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betweenthepages · 3 years ago

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The Cure: Chapter 1

Summary: You get outed to your parents and it doesn’t go so well. But at least you have Jess Mariano.

Word count: 2370

⚠️Warnings⚠️: homophobia, homophobic violence

“Mom? Dad?” You called out, stepping into the silence of your home. You entered the living room and was met with the sight of both your parents seated on the couch. Your father’s gaze fixated on the floor with his hands clasped in front of him, lips drawn in a thin line. Your mother lifted her head in acknowledgment. The TV was off, no conversation being exchanged. Idleness hung in the atmosphere. “What’s going on?” You frowned. “Sit down, (Y/N).” Nervousness bubbled in your chest as you sat across from them. “Did I do something?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

Your dad’s eyes locked with yours. “Are you gay?” The question was completely unexpected. Your eyes widened in confusion. Sweat moistened your palms. “Am I- what?”

“Are. You. Gay. With that Mariano boy?” He gritted his teeth, his voice low to the point of growling. Your muscles tensed and you quickly debated coming clean or denying it. They wouldn’t be too pleased with the knowledge that you liked other boys, especially Jess. Heck you weren’t even allowed to be friends with him. You knew you couldn’t hide it forever. You were planning to let them know once you moved out and were no longer reliant on them. Perhaps deception would work, for now.

“No?” you put on your best act of confusion, “Where are you getting this from?” Your mother whipped her head towards you, eyes filled with a darkness that was completely unfamiliar. Your dad’s face reddened, fists clenched and visibly shaking. Fear clouded your senses. “What are these, then?” Your mother placed some pictures on the coffee table. Pictures of you and Jess. Holding hands and kissing. Your heart sunk to your stomach. “W-Where did you get these...?” Your voice was shaky from restraining tears. “They were left in our mailbox this morning, no envelope or name. How can you explain this (Y/N)?” Your mom scowled. Your throat went dry. Who would do this to you? Who hated you this much? Well, it didn’t matter who had done it, because there was no way to cover it up.

“It’s true, okay? I’m gay, I’ve been seeing Jess for-” You were cut off by a stinging pain on your cheek and a sharp sound echoing the room. Your father loomed over you, nostrils flaring and looking at you with pure hatred. You cowered in his shadow. “I did not raise a gay son! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! All those years of giving you a good life and a roof over your head for nothing! Disgraceful.” You whimpered as he fisted your hair painfully and reared your head back to look up at him. “You are not my son.” He spat. In quick seconds your body painfully collided with the coffee table, pain shooting up your abdomen. You barely had time to catch a breath before you were yanked up and slammed against the wall. Rough, calloused hands, pressing against your windpipe. You squirmed in an useless attempt to flee. Your chest tightened painfully. Your head felt light. You wanted Jess. He would hold you and protect you and take you away from this pain. Black spots dotted your vision and you thought ‘this is it. I’m going to die.’ Seconds before you passed out, the hands removed themselves and you collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath. You cherished the temporary relief of having oxygen in your lungs while it lasted. You were kicked down into a lying position, your father’s heel coming in contact with area that hit the table. Tears cascaded down your swollen cheeks as you curled into yourself. The blows kept coming. You just shut your eyes and took it, holding onto hope that it would end eventually. By the time your dad finally took his foot away, your body was at it’s breaking point. Every breath came with immense pain. Bruises, scrapes and cuts blemished your skin. “You’re going to get up,” your father spoke, “and get the fuck out of my house.” You briefly glanced to your mother standing in the corner, staring at you intently. Her expression was unreadable, but she voiced no protest. You were in no state to be able to pack your belongings. Hopefully you’d be able to return and collect them. Or maybe your parents would destroy them. Right now, it wasn’t your concern. Your dad left to the kitchen, probably to get a beer, and your mother followed suit. Mustering the last ounce of strength you had, you crawled to the front door. With every movement your muscles ached. Holding onto the wall for balance, you carefully rose to your feet. Only grabbing your phone and jacket, you exited onto the pitch black streets.

You limped in the direction of Luke’s Diner, but gave up after a block. You were physically incapable of covering the distance. You quickly dialled Jess’s number, tears blurring your vision. It rang once. Twice. Your heart hammered in your chest, your breathing grew heavy. You felt a panic attack oncoming and you needed to hear Jess’s voice. Please pick up, please pick up. “(Y/N)?” Jess said across the line, voice thick with sleep. “Jess...” you whimpered, words getting caught in your throat. “(Y/N) what’s up? It’s late.”

“I-I need you. I need help. It hurts, Jess.”

“What hurts? What happened?” He was awake now, and seemingly alarmed. “I need an ambulance,” you glanced at the street sign, “I’m on Peach Street. Call them and get here, p-please.” Staying conscious was becoming a struggle. “Okay, okay hold on I’ll make the call.” Jess quickly switched lines and you leaned against the wall, waiting. Watching the stars kept you occupied. You were about to close your eyes until the blaring of a siren approached. You could vaguely recognise a car following behind it. As it neared, you recognised it as Luke’s pick up truck. You couldn’t see Jess’s face, but knowing that he came provided some relief. Jess got to you before the paramedics did. Warm hands cupped your battered face and soft caresses ghosted your skin. . “(Y/N), god what happened?” You chuckled bitterly. “Mom and dad found out about us. I’ll explain later. It didn’t go so well though.” You clutched your side. Talking was painful. Jess was about to say something but the paramedics told him to back away so they could load you into a stretcher. “Sir? Sir try to stay awake please.” Said a female paramedic as your eyelids drooped. Jess was out of your vision, but you could make out his voice shouting over them, asking to come on the ambulance. Of course that privilege wouldn’t be extended to non-family. Luke told him to buckle up and he’ll drive them there. You were exhausted, and the pain in your body was unbearable. Your allowed your eyes to shut, darkness replacing the blinding ambulance lights.

Jess and Luke sat in the waiting room, anxiously awaiting news about your condition. Jess’s leg was shaking and he seemed distanced in his thoughts. He had told Luke on the way that this had something to do with your parents. He’s had his fair share of beatings from Liz’s boyfriends, but he was struck with disbelief knowing someone could cause this much damage to their own child. The doctor emerged. “How is he?” Luke asked. “He has 3 broken ribs, internal bleeding, several deep cuts, contusions and a dislocated jaw. But he’s no longer in critical condition. It’s good we got to him when we did, or it may have been too late.” Jess‘s eyes widened and his blood ran cold. Luke thanked the doctor and bid him goodbye, then focused his attention on his distressed nephew. “T-They almost killed him...” Jess whispered, eyes widened and watery. Luke sighed, pulling the boy into a side hug. In truth, he was just as worried as your boyfriend was. He was accepting your relationship and cared for you. Ever since you’d come into Jess’s life, his immature ways and short temper had ceased. His school attendance went up as well as his grades. The sarcastic remarks and witty insults weren’t going away anytime soon, but Luke knew there was a mutual love between him and his nephew. And he knew you meant the absolute world to Jess. “You heard the doctors. He’ll be okay. He’s strong.” He rubbed the teen’s shoulder in consolation.

Patients and visitors entered and exited the hospital doors while Luke and Jess sat in silence. The clock was about to strike 1am yet they were more awake than ever. Jess hadn’t particularly liked your parents previously, but now his hatred for them ran deep. Upon his first arrival to Stars Hollow, they had advised you to keep your distance because word of his troublemaking antics spread fast. But you with your sweet, kind soul was willing to give him a chance.

A nurse approached them. “(Y/N) (L/N) is awake. You can see him now.” Jess bounded to his feet, swiftly stepping to your room without waiting for Luke to follow. He paused abruptly at your door and took a breath. Your head turned at the sound of the door slowly creaking open. Jess stepped in, and a feeling of warmth evaded your body despite the chill of the hospital room. You shifted to make room for him on the bed. Without a word, he embraced you. Careful not to hurt you, he rested his head on your shoulder, and the cloth of the gown dampened. “Jess.” You cooed, rubbing his back. “I almost lost you...” he mumbled. “I-It’s okay. I’m not okay, but I will be. The hospital staff are doing their best.” You attempted a smile but it hurt your face. Jess pulled away with a sigh, calloused hand cupping your cheek. “I want to know what happened. Not now, if you don’t feel like it. When you’re ready.”

“Well, I got home and my mom showed these pictures someone took of us kissing. She said they were left in the mailbox by an anonymous. I told them that I’m gay and that we’re dating, and... yeah.” You averted your gaze to you and Jess’s intertwined hands, playing with his fingers. Jess furrowed his brows. “Why would anybody-” You cut him off. “I don’t care about that now Jess. It’s all so much, I’m gonna see a social worker and the police, I don’t know where I’m going to live, people are gonna talk about what happened. Plus I’m tired and everything’s sore.” You felt like crying again before Jess shushed you, carding his hands through your hair and kissing your cheek. “Hey hey, (Y/N) I’m sorry. Calm down.” He readjusted to a laying position and carefully guided you into laying down on top of him, using his toned chest as a pillow. “I love you. So much. We can figure everything out later, just get some sleep. It’s almost midnight.”

“I want you to stay and be there when I wake up.” You said. “Okay.” Jess smiled. There was a cough, you both turned to see Luke in the doorway. “Well, I’ll leave you guys alone and uh, Jess I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.” He nodded, “Goodnight (Y/N), call me if you need anything.” You smiled at him and bid your goodbyes, before it was back to just you and your boyfriend. Jess leaned over to turn off the light. “I love you, Jess.” You said into the darkness. He responded with a long kiss to your forehead.

Jess woke up first. The hospital staff hadn’t arrived yet, so he wouldn’t get in trouble. He pressed light kisses on your forehead until your eyes fluttered open. “Morning.” He smirked. “Morning,” you grumbled, nuzzling into him. “What’s going on today?” He asked. “I explained the cause of my injuries to the doctor and now I’ve got to talk to the authorities. Then I’m seeing a social worker and doing some paperwork.”

“Where you going to stay?” Jess asked softly.

“If my parents get arrested then I’ll probably get sent to a foster home.” You sighed. “Is that what you want?” Jess frowned. “No, not at all. I mean, no way I’m living with my parents again, but also idea the of going with strangers...” you trailed off, focusing on drawing shapes on his chest. “Move into the diner.” Jess said without no hesitation. “Jess you know I can’t-”

“Yes you can! Really (Y/N), we can talk to Luke about it.”

“Talk to me about what?” Luke stood in the doorway wearing a questioning expression. “Sorry, I was going to knock but I overheard my name.” He chuckled. “Can (Y/N) stay with us?” Jess asked. “Jess no-“

“Sure, I don’t see why not.” Luke shrugged. “I- what?” You turned to Luke in shock. “We can make that arrangement, if that’s what you want (Y/N). You’re at the diner most of the time anyways.” It was true. You always stayed over with Jess and had dates at the diner to keep your relationship discreet. “Well yes, but being a permanent occupant is completely different.” You frowned. “Hey kid, your parents are real shitty people. This is a hard time for you. I have a feeling you don’t want to end up in the foster care system, so this is one less problem to deal with.” He said.

Jess spoke up, “(Y/N), I’m okay with it, and Luke is okay with it. So why the hell not?” You felt like crying again. You practically pounced on Jess babbling a string of ‘thank you’s and peppering kisses on his face in between. He laughed heartily, rubbing your back. Luke observed with a tender smile. “Thank you Luke, really.”

“No problem kid.” He gently placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to seem as less threatening as possible. “Jess and I have to go, the staff are gonna be here any minute. But rest up okay?” You nodded. Jess really didn’t want to leave, you assured him visiting hours were long and regular. Eventually he pulled away and you shared one last kiss before he was out of sight.

#gilmore girls #bxb #jess mariano #male reader #jess mariano x male reader #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano x y/n #gilmore girls fanfiction #fanfic

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rumblelibrary · 3 years ago

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Back at it again with mysterious anon,

Could I request some Niki angst? You've done one where the reader cheats on James to be with Niki so maybe reader cheats on Niki with James 👀

Muted [Niki Lauda x Reader]

Word count: 2k

Warnings: angst

A/N: This one makes no sense, I just wanted to break my own heart. Little narration, a lot of feelings.

Niki wished to be able to tear his ears off when he heard James sweet talk to you after a pre-season testing. He whispered sweet nothings to you, telling you how he would sweep you off your feet, bring you away to his house in England.

Then things got heated, he started mentioning how he wished to do you this and that. He didn't need to be specific with his words, Niki could easily understand the situation by how y didn't even flinch or tried to deny yourself.

He knew you, he knew you too well.

With him you have always been protective, jealous, proud of your relationship and there was only one way he could imagine you giving in.

You already gave up. He already lost you before that very moment, you slipped through his fingers like water through wood, following every curve and every wrinkle, weakening it from the outside until you got to the inside, opening it up, exposing it.

His jaw clenched, he pulled his cap over his eyes as he marched away.

There was no time to regret, no time to think twice, he had only one thing to do.

Throw the soaked wood away.

You were speechless the moment you came home to find your stuff already dislocated outside the door, your keys completely useless in the brand new locker.

Very Niki: efficient, resolute and without looking back.

You knocked at the door, you waited but there was no answer.

Your eyes darted down onto the simple and effective doormat you brought, or was it already there when you moved in? As you wondered why it had to end like this, you didn't even act surprised, you knew perfectly what you did and you took full responsibility over your actions.

You were no saint in this situation and maybe it was bold of you to just expect confrontation from Niki.

You considered to just leave, even if pained you to go like that, but you were temporary bruiselessp, you knew actions weren’t the most painful weapon in Niki’s arsenal, it was his cut throat way of speaking and in particular when it came to you.

Before you could have the time to realise that it wasn’t a punishment but a chance the door opened. Wild curls and beaming eyes, simple home clothing and steady hands.

He was everything you ever wanted and all you could never achieve.

“Niki” you murmured as you looked at him “Listen”

He looked at you eyebrows up “Oh, no I think I heard enough today between you and Hunt”

“No, no, now you’ll listen”

You paced inside the house quickly to stand in front of him, a visible frown over

your features.

Don’t do it, you ket telling yourself, just leave, just go, don’t confront him, you can’t win.

He was right, you cheated but it was’t pure lust, it wasn’t like you enjoyed to hurt him and hadn’t felt a single beat of guilt, you just wanted him to know that.

“Tell me the truth, were you even serious with me?”

You asked him and the question made him cringe.

“Like what? The doubt made you wish to make sure you will always have a bed to sleep into? We lived together, sounds pretty serious to me, evident if you apply a bit of brain power in it”

You frowned as he was hurt and he was attacking you but he saw you wanted to talk and he smirked shaking his head “What are you doing? Finding a way to put the blame on me?”

“I just want to talk Niki” you groaned but he rolled his eyes

“No, you just want to tell me why you did it”

He was stone cold, maybe you hoped he’d react somehow, maybe a bit, maybe just a bit. And now he was just humiliating you even more. No matter the pain of being cheated on, he wouldn’t let you win that either.

In that moment you realised that your gut feeling was right, you should have just disappeared.

“Go on, how bad can I have been to make you decide it was better to fuck James Hunt?”

“You never cared about me”

It was dry as an answer, you hated yourself forn ot being able to express all you went through now that it was the time, his eyebrows shot up in disbelief and a bit of

sassiness. He was mocking you.

“Didn’t I?”

“No, not when you’re constantly dismissing me, telling me anything I say it is stupid or judging anything I do from your superior being. Anything I did was poorly done, or not the right moment or just not enough for you”

“You’re not stupid, but clearly you need to see everything through your heart shaped eyeglasses, right? You need confirms and words and speeches and big excitement. Well, go play the princess somewhere else, what I offered you will be the only true relationship you’ll ever have, and you know it. I never lied to you, I never cheated on you, I tried to better somebody that liked to stay as she is, that’s my only fault”

“I didn’t want to be somebody else, I just wanted you to care about something, anything that was not your job”

“So fucking around was a better choice to keep your ego up”

“No, but at least somebody would gave a fuck about me”

You snapped back immediately to him, you couldn’t remember the last time

you and Niki had sex, maybe a little shag in the middle of the night but it

felt more like trying to get rid of the tension to fall asleep.

He rolled his eyes like little he cared, his hands opening like you just stated what you had to do:get the fuck out.

That always hurt you: the fact that whenever he seemed driven to you, he would pull you into amazing kisses and heated love sessions but always at his time, his desires. If you ever leaned to kiss his neck or reach for him when he was busy or doing something more important, which was most of the times, he would shrug you off, literally closing the space between his neck and shoulder, stretching his back to get you away.

Not now.

Stop it.

Don't be like this.

You really aren’t good at picking timings, are you?

Those words hunted you day by day, you felt like he didn't need you, like anything you did was wrong, flawed, helplessly meant to annoy him one way or another.

You always seemed to organise dates in the wrong days, to wish to stay lazy at home on the wrong day, to pick the wrong moment, the wrong occasion, the wrong words, the wrong topic.

There were times you even woke up with him, you would sit at the breakfast table with him, not knowing if to engage a conversation or just trying to show him your support. You just wanted to see him even if you didn’t know if he would stay outside for the night or leave for some business meeting or whatnot.

But it was never worth it, it was never enough.

Every time you engaged him for confirms or any kind of formal commitment you always were out of place, out of time.

Your touches denied, no sweet words for your ears. You felt like a shadow beside him, you weren't there for the good and neither fo the bad. You weren't into his thoughts and not even into his hopes.

You grew detached from him, angry, you wished to hurt him even though every time you found yourself staring in his eyes you felt bubbles in your stomach and an happy feeling. A voice in your chest telling you how much you cared, how dear he was to you.

And yet , no fondness was reserved to you, no tender touches or gentle words.

It was just the bare minimum of a relationship.

So it felt natural, terribly natural that when somebody, it was James but you know anyone could have worked it out, gave you the backhand of attention you felt loved and blessed. Did your heart flutter when you saw him? Probably not, but he held your hand, he wanted to spend time with you, he stayed in bed after sex with you, he held you and not just dealt with you. You didn’t feel dumb every second of your day with him.

Because that's how Niki made you feel.

Like you were a burden and you'd gladly relieve him now from that, even if you never wished for it to happen this way.

Not reducing it all to the unstoppable drive of sex, your pain was discarded, once more.

You probably deserved it, you got it in the moment you admitted your weakness to him, the moment you slipped into some other man’s bed instead of facing him.

Or maybe, admit it, maybe you just hoped that he would lose control.

Just once, just one time he would have to put the rest aside and focus only on you.

"Now that you wasted some more of my time" he held the door open and waited.

You felt anger and sadness mixed up, the realisation that even now you couldn't win against him.

You'd never get your point across, you will just be the cheater and he would be right.

The loud slam followed your exit as your eyes dropped onto the couple of luggages belonging to you, all your stuff. You never realised it was so little.

You didn't feel like seeing James, let out friends and family that will give you random hypocritical phrases to cheer you up.

Maybe you'll go to an hotel, maybe you'll just leave.

You wished to change your name, change yourself.

The instinctive thought that crossed your mind made you gag, because for a moment, just a random malicious moment, you imagined how beautiful it could be to start from the beginning with Niki.

And maybe you won't do the same mistakes, maybe you'd be better.

James told you many times that you didn't have a reason to feel less than Niki, but the truth was that after hearing to be wrong, do wrong and act wrong, you begun to believe it.

And as you dragged your stuff t the car and drove off you begun wondering what life could be without Niki and while watching you and your little suitcases he wondered why you have such a small amount of things. He wondered if you have always looked so frail, he wondered if there will ever be an after you.

Or maybe, all hope was leaving with you, you were his Pandora’s box, a box full of all the feelings he prohibited himself to distract him and the hope was leaving with you, hidden tightly in the perfect cage of your chest.

Far from him, safer.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog

#niki lauda x you #Niki Lauda angst #niki lauda imagine #niki lauda x reader #niki lauda fanfiction #niki lauda fic #niki lauda rush 2013 #daniel bruehl #Daniel bruhl #tw: angst

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years ago

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[ oikawa + dating an s/o with chronic illness & pain ]

anon: hello! i know this is a bit out of the ordinary & you absolutely don't have to if you don't want to, but would you be willing to write some ushijima/hinata/oikawa/atsumu [these are just options you def don't have to do all of them] with a s/o that has chronic illness & pain?

a/n: hiiii !! okay so i did some research on living with chronic illness and pain (mostly watching youtube videos for a visual) because i don’t want to misrepresent anything. i do hope that i do this well and please let me know if there are any parts that i should fix !! also, added the little detail of oikawa being a doctor who fan because i feel like he is one

just for clarification, since there are different kinds of chronic illnesses out there, y/n has EDS (ehlers-danlos syndrome)

oikawa had been your childhood friend since forever and the two of you were also neighbors

ever since you were young, he often noticed that you were always ‘clumsy’ and somehow getting into all sorts of accidents. you two would be walking and your ankles would suddenly give way and you’d end up falling

along with that, you were terrible at sports and always tired out and ached all over even after one PE session. the two of you just assumed you were just not the active type

whenever oikawa and iwaizumi were playing volleyball, you were always sitting from a distance cheering the both of them on although he sometimes felt bad that you couldn’t join in so he’d invite you inside to watch shows with him

the two of you bonded over doctor who and would watch hours of it on end. oikawa’s definitely a nerd and loves gushing to you about the show and seeing you enjoy it

you and oikawa definitely grew closer over the years and he began to see you as someone who was more than a friend. in your second year of high school, he finally asked if you would like to date him (definitely did the whole ‘would you be the companion to my doctor?’ whole thing because he’s a nerd

of course you were happy because you thought oikawa just saw you as a friend. a lot of your dates consisted of doing stuff at home and the occasional cafe visit

as you grew older, your symptoms became way more apparent and obvious to you as ‘not normal’ but it was oikawa who took them more seriously compared to other people

it became so common for a shoulder to dislocate and at one point you even had to wear knee braces to help you walk. you were also constantly feeling tired or nauseous

he helped you with convincing your parents to talk to a doctor and of course it took a whole lot of visits before they were finally able to diagnose you with EDS

of course oikawa has already started researching on your condition as much as possible. he definitely wishes that he helped you and convinced your family much earlier on

at first, it was hard for you manage all your medications, especially the ones for your blood pressure and pain, but oikawa helped you a lot. the two of you once spent about an hour sorting your meds into a pill organizer

he also has alarms on his phone to help remind you when to take your medications

in the mornings, he likes to give you a good morning call to wake you up and keep you company after blood pressure spikes up and while you wait for your medications to kick in

knows you need a bit of help in the morning going through your routine so sometimes he comes over to your house to help you. he’s VERY meticulous about washing his hands

oikawa did a bit of research on how to manage your fingers constantly dislocating so he bought you some finger splints and a thumb brace

he thinks they look cool on your fingers and even suggested that you put blades on them

you: why would i put blades on my finger splints?

oikawa: you know, for the people who say you’re overreacting

you: oHOOOO

ok but i don’t think you can they might cut your own fingers

he also got you a thumb brace but he got it designed with a moon and stars pattern so it looks pretty

things of course got a bit more difficult when your condition started to affect your gastro-intestinal system and you had to start using a feeding tube

you couldn’t eat food like normal anymore and being in school was more difficult since you basically ate by injecting nutrients in through your tube

whenever he heard anyone whispering about you in school, if they said anything at all about you overreacting, oikawa would quickly shut them down because they had no idea what you were going through

one time he had the bright idea of cheering you up by sticking a picture of himself on your IV pole for you to look at whenever you feel sad

he looked SO PROUD when he showed you and you took one look at the oikawa IV pole and just went ‘what makes you think i want to see you staring at me while i inject my nutrients?’

oikawa: i thought :( it would make you feel better :(

you: maybe if it was a picture of david tennant...

oikawa: wow, was david tennant the one who popped your shoulder into place earlier? NO

when class picture day comes along, oikawa could tell that you were insecure about having to take your picture with your feeding tube in plain sight

he sits beside you while you do your make-up and even helps out with fixing your hair when you feel too tired. all too help you feel like your best self

and THEN, he surprises you with a feeding tube sticker that’s in the shape of saturn. he even has a temporary tattoo that’s in the shape of an alien

oikawa: it’s so that we’re matching, y/n!

it makes you feel a bit better knowing that you and your boyfriend are matching and oikawa’s super careful sticking the tape on your feeding tube and cheek

and the two of you take a whole bunch of selfies before your picture with your faces pressed together, showing the matching space icons on your cheeks

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

a/n: once again, i hope that you guys like this. for those with chronic illness & pain, i hope i didn’t misrepresent anything (again, please let me know if i did and i’ll edit this post) and for those without, i hope this was also a good read :)

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist):@montys-chaos @miyumtwins @strawberriimilkshake @pocubo @sugawara-sweetheart @akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan @therainroguefanfiction @atetiffdoesart @stephdaninja @oikaw-ugh @charliefredb @dramaqueenweeb1469 @tremblinghearts @applepienation @doodleniella @haikyuu-my-love @waitforitillwritemywayout @kattykurr @atsumusdomain @goodfoodxoxoxo @ah-kaashi @guardianangelswings @definitely-yours @amberalisa @whootwhoot @liz-multifandom-hotel @kac-chowsballs

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quase-bruxa · 4 years ago

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Samhain / Haloween

The Festival of Samhain marked the end of the Celtic year and the beginning of the new one and as such can be seen to the equivalent of New Year's Eve. We have seen how the Celts believed that night preceded day and so the festivities took place on the Eve of Samhain. There is no doubt that that this festival was the most important of the four Celtic Festivals. Samhain was a crucial time of year, loaded with symbolic significance for the pre-Christian Irish. The celebrations at Tlachtga may have had their origins in a fertility rite on the hill but it gathered to itself a corpus of other beliefs which crystallised at the great Fire Festival.

