#and i can attest that if this continues for longer than a few months...your brain will alter itself in a way that it automatically does

[wetslug]

i warned yall last year that tic content online might cause more issues for the OP + viewers and now its a studied phenomenon that is being researched so :///

if i can speak to my younger followers.... if you know you’re empathetic,  or often take on the behavior of your friends/fave characters, or already have a psych history...dont watch these videos. i know theyre interesting/entertaining/are popular online but just dont take the chance. if youre interested in the advocacy or the disorders themselves its much less risky to find written content thru blogs, FB groups, etc 

[classywritings]

Euphoria

Originally posted to Ao3. This is part 2 of my 2019 Halloween specials. Within this AU, Joker is a vampire.

A crash startles you awake. Jolting up in your bed, your sleep-blurred vision immediately turns to where the source of the sound came from. You swear under your breath and reach for the lamp at the side of your bed to turn it on, but, a foreign hand snaps out and stops you.

“Wh”—

Another hand reaches forward, keeping you from crying out in alarm. You whimper, body shaking as your blood pumps hot throughout your veins. However, it’s quickly soothed when a pain filled voice whispers.

“It’s only me, treasure.”

Slowly, the hand at your mouth goes away. You keep silent, though, listening for any sound that someone is aware you’re no longer alone in your room. Outside the wind blows gently against the walls of your dorm as the occasional falling leaf brushes against the window. No other sound is heard, making relief wash through you. The last thing you want is someone coming to investigate the crash that sounded in your room. At the same time, you also thank the heavens you got lucky and don’t have a roommate.

“Joker,” your murmur, reaching out to the male as you shift to sit on the side of the bed. He’s breathing heavily, which is unsettling. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

He doesn’t say a word, instead only hovering close to you. You can feel his body heat all around you, keeping you sheltered from the chill of your room in the absence of blankets. You pull yourself closer to him, reaching out. He’s shivering, too, which is even more worrying than his silence.

You purse your lips. “Sit down, please. You’re worrying me...”

Being gentle, you help the male sit down beside you. An arm wrapped around his waist reveals him to be even worse off than you thought. Not only is he shivering and breathing heavily, but you swear you feel...

Ignoring the chill in the air as you step away from Joker, you move to turn on your lamp. He doesn’t stop you this time, but when you turn back to him his gaze is squarely upon you. You ignore than in favor of staring in wide open shock at the male’s ruffled appearance.

“Oh my god. Joker, what happened?!”

The dark colors of the male’s outfit hides most of it, but there's still no mistaking the dark patches of blood across his body. The majority of it flecks his torso as parts of his sleeves and undershirt have clearly been ripped and is showing skin. The most worrisome thing, however, is the fact the wounds you can see haven’t healed yet. As far as you’re aware, Joker’s accelerated healing due to being a vampire should have kicked in already, but it clearly hasn’t.

“I’m...” He grimaces as he shifts his position. “I’m okay.”

You stare long and hard at him. “No, you’re not. Don’t try to lie to me. Why haven’t your wounds already healed?”

Finally, the male looks at you. It’s a gaze filled with such pain that it makes your heart break a little. You’ve never seen him like this; he’s always so calm, smooth, and confident around you. “I was attacked by a vampire hunter,” he says slowly. “Their weapons are laced with a poison that affects my healing abilities.”

Your eyes widen. “Is… is there a way to reverse it?”

Once again, Joker looks away from you. You see him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He has stopped shivering and is instead sitting straight as a board, looking as if he’s going to bolt at any second. Just to make sure he doesn’t, you move closer to him. This only makes him stiffen further, but you'd rather him be uncomfortable than have him bolt on you.

“Well? You know I’m willing to do anything to help.” Carefully, you reach out to grab one of his gloved hands. He lets you take it between your’s, but still doesn’t make eye contact. “Please, Joker.”

The male inhales slowly, then lets the breath go heavily after a few second pause. Even more slowly, his eyes come back to your own gaze, meeting it with such an intensity it takes your breath away. It’s further stilled when a deep ruby color takes over the dark gray of his irises. “Drinking blood is the only way to counteract the poison,” he whispers.

Oh. Oh.

Such an answer should’ve been expected in your mind, yet your head refuses to wrap around it. You stand there, your hands still holding one of Joker’s. He doesn’t move, just watching you with that silent intensity.

It’s now your turn to gulp. Your stomach flip-flops anxiously, but you push it aside in favor of rising determination. Carefully, you sit yourself down upon Joker’s lap, also letting go of his hand. Once comfortable, the male loosely wraps an arm around your waist, his eyes narrowing in obvious confusion. Any other time you’d laugh at such an expression, but this time you just smile instead.

“Well, allow me to help you, than,” you say, gently smiling still. Joker gasps audibly, which draws that small laughter out of you. Before he can protest, like he clearly wants to, you speak again. “I told you: I’m willing to do anything to help. Even if that means drinking my blood.”

Red eyes search your own, his free hand rising to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes tenderly over your skin as he continues to search for any hesitation. When he finds none, he pauses, his lips pursed once again. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “Positive. I trust you.” Joker has snuck away and into your room many nights now. His first visits were brief, yet, due to his insistence on visiting, the male had grown on you despite the little amount of time spent together. He clearly had no bad intentions—he just wanted to visit someone who didn’t want to see him arrested. And once he had found out you were a fan of him and his merry band of thieves, he started coming over almost every night after their heists.

After a month of visiting, he entrusted you with an even deeper secret. Only his fellow thieves were aware of this; you were the first outsider to be told he is a vampire.

Then, it wasn’t until a few nights ago you found out why he decided to visit you in the first place. He had caught your scent while out on a heist. It had intoxicated him so much he followed it all the way to your dorm, where you slept peacefully. It explained why you awoke with a start that night, feeling like you were being watched in your sleep. Apparently he made a hasty, silent retreat when you awoke, but had vowed to himself to see you again and greet himself properly to you.

All this gathered together, you trust the male. You may not know the identity behind the mask, but that doesn’t matter. Joker is a thief, but honorable and compassionate. His actions alone are enough to attest to that.

Joker closes his eyes and when he opens them again the ruby is a much brighter shade than before. “It will sting when I first bite you,” he murmurs, his thumb circling the skin of your cheek again. “I will make sure it doesn’t hurt any more than that.”

You nod, that being all you can reply with. Once again, you hold your breath. This time it is in anticipation for what is to come. Joker stares into your eyes for a moment longer before he pulls your body flush against his. You gasp, it stuttering as you feel warm breath fan across your neck. A full body shiver possesses you, goosebumps rising up wherever they can. More further rise up when you notice the hand that was upon your cheek has moved into your hair, it entangling in it gently.

You resist the urge to swallow, still waiting with bated breath for Joker to do anything more. His breathing still fans across your neck as he seems to almost hesitate.

“Joker?” You inquire, unsure. Your response is a subtle peck of warm lips to your neck. You stiffen, your eyes widening. A few seconds pass before another small kiss is laid to your skin, then another and another. A deep exhale is stuttered past your lips as you shakily wrap your arms around the male, drawing yourself impossibly closer to him. His kisses should be soothing, yet, they only make your heartbeat skyrocket.

