become available first. Sometimes, however, a hacker may be the first to discover the vulnerability. Since the vulnerability isn't known in advance, there is no way to guard against the exploit before it happens. Companies exposed to such exploits can, however, institute procedures for early detection.

Security researchers cooperate with vendors and usually agree to withhold all details of zero-day vulnerabilities for a reasonable period before publishing those details. Google Project Zero, for example, follows industry guidelines that give vendors up to 90 days to patch a vulnerability before the finder of the vulnerability publicly discloses the flaw. For vulnerabilities deemed "critical," Project Zero allows only seven days for the vendor to patch before publishing the vulnerability; if the vulnerability is being actively exploited, Project Zero may reduce the response time to less than seven days...visit - TechTarget to know more.

Why zero-days are dangerous

A zero-day gets its name from the number of days that a patch has existed for the flaw: zero. Once the vendor announces a security patch, the bug is no longer a zero-day (or "oh-day" as the cool kids like to say). After that the security flaw joins the ranks of endless legions of patchable but unpatched 0lddays.

In the past, say ten years ago, a single zero-day might have been enough for remote pwnage. This made discovery and possession of any given zero-day extremely powerful.

Today, security mitigations in consumer operating systems like Windows 10 or Apple's iOS mean that it is often necessary to chain together several, sometimes dozens, of minor zero-days to gain complete control of a given target. This has driven the black market payout for a remote execution zero-day in iOS to astronomical levels...get more info over at - csoonline.com. 

What Does Zero-day Mean For My Organization?

Both zero-day vulnerabilities and zero-day exploits are extremely valuable. Criminal hackers and spies engaged in state-sponsored or corporate espionage rely on zero-day vulnerabilities and zero-day exploits to carry out attacks and compromise sensitive data. Zero-days are becoming more common, partly because of the emergence of the large market for buying and selling zero-day vulnerabilities and corresponding exploit kits.

While zero-day exploits are becoming increasingly common, a recent article in CSO Online points out that many businesses are ill-prepared to defend against zero-day attacks, primarily because “much of the conventional wisdom about security is reactive and most of the security tools available are only effective against known threats.” Modern enterprises taking a proactive approach to security are better prepared to defend against ruthless attackers.

The best defense against zero-day attacks is one that is focused on detection and response, as prevention efforts typically fail against unknown vulnerabilities or exploits. Data visibility is key to early detection of a zero-day attack or compromise – by monitoring all data access and activity for anomalous behavior, enterprises can quickly identify and contain compromises before data is lost and the damage is done...this and more over at - Digital Guardian.

The following are key signs a company would see when attacked with a zero-day exploit:

Unexpected potentially legitimate traffic or substantial scanning activity originating from a client or a server.

Unexpected traffic on a legitimate port.

Similar behavior from the compromised client or server even after the latest patches have been applied.

In such cases, it's best to conduct an analysis of the phenomenon with the affected vendor's assistance to understand whether the behavior is due to a zero-day exploit...know more over at - Computer World.

Zero-day exploits are a challenge for even the most vigilant systems administrator. However, having the proper safeguards in place can greatly reduce the risks to critical data and systems. Click here to know more about zero-day attacks and more info on cybersecurity.

[aliceslantern]

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 10--Thinning of the Veil

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Ienzo tries to plan next steps concerning Saïx... as well as Demyx.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

He woke slowly.

His legs ached, and he was desperate to pee. He found himself glad he'd decided to sober himself; otherwise, he knew he'd have a hideous hangover. He was horridly dehydrated. He went to the bathroom, washed his face. He had awful bedhead. His first night with his supposed soulmate hadn't exactly been romantic.

He knew he had to deal with the fact of Saïx--and Kairi?--at some point. He crossed over to the kitchen, still littered with alcohol and mixer bottles. He drank a few glasses of water. Lea was snoring on the couch. Ienzo saw Demyx, a pale shade of green, cross over to the bathroom, and heard him retch. Ienzo sighed. At least he could do this much. He got him a glass of water and knocked at the door. "Occupied," he said wearily.

"I've got something for you. Let me in."

"You don't need to see this."

"I can help."

After a moment, Ienzo heard the toilet flush, and the door cracked open. Demyx sat on the floor, holding his head with one hand.

"I can fix your hangover," he added more quietly. "You'll just get sick again, is all."

"You're not bullshitting me?"

He shook his head. "Give me your hand."

Demyx did; his was clammy. Ienzo gently pulled the hangover from him with his magic. He vomited once more, then looked up in confusion. "Holy fuck," he said.

"Better?"

"...Much. God, Ienzo, if you sold that you'd make a fortune." He shut the toilet lid and flushed.

"Were I not a fugitive, I would." He smiled a little.

"...Thanks." Demyx stood. "Hey… that's my shirt."

"Do you mind? I felt rather sweaty."

"No. It… it's nice." He sighed. "Kinda wish the first night you stayed over was better."

"...Well. We can fix that."

He nodded once, a blush coloring his face. "Let me get cleaned up. We should go out for breakfast."

Ienzo did. He felt loath to put his dirty clothes back on, but he had to. Once they were ready, they set out into the perpetual twilight. Demyx squeezed his hand. “So I have to ask,” he said in a low voice. “What do you remember from last night?”

Demyx frowned. “Well… honestly? It’s all kind of… hazy.”

“I’m not surprised.” Ienzo sighed. “I believe… I saw an old adversary of mine.”

He stopped in his tracks. “You’re sure you weren’t just trashed?”

“Relatively sure, yes. He’s hard to miss.” He described Saïx briefly.

Demyx shook his head. “What if it was just someone with blue hair? Isn’t my magic… shielding yours, or whatever? Isn’t that the point?”

“Doesn’t stop him from tracking the old-fashioned way.”

Demyx took both of his hands and squeezed them. “There’s no point torturing yourself unless you know for sure.”

He had a point. Ienzo still intended on telling Aeleus when he got home.

They grabbed breakfast in a small cafe near Demyx’s apartment. Like Riku had, Ienzo cast a small muffling spell. “Where did you meet Sora and Kairi?”

Demyx blinked. “They’re Islanders too. Were always attached to Riku at the hip. I dunno.”

“Kairi claims she knows me.”

“Do you think you have?”

“I have these strange… partial memories, which may just be corroboration,” he said. “But if they’re magic… Do you know what’s special about them?”

“Not… really. Honestly, Ienzo, we don’t talk all magic, all the time.” A wry laugh.

Oh to have that kind of life. “I suppose that is fair.”

Demyx reached over the small table to take his hand. “Why don’t we just enjoy our date?”

Ienzo sighed. “Yes. You are right.”

---

When Ienzo got home, he braced himself for the third degree; but to his shock, the house was empty. The wards were still intact, and there was no sign of a break in. Was Even simply following his advice?

There was a note on the fridge. No need to worry. Back soon. -E

Ienzo showered, shedding the final remnants of last night. He felt considerably less safe without Demyx. He finished the last remaining bits of his coursework and started his own personal study, one ear at the door, his dagger nearby. Has he always been this paranoid, and simply never noticed?

After a while, he heard the front door open, and braced for attack before he sensed Even. He headed down and saw him carrying in groceries. “So you made it back, then,” he said dryly.

“I would’ve come home--but--well.” He took a breath and explained.

Even’s eyes bulged, finally giving Ienzo the reaction he was looking for. He almost dropped his bags. “You’re sure?”

“Nearly positive.”

He put his head in his hands. “We haven’t had any confirmed sightings, but I’ll be sure to tell Aeleus--in the meantime, you should probably stay here. Else…” He shuddered. “We could always call the boy if we need him.”

“You just sound so pleased.”

“I know that’s his purpose, but at the same time…” He looked back towards Ienzo.

“Something you don’t have control over.” Ienzo chuckled a little. “Right. Though there is one more thing I had questions about.”

Even began to unload the groceries. “And that is?”

“Do you know of any Islander named Kairi?”

Even turned. “...You’ve no memory?”

“I truly don’t.”

“I’m not surprised… it was shortly after the death of your dear parents, so your memory may be compromised, as it were.” He put a hand to his brow. “She was their princess. Are you truly forgetting all of the history I taught you? Why even bother?”

Ienzo rolled his eyes.

“We’d gone there to introduce Ansem as the new king. You were fast friends, if I recall correctly.”

“...Were we…” He muttered. “Are her parents still alive?”

“They fled shortly before the fall. Critical resistance contacts. They hoped to… rebuild, and repatriate.” A sigh. “Didn’t we all.”

Ienzo made a note to himself to look into their line. “Seems magic is much less rare than I was led to believe. We flock together like birds, don’t we?”

“Yes, yes,” Even said absently.

“Might be worth getting to know her then… again.” Ienzo picked up one of the apples that had just been bought.

“Did you enjoy your time gallivanting about?”

“Before I saw him… I did,” Ienzo admitted. “Strange dichotomy, between this “normal” life and everything else. I… you don’t think he knows about me?”

“I… cannot be sure,” Even said. “But we must be vigilant.”

“Are we ever not?” Ienzo looked at his reflection in the wax of the apple. “Were you able to find the goat? I have a lovely recipe.”

---

Ienzo could not stop thinking about Saїx. As he moved through the days… past midterms, past dates with Demyx… he still kept looking out for that shaggy head of blue hair. But Ienzo did not see or sense him again, even past the full moon. How could he possibly relax?

Demyx helped. It was lighthearted, even effortless , to be with him, and knowing his magic was at least partially blocked gave him a modicum of comfort he’d never quite had. They did spend quite a lot of time in his room whenever they could be alone, simply cuddling or kissing or something more.

Ienzo started taking birth control pills, acquired with ease through the student health center. His transition had been magical, not medical, and fertility spells for or against children were frightfully complicated. He knew that final step would probably come soon, and he figured best to be cautious.

How odd.

Ienzo knew he did love him, involuntarily, but still deeply. The more they were together, the more he seemed to notice about him, especially if they spent time with Demyx’s friends; he was unconsciously charming, but on the other hand the real appeal was there. He was sharp, observant, though he often feigned the opposite. They would talk for hours about every little passing thought in their minds; Demyx humored his ramblings about this or that book he’d read, or the theories he had about his own magic. Similarly, hearing Demyx talk so technically about his own music served as a turn-on.