The perceptible, and apparent, decline in the strength of the sun at this time of year was a source of anxiety for early man and the lighting of the Winter Fires here symbolised mans attempt to assist the sun on its journey across the skies. Fire is the earthly counterpart of the sun and is a powerful and appropriate symbol to express mans helplessness in the face of the overwhelming sense of the decay of nature as the winter sets in.

Now the sun has descended into the realm of the underworld, the forces of the underworld were in the ascendency. The lord of the underworld, unfettered from the control of the sun, now walked the earth and with him travelled all those other creatures from the abode of the dead. Ghosts, fairies and a host of other non-descript creatures went with him. The Lord of the Dead in Celtic mythology can be identified as Donn.

Mythology tells us that when the invaders of Ireland known as the Miliseans landed at the Boyne, they made their way to Tara. Once there, they were advised by the Druids that they should return to their ships and sail off the shore to the length of nine waves. When they were on the sea a great storm arose which scattered their fleet. The commander of one of the ships was Donn. His ship was broken to pieces in the storm and he himself drowned along with twenty four of his comrades. He was buried on the Skellig Islands off the coast of Kerry.

He is the first of the new wave of invaders to meet his death in Ireland and, as such, he became elevated to the status of god of the dead. The place of his burial became known as Tech Donn - The house of Donn, and soon became identified with with the otherworld. The Celts were fascinated with tracing their ancestry back as far as they could and often they identified their earliest ancestors with the gods of their peoples. Hence, a belief arose that when they died they went to the house of their ancestor, the god of the otherworld.

It is interesting to note that the abode of Donn, on the Skellig Islands, is just a few miles from the traditional home of Mog Ruith at Valentia Island. As well as being geographical neighbours, both are closely associated with Samhain, when it can be said that Mog Ruith as sungod sojourns at the realm of the underworld, the abode of Donn.

Donn is seen as a retiring god who prefers the isolation of the bleak Skelligs and remains aloof from the other gods. His name means "brown" and he is associated with the shadowy realm of the dead. O'hOgain tells us that a ninth century text attributes a highly significant quotation to him "To me, to my house, you shall come after your death"

Many other sources say that the dead assemble at his house and describe deceased people travelling to and from here. Fishermen in the area were wont to hear strange boats passing to the island at night and the names of those who disembarked were called out. Later Christian writers claimed that the souls of the damned lingered at his house before departing for hell. Not surprisingly, aspects of his personage have been adapted by Christian writers in their portrayal of the devil.

Samhain being the feast of the dead can now be clearly seen as incorporating the cult of Donn into its celebrations but how they did so remains uncertain. The Fires were in all likelihood lit in honour of the sungod - here manifesting as Mog Ruith, but certain other of the trappings are clearly associated with the Lord of the Dead. The idea that Samhain is a juncture between the two halves of the year saw it acquiring the unique status of being suspended in time - it did not belong to the old year not the new. It could be said that time stood still on this night and the implications of this were immense. During this night the natural order of life was thrown into chaos and the earthly world of the living became hopelessly entangled with the world of the dead. But the world of the dead was itself a complicated place, peopled not only by the spirits of the departed, but also with a host of gods, fairies and other creatures of uncertain nature.

The unwary traveller, caught away from home on this night, could expect to encounter any one or many of these creatures and it was always advisable to stay indoors. Ghosts were everywhere and may or may not have been harmful to the living. It is interesting to note that the manuscripts tells us that all fires in the country must be extinguished on this night and could only be relit from the great flames from Tlachtga. This, of course, is not to taken literally but symbolised the brief and temporary ascendency of the powers of darkness at this time of year.

During this period all the world was in darkness and the dead were abroad. When the fire at Tlachtga was lit, it gave the signal that all was well and all other fires could now be relit. The fires at Talchtga were the public celebration of the victory of light, while the relighting of the household fire marked the domestic celebration of the feast. Now the spirits of dead ancestors could be welcomed back into the home with safety and posed no threat to the household. This theme is repeated constantly in Irish literature. MacCollugh tells us that the cult of the dead culminated at the family health. Very often the spirits of ancestors sought warmth around the fireside on this night. Fires were left lighting in the grate to warm the spirits and food was left out for them. Even though the ancestral ghosts were benign, it was still a good idea to avoid them by going to bed early.

However, the ghosts may not have been entirely benign. They needed some sort of appeasement in the form of ritual offerings on this night. So long as the offering was forthcoming the ghosts were happy and benevolent, but if the offering was withheld another side of the ghosts features were presented. Bad luck would descend on the household and all would not be well the coming year. Some vestiges of this tradition may survived in the modern Halloween custom of "trick or treat". Children, dressed as ghosts and witches, invite the household to make a donation or face the consequences. The 'treat' may represent the ritual offering while the 'trick', nowadays a harmless prank, may have in antiquity, represented the malevolent consequences of inadequately appeasing the ancestral ghost on this night.

But it was not just time that was dislocated at Samhain. Just as the festival stands on the boundary between Summer and Winter, all other boundaries were in danger at this time. The boundaries between a mans land and his neighbours were a dangerous place to be on this night. Ghosts were to be found along these points and a style between adjacent land was a place of particular dread and best avoided. Bridges and crossroads were also likely places to encounter ghosts. Naturally enough, burial places were avoided on all nights but particularly on this night. Every sort of a ghost was to be seen here and the dead mingled freely with the living.

The practice of divination - telling the future, was an important part of everyday life for the Celts and it is certain that this art formed a central part of the festivities occurred at Tlachtga at Samhain. Vestiges of this can be seen today at Halloween are familiar with the practice of going to the church at midnight on Halloween and standing in the porch. The courageous observer will see the spirits of those who will die in the coming year if he watches closely, but runs the risk of meeting himself. Similarity, girls watching in a mirror on this night will see the image of the man they will marry but also run the risk of seeing the devil.

Those brave enough to go to a grave yard at midnight and walk three times around the graves will be offered a glimpse the future but again run the risk of meeting the devil. This latter example is interesting as it preserves the three time sunwise turn so important to the Celts in the ritual. The possibility of meeting the devil may represent the well known Christian attempt to associate the pagan god of the dead with the devil of Christian belief. This being the case, Donn the Lord of the Dead, left his island home on this night and travelled freely throughout the country. Whether he carried off souls is unclear, but it is likely that he did. The ritual offerings on the Winter Fires may have been an attempt to appease him until, such time in history, he was replaced on the arrival of Christianity by the devil.

The early Irish manuscripts are littered with references to the magical significance of Samhain. It marked the end of the fighting and hunting season for the warrior troop known as the Fianna. At Samhain they retreated into winter camp, quartering themselves on the general population until the return of Summer at Beltainne. Fionn MacCumhail chose Samhain as the time to present himself before the court at Tara for the first time, while it was also at Samhain that the god Lugh made his dramatic entrance to the same court. The Connaught queen, Meave, waited until Samhain before setting out on the great Cattle Raid of Cooley.

Fionn MacCumhail, Lugh and Cuchulainn - Meave's opponent, are the three great figures of Irish mythology and it is interesting to note how Samhain is the time chosen by the writers to introduce their arrival on the scene. The Battle of Mag Tuired (supposedly in County Mayo) was fought at Samhain. It seems that when the early writers wish to impart a magical quality to the events they are depicting, they choose the Festival of Samhain for the occasion. There remains little doubt that Samhain held a central place in the imagination of the Celts, where the festivities associated with several local gods became entangled, over the course of perhaps a thousand years, with the feast of the god of the dead. Remnants of these celebrations have come down to us in our own celebrations of Halloween.

An excerpt from Tlachtga: Celtic Fire festival by John Gilroy.

#samhain

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readystays · 6 months ago

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pameluke · 4 years ago

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Lay Your Head Down (5859 words) by Pameluke

Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)

Rating: Explicit | Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova

Additional Tags: Team Bonding, Post-Merrick, Recovery, Domestic Downtime, Rimming, Shaving, Background Andy, Background Nile, Italy, Domestic Fluff, References to Temporary Character Dead, Porn with Feelings

Summary:

The team takes time to recover after Merrick and finds refuge in the hills of Tuscany. They find a new equilibrium, and Joe and Nicky take time to indulge in one another.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

They bunker down somewhere in the middle of nowhere in the Maremma Toscana, in a remote house in the hills, surrounded by fields, olive orchards and patches of forest. The closest village is 20 minutes away by car on a dusty rocky road up the hillside, and the closest houses are abandoned farmhouses, big, sprawling ruins that only house birds and mice now.

For a week they mostly sleep, eat and recover. Andy isn’t used to being in pain for a sustained period of time, so she’s cranky and quiet. She disappears to the roof for hours on end, staring at the wide-open skies spanning the rolling hills, her necklace held tight in her fist. But she sticks around, and that’s what matters. Nile still misses her family, going back and forth between bouts of energy in which she swims in the pool, cleans the kitchen or trains until the sweat is running down her back; or no energy at all, in which she stays on her bed or stares into her coffee for hours at a time. She joins Andy on the roof sometimes, but they don’t speak.

Booker’s betrayal isn’t mentioned by anyone, but his absence is felt all the more in the quiet and empty spaces.

Joe keeps touching the back of Nicky’s head as if to make sure he has indeed healed. Nicky keeps grinding his teeth, the callous words of dr. Kozak ringing through his head. “The Nobel Prize.” He tries yoga and meditation, but nothing frees him from the memories. It’s not so much the violence and death, he can usually shrug that off. It's the being captured and the threat of being tortured indefinitely – what if Nicky would have to have watched Joe in pain for decades, for centuries, what if they’d taken Joe away, what if Nicky would never have known if he was dead or captured somewhere, what if they’d found a way to kill him – while being faced with Andy’s new mortality.

They all have nightmares. Some old. Some new.

When the bone-deep exhaustion starts to fade, they slowly start to drift towards one another. Joe draws: the views, Nicky, some dark and violent abstracts that make Nicky kiss his temple and coax him to bed. Nicky cooks, throwing himself on old recipes that require focus and time, making sure to serve Andy some of her favorite dishes, and learning Nile’s taste in food in an attempt to cheer her up.

He doesn’t bake croissants.

Andy, always bad at doing nothing for a long time, lures Nile into sparring with her by pretending to need help with her recovery. Nile mostly agrees in an attempt to make sure Andy doesn’t put too much strain on her injuries. Soon they’re all involved and taking turns, getting used to Nile’s fighting style and presence at their backs while coming to terms with the fact that Andy is no longer unbreakable.

Nile is enthusiastic and hungry to learn, eager to battle away her demons and frustrations, and her determination to take at least one of them down makes sparring almost feel fun again. They roast and jest and mock each other goodheartedly and it doesn’t take long for it all to end up in a bet. For a moment the quiet following Nicky’s dare is deafening because they all expect Booker to throw down the gauntlet and some cash, but Nile breaks the silence and they power through it.

Nicky and Joe team up against Andy and Nile, hand to hand, no broken bones, their honor and the dishes at stake.

After almost a thousand years of fighting together, Nicky and Joe are two sides of the same blade, half a look enough to coordinate their attacks and defensive maneuvers. Andy, however, is a force of nature all on her own. Even with her still-healing injuries, she hits like a hammer. What’s worse, she knows Nicky and Joe almost as well as they know each other, so she seems able to predict every move they make. If not for Nile, the three of them would probably have ended up in an hour-long stalemate, grappling and dodging each other deep into the night. It’s Nile who serves as the tie-breaker, her moves unexpected, and her team work with Andy surprisingly smooth considering their short acquaintance.

“It’s because she tried to kill me,” Andy jokes from her position on Nicky’s back, his arm and leg in a tight hold he can only get out of if he dislocates an arm. Which he can and would do, but per the standing game rules, dislocations fall under broken bones, even if self-inflicted. So he’s well and truly stuck.

It takes Nicky a second to recognize the splashing sound in the background as Joe falling in the pool. No help is coming.

“You actually killed me!” Nile protests, indignant and breathless. Her shirt’s ripped, but she’s laughing as she holds out a hand for Andy to high five, her face alight with glee.

“Can’t argue with that kind of connection,” Joe says, spitting out pool water and wiping wet hair from his eyes. He winks at Nicky, mirth obvious in his eyes even though he looks somewhat like a wet poodle.

Andy gets off of him, patting him on the back in apology. Nicky just grins and perches his chin on his hands, staying on the terrace floor a little longer. His gaze lingers on Joe as he rises from the pool, following the water rivulets down his body and drinking in the way his wet shirt clings to his chest. He’s all smooth steps and languid stretches as he dries his hair and a familiar warmth pools in Nicky’s belly. A really attractive wet poodle, Nicky thinks.

Between a new mortal Andy and a new immortal Nile, and with the absence of Booker, they’ve both been too tired and sad, too focused on finding a new equilibrium, to do more than seek comfort and closeness. But now the warmth keeps spreading through Nicky’s body with the way every stretch puts Joe’s body on display.

Soon, Nicky thinks, licking the corner of his mouth, turning on his side to better be able to admire Joe. He gets a wet shirt in his face for his trouble.

“Later,” Joe says, grinning at him, chest bared, droplets still clinging to his chest hair. “Food first, and then the dishes.”

Nicky pretends to grumble while he gets up and they make their way back into the house, but mostly he admires Joe’s naked back while he enjoys the simmer of anticipation.

They’re paying their debt and doing the dishes when Andy joins them in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a cup of tea. “Me and Nile are going to do some sight-seeing for the next couple of days.”

Nicky’s first reaction is a deep sense of discomfort and the urge to vehemently object. Andy is mortal now, he wants to be there to watch her back. Joe’s hand creeps under the hem of his shirt, fingers pressing into his lower back, and Nicky leans into the touch, centering himself. Andy juts her chin forward as if she can read Nicky’s thoughts and disagrees on principle. “I don’t like being cooped up this long, Nile has never been to Italy before, and you two could use a little time on your own.”

It’s all true, but that doesn’t make Nicky feel any more comfortable with the situation. He’s never worried about Andy being on her own before, and it’s not like she’s lost the centuries of skills she’s gathered. It’s just that he’s supposed to have her back. He loves her. She’s family.

He’s already lost Quynh and now Booker is lost in a way as well. He can’t lose Andy too.

He doesn’t say anything, though, just sighs.

“Where will you go?” Joe asks, diffusing the tension. Internally, he’s probably making a shortlist of restaurant recommendations of the wider area, taking into account their culinary reputation as much as available exit strategies, as if Andy needs any help in that regard.

Andy shrugs. “We’ll stay in the area. Pienza, Asciano, definitely a couple of days in Siena.” Her eyes get a little glint in them, and Nicky shakes his head at her. She wouldn’t. “We’ll probably make a stop at the abbey at Monte Oliveto, to admire the frescoes.”

She would.

Next to him, Joe bursts out laughing, and Nicky groans, bumping his head against Joe’s shoulder. “Don’t,” he objects, although he knows it’s of no use.

“Don’t worry, Nile won’t recognize you,” Joe consoles him, patting his butt very deliberately. Wicked, wicked man. They both know she won’t need to recognize him, Andy will be more than happy to point him out.

“At least it’s flattering,” Andy shrugs, sealing his fate.

In the morning, Nicky makes everybody breakfast and makes Andy and Nile lunch to go. They agreed that Andy and Nile would only stay away one week, and they’ll both check-in through phone in three days.

Still, nobody can blame him if he holds Andy a little longer than he normally would. He hugs Nile too and is thanked with a softly whispered, “don’t worry, I’ll watch her back, I’ve got this.” It makes him smile with surprise at how she already knows parts of his heart.

He watches the car drive up the hill, Joe next to him until the dust on the road has settled. “They’ll be fine,” Joe says. He presses a kiss to Nicky’s cheek, then bumps their shoulders together. “At least the Palio isn’t for another couple of months, so she can’t get killed in the horse races,” Joe jokes. “Again.”

Nicky laughs, and for the next couple of hours, they reminisce about old adventures, lazing in the dappled shadow of the oak trees, soaking up the warmth and peace of Tuscan spring. In the evening, Joe reads to Nicky, Nicky’s head resting in his lap, letting Joe’s impassioned annotations and commentary wash over him.

Neither of them makes a move to turn the evening into something more. Sometimes it’s enough to be close, to take the time to be at peace together.

In the morning Nicky wakes up when Joe’s knees bump into him when he gets up, but Nicky just pats his butt and burrows back into the blankets. After two weeks in the Tuscan countryside, he feels safe enough to linger in bed alone.

When he finally gets out of bed, Joe gives him a kiss with his coffee, hands curving around Nicky’s jaw, scraping gently over his scruff. Warmth pools low in Nicky’s belly and he lets his own hand roam over Joe’s back, balancing his coffee precariously with his other hand.

“Morning,” Joe mumbles against his lips. He tastes like coffee and smells like soap and man, and his skin is still cool from his morning shower because Joe is a madman who prefers cold showers. After all, it’s the only way to wake him up right away. Nicky often argues that it’s the only thing that wakes Joe up, but that always ends up in morning blowjobs and Nicky has other ideas for today. He wants to take his time.

Nicky wants, but breakfast and coffee first.

Joe stays close, regaling him with a rundown of Nile’s texts, who’s blown away by the beauty of Pienza. Nicky likes seeing the city through her eyes when his own view of the are is colored by memories mostly, not all of them pleasant.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he tells Joe, once his coffee is finished. He can tell Joe wouldn’t be opposed to joining him, but he doesn’t press an invitation and simply lets Nicky go with a caress down his arm.

Nicky will always appreciate the luxury of a hot shower, but he doesn’t linger. Looking at himself in the steamed up mirror, his wet hair a little too long and his scruff of over a week becoming unruly, Nicky’s vague thoughts and desires become more firm. The warmth in his belly turns to heat in anticipation.

Dressed only in his briefs, he grabs his shaving kit – his straight razor is one of the few personal items he tries to keep with him when traveling – and makes his way back to the terrace, where Joe is drawing in the late morning sun.

“Beloved,” Nicky says softly, holding up the leather envelope. “Would you do me the pleasure?”

Joe smiles, eyes warm and immediately turning a little heated, and he puts away his pencils immediately. “Always,” he says softly. He hands Nicky his cup of coffee, then disappears inside with a fleeting caress to Nicky’s back.

Joe returns dressed only in briefs as well, with a towel slung over his shoulder. He carries over cushions, a bowl with warm water, more towels, and toiletries, including a brush and a collection of small bottles. When he’s gathered all the necessities – Nicky never takes this much care of himself, but Joe likes to spoil him – Joe sits down on the table, feet on the bench, knees spread with the cushions between his thighs.

“Come here, carino,” Joe invites him, voice soft and husky. Nicky slides between his legs, hands grabbing Joe’s thighs, forgetting about the shave for a moment, but filled with a need to kiss Joe that feels suddenly overwhelming. It’s languid and slow, deep kisses and soft kisses, mingled breaths and the taste of Joe on his lips.

“You know I rather like you with the beard, right,” Joe says when they part, as if Nicky still needs to be reassured of his attraction after almost a millennium. “I know,” Nicky says, diving in for another kiss. It takes a while for him to resurface and he has to catch his breath to be able to whisper, “I want to feel you against my skin.”

It’s all the explanation Joe needs, and he motions at Nicky to turn around and settle down upon the bench in front of the table. The moment Nicky is sitting down, Joe’s hands are on him, carding through his hair with his fingers, stroking down his neck and shoulders. He presses a kiss to the back of Nicky’s head, breathing him in for a moment. Nicky knows he’s thinking about the headshot at Merrick’s again, so he closes his eyes and enjoys the closeness while Joe reminds himself Nicky’s alive and well.

After a couple of breaths, Joe trails his fingers over the shell of Nicky’s ear, making Nicky shiver. Anticipation is rising with every single one of Joe’s touches, and he has to force himself to relax and not turn around and climb in Joe’s lap to devour him and be consumed in return. Blessings upon the patient and devout, and Nicky has both in spades when it comes to Joe.

Most of the time.

Gentle as always, Joe cradles Nicky’s head in his hands and guides him down, until he’s settled back with his head upon the cushions, one hand loosely wrapped around Joe’s ankle, stroking the bone. Joe strokes his cheekbones with his thumbs, and Nicky takes a couple of deep breaths, relaxing under his lover's hands. He’s safe and loved, and this moment belongs just to them.