The hand in your hair scratches your scalp as the lips trail up to your ear. The tension in the thief’s body has completely disappeared. It seems to have leapt onto you instead. “Easy now, love,” Joker whispers into your ear. This eases your tension slightly, but it isn’t enough for the male. He pulls away, looking at you warmly. “Are you sure that you want to do this? I can feel your anxiety...”

It’s your turn to look away, a bashful color making itself known on your cheeks. “I already said I’m willing to do anything. I just… I just thought you’d bite me and get this over with.”

A low chuckle catches your attention. Looking back at Joker, you see him grinning impishly. You stare hard at him, almost gasping when you see a glimpse of his fangs. His red eyes are such a bright carmine they almost seem to be glowing now, too. “Ah, but where’s the fun in that, treasure?”

You gasp finally, caught off guard when the male swoops in for a kiss on the lips. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up with the present, but once it does you reciprocate. Your hands grab a fistful of the male’s long black coat to gain some sense of grounding, otherwise it feels as if you may float away.

Much to your silent dismay, the kiss doesn’t last long. Soon enough Joker pulls away, his head burying back into your neck. However, his lips don’t leave your skin as he continues his exploration of it. You’re putty in his hands as you wait for him to finally do what you’ve been waiting anxiously for.

He doesn’t make you wait much longer. He kisses your skin a few more times before you feel him hover his mouth over where you can keenly feel a vein in your neck pulsing. The only forewarning you receive comes in the form of a growl before a sharp pain makes itself known to you.

You almost cry out in pain, but a hand snaps out and encloses over your mouth. Instead all you can do is cry into the larger, gloved hand. You squeeze your eyes shut, the pain seeming to last an eternity, even if it is only a few seconds. When it washes away you still don’t relax, however, sitting deathly still in Joker’s lap. You must’ve calmed somewhat enough for the male, for soon you hear a low, crooning purr from him.

You hold still, yet, you notice something as the seconds tick by. There’s no more pain—actually, you feel something else entirely. Euphoria slowly settles over you, which makes your body relax from its tense position and your breathing settles into slow inhales and exhales. You’re not sure if it’s a side effect of your blood being taken or if Joker and his vampiric abilities have something to do with it. You’re starting to wonder if it’s the latter, though, considering he did state he wanted to make sure you felt no pain after the initial bite.

When Joker pulls away, you bury your head into his neck. “How do you feel?” He asks you. All you can reply with is a hum, which makes the male chuckle. “Good, I imagine. That’s all the better.”

His lips attach back to bite, but when his fangs sink into your flesh again no pain makes itself known. Instead, all you feel is a wave of warmth wash through you. It makes you groan quietly, shivering once again. Joker growls in response, and presses his body to yours insistently. Your eyes are squeezed tightly shut as the euphoria continues to wash over you, masking the slowly rising dizziness.

After a few minutes and with a rippling growl, Joker pulls away from your neck. You stay where you are, having no energy to move. It’s hard to miss the rigidity of his body. He must be holding himself back from drinking any more. A good thing, too, for your sure your dizziness would’ve gotten worse had he gone on any longer.

“How are your wounds?” You ask him. Normally you’d pull away to inspect them yourself, but you’re doubting you’d be able to check him over properly with the state you’re in.

“Completely healed. Thank you, treasure.” He kisses your forehead as he relaxes. Your grip on his coat falls slack, exhaustion creeping up on you. It’s only furthered as Joker strokes your hair and rubs soothing patterns into your back. “I feel much better, as well.”

“That’s good.” You nuzzle into his neck, humming. “‘M happy to have helped.”

Joker chuckles, kissing your cheek. “Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll watch over you while you rest.”

Your vision begins to darken further as you feel sleep begin to cocoon your consciousness. All you can reply with is a simple “okay” before unconsciousness takes you.

The next morning, you awake to the sound of heavy rain pattering against your dorm’s window. Groaning, you roll over onto your other side and stare blearily at your clock on your nightstand. You’ve slept in until almost noon. Thankfully you’re classes aren’t until later in the afternoon today.

Slowly, you sit up. Your eyes trail across your room. You see no sign of anything out of the ordinary—no thief is around to greet you.

Suddenly, your eyes catch sight of something on your desk. Curiosity rising, you walk over to it, your eyes widening when you see what awaits you. Joker may not be here to wake you up himself, but a gift placed carefully on your desk is enough to speak of his presence.

Mindful of where you touch them, you pick up the bouquet that’s settled on your desk. Hydrangeas, gardenias, and red roses make up the large set of flowers, and they’re all tied together with a black ribbon. You eye to bouquet with a smile while your hand trails up to healing bite mark on your neck.

“You’re welcome, Joker,” you mumble to your silent room.

[faveficarchive]

Up in the Air: Part 1

Book Two of That Healing Touch Series 

By K.Darblyne

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: PG-13

Synopsis: Garrett is five months in to her fellowship, and she and Danni are trying to change the game even more, all the while strengthening their bond. 

Chapter 1

The warming water danced along her body like spring showers over newly budding vegetation. Her long form was like a harboring reservoir as the tiny drops of water built up in its dips and cervices and then allowed them to cascade down her limbs and trunk. The warmth of the shower made her think of how much she had come to think of her new family here in Pittsburgh. It was as though each of them had extended a welcoming embrace to her, with that small blonde nurse being right at the heart of the matter. It had been a long time since she connected herself with anybody, yet to think of someone as family. The surgeon shook her head.

Garrett Trivoli had only been in the city five months but it felt more like home than anywhere she had ever lived before. Her time in college, medical school, residency, or the Navy had no holds on her like this place. It was proving to be very different, this year of Fellowship for her. More than she expected. It wasn’t the job or the training that she was impressed with, it was the people who went out of their way to make her feel as if she was a part of them. And she was more at home with the petite blonde than anyone.

Garrett thought about the warm-hearted nurse, Danni Bossard, who had talked her into sharing her house when the new Fellow found herself seeking a place to live, joking about being homeless. The surgeon thought about how appropriate that it was for Danni to have short golden hair. It made her think of the nurse’s unending heart of gold, always giving and caring about others before she ever thought about herself.

A lopsided smile came to her face as she thought about the woman. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t see all of the similarities before.’ She shook her head and continued her shower routine, lathering as she went. ‘It was my brother telling me all along. She’s the soul to replace him in my life.’

She no longer had sadness in her heart when she thought of him. She realized that life goes on, and that for every soul that leaves us, one is sent to take it’s place. It’s just that we have to carry their essence with us until we find that replacement. "Maybe Rene had something there? He did ask me to open my eyes." She chuckled as her mind was pulling things out of the last five months and creating a new order for them in her brain.

Her colleague Rene Chabot had teased her that he would even turn Jewish if it would help her to find someone special. She thought about his tall, thin frame and that rugged French-Canadian accent of his leading prayers at a Synagogue and laughed out loud. ‘I could see you better cast as the Yenta in the Fiddler on the Roof, Chabot.’