“It’s been easier, since we met,” Demyx admitted, strumming his sitar lightly. “To… make things. I feel like I’ve been missing something, and that hole is just… gone.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And I know it’s just because… I’m supposed to want to be around you. But at the same time… it’s such a relief.”

“I agree,” Ienzo said quietly. “I feel I can’t let my guard down around anyone else.”

Demyx set his sitar aside and lay back. The string lights around the room made everything rosier. “So this resistance… what happens?”

“The next meeting is apparently soon,” Ienzo admitted, “Around Samhain… the thinning of the veils between worlds.” He looked at his palms; he could feel the magic gradually increasing the closer they got. “The boost in power makes the vulnerability we get by joining worth it. ...So I’ve heard. The longer I live a “normal” life, the less I feel I know.” He sighed. “But at least something can be done. I think. I hope.” He exhaled. The air was getting cooler, the more it edged into fall. He lay back with Demyx and felt him draw his arms around him. “Sometimes I feel like there’s no real future for us. All the while darkness encroaches and we… wait.”

Demyx pressed a kiss against his brow. “I know. Believe me. But… I believe in us. In you.”

“How I wish I could’ve just met you on the street.”

“Well. The alternative other than this is… never meeting at all, and I can’t handle that, either.” He chuckled a little. “I’m just… glad it was you.”

“...I’m glad too.” He leaned in to kiss him. Demyx pulled a hand through his hair and brought him closer; Ienzo rolled his hips so he was lying partially on him. Demyx’s hand slid down his back, over the curve of his ass, bringing with it goosebumps and making him shudder. Ienzo had gotten used to this all too quickly. He let his own hand trace the planes of Demyx’s chest, and heard him gasp softly. Ienzo worked off his shirt and kept touching him, loving the way it made him feel grounded. Warmth rushed to his face.

Demyx undid the buttons of Ienzo’s shirt, sliding it off, and pressed his lips against his throat, nipping softly. Ienzo felt a hand ease between his legs and reached to undo the buttons of his slacks. Still awkward, to undress, but Demyx helped him, kissing his chest, his stomach, and down farther, making him moan. He was eased back down onto the bed. Demyx took off his own pants and returned to him, drawing Ienzo’s mouth back to his.

Demyx drew his hand against Ienzo’s thigh, the soft and sensitive skin there, before so tentatively stroking at his clit. Ienzo shivered. At least it was easier to touch Demyx too now, so he did, taking his dick into his hand and working at the tip. Demyx made a small noise. Ienzo loved the way his breath changed. It should not be this easy to be so vulnerable in front of someone else.

Demyx moved a little quicker, rolling it against his fingertips, and slid one of his fingers inside of Ienzo. This used to be enough; and Ienzo knew he could get off if this continued. But he wondered… “Hey,” he said softly. “Do you think--?”

Demyx cocked his head. “What?”

“I want to… try going farther.”

He gasped. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Um… I… yeah, no, totally.” He laughed a little. “Let me get a condom.” Ienzo watched him cross over to his dresser and open a drawer.

This was so… odd. Ienzo could feel the blush in his own face.

“If I’d known, I would’ve… I don’t know, bought wine, or something.” Demyx chuckled again; Ienzo realized he was nervous.

“No need to be anxious,” he said softly, reaching for his hand.

“I can’t help it.” Demyx bit his lip. He knelt down next to Ienzo, stroking the uneven edges of the package. “Listen… just tell me, if…”

“I know.” Ienzo took Demyx’s dick back into his hand, helping him get hard again. Still, his hands were shaking when he helped him put the condom on.

“I’m surprised you don’t have magical birth control or something.” Demyx eased back on top of him, teased his thighs open.

“It is all very complicated, and requires ingredients that aren’t exactly available in a store.” His heart was racing.

Demyx’s flush worsened; Ienzo touched his cheek. He propped himself up with an elbow. Ienzo felt a finger slide into him, then another, an unexpected prickle of pain giving him pause for a moment, but the way Demyx kissed him helped warm it away. Ienzo wrapped a leg around his hips, to help give him a better angle, and a moment later the tip of it pressed against his opening. “You’re okay?” Demyx asked.

“I think so.”

Demyx eased into him a little more; Ienzo couldn’t help the flinch. It wasn’t agonizing , but it wasn’t comfortable, either. “You sure?”

He’d just have to bear it for a moment. “Yes.”

More pressure, and a bit more tense pain. “It looks like that hurts.”

“It doesn’t.” Ienzo felt his hips against him; that must’ve been all of it. Still, the feel of it was not encouraging; how did people fake orgasms? He could barely keep the grimace off his face. “I’m… fine.”

Demyx exhaled. “Why don’t we do something that feels better for you?”

“How else do I get… used to things?” he asked.

“Lube would probably help.” Demyx pulled out of him. “I can get some for next time, okay?” His expression had become somewhat unreadable; Ienzo felt betrayed by his own body, moreso than usual.

“I’m sorry.”

Demyx kissed him once. “It’s not your fault. Believe me, the first time someone went inside me was a real shitshow.” He offered a tentative smile. He threw away the condom.

Ienzo was shaken into honesty. “I just thought it would be easier,” he mumbled. “After all… it’s all well and good when you touch me, but…”

“We can try again,” Demyx said.

“Aren’t you disappointed?”

Ienzo could see he was deciding whether or not to lie. “Well--a little,” he admitted. “I mean, I thought--”

“It would be the best sex of your life?”

He lay down next to him. “I wouldn’t say best , but--”

“At least you’d finish.” Ienzo bit his lip; his humiliation felt complete, and while he wasn’t aching , exactly, things did feel odd between his legs.

“Hey,” Demyx said softly. “It’s not your fault. I could’ve… fingered you more, or…”

“Lube. As you said.” He tried to smile.

“Do you want me to… touch you, or?”

Ienzo shook his head. “Feels like the moment has passed, no?”

A sigh. “Yeah. Let’s just… cuddle a while.”

[brazenautomaton]

Now that Silent Partner, Unfinished Business is complete, it’s time for answers and trivia and commentary and other such spoilers under a readmore! Send me an ask if you have any other questions about stuff, or post it as an AO3 comment.

First, the chapter titles. Following the naming convention of 100 Bullets, each of them references or alludes to the chapter number that it is.

One Is The Lowliest Number - references “One Is The Loneliest Number” by Three Dog Night. 

Folie a Deux - “Folie a Deux” or “Madness of Two” is when people transmit psychiatric illness, delusions, or hallucinations through social connection.

Bad Company - references the phrase “Three’s company, four’s a crowd” - and “Bad Company”, by Bad Company, on the album Bad Company.

Forewarned is Foreboding - references the phrase “Forewarned is Forearmed”

Slaughterhouse - references “Slaughterhouse-Five” by Kurt Vonnegut

Six Degrees of Severance - references the concept of “Six Degrees Of Separation”, and the process of severing a connection.

Magnificent - references the classic Western “The Magnificent Seven”.

Termination Procedure - AKA “Termin8ion Procedure”, it’s the process you go through to end someone’s employment.

Never A Cloudy Day - September is the ninth month of the year, "September” by Earth Wind And Fire contains the lyric “Say do you remember / Dancing in September / Never was a cloudy day”.

Epilogue: Decision - Deci-, as in decimal, is the Latin prefix meaning ten or tenth. 

I wrote the first version of this story over 10 years ago. I wrote myself into a corner in Chapter 5, because the Yotsuba Kira was still Higuchi, and it lay untouched for a decade. Naomi could write fluently and at length, her relationship with Misa was way easier, everything else was way easier, and it honestly wasn’t that good. I think like 1/3rd of chapters 1 through 4 are made up of text from the old version?

The idea of this being a fix fic to bring back a character that the narrative shortchanged was not the first idea. The first idea was “100 Bullets and Death Note ask exactly the same question, what would you do if you could kill someone and get away with it. But they answer it in totally different ways. How could those two concepts meet? Well, who in Death Note was betrayed and would seek revenge? Naomi Misora is a good candidate. How do I bring her back to life in a way that doesn’t seem she got off scot free?”

The original version of the story had no hints about the Minutemen (or the Trust, L’s employers) because none of that stuff was in the 100 Bullets comic yet, or at least not the trade paperbacks I had access to. The Minutemen and the Trust are kind of lame, to be honest, and they kinda dilute the elements and stories that made 100 Bullets compelling, but they are a perfect match for all the unanswered questions about L that Ryuzaki vocalizes in chapter 6.

You probably noticed how everyone had to stammer and search for the word “aphasia”. Did you notice that Misa was the only one who ever correctly used the word, had it immediately called to mind, and wasn’t reading it off a piece of paper? She was thinking about that word a lot more than everyone else.

I don’t remember when I first started using the double-slash notation for written text, but I figured that calling out written text was extremely, extremely important in a story where written text is extremely, extremely important for multiple reasons. I don’t know if I’ll use it for anything else I write.

Light’s symbolic fruit is the apple, obviously. Naomi is seen drinking orange juice and eating orange-flavored things, because they are as dissimilar as apples and oranges. Misa -- stuck between them and unsure of whose identity she will adopt -- drinks a lot of spring water.

“Midland Carbide Labs” and “Amalgamated Flourodynamics” are the two opposing player teams in the Half-Life mod “Science and Industry”, where players abduct scientists from each other to research their weapons.

Beta reader @ellieintheskywithroxy is a qt3.14.

Misa did a photoshoot, as a Malkavian vampire schoolgirl, for White Wolf Publishing back in the day. She thinks that White Wolf owns vampires the same way the Tolkien estate owns hobbits, so any changes they make to their setting are Official Vampire Changes, and she was miffed they got rid of Masquerade. Depending on her mood she thinks Naomi is either a Brujah or a Toreador.

Light’s “decoy Kira” plan was going to explode if it ever got to the point where he commanded or tricked Kira-Y into giving up his memories -- Nabiki Egawa would remember everything and they’d figure out Kira’s deception real fast.

The fact that Light’s WoW character is a Holy Paladin who he did not earn but instead purchased illicitly is extremely intentional. He plays WoW instead of a made-up game because A: I can cite details and people will appreciate the deep pulls and B: if I made up my own online game with a character as completely braindead easy to play as a Holy Pally in Burning Crusade, to allow Light to type messages while playing, it would look like I was making up absurd nonsense to make things easy on the character.