Slowly, Joe trails his fingers over Nicky’s face, mapping the curve of his brows, the always present faint circles under his eyes. He draws the edges of Nicky’s beard, scratches softly under his jaw and circles the mole on Nicky’s cheek with a careful reverence until Nicky feels like he might drown in Joe’s effortless affection. With a soft sigh, he turns his head to press a kiss to Joe’s fingers and smush his whole face against the palm of his hand.

Above him, Joe hums and cards through Nicky’s hair with his other hand, stroking it back out of his face. It takes Nicky a couple of moments to recognize the cadence and tone, but once he does he can’t suppress his smile. “… your heart, the joy of the world,” Nicky finishes the stanza in Arabic, looking up at Joe.

“Still true,” Joe says. “I wrote it 300 years ago, and I still mean every verse.”

“327,” Nicky says with a grin. He reaches up to touch Joe’s lips, traces the corner of his smile. “You had ink stains on your fingers, and a little spot right here, and all I wanted to do was kiss it, until you started speaking and your words froze me on the spot.”

Joe’s cheeks darken slightly, and it never ceases to amaze Nicky how his beloved can have a heart filled with love and a soul filled with beauty, and can still be thrown by something as simple as Nicky’s appreciation. It’s one of the many and myriad facets Nicky loves about him, so he lets Joe distract him by lifting Nicky’s hand and kissing his fingers, and doesn’t comment further.

“Let me take care of you,” Joe says, and Nicky closes his eyes again, nodding. It’s easy to relax, the gentle sounds of Joe humming his poetry mixing with the clattering of water as Joe wets the towel. The warmth of the towel on his face only makes Nicky relax more, and for a couple of moments, he just drifts, safely sheltered by Joe’s body.

It’s a form of love, he thinks, giving himself over to his lover's capable hands.

When Joe takes away the towel, Nicky is hit with the scent of eucalyptus, and his stomach swoops at the familiar scent. “I love you,” Nicky mumbles, and almost gets a mouth full with lather for his sentiments.

Joe tsks at him and thoroughly covers Nicky’s face with soap, the brush gentle against his skin. It’s Proraso, Nicky’s favorite shaving soap for the past 50 years. Joe must have gotten it for him on his grocery run earlier in the week. The menthol prickles a little on his skin, the coolness of it contrasting with the warmth of the air and Nicky’s skin. It wakes him up, and the gentle strokes of the brush somehow make him tingle all over.

Affection and anticipation, Nicky thinks to himself, truly the most powerful of aphrodisiacs.

He’s pulled from his wandering thoughts by Joe dapping the brush against his nose, making Nicky curse and swipe at his nose, slapping Joe’s thigh with his other hand. “You know I hate that,” Nicky sputters, but Joe’s laughter is infectious as always and melts Nicky's brief annoyance away.

Nicky closes his eyes again. The familiar sounds of Joe stropping the razor fill the air, making a shiver run down his spine, the warm anticipation back once more. Joe gently tilts his face, presses the blade against his cheek, and carefully slides the blade over his skin, in short, even strokes, working his way from under his ear over his entire left cheek. Joe’s holding Nicky’s chin between his fingers, keeping his head steady, humming and vocalizing while he works. It’s a gentle hold, careful but steady, and it’s that hold that makes the very last remnants of unease leave his body. Nicky is cradled. Nicky is held. Nicky is safe.

Once his left cheek is done, Joe tilts up Nicky’s chin, pulling the skin of his neck taut. He’s even more careful here, taking the time for every stroke, gently angling Nicky’s face to give him better access. After every stroke of the blade, Joe trails a finger over the now naked skin, as if to check if he’s missed a spot. With every touch of his finger, Nicky’s skin comes alive, until his toes are tensing up with every slide of the blade, only to relax when Joe touches him skin on skin, his whole body thrumming with sensation.

When Nicky’s throat is bared completely, Joe doesn’t move to turn his face and shave his other cheek. Instead, his fingers linger on Nicky’s skin, and soon he can feel the dull side of the blade slide over his throat, following a familiar path.

There is no scar.

Nothing has left a permanent mark on his skin since the first time they killed each other. They’ve never needed the reminder, however. Nicky has lost count of how many times he’s died, but he still remembers everywhere he’d struck Joe in those first violent confrontations. Every cut and wound is imprinted on his eyelids, and he’s spent many hours kissing every memory off of Joe’s skin.

Joe’s thumb ends up at his pulse point, Nicky’s heart beating against his skin.

“I watched you bleed out,” Joe says on a whisper. It’s unclear if he means the first time he slit Nicky’s throat, or Nicky bleeding out after Keane’s headshot.

Nicky opens his eyes, grabs Joe’s fingers to kiss them, spreading shaving cream everywhere over his hand. “Beloved…” He doesn’t have any other words of comfort. Isn’t sure comfort is what Joe needs. All the violence, the hatred, the fury and rage… All the damage and violence they’ve endured. Everything they’ve put each other through when they were still righteous and sure of their respective place in the world… It all blends together. It’s all washed away by time and their shared history. Only the love between them remains, now.

Only love shall remain.

Joe is surely capable to read everything Nicky feels in his eyes, because he breathes out heavily, then curves his hand around Nicky’s throat again, even more gently than before. “Since you still trust me with your throat, I better finish the job.”

“I trust you with my heart, beloved.”

Joe just presses his thumb against Nicky’s pulse point and smiles softly at him, until Nicky closes his eyes again. Joe reapplies the soap on his face, and then the blade is pressed against Nicky’s skin. Nicky’s heart skips a beat, and it has nothing to do with fear or trust or danger. One slow stroke after another, Joe bares the rest of Nicky’s face, until Nicky can feel the breeze against his cheeks.

Joe tilts his head to the side again, until the top of Nicky’s head is resting against his thigh, and Nicky’s head is held perfectly still, between his leg and his forearm. Then, Joe pulls the skin next to his mouth taut, and carefully shaves around his mole, his upper lip and his chin.

“There, all done,” Joe murmurs. He uses the towel to wipe off the remnants of soap and hairs from Nicky’s face. Then he carefully applies some aftershave, smoothing it into Nicky’s skin with his fingers.

Nicky doesn’t open his eyes, not yet, but he can picture Joe perfectly. The little furrow in his brow he gets when he’s focused. The warmth in his eyes. The way the sun behind him will backlight him and paint a halo around his curly hair from Nicky’s vantage point.

“Are you sure you didn’t miss a spot,” Nicky asks, keeping his eyes closed.

Joe clucks his teeth at him. “Very sure,” he says, sliding his fingers over Nicky’s face, ending at his bottom lip, pressing his thumb against it. “It’s not the first time I wield a razor, you know.”

“I know,” Nicky murmurs. Joe must have shaved him hundreds of times over the centuries. “Just wanted to make sure…” He looks up at Joe, locking eyes with him. “I’m going to rub my face all over you, and I don’t want you to get beard burn.”

He can feel Joe’s thighs tense around him, can hear the faint catch of Joe’s breath. Neither of them blinks, both frozen in place.

Then, the anticipation that’s been simmering under Nicky’s skin since he woke up, crashes over him like a wave, and just like that, his whole body comes alive with arousal.

He’s not sure which of them moves first. Nicky twisting and kneeling on the bench, or Joe grabbing his arms and hauling him up, but they’re moving and touching and finally, finally they’re kissing. Joe’s breath is hot against his lips, his tongue thrusting into Nicky’s mouth while he leans back on the table, pulling Nicky with him. Joe’s beard is slightly prickly but mostly soft against his face and his lips are even softer and the catch in his breath is barely audible but it all heightens Nicky’s arousal. It feels like their first touch, their first kiss, the first time Nicky felt Joe against his skin without blood being shed.

He puts a knee on the table, slides a hand around Joe’s neck to deepen the kiss and somehow he ends up on top of Joe, straddling his thighs. Joe feels warm and steady under his hands, every curve of him familiar. With every kiss, Nicky’s desire rises, until he’s thrusting his cock against Joe’s, both of them hard and hot in their briefs.

Joe’s hand slips down under Nicky’s waistband and while that feels great and Joe should touch him everywhere, it’s not what Nicky wants right now. He tears himself away from Joe’s mouth with difficulty, panting while he tries to gain enough presence of mind to be able to form words again.

He curves his hand around Joe’s neck and lets the other slide down his chest. “I want to feel you against my face,” he says and presses Joe down against the table. Joe goes willingly, letting himself fall back and crossing his arms under his head, looking up at Nicky with a gleeful smile filled with expectation.

Anticipation.

Nicky ducks down to kiss Joe on the lips first, taking his time to properly explore all the nuances of his mouth. He cradles Joe’s face in his hands, burying his fingers in Joe’s beard until he’s sure Joe won’t move and let Nicky have his way with him. Then, with a final kiss to Joe’s lips, he moves down, nosing against Joe’s throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses everywhere. He likes the feeling of Joe’s beard against his lips, likes the feeling of it against his still sensitive and bare skin even more, and before he’s made the conscious decision, he’s rubbing himself against Joe’s cheeks and throat, until Joe lets out a sound halfway between a moan and a chuckle.

“Just let me,” Nicky murmurs. He doesn’t plead, even though his voice has turned soft and breathy, but it’s a close thing. Joe just nods and doesn’t move, except that he tilts up his chin, making himself more available for anything Nicky might want to do to him.

Nicky wants. The desire that’s been simmering on and off since he watched Joe rise from the pool yesterday has become almost overwhelming now, and seeing Joe spread out like this underneath him, all his to touch and please, is only stirring him on more.

With a soft curse, he leans down again, burying his face against Joe’s throat, kissing and mouthing his way over Joe’s skin, until he’s reached the spot under Joe’s ear that always makes him shiver. Joe doesn’t disappoint, sighing softly, and while he keeps his hands securely under his head, he wraps one leg around Nicky’s hips, pulling him closer.

Nicky answers by rolling his hips and pressing their cocks together, until Joe is pressing his cock up against him, his leg trembling where it’s wrapped around him. He grabs Joe’s thigh and shifts them both so neither of them is in danger of tumbling off the table, then he returns his attention to Joe’s throat. He follows the edge of his beard, shivering himself now when he can feel it against his cheek and eventually moves down to his collarbone.

He spends some time sucking bruises onto Joe’s skin. He likes the heat under his tongue when he sucks them to the surface, likes the way he can feel Joe’s heartbeat against his lips. He likes to see them disappear and know bone-deep that Joe is healing and alive.

He moves down further — he has plans, and while he’s taking the scenic route over Joe’s body, he’s not losing track of his goal — and rubs his face against Joe’s chest hair.

In comparison to Joe’s beard, the density is much lighter and the hair is softer too, so it almost tickles against his skin. A frisson runs down his spine, and Nicky feels like his cock might burst out of his briefs any second now. He licks at Joe’s sternum, then moves to his nipple, sucking it into his mouth until Joe is squirming and panting. When Nicky looks up, he’s satisfied to see Joe’s hands are no longer pressed under Joe’s head, but he’s grasping his own wrists, pressing them against the table above his head.

The sight of Joe, all flushed and breathless, holding himself back so Nicky can take his time, almost makes Nicky moan, his cock leaking precome, a wet stain growing in his briefs.

“Fuck,” Nicky curses, and twists Joe’s nipple, just to see him arch against his hold on himself. Their eyes meet, and Nicky knows what the heated look Joe throws him means.

If Joe reaches for him, Nicky wins.

Nicky does moan then, and his desire turns urgent. He moves back, until he’s kneeling on the bench, rather than on the table, sliding his hands over Joe’s chest and belly until he can grab Joe’s briefs and pull them off. Joe’s cock springs free, thick and dark with arousal, and Nicky’s mouth waters at the sight.

Still, he can’t resist building up both of their anticipation even more, so for now he ignores Joe’s cock. Instead, he buries his head in Joe’s groin for a moment, breathing in his scent, feeling the heat of him against his face. Joe’s pubes feel different against his skin too, not as thick as his beard, longer than his chest hair. Joe’s skin feels hot and a little sweaty, and the head of his cock is leaving wet smears against Nicky’s chin and throat.

He kisses and rubs himself all over Joe’s hips and groin, until Joe is squirming beneath him and his pants have turned into pleading moans. Joe is a man of words, but sometimes arousal turns him quiet. Nicky doesn’t mind, he has long ago learned the language of Joe’s body, the vocabulary of his movements, the meaning behind his breaths and moans.

Only when he can’t hold back anymore, he moves to Joe’s cock. He kisses the head, then slides his nose down the shaft, so he can press his face against Joe’s balls and suck them gently into his mouth. He grabs Joe’s thighs and pushes them up, spreading them open so he has better access.

Joe bumps his foot against Nicky’s back to spur him on, making Nicky grin. “Patience, habibi, patience.” He doesn’t let Joe wait much longer though, and eagerly takes him into his mouth, bobbing his head until his mouth is filled with the taste of Joe’s precome. He gets lost in it for a moment: the trembling of Joe’s muscles under his hands, the way Joe’s cock fills his mouth, the soft moans that keep spilling from Joe’s lips.

When he can hear Joe mumble something unintelligible, Nicky lets go of Joe’s cock. He doesn’t want him to come yet. He kisses Joe’s cock in apology, which makes Joe curse.

Nicky grins. Victory is close, he can tell.

He slides his hands under Joe’s ass, kneading his cheeks and pulling him closer and spreading his cheeks. He doesn’t waste time and licks over Joe’s hole, shivering when he can feel Joe’s skin and the soft hairs of his butt against his face. He starts with slow licks, making Joe nice and wet. When he pushes his tongue in, Joe’s thighs tense around his shoulders, and suddenly there’s a hand digging into his hair. Joe pulls at his hair and pushes him down simultaneously, and the feeling of it goes straight to Nicky’s cock.

Victory.

Victory is the heat of Joe against his tongue, the feeling of his fingers clutching at Nicky’s hair, and the desperate sounds that are filling his ears.

Nicky feasts. He licks and sucks and thrusts his tongue into Joe, pulling sound after sound from his lips, until Joe is cursing out his name in at least four languages, and his thighs are a vice around Nicky’s shoulders.

He thought he’d lick Joe open, get him hot and bothered and relaxed, stretch him on his fingers and tongue until Nicky could fuck him hard and slow and deep. But Joe is pulling at his hair and pleading, his hole fluttering against Nicky’s lips and Nicky knows Joe is close.

Nicky can be benevolent in victory.

He bites at the inside of Joe’s thigh, hard this time, enough for a bruise to bloom and melt away while Joe’s back arches off the table. Nicky licks at his hand, spreads Joe’s precome down his cock to make him even wetter, and then ducks between Joe’s legs again. He tries to time the thrusts of his tongue with the rhythm of his hand, and it only takes a couple for Joe to come, his whole body jerking with it.

Nicky can feel the wet heat of Joe’s fluttering hole against the bare skin of his face and when Joe lets out a satisfied little groan, the last remnants of Nicky’s restraint break. He climbs on top of Joe, on leg still on the bench, the other on the table. Joe clutches at him, welcoming him with open arms, but Nicky doesn’t have any coordination left. Joe’s come has spilled all over his lower belly, and it feels hot and wet against Nicky’s cock. Overcome at the feeling, Nicky hides his face in Joe’s armpit, breathing him in while he mindlessly ruts on top of Joe.

Joe pulls at his hair and it’s enough to pull Nicky over the threshold, his orgasm a sudden rush of pleasure, leaving him boneless on top of Joe.

Nicky drifts for a couple of moments, happy and dazed, completely sated and relaxed. It’s only when Joe starts to hum again, that Nicky finally lifts his head from Joe’s armpit.

Joe looks like a vision, flushed and a little sweaty, his whole face crinkly with satisfaction, like it only gets after a good bout of sex or after he’s finished a painting. He wipes Nicky’s hair out of his face with lazy affection, then trails a finger down to Nicky’s chin.

“I did fine work,” Joe says, his voice hoarse and a little self-satisfied.

Nicky splutters out a laugh. “I’m pretty sure I did all the work, since I just made you come on my tongue.”

“True,” Joe concedes, but the glint in his eyes says something else. “But the lack of beard burn is all me.”

Nicky laughs and ducks down to kiss Joe’s teasing mouth.

“Maybe we should move to somewhere softer,” Nicky suggests when they part. He strokes his fingers through Joe's beard and presses their groins a little closer, ignores the wet mess between them. “I think I would like to receive some beard burn of my own.”

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heartfeltheart · 5 years ago

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Number3Hero!Au: Burn Marks

Summary: The Fall of the Todoroki Family.

The day that things changed for the Todoroki Family, it was the day villains thought too much of themselves that they attacked the family right on their doorstep. No one was prepared for what happened that day and it is something that will stick with them for the rest of their lives…

What made the entire situation even worse was that Enji knew the attackers. They were a group of villains that did all their crimes on the plainest of days and always made sure they had an audience. They always called news stations, the paparazzi, and so on and so forth, all to get an audience. He never would of never give it a second thought they ever would attack his family in their home. Far as he knew, the attacks were occurring in another city far from his home and agency.

Enji and Rei did everything they could to protect their children, but that was proving to be more difficult as time went by. It was becoming evident that the main targets were the children and the villains had deeply planed this as their quirks were set to offset the couple’s own quirks.

Fuyumi was put in charge of taking care of her siblings by creating an ice shield. The shield only lasted for so long, the kids watched as their parents fight off the villains, but they could only do so much from the one bad guy that’s bashing against the ice shield. It took six hits before the shield shattered. At that moment, Fuyumi had taken hold of Shoto and ran off while her brothers run in different directions in hopes to get the villain away from the others.

Everyone watched in slow motion as the main villain grab hold of Natsuo and threw him across the small yard, causing the nine-year-old to slam against a tree. Then turning his attention to Fuyumi and Shoto. The enemy used his quirk send out a blast towards their direction, but in the last second, Fuyumi threw Shoto away to get him away from the attack, but this caused her to get the entire brunt of the attack. Fuyumi was thrown through the front door and all the way inside the house with a loud crash.

Toya felt rage fill within him, he wanted to help his family, but unlike his siblings and parents, he has no way of helping them. Far as he and anyone else knew, he’s quirkless. Despite this, Toya charged at the man that attacked his siblings with a loud roar when he saw the man go after his youngest brother. He wasn’t going to allow the villain to go after him. What happened next, no one would have ever foreseen it. If it weren’t for the news chopper up in the sky, broadcasting the scene before, no one would have believed Toya “Quirkless” Todoroki had blue flames erupting out of him towards the villain… and his brother.

It was at this point, Enji threw away his morals and aimed to kill those that dared hurt his family. He didn’t care that he has a large gash that is continuously bleeding out or how he knew that it was a matter of time before he falls. All he cared for is the safety of his family. When he saw Fuyumi’s ice shield had fallen and his children in massive danger, all morals were thrown out the window. His aim was set to kill, laws be damned. He barely had to glance over at Rei, to see her just in bad condition as himself, for the both of them to understand what they needed to do to save their family. They turned around just in time to see blue flames' envelope Toya before he charged towards the villain that torn down the ice shield and had put their sights on the youngest Todoroki.

Above in the sky, the newscaster, went into great detail with sheer terror could be clearly heard as they went over on what was happening down below. The villain that attacked the Todoroki children was sent aflame by the supposed Quirkless Todoroki. Terror turned into complete horror as Shoto Todoroki got caught up in the flames and three screams filled the air. No one was able to get close to the flames as it appeared to become unstable as it continued to grow.

It all came to an end to reveal one charred body, a whimpering five-year-old curled onto himself, and a still burning ten-year-old who is crying out for his parents in agony. Despite this, Toya crawled towards his brother and by the time he got there, he was no longer burning and held his brother close to himself. What neither boy saw, but their parents are, is a new villain had made the scene and is set to attack the boys.

Before harm could even occur to Toya and Shoto, the villain was impaled with one massive icicle that was followed by a barrage of hail that penetrated their skin. It was noted by the newscaster that Fuyumi and Natsuo had managed to get up to protect their brothers before passing out once more. By now, the newscaster cut of the live feed as at this point, Enji and Rei had set their sights to kill off the remaining villains.

By the end of this, the entire Todoroki Family were immediately rushed to the hospital. The location was placed under lockdown to ensure the safety of all the patients. Pro-heroes were stationed all throughout the area and even in the hospital to ensure no one came close to the family.

Enji was the only one in his family that came more or less came physically out alright compared to the rest of his family. He felt worthless for not being able to protect his family and primarily blaming himself for the entire event. That voice in the back of his mind, kept whispering to him that it was his fault for the entire event. How he should have just killed villains, consequences be damned. If it meant keeping his family coming out unscathed, Enji would have been more than happy give his life for them.

Rei, she herself had lacerations but used her quirk to freeze them before she could bleed out to death. Even when the doctors attempted to get to her to calm down to work on her injuries, Rei would not calm down until she knew her children were safe. They had to put her under before they could help her. Rei feels that if she had continued her work as a hero, or at least continued her rigorous training plan she followed while still being a pro-hero, there could have been a different outcome. Blaming herself for not being 100 percent for her family when they needed her the most.

Despite crashing through her home, leaving behind a wake of destruction… Fuyumi came out of that with a concussion, a skull fracture, a two broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder bone. The doctors explained the only thing that saved her was unknowingly activating her quirk at the very last minute. She had covered her entire body with ice, toughening her body to take on the impact without too many consequences.

She along with Natsuo, were both set up in an intensive temperature-controlled room as their bodies would recover faster in a colder environment.

Natsuo, for his own part, nearly suffered a heat stroke for being so close to Toya’s flames, concussion, nearly biting his on tongue off, and dealing with a broken elbow. Compared to everyone else in his family, he was far more sensitive to heat. It had gotten so bad, he had slipped into a temporary coma because of his brother’s usage of his quirk and the over use of his own quirk, it caused his body to over-work itself to that point.

Toya, due to using his quirk for the first time and it being unable to control it… it caused massive damage to his body. All throughout his body, it’s covered in severe buns that he had to be put into a medical induced coma to help him with the pain. However, before this could occur, he had accidentally activated his quirk again which caused more damaged to his himself.

Shoto, despite having burns around his upper left arm, the left side of his face that reached up just pass his hairline to midway to his cheek, came out unscathed compared to his siblings. The doctors made mention that despite the burns would heal, they will forever leave behind a permanent remainder of what occurred that day. Despite this, he should have a full recovery.

This event changed the Todoroki Family forever…

#Number Three Hero #NumberThreeHero!Au #Number3Hero!Au #BNHA #MHA #boko no hero academia #My Hero Academia #Todoroki Family #rei todoroki #fuyumi todoroki #toya todoroki #natsou todoroki #enji todoroki #todoroki shoto #todoroki enji good dad

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deniscollins · 5 years ago

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Finland Is a Capitalist Paradise

Finland’s capitalist growth and dynamism have been helped, not hurt, by the nation’s commitment to providing generous and universal public services that support basic human well-being, which have buffered and absorbed the risks and dislocations caused by capitalist innovation. In Finland, paying higher taxes is a convenient way for capitalists to outsource to the government the work of keeping workers healthy and educated. This liberates businesses to focus on what they do best: business. It’s convenient for everyone else, too. All Finnish residents, including manual laborers, legal immigrants, well-paid managers and wealthy families, benefit hugely from the same Finnish single-payer health care system and world-class public schools. Should the U.S. adopt the Finland’s version of capitalism: (1) Yes, (2) No?