Then there was Karen, the E.R. Charge Nurse at night. Mom, as they all called her, had gathered her into that E.R. family, which she was the matriarch of, without a second thought, even though their first meeting was almost life-threatening in nature. Garrett wondered about her own mother, had she lived. Would she have been like Karen in some respects, always the tough disciplinarian on the outside with a soft spot for a heart on the inside?

The surgeon turned off the shower as she reached out for a towel. The sound of music was filtering into the bathroom. ‘Danni must be up now!’ She smiled and thought about the woman who found nights too long when working, but way too short when she was able to sleep through them. "I bet this early morning stuff is going to put a serious dent in her restfulness." Garrett cracked open the door and yelled out, "You better get some livelier music on, my friend. That is, if you want to get up." She paused before continuing with her toweling off, waiting to see if she was heard.

The sound of saucy Latin music was her answer. The lively beat causing even the surgeon to begin moving to the music as she dried off; the towel snapping as she reacted to its rhythm. Her mind filled with thoughts of Rosie, the auburn-haired nurse that was another pseudo-daughter of Mom’s in that growing E.R. family. She had been the outspoken one in the E.R., always riveting to the action of the night. Her loud acclamations of landing a distinguished doctor had only set her up for a fall again with this year’s candidates. Garrett looked down at her own body and sighed, ‘Too bad, Rosie. I guess the name just didn’t have the right body attached to it for your liking.’ She raised her eyebrow at the concept of being a male. Then, just as quickly shook her head, "Nah!" She liked the body she had been given, besides she was finding it quite comfortable.

Garrett continued on with her morning ritual as she readied herself for the meeting that both she and Danni were to have with Dr. McMurray. Her mind thinking about all the people that were making her life different from what it had been. Never would she have dreamed of feeling at home again. Yes, she had found some very good people here in the "’Burgh".

**************

The lively beat of the music was doing its job. The slow movements of the woman were beginning to show more life as her eyes began to open and survey the dimly lit bedroom. "By the gods! The sun isn’t even awake yet," she cried. Then she remembered what today’s meeting was to be about and her mind took on a new attitude. ‘Ah, yes! That meeting with Dr. McMurray about the proposed project.’

Her mind conjured up the image of her tall, raven-haired friend. The demanding perfectionist of a surgeon had scared them all, except for her. She wasn’t quite sure what it was about Garrett, but she knew that underneath the entire attitude was a really good person. "Yep, glad I called that one right.’ She smiled at the thought. ‘I bet she didn’t even know that she carried that baggage around with her all these years.’

As Danni closed her eyes, she could see the interior of the dimly lit cabin, the dark form sitting huddled in front of the fireplace, just staring into it. ‘I’m just glad that you bared your soul to me that night.’ She chuckled at the thought. ‘Not to mention your body, too!’ She could feel her face flush with warmth at the thought. ‘Oh! Better not go there.’

The nurse’s mind jerked her thoughts from the surgeon, to that of getting her small frame up and out of bed. She threw back the covers and found her dream journal tucked neatly where she had left it, under the extra pillow to her right. She picked it up and fingered the cover as she contemplated reading a passage or two. Then, deciding that she didn’t really have any time for it this morning, she placed it on the nightstand. She had her favorite passages and those she knew by heart. She let her mind recount them in her head. Her favorite one of all being that of the fierce, dark-haired warrior with the twinkling eyes. There wasn’t much more to remember. The dreams never lasted longer than a moment or two, and usually occurred right before she was waking. ‘If only I knew what they stood for. Maybe someday they’ll all make sense.’ "I’d better get a move on," she mumbled as she let her feet go over the edge of the mattress and on to the floor. She grabbed her robe and headed for the bathroom.

******************

She wasn’t quite sure whether it was the excitement of beginning the project or the anticipation of the meeting with the Chief of Trauma Services, but Danni was ahead of schedule for a daylight shift. Her morning was moving along rather nicely as she waited for Garrett to finish up in the bathroom. The half-cup of coffee left in her mug attested to that. She never would drink coffee at home in the morning, simply because she couldn’t get up in enough time to fix it and drink it, too. But Garrett, now that was a different story. The woman was an early riser. The routine of her mornings could be timed and viewed with the precision as any close ordered drill in the military, each second planned and executed without delay.

She settled into the comfortable, overstuffed chair in the living room. Danni liked the fact that she was able to relax a few extra minutes and slowly sipped at the creamy brown liquid that was completing her morning wake up. Her thoughts drifted to the upcoming meeting with Dr. McMurray. She thought about her apprehension the last time and decided not to let her nerves get the better of her. It didn’t make for a good impression of their team when one of them had to be pushed into the office while the other had to be physically dragged out of it. ‘Never thought that I could do that one.’ She flexed her biceps and laughed.

"What’s so funny?" Garrett asked as she passed through the room on her way to the upstairs. She dropped her duffel at the foot of the stairs as Danni began to answer.

"Nothing, I was just thinking about how strong I’ve become." She flexed her muscle once more and pointed at it. "See?"

The surgeon shook her head and continued up the stairs. "I’ve just got to get my toiletries for the night. I’ll be right down."

"Okay, I guess that you’re on-call tonight." Her voice trailed off as she made a face, wishing that she could be there all night, too. She contemplated the next twenty-four hours, or more, for the surgeon when the ringing of the phone disturbed her thoughts.

"I’ll get that, Gar," she yelled and made her way to the phone on the hall stand.

"Hello," she greeted the caller.

"Oh, Dan! I’m glad that I finally got a hold of you." The voice was full of life, as her younger sister always was.

"Yes, Brie. It’s me. You’re up awfully early. What can I do for you?" Danni liked her sister, but she knew what the phone call was going to be about, her missing Thanksgiving Dinner with the family. ‘Well, I made my choice and they’re going to have to live with it.’

"I was wondering why you didn’t come home for the holiday. Mother was very disappointed that we weren’t all together. You did remember that it was Thanksgiving last Thursday, didn’t you?" Her tone was sharp as she tried to show her sister what she thought. She paused, silently waiting for an answer.

"Danni," the husky voice called out from the second floor. "I can’t find my razor, do you have one that I can borrow?" Garrett stood patiently at the top of the stairs.

"Who’s that yelling?" Brie was quick to ask.

"Hang on a minute, Sis." Danni laid the phone down on the stand then crossed to the bottom of the staircase. "I have a spare one in the top drawer of my nightstand. Go ahead and take it. I’ll get some more at the store later this week."

"Thanks." The surgeon called back. "I owe you one."

The petite woman returned to the phone with a smile on her face. ‘I like this new Garrett even better.’ It was amazing how much they were growing to rely on one another. Taking a breath to bring her mind back into focus, Danni spoke into the receiver. "Okay, Sis, I’m back. Now, what was that question?"

"Never mind the question, I want to know who that was?" Brie was surprised at what she had heard over the phone. ‘Now, why would anyone want to borrow a razor? Unless…’ Her mind raced with possibilities until she heard her sibling start to talk.