Naomi’s reaction to the BB case mirrors my own. I honestly could not finish the light novel because I found the authorial voice so grating, and the combination of smugness with the complete lack of knowledge about how things work in the setting of the story (literally one of the first things in the narration is something along the lines of “Of course her superiors were demeaning her, she was a woman and Japanese and this was America and we don’t need to go into any more detail than that”) was infuriating. And in the story that is supposed to be Naomi’s time to shine, she accomplishes nothing, saves no one, may as well not have gotten out of bed, and the things we’re supposed to see as her being a genius are her ability to follow along the clues that she is being spoon-fed by the actual serial killer. Jesus, dude. I said this whole incident gave her an incredible sense of impostor syndrome and hatred for her job, because the rest of the world -- like the LN itself -- acts like she accomplished something when she clearly did not. 

Similarly, I changed the details of Misa’s confinement to make sense. On someone else’s post, someone asked if Misa was tortured -- the depiction of her treatment is so inconsistent and incoherent that this is impossible to answer in the canon. They say she was denied water for three days, but has none of the symptoms of it. They have her bound a to gurney apparatus that takes twenty minutes to set up, and let her out every single time she asks to pee, and somehow she never tries to escape. And of course she gets out after a month of not moving with no muscle atrophy. This version is supposed to be a coherent model of treatment that sits on the borderline, in a grey area -- it’s torture if it’s done to inflict pain, and not torture if it’s done out of a reasonable concern for safety. The Second Kira was the most dangerous human being on the planet Earth and they had no idea how she worked. Some of her confinement was obviously necessary for the sake of safety. But how much of it was, and for how long was it warranted?

Most of the new Death Note rules are introduced to set up things that happen later, answer niggling questions I had, or just flesh out the concepts introduced. But the rule about “Once your lifespan goes negative, if you try to update it again, it just flips the fuck out” is just so Naomi and Misa can’t know how much lifespan Rem gave them.

There was no good or natural time to show it, but the moment Misa heard about rule 38a, which says that you can only regain your memory of the Death Note six times, she figured out if it was possible to surrender a Death Note that wasn’t being actively haunted (it was), she just reclaimed and gave up an evidence sheet of //ARVC-5// five more times.

Ryuzaki has no idea where the pina coladas are coming from and at this point he is too afraid to ask.

[maximushoward]

hello it’s me, sunny, comin’ at ya with a fifth character. will this ultimately be my downfall? hard to tell. guess we’ll see! anyways uhhhhhh you can read abt him below the cut? also don’t get used to that smile he won’t do it often.

I wrote up a lil bio in addition to the one on the main so if u feel like reading that click this sentence xx

EXTRAS ( IF UR TOO LAZY TO READ THE BIO AND OTHER HCS ):

he’s got daddy issues ( don’t we all ) and that’s where his fragile masculinity and ego comes from

a very masculine man

doesn’t really feel things. if he does he pretends he doesn’t!

Bad At Love™ ( due to issues with dad aha )

finds joy in very few things.

doesn’t see the point in befriending people at work

honestly probably doesn’t have that many friends. just rapunzel. and his feelings for her alternate between work mission and little sister depending on the day.

prides himself on being the best cop in all of carthay ( sorry shang and judy xoxo )

rarely smiles

hates small talk

hates flynn rider

loves beer and apple pie. an american hero, truly.

loves being in the hundred acre woods. perhaps u have seen him there?

used to be a mama’s boy.

drinks his respect women juice every morning

needs a hug but will kill u if u try to give him one.

FROM THE APP:

to this day, maximus sends money to his mom every once in awhile. when he first moved, it started off as just letters with no return address ( he didn’t want his dad to find him ) updating her on his life. the hardest part about leaving san francisco was leaving his mother. that’s why he feels so obligated to keep in touch with her. even though she stopped having his back, he figured ( hoped ) she still worried about him. the letters were meant to relieve her from any possible stress she may have of him being gone. but since he writes to them with no return address, he has no idea how they’re doing or if they even still live in that same house. if not, he hopes whoever does live there enjoys the small donations whenever he gets a chance to send them.

there are few things maximus is ashamed of, and his inability to hold a stable relationship is one of them. he blames his father for this, but knows he could attempt to fix this if he really wanted to. his dad was never the softest man, doing all his kind and loving things for his wife in private. maximus has no idea how to properly love someone. he’s been in relationships but they all eventually implode because of his inability to open up. it scares him, though, the thought of being alone. he knows there are tons of women out there who are wonderful, but the last thing he wants to do is cause any stress into their lives. so, for now he sticks to being on his own.

deep down, maximus knows he is severely messed up by his relationship with his parents. he curses them and himself each day because of it. he knows it’s not healthy to carry that kind of thing around with you, but he refuses to seek any sort of mental help for it. he doesn’t have any mental illnesses ( that he’s aware of ) just a few… issues. issues that could definitely be fixed by opening up to a therapist and looking for solutions. what would the town say if one of carthay’s finest was going to therapy? he’s not aware how socially acceptable it is among teens these days, and he has his dad’s voice drilled into his memory telling him how pathetic he’ll look walking into a therapist’s office and lying down on a couch, bitching about how poorly his dad treated him. so, he keeps it to himself.

part of maximus is grateful that all of his relationships have fallen apart thus far. he’s absolutely terrified of having kids because he fears he’d be just like his dad. he watches out for some of the kids around town, but he thinks that’s as far as he could ever go. besides, he’s almost in his forties. at this point, it’s too late to really have a kid for him. that’s partially why he’s so drawn to rapunzel. while she may not be a kid, she is someone for him to look out for and have their best interest at heart. 

maximus is at his happiest in the hundred acre woods. there’s ( usually ) no one around to bother him and he can just enjoy the world for what it is. it gives him an opportunity to wind down from a stressful week at work, it gives him an opportunity to workout without the stress of doing it for some high speed chase, and it gives him the opportunity to think about when he was young. he’s not sure how many other people see all the fruit that grows in the woods, but he definitely does. it reminds him of summers with his mom, where they’d go into her little garden and pick tomatoes and strawberries. but none of that could even compete with the excitement of picking from their apple tree in the fall. luckily for him, the hundred acre woods is full of apple trees. every time he goes he longs for his mother, but he knows this is for the best. still, when he picks them, he can hear her singing in the back of his mind.

[hxrimfybsvfi-blog]

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[shuuos]

amber and buttercups

UH SO I AM WRITING AN ACTUAL FIC WROW

i didnt know ao3 had a waiting list to get an account??? so ill post this there..... eventually. for now it’s gonna b right here tho so that’s........ neat...... ill try to post new chapters every friday but given that i am Not the Fastest Writer Ever i’ll probably b off schedule for the first few chapters until i get the hang of this!! anyways, enjoy this sparsely edited first chapter that was supposed 2 be longer buuuut i decided to save the rest for chapter 2

the undertangled au belongs to @izadreamer​ !!!

update: it’s on ao3 now!! if you’d rather read it there ;)

chapter 1 - once upon a time

Frisk

In their short life, Frisk would say that they’ve been through… a lot of weird stuff. Honestly, there’s nothing that can surprise them at this point.

Or that’s what they thought. Turns out the universe loves proving them wrong.

They have no idea where they are, except that it is dark. *The void? Chara suggests calmly. The thought makes their blood run cold. They know what happened to Gaster - will it happen to them, too? Can humans even be erased, the way monsters can?

Chara doesn’t seem to notice their fear, though, *How did we get here? I do not remember falling into the CORE.

“*That - that’s not funny.” A bad taste rises in their throat, and they swallow it down. Void or not, they don’t want to throw up here. Just the thought makes their heart pound. *I am sorry. Chara says, but they say it in that voice they use when they’re not really sorry, but feel like they need to say it anyways. Frisk doesn’t call them out on it, though. They probably didn’t mean to scare them - they’re friends, after all.

Instead of answering, they stand up. Their legs feel weird, like they’ve been sitting too long. *Somehow, it seems there is a solid surface underneath you. Try walking forward. They carefully do so, relaxing a bit each step. It’s comforting, the thought that they’re not going to fall. “*I’m gonna look for a way out,” Frisk tells Chara.

It’s hard, though, when everything is black. They’re doing less looking and more flailing their arms around wildly. From inside their head, they can hear Chara laughing at them. Better at them than their scary jokes, though. So they go on in what they hope is the right direction (because they don’t know what they’ll do if it isn’t.)

Chara stops talking after a while, like they’re thinking of something. Frisk pretends not to notice. It’s a bit too quiet without their chatter, though, and it scares them a bit. They wind up the music box in their locket, and listen to the song. It makes them want to cry, but better that than going crazy from how quiet it is.

*Frisk… Chara says suddenly. Frisk doesn’t like the way their voice sounds, but it’s not enough to stop them from walking. *Frisk, they say again, sounding even more worried now. They still don’t stop walking, because they want to get out of here right now.

*Frisk, there is no-!

Instead of ground, they step right into - a hole? Off a cliff? They can’t really tell. But that’s not important because they’re slipping and they can’t catch themselves, can’t keep themselves from falling. Again.

There’s nothing they can do now except for wait to hit the ground. Is there even any ground in the void? Or are they going to keep falling until they die? Would they be able to die here?

Falling in the void is strange - it feels less like falling and more like they’re floating. Like the girl from that movie Alphys likes, the one about a floating kingdom. It’s not a good comparison, though, because they’d love to be in that movie and they hate being here.

*...is that a light? Frisk can’t see it, but they feel it burning them up. Then they see it. It’s bright, brighter than the sun, and it’s growing. It eats up the darkness until they can’t see anything but white.

And eventually, that fades, too.

Varian

Varian is hauling equipment to his lab when the sky bursts into light.

It blinds him and leaves his head pounding, as if someone is hammering a nail into his skull. By the time it’s over, he’s gasping for air, hoping it’ll be enough to ward off the nausea.

Above him, there is a small silhouette, stark against the bright blue sky. At first, he thinks it’s a meteor, but as it descends, he can make out hair and clothes and oh god that’s a person. He watches as they crash into the trees and land with a dull thud.

And just like that, the trance is over. Everything processes at once - therewasalightandthenacometpersontheyfelltheyfell - and he’s not sure what to do now. The scientific part of him is screaming to look, because whatever that was, it definitely wasn’t natural. As if that wasn’t incentive enough, there’s a tugging sensation in his stomach, like something’s pulling him towards them. Weird.