Two years ago we were living in a pleasant neighborhood in Brooklyn. We were experienced professionals, enjoying a privileged life. We’d just had a baby. She was our first, and much wanted. We were United States citizens and our future as a family should have seemed bright. But we felt deeply insecure and anxious.

Our income was trickling in unreliably from temporary gigs as independent contractors. Our access to health insurance was a constant source of anxiety, as we scrambled year after year among private employer plans, exorbitant plans for freelancers, and complicated and expensive Obamacare plans. With a child, we’d soon face overwhelming day-care costs. Never mind the bankruptcy-sized bills for education ahead, whether for housing in a good public-school district or for private-school tuition. And then there’d be college. In other words, we suffered from the same stressors that are swamping more and more of Americans, even the relatively privileged.

As we contemplated all this, one of us, Anu, was offered a job back in her hometown: Helsinki, Finland.

Finland, of course, is one of those Nordic countries that we hear some Americans, including President Trump, describe as unsustainable and oppressive — “socialist nanny states.” As we considered settling there, we canvassed Trevor’s family — he was raised in Arlington, Va. — and our American friends. They didn’t seem to think we’d be moving to a Soviet-style autocracy. In fact, many of them encouraged us to go. Even a venture capitalist we knew in Silicon Valley who has three children sounded envious: “I’d move to Finland in a heartbeat.”

So we went.

We’ve now been living in Finland for more than a year. The difference between our lives here and in the States has been tremendous, but perhaps not in the way many Americans might imagine. What we’ve experienced is an increase in personal freedom. Our lives are just much more manageable. To be sure, our days are still full of challenges — raising a child, helping elderly parents, juggling the demands of daily logistics and work.

But in Finland, we are automatically covered, no matter what, by taxpayer-funded universal health care that equals the United States’ in quality (despite the misleading claims you hear to the contrary), all without piles of confusing paperwork or haggling over huge bills. Our child attends a fabulous, highly professional and ethnically diverse public day-care center that amazes us with its enrichment activities and professionalism. The price? About $300 a month — the maximum for public day care, because in Finland day-care fees are subsidized for all families.

And if we stay here, our daughter will be able to attend one of the world’s best K-12 education systems at no cost to us, regardless of the neighborhood we live in. College would also be tuition free. If we have another child, we will automatically get paid parental leave, funded largely through taxes, for nearly a year, which can be shared between parents. Annual paid vacations here of four, five or even six weeks are also the norm.

Compared with our life in the United States, this is fantastic. Nevertheless, to many people in America, the Finnish system may still conjure impressions of dysfunction and authoritarianism. Yet Finnish citizens report extraordinarily high levels of life satisfaction; the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development ranked them highest in the world, followed by Norwegians, Danes, Swiss and Icelanders. This year, the World Happiness Report also announced Finland to be the happiest country on earth, for the second year in a row.

But surely, many in the United States will conclude, Finnish citizens and businesses must be paying a steep price in lost freedoms, opportunity and wealth. Yes, Finland faces its own economic challenges, and Finns are notorious complainers whenever anything goes wrong. But under its current system, Finland has become one of the world’s wealthiest societies, and like the other Nordic countries, it is home to many hugely successful global companies.

In fact, a recent report by the chairman of market and investment strategy for J.P. Morgan Asset Management came to a surprising conclusion: The Nordic region is not only “just as business-friendly as the U.S.” but also better on key free-market indexes, including greater protection of private property, less impact on competition from government controls and more openness to trade and capital flows. According to the World Bank, doing business in Denmark and Norway is actually easier overall than it is in the United States.

Finland also has high levels of economic mobility across generations. A 2018 World Bank report revealed that children in Finland have a much better chance of escaping the economic class of their parents and pursuing their own success than do children in the United States.

Finally, and perhaps most shockingly, the nonpartisan watchdog group Freedom House has determined that citizens of Finland actually enjoy higher levels of personal and political freedom, and more secure political rights, than citizens of the United States.

What to make of all this? For starters, politicians in the United States might want to think twice about calling the Nordics “socialist.” From our perch, the term seems to have more currency on the other side of the Atlantic than it does here.

In the United States, Senator Bernie Sanders and Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez are often demonized as dangerous radicals. In Finland, many of their policy ideas would seem normal — and not particularly socialist.

When Mr. Sanders ran for president in 2016, what surprised our Finnish friends was that the United States, a country with so much wealth and successful capitalist enterprise, had not already set up some sort of universal public health care program and access to tuition-free college. Such programs tend to be seen by Nordic people as the bare basics required for any business-friendly nation to compete in the 21st century.

Even more peculiar is that in Finland, you don’t really see the kind of socialist movement that has been gaining popularity in some of the more radical fringes of the left in America, especially around goals such as curtailing free markets and even nationalizing the means of production. The irony is that if you championed socialism like this in Finland, you’d get few takers.

So what could explain this — the weird fact that actual socialism seems so much more popular in the capitalist United States than in supposedly socialist Finland?

A socialist revolution was attempted once in Finland. But that was more than a hundred years ago. Finland was in the process of industrializing when the Russian empire collapsed and Finland gained independence. Finnish urban and rural workers and tenant farmers, fed up with their miserable working conditions, rose up in rebellion. The response from Finland’s capitalists, conservative landowners and members of the middle and upper class was swift and violent. Civil war broke out and mass murder followed. After months of fighting, the capitalists and conservatives crushed the socialist uprising. More than 35,000 people lay dead. Traumatized and impoverished, Finns spent decades trying to recover and rebuild.

So what became of socialism in Finland after that? According to a prominent Finnish political historian, Pauli Kettunen of the University of Helsinki, after the civil war Finnish employers promoted the ideal of “an independent freeholder farmer and his individual will to work” and successfully used this idea of heroic individualism to weaken worker unions. Although socialists returned to playing a role in Finnish politics, during the first half of the 20th century, Finland prevented socialism from becoming a revolutionary force — and did so in a way that sounds downright American.

Finland fell into another bloody conflict as it fought off, at great cost, the Communist Soviet Union next door during World War II. After the war, worker unions gained strength, bringing back socialist sympathies as the country entered a more industrial and international era. This is when Finnish history took an unexpected turn.

Finnish employers had become painfully aware of the threats socialism continued to pose to capitalism. They also found themselves under increasing pressure from politicians representing the needs of workers. Wanting to avoid further conflicts, and to protect their private property and new industries, Finnish capitalists changed tactics. Instead of exploiting workers and trying to keep them down, after World War II, Finland’s capitalists cooperated with government to map out long-term strategies and discussed these plans with unions to get workers onboard.

More astonishingly, Finnish capitalists also realized that it would be in their own long-term interests to accept steep progressive tax hikes. The taxes would help pay for new government programs to keep workers healthy and productive — and this would build a more beneficial labor market. These programs became the universal taxpayer-funded services of Finland today, including public health care, public day care and education, paid parental leaves, unemployment insurance and the like.

If these moves by Finnish capitalists sound hard to imagine, it’s because people in the United States have been peddled a myth that universal government programs like these can’t coexist with profitable private-sector businesses and robust economic growth. As if to reinforce the impossibility of such synergies, last fall the Trump administration released a peculiar report arguing that “socialism” had negatively affected Nordic living standards.

However, a 2006 study by the Finnish researchers Markus Jantti, Juho Saari and Juhana Vartiainen demonstrates the opposite. First, throughout the 20th century Finland remained — and remains to this day — a country and an economy committed to markets, private businesses and capitalism.

Even more intriguing, these scholars demonstrate that Finland’s capitalist growth and dynamism have been helped, not hurt, by the nation’s commitment to providing generous and universal public services that support basic human well-being. These services have buffered and absorbed the risks and dislocations caused by capitalist innovation.

With Finland’s stable foundation for growth and disruption, its small but dynamic free-market economy has punched far above its weight. Some of the country’s most notable businesses have included the world’s largest mobile phone company, one of the world’s largest elevator manufacturers and two of the world’s most successful mobile gaming companies. Visit Finland today and it’s obvious that the much-heralded quality of life is taking place within a bustling economy of upscale shopping malls, fancy cars and internationally competitive private companies.

The other Nordic countries have been practicing this form of capitalism even longer than Finland, with even more success. As early as the 1930s, according to Pauli Kettunen, employers across the Nordic region watched the disaster of the Great Depression unfold. For enough of them the lesson was clear: The smart choice was to compromise and pursue the Nordic approach to capitalism.

The Nordic countries are all different from one another, and all have their faults, foibles, unique histories and civic disagreements. Contentious battles between strong unions and employers help keep the system in balance. Often it gets messy: Just this week, the Finnish prime minister resigned amid a labor dispute.

But the Nordic nations as a whole, including a majority of their business elites, have arrived at a simple formula: Capitalism works better if employees get paid decent wages and are supported by high-quality, democratically accountable public services that enable everyone to live healthy, dignified lives and to enjoy real equality of opportunity for themselves and their children. For us, that has meant an increase in our personal freedoms and our political rights — not the other way around.

Yes, this requires capitalists and corporations to pay fairer wages and more taxes than their American counterparts currently do. Nordic citizens generally pay more taxes, too. And yes, this might sound scandalous in the United States, where business leaders and economists perpetually warn that tax increases would slow growth and reduce incentives to invest.

Here’s the funny thing, though: Over the past 50 years, if you had invested in a basket of Nordic equities, you would have earned a higher annual real return than the American stock market during the same half-century, according to global equities data published by Credit Suisse.

Nordic capitalists are not dumb. They know that they will still earn very handsome financial returns even after paying their taxes. They keep enough of their profits to live in luxury, wield influence and acquire social status. There are several dozen Nordic billionaires. Nordic citizens are not dumb, either. If you’re a member of the robust middle class in Finland, you generally get a better overall deal for your combined taxes and personal expenditures, as well as higher-quality outcomes, than your American counterparts — and with far less hassle.

Why would the wealthy in Nordic countries go along with this? Some Nordic capitalists actually believe in equality of opportunity and recognize the value of a society that invests in all of its people. But there is a more prosaic reason, too: Paying taxes is a convenient way for capitalists to outsource to the government the work of keeping workers healthy and educated.

While companies in the United States struggle to administer health plans and to find workers who are sufficiently educated, Nordic societies have demanded that their governments provide high-quality public services for all citizens. This liberates businesses to focus on what they do best: business. It’s convenient for everyone else, too. All Finnish residents, including manual laborers, legal immigrants, well-paid managers and wealthy families, benefit hugely from the same Finnish single-payer health care system and world-class public schools.

There’s a big lesson here: When capitalists perceive government as a logistical ally rather than an ideological foe and when all citizens have a stake in high-quality public institutions, it’s amazing how well government can get things done.

Ultimately, when we mislabel what goes on in Nordic nations as socialism, we blind ourselves to what the Nordic region really is: a laboratory where capitalists invest in long-term stability and human flourishing while maintaining healthy profits.

Capitalists in the United States have taken a different path. They’ve slashed taxes, weakened government, crushed unions and privatized essential services in the pursuit of excess profits. All of this leaves workers painfully vulnerable to capitalism’s dynamic disruptions. Even well-positioned Americans now struggle under debilitating pressures, and a majority inhabit a treacherous Wild West where poverty, homelessness, medical bankruptcy, addiction and incarceration can be just a bit of bad luck away. Americans are told that this is freedom and that it is the most heroic way to live. It’s the same message Finns were fed a century ago.

But is this approach the most effective or even the most profitable way for capitalists in the United States to do business? It should come as no surprise that resentment and fear have become rampant in the United States, and that President Trump got elected on a promise to turn the clock backward on globalization. Nor is it surprising that American workers are fighting back; the number of workers involved in strikes last year in the United States was the highest since the 1980s, and this year’s General Motors strike was the company’s longest in nearly 50 years. Nor should it surprise anyone that fully half of the rising generation of Americans, aged 18 to 29, according to Gallup polling, have a positive view of socialism.

The prospect of a future full of socialists seems finally to be getting the attention of some American business leaders. For years the venture capitalist Nick Hanauer has been warning his “fellow zillionaires” that “the pitchforks are coming for us.” Warren Buffett has been calling for higher taxes on the rich, and this year the hedge-fund billionaire Ray Dalio admitted that “capitalism basically is not working for the majority of people.” Peter Georgescu, chairman emeritus of Young & Rubicam, has put it perhaps most succinctly: He sees capitalism “slowly committing suicide.”In recent months such concerns have spread throughout the capitalist establishment. The Financial Times rocked its business-friendly readership with a high-profile series admitting that capitalism has indeed become “rigged” and that it desperately needs a “reset,” to restore truly free markets and bring back real opportunity. Leading captains of finance and industry in the United States rocked the business world, too, with a joint declaration from the Business Roundtable that they will now prioritize not only profits but also “employees, customers, shareholders and the communities.” They are calling this “stakeholder capitalism.”

If these titans of industry are serious about finding a more sustainable approach, there’s no need to reinvent the wheel. They can simply consult their Nordic counterparts. If they do, they might realize that the success of Nordic capitalism is not due to businesses doing more to help communities. In a way, it’s the opposite: Nordic capitalists do less. What Nordic businesses do is focus on business — including good-faith negotiations with their unions — while letting citizens vote for politicians who use government to deliver a set of robust universal public services.

This, in fact, may be closer to what a majority of people in the United States actually want, at least according to a poll released by the Pew Research Center this year. Respondents said that the American government should spend more on health care and education, for example, to improve the quality of life for future generations.

But the poll also revealed that Americans feel deeply pessimistic about the nation’s future and fear that worse political conflict is coming. Some military analysts and historians agree and put the odds of a civil war breaking out in the United States frighteningly high.

Right now might be an opportune moment for American capitalists to pause and ask themselves what kind of long-term cost-benefit calculation makes the most sense. Business leaders focused on the long game could do a lot worse than starting with a fact-finding trip to Finland.

Here in Helsinki, our family is facing our second Nordic winter and the notorious darkness it brings. Our Finnish friends keep asking how we handled the first one and whether we can survive another. Our answer is always the same. As we push our 2-year-old daughter in her stroller through the dismal, icy streets to her wonderful, affordable day-care center or to our friendly, professional and completely free pediatric health center, before heading to work in an innovative economy where a vast majority of people have a decent quality of life, the winter doesn’t matter one bit. It can actually make you happy.

#Finland

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cookieswriting · 6 years ago

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Can’t Be Happening Pt. 3 (SEAL Team)

((Can I just say how much I HATE Ash Spenser right now? How much do we want to bet he implied that it was Clay that told him about the op intentionally, knowing full well saying a Seal that was there would make the brass believe he was talking about his son? Can only imagine how much trouble this is going to bring up for Clay. Grr.))

The sight of the man she loved, chained from the ceiling and barely able to hold himself upright with blood coating his temple and right side, left Stella breathless. Even still, she knew that he needed her in that moment, so she steeled herself and stepped up until she was directly in front of him. Her trembling hand reached up to cradle the ‘clean’ side of his face. “You know the guys would never leave you behind. They’ll come for you soon, baby...you’ve just got to hold on a little bit longer, okay?” Tears filled her eyes, slid down her cheeks. “Stay with me. I’m right here.” She willed Clay to look up at her, to meet her eyes and let her know that he heard her. As he leaned his head into her hand, though, agony twisted his handsome features-

Stella jerked awake with a gasping breath, fresh tears spilling over her lashes. The dream had been so real...it had felt as though Clay’s too-warm skin was actually under her hand, smelled like the metallic blood that seemed to be staining his white t-shirt red too quickly. Just as had happened when she watched his abuse on the screen at the bar, Stella’s stomach rebelled at the thought that this might be even close to reality for Clay and left her rushing for the bathroom.

Once she’d emptied the (meager) contents of her stomach and brushed her teeth, Stella glanced at her Fitbit to see that it was past 3am, and she knew here was no way she’d be getting back to sleep after that horror show of a nightmare. Instead, she padded quietly into the living room, torn between relief and despair when she saw the light on and Naima nursing her son. The older woman looked up at Stella’s approach. The sad smile on her face let Stella know she’d heard her retching.

“Would you like something to settle your stomach?” Stella shook her head silently as she curled up in the corner of the couch, holding herself protectively. “I’m a bit surprised it took til the second night for you to have a nightmare. Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

Grateful that Naima gave her time to collect her thoughts, didn’t comment on the seemingly unending silent tears, Stella knew that she needed to start leaning into the support of this woman and the other wives if she hoped to truly become part of the family. “I, uh...I had a dream about...about C-Clay being held captive.” She stared at the sleeves of her sweater, pulled over her fingers out of nerves. “It just...it felt like it was real. It felt like I was standing right in front of him, begging him to hold on til the guys found him.” Stella’s breath hiccuped as she tried to keep herself calm. The last thing she wanted was to upset the baby when Naima had been kind enough to take care of her the last two days since Clay had been taken. “He was suffering so much, and there was nothing that I could do to make it any better.” She looked up, desperate for comfort. “How do you handle this?”

The Kurdish woman looked pained for a moment. “This...being the fact that Clay has been taken hostage?” She nuzzled her infant, tears filling her own eyes. “This situation is rare, by the grace of God. We haven’t dealt with this before now. Injuries, separations, death...but never having one of the team become subject of a terrorist’s ransom message. I don’t know how to handle this kind of uncertainty, but I know that the worst thing would be for you to be alone through this.”

“I don’t deserve to be helped like this…I sent him out there heartbroken…”

“Don’t go there, Stella,” Naima insisted firmly. She gestured for the younger woman to wait, and disappeared to settle her son into his crib. When she returned, she settled onto the couch alongside Stella. “The men haven’t been allowed to contact us since the video...we don’t know what happened when he was taken. You can’t take that responsibility on your shoulders. Especially having decided to commit to this life...you have to accept that there will be risks, that sometimes we will get into arguments and they will leave on less than ideal terms...but they are the best for a reason. They are trained for this under any circumstance.” Her hand settled on Stella’s shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. “You tried to reach him, tried to tell him. And if I know our boys, which I do pretty damn well, you’ll get the chance to tell him soon enough. In the meantime...if you need to cry, you let yourself cry. If you need to get out of the house, let me know and I can either set up some time with the other wives, get a babysitter, or we can go out with the kids. But don’t give up faith that Clay will come home.”

Finally releasing the tenuous hold that she had on her emotions, Stella threw her arms around Naima’s neck and allowed herself to sob and accept the comfort offered by the older woman.

Bravo Team hadn’t been sure of what to expect when they finally breached the room where Doza’s men were holding Clay, and when Sonny laid eyes on the younger man, he had all the drive he needed to take out any hostile that came across his scope. It didn’t take long for the team to wipe out everyone except for their injured teammate: hanging from the ceiling, shackled, covered in blood and bruises, head drooped against his chest.

Sonny rushed forward, heart in his throat until he tore off his glove with his teeth and felt a faint pulse under his fingers. He took hold of the blonde’s dirty face, desperate for any sign of consciousness. Fluttering eyelids gave the Texan hope. “Hey, we’ve got you, brother, just hold on a little bit longer.” He leaned back enough to take in the growing bloodstain on his shirt, looked up to meet Trent’s gaze. Grim worry stared back, and the unspoken directive was clear. “We’re gonna get you home...but we’ve gotta take you down first. It’s going to hurt, brother, but we’re here, lean on us as much as you’ve gotta.”

“So-Sonny…” Clay’s weak voice barely made it past his lips, but Sonny listened as if it were the only sound in the room. “Please...don’t let Stella...blame herself.” Was the kid delusional? Why would Stella blame herself?

“We need to get him down, we can figure the rest out later,” Ray murmured. “HAVOC this is Bravo Two. Bravo Six has been located and hostiles eliminated. I repeat, we have Bravo Six...but he’s in bad shape. Have a medical team waiting at the helipad when we get back.” Blackburn gave a concise response, but none of them paid him mind. Ray and Jason situated themselves on either side of the wounded SEAL, Brock stepped up behind him with bolt cutters, and they all nodded. Trent slid around Brock to support Clay from behind, but none of them were expecting the agonized cry and for him to drop like dead weight as soon as his feet were planted on the ground.

“Sonny, Brock get the litter ready,” Trent commanded. As soon as it was laid out, he gestured for the team leaders to lay their youngest out on it, and began assessing Clay. “He’s still alive, but we need to get him the hell out of here if we want him to stay that way.” Bravo Four lifted the hem of Clay’s shirt, and hissed sympathetically. “No wonder he’s leaking so bad...looks like they stuck him with a serrated blade. This wound is a shredded mess.” He applied a pressure bandage and grabbed Sonny’s hand to keep it in place as the medic moved down to his left leg. “Broken. I need to brace it. He’s also got a dislocated shoulder, same side...dammit!” He looked up to Jason. “Hold him down while I fix the dislocation?” Bravo One nodded solemnly, and Sonny found himself grateful that Clay was unconscious for all of this. The crack made all of them wince, and Sonny held his breath when the kid twitched, head lolling to the side.

“Stella…” he breathed before falling silent once more. Ray glanced up at Trent as the medic made quick work of the temporary splint from his kit.

“Okay, let’s move, we need to get to exfil yesterday,” Jason instructed as soon as Trent moved back. Sonny, Trent, Brock and Ray each took hold of the litter, and Bravo One provided cover until they made it to the waiting helicopter. The four carrying Clay eased him into the chopper, and startled when the previously-unconscious man lashed out with his unbroken leg and what probably would have qualified as a war cry if he’d been any stronger. “Easy!” Jason barked, jumping up into the Blackhawk behind Brock to press Clay’s shoulders down. “Stand down, Spenser, you’re safe.”

Blue eyes stared up at the team leader, and Sonny found himself creeped out by the lack of recognition in his gaze...as though he were staring through Jason rather than at him. “Just a grad student, man…”

Jason knelt forward and held Clay’s face in both of his hands, jostling him just enough for the younger man to finally blink up at him with clear - albeit agonized - eyes. “Hey, kid, you with me?” A weak nod. “I know you’re hurting, brother, but we’ve got you. Try to relax so Trent can get as much done as he can while we’re airborne.” As soon as Clay stilled, the medic jumped up, followed by the rest of the team, and the pilot took off smoothly.

Sonny watched Trent work, swapping out saturated bandages and quickly applying new ones and periodically checking vitals. The increasingly grim look on the medic’s face left a hollow pit in the Texan’s stomach; the team had taken a hit when they’d lost Nate, but somehow this felt so much worse. Clay, in spite of the butting heads at the beginning, had thoroughly ingrained himself as an invaluable member of the team. He’d settled into his position as the ‘Rookie’, the ‘kid’...kid brother maybe, Sonny lamented to himself as his eyes shifted to the younger man’s face. The blood and bruises did little to make him seem older, and the familiar protective rage started to rise up all over again.