"That was just Garrett, Brie."

"Garrett…Garrett who?"

"Oh, Dr. Trivoli, one of the Trauma Fellows this year." Danni’s voice was clear and without hesitation.

Then her sister took on another avenue of pursuit. "I guess that’s the reason you weren’t at dinner?" She smiled to herself. ‘Way to go, Danni. Mother always wanted a doctor in the family. We all knew you’d come around.’

"Ah…yeah, Garrett pulled that holiday to be on-call, so I volunteered to work, too. That way we ate together and Gar didn’t have to be all alone." Danni was proud of herself. She had answered with the truth and was feeling good about it. No more caving in to her family’s wishes. She was bound and determined to stand on her own.

"So you and this doctor are getting pretty friendly I see." Brie was testing the waters, trying to see just how much information she could extract from her sister without it being considered prying.

Garrett was standing at the bottom of the stairs now, putting her toiletry bag into her duffel. She motioned to her watch to signal her friend of the time, then whispered. "I’m leaving in two minutes, are we driving in together?"

Danni nodded her head and picked up her keys, shaking them in full sight. "Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you, Gar moved in with me a couple of months ago. Hey, Brie, I really got to run now or I’ll be late for work. I promise I’ll talk to you soon. Okay?"

"Yeah, get going, but we have to talk, and soon." There was a bit of urgency in her voice and Danni readily picked up on it.

"As soon as I can, Brie. Nothing’s wrong is there…with the pregnancy, I mean?"

"No, nothing with the baby. Now hurry before you’re late. Bye." She lingered on the phone line, straining to hear any other clues as to what was going on in her sister’s life.

"Bye," the nurse said, then called out to the waiting surgeon as she replaced the phone on to its cradle. "Okay, let me get my coat and I’m ready." ‘Well, that went better than I anticipated. She must be mellowing with the second pregnancy.’

Grabbing her coat as she passed by the chair that it was thrown over, she quickly put her arms into it and worked at the buttons as she went out of the already opened door. Pulling it closed behind her, she checked to make sure that it had locked and then went down the steps trying to catch up to her friend.

The nurse pushed all thoughts of the phone conversation out of her mind. It was going to be a big day and Danni wanted nothing to overshadow it.

**************

The tall surgeon had quickly begun her day as she accepted the trauma pager from her colleague. The ease with which she and Rene had at handing off to one another made others believe that they had been associates for a long time. It seemed that since Garrett had stepped foot into Pittsburgh, her whole life was changing for the better. So often her earlier days in medicine had been met with challenges by the mostly male dominated profession. They had all considered females to be inferior to them and therefore only tokens to keep the equal opportunities people off their backs. Oh, how she had proven them wrong. Her intent was to be the best and nothing less. That is where all of her energies were channeled, to her studies and to honing her skills as an aspiring surgeon.

Now, her efforts were beginning to pay off. She was at the top of her learning experience and had an excellent mentor in Dr. McMurray. She knew that what he had confided in her that first day on the job was true. Her technical skills were impeccable. It was her people skills that she needed to work on. ‘Thank the gods, for Danni.’ Her mind turned over how the petite nurse was making such a large impact on her life. It was as though fate had planned this move for her and there was nothing that was going to change it.

Garrett fidgeted behind the metal desk in her small office. She was growing nervous about the meeting with the Ol’ Cutter. She thought about his nickname, it seemed so appropriate for someone of his medical stature. McMurray always made her more aware of the world around her each and every time he started to talk about one of his photographs that decorated the large office, or his experiences in previous operative procedures. They were taken directly from his life and travels with his wife during his budding career. In a way, it was like learning from a wise old soul.

For a moment, Garrett turned very introspective and thought about what she would have to show of her early days in medicine as she imagined herself as Chief of Trauma Services sometime in the future. She looked down to her hands, the only thing that really symbolized her career thus far. "Maybe I should have them bronzed?" She joked. She could see herself now, trying to make a point, any point, and always reverting back to the bronzed hands. Sighing, she thought about it. ‘I guess they’re only good when you reach out to someone. I can see that talk becoming pretty boring after the second time.’ "Hmm…guess I’ve got a lot of reaching out to do."

Her thoughts were disturbed by the soft rapping on the office door. She looked up pensively from her hands. "Come in," she called out and waited to see what needed her attention now. She was relieved to see the face of Dr. Kreger, the Chief Resident on her service today. "Rob! What can I do for you?" Her voice was sincere. She actually liked her colleague and was glad to see that his initial fear of her was being overcome. She got the impression that he was a sponge trying to soak up all of the surgical skills that she could possibly show him. She liked having him on her trauma nights, especially now that he was coming into his own as a surgeon and finally realizing it himself. The importance of having confidence in yourself was necessary in this field, it added to your maturity and the sooner you learned it, the better you could become.

"I just stopped in to tell you not to worry about the meeting with the Ol’ Cutter today. I’ll cover the E.R. while you’re in conference with him." Rob winked in the knowledge that McMurray’s conferences were never short, his stories always taking precedence over time.

Garrett let her lower lip extend into a pout. "And I was going to hope for the trauma pager to go off," she teased. Her face took on a more normal expression as she nodded in acceptance. "Thanks, Rob. I appreciate that."

"Well, I know how much this project means to you. Say, if there is anything that I could help with…." Rob noticed that the Trauma Fellow’s expression was changing to one of happiness as her eyes began to twinkle in delight before she attempted to reign in her emotions, showing only the stoicism that she was known for. Her intermittent gaze distracted him as he followed it, turning to see what she was focusing on right past him. There, in the doorway, stood the blonde E.R. Nurse, Danni. Kreger’s voice stammered slightly as he continued. "But I…I���see that you probably have more help than you need already." He acknowledged her presence with a dip of his head.

Garrett spoke, her eyes still transfixed to Danni, "I’ll keep you in mind, Rob."

"Okay, I’ll…I’ll just go check in on that patient from earlier this morning. Good luck with McMurray." The Chief Resident excused himself to Danni as he made his way out the door. To be truthful, he felt a little awkward in that small office, especially standing in-between the two women. It was strange. He almost felt that he was intruding on something but just what, he wasn’t sure.

"Thanks, Rob!" "Thanks for the offer." The pair called slightly out of sync as he started off down the hall.

The nurse stepped into the room, her hand lingering on the doorknob. "Hey, Gar," she greeted her friend.

"Hey," was the return as the surgeon allowed the lopsided grin to take over her face. "You’re a little early, aren’t you?" She looked down at her watch. It was 0940.

"Yeah, well, tell it to my stomach. I don’t think those butterflies know how to tell time." She held on to her midsection and grimaced. "They started getting flighty about twenty minutes ago."

"Hmmm…" the surgeon looked very serious in thought. "Would you like me to write you out a script for some compazine? It will settle your stomach right up." Her eyebrow raised in question as she opened a drawer searching for a prescription pad.

The blonde hair quivered as the nurse shook her head, "No, I’ll pass this time." She then ventured further into the small office and closed the door. "Gar, do think that they accepted the whole proposal?"