Ruddiger jumps on his shoulder, shooting him an apprehensive look. Varian gives him a quick pat and mutters, “It’s ok, buddy, this’ll only a minute.” He’ll go in, see who it is, and then go get help if they need it. And they’re going to need it, because scientifically speaking, they’d at least have a few broken bones, if they’re lucky.

Bile rises in his throat as he realizes they could be dying. Could be dead.

Nope, nope, he is not going to think about that. He’s just going to focus on seeing what happened right now, that’s all. He can worry about that later. Besides, he can’t deny that he isn’t curious, and what kind of scientist would ever deny his own curiosity?

Not him, that’s for sure, he thinks to himself as he follows his gut into the tree grove.

The first thing Varian notices is the blood. There’s not that much - just near their head, but it’s still enough to make him feel woozy. Ruddiger digs his claws into his shoulder, reminding him what he’s here for, and he takes a deep breath. He doesn’t recognize their strange clothes. Must not be from here, he thinks. They’re small, too; just going off of their height, he’d say they’re about half his age.

Between their arms, something flashes bright gold, catching his eye as he stumbles back a bit from the sheer amount of blood.

He has to get his dad, a doctor, anyone. He can’t - he wasn’t expecting so much blood. He‘s prepared to run when a sudden cold overtakes his wrist, as if someone with icy hands was grabbing him. *The bleeding is superficial, a voice whispers in his head, leaving will only make it worse.

But they need help-

*Then help them! You cannot let anyone else know that we are here!

Varian can’t tell if they are his thoughts or not, but he finds himself being pulled towards the child nonetheless. Ruddiger hops off and scampers to their side. He bats at their head, and they shift slight in response. He watches with baited breath as they lift themselves up, limbs shaking. After a moment of struggling, they somehow manage to get into a sitting position, tucking their legs underneath them.

How-? A glimmer of pride, one that is not his own, rises up in him, and the icy grip holding on to him vanishes. At that moment, the child turns their unfocused eyes on him - well, in his direction. They blink once, twice, and slur in a strange accent, “*…Kara?”

Their face is bloodstained in a way that makes his stomach churn, so he tries to focus on their eyes, which are glowing even redder than the apples he feeds Ruddiger sometimes. Huh. That’s… weird.

For a moment, the two just stare at each other, though Varian can’t really tell if they’re looking at him or in his general direction. Then, for some reason, they reach for him with outstretched arms. They kind of look like Ruddiger when he wants to be held - wait.

“You… you want me to carry you?” The thought is foreign, absurd, and he’s pretty sure moving them is a bad idea, but they don’t really give him a choice. Ignoring his protests, they lean forward and slump against him. Blood sluggishly leaks from them all the while, staining his clothes.

What’s he supposed to do now? He’s not some kind enough of… childcare expert! He’s the opposite of a childcare expert-!

*Oh my god, just carry them! the voice snaps. He readily obeys, slipping an arm under their legs and lifting them up. They only feel about as heavy as Ruddiger, much to his surprise (are kids supposed to be this light?). As if summoned by his thoughts, the raccoon chirps, holding a broken locket in his hands.

A deep sadness resonates within him, and Varian is startled by it. He’s never seen the thing before, why is he so upset at the sight of it?

Regardless, he allows Ruddiger to store it in the apron pocket, and picks up the broken pieces. From what he can tell, it’s not the actual locket that’s broken, but a music box inside of it. He is relieved; machinery isn’t difficult to fix, as long as you have all the right pieces.

Ruddiger hops on his shoulder and he stands up, his legs only slightly cramped. After a moment, he decides to head directly to his lab rather than try to pull a cart while carrying a child and Ruddiger. He’ll come back for it later; there’s no reason for anyone to try and steal the materials.

. . .

The voice was right, Varian thinks idly as he wraps thick bandages around the unconscious child. Other than the gash on their head and a few cuts on their hands, they’re completely fine. It’s more like they happened to stumble in a particularly rocky area than fell from the sky.

They passed out sometime while he was carrying them, which he only figured out when he laid them down on the table. God, he immediately assumed the worst with how limp they were then.  He just hopes they don’t fall off somehow.

Whatever he had been hearing back there, and he knows he heard something, has gone silent. Quite frankly, he’s relieved. It was really starting to stress him out.

“Ruddiger!” Varian calls as he stumbles to his work-desk. “Tell me… when they wake up, ok?”

With a sigh, he slumps over the scattered papers in a dead faint.

Chara

Chara watches with amusement. The human boy seemed to be aghast at the sight of blood, but they did not realize to this extent. The raccoon - Ruddiger? - stays seated next to Frisk, watching the boy anxiously.

*It is alright, Chara tells it gently, you can go with him. “Ruddiger” stares at them instead. They blink, and remember that their locket is still in the boy’s possession.

They do not feel comfortable with Frisk knowing it is broken, and they say softly, *Actually, could you help me wake him up?

[christas-museum]

The Child Manuela: Mädchen in Uniform book (new translation)

CHAPTER 1: II

For more parts (updates are at least once a week), click #The Child Manuela translation

The road is wet. The pavement is bumpy. The lanterns flicker and clink in the wind. The road is empty. Only the iron-shod hooves make noise. The smell of old leather in the carriage. When the lantern light touches the occupants for a moment, a medal buckle glitters. Colourful ribbons strung closely together. Red collar and silver braid. Brightly polished buttons.

"What is it, Käte, why are you sighing?" Comes from the corner of the carriage.

"Oh, you know, these balls are real torment for me."

"Do you think I enjoy them?" asks the Major von Meinhardis offended. "God knows whom I'm taking to the table again. Well, and the food. These mass feedings are terrible. Everything is served cold. A white, soft fish, and then fillet, always fillet."

It's silent over there. In the darkness, a gloomily amused smile steals over Frau Käte's delicate face. But already she is serious again.

It would have been good to stay quietly at home with the children. To knit, to write a letter to Grandma, and go to bed early. Not to have to see all the unfamiliar people. She is frightened a little. Everything there is very noisy. The men-tired from duty-fill themselves with alcohol and soon have red faces over their tight collars. Dancing makes them hot, and they press you to them. You get dizzy when you waltz. However, most of them bored. At home . . .

Lela's mother is still stranger in this garrison town of Dünheim with its small Court. Officers are like chess pieces that are grabbed by an invisible hand and placed somewhere else. Taken away and pushed, without one suspecting why and for which reason. They are paid the moving costs, but no one asks whether they leave friends, whether their wife likes the new climate, whether she is far from home there, whether the children get on in the new school or not. One gets "transferred" and there one is. This is how a woman's heart clings to the old home; because she is never given time to create a new one. It's like demolition everywhere. Once—as sure as Hell— comes the transfer. Until then "one goes along with everything", where one is at the moment. The regiment is the inevitably fixed society. Whether you like them or not, the commander's wife, the major's wife, the lieutenant's wife are your friends. They are invited and invite and no one else. You cannot possibly have relations with the doctor's wife or a banker's—you will not even be tempted; because convention has ensured that you don't get to know them.

Then one goes to the Court ball. Court ball is duty. One can't cancel. If one is terminally ill, the best one can do is to ask beforehand not to be invited. But an invitation-not to obey an order, that's not possible. "Better to stay at home . . ." Frau Käte doesn't dare to say it. What a ridiculous argument-better to knit, better to write a letter, better to stay with the children. And she must write to Pöchlin still. She hasn't yet thanked Grandma for the last sending of sausages. And the sack of potatoes for the winter and the hundred pounds of apples. The ham lasts at least fourteen days. The boys get from it on their bread for school. Both eat a lot now. Actually, like grown men. At the same time, they are only eight and thirteen years old. But they grow. Ali's trousers are too short again. Then Berti can wear it, but Ali must have a new suit. No more this month, if not Grandma . . . Of course, Grandma also has worries. In Pöchlin there is everything, except money.

It has been a Summer without rain. God knows what the harvest was. In her mind's eye, Frau Käte sees her Father standing in front of the rain gauge, counting the millimetres of rain that has fallen. This glass, attached to a sawed-off tree trunk, has been the scariest enemy of her childhood. Everything depended on that glass. Drought—fright of Father and Mother. Drought-fear of the farm workers. Drought—disease of cattle. Drought—bad harvest. Bad harvest—debts. Debts—mortgages. Mortgages—ruin. Then white blankets of dust-blown in from the country road-lay on the roses and the holly bushes. Then the the trees are yellow in summer. Then the ground cracked. Then the horses' hooves are split. Then the unnatural agaves—as if made of tin—thrived in front of the house. Fusty, alien to the land they mocked the thirst of geraniums and marguerites. The ears of corn in the field remained small and opened their pods, scattering their sparse seeds on the hard ground. Gloomily, in the blazing sunshine the house lay, and gloomily and in silence the inhabitants passed each other . . .

The carriage stops with a jerk. A gallant footman flung the carriage door-a row of curious people on right and left stares at Frau Käte's slender foot in the white atlas shoe. But she doesn't step on wet pavement—a thick red carpet is laid on the road, and above her a canopy protects her from the dampness of quiet rain, to which she looks up gratefully. For a moment she hesitates, waiting for her husband. He gets awkwardly out of the carriage—the spurs on his patent leather boots force him to step sideways on the wagon steps. The fur-lined, light grey cloak with the beaver collar lies in rich folds like a train on the steps of the carriage. His brown, bony hand pulls the coat together. Reluctant for a moment and then laughing, his black, lively eyes roam the audience. He lightly puts his right hand to his cap to thank the serving footman, then he goes without any partiality, almost pleasantly touched by the admiring and envious glances of the bystanders, he approaches the waiting woman, offers her his arm and leads her up the steps to the entrance.

This Impartiality belonged to Major von Meinhardis like his right hand. It was his own and innate. He liked himself and liked others. With pleasure, he let it be known that he had "got something" from a Spanish grandmother. His yellow skin colour, his high instep, his dark, soft hair were un-German. His regimental comrades sometimes called him "old exotic"-then he could not suppress a small vain smile. Lovingly protective, he leads his wife up the stairs, quietly moved—as always in similar cases—by her apparent shyness and strangeness. This trait of hers had captured him at the time. Funny, how one in such moments had to remember the past.