“HAVOC this is Bravo One, we made it to exfil and are Oscar Mike. Be ready, he’s losing a lot of blood.”

“Copy Bravo One, you guys just keep him breathing til you get here, docs’ll take care of the rest.” The forced confidence in Blackburn’s voice made Sonny’s skin crawl, but he knew that nothing their Commander said would’ve been enough. Nothing would be until they were able to stabilize Clay.

The rest of the flight was silent, each of the team members either lost in their own thoughts or busy fighting to keep their brother alive. The runners of the Blackhawk had barely touched down before they jumped out and cleared the way for the team of medics, ready and waiting as promised with a stretcher. The Mexican team took over for them seamlessly, calling for Trent to follow to provide information. The rest of Bravo lingered by the chopper, shock settling over them in the absence of active purpose. A hand landed heavily on Sonny’s shoulder, and he turned to see Brock, pale and drawn, eyes still following the flurry of movement heading towards the medical wing’s doors.

“Come, I will show you where you can get cleaned up and wait for news,” General Garcia called, face sympathetic and patient as they slowly turned to face him. Blackburn, Mandy and Lisa hovered behind him, the women visibly distraught; Sonny imagined their collective stupor did nothing to ease their worry, let alone the blood that he was sure coated his own uniform as well as some of the others. “We will treat him as one of our own.” Blackburn nodded his gratitude as Bravo team finally started moving, dutifully following the Mexican Marine leader. Dammit, Clay, don’t you dare go out like this...

#SEAL team fanfic #clay spenser whump #stella baxter #clay spenser

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alltheoutsnfree · 6 years ago

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Decided since my artblock is killing me, I’d write a quick bit of fanfiction instead. This is heavily based on @vsemily‘s TSE Charlie and how she’s self aware, especially on this picture by the same name here, though it’s set in my own AU. (Yes I know, this Alex character seems like such a mega self-insert but honestly it happened the other way round, no I don’t know how)

Bimonthly Maintenance

Charlie’s eyes were suddenly blinded. She squinted, waiting for the realization of where she was to arrive. Slowly she could make out a white ceiling fan blending in with the white ceiling. A sunbeam from a nearby window landed squarely on her face and brightened the pale blue wall next to her. She sat up and threw off her sheets before standing up and glancing around the room. Alex wasn’t in their bed, which was neatly made, and presumably downstairs making breakfast. The smell of eggs wafting from behind the bedroom door confirmed Charlie’s suspicions.

She carefully stepped over the piles of spare parts and made her way across her side of the room, until she could walk across Alex’s side without fear of the pain that came with stepping on sharp metal while barefoot. Charlie didn’t bother changing out of her sweatpants and shirt, there was no real point doing so on a Saturday. After walking down the carpeted staircase, she found Alex in the kitchen making scrambled eggs while humming to a Suzanne Vega song. Charlie walked past them to grab three plates for the table.

“Aunt Jen’s at work,” Alex commented, gesturing at the third plate Charlie held. “Something about the mayor being caught taking bribes.” Charlie snorted, and put a plate back in the cabinet. The mayor had always been more or less shady, and she was used to her aunt’s odd work hours as an editor of The Hurricane Standard newspaper.

“So we’ll be on our own today?” Charlie asked, a bitter metallic taste suddenly emanating from the back of her mouth. Probably another issue to be addressed, she thought.

“Yeah,” Alex answered quietly. “Aunt Jen gave me the whole spiel about what I’m supposed to be doing, of course.”

Charlie let out a deep sigh. She wasn’t entirely sure what to say, was still afraid enough after fourteen years to keep her statements on this subject oblique. She and Alex had always been conditioned by their father to not mention anything about it ever, even when it was just the three of them in the privacy of their own home. When the two of them had moved in with their aunt there was an unspoken truth that their late father’s rule still applied.

Alex scooped eggs onto their plates and sat down. The two teens were silent, lost in their own anxieties of what was to follow breakfast. Charlie had long last track of how many times she’d been through this, but she still felt the same unease she always did. After Aunt Jen took over, the unease got worse because somehow her aunt knew about what the family called Charlie’s “condition.” Over the years she assumed her father had left a final note to tell her, but she didn’t dare ask. And now she had to go through this with Alex working instead of her aunt for the first time. Charlie had no problem sensing her twin’s own fear from across the table.

After what felt like an eternity to both of them, they made eye contact. “Are you ready?” Alex asked hoarsely. Charlie opted to swallow air instead of answering. “You don’t have to do this now, you know. We can wait till Aunt Jen gets back and-”

“No,” Charlie cut them off. “We need to learn how to get through this. Together.”

Alex nodded slowly. “Okay then. Might as well get started.”

Charlie stood in the basement, surrounded by workbenches, parts, and electronics; her back to a cushioned board. Alex secured two straps around each of her shoulders and Alex saw their hands trembling. “It’s okay, I trust you,” she told them as reassuringly as she could.

Slowly their eyes raised to gaze into hers. “Does it hurt?” they asked.

“No. It’s just…” Charlie struggled to put it in understandable terms. “...very tingly.”

Alex stepped back. “Okay, diagnostics first.” They reached for the end of a cable connected to a nearby computer terminal and carefully brushed a hidden mechanism on the right side of Charlie’s forehead. A tiny hatch popped open, revealing a port that Alex plugged the cable into. The terminal suddenly whirred and clicked to life as it displayed a loading bar. Sitting down, they waited patiently until the software booted up to quickly enter a series of commands. Numbers and status bars flashed dizzyingly as they appeared on screen, each listing the input and outputs of various centers in Charlie’s mechanical body.

“How many issues?” She asked. There were at least a few that she had noticed on her own since the last time, but she suspected there were more.

“Four,” Alex answered. “Dislocated component in right arm, malfunction in oil supply pump, leg motors on the brink of burning out, and slight fraying of the cables to the right hand fingers. A little extra work than usual but nothing too difficult.”

“Good. Oil pump’s probably up first right?” Charlie shifted herself slightly, preparing for the temporary disconnection of most of her limbs.

“Yeah. I’ll take care of the motors while I’m at it.” Alex walked back over and ever so gently disconnected the mechanisms that held her legs in place. Charlie watched them carry the two appendages to the workbench and gather the tools and parts necessary for the repairs. She watched idly as the two motors were removed and then replaced, watched as the correct wires were soldered together, watched her oil supply pump getting unclogged.

Twenty eight minutes and twelve seconds later, according to her internal clock, Alex pushed the legs aside and detached Charlie’s right arm. She watched again, having nothing else to pass the time, while Alex opened a concealed section on the arm and snap something back in place inside. She kept watching, the monotony and tension weighing more on her than the straps that held her torso up. So she focused on the movements in Alex’s hands as they wound thin tape carefully around the damaged wires in the fingers.

Finally Alex reconnected all of their sister’s limbs. “Try moving,” they said, and Charlie did, immediately feeling the difference in her legs and arm.

“That’s definitely better,” she told them, a hint of a smile twitching at her lips.

Alex did smile a little. “That’s great. I’ll just recheck the diagnostics to make sure,” they said, a note of relief fading into their voice. After a quick glance at the terminal they gave a thumbs up and a grin to Charlie before undoing her straps and allowing her to stretch.

“That was good,” Charlie told them. “I don’t know, it didn’t seem as smooth as when Aunt Jen does it,” Alex confessed.

“Yeah, because she’s had years of practice,” she retorted with a scoff. “Besides, you stepped in to help even though you didn’t have to, and even though you were worried about it. And that… that means a lot, obviously.” This time she felt awkward, and wasn’t entirely sure if her point had come across.

Alex was silent for a moment before taking a deep breath. “Well, now that that’s taken care of, we better clean up breakfast before Aunt Jen gets back, all tired from running around writing,”

“Yeah,” Charlie said with a grin. “Heaven forbid that house isn’t completely clean when the next town scandal is uncovered. Laughing, the two went upstairs, leaving behind their tension in the basement.

#charlie tse #ai self awareness #fanfiction #yeah i went a bit ham writing this

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the-penandpaper · 6 years ago

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Marc Lamont Hill’s Full Speech for a Free Palestine

November 28, 2018 @ the UN. The next day he was fired from CNN

Full video

Mr Secretary- General, chairman, ambassadors and your excellencies.

Good afternoon. It is with great honor and humility that I accept the opportunity to speak before you as a scholar, as an activist and as a citizen, I am profoundly interested in the plight of the Palestinian people. As well as the broader ethical, moral, and political implications of their struggle for freedom and justice as well as equality. As such this annual convening represents a critical intervention, it also represents a site of possibility. On the other hand, it shows considerable irony. As well know this year marks the 70th anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. This declaration is produced out of the rubble and contradictions of World War 2 and it was intended to offer a clear ethical and moral outline of the basic rights and freedoms to which all human beings, irrespective race, religion, class, gender, or geography are entitled. This declaration of course has been far from perfect both in design and in execution. Too often we have framed human rights through the lens of the west we've viewed through the gaze of colonialism and we have assessed them to through the limited prism of our own experiences. Simply put, the powerful have too often attempted to universalize their own particular and local values. Still the Universal Declaration of Human Rights has offered us a flawed but functional starting point from which to articulate basic moral and ethical ambitions as global citizens. These ambitions have been particularly helpful when attempting to keep track of the vulnerable against the back drop of imperialism, exploitative economic arrangements, white supremacy, patriarchy and all the other entanglements of the modern nation-state. For this reason, it is indeed ironic and sad that this year also marks the 70th anniversary of the Nakba. The great catastrophe in May 1948 that resulted in the expulsion, murder and to date permanent dislocation of more than a million Palestinians. For every minute that the global community has articulated a clear and lucid framework for human rights, the Palestinian people have been deprived of the most fundamental of them. While the universal declaration for human rights says that all people are “born free and equal in dignity and rights” the Israeli nation state continues to restrict freedom and undermine equality for Palestinian citizens in Israel as well as those in the West Bank in Gaza. At the current moment there are more than 60 Israel laws that deny Palestinian access to full citizenship rights. Simply because they're not Jewish. From housing to education to family reunification, it is clear that any freedoms naturally endowed to all human beings are actively being stripped away from Palestinians through Israeli statecraft. While human rights promises the right to life, liberty and security of person. Palestinians continue to live under the threat of random violence by Israeli military and police. Disproportionate violence within the West Bank in Gaza, unprompted violence in the face of peaceful protests and misdirected violence by an Israeli state that systematically fails to distinguish between civilians and combatants. While the Universal Declaration for Human Rights protects us against torture and cruel and inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment, Palestinians continue to be physically and psychologically tortured by the Israeli criminal justice system, a term I can only use with irony. As human rights groups around the world have noted, the use of solitary confinement constitutes a clear and indisputable form of torture. Yet, in the West Bank, Palestinians are routinely subjected to solitary confinement and indefinite detention. Often with out and formal charges being filed. Last year, the Israeli Supreme Court ruled that physical torture in “exceptional cases” including ticking time bomb situations constitute acceptable means by which to engage in torture. Although these exceptions are themselves a violation of the absolute human right not to be tortured, Israeli security operates and practice in such a way that nearly all Palestinian cases are viewed as exceptional. Nearly every Palestinian is understood to be a potential terrorist. Thereby making them susceptible to ticking time bomb investigation tactics at all times. As such, Israel's practices are routinely in clear violation of the UN's Convention on torture which was signed by Israel in 1986 and ratified in 1991. While the Declaration of Human Rights insists that no one be subjected to arbitrary arrests, detention or exile, Palestinians are routinely denied due process of law. West Bank Palestinians are regularly placed under administrative a framework that allows them to be incarcerated for up to six months and can be extended after a judicial review without being charged with a crime. The only thing needed for such outcomes is the ambiguous claim of a security threat. A claim used by the Israeli state at all times, at all costs and for all reasons. Through this vagueness Palestinians are routinely punished for their political views rather than any actual threat of violence. The declaration of human rights insists that all humans are entitled to a “fair and public hearing by an impartial tribunal. Israeli military courts, the exclusive adjudicator largely, for West Bank residents and in some cases Palestinian citizens of Israel. They have a conviction rate of more than 99%. That suggests that Palestinians are either more guilty than any other group in human history or that the Israeli government is unwilling or incapable of offering fair and impartial trials for Palestinians. Declaration of human rights promises the right to freedom of movement and residence within the borders of each state as well as the right to leave any country including his *own and to return to said country. It is impossible to travel throughout the historic Palestine and not see the blatant restriction of movement between cities in the occupied Palestinian territories as well as inside the state of Israel. Standing check points, temporary of flying checkpoints, annexation walls and other security barriers, prevent Palestinians from moving freely both within areas legally designated by the Israeli government and co-signed by the Palestinian Authority under the terms of Oslo but also we see in Gaza the restriction of movement that is so severe that it literally defines life in the area. I promise you that I will not exhaust all my time by enumerated every human rights violation perpetrated by the Israeli government. These are well known and have been well documented by every credible human rights organization in the world. Rather I would like to speak to you about the urgency of the current moment.

{sips water}Forgive my thirst, I literally just got off of a flight from Palestine to come to address you this morning and I was boycotting the Israeli water so I was unable to quench my thirst. But thank you for your indulgence or for indulging me rather.

As we speak, the conditions on the ground for Palestinian people are worsening. In recent decades, the Israeli government has moved further and further to the right. Normalizing settler colonialism and its accompanying logics of denial, destruction, displacement and death. Despite international condemnation, settlement expansion has continued. At the same time, home demolitions and state enforced displacement continues to uproot Palestinian communities. For Gazans, the 11 year Israeli and Egyptian blockade by land air and sea, has created the largest open air prison in the world. With only 4% potable water, electricity access that is limited to 4 hours per day,50% unemployment and the the looming threat of Israeli bombs, Gaza continues to constitute one of the most pressing humanitarian crisis of the current moment. And the West Bank conditions are not much better, unemployment is generally around 18% with frequent loss of income due to Israeli military closures. Making it impossible for Palestinian workers to get access to jobs, settlements and extra land allocated for them as well as closed military zones and other restrictions make it impossible for Palestinian towns to grow. And in the mists of it all, Prime Minister Netanyahu's administration has become increasingly indifferent to critique censure or even scorn from the international community for its practices. Perhaps the most glaring example of this indifference as well as the urgency of the current moment is the recently passed nation state law. Through this basic law of the Israeli state has officially rejected Arabic as an official state language. It has described settlement expansion both inside and outside of the green line as a national value and it has reinforced the fact that Israel is not a state of all of its citizens. As an American, I am embarrassed that my tax dollars contribute to this reality. I am frustrated that no American president since the start of the occupation has taken a principled and actionable position in defense of Palestinian rights. And I am saddened, though not surprised, that president trump's administration has further embolden Israel's behavior through it's recent actions. In May of this year President trump officially moved the US Embassy to Jerusalem which he recognized as the undivided capital of Israel. This choice not only flew in the face of international law and precedent but also constituted a powerful provocation and a diplomatic death blow. In late August, President trump then permanently reneged on America's commitment to funding UNRWA. A move that now leaves millions of Palestinian refugees in medical, economic and educational peril. Moreover, the move serves as a political strong arm tactic whereby the United States is unilaterally attempting to resolve through the trump administration, the final status of Palestinian refugees. While president trumps policies have been the most dramatic. It is important that I stress to you, to reiterate to you, that they are not wildly out of step with American policy. Cuts to UNRWA, is an idea that has been raised in Washington for years, dating back at least to the George W Bush administration. President's trump's decision to move the US embassy in Israel from Tel Aviv to Jersusalem caused enormous controversy but he was merely implementing a bipartisan law congress passed in 1995. And in so doing, executed what has already been official United States policy and the fulfillment of a promise made by every president and presidential candidate, Democrat and Republican for a very long time. With regard to the question of Palestine, donald trump is not an exception to american policy. Rather, donald trump is more transparent and aggressive iteration of it. As I mentioned at the beginning of my remarks, the words offered today by everyone in this room, are a necessary component of our resistance efforts. We need powerful, counter-intuitive, dangerous and courageous words. But we must also offer more than just words. Will not stop the village with its make shift schools created local Bedouin villagers. Words will not stop them from being demolished in violation of the fourth Geneva conventions. Words will not stop poets like Dareen Tatour from being caged in Israeli jails. For having the audacity to speak the truth about the conditions of struggle on her own personal facebook page. Words will not stop peaceful protesters in Gaza from being killed as they fight for freedom against Israel still undeclared borders. Regarding the question of Palestine, beyond words we must ask the question what does justice require? To truly engage in acts of solidarity, we must make our words flesh. Our solidarity must be more than a noun. Our solidarity must be more become a verb. As a Black American, my understanding of action and solidarity action is rooted in our own tradition of struggle. As Black American resisted slavery, as well as Jim Crow laws that transformed us from a slave state to an apartheid state; we did so through multiple tactics and strategies. It is this array of tactics that I appeal to as I advocate for concrete action from all of us in this room. Solidarity from the international community, demands that we embrace boycotts, divestment and sanctions as a critical means by which to hold Israel accountable for its treatment of Palestinian people. This movement which emerges our of the overwhelming majority of Palestinian civil society offers a non-violent means by which to demand a return to the pre '67 borders full rights for Palestinian citizens and the right of return as dictated by international law. Solidarity demands that we no longer allow politicians or political parties to remain silent on the question of Palestine. We can no longer, in particular, allow the political left to remain radical or even progressive on every issue from the environment, to war, to the economy, to remain progressive on every issue except for Palestine. Contrary to Western mythology, Black resistance to American apartheid did not come purely through Gandhi and non-violence. Rather slave revolts and self defense and tactics, otherwise divergent from Dr. King or Gandhi, were equally important to preserving safety and attaining freedom. We must allow, if we are to operate in true solidarity to Palestinian people, we must allow the Palestinian people the same range of opportunity and political possibility. If we are standing in solidarity with Palestinian people, we must recognize the right of an occupied people to defend itself. We must prioritize peace but we must not romanticize of fetishize it. We must advocate and promote non-violence at every opportunity but we can not endorse a narrow politics of respectability that shames Palestinians for resisting. For refusing to do nothing in the face of state violence and ethnic cleansing.

At the current moment, there is little reason for optimism. Optimism of course is the belief that good will inevitably prevail over evil, that justice will inevitably win out. In the course of human history and certainly even in the course of the United Nations there is no evidence of such a proposition. Optimism is unsophisticated. Optimism is immature. Optimism is what my students have when they take examinations that they did not study for. Some become quite religious at the time. But regardless of their strategies of optimism, the outcome is far from guaranteed or even likely. What I'm challenging us to do in the spirit of solidarity, is not to embrace optimism but to embrace radical hope. Radical hope is a belief that despite the odds, despite the considerable measures against justice and peace, despite the legacy of hatred, imperialism, white supremacy, patriarchy, homophobia. Despite these systems of power that have normalized settler colonialism. Despite these structures, we can still win, we can still prevail. One motivation for my hope in the liberation and ultimate self determination of the Palestinian people comes in the August of 2014. Black Americans were in Ferguson,Missouri in the Midwest of the United States protesting the death of the young man named Michael Brown, an unarmed African American male who had been killed by a law enforcement agent. And as we protested I saw two things that provided hope for the Palestinian struggle. One was that for the first time in my entire life of activism, I saw a sea of Palestinian people. I saw a sea of Palestinian flags in the crowd saying that we must form a solidarity project. We must struggle together in order to resist because state violence in the United States and state violence in Brazil and state violence in Syria and state violence in Egypt and state violence in South Africa and state violence in Palestine are all of the same sort. And we final understood that we must work together and not turn on each other but instead turn to each other. And later that night when the police began to tear gas us, Miriam Baruti(misspelled..sorry), tweeted us from Ramallah. She along with other Palestinian youth activists told us that the tear gas that we were experiencing was only temporary. They gave us tips for how to wash our eyes out. They told us how to make gas masks out of tshirts. They gave us permission to think and dream beyond our local conditions by giving us a transnational or global solidarity project. And from those tweets and social media messages we began then to organize together. We brought a delegation of Black activist to Palestine and we saw the connection between the police in New York City who are being trained by Israeli soldiers and the type of policing we were experiencing in New York City. We began to see relationships of resistance and we began to build and struggle and organize together. That spirit of solidarity, a solidarity that is bound up not just an ideology but in action is the way out. So as we stand here on the 70th anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and the tragic commemoration of the Nakba, we have an opportunity to not just offer solidarity in words but to commit to political action, grassroots action, local action and international action that will give us what justice requires. And that is a free Palestine from the river to the sea. Thank you for your time.

#marc lamont hill #un speech #free palenstine #cnn #settler colonialism #apartheid #west bank #gaza #free gaza #transcribe speech #nakba #universal declaration of human rights #solidarity #middle east #white settlers #ferguson #mike brown #activists #black people

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taintedkibou · 6 years ago

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It's been a while since I used the "my fiction" tag. You can read it on Ao3, or you can click Keep Reading… and read it here~

Kurusu Akira adjusted the high collar of the Shujin winter sweater, straightening out any creases. It was a temporary fix, unless he planned to keep his neck as stiff as a pole, but he had to uphold the appearance of a well-behaved student. Satisfied, Akira grabbed his school bag and headed downstairs, where breakfast awaited him. His guardian greeted him with a gruff "mornin'", sliding a plate of curry across the counter.

Akira slid into the seat in front of the plate, offered his thanks for the meal, and began eating. "Where's Morgana?" he asked after swallowing a mouthful. The seat designated to the family cat was empty.

Sojiro glanced towards the end of the counter as he lit a cigarette. "Out hunting, I suppose. Maybe he made it to Ginza."

Akira grinned. Morgana did love his sushi. He finished his meal, bid Sakura Sojiro goodbye, and walked out of the cafe. "Flip the sign!" was shouted at his back. Akira did as he was told; as he had been doing for almost three years now. He sometimes wondered why Sojiro still voiced the request, but it was probably just as routine as the act itself. Hoisting his school case high, he began the trip to Shujin.

—

Akira hurriedly disembarked the crowded train and headed up the stairs to the Underground Walkway. From there, it was to the Square, where he was to make another transfer. This was where his adventures sometimes became something more than a droll routine.

"A-ki-ra!"

Today was one of those days. Akira braced himself for the incoming impact, not expecting to be tackled. A strong arm wound around his midsection, holding him upright, as the culprit laughed heartily in his ear. "Yo!" The newcomer's grin was almost as blinding as his hair. Sakamoto Ryuji released his victim, looping his arm around Akira's shoulder instead. "How's my best friend doin'?"

"I might be suffering from a dislocated spine? You know you're an Alpha, right?"

Ryuji sneered. "That's just a label. What I know is... you're weak. Even after a year of training." He angled his body closer to Akira's, sneaking through the gate with him while the station attendant was distracted with another passenger.

Akira hid his smirk, shaking his head. "It's a free pass."

"Saving that tap for a special day," Ryuji told him.