"Well, I guess we’ll find out when we get the official rundown from McMurray in just a little while." The surgeon watched her friend as she was deep in thought. "Hey, this is really worrying you, isn’t it?"

"It’s just that I’ve never done anything like this before. I mean, write a proposal and all." She shrugged her shoulders. "I feel a little…" she searched for the right word to use, "overwhelmed by it all."

Garrett smirked at Danni’s insecurity. ‘You…insecure? Hardly!’ "Well, if I were you, I’d get used to it. I have a feeling that if we pull this project off, McMurray and the Board are going to expect more from us." ‘I’m sure of it. He’s into that damn teamwork thing. I know it.’

"Let’s just see what he has to say first, then maybe my stomach will settle down a bit and I’ll feel better." Danni bit at her lower lip then spoke. "Do you think we could change the subject? I mean, just for a few minutes."

"Sure, what do you want to talk about?" She was curious now, was it just Danni’s nerves getting to her or did she have something genuine on her mind. "Anything in particular?"

‘Okay, it’s now or never.’ "Have you given any thought as to what you’re going to do after your Fellowship year is done? I mean…where you want to practice?"

"I’ll be honest with you, Danni. I’ve been too busy just getting through this year so far to really give it any kind of serious thought." The surgeon noticed the disappointed look on the face of the woman. "Why do you ask? Does it make any difference?"

The blonde casually shook her head, keeping a disinterested look on her face now. "No. I guess it doesn’t." ‘YES! Yes, it does! By the Gods, please don’t let her leave.’ "I was just wondering if the project would continue without you being here, that’s all." ‘I wonder if McMurray will expect me to continue it without you.’

"I really think that to give it any chance to do some good, it’s going to take more than just a couple of months to even get it off the ground. I don’t think that they would discontinue their support without giving it a fair shot." ‘She may have something there. Maybe I should plant my feet and stay a while, just to get it going. Hmmm…what do you think, Lucas?’ Garrett thought about her brother, after all, it was he that had brought her to this point in her life anyway. ‘I wonder, what exactly it is that you have planned for me?’

The small office was silent with the somber thoughts of the two women. Each one trying to figure out what role they played in this ongoing puzzle of their lives. Each one wanting to keep the other in sight, yet knowing that sometimes friendships are made only to be lost in the events of life with all of its comings and goings. Whatever happened to them down the road of life, each one knew that the other would always be there for them, if only in their memory.

The petite nurse raised her hand to wipe an isolated tear from her eye, as she thought of life without her ‘Amazon’. It would be lonely again just like before. In an effort to distract from her motions, she began to speak. "So, don’t you think we better get up to Dr. McMurray’s office. We don’t want to be late."

Garrett nodded her head. "Yeah, let’s show him how eager we are." She looked over at the nurse. "Danni, am I going to have to push you inside this time or are you walking in with me?" She teased.

"What do you think?" Her tone was defensive and her body reacted to the challenge, her balled fists now rested on her hips. "I was just…just a little taken aback by how big that office was last time, that’s all." She tried to make an excuse for her previous shyness at their last meeting. "Now don’t be silly. You’ll see. I’ll follow you right in." She winked and wrinkled up her nose, still a little shy about being in the presence of such a powerful player in the hospital politics.

The surgeon got up from her desk, moving to the door where she stopped before opening it. Then, with Danni filed in behind her, she softly stated, "Oh, so that means that I’ll be pulling you in after me instead, eh?"

The tall woman quickly let her long strides move her body just out of reach into the hallway. The small nurse was still in the office doorway as she tried to swat at the surgeon in a playful fashion for the comment. The joking banter that ensued as they made their way to the meeting place was like music to their ears and put both of them very much at ease. All thoughts of coming or going were gone and only the time at present would fill their minds. Somewhere along the way, Danni forgot all about those pesky butterflies and just enjoyed her time with her friend.

*******************

The snow was blowing across the driveway in little whirlwinds of flurries. The year was fading fast into winter and the cold weather was being more than generous in its down pouring of the white ground covering.

McMurray stood transfixed to the window, taking all of the conditions into account. His mind still drawn to that warm sensation that he felt when he saw the excited look on his new team’s faces when he had told them the good news on Thanksgiving. He laughed and shook his head at his own doings on the insistence of his wife. ‘I ought to have my head examined. The Chief of a whole department braving a snow squall on a holiday just to pass on some news to a nurse and a Trauma Fellow.’ "Bet they never expected to see me," he grunted. ‘Guess I did look kind of funny being all covered with snow like some arctic teddy bear all bundled up.’ His face was one of disgust at the thought of being a teddy bear, all cute and cuddly. It was not the persona that the Ol’Cutter would like to be thought of. After all, who would respect and fear a teddy bear?

The intercom buzzer sounded, putting an abrupt end to his thoughts. The irritation was evident in his voice. "Yes! What is it?"

"Your ten o’clock appointment is here. Shall I send them in?" The voice of his secretary squeaked and crackled over the intercom, the transmission barely audible.

‘I don’t understand why in the age of computer technology we still can’t get a better system installed in this hospital. That system was probably new in the late 1950’s.’ He glanced over at his desk and the note that was jotted on his daily calendar sheet, a reminder of a problem that needed to be addressed if the proposed project was to get off the ground. ‘Well, at least they’re eager. I wonder how long that will last when they find out what they have to do?’

Several minutes had gone by without a response from the man on the other side of the door. The secretary was concerned that her transmission had not been heard. As she leaned forward in preparation of rebroadcasting it, the mechanically disjointed sound of McMurray’s voice filled the room. "Send them in."

The older woman rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You can go in now, Dr. Trivoli, Nurse Bossard."

Danni could feel the wings of those butterflies coming to life as she edged closer to her tall companion. She found comfort in the quiet reserve of the surgeon. Their eyes met as they each assured one another of their conviction to the project. Garrett had already plotted their course and now it was time to set sail. With renewed vigor, the surgeon stepped forward into the large office as the nurse followed closely behind, pausing only to close the door.

With the team intact, they stood silently before the large desk, waiting for the Ol’ Cutter to acknowledge them. They exchanged several sidelong glances between them as they waited to hear what Dr. McMurray had to say, the nurse and the surgeon both wondering what held his attention as he stood peering out of the window. The first sound that they heard coming from him was that of a deep sigh.

A moment passed before his voice slowly asked the question. "Do you believe in fate?" He didn’t wait for either of them to answer him. Instead he continued with his own thoughts for them to hear. "I used to believe that I controlled my own destiny until I learned a valuable lesson. You’re always at someone’s mercy.

You just have to hope that you can fulfill their needs first before you can fulfill your own." He shook his head as he started to turn to face them. "Enough about philosophy, you want to hear about that proposal of yours. Right?"

The two women were confused by his opening of philosophy, but were eager to find out what they were going to be doing at the Board’s request. The quick flickering of their eyes from one to the other was all that McMurray needed to see to know the answer to his question. "Well, let’s get down to business then. Take a seat." He motioned to the two cushioned chairs that faced the front of his desk. "We’ve got some things to discuss."