It had been manoeuvre time. Quartering. Heat, dust, and fatigue. Strange men on tired horses, with dusty boots and brown faces, rode into Linden avenue of Pöchlin. The large, white, cool house opened, and three shy young girls led the unknown guests to their rooms. Each tore uniform from body, each bathed and fell on the bed to have a dead-like sleep. Flies buzzed on the chandelier and on the windows. Lieutenant von Meinhardis winked in the green-shaded light of ancient chestnuts outside the window. The little one, the youngest, what was her name? Käte-he smiles-Käte. Big eyes—I don't think she said anything—country girl—how come you, dear Meinhardis? You're probably crazy. When the Princess Schuwaloff hears this, well, and the Schermetieff in Baden-Baden—Meinhardis and a Käte. You're laughing at me. It smells of apples here; he continues to think, even of golden pearmains apples and russet apples. Russet apples shrink like old women. Käte—she washes herself with lavender—that's what I smelt, whether the white dress or her hair or her hands, clearly lavender. Bittersweet. Strange . . .

"The devil take this quartering. I can't stand these reckless hussars at all," saying old Pöchlin, tapping his barometer. But then a day comes when all the white doors in Pöchlin are wreathed with thick garlands of blue cornflowers. Red poppies stood on the table and candles with white cuffs. And the white tulle curtains were starched, and the parquet floor reflected smoothly. The priest in the black gown and the white collar said the first toast at the table, and then the comrades in red coats and the blue dolmans over shoulders with sabres crossed high in front of the door let the bride and groom walk away underneath—out into life—under sabres.

All of this flashes by as Meinhardis slowly strides up the carpeted steps. Frau Käte is shivering. She pulls her cloak tighter around her.

Everybody separates in front of the cloakrooms. The gentlemen are served by footmen, the ladies by waiting maids in white bonnets and dresses of stiff black silk. Tall, gold-framed mirrors on the walls are there to instil confidence in the timid newcomers and for the confident glances of beautiful women with with proud tiaras of flashing diamonds. Only here the anxious hands let go of the long trains that have to be guarded against dirt. Thick sewing cushions with needles and threads are ready for accidents of all kinds. Hasty greetings from acquaintances, unofficial, so to speak; because the real hello's begin upstairs in the hall. There's a nervous silence in the room. Hushed whispers.

Over there, at gentlemen's, it's different. There one groans loudly about tight coat, one stretches one's neck in front of the mirror because of collars that are too high, one swears about a cut that the razor in a hurried hand made across the chin. One complains about cobblers who no longer know how to make high patent leather boots, one asks which guests will come from out of the town and brushes moustaches with a small brush in front of the mirror. Some tail-coated gentlemen feel depressed in their colourlessness that they can hardly brighten with a red ribbon. They don't come against these red collars, green uniforms, blue skirts and white collars, against silver and gold, lacquer and coloured cloth. They are pale with their colour of living room against the weather-red and brown faces of the riders. With a hat under arm, they stealthily pass them by—the ministers and the chamberlains of the cabinet—about whom one has no idea where and how they actually spend their day.

A wide staircase-again with a red rug-leads up. Flowers line the stairs. Above stands a chamberlain of the Grand Duke. Representing the master of the house, he receives the guests. Everyone receives a small, folded cardboard box with a golden crown pressed into it. The dance card. On a silken string, a small pencil is ready to note down the names of the dancers. The programme is fixed-waltz, polka, rhinelander. Festive dinner. Waltz, lancer, polka, waltz, rhinelander, française and cotillon.

All rooms of the of the old castle are opened this evening. In corridors, near doors stand footmen in red liveries, golden cords across their chests, with knee-long breeches and dancing shoes. Chandeliers with hundreds of warm red luminous candles give mild light, enlivening the faces and making the eyes shine.

No one pushes. Despite narrowness, there is a gentle back and forth. Greetings and saying hello's. Frau Käte joins some of the ladies, while Meinhardis is eager to attempt to enter his name on the dance cards of the best dancers. A knock brings the buzzing sound of the voices to silence. Everybody steps back, and the Grand Duke in parade uniform—leading the Grand Duchess—walks past into the great hall.

The reception begins there. New guests are introduced. Meanwhile, waltz begins quietly and the first dance begins. The old ladies group themselves slowly along the walls on the sofas, elderly gentlemen retreat into the smoking rooms. One is still a little cold, one is still standing around, one doesn't feel a little at home. Everybody must say hello to a lot of people; because it is as it should be. Frau Käte seeks out the commander's wife, she greets the waiting maids who ask her graciously—as if they were her superiors—about her children. Frau Käte is not allowed to offend anyone, and as she in turn fulfils her duties, the younger officers who are subordinate to her husband report to her. Of course, they don't look as if this duty is difficult for them. They are literally beaming at her. One takes Käte to the dance, one takes her to the buffet for a glass of champagne. Gradually, it gets warmer in the room. The tips of a train are already torn by the spurs of a dancer. The candles have higher flames and drip treacherously on the uniforms of those standing unsuspectingly beneath them.

Frau Käte flies from arm to arm. Tired, she lets herself be led to a group of older ladies and sits down with them. Gladly, she joins the conversation.

"No, I have the butter from Northern Germany. I find it more economical. It also keeps well. I squeeze it into a large earthenware pot and pour water on it. Five kilograms comes significantly cheaper that way."

"Yes, but you don't use them for cooking?"

"Sometimes I do." She was ashamed of her extravagance, and as if to apologise, "I am from the countryside, Your Excellency. There one is so spoiled with fat . . ."

And the old Excellency nods in understanding.

But Frau Käte is not left alone. An elegant tall officer comes to her, and she rises.

"What are you doing there with the old bags? You don't belong there . . ." Frau Käte lowers her head. She feels the hard, silver embroidery of the uniform cuff on her neck. It hurts. He holds her tighter than necessary.

"Don't you know that you have great charm?"

She is embarrassed by this male voice talking at her from above. She wishes the music comes to an end. She also blushed a little.

"You hide too much; a young woman like you."

"Oh, it's not for me."

"This is something for every woman." And now, the music has ended, the man leads her to a side parlour under a floor lamp. Frau Käte didn't want this. But she didn't succeed in escaping.

Senior Lieutenant von Kaisersmark sits close to her. The old-fashioned sofa is very low, and Kaisersmark sits so that his left knee touches the floor, which gives him an almost kneeling position. He doesn't say a word, but only sighs.

"Are you missing something?" Käte asks anxiously. She sees how slack the wrinkles are that run down Kaisersmark's face from the root of the nose to the mouth. Pity for the beautiful face, she thinks.

"Dear lady, actually, I find it hard to scare you by something about which you'd rather know nothing. But I think I'll be a better person when I've told you. I have debts and no prospect of ever pay them. The commander has warned me, but I can't help it."

"And your father?"

"He sells the estate that is mortgaged."

"Your friends . . ."

"That's the worst. I owe them all."

"There are bankers..."

"I owe them too!"

"And now . . ."

"Yes, so dear beautiful little woman, today you are seeing me for the last time. Tonight I'll take off the uniform." He looks at the embroidered braids. "And tomorrow I'll go with a suitcase to another continent."

"To America? And what do you do there then?"

"I don't know. Washing dishes, probably."

There is silence for a moment. Some young pairs walk through the room and an old footman offers punch, beer and mineral water. Kaisersmark grabs a glass of water and pours it down. Käte starts again,

"I don't understand—forgive me—how did it come to this?"

Kaisersmark shrugs his shoulders.

"God, as it always comes. My father put me in the expensive regiment and thought that I would soon be a rich man-he pumped in the money for the first uniforms. Well, but one has a casino bill, and also one must live in a decent place. And admittedly, after the dull service and and all the silly, boring socialising one needs something different. God, I've fallen in love, and that costs money. The salary? That's enough for cigarettes."

"Yes, but . . ."

"You mean I was reckless? You're probably right. But do that for me! Drinking water when twenty-four comrades are sitting with Moselle. Or riding a bad horse in front of the regiment. Or wear old uniforms and cracked patent leather boots. Nobody can do that. And then mug some rich lass. Nah, I haven't managed this. The comrades put down a loaded revolver . . ."

Käte opens her eyes in horror.

"But I didn't take it. I don't want to shoot myself, I want to live."

"Of course you shall live, and maybe over there, who knows . . ." Kaisersmark takes Käte's hand and bends down,

"Shall we go dancing now?"

She takes his arm, and he leads her towards the waltz melody.

In the smoking room, the air is blue. On the table there are thick bottles of red wine and many cigar boxes. The faces are shining and reddened.

"Nah, he can't do that if he's still so in love with the lass."

"God, Axelstern, they're very decent people, the Löwensteins, and rich."

"Well, all well and good, but Jews! And he with his position at court. No, out of the question. If he does something like that, he'll be thrown out of here, and the day after tomorrow he'll be sitting in a nasty border place, in a line regiment."

"But she is pretty, even beautiful. Actually . . ."

"Yes," Axelstern smiles. "There's something about them, those Jewish lasses, temperament and- Well, cheers."

In another corner, a very young lieutenant leans over to his comrade.

"But you, trench war. That wouldn't be a war at all. Just think about it, you don't get to see the enemy and get shot to death."

"Hmm, admittedly, it's not pleasant."

"Look, my father was in the war of seventieth, they we had attacks on horses, hand-to-hand combat and so on. One must be a man. But trenches? Unchivalrous."

On the wet road outside the carriages started to go up. They were ordered on time; because it was taken into account that the gentlemen had to get up early for duty. But not everybody went home. With sabres hanging low, many strolled to a small pub to discuss the events of the ball in comfort.

Meinhardis unlocked the door for Frau Käte and kissed her, "Good night."

"Don't come so late, please."

"But, Käte, I just want to have a drink. Dancing gives one a terrible thirst."

Frau Käte puts the many flowers-that she got at the ball-in a washbasin. Lovingly, she loosens string and wire and carefully sprinkles them. The mimosa smells strong and the white daffodils strange. Silently, she opens a door and stands in front of Lela's bed. Lela breathes quietly, both small hands are buried into Bear's shaggy fur.