The usual assertiveness was gone from his voice and Akira chanced a glance to see that the blond looked hopeful. This so-called “special day” was obviously important to him. "I hope you get to tap that pass."

Ryuji's wide eyes were visible only for a second, before he doubled over in uncontrollable, roaring laughter. Akira looked sheepish as he held the blond's shoulders to help him keep his balance. Luckily, Ryuji's fit passed right in time for the transit's arrival. Akira guided them into the crowded car, keeping his arm around the blond's waist. His free hand rose to take hold of the overhead rung.

The last of Ryuji's giggles wore off and the blond settled comfortably against his friend. He began talking about an upcoming meet, and that they needed to train together again in preparation. Akira thanked the heavens he had no reaction to Ryuji's scent, but that did nothing to stop the normal reaction of being so close to his "crush". A juvenile word, but "love interest" made him sound like he lived in a romance novel.

When they arrived at Shujin, they unfortunately had to parts ways. Different homerooms meant they couldn't drive the faculty insane. Akira entered his classroom, eyes immediately seeking out Mishima Yuuki. He'd inadvertently rescued the petite Omega from a fate worse than death. Every day, he made sure a smile greeted him. Mishima lifted his head, looking away from his phone long enough to grin at Akira.

Takamaki Ann, a mated Beta, watched him with calculating eyes as he made his way to their row. She turned in her chair after he claimed the desk behind her, propping her head up with a cheeky smile. "You plan on telling him yet? I can tell by your dopey grin that you saw him this morning. That, and the rumor mill works faster than you two walk."

Akira rolled his eyes as he sank into his chair. For a school that tried to uphold its supposed reputation, Shujin was a decomposing mess on the inside. After an act that brought the police and media to the school's front door, Akira was labeled as a pariah. Several students still engaged in conversation with him, but most shunned or ignored him. He would have been barred from the school library if the Student Council President hadn’t stepped in.

Akira shook the memories away, not wanting to lose himself in the past. Ann looked expectantly at him, a slim eyebrow arched questioningly. "No," the brunet sighed. "I…" Akira had no idea how to finish that statement. Anything that came out of his mouth would be a lie. His entire existence was a lie.

Ann pressed on, "Look at me and Makoto. I never thought it would be possible. Never thought I'd end up with someone I used to see as the enemy. You and Ryuji are inseparable, so no one will blink twice."

The door opened and Kawakami walked in, signaling classes would be beginning soon.

"Just drop it," Akira mumbled, reaching into his school case to retrieve his notes. Ann sighed, but obeyed, turning back around so she faced the front of the classroom.

xxx

With no after school activities, Akira decided to head home for the afternoon after bidding his friends "later". Ryuji was already practicing with the track club, so there was no need to bother him. Sojiro gave him an acknowledging nod when he entered the cafe, returning his attention to the task of brewing coffee.

Akira eased himself between the bar seats and leaned against the counter. "Can I help today?" he inquired in a hushed voice.

Before the shop's owner could reply, Leblanc's patrons answered for him. "You should,” a business woman stated from the booth behind the teen. “Boss's curry is the best, but I enjoy Akira-kun's as well."

"Especially when he gets crazy with the spices," another laughed. Even Morgana added his opinion with a long meow. The handful of regular customers knew of the white-booted, black cat. He was a well-trained boy, so no one worried or mulled over his presence in Leblanc. There was even a special chair just for him.

Akira's grin stretched across his face; the gleam in his eyes meant he knew he had already won. Sojiro exhaled deeply, "Fine. Hurry and change." Akira wiggled free of the chairs, stopping to acknowledge each of their customers with a polite bow, before dashing upstairs.

Since Sojiro currently brewed the coffee, he gave Akira the job of making a fresh pot of curry. The teen decided not to go crazy with his experimentation, but he still added ingredients that he knew a few customers would enjoy.

When the last guest left for the evening, Akira shared himself a plate of curry and took it to the counter. A cup of coffee was waiting for him and he could tell it was a Blue Mountain blend with the slightest inhale. Akira gave thanks for his meal and helped himself. If he told him out loud, Sojiro would deny it and brush him off, but ever since coming here, his life made a 180 turn, and he felt more at home above Leblanc than he had living in his parents' house. Speaking of, it was going on almost two months without contact.

Sojiro turned off the faucet. He picked up the nearby towel and dried his hands. "What're you thinking about?" he asked.

"My past," Akira replied after taking a sip of the hot liquid. He enjoyed the way the heat worked its way through his body, warming him as it traveled. He smiled, languid. "And how it has nothing on my present."

"Sentimental brat," the cafe owner scoffed. The faint hint of a smile gave him away. "Hurry up and go to the bathhouse." Akira complied, clearing his plate of food and chasing it with warm coffee. He was still letting his tongue cool as he dashed downstairs, out the cafe, and across the street.

Akira enjoyed soaking in the baths as much as the next person. The old man that loved searing hot water was absent, so Akira set the temperature to something agreeable and sank into the water until just his shoulders were covered. As comforting situations liked to do, the memories he brushed while enjoying dinner rose to the surface. Sojiro claimed his parents still loved him—"They're very busy." Busy, yes. They were also probably very relieved to get rid of him so they didn’t have to look after something that would always attract attention. To them, he was just another burden.

Akira dunked himself beneath the water, focusing all his thoughts on not drowning. When he resurfaced, he stood from the hot water and made his way out of the bath, soak completed.

Sojiro removed his apron once the boy walked through the door, folding and storing it. He gave Akira a heavy pat on the shoulder; a wordless, cautious warning.

When his guardian walked through the door and flipped the sign to "close", Akira locked every lock. Morgana was missing, which meant he would somehow find his way to the Sakura household. Akira rather enjoyed the cat's company, even when he woke and found himself being smothered by said cat. He made his way up to his room, made sure his window was shut and secured, and took a seat at the edge of his bed.

Akira reached behind his neck, nails catching on the invisible edge of plastic. He pinched it between his fingers and pulled. The transparent square was crushed, crumpled, and disposed of. Akira wiped down the back of his neck with an alcohol pad and tossed that as well. He pushed aside the covers to lie down, pulling them back to cover himself from head to toe.

Akira woke to his phone blaring the opening song of Phoenix Ranger Featherman R; a Sakura Futaba specialty warning. Ryuji was coming. He stumbled out of bed and to the desk where he kept his scent blockers. Akira hurriedly opened a packet and pressed it down on the back of his neck, afraid to remove his hand.

Ryuji darkened the door of Leblanc, grinning once the owner acknowledged his presence. He was beckoned in, only to stop after he opened the door. It wasn't Sojiro's murderous glare that froze him in place, but rather the sudden recollection that there was something he needed to do. Ryuji excused himself, closing the door after he stepped out. He was gone only a few minutes before he returned with drinks from the vending machine near the bathhouse.

"Kids these days have no respect,” Sojiro grumbled. He faced the stairs to shout in their direction. "Akira! Hurry up! You have an escort."

Ryuji took a seat at the bar, his school bag in the chair to the right of him, and popped the tab on one of his soda cans. Morgana lifted his head with an inquisitive mewl and Ryuji's drink went forgotten. "Mona!" He jumped down, heading for the cat's personal perch, and scooped the black feline into his arms. Morgana pushed at the blond head with one white paw, leaning away in the opposite direction. "Mona! I thought you loved me...!" Ryuji whined as he tried to press his face against Morgana's.

"You'll need another bath, and maybe some bandages for your scratches." Akira walked down the stairs at that moment, distracting Ryuji enough that Morgana could escape. The black cat bolted past Akira, disappearing upstairs.

Ryuji combed his fingers through his hair, grinning at his friend. "Yo! I woke up early so I decided to come get you."

Akira rolled his eyes. "How considerate. I'm sure you plan to sneak through the gates with me as well."

"Gotta save that tap," Ryuji laughed, reclaiming his previous seat at the counter. Akira sat beside him, a small smile on his face as he remembered yesterday. He buried the slight hope that that "tap" was for him, and enjoyed the plate of curry set before him.

xxx Akira never thought his whole worldview would be shattered with just one simple sentence.

"I finally saw Sakamoto's mate!"

Akira stalled in packing his school case, lifting his head slowly to not draw attention to himself. Ann caught his eye, but they both remained subtle in their eavesdropping.

"So what? Some plain chick, I'm sure. This is Sakamoto we're talking about."

"No! It's a guy... A gorgeous guy. But..."

Akira gripped the handle of his bag tightly, wishing the idiot would spill the beans rather than keep up dramatic pretenses.

"He's an alpha," was finally whispered.

The entire classroom fell deathly silent. Not much of a whisper. Sakamoto Ryuji, an Alpha. Was mated to another Alpha.

Akira sank into his chair, fingers tangled in his hair as he tried to process the information. Alphas didn't mate with other Alphas. It was taboo. The rumors were only going to get worse. Jumping up, he grabbed his school case and made a hasty exit, unapologetic of anyone in his way. Where was he headed? What drove him? Jealousy? Envy. Someone—another Alpha had taken the one thing he wanted most in this half-baked world.

Akira reached up to the back of his neck, scratching at the patch he wore. How could anyone like him if he didn't like himself first?

xxx

Sojiro took pity on him and let him assist in the cafe. Akira brewed coffee until evening rolled in and the last customer walked out.

Feeling weighed down by an invisible pressure, Akira scraped the scent blocking patch from his neck and stuffed it into his pocket to dispose of in his room. Sojiro was never one for comforting words, but he knew how to show his approval. He gave the boy praise for a job well done with a gentle pat to the head. The heavy hand was comforting, and Akira allowed himself a soft rumble of a purr.

"I know you just took it off, but those blockers will be useless if you act like this in public," the man sighed, drawing his hand back to cross both arms over his chest.

"...sorry," Akira whispered, ducking his head.

Sojiro stared at the thin teen, practically folded in on himself now, and breathed heavily through his nose. "No need to apologize for something you have no control over. Just... be careful."

"Yes," Akira responded, his voice even softer than before. "Except... I plan to stop using the patches."

Sojiro arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah." Akira drew himself upright, smiling at the cafe owner. "What happened in the past... I won't let it happen again. Thanks to you and Futaba... hopefully, it won't."

Sojiro gave him a lopsided smile before uncrossing his arms and pointing at the small cup of coffee. "Finish that and then clean up. Make sure you lock up behind me."

Once Sojiro donned his hat and left, Akira did as he was told, locking up behind his guardian first. He emptied his cup of the remaining coffee, and got to work on clearing the sink of its few dishes. Once everything looked spic and span, Akira slowly climbed the steps to his room. His earlier declaration came back to haunt him and he lifted a hand to his neck, fingers brushing over the naked skin. Was he doing the right thing? Only time would tell.

Sojiro's attention shifted from the morning news to the boy walking down the attic stairs. Akira walked with confidence, but exuded nothing but nervousness. "You don't have to—"

"I do," the brunet cut in. "I can't hide all my life, and Japan has yet to invent a procedure to remove secondary genders."

Sojiro chuckled softly. "That's true." His smile vanished just as quickly, replaced with a stern frown. "If anyone tries anything—"

"Lock myself away and call you immediately." Futaba was the one in charge of tracking his heats, and had yet to inform him of one. With a shaky smile, Akira gripped the handles of his school case tighter and walked past the counter to the door. "Flip the sign," he recited before he could be told. With that minor task complete, it was time to start the real adventure.

—

The last person he wanted to see met him at Aoyama. Akira had to deal with two train molesters and a very bold salaryman that propositioned him outside the Teikyu building. How Ryuji managed to find him in a sea of students wearing identical uniforms was beyond his comprehension. An arm was slung around his neck, only to slowly fall away. Akira peeked out from beneath his fringe and was met with a wide-eyed blond. "Surpri—"

"What the hell, dude?" Ryuji failed at keeping his voice below a whisper, but it wasn’t loud enough to draw attention. Not yet. He wrapped his arm back around the brunet's neck and kept him pressed close against his side as they began moving. "Why aren't you wearing your blockers?"

Now it was Akira's turn to be dumbfounded as he stumbled along. "You—"

"Of course I knew, dumbass. I figured if you wanted to hide your gender, that's your business, not mine." With their close proximity, Ryuji felt the shudder ripple through Akira's body. Craning his neck, he realized the other teen was crying. There was no sound, but the tears flowed steadily, and he smelled of distress. "Shit. Akira! Stop... stop crying. People will think I'm abusing you. Think happy thoughts!"

"I am happy," Akira sniffled, using his free hand to wipe at his eyes. "I thought you would treat me differently... if you knew."

Ryuji stopped walking, forcing Akira to do the same. He had to resist the urge to resort to a physical reprimand—station attendants were already watching them suspiciously—and settled for a disappointed glare. "That actually hurts, y'know. I'm not a dumb Alpha. I respect Omegas. And you're my friend, idiot." Apparently, that was the “wrong” thing to say, since more tears began falling. Ryuji made a quick decision to drag Akira from the station. From there, it was the alley where they'd first met.

Ryuji groaned loudly, pacing back and forth. Akira sat on an upturned crate, wiping stray tears from his eyes. "My scent's all over you...! They'll know it's me! The school will use you as an excuse to finally expel me!" He tangled his fingers in his short locks, forcing himself not to scream at the sky.

"I've stopped crying," Akira mumbled, dropping his hands into his lap. His eyes were red rimmed and swollen, making his smile useless. "And I like your scent. It's a sad attempt at a pickup line when someone says you smell delicious, but you... you smell delicious. You remind me... of ramen."

Ryuji's pacing stopped immediately, but he never turned around.

"I have no idea why I never noticed it before. Maybe..." Akira idly rubbed at the back of his neck, void now of the patch that passed him off as a Beta. He smiled, a small curl of his lips. ‘I am an Omega.’

—

After walking through the front gates of Shujin Academy, it became clear to Akira that Ryuji was the only one that knew his true second gender. The stares were endless as he moved through the school halls, and the remarks scathing. Akira chose not to acknowledge any of it and entered his classroom via the back door. Mishima's head snapped up, along with every other student present.

Ann was out of her seat and at his side instantly. “I had no idea,” she babbled once at the brunet’s side. “You hid it so well. You were more of a Beta than me! Did anybody do anything to you on the way here? There’s a faint hint of Ryuji. Did he walk you here?” Her eyes narrowed dangerously, ice-blue eyes promising physical violence. “Did he try something?”

“No,” Akira laughed, wiping a few stray tears from his eyes. He never expected to receive such positive responses from his friends. He should have known better. “He walked me here from the train station.”

“I can pick you up from now on, if you’d like,” Ann offered. They stood beside their respective desks now. “Mako-chan tries to walk with Mishima when she can.”

Akira didn’t know that. He smiled gratefully. “I’ll think about it. You’ll probably have to fight Ryuji for the job.”

“I won’t hesitate.” Ann made a muscle to prove just how serious she was.

Akira laughed again. He added Ann’s defiant voice to Sojiro's calm voice and Ryuji's loud one, and slipped into his seat with a relaxed smile. Futaba was literally at his side via his cell phone, watching out for him. They were his own personal protection squad; Akira was safe.

—

Ryuji's taboo relationship was pushed to the side by Akira's sudden gender reveal. That is, until the school day ended. Ryuji appeared in the doorway of 2-B, his fierce gaze moving from one Omega to the other. Ann saw him first, and whispered to Akira, who turned towards the open door. Ryuji found himself relaxing beneath the gray-eyed gaze, and freed a hand from his pocket to beckon the brunet over.

The minute Akira walked out of the classroom to join Ryuji, new rumors began to fly. Akira let the whispered accusations of chasing a mated Alpha bounce off him. Ryuji was his friend, first and foremost. There was no way he would come between him and his mate.

xxx

Ryuji decided Big Bang was a good location. They were less likely to draw attention, even as an unmated Alpha and Omega pair. Akira nibbled on his fries after pushing the wrapped burger to the side. "When did you find out?"

Ryuji finished a bite of his burger with a thoughtful look. "The first time you invited me up to your room."

Akira huffed, a scornful smile playing at his lips. "Sojiro warned me not to, but... I was just so happy to have a friend."

"Same, dude." Ryuji set down his burger, folding his arms atop the table. "Your room smelled like an Omega. I thought, holy shit, Akira found a mate. But then I realized the scent was only in your room. Day before yesterday, when I came and picked you up, Boss looked ready to string me up by my happy bits." Ryuji grinned at Akira’s shocked stare, scratching the bridge of his nose. "Yeah. Somehow, your scent had drifted down into the shop. Since Leblanc wasn't open, I knew it had to be you, confirming everything I'd ever thought. Did you know Alphas have a way to block Omega scents?"

Akira shook his head, fascinated by the turn of subject.

"Perfume," Ryuji stated with all the confidence he could muster. Akira covered his mouth, but the laughter still spilled out between his fingers. Success. Akira looked so down; Ryuji only wanted to cheer him up. Keeping him happy would always be top priority. "Don't ask where I got it from, though. I left, headed to the laundromat, and rubbed some right here..." Ryuji indicated to his upper lip, right above the Cupid's Bow. "And it helped. I bought the drinks as an excuse."

Gone was Akira's smile, replaced with something akin to fear and horror. "Do I... offend?"

Eyes wide, Ryuji shook his head. "No way, man! I was just respecting your privacy."

Akira tried to hold the tears in, but they refused to listen. He wondered if this was his true nature as an Omega—overemotional and sensitive to everything. Or maybe this was a personal problem. The one person he would have loved to create a future with—an understanding, kind, and fiery soul, was out of reach, but always nearby, fretting over him. They always said life wasn't fair.

"I came prepared!"

Akira lowered his hands, choking out a wet laugh at the sight of almost a dozen tissue packets spread between their trays. Unlike during his previous breakdown, Ryuji remained calm, smiling as Akira opened a packet and began wiping at his face. "I'm sorry," the brunet mumbled, sniffling softly.

"I'm not giving you orders, but you shouldn't apologize so much." Ryuji picked up his burger, taking a big bite. "You never did it before. You shouldn't let your second gender control you. I mean... do I act like an Alpha?"

"No," Akira told him with a soft sniffle, wiping at his nose. He set the used and crumpled tissue aside to pick up a fry."You're just... Ryuji." He popped the food into his mouth.

"Exactly! So you should go back to being Akira. The smart mouthed li'l punk that don't take shit from no one. 'cept..." Ryuji was blushing, a rare sight to Akira's eyes. "Tell me to get lost when... y'know... that time... rolls around."

That time? Akira looked confused for a moment. Ryuji's blush deepened and it hit him swiftly. "Oh." Akira blushed as bright as the blond. "I haven't had one since my first."

Ryuji raised an eyebrow, his embarrassment fading. "Weird. Should you see a doctor?"

Akira's heart swelled. 'Stop being so nice.' "No. Suppressants."

Ryuji still looked uncertain, but he dropped the subject. "If you're feeling better, you should eat." He nodded at the wayward burger when Akira met his eye. "You'll grow big and strong."

"Maybe just big," the brunet muttered, unwrapping the sandwich. Ryuji grinned.

xxx

Ryuji walked Akira right to the front door of Leblanc, despite the continuous stream of protest. He pushed him through the door, waved at a surprised Sojiro, and took his leave. Akira smiled apologetically at the young doctor from the nearby clinic. Takemi Tae nodded her head at him in return, expression unchanging from its monotonous state.

"Welcome back," Sojiro rumbled. "Glad to see today was successful."

Akira's grin dimmed to a lesser watt smile. "It didn't start out too great, but... it ended well enough. I know how to handle things now."

"You can send anyone that harasses you to me," the young doctor suggested in a low, humming drawl. "After you put them in their place for thinking they can walk all over Omegas." Takemi herself was an Omega. Once a successful doctor, she was stripped of her renown and disowned from the hospital she'd worked at for years. An Alpha came into the picture and turned her life onto its head by pinning his medical mistake on her. She was successful in Yongen-jaya now, and off the radar. Akira visited the clinic ever so often and ended up a guinea pig to the young woman's medical trials. Makes him wonder now if she always knew his second gender.

Takemi smirked, as though reading his thoughts, and went back to staring down at her coffee.

Akira asked for a soda, making sure to grab a coaster as he passed the stack, and headed up to his room with the drink. He had snacks in his bag, courtesy of Ryuji, that would be enjoyed as he worked on his homework.

[chapter two] [chapter three] [chapter four]

#my fiction #fanfiction #persona #persona 5 #omegaverse #eventual #pegoryukita #ryukita #kurusu akira #sakamoto ryuji #kitagawa yusuke #fic: try my luck #happy pride 🌈

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter 82 WAD LIAO - full draft

"Keith!"

Standing in the bridge, Keith had chewed his nails right back as he'd waited for the others to return. He'd hurt Lance, and he'd run like a coward, trying to take refuge in his old room, but it wasn't the same without Lance, that's how he'd ended up on the bridge

"What happened Allura?"

"Inok is dead. You killed him..."

There was a but...

"They've severed all ties with the Olkari and want nothing to do with Voltron. There herbs took major damage, and their herbs are their livelyhood. They were all suffering under Inok's rule, but that's the way their culture was built... perhaps with time, they'll reach out to use when they're ready"

"They were killing their own people..."

"We know..."

Turning towards Allura, the woman let out a small gasp

"Keith, are you ok?"

"I couldn't save them..."

"Keith, no ones blaming you. You couldn't change what happened. You tried to help them"

"I failed them. I failed the kids. All that boy wanted was someone to help his mum, and I failed at that!"

"Keith, you need to sit down, you don't look very good"

"No! No... just. I don't deserve you being kind"

"Keith..."

"I hurt Lance! I let him down! All he did was care and I hurt him! All I do is hurt people!"

Keith couldn't breathe. He'd never felt a crushing depression like this, over a mission gone wrong and he didn't know how to pull himself out of it, or if he really deserved to. He was supposed to lead Voltron, but he hadn't even managed to do that properly

"Keith, Lance is fine. I'm sure he's probably waiting at home for you to come back"

"Then he's a fool..."

Swaying, Allura rushed to grab him

"Here, you need to sit and I'll call Lance"

"He probably doesn't even want to see me"

"He loves you. Of course he's going to want to see you"

"I hurt him! What part of that aren't you getting?! I lost my head over those two kids! I should have been worrying about Lance! I should have been with him! He's acting like everything's ok, but lost another pup! He's lost 3! How is that fair!? How... we don't even know what the mother those kids had to go through to have them, and now she's just gone and they have to live without a mother and a father! And it's my fault!"

Roaring the words, he felt so fucking guilty as his voiced the thoughts that had been tormenting him. So lost in his own guilt and pain, he failed to notice Allura wasn't alone, and that the rest of them, including Coran, were standing in the bridge while he had his temper tantrum

"Keith, I know it hurts, but you tried your hardest"

Wrapping her arms around her, Allura rubbed his back and told him it was alright. It wasn't alright and she wasn't Lance

"I'll call Lance..."

Nodding his consent, Keith closed his eyes.