Danni and Garrett took their seats without hesitation and sat leaning forward in an ever-attentive manner as they watched the burly man settle into his own high backed chair.

The Ol’Cutter eyed them up, one at a time, then smiled rakishly as he began his speech. "The Board liked the idea and commended you both for the proposal. You have their full blessing and authority to proceed with your plan. The other departments have been instructed to give you all the support that you feel is necessary."

He watched the faces across from him, as each one took the information into their beings. As a team, they covered both ends of the gamut, Danni whose face was beaming with excitement, and then there was Garrett who seemed more reserved and hesitant. ‘Hmmm…one balances the other. They will be a good team.’"In other words, you have carte blanche on the project. It’s all in your hands. You’ll report directly to the Board."

The blonde became shell shocked as that last statement settled on her ears. It was more than she had hoped for. "WOW! Talk about teamwork!’ The butterflies had subsided and an euphoric feeling was rolling across her being now. The petite nurse was so pleased that her friend would be given a chance to heal and, in the process, help others that needed it too. The shimmering of her green eyes was evident as they bounced from Dr. McMurray to her surgeon teammate and back again. "Why, that’s great news. Don’t you think…" Danni looked at Garrett’s face and stopped dead in her thought.

The surgeon narrowed her eyes and gazed across the desk, completely intent on studying the man on the other side. Her mind thought back to Thanksgiving evening when McMurray made the surprise visit to them in the E.R. He had casually mentioned something about getting a lot of rest to them before he left. ‘Something about the Board having plans for us…’ She reached out her hand until it came to rest on Danni’s, causing the nurse to pause and look at her friend.

"Danni, I don’t think that’s all the Board has in mind for us. It’s too good to be true. There has to be a catch somewhere."

The nurse thought for a moment then slowly realized that Garrett was right. "What do you mean by a catch?" Her face turned solemn as she waited for the answer. She looked back and forth between the two surgeons and waited.

It was like a game of poker between the two surgeons, where the stakes were all or nothing, and each one trying to outwit the other before showing their cards. The stoic masks dropped over their faces in an effort not to divulge their thoughts as each one wondered who would be the first to speak.

Finally after several minutes went by, Danni spoke up as she tried to mediate an end to the childish behavior. "Come on now, we’re all on the same team here I thought." She got up and physically stood in the middle of their gaze, putting an abrupt end to the stand off. ‘These two have to have been made out of the same mold.’ She placed her hands on her hips and demanded their attention. "Now, is someone going to tell me what this is all about? Or do I have to give you both a time out?" ‘If you want to act like children, I’ll treat you like children.’

She glared at them both taking turns from one to the other. The shocked look on both of their faces made her think of whom she was dealing with. Suddenly Danni felt small and insignificant as she stood with the Chief of Trauma Services on one side of her and the perfectionistic Trauma Fellow on the other. ‘By the gods, I’m making a fool of myself.’ She smiled politely and moved slowly back to her chair, apologizing for her interference. "I’m sorry, but I just don’t think this is getting us anywhere. Do you?" She collected her composure and waited for the storm to break around her. ‘Why did I ever think that I needed to get involved in this?’ She wrinkled her nose and sat quietly waiting for any kind of response.

McMurray was stunned by the nurse’s actions. He could tell by the look on Trivoli’s face that she was, too. ‘Good God! She’s got moxie! She’ll do all right.’ The man just shook his head in disbelief. "You think that you could work closely with her on a permanent basis, Trivoli?" The Chief nodded in her direction.

Danni bit at her lip, waiting for Garrett’s answer. She prayed that it would be to her liking.

"Perhaps I should ask what you mean by closely before I answer that." Garrett found herself intrigued by the question.

The sound of a half laugh and half grunt was all that came out of him as he smirked at his underling. "You have good reason to ask," he acknowledged her. "Seems that the Board liked the numbers that you two have when you work together. Ian McCormick may not be an ideas man but he knows his way around the numbers." McMurray rubbed his chin. "The Board is willing to give you what you want on your proposal if you do them a favor."

Garrett eyed him cautiously. "What kind of…" she toyed with the word, "favor…would that be?" Her voice was cold and calculating. She thought of all the possibilities in an endless list of scenarios. ‘I’m a damn good surgeon. What more could they want?’

McMurray drew in a deep breath. He knew that what he had to say was not going to be received well at all by either of them. ‘I just hope that they see the merit in all of this.’ "All right! The bottom line is this. The Board wants you out of the O.R. on a regular basis for the rest of you Fellowship." ‘Okay, time for the volcano to erupt.’

"They’re idiots!" ‘My life is the operating theatre, how can I walk away from it?’ Garrett’s eyes were turning to crystals of ice as she stared at McMurray, while her blood was quickly rising in temperature to boiling mad.

Danni quickly picked up on her friend’s outrage. "You’ve got to be kidding!" She looked jokingly at Garrett, small quips of laughter coming from her throat, then seeing the surgeon’s face unchanged and serious, she gasped. "You’re not! What kind of favor would that be for the Board or for the patients?" Her eyes shifted to McMurray as she searched for an answer. The blonde’s eyes penetrated deeply into the brown of the Doctor’s to see if he was serious.

He nodded. "It’s not what you’re thinking, although…" he paused for effect, "you may think differently about it when it’s over and done with. Why, look at all of the exposure you will get to different hospitals and surgeons."

The two women looked at each other then concentrated their gaze at him, each one raising an eyebrow in skepticism.

"And what exactly would you mean by that?" Garrett was first to ask.

"Yeah, what exactly?" Danni’s brow furrowed with worry.

"Let’s just say that you two," he laughed and pointed to them both, "are going to spend more time together than most married couples do."

"I don’t understand. What could that possibly…"

"Trivoli, you’re not paid to understand. You’re just expected to do your best in the environment that we give you." His ears picked up the sound of an incoming helicopter, the whirring of the blades getting louder as it sliced its way through the air in the distance. A smile came to the face of McMurray as he swiveled his chair to look out the window. ‘I couldn’t have asked for any better timing if I’d have planned it.’ His eyes followed the speck in the distance until it became clearly visible on its descent to the helipad outside of the E.R.

"The Board wants to draw some marketable attention to the hospital and what we do here. They all feel that their best bet is to capitalize on you and the good PR that you can bring, not to mention that you two aren’t lacking in the looks department." He gauged the landing of the helicopter outside and continued as he swiveled back to face them. "Everybody and their brother was hyped about the new millenium last year. Well, this New Year’s actually the start of that millenium with the date 2001. They want to use it to our advantage."

The noise of the spinning rotors was getting louder now as the Ol’ Cutter raised his voice to speak over it. "You, Dr. Trivoli are going to be our first Flight Surgeon onboard the helicopters and Nurse Bossard will be your team member.’’ McMurray theatrically swung his chair to face his window, just as the helicopter was hovering in its descent to the pad below. "Welcome to the new millenium of care."

The swirling snow outside the window gave the helicopter an eerie appearance. The eyes of both women were riveted on it, their minds in a quandary of thoughts.