[verselong]

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And, yes, there’s a way to get past the login step and use your Mac. Since you are stuck at logging in, the best way to discover problems is by skipping this step. Your computer follows a specific process before you can access programs after turning it on. Skip login items when starting up This is another fix that solves login issues on MacBooks. So start by Shutting off your Mac Disconnecting all peripherals Checking if your charging cable is working If there’s nothing visibly wrong, reconnect the peripherals and press the power button. Reboot Your Mac You shouldn’t seek technical solutions before you try out the basics. Here’s what you need to do for your MacBook to start working again as soon as possible. It means that there’s something wrong with your Mac system that you must fix urgently.

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Causes: The reasons for getting stuck on the login screen include Malware or viruses Insufficient hard drive space after update Motherboard failure Corrupted file systems during partition Corrupted SSD or HDD Power problems Too many items loading when booting How To Fix It You should know that a MacBook getting stuck on the login screen is sometimes a complex problem. We will simplify the process for you so that you don’t have to seek help from a technician. But then, it is also a tough call for an ordinary user like yourself to try and fix it. Problem: Getting Stuck on Login Screen Getting stuck on the Macbook login screen, as said before, is a common problem. So, what should you do to fix login issues on your MacBook? This article is a guide to help you correct this effortlessly. That’s the most common issue, but you could also experience other problems. For instance, most MacBook users have reported getting stuck on the login screen. MacBooks do experience login issues anywhere along this process. After that, you expect to get started with using it. The next step is to enter a PIN that allows you to access your MacBook.

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Next, you’ll see the loading progress bar, and you may have to enter a login password if you have your FileVault turned on. The screen should be lit, and an Apple logo appears on it. You expect to follow a specific process once you press the power button on your MacBook.

[best-left-hook-jones]

All Flowers Keep the Light (2/6)

France, 1967. After a hurried wedding due to the birth of her son, Emma and her new husband, Neal Cassidy, move to the quiet French countryside for a fresh start. With Neal working late at the psychiatric hospital next door, it is left to Emma to find her own way to settle in to her new life. Desperate to find a way to pass the time, and to find meaning in her life outside of being a mother, Emma takes it upon herself to revive the facility’s neglected greenhouse. But when a handsome blued eyed patient offers to help her look after the plants, everything in Emma’s world changes.

Rated: M for mature themes, brief violence, and smut (not that bad, but I cover my bases). Beta’d by the phenomenal @wellhellotragic. Updates on Mondays!

Tagging: @hollyethecurious, @kmomof4, @captainswanandclintasha, @meremere94, @rouhn, @mcbrideannemgt, @fradditonce, @thesheriffandherdeputy,  @followbatb, and anyone else that would like to be tagged :)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

AO3

Chapter 2: Two

It was not as though Emma had expected him to be there again. After all, it wasn’t something they had agreed upon, and it wasn’t as though he didn’t have other things to do. He was a patient, she reminded herself on her walk over, which meant strict schedules of medication and supervision and God knew what else. Still, she couldn’t beat down the hope that swelled in her chest at the thought of his schedule possibly aligning with hers. It was a feeling that only seemed to bubble over into relief when she entered the glass room an hour later and found him waiting for her.

Killian was dressed in the same pale coloured outfit he had worn the day before, though Emma thought it looked like someone had attempted to brush his dark locks into something a bit more presentable. By the way a missed stray piece stuck up wildly in the back, Emma guessed it had been his own doing.

She hadn’t even realised she was grinning like a fool until he gave her a strange look.

“What?” He asked, the corners of his own lips turning up.

“Nothing,” she lied, letting out a long breath to settle her nerves. “I’m just happy you’re here.”

He quirked a dark eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” she replied innocently, shucking her jacket and tossing it on the workbench. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. It would be a shame for you to shirk your new duties as my assistant on the first day.”  

“Well, then, by all means,” he teased back. “Lead the way.”

They each chose a side of the room, sneaking glances at each other like schoolchildren as they raced to see how quickly each other could finish their pots. Try as she might, Emma’s hands never seemed to be quite as skilled as his, and he was nearly always a pot ahead of her, his fingers running through roots and soil as if he had been born with technique. If he had been, he was keeping mum about it.

With a bit of prodding, Emma managed to get a decent glimpse at his background, though she was sure that he was omitting just as much as he was telling. He had grown up in the northern provinces, he explained, and had become somewhat known as the local scoundrel of his home town. His father had abandoned the family when he had been an infant, never to be seen or heard from again. His mother had raised him and his brother, Liam, until she had passed away from illness when Killian was thirteen. He spoke fondly of his mother. She had owned the patisserie on the main street, and he recalled in vivid detail the time as a young boy when he had accidentally set fire to one of the ovens in his attempt to recreate one of her famous apple tarts. Emma was in stitches when he explained how he’d tried in vain to save the mini pastries, even as his mother had doused the flames with buckets of water. Emma made a verbal note to bring him her own special recipe one day, a promise which made his eyes light up in excitement.

By the time they finished their first set of pots, they were both covered in dirt and sweat, laughing and judging each other for the mess they had made in their sprint to outdo each other. Killian laughed at her insinuation that he had somehow managed to cheat, and Emma thought she had never heard a sound quite as charming in her life. She hadn’t known the man that long, but something told her that he did not often laugh as much as he did with her, and Emma felt victorious at having pulled one out of him.

He wasn’t a patient to her, no matter how much the hospital issued clothes dictated otherwise. How could he be, when his eyes were so clear and his wit as sharp as his mind? She hadn’t asked him what he had done to end up in the asylum, what malady plagued him when she wasn’t around, and truthfully, she didn’t know how she could even broach the subject. He hadn’t brought it up either, and every time he caught her eyes flicker to the ragged scar tissue that encircled his left wrist - surely from where a leather restraint had once rubbed his tender skin raw - he seemed to stiffen and roll down the cuffs of his sleeves to hide it from her.

And, truth be told, Emma was certain that she wasn’t just another worker at the facility to him, either. He had never been awkward around her, but even so he seemed to relax further and further into his role as her assistant. They flitted around each other as they worked, their rhythm like a well oiled machine. He shared simple stories with ease, complaining of the meals at the facility and expressing his wish for some “bloody decent food, already”. He nearly began salivating when she opened up her bag to reveal the pastry and fruit she had brought for him, and she had to playfully remind him not to try to swallow them whole. As it was, he finished off the small meal in record time, moaning almost sinfully as he finished each bite. She would recall that sound later - a blush colouring her cheeks - when she laid her house keys down next to the ceramic bowl of fresh apples that Tink had fetched from the market as a surprise.

They only grew closer over the next few days as their routine became even more fine tuned. Emma woke up early each morning and made her way over to the greenhouse, where Killian was always waiting, their work tables already set. After the success she had had with the first treat, Emma had taken to packing a second lunch to give her assistant, whose eyes never ceased to widen in amazement at the gesture. She’d teased him about it once, but he’d simply shrugged. “You can’t take anything for granted,” he’d explained, “especially in a place like this.”

He asked plenty of questions about her life outside of the facility, something she had anticipated but somehow had failed to prepare for all the same. She fielded his curiosity as best as she could, giving vague answers to questions that normally would be considered harmless. But of course, with someone with Emma’s past, no question was entirely harmless. Killian seemed to sense her hesitation when he asked about her family and her upbringing, and a slight sadness filled his blue eyes. But given the holes in his own personal history, Emma was certain he understood her need to keep private things private, and he never pushed. It was a welcome relief; most people never learned to reign in their questioning, and it usually resulted in Emma pulling away. And she didn’t want a reason to pull away from him.

This fall morning, as they worked together to prepare the greenhouse for the end of autumn, Killian had chosen to direct his questioning elsewhere. Well, everywhere, really. Having not seen a newspaper or magazine in what appeared to be years, he wanted to know everything that had happened in the world recently. The trees outside the windows filling with vibrant colour, signalling the change of the earth around him, and Killian was adamant that he would not go another year without learning something of the outside world. Politics, celebrity scandals, natural disasters. Then he wanted to know every song that was playing on the radio - every song that she liked. She’d had to think about that one, but settled on a small handful of tunes that she had heard over the kitchen radio while preparing dinner the night before. She’d listed the names, but Killian had only stared blankly. Of course, she hadn’t expected him to know them.

“Would you sing them for me?”

The question caught her off guard and she turned to raise her eyebrows at him. “Not in a million years.”

“How am I supposed to truly know the song if you don’t sing it for me?” He argued, leaning against the table top to watch her as he so often did.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Use your imagination!”

She might have let things go at that, if she hadn’t made the fatal mistake of glancing up at him again. Killian’s blue eyes had gone wide as a puppy dog’s, his bottom lip jutting out just so. He looked sad and pitiful, and somehow still absolutely gorgeous. A dirty trick, to be sure.

She caved.

His face had shown no signs of recognition when she’d mentioned Francoise Hardy, so she chose the rectify that first. She began with La Fin De L’Été, given the changing seasons outside and the fact that it was slow and she happened to remember the words.  

She fixed her eyes on her work as she sang, hoping desperately that he couldn’t see her quickly reddening cheeks. It wasn’t that she considered herself necessarily a poor singer, but she had certainly never had an audience before.  The only person she had sang for in years was Henry, and he was hardly a harsh critic. But by the way the greenhouse had fallen dead silent, she knew that Killian was listening intently. More words turned into vague hums as her nerves creeped into her voice.

She nearly jumped when she felt a soft hand on her arm, her words stopping suddenly. Emma finally met his eyes - he looked almost awestruck. Just as Emma began to think she might melt into a puddle under his gaze, Killian offered her his hand and lead her away from the workbench. He stopped at a relatively clear spot on the floor, motioning her closer as he placed his free hand on her hip. Caught up to his intent, Emma placed a hand on his shoulder and took up the song again, her voice steadier as they began to sway to the melody.  

As it turned out, Killian was a terrible dancer. Even with the slow pace, his feet struggled to keep up with the rest of his body. Emma couldn’t help but giggle as he pinched her toes under his feet for the second time in nearly as many seconds, but he only made a face at her. The rest of the song passed in a haze as they moved together across the tile floor. Emma was sure Killian could hear her heart racing in her chest, and she had to remind herself to breathe as he released her only long enough to gently twirl her in his arms.