There were a few long doboshes before Allura finally spoke

"I can't get through to Lance"

Shooting out of Allura's hold, Keith stumbled before righting himself

"Keith, I'm sure there's an explaination"

"I hurt him Allura. I pushed him away and he fell... what if..."

"No. No more "what ifs?", we'll go down together and check to see if he's ok"

"I..."

"Keith, you're in no position to be walking around unaided"

"I'm fine"

"That's why you look like you're going to topple over at any moment. Here, we'll go together"

Taking his hand, Allura was treating him like a child. He supposed he was acting like one, and showing her another side of him that she really didn't need to see. Pulling his hand back, he wrapped his arms around his waist and kept his head down as they moved from the bridge. So thickly covered in his own scent, he still failed to notice they weren't alone, and the moment the door closed behind them, their friends erupted into concerned whispers.

The journey down to the house seemed to take vargas, Keith was sweating by the time the house came into view. He was feeling even worse with every step closer to home. Allura had said no "what ifs?", but how was he supposed to think of anything else?

"Keith, the door is right there. See, you're ok"

"I'm worried about what I'm going to find past the door"

"I'm sure Lance and the boys are just fine"

Trailing behind Allura and into the house, Keith all but shoved Allura into the wall as he caught Lance's distressed and hurt scent. The living room was devoid of his mate, causing him to growl in frustration

"Keith?"

"He's hurt!"

"Ok. Let's take a look around. I'll check the twins room, you check the bathroom and your room"

Jogging to the bathroom, he found it empty. Rushing into their bedroom, he found it just as empty

"Keith, the pups aren't here"

"Lance isn't here either..."

"Where would he go?"

"I don't know... if he's not here... the only other place would be the castle..."

"I'll call Coran and have him scan the castle"

"Allura..."

"Keith, we'll find him. He'll be ok, where ever he is, so will the boys"

Sinking down on the edge of bed, Keith sighed as he tried to think of where Lance would be. Allura tapped away on her communicator, he was vaguely aware of her talking in the background

"Keith, he's not on the castle. Where else would he go?"

"I don't know... he was here..."

"Well... do you think he might have headed down to the hospital? Maybe he thought you'd turn up back there?"

"What? Why?"

"Because of the kids? Maybe he thought you went back to them?"

"I... I don't know"

"I'll call through to the hospital"

"No, we'll go down there"

"Keith"

"Just drop it Allura. If he's hurt, I need to be there, even if I'm the one who hurt him"

"We don't know if he's there though. It could be a wasted trip"

"Then we'll wait! I can't do nothing"

"Fine, just let me tell the others"

"Don't... just don't"

Walking into the hospital emergency room, Keith could smell himself, beneath a thick layer of the Olkari version of disinfectant. If his scent was that bad after vargas of absence, he couldn't imagine how much worse it would have been

"Hi, we are looking for Lance"

"Queen Allura. The Red Paladin?"

"Yes, Lance. Is he here?"

"The Red Paladin is currently recovering from surgery. He's awake and resting, I'll have someone take you through to him"

"What happened to him?"

"His chart says he was unresponsive, presenting with a dislocated wrist. Ryner personally escorted him down, and his son's are with him. If you please just take a seat, someone will be out shortly to take you through"

"Keith, let's take a seat"

"He dislocated his wrist?"

"That's what said"

"I pushed him Allura. I pushed him away and hurt him"

"Keith, it was an accident. I'm sure he's ok, and if the boys are with him, there's nothing to worry about"

Sitting on his bed, Lance had not only their sons, but the boy and baby girl from Zaidal. The boy was laying along Lance's left side, the girl cradled against Lance's chest and their son's both sleeping against his husband's right leg

"Hey guys. Come in"

"Lance... I'm so sorry baby"

"Oh, my wrist isn't that bad..."

"You had surgery"

"I just landed wrong. It could have happened to anyone"

Pushing the small of his back, Allura propelled him forward

"Keith, you look like quiznak"

"He's been worried about you"

"I'm ok. I don't remember how I got here, but I'm ok, and so are the kids"

Readjusting his hold on the baby girl, Lance reached his left hand out towards him

"Come here, I need my alpha"

Striding over, Keith grasped Lance's hand, his lips finding Lance's as his right hand moved to his husband's face

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry baby. I never meant to hurt you"

"Hey, hey. I'm ok. We're all ok"

"I might leave you guys to it. Lance, I'll come back and check on you later. Please see if you can get Keith to rest"

"Will do. Thanks Allura"

Not looking back, Keith nuzzled Lance's face

"I'm so sorry"

"Keith, I'm fine. I just landed wrong and thanks to the miracle of Olkari medicine, I only need the cast on for like a week"

"I still hurt you"

"Not on purpose. Hey, come on. You don't need to cry"

"I'm just so sorry"

"If you say sorry again, I'm going to hit you"

"I love you baby"

"I love you too, here, can you take her?"

Nodding, Keith kissed Lance's cheek, before pulling back and taking the baby girl into his arms

"What's she doing here?"

"Ryner suggested it. She wouldn't take formula, and she just kept crying"

"She looks happy enough now"

"Yeah, I... I said we'd take care of her for a while, until something can be arranged"

"Baby, are you sure?"

"We can't just leave them"

"Both of them?"

"The Zaidal won't take them back, but Ryner is contacting other planets in the coalition. There are lots of orphans from the war, and lots of families that lost their children, or the ability to have children. She's going to make sure they're kept together"

"I... this is all my fault"

"No Keith. You tried to help them, and you saved these two..."

"Have you talked to him?"

"His named Shalad, but he doesn't know his sisters name because Inok took his mother and sister away just after she was born"

"So she doesn't have a name?"

"I was thinking of calling her Jade, her skins such a nice shade of green, or maybe Fern?"

Looking down at the baby girl, she looked so peaceful. It was hard to believe she'd been pulled out of the awful pit

"I like Fern... but three babies, that's a lot to handle"

"It's only temporary, and I'm the only one who's breastfeeding around here. I'm sure Ryner will find them a new family soon"

Sinking down into the chair beside Lance's bed, Keith stroked Fern's cheek

"I don't know what the others are going to say"

"Well I won't be going on any missions for a week, so it doesn't really matter"

"Does it hurt?"

"No. I've been worried about you though..."

"I shouldn't have taken off"

"It's ok. You needed space to work through everything, but you look like quiznak. I'm sorry all the space up here's taken"

"It's ok. It kind of suits you"

"What? Buried under children?"

"You've always been better with them than I was"

"Probably because I grew up with... well, you've seen my family. And with what I went through in my trails, I pretty much had parenting shoved down my throat. 4 kids can't be that hard"

"Sorry to disturb you both, I wanted to see how you were doing, Lance"

"Oh. Hi Ryner. I'm ok. Thanks for getting me down here, I'll be wearing the cast for about a movement, but that's fine. Fern also fed, so she's doing better"

"Fern?"

"She's got such beautiful green skin, and Shalad didn't know her name"

"Fern is a fine name. So she's fed?"

"Yeah. Keith and I will look after them both until you can find a family for them. We're already set up for kids and all"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, we can't just leave them here. Besides, she needs to feed and she wouldn't take a bottle. We can work on getting her to, right Keith?"

"Yeah. We'll look after them. How long will Lance be in hospital?"

"He'll be able to leave later today, Keith do you mind if I talk to you for a moment"

Keith looked to Lance, his husband nodding

"It's ok. I'm not going anywhere"

"I'll be right back"

"Do you want me to take Fern?"

"No, she's sleeping. I don't mind holding her"

Giving his mate a quick kiss, Keith followed Ryner out of the room and into the hallway, the woman closing the door behind them

"Are you sure you and Lance wish to take on these two children?"

Keith blinked in confusion

"Why? Did something else happen?"

"Last night, when he was brought in, he was in a bad way. He was shaking and couldn't even speak. We had to summon orderlies down to collect him"

Keith sighed

"That was my fault. I lost my temper over everything. I pushed him and he fell, that's when he hurt his wrist. On top of everything, it was just too much"

"We all carry our share of emotional scars"

"Lance has been through a lot. I think he panicked because he didn't know how to help me. If you're worried about it affecting the children, you don't need to. We'll have the help of the full Voltron team"

Ryner nodded slowly, reaching a hand out to stroke Fern's face

"I had no idea Zaidal had fallen into such a state, but at least you were able to save these two"

"I'm sorry for my part. The boy wanted to save his mum so badly... I didn't mean to ruin everything with them"

"What's done is done. We will find these two a good home, and if they were prepared to continue such outdated traditions, is it not best you interfered?"

"I don't know... Thanks Ryner. Let us know when you find them a home"

Freedom! The hospital food was just as awful as Lance had remembered it being, and even Shalad didn't want to eat. Since realising Keith was there, the boy had pretty much glued himself to Keith's leg, while Keith carried the twins and Lance carried Fern, thanks to having only one arm. Thanks to the painkillers, he didn't actually feel much, but waking up in hospital had definitely been a shock, doubly so to find he'd already had surgery and his arm was in a cast

"Baby, you ok?"

"Hmm? What, yeah. I was just thinking. Do we go to the castle? Or back to the house?"

"The house. Shalad, are you hungry?"

Hiding his face, Shalad nodded

"Our friend Hunk, the big guy who flies the Yellow lion, he makes the yummiest food. What's your favourite food?"

Shalad shook his head

"Never mind, we can find that out together, and you'll be able to meet the rest of the Paladins... and Keith, Fern needs a nappy change"

"Already?"

"She's a baby, these things happen"

"I know. I'll take care of it when we get home"

"Keith! I just realised, I can't bath the boys with one hand!"

"It's ok, Shalad will help us with them and Fern. Won't you buddy?"

Shalad nodded mutely

"See, we have it covered"

"Well you're going straight to bed after we've eaten. The boys slept most of the morning, so they won't want to nap this afternoon, so we'll watch movies, or we can draw?"

"Baby, you need rest too"

"I'm fine"

Keith frowned at him, but didn't push the issue.

Walking into their house, Lance rocked Fern, the girl crying in discomfort

"I know sweetheart. I know. Keith is going to get rid of that yucky nappy, and then you can have a nice sleep in a comfy bed"

"Where should I set the twins up?"

"On the rug in the living room. There's books and that still there, so we just need to grab a couple of blankets"

"I'll get them once the boys are settled"

"Keith, I can still do things. It's just a busted wrist"

"That I gave you. It's fine, my face is fine"

"But mentally?"

Lance raised an eyebrow

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Ryner said you were out of it when she came in last night"'

"Oh... you kind of scared me. I didn't know what to do or say to help you and it made me feel bad. You always come to my rescue, but I never know what to do"

"You just have to be there to make everything better. Go sit down with Fern"

"Why do you keep calling her Fern?"

Shalad's shy voice came as Keith placed the boys down on the living room rug. Lifting Shalad into his arms, Keith looked such a natural with him

"Well, she needs a name"

"But Fern?"

"Because she's got such beautiful green skin. Where we come from, a fern is plant"

"But mummy didn't name her Fern"

Lance felt so incredibly bad for the boy. It wasn't fair that he'd lost his mother so young

"We know, but we don't know her name, and Fern's are really pretty plants. Do you want to help Keith in the kitchen? He's not very good cook, so you might need to tell him what to do"

"Hey, I'm a good cook. Besides, we have left overs"

"Left overs?"

"They're magical food that's a rare treat"

Shalad's eyes widened

"Magical?"

"Trust me, they taste really yummy!"

"But first we need to get a nappy for your sister"

"And probably the boys. Oh, and can you grab my communicator. I want to tell Allura we're back at the house so she won't worry"

"I think she's going to worried, you were kind of in hospital"

"That's old news"

Settling down on the sofa, Lance leant over and laid Fern on the coffee table

"Yes I know, but Keith is going to clean you right up"

"Can I help?"

"It's ok, Shalad. These two little boys are our sons, so I promise we've had plenty of practice"

"They're yours? How can you have two babies without a mother?"

"I'm their mother. I gave birth to them"

"Boys can't do that!"

"Lance is a little special"

"But its weird"

"It's not weird"

No. Shalad was just curious. He shouldn't be feelings so self conscious because a kid found him odd... so why was his words getting him to badly?

"Boys aren't meant to have babies"

"Some boys do. Let's get things organised, and then Lance can read you a story"

"Are you their daddy?"

"I sure am. Lance and I are married"

"You love another boy?"

"Very much"

"Oh... I didn't know that was allowed"

"Yep. It sure is. Boys can love boys and girls can love girls"

"Wow! That's so weird"

"Not really"

"Yes it is"

Keith cast him a worried look before carrying Shalad from the room. This definitely wasn't going to plan. The kid thought he was weird, and while he came from another planet, it did drive home that out here, he was a freak and was weird.

After changing all the kids, Shalad curled up on the sofa with Keith. Shalad had never used a knife and fork before, but Keith was patient with the boy, who seemed to be coming out of his shell. With the pair of them in their own world, Lance was laying on the floor with the boys, waiting for Allura to come down and watch the kids. The boys and Fern would be fine, but Shalad was old enough to open doors and run away

"Baby, I think I'm going to take a nap. Will you be alright with the boys?"

"I'll be fine. Allura's going to come down soon. Shalad, do you want to play with us? Or you can take a bath? Or a nap?"

"I'm not leaving Keith"

"Looks like you have an admirer"

"What's not to admire?"

"Well..."

"Lance, don't shatter the kids delusions. Now give me a kiss, and wake me up if you need anything"

"Ok, I love you Keith"

Kissing him quickly, Keith then hoisted Shalad up carrying him under his arm, the boy laughing as he did, but his husband didn't tell him he loved him back.

Allura and Pidge came down about half a varga later, the woman immediately picking Fern up, while Pidge went straight to the kitchen with her dataslate

"Hello sweetheart"

"Hi, Allura"

"I didn't mean you, Lance"

"I know. We're calling her Fern for now"

"Aw... Hello Fern. She's so sweet"

"Yeah, she really is. Shalad's just taking a nap with Keith. He's handing everything better than expected"

"He's a kid, it probably hadn't sunk in yet"

"Yeah... still, he really seems to like Keith. How's Hunk doing?"

"Hunk's pretty shaken up about it. He wants you all to come up for dinner"

"Is it going to be cripple friendly?"

"That's right! I heard you ended up in hospital! Is everything ok?"

"I fell and dislocated my wrist. So I've got this super cool cast on for the next movement"

"We could put you in a pod"

"Nah, it's ok. It's just a movement. Besides, we said we'd take care of the kids until Ryner can find them a new home"

"How long's that going to take?"

"No more than a movement or so. She's going to keep them together, so that's nice"

Yawning, Lance rubbed at his face. The painkillers were starting to wear off, and he desperately wanted to take a nap

"Lance?"

"It's nothing Allura. I'm just a little sleepy"

"We can watch the kids if you want to nap"

"Nah. I told Keith I'd watch them so he could nap. Besides, there that other kid that needs supervision"

"What other kid? I thought there were only two from Zaidal?"

Allura looked genuinely confused

"I'm talking about Pidge. You know how she gets over technology"

"I can hear you"

"Good! Don't destroy our kitchen! I still haven't had a chance to use it"

"I'm not going to destroy the kitchen. Just go take a nap or something"

"I invited you guys down so we could hang out, not nap"

"Lance, its fine. You take a nap and we'll handle everything out here"

"Really?"

"I promise. Go spend some time with Keith, he probably really needs you"

"He has Shalad with him"

"I've seen how big that bed is. There's plenty of space"

"Ok, but make sure Laneith and Kelance don't get into any trouble"

"They wouldn't do that for Aunty Allura and Aunty Pidge"

"Famous last words"

Shalad was curled up against Keith, the pair of them in the middle of the bed. Smiling at the sight, Lance walked around and climbed in on Keith's free side, enjoying how much more comfortable the bed was compared to the hospital. Carefully resting his wrist on Keith's chest, Lance nuzzled into his husband's side with a soft sigh. Keith was going to be alright, so were the kids.

After getting a few vargas sleep, Lance was woken rather violently by kick to the stomach. Curling in on himself, he looked up to see Shalad smirking at him, as if daring him to do something. That little shit... Lance had to remind himself that the kid has just lost his mum and his whole planet had rejected him. He was obviously attached to Keith, and was probably acting out to get attention. Still. He didn't really appreciate being kicked for nothing. Shaking Keith's shoulder, his husband groaned at him

"I'm sleeping"

"I know, but it'll be dinner time soon and Hunk wants us to head up to the castle"

"I just want to sleep"

"Sorry, no can do"

Rolling away from him, Keith huffed

"Lance, let me sleep. I'll eat later"

"Keith, you need to eat"

"And I will. Shalad, you go with Lance"

"I want to stay with you"

"Everyone up at the castle wants to meet you"

"I want to stay with Keith!"

"Well you can't, we need to head up to dinner"

"No! I'm staying with Keith!"

"Shalad, it's ok. You can stay and we'll eat later. Sorry baby, I'm just really tired"

"Sure. Whatever"

Climbing off the bed, Lance hissed when he placed his weight down on his hands. He should have just gone in a pod. Now he was going to inconvenience everyone. Chewing on his lip, he walked from the bathroom without looking back. He definitely wasn't jealous of Shalad... No. No. Nope. Not at all.

"Hey Lance, did you have good nap?"

"Oh, what? Yeah, it wasn't bad. What's the time?"

"It's nearly dinner time. We were just organising the kids before coming to wake you. Is Keith awake?"

"Shalad didn't want to leave Keith, and Keith wants to sleep"

"So they're not coming?"

"No... give me a few ticks to freshen up, then we can head up"

"Ok, I think the boys are ready to go! Fern's been away for a little while, but she doesn't seem upset"

"She's probably hungry. I'll feed her when I come back"

"Feed her? I can make up some formula..."

"She won't take a bottle, so I've been feeding her"

"Is that ok?"

"It's either that or she doesn't eat..."

"Isn't it weird?"

"Is it? I mean, I'm lactating, and she's hungry"

"But she's not your baby"

"No, but she's a baby in need..."

"I still think it's weird"

There was that word again. He didn't like that word, and he didn't see feeding Fern as weird... maybe it was? But the tiny girl needed milk... leaving Pidge and Allura, Lance went to the bathroom, coming back to find Fern in Pidge's hold, her lips around Pidge's pinky

"She's definitely hungry. I'll take her"

"Do you need help?"

"I've conquered the one arm feed. She'll be fine"

"How are you going to wash her? How are you going to wash the twins?"

"Pidge, I have a husband remember. Keith's happy to help out"

"I never thought he'd be open to taking in the two kids"

"Well, he's a dad now... he might not be great with them all the time, but he's learning"

Flopping down next to Pidge, he waited expectantly, until it finally got awkward

"Pidge, give me Fern so I can feed her"

"I still can't believe you are"

"What am I supposed to do? Let her die? I'm going to grab some formula and bottles from the castle, so for now, I'll just feed her to tide her over"

Finally placing Fern in his hold, Lance slid his hand up shirt and undid his bra so he could nurse

"Does she feel different from the boys?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know... maybe because she's not human?"

"A baby is a baby. They all try to inhale your nipple in a bid for more milk. She's fine"

"Is your milk any good for her?"

"It's the only option we have right now"

"Maybe the hospital could figure something out?"

"Pidge, I'm not letting them end up stuck in the hospital. They've both been through something horrible, and deserve to be spoilt a little"

The hard edge in his words had Pidge's frown lines deepening

"Ok then. Someone's still tired"

"I'm not tired"

"Fine, you're hangry then. Whatever, I was just trying to help"

"Help by calling me weird?"

"Well it is"

"You know what. I don't want to talk about this. Keith and I are only looking after them until Ryner finds them a family"

"I think it's sweet. I could totally see you with a big family"

"One day, maybe. It all depends if Keith wants more children later on"

"I still think it's nice. You're such a natural"

"I'm not a natural. I just had a big family and lots of practice. If I was a natural, I could find away to get Shalad to open up to me"

"I'm sure he'll come around"

"Maybe it's better he doesn't. That way it won't be so hard when it comes time to say goodbye"

"That's true... isn't it Fern. You'll probably end up with another new name, but you're so precious, I'm sure whatever you're named will be perfect"

"Lance, you're getting attached"

"I can't help it. She's so cute, have you seen how green her eyes are? Or how white her hair is? She's a little cutie"

"If you say so"

"Yep. I'll need to grab more nappies to bring down, and find some of the boys smaller onesies for her"

"Didn't you buy girl stuff?"

"We gave most of it to the rebels for refugees. We only kept a small selection of things in case we had a girl in the future"

"Lance, did you really lose another pup?"

Lance's head shot up, his eyes wide as his heart started to race

"What does that mean? Who told you that?"

"Keith, he kind of yelled at it Allura. Is it true?"

"I. Uh..."

"Pidge..."

"I'm just worried"

"I can't... Pidge..."

Sensing his distress Fern released his nipple and began to cry

"Lance"

"I don't want to talk about it!"

What the quiznak? Why would Keith yell that kind of thing out? And when? How long had she known? Did they all know? Were they all... what were they thinking? Were they laughing at him? Or did they think him a slut or something for falling pregnant again?

"Lance, it's ok. You don't need to think or talk about it. If Fern is done feeding, I'll burp her"

Offering the girl his nipple again, she didn't take it

"I think she's done"

"Here, let me. The boys have missed you"

Trading Fern for Kelance, he kissed his son's forehead

"Let's head up to the castle..."

"Lance, I didn't mean to upset you"

"Pidge, please just drop it. The only thing wrong with me is my wrist, and that's healing. We should head up to dinner before Shiro comes looking for us"

Still holding Kelance, Lance watched Allura fussing over Fern, while Pidge was talking away to Laneith as they sat at the dining table. Staring down at his plate, there was no way he could cut the slab of meat on his plate, let alone hold a fork with his right hand. The pain and numbness in his fingers had him opening and closing it, in an attempt to rid himself of the discomfort, while his stomach was doing backflips as he wondered what to do about Shalad. He wanted the boy to know he safe and they were going to hurt him, but he didn't feel like he had the right to smack the kids butt for acting bratty. He'd been delusional enough to think everything would fall into place magically once they left the hospital

"Lance, do you need me to cut that up for you?"

Great. Now Shiro was even trying to help him. The one armed alpha. Lance's cheeks burnt red with embarrassment over Shiro posing the question so loudly

"I've got it. I was just thinking"

"Oh? What about?"

"Shalad... he's really attached to Keith"

"Shalad is the boy, right?"

"Yeah"

"Aw, are you jealous because Keef made a friend?"

"I'm not jealous"

"But you're not happy. Go on, tell Pidge all about it"

"Pidge, I will smack you with this cast if you keep going"

"Lance, no one is smacking anyone. You still haven't explained what happened"

"I fell badly and dislocated my wrist. It was one of those freak accident things. I didn't realise how bad it was, so Ryner got me down to hospital"

They didn't need to know he fell because of Keith. They'd read too far into it, and he wasn't letting Shiro use it as an excuse to have a go at his husband

"How long will the cast be on?"