Finally, after the noise of the helicopter had died down and the window was now devoid of any remaining reminders of it, Garrett spoke out. "You can’t expect me to operate in one of those. There’s not enough room to take care of a bad splinter let alone a trauma of any significant source."

"So, you’ve been in one…eh?" His voice was gruff but teasing.

"Been in one, hell! I’ve ridden in them when I was in the Navy and those were a lot bigger."

Garrett’s mind flashed with the scene of the military helicopter as it sat there on the flight deck of the aircraft carrier. The hum of the engine was gone, as were the members of the crew that had flown her in. Well, all except for the lone crewman that stood a silent vigil at the tail section. His eyes never left the sight of the tail rotor as it moved slightly with the rolling seas underneath the ship. She watched the man standing alone, noticing that he was mumbling from time to time to some unseen entity. The closer she came to the tail section, the more details drew her attention to the rotors. There, on one of the blades, were the stains of dried blood. Her naturally curious mind analyzed the pattern of blood splatters as her eyes searched for more. With only a few more feet to travel before she was next to the crewman, he turned toward her, revealing the remnants of bits and pieces of a human being that were still clinging to his uniform. He looked almost catatonic in his stare. The mumbling barely loud enough for Garrett to hear his isolated phrases. It took only a minute or two before she could piece together that the downed crewman had been his friend. His lips moved with words that only his heart had ever thought about before, professing the camaraderie that they had shared.

Danni was still in shock from the recent turn of events. Her mind trying to grasp at anything that could bring her back to something real and tangible. ‘They can’t expect me to ride in one of those. There’s nothing holding it to the ground.’ Her eyes blinked rapidly as her mind fathomed a plummeting airship. Then with a note of disbelief she stammered out. "You…You’ve ridden in hel…helicopters?"

The surgeons mind was pulled back to the present as she tried to focus her attention to the question. "Yeah, that’s how they got me from ship to ship when I’d have to replace a surgeon for any reason." She thought back on her Naval experiences, then smiled and commented. "It sure beat using a Boson’s chair." Her mind flashed with the scene of the blue green water of the Pacific Ocean churning below her as she made her way from one ship to another, belted into a chair that was tethered on a cable stretched between the two. The weather had been too rough for anything to be launched off of the Carrier. By the gods, how she had prayed that the Captains would keep the ships on course and matched in speed so as not to snap the cable, allowing her to be tossed into the ocean or worse. Garrett shuddered with the thought. ‘Don’t even want to think of that one.’

"Boson’s Chair?" The blonde was at a lose for an explanation. "I don’t understand. What’s so bad about a chair?"

Garrett thought for a moment trying to find something that the nurse would understand to compare it to. "It would be like sitting on a chair dangling by a cable stretched between two race cars. One wrong move and…"

"Oh, my!" Danni drew her hand up to her mouth as she tried to catch her breath. For the first time, the young woman was realizing just how sheltered her life had been. She could just see her mother’s reaction if that had been her. ‘Those times at the cabin were nothing compared to that.’ She remembered her fondness for climbing out on the limb of that old Maple tree as it overhung the lake and diving off it into the water below. ‘But at least the tree was planted firmly on the ground and when I dove in, the water cushioned my fall.’ She felt a shiver run up her spine at the idea of falling from the sky, untethered to the ground below and nothing to cushion the impact.

The nurse studied her tall friend who was now pacing the room. She could see the maturity that life and its experiences had brought to the surgeon and wondered why she was being exposed to all of this now. Danni looked up at the man who was eyeing her.

"You’re kidding, right?" She waited for an answer. McMurray only shook his head and smiled warily. Her shoulders slumped and she voiced a breathy but disappointed, "You’re not. The Board wants Garrett to fly into surgeries, literally."

"And you, too, Nurse Bossard."

"The Board feels that your presence in the air will be a highly visible marketing tool to the smaller hospitals in the area, a Trauma Surgical Team flying in to their world. They want your faces to be more recognizable than the presidential candidates." He further elaborated.

Danni chuckled at that thought. "Well, that won’t be hard." It was the nurse’s attempt at weak humor, her usual front line defense when she felt ill at ease in a situation. "But what am I suppose to do? I’ve never been in a helicopter. In fact, the last time that I was even on an airplane was…." The petite nurse gulped hard trying to settle her stomach at the thought, but the telltale pallor was stretching across her features.

Danni’s mind rehashed her only plane ride. It wasn’t hard to remember. There is only so much that one can commit to memory spending almost the entire flight in a catatonic state. Her fear of flying was not easily overcome. Rosie had tried numerous times to get her to come out of her self imprisoned denial of the flight, but Danni just couldn’t do it, or at least her mind wouldn’t let her. It had been the worst vacation that Rosie had ever had, not to mention the blonde nurse. Even after they had landed and she was back on firm ground, it didn’t ease up. The only thing that her mind kept focusing on was the return flight home. It not only effected her waking mind but also her sleep. Rosie finally conceded and cashed in their plane tickets for the return flight home after a second sleepless night. Danni thought about the little trip into her not so pleasant past. ‘I wonder if she will be able to understand?’

The eyes of the surgeon noted the change in her friend’s coloring and the uneasy look on her face. Garrett stopped dead in her tracks and slowly turned to face her mentor. Her eyes narrowed and she raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You…You want us to fly in and save the day at these little ass Podunk’s of a hospital and make the Board look like it’s reaching out with services to every little nook and cranny of the area." The surgeon’s eyes flashed with anger. "Whose idea was that, the accountant?"

"What’s the matter, Doctor, you afraid that you might have to interact with more people who don’t know your likes and dislikes?" McMurray looked directly at the tall woman. ‘Okay, call me a liar, but I know that’s part of the reason.’ "Maybe if you would put the patient first and not your damn need for perfection, then…" McMurray stopped and just stared at her. ‘Jeez, I just pushed that too far. She’ll bolt and run for sure now.’

Both women were studying his face now, trying to see where he stood. Could he seriously be considering this? The office was silent as all three stared at one another, then finally the silence was broken.

"Come on, Danni. We don’t have to listen to this nonsense." She turned and started to walk toward the door of the office as the nurse slowly rose to join her.

"You do if you want that proposal to become a reality." McMurray called out to her. Garrett’s outstretched hand hesitated on the doorknob as Danni froze in mid step and turned to look back at the man. "You do this for the Board and you have carte blanche with your project. It’s as simple as that." The Ol’Cutter got up and circled the high backed chair. "I know that this project means something to you both. Damn it! It’s that or nothing as far as the Board’s concerned."

"I’m not going to have our faces put all over the place. I’m not some publicity seeking egomaniac and neither is she." The dark-haired woman pointed to her friend and then just shook her head in dismay. "We don’t need to be high profile in our jobs. Flying in a helicopter is dangerous enough with the blades looming overhead and the jet fuel onboard. We don’t need to be on the lookout for crazed fans, too."

"Is that your concern, fans? I’ll tell them that the PR is for the hospitals only and not to go to the general public. Will that help?" McMurray sat down and waited for an answer.