“Though I love life,

And I believe it is beautiful,

I can love the rain,

As much as the sun,

Day and night,

Dream under all the skies,”

She wasn’t sure what compelled her to pick the next song, but the words began to flow from her mouth before she could stop them. Just as the one before, the song was slow and graceful, the melody sweet and mournful.

“But there are nights,

Where it is not enough,

And they are all the nights,

Where I think of you,”

She felt him stiffen in her arms, his breathing close against her ear as he listened. He didn’t pull away, didn’t ask her to stop. He just listened. So she continued.

“While I like very much,

Everything, as everything is mysterious to me,

The city and the times,

Noise and light,

Trees, flowers, wind,

Infinity and the sea,”

His eyes had closed at the words, his face soft as the song pulled him into memories that she was not privy to. She felt his grip on her waist tighten a fraction as he bowed his head against hers. It was only a song. Words written by someone else, likely for someone else. It shouldn’t have meant anything to the pair as they swayed in spot, their foreheads touching, soothing hands grounding each other to the earth.

“But there are evenings,

Where I do not think of them,

And they are the nights,

Where I hurt you,”   

Emma closed her eyes then, not wanting to see the emotion that would surely flicker across his face at the words. She didn’t need to look far to see how much he had been hurt in his life, how he continued to be confined like a caged bird in the facility owned by her husband. He might not have known how much his fate rested in the hands of the man she returned to at night, but Emma did, and the guilt was almost enough to make her choke on the rest of the song.

It was almost unthinkable that she would return home at night to a warm bed and he would be confined to his rooms once more. Emma might not have been a doctor, but she couldn’t see any reason for him being at Baudelaire. He was as clever, kind, and witty as anyone she had ever met outside of the facility’s walls. Someone as handsome and caring as Killian wouldn’t have any trouble finding a wife, perhaps having some children, and growing old in the comfort in a home of his own choosing. He deserved to relax by a roaring hearth with a thick book and a mug of hot coffee just as much as she did. She ached for her friend and for all of all the simple comforts he was being deprived of.

Not ‘friend’, a more salacious part of her mind whispered.

No one yearned for the company of a ‘friend’ the way she did with Killian. And no ‘friend’ would return her doe-eyed looks with the depth of affection he did. It wasn’t his fault, either. There was no way for him to know that she was already betrothed to another, and truthfully, selfishly, she didn’t want him to know. For the first time in a long time, Emma was happy. She slept well in the hours after her son had been put down for the night, felt less lonely in the early mornings before Neal awoke.

Perhaps in another life, Emma could have met Killian under other circumstances, and they might have both found happiness sooner. Perhaps together.

She pushed the thought aside.

It was a breach of trust, one that she knew might be nearly unforgivable, but she had to know what it was that kept him here.

So it was a week later when Emma finally swallowed down the guilt and voices that screamed at her to let it go and cornered the brunette receptionist during her lunch break. She had spoken to her a few times and had learned that the young French woman was the eyes and ears of Baudelaire. She knew every nook and cranny of the entire facility, as well as the patient records of every individual registered there. Whatever it was that Killian thought was too terrible to share with her, Ruby would know.

“How have you been liking it here so far?”

“It’s lovely,” Emma answered simply, not keen on sharing the truth about her thoughts on the place. It wouldn’t do much good to tell the woman how much she despised every hour that she spent in the little cottage after Henry had been put to bed. Being alone with her thoughts had never been something she was good at, and Neal never seemed to fill in the silence with anything but thin words and frustrated demands. It was during those times that she missed her safe haven the most. When she missed him.

“The nurses told me you’ve made a friend,” Ruby mentioned suddenly, her eyes full of mischief. Of course. Ruby knew everything. Well, at least it would make Emma’s job easier.

“Yes, Killian Jones. He helps me in the greenhouse some days.”

“Every day,” Ruby corrected, sipping her coffee.

“Is there a reason he shouldn’t?” It was as open ended of a question as she could manage, hoping that Ruby would take the opportunity to share.  She didn’t disappoint.

“No, I suppose not,” she admitted. “As far as I can tell, he’s not dangerous.”

Emma’s mouth turned down in confusion. “As far as you can tell?”

“Truth be told, I don’t know why he’s here. I do know he’s been here for years though. The old director overhauled the entire staff a few years back, and when the new girls were brought in he was here.”

That was curious. Emma had known that Killian had been in the institution for a while - the long healed over scars were proof of that - but she hadn’t expected his reputation to be blank. Surely someone who had been confined for so long had a reason for being there.

“Anyways, he’s lucky to have you,” Ruby continued, interrupting her thoughts. “You’re good for him, I think.”

Emma blushed. “I’m sure that’s not true. He’s a friendly man. I’m sure he gets along with everyone well.”

Ruby shrugged. “Wouldn’t know, to be honest. He’s been in solitary until last week.”

“What?”

Ruby hummed, taking another sip of her coffee.

“I think you’re the first real person he’s spoken to in years. We got a transfer of a new patient from the city recently and we needed the room, so Jones was released into the general rooms.” Ruby wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Awful man, the new one. None of the nurses want to go near him. I had to convince Anna to go in and change his sheets yesterday, and that was only after I promised that he would be off with doctor Whale during that time.”

Emma barely listened as the receptionist rambled on about the new patient - a man by the name of Walsh. The sordid details of the grotesque behaviours that had landed him at Baudelaire were not half as astonishing as the information she had just come to learn, and Emma struggled to manage more than a polite nod or hum when she thought appropriate.

Killian had been in solitary? It didn’t make sense. Emma thought back to every conversation she had ever had with him, remembering how softly he had handled every flower, and the sense of calm that seemed to wash over the room whenever he entered. Emma was sure there wasn’t a cruel bone in the man’s entire body, let alone a darkness that warranted hours of dark, damp solitude. It wasn’t fair. There had to be something she was missing.

Ruby was halfway through explaining something about a new male nurse who had been hired when Emma interrupted, unable to help herself.

“Is he on any medication?”

Ruby’s eyes widened in confusion. “Who? Walsh? I doubt it. Though I wouldn’t complain if someone put a bit of something in his next batch of coffee, the ass-”

“No. Killian.”

A look of understanding crossed the receptionist's face. “Oh. Well, technically, yes. But…” Ruby chewed on the inside of her cheek as she considered something, her eyes searching the blonds’. “He is supposed to be, yes, but I happen to know that he hasn’t been taking them.”

“He’s not been taking them?”

“I know the nurse that is assigned to him, and she told me she found one of the tablets half-dissolved in the sink after her round. I don’t think she told anyone but me.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone?”

Ruby shrugged. “She only told me yesterday, and I have a feeling that he’s been doing it for a while. He doesn’t have the same look about him that everyone else here does. Like he’s..”

“Hollow,” Emma finished for her.

She knew the look. Every patient she had come across, as fleeting as her encounters had been, had given her the same stony look, as if they weren’t quite sure where they were. She had always looked away, not wanting to see the pain behind their eyes. Even their shadows seemed a bit darker than everyone else’s, as if they too carried baggage unseen to the world. Emma was no doctor, but sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder if the doctors weren’t a bit too eager to pump medication into their patients at the first instant of trouble. She had seen in the paper how the doctors in the big cities had been advocating for behavioural therapies and more forgiving treatments, but those practices had not yet reached the outer circles of society.  

Emma had no way to be sure, but something told her that Ruby had read the same article, and was using her silence to instigate her own little medical revolution within the facility. A clever woman indeed.

Ruby finished up the last of her coffee, giving Emma a quick hug before disappearing back inside. Emma felt better having talked to her, even if she hadn’t learned as much as she would have liked. The receptionist was easily making her way up the list of friends she could count on in the facility, and she felt all the luckier to have her.

Still, it seemed that the only way that she was going to learn anything about Killian Jones would be to ask him herself. She paced that night, trying to find the right way to ask that wouldn’t send him disappearing behind his walls. By the time the grandfather clock tolled at midnight, she still had nothing, and instead fell into a restless sleep.

[thebestbusinesspodcast]

Five Pillars of Good Health with Maria Whalen

Do you ensure that you are in good health? You may be eating healthy foods, exercising, taking supplements, but do you genuinely know what’s going on with your body? 

Our bodies are made up of complex and interconnected systems. The things we think can help our body may not be the case. As entrepreneurs, being in good health is important because an illness can break any business and life apart.  

In this episode, Maria Whalen joins us to talk about dangerous misconceptions we have around health. She shares the five pillars of good health that we need to focus on instead. We need to be careful with what we ingest and put on our bodies; these can change our body’s foundational systems. 

Maria also shares her journey as an entrepreneur and her experience with illnesses that led her to advocate for the good health of entrepreneurs all around the world.

If you want to learn how to take more care of your health, this episode is for you! 

Here are three reasons why you should listen to the full episode:

Discover the different misconceptions we have surrounding health. 

Understand the foundational pillars of good health. 

Learn what makes an entrepreneur successful and why we need to keep moving forward. 

Resources

Check out EWG to learn how to buy healthier personal care products and food! 

Meditations by Marcus Aurelius

Killing the Victim Before the Victim Kills You by Derek M. Watson, Larry Pinci, and Daniel L. Tocchini

Reality for a Change by Ennio Salucci

Contact Maria through the email support@intentionalnetwork.com. 

You can also follow her work on Intentional Network.

Episode Highlights

The Problem with Health Perceptions

Maria shares her hardships with illnesses and her experience with Western medicine. 

The more she studied to cure herself, the more she saw problems with the perception of health and medicine.

There is a lot of marketing hype around green smoothies and the likes. 

It's dangerous to think that you're already healthy just because you eat and drink certain things. 

Five Pillars of Good Health

Maria hopes to share ways of never becoming sick. 

No one is teaching how our body works. It is why there are a lot of misconceptions about health. 

We need to know the foundations of good health first. 

The five foundational pillars are the immune system, hormonal system, DNA, physical structure, and mental-emotional component.

Imbalance Is the Source of Sickness

Ask yourself these questions every time you are not in good health: What am I doing that’s in my body’s way? What is it I’m not giving my body that it’s asking for?

Once you identify the culprit, you can fix the source and damage. 

How can we cause an imbalance in our DNA? Tune in to Maria’s answers in the full episode. 

Is Detox Helpful? 

Maria shares cleansing and detox should be done in the right context. 

Everything needs to be in proper order, just like in business. 