"Only about a movement. That's part of the reason why I said we'd take the kids, it shouldn't take Ryner any longer than that to find them a new home"

"I was hoping Keith would come to dinner so we could talk about what happened"

"Why? Hunk already filled everyone in"

"I want to hear it from his perspective"

"Keith's not up to talking about it right now, you should probably give him a couple of quintants to clear his head"

"We don't have that luxury. We could be called upon at any moment"

"At the moment, I can't go anywhere, so Keith can't go anywhere. We all need a break"

"The galaxy won't stand still just because we need a break"

"I know that"

"Good. I want to see Keith up here for breakfast tomorrow"

"I'll let him know..."

"So had Shalad talked anymore about what happened?"

"No. Not to me. He fell asleep next to me when I was in hospital, but the moment he saw Keith again, he glued himself to his side"

"The kids got weird taste. You're definitely the friendlier one"

"Hunk and Keith saved him. They're probably his heroes. Hunk, you should come down and see if he'll talk with you"

"Are you sure? I won't be in the way will I?"

"Hunk, you couldn't be in the way, even if you tried"

"Thanks Lance. Ok. But you have to eat first"

"I don't know if I can. The pain meds have worn off, so I'm feeling kind of sick"

"That's because you probably haven't eaten"

"Hey! I had hospital food. It was just as bad I remember"

"That's one meal"

Lifting his plate away from him, Hunk sliced his food into bite sized pieces, before returning it to where it was

"I'll give you a shot for the pain, if you finish this"

"Hunk! Are you offering me drugs? I didn't think you swung that way"

"Ha. Ha"

"I know. I'm funny. I still need to grab nappies and stuff for Fern"

"Oh, I can do that. I don't mind at all"

"You don't have to go out of your way Allura"

"It's fine. I've already finished eating. What do you say Fern?"

"She's a baby, she can't reply"

"You talk to your son's, why can't I talk to her?"

"She's got you there!"

"Lance, is there anything you want from the nursery?"

"No. I just need to grab the bottles and formula from the medical room"

"We can do that once you've been given a shot"

"You're supposed to be nice to the injured person, not threaten him with needles"

"Lance, you're being dramatic. Just eat your food and then we can go"

Rolling his eyes, Lance forced his tender hand to pick up his fork. Eating slowly and awkwardly until finally finishing his meal.

Armed with fresh supplies and slightly high from pain killer Hunk had given him, Lance was humming to himself as the group walked down to his house. Hunk had promised it wouldn't affect his breastmilk, but he'd neglected to mention he'd feel like he was floating. He wondered what Keith would think. His husband would probably scold him, and the mental conversation had him giggling to himself

"Is he ok?"

"Yeah. It's just the shot. Give him a few more doboshes and he'll be out like a light"

"No I won't! I'm wide awake!"

"Lance, you don't need to yell"

"I'm not yelling! You're yelling!"

Dissolving back into giggles, he jogged ahead of the group. With Hunk carrying both boys, Pidge carrying the baby supplies and Allura carrying Fern, there was nothing to stop him from running or jogging if he wanted to

"Lance, slow down"

"Why? We're all going to the same place!"

"Because you might trip and fall"

"Will you kiss it better if I do?"

"That's Keith's job"

"Keith doesn't care. He's too busy at the moment"

Pouting, Lance placed his hands on his hips as he waited for the others

"Lance, you need to calm down. You might scare Shalad if you don't"

"That kid hates me! He actually kicked me because I cuddled Keith! Can you believe that!"

"I'm sure he didn't kick you on purpose"

"He did too!"

"Hunk, can't you calm him down?"

"He'll calm down soon enough"

Seeing his house in front of him, Lance ditched the others, giggling again as he jogged towards the front door.

"Keeeeeith! I'm home!"

Looking around as he struck a dramatic pose, he found Keith wasn't even there to see it

"Keith!"

Running to their bedroom, Keith had a hand over his face

"Keith!"

Jumping onto the bed, he shook his husband, ignoring Shalad laying next to him

"Keith!"

"I can hear you Lance"

"Then why didn't you get up? Come on, everyone's here!"

"Everyone?"

"Pidge is, and Allura is and Hunk is!"

"Lance, leave Keith alone"

"He's my husband. I'm not leaving him alone"

"Baby, I'm still tired"

"But everyone's here"

"And you're off your head. What happened?"

"Err, that would be my fault. He was in pain so I gave him a shot"

"Baby, stop shaking me. It's going to make your wrist worse"

"It's fine"

"Lance, that's enough"

Sitting up, Keith wrapped an arm around his waist

"Mmm... hey sexy"

"Baby, no. Shalad is here"

"I was just saying hello"

"Then say hello to your pillow. You need to sleep"

"But..."

"No but's. Get into bed while I deal with all of this"

"Then I can't be with you"

"It won't take long"

"Don't you love me anymore?"

"What? What have you that idea?"

"You don't need me anymore!"

His addled mind was making leaps of it own. Scrambling off the bed, he fell face first

"Lance!"

Rushing to his aid, Hunk lifted him up

"Hunk! When did you get here?"

"I came down with you, remember?"

"No..."

"It's ok buddy. Let's get you in bed"

"Nooo I don't want to"

"You can't stay on the floor"

"Why not? I used to sleep on the floor in mums room when I was kid. I'd gather up all my blankets and make myself a dog bed! But then she'd kick me out"

"Lance, you're not a dog"

"I could be"

"Hunk, what did you give him?"

"Just a pain killer. He shouldn't be off his head like this"

"Well he is. Shalad, we'll get you set up in the spare room so my husband can get some sleep"

"Why doesn't he sleep in the spare bed?"

"Because this is his room too"

"But I want to stay with you"

"Hey, I'll be under the same roof as you..."

"No! I want to stay with you!"

Lance blinked as tears formed. Shalad didn't want him here and Keith wasn't going to kick the kid out. There was no room for him here...

"Keith, he's crying"

"Quiznak. I'm too tired for this. Hunk, why don't you settle him on the living room floor with the twins. I'll be in shortly"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. The boys love sleeping next to him"

"What about you?"

"I'll stay with Shalad"

Keith's words hurt, cutting deep as they ricocheted in his mind. Sniffling sadly as Hunk lifted him, he didn't want to stay in a house where he wasn't wanted.

"What happened?"

"Lance fell off the bed after trying to get Keith up. Keith said we should settle Lance and the boys down in here, but I've already put the boys down in their beds for the night"

"Let them sleep. It's ok"

"Lance?"

"I'll sleep on the sofa. It's ok"

"Lance, there's a spare bed"

"Fern needs somewhere to sleep. She can sleep in there"

"Or she can sleep in here"

"No, she's been through a lot. She can sleep in the spare room"

"Lance, you're hurt. You shouldn't be sleeping on the sofa"

"It's fines... fine... whatever"

Sitting him down the sofa, the wood of the vines was cold, and the cushions seemed to offer little protection against it

"I'll get you a blanket"

"You'll have to get one off the bed"

"Then that's what I'll do"

Humming, Lance closed his eyes

"Do the boys need feeding?"

"They'll let me know when they do"

"Maybe I should make up a couple of bottles?"

"Oh, that's an excellent idea. Let me settle Fern down and I'll help"

"Guys, I can feed my boys!"

"Lance, we've got this. You just get some rest"

Great. Now they didn't need him either. Rolling over so his face was against the sofa and his back was to everyone else. He didn't want to see anyone, and it didn't take long before the sad and sorry omega fell asleep.

Lance wished he could say things improved between him and Shalad, only they didn't. The kid was always with Keith, and the moment his husband paid him any attention, Shalad would find a way to come between them, even going so far as to stomp on his foot, and "accidentally" pouring water in his lap. He tried to connect with the boy and act like nothing was wrong, but he was struggling hard. So hard that he snapped.

Stuck sleeping on the sofa, Lance could barely sleep for how cold it was, and one blanket wasn't enough, not when he used to sleeping under a pile of them. Shivering, he pulled them tighter as he drew his feet up, trying to get warm. He'd been tempted just to go sleep in the spare room with Fern, but didn't dare in case he missed the twins calling out for him. He hated the nights. During the day he could see Keith, but at night he was left alone to his own thoughts, and left wondering how much longer he was going to have Shalad in his life. Ryner had found a prospective family, but at the last moment they'd had to pull out of the adoption, meaning the kid had now been making his life a living hell for the last 9 quintants. Worst of all, he'd gotten his cast off to find his hand was still numb and still pained when he moved it. Giving up on sleep, Lance headed to the bathroom with the intention of showering. He'd barely made it into the room before slipping on the floor and falling painfully. He knew the moment his hand hit the floor that he'd damaged his wrist again, and smacking his head hard, he tasted blood from biting his tongue. In the low light came a giggle. That's what did it. Shalad had gone to the trouble of sticking around to watch him fall. Dragging himself up, he caught the boy as he went to run from the room, and smacked his arse firmly. Shalad screamed. He screamed as if Lance had slapped him across the face, or... just something worse than a smack to the bum for misbehaving. Howling, the boys sobs woke Keith and his husband came racing in to see what was wrong

"Lance! What happened!? Shalad, are you alright?"

"Lance hit me!"

"Lance?!"

Striding over, Keith lifted Shalad into his arms, looking Lance up and down

"Baby, what happened?"

"That kid poured something over the floor, and stayed to watch me slip!"

"No I didn't!"

"Then explain why the floor is slippery, and why you giggled when I fell"

Cradling his rebusted wrist against his chest, Lance glared at the boy

"I didn't do anything! He fell on his own!"

"Baby, are you sure you didn't trip over your own feet?"

"Are you serious?"

"I'm just..."

"No. I'm sick of this! Shalad, I tried to meet you half way, and I tried to give him a loving home, but you've been so naughty since you got here. That's why I smacked you on the bum"

"He hit my face too!"

"I didn't hit you face. There's no mark on your face at all!"

"Lance, don't yell at him"

"So what? You believe him over me?"

"I didn't say that"

"You didn't have to"

"Baby, you're over reacting"

"Yeah, because hurting my wrist again and smacking my head is so funny. I tried. But I will not have you in my house if you're going to misbehave"

"Keith... he's scaring me"

"Lance, you need to calm down so we can talk about this"

"Talk about what! How I can't even sleep in my own bed?! How I can't even talk to you without him kicking me or him calling me weird"

"He's a kid and you're an adult..."

"It's because he's a kid that I let him get away with it! I'm not staying here"

"Lance..."

"Stop saying my name! You can stay here with him, but I'm going to the castle!"

"Baby, its the middle of the night!"

"I know! I haven't been able to sleep because the sofa is so cold!"

"Why... why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I was trying to do what was best for Shalad and Fern! I wanted to spoil them and let them know what a loving family felt like!"

Limping past Keith, his husband tried to grab his arm... his right arm. Sending pins and needles shooting right up to his shoulder

"Lance"

"Just stay down here with him"

With a busted wrist, two boys and a baby, it was a nearly impossible trip to the castle. Fern was against his chest, with a Kelance on his hip, and Laneith laying over Fern. Every few steps he had to stop to the reposition Laneith so neither he or Fern fell. Hobbling into the castle, each step was accompanied by a whimper as he made his way to the pod room. He wanted someone to look after the pups, but he's left his communicator down at the house. Because the boys could make more and escape than Fern, Lance left the tiny girl on the centre platform of the pod room and climbed into the first available pod with the boys. His last thought being that of his omega, pained by the rejection and disbelief of his mate.

When Lance existed the pod, Allura was there. The woman holding Fern as she stared up at him

"Lance, are you ok? What happened? Is that blood on your face"

"Allura... I think I messed up..."

Rising, Allura walked over to him and wrapped an arm his waist

"What happened?"

"It's not working out with Shalad"

"What do you mean it's working out? Where's Keith?"

"With Shalad..."

"Let's head to the lounge room, you can tell me what happened"

Nodding, he let himself be silently guided by the woman.

The lounge room was thankfully empty when they arrived. Sliding in beside Allura, Lance rested his head on her shoulder. Placing Fern down on the table, Allura took Kelance from his hold

"What's been happening? You've been acting very strange lately"

"I've been bullied by a five year old"

"Shalad?"

"I was trying not to say anything. The kid lost his mum, so I thought he was acting out because he didn't know how to deal with what he felt, and because he wanted attention... but Allura, I don't know what to do. He's been practically bonded to Keith's side, and every time I get near Keith, he'd stomp on foot or something small and stupid like that... so I just tried to ignore it. Tonight he poured something on the bathroom floor, and when I slipped and hurt myself, he laughed. So I smacked his bum... he started crying and howling, telling Keith I hit his face and stuff. I didn't want to hit him, but he needed to know that this kind of behaviour isn't acceptable. Keith said I was overreacting. He's my husband and I can't even talk to him about what happened"

Allura let out a long sigh

"I don't know what to say"

"Right! I mean. This kid saw his dead mum. He can't go home and he's surrounded by strangers. He's got to be so lost and confused, so I tried to let it slide, and Keith's been so good with him, probably because he was an orphan until he found out Krolia was still alive. He just gets it... and that's what Shalad needs, but what if I'd been carrying one of the boys? They could have been seriously hurt"

"I think we should talk to Keith and Shalad"

"And say what? I know I'm 19, but I'm being bullied by a 5 year old... you know, a little kid. I shouldn't be so affected by a kid!"

"Lance, Shalad needs to know what he doing was wrong. You said you fell?"

"I redid my wrist, and I hit my head"

"How are you feeling now?"

"The pod healed my wrist, so it's fine now"

"That's good. I should call Keith"

"Forget it. If he really cared he could have come and found me"

"Then you should rest..."

"I'm so tired I'm over tired. I was sleeping on the sofa so Fern had the spare room to herself and so I wouldn't miss the boys crying. I haven't slept properly in days. I'm just so tired"

"All the more reason you should sleep"

"What if the boys need me? Or Fern?"

"Is she taking the bottle yet?"

"It seems to depend on her mood..."

"Why don't we go to the medical room? It's the closest place with a bed"

"But the boys"

"The boys seem pretty tired to me, and I'll call Coran"

"I'm sorry for dropping this on you. I just feel so frustrated"

"You'll feel better after a good nights sleep"

"That's if I can fall asleep... will you stay with me?"

"If you'd like me to"

"I'm so sick of being alone"

"Then I'll definitely stay"

"Thanks Allura, and thanks for actually listening... without laughing or anything"

"I think Shalad needs a good talking to. We can't possibly let him be adopted while he thinks this kind of behaviour is acceptable"

"He also destroyed one of the dataslates and he drew over one of the pups books in red marker"

"Boys will be boys"

"My boys are not going to be like that..."

Making their way to the medical room, Lance climbed into bed wearily. He was so exhausted that he could barely keep his eyes open, and the weight of the thick blanket covering him felt heavenly. Placing the twins up against him, Lance nuzzled against Kelance, kissing his son's cheek. Behind him, Allura sat with her weight against his back and her hand on his hair, pressing a small kiss to his temple

"Get some sleep"

"Thanks Allura..."

"You're welcome"

Waking to low voices, Lance realised his friends were there. The pair whispering back and forth, while he tried to fallback to sleep. He still felt like quiznak, but the excitement of all the people in the room had woken the pups, and he realised he'd been woken by their wriggling. Yawning, the room went silent

"Lance, bud, you awake?"

"Yeah... you guys disturbed the boys"

"Oh. Are they ok?"

"Mhmm... how long was I asleep?"

"Around 12 vargas. I gave Fern a bottle, and the boys one each when woke up earlier"

"Wow... I didn't even notice"

"You were really out of it. Are you ok? What happened?"

"Allura didn't tell you?"

"She said you were in a pod..."

"I slipped and hurt my wrist again"

"You slipped?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Where's Allura?"

She said she'd stay, but now she was gone...

"Fern started crying, and she didn't want to disturb you. She's only just left"

"And Keith?"

"He came to visit, but Allura asked him to give you some space. Did you two fight?"

"Something like that. Things aren't working out with Shalad, and Keith wouldn't listen to me"

"They're not working out? He seems fine with Keith"

"That's because he is. I don't want to talk about it... I just want to go back to sleep"

"How about feeding the boys first? Are you up for that?"

His breasts felt full and heavy, not surprisingly given how long he'd been asleep

"Can one of you help? I can't brain"

"Can you even brain"

"Ha. Ha. Pidge, you're hilarious"

"Don't worry bud, I got you"

"Thanks Hunk"

With awkward and clumsy movements he got Laneith to latch... while Hunk held Kelance

"So what did I miss?"

"Shiro's finding us more missions, he wasn't happy to hear you were in here"

"I don't see why he has to worry. I'm already healed up"

"Because it's you. Um... Keith came up... we haven't heard from Ryner and Coran is off doing what Coran does"

"And Six?"

"She's somewhere. She's gone prowling the castle and will come back when she's ready"

"Or after she's eaten Allura's mice"

"Six wouldn't do that"

"I wouldn't put it past her"

Making no attempt to cover his yawn, Lance hung his head

"Quiznak I'm sleepy"

"I think we don't have anything planned. You already missed morning training, so you can go back to sleep"

"Oh, I'm going to. I just want to make sure the boys are well fed"

"They've gotten so big"

"5 phoebes will do that. I can't believe it's been 5..."

"It seems so much longer"

"I know. Ugh. My head hurts"

"You've got dried blood down your eyebrow"

"Probably because I hit my head"

"Have you ever thought about not getting hurt?"

"I wish. This wasn't even my fault"

"It wasn't your fault?"

"Shalad put something on the floor so I'd slip. He even waited around for it to happen"

"Wow. Did not see that coming"

"He hates me. Everything I've tried to do to help hasn't made any difference"

"Is that why you and Keith had a fight?"

"Mhmm"

"Maybe it's because you lost another pup? Maybe he's using Shalad to ease the pain?"

Lance forced down a deep breath. It seemed like everyone knew... stupid Keith!

"Guys, I didn't want anyone to know about that, and I don't want to talk about it, so please don't bring it up again"

"Sorry, I was just thinking out loud"

"I know. It's still not something I want to talk about. As for Keith... I've never seen him like this with a kid. I don't know if it's because he couldn't save the kids mum, or because he's an orphan like Keith was, but it's not working"

"Maybe you should talk to Shalad?"

"Allura's going to sit in when I talk to Shalad and Keith. I smacked his bum for misbehaving, and he tried to say I hit him across the face. Keith told me I was overreacting, but... I redislocated my wrist... I had to carry all three kids up here because I don't trust them being in the same house as Shalad"

"It'll be ok bud. We'll work this out"

"I hope so. I just don't want the boys or Fern getting hurt... and I want to help him. He's lost enough"

Keith wasn't sure how it had all come to this. Shalad firmly denied causing Lance to trip, but his husband had been hurt bad enough to wind up in a healing pod, and then the medical room. Even Allura seemed to think Shalad had been to blame, politely suggesting in her diplomatic manner, that he head to the games room with the boy until Lance was ready to see him. He knew Lance was going through something, his husband had been distant but every time he'd try to talk about it, somehow Shalad would get his attention and then the moment was gone.

By the time Allura came to fetch them, they'd gone through three movies, all of which he'd had to explain to Shalad. The kid had panicked each time there was "violent" scene, hiding against Keith until it was over. He didn't doubt the kid was a good kid, but maybe he needed more help than him and Lance could provide. Carrying Shalad up to the lounge room, he found Lance sitting there alone, his husband chewing his lip as he stared down at his hands

"Keith, why don't you take a seat?"

Gesturing to the opposite side of the table to Lance, Keith forced himself not sit by his husband. His heart was racing and a sick feeling had filled his stomach. Whatever he was going to hear, he had the feeling he wasn't going to like it. Sliding in beside Lance, Allura wrapped her arms around him

"It's ok Lance, just tell him what happened"

"Shalad, I know you've been through a lot, but lying and intentionally hurting people because you're hurting is bad. Keith and I wanted to provide you with a loving family, we invited you into our house and so far you've been incredibly naughty. Last night, I smacked you bum for it, and you told Keith I hit your face. I was seriously hurt by what happened. You knew my wrist was busted, but falling again damaged it again. I had to bring my kids up here because I was scared you would hurt them. Do you understand what I'm saying"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Shalad, tell me the truth. Did you cause Lance to slip? Did you hurt him?"

"He doesn't even like me! He doesn't even care about me! He's only nice 'cause he wants to look good for you! He hates me!"

Kicking out, Shalad tried to get away from him

"Shalad! Stop!"

"No! I don't want to go!"

"Shalad, we just want to understand"

"I want my mum! You're not my parents! My mum's dead! I want my mum..."

Breaking down crying, Shalad kept trying to escape his hold as Keith lifted him into his lap

"Lance, what else has he done?"

"Keith, maybe now isn't a good time"

"No offence Allura, but Lance has been distant for days. Lance, what else has Shalad done?"

"Just small things. Kicking me if I tried to sleep next to you. Stomping on my feet. Calling me weird and gross for being able to give birth. Pouring water on me. He covered the bathroom floor with something and he laughed when I got hurt. I was trying to let it go, but what if I'd be carrying one of the boys? Or Fern? They could have been seriously hurt"

Keith's heart dropped. Shalad had been so good for him, that he couldn't believe he'd been so bad

"Shalad, you know what you did was wrong, don't you? I don't think you're a bad kid. You wanted to help your sister and your mum... so do think you can say sorry to Lance?"

"No! He wants to take you away! He hates me"

"I don't hate you, but you know that Keith is my husband. We are going to kiss and cuddle, because we love each other. I know you're hurting, but hurting me isn't going to make you feel better"

Shalad cried against him, the boys small body shaking

"Baby, I had no idea..."

"I know you didn't... I'm going to stay up here until Ryner sorts something out"

"Baby, you should stay down in the house. Things will be different now"

"How? I've been sleeping on the sofa, freezing cold because I didn't want to be in the way"

"Then till stay here while you go home"

"It doesn't feel much like home anymore. Just take Shalad back down to the house. We'll be fine without you"

Ouch. Wincing, Keith wanted to reach out and take his husband's hand, but Lance was completely pushing him away

"Lance..."

"It's fine Keith. We should do what's best for Shalad, at least for now. Allura, I'm going to head back to nursery"

Leaving them alone, Keith didn't know what to do. He'd only agreed to take in the kids because Lance wanted to. But things hadn't worked out... maybe Ryner should take him back? But then what? The kid became someone else's problem? He was alone and hurting, and it felt like he was the only on Shalad could lean on... the kid was an orphan like he'd been, so he knew what it was like to feel alone... but if this was costing him his marriage, he couldn't do it. Lance came first, and he'd hurt his husband deeply. Thinking hard, his heart dropped again. That first night. When Lance had been high. He'd tried to tell him he needed him in his own drugged up way... Lance had been hurt and instead of insisting his husband stay with him, he'd rolled over and let Shalad share the bed while Lance had slept on the sofa alone... that's when it all started going wrong. He hadn't even thought it weird that Lance wouldn't stay for bath time with the boys. He'd put it down to his injured wrist, not that Shalad was helping during bath time... he had a hell of lot of making up to do to his husband.

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