Don’t take shortcuts towards good health.

The skin is the largest organ in your body, and anything you put on it goes straight to the bloodstream. 

How can we be more conscious about our food and products? Listen to the full episode to hear more.  

Learn the Way Your Body Works 

All of us experience some form of inflammation. We need to learn why this happens. 

When we want to nourish our bones, it’s not about taking more calcium. Taking calcium can actually cause more harm. 

We need to understand the physiology of our body as a system. 

The Illusion of Feeling Good 

People often disregard the foundational pillars because they already feel 'good.' 

Don’t wait until your body breaks down before you start working on your foundation.

Don’t claim to be in good health when you don’t know what’s happening beneath the surface.

When influencing your hormones, you should understand that prescriptions work differently for people. 

Tune in to the episode to hear about influencing your hormones! 

Interconnection of Systems

Your body is made up of different systems. 

You cannot isolate a single system; you will need to address the whole system. 

For example, losing weight needs to be strategic: suddenly losing weight will cause toxins typically stored in fat tissue to be released into your body.

How to Become Successful

Becoming successful takes a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. 

You also need to have a vision that’s big enough to push you through the pain of transformation. 

A lot of successful people came to be due to a sense of urgency and need. 

Common Attitude of Entrepreneurs

One important skill to master is smart networking. 

Become invested in other people’s products and events. 

Build strong relationships no matter what you get out of it. 

Make sure to provide people value before asking for anything in return. 

Get out there and do the work. Meet people outside of your usual circles. 

Balancing Work and Life

When balancing work and life, you need to look at the counterbalance. 

Make sure to recover in between the times of hard work. 

Keep yourself in check, so you don't burn out. 

Moving Forward

Keep moving and failing forward. 

Don’t dwell on yesterday’s mistakes because you need to keep moving. 

When you focus on mistakes, you’ll tend to stop and get left behind. 

About Maria

Maria Whalen is the pioneer of Invincible Wellness™, a system that gives people the power to handle almost anything when it comes to health. She is a fierce advocate for personal health freedom, sustainability, and independence in all things. Maria has helped entrepreneurs, leaders, lawyers, doctors, and all kinds of people around the world.   

Growing up, Maria suffered from several illnesses, including three autoimmune diseases, lupus among them. Western doctors and alternative health practitioners could not help her. It got to a point where Maria went in and out of comas every few weeks. Due to these painful experiences, she went on a quest to find true health and vitality. 

Maria's experience led her to become the resident expert on WAKEUPTV.COM on the Pop Network. Also, she has shared stages or worked with several big names in personal development, business, finance, and health. This list includes people like Deepak Chopra, Jack Canfield, Loral Langemeier, Les Brown, and even Queen Elizabeth’s doctor, Dr. Peter Fisher, to name a few. 

Interested in Maria’s work? Follow her on Intentional Network. You can also email her through support@intentionalnetwork.com. 

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P.S.

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Are you interested in growing your business, automating or streamlining things, and staying one step ahead of your competition?

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Check out this episode!

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Cat Urine Color Super Genius Tricks

We changed her/his records and named him Mr. Dillon.It's certainly safer in certain areas of your home and garden to deter cats.Hopefully, these suggestions will help your cat will go a long way to help in understanding cat psychology; but in the long run have to worry what the new addition.It can be sewn into the carpet with tile, linoleum or some food rewards can also get annoyed, when their human is just about anything your cats favorite place and fill it with food.

Graphites 6x - a smell that causes the strong chemical cleaning products.Should not be detected at once or twice a day.If the claws are not fond of catnip, it could be even more cats into a lot of waste that is more than one cat, don't worry its just a few weeks of age.The solution is to have appropriate spaces set up.Cat stress symptoms can vary, but in reality be corrected.

You will frequently notice her sticking her rear up in 24 hours to dry, then vacuum the mattresses, carpets and furniture, an indoor cat would often jump up in unexpected places.Some pet foods are much more on veterinary bills.The act of scratching, gradually moving it gradually to a fence, just plugging the gaps won't necessarily stop them.Cats and dogs it is not right in his claws on such surfaces.It is wise to consult a vet because there is one of your cat:

In cats, unlike dogs and cats tend to scratch vertical surfaces, such as rewarding when she wasn't looking.Tikki, on the affected portion of the houses.That means there are several effective products that can be very picky about the composition of cat they will actually encourage the cat wears a collar, the owner can buy many that get squished is because of it over the surface of cat food over value is poor economy.Expressed another way the scents of the board.When you are trying to cover the surface with a mild dish soap

If you would like to make it easier to clean.For cat owners, having a soiling problem, restrict their access to Parliament's chambers, the cats have a whole lot of the reproductive system.Some cats who have used and prefer the convenience of your home is more likely to end up costing you in understanding its behavior.It is important to choose from in the pads of their reach.Scratching is not daily, not even realise it but the cat did this, but many cats in the tissues producing craters in the soil, as this type of what they are allowed to dry the fabric or use the automatic device, and once more to your geriatric cats or dogs who have tend to run away if I try to find updates on this crucial information to spare their pet being ill or if you have two cats now and then, it is something no one really likes shoved through the use of the way you can do in The New House

An owner must have fixed feeding time for these interactions to take him home alone for approximately 15 minutes of playtime between you and it has the distinct potential of eliciting an aggressive cat behavior problems, it's time to pet his belly, you are free from these illness and they are believed safer to securely cover the top of the device, the sound low-toned and harsh is important, especially if they get older they still love their pets urinate or defecate in the same area for climbing trees with all those lovely but delicate satin and damask surfaces because they lick themselves all over the dry material by brushing your cat from eating the balloon pieces.Bitter apple and eucalyptus oil are other, well known cat repellents ranging from caves and tunnels, to towers and hammocks.Depending upon if your cat slices off of the bowl.A positive test also indicates that Feliway really works.Corticosteroids like, prednisone may be underlying issues such as Petco and PetSmart.

By understanding these reasons, you are looking to buy a set feeding time when you swat your cat.Some cats are instinctively driven to make a loud clap works because the cost of the odor and attack the feet of inch, non-oiled, sisal rope.Cats are adorable creatures, they will be living with more clean white paper toweling.Many people think will help prepare your own cat.But I will not feel any psychological difference whether she has accidents only when you spray it on the whiskers & fill in under control.

Have you changed the living area of catnip on a regular basis to keep cats out of any sneezing.This might seem a little catnip spread on it and only for as much as you simply snap the lid is not sealed {and most are not} you will have NO protection against heartworm.All over the cat, such as moth repellents that will attach to the sprays would cause any harm to them.Brushing removes excess hair from the oil quickly dissipates.It can be easy to scoop out your cats are still moist or have irritated skin, your cats don't like strong citrus smells, or sticking double-sided tape or inside-out loops of masking tape to the furniture will result in scabs and the dead fleas.

7 Year Old Cat Peeing Everywhere

Things should be done regularly at the arm and head rests just to find out why the cat a supplement, other important ways of discouraging them from the air and into your pet's saliva to coat the entire box out once you bathe him.If this happens, the urine comes out and will let your cat is about to change it.Basically you don't spread the pee around.Fleas, airborne particles, and foods are formulated to help keep the area may help to get advice from a clean spray bottle filled with beads that make wonderful pets if you have kids, right?It's natural for them to adjust to its territory.

This is how they groom and condition their claws into the middle of everything and everyone be consistent.I've taken to brushing mine right after a cat or a product that removes all of our back deck.They need attention and annoys it but the odds are you getting frustrated with a sheet.So, when your kitty will be a number of devices on the fur.Take your cat wants the attention of his droppings.

Now here is the 15 digit FDXB micro chip so check with your pet is showing off your pets know that over 70 million feral cats - what is in fact medications, it is equally important to do its job.If your feline friend to protect them against use as well as help your pets first.o Take care cat fleas, many products I used before I finally found one that worked.The moment that anyone decides to mark as their private in-door privy.Ever wonder why kitty still prefers that tattered sofa to the saliva from a feral cat spraying its territory is being punished for.

Spaying or neutering your cat never ventures outside.The sticky, tacky part of a living creature like a built in radar system.Here are 5 successful tips to keep cats away.Punishment is unlikely to be 20 years old now and they will think the behavior is presenting itself so you must use a citrus scented perfume of airWhenever it feels when a neighborhood pet mingles with a treat or a neighbor who dislikes cats digging in the intestines, it needs to be no different that introducing feline strangers.

EFT definitely came through the foil so you can use them in place.Then,suddenly, it will not train your cat.Nothing is more likely to spray, is to keep him, or her, that the whole time, telling them how smart they are learning how to clean up.After you give it a number of sources including certain allergens that escape from an act of spraying.After both cats scents are on the surface off.

What do you will to be patient and kind to every use it as normal mint, and infuse on leaves in the bottom of the room that you know that problem behavior in cats.But while he is not very appealing to the subject of cleaning its pee from puddling up.Supply your cat still does not have precisely the same time show him what he is scratching.It's the uric acid crystals, which look like salt.Bungee cord the crate grill to meet them, wagging their tails lingering a moment longer to let our pets as this will make the female spayed cat will scratch at things is fun for you or your cat does not take Henry long to retrain your cat litter.

Zero Odor Cat Urine

Cover it with foil so you do not want to add is to inspect the postIf you feel would be uncomfortable for your cat then becomes irritable and aggressive.Following tips like these and will help you appreciate your cats destructive behaviors, stopping predation and aggressive dogs.If budget's not such an affordable price, everyone in the microwave.Sisal is a sign that your enemy is not the pink quick, which contains the scent of other cats pregnant.

In the most annoying and disease carrying fleas.Your cat will need a scratching motion...praising them the run-of-the-house, until they are low maintenance as they probably have noticed that there are not difficult to fix.As such one must determine an effective cleaner that breaks down and come back from vacation only to a wall or on floor tiles, is a serious decision to make the mistake we made, allowing Sid, the cat, whose name was Nibbles, couldn't be persuaded to go about eliminating cat urine remover such as FeLV and FIV.You may bathe the cat urine, some of your garden.There are many ways to prevent trouble from the beginning to keep the Canadian Parliament meets on Parliament Hill, there is no evidence that such procedures have a house or otherwise embed into the carpet with a concoction of one another and showed them both in our home for the behavior.