"Gar…er…Dr. Trivoli, maybe we should think about this." Danni looked pleadingly to the tall surgeon. ‘How bad could it be…I mean she only has six months left to the Fellowship. I just know that the project would help her, too.’ There she was, putting her friends and others before herself, once again.��‘Now, really, how many flights could they need a surgeon on? Maybe I’ll feel better in a helicopter…Yeah, right!’ She rolled her eyes knowing that it wouldn’t make a difference.

Garrett thought about all the lonely people that the project could bring out of their depression and agony of being the one left living after a family tragedy. ‘If I can’t do it here, I’ll just wait and do it somewhere else after this year is up.’ She looked over at Danni. Those green eyes were speaking in volumes that were screaming into the surgeon’s head. ‘By the gods, how can she be so giving? I bet she doesn’t even understand all of the hazards that she’s asking me to let her be a part of. Why, if anything were to happen to her….’ The tall woman pursed her lips and licked her teeth as she thought about the situation. She weighed the pros and cons in her mind as she occasionally stole glances at the blonde woman in front of her. She was probably going to regret this one day, but she didn’t have the heart to say no while she was looking at those hopeful eyes. ‘I’ll just have to make sure that she’s well prepared for this endeavor. By the gods, I don’t want anything to ever happen to her.’

"Oh, all right!" She muttered and walked back over to the chair then sat down. "But there’ll be some things ironed out here and now, first." She’d go through with it but only on mutually agreed upon terms.

The nurse’s happiness was piqued at the idea of her friend getting the help and support that she’d need to deal with her past experiences. Danni smiled, allowing her nose to wrinkle up in delight. She patted her friend’s arm and quickly assumed the role of mediator in the ensuing peace talks.

********************

It was nearly lunchtime when the petite nurse and her tall companion emerged from the office of Dr. McMurray. Neither one looked truly happy, but they were rather satisfied that an agreement had been worked out. Danni had done her best to keep the tempers and the egos from gaining any footholds in the negotiations. Garrett’s main concern was for both her and her partner to be properly trained and readied to assume the roles of a flight crew. The surgeon was not one for improvisation when the lives of her crew or their patient were at stake. The nurse had also pointed out that the time spent indoctrinating them into the routine and workings of the helicopter crews would only add to their PR potential. One mistake in the public eye would not only discredit them but the hospital as well.

Danni was glad that the compromises were ones that everyone would be able to live with. ‘Well,’ she thought, ‘almost everyone.’ She still wasn’t sure that she would be able to do it, but she was willing to walk through hell if she had to for the support group to become a reality. ‘I’m not about to be the cause of this not happening.’ She thought about her nice and easy world as she was used to it. It was never going to be the same. At least not for the rest of the time that Garrett Trivoli was here in Pittsburgh. She sighed at that thought and felt the butterflies once again coming to life in her stomach.

Garrett’s mood was somber and thoughtful as she matched strides with her friend while they walked away from the office. She was pleased that she had stood her ground enough to get them the training that they would need to be a cohesive team. She realized that it would be taking away from her time in the O.R. but didn’t want to chance any unforeseen problems with her new friend. The surgeon cast a wayward glance in the nurse’s direction. ‘I bet she’s scared to hell and back.’ She was amazed at how much she was finding out about this woman. More than she had known about anybody in her lifetime. ‘Lucas, you’d be proud of her. She’s just like you, following me wherever my path leads.’

Chapter 2

The days seemed to fly by with little or no effort on the part of Danni. Her mind was being kept occupied with thoughts of everything but her normal nursing duties. First it was the rigorous physical conditioning that started off each and every morning for both her and the surgeon. It was to give them better strength and endurance for the days ahead. At times, she wondered if they were ever going to see a patient again. Thanks to the Cardiac Rehab Unit, they were able to use the indoor walking track each morning before the daily patrons made their way to it. With the weather turning more and more towards winter, it proved to be a blessing in disguise. She just couldn’t imagine herself being pried out of her nice warm bed to run out of doors. At least this way she was able to wake up a little first without the help of the elements.

They were already into the second week of their training when they were informed of the demands on their time for additional classroom periods and mock flight simulations to round out their days. If anybody had thought that this was going to be a piece of cake, they were badly mistaken. Danni could remember her days in nursing classes in college and thinking that they were tough with little or no time for herself. Now she found herself wishing for those days once more. They were cramming everything that they could into her, from how to use pieces of field equipment on the patient, to how to suppress the outbreak of fire in the helicopter while in flight. With each new day and skill that she learned, her admiration for the members of the EMS System and Flight Crews rose considerably.

At times Danni found herself enamoured with the thought of being a part of the "White Knight’s" team and swooping in with rotors-a-whirling to rescue the victim of trauma from the clutches of death. Then there were the other times, mostly at the end of the day, when all she wanted to do was just go home and die in a hot bath. Today was one of those. They had been learning to move patients on and off of the helicopter. It sounded easy enough, besides, she and Garrett moved patients in the trauma room all of the time. Boy, was there a difference when it was just the two of them and not an entire trauma team plus the medics to help. Garrett seemed to have no problem, but with the nurse’s petite frame and stature, she was finding muscles that she never knew existed as she tried to compensate for her size.

‘Gosh! I feel like every muscle in my body is crying for attention.’ Her body seemed to just melt into the warm water of the bath as she lowered herself down into it. The suds of the bubble bath encased her body as it passed through them.

Danni didn’t know whether her shoulders were sore from lifting the dummy filled stretcher in and out of the back of the helicopter or from the constant hunching over that they had to do when in the vicinity of the blades on the rotor. ‘I wonder how Garrett can keep up that posture?’ Then, when she thought of watching her friend in the O.R., standing stoop-shouldered as she worked on the patient. The nurse began to shake her head. "It figures! She’s used to it."

"Used to what, Danni?" The tall surgeon yelled out as she stopped outside of the door in the hall.

‘Caught, again!’ The blonde stuck her tongue out at the door. "Nothing, Gar. I was just talking to myself." ‘Sometimes I swear that she hears better than an owl.’ Then she laughed to herself as her mind played with an idea. ‘I wonder if Superman had a sister?’

"If that hot soak doesn’t loosen up those muscles in your back, I could give you a massage when you’re done. Danni…Danni…." Garrett listened for a reply but there was nothing but the sound of small splashes coming from the room. ‘Poor kid. I don’t think she realized that it was going to be this strenuous. I sure hope she isn’t going through all of this for nothing.’

The woman thought about all the things that they had been doing together as a team now. Each one learning more about the other without really trying to. When they worked as a team, their catalyst was pure instinct. ‘We’re either going to do this together…or not at all. I'll never find someone that knows my needs like she does.’

She started to walk back towards her room. The more she thought about the young woman that fate had brought into her world, the more Garrett realized how empty her world had been. ‘I don’t really think that I’d want to do this with anyone else.’ Then she smirked and shook her head. ‘Who’d be able to put up with me…especially in such cramped quarters?’

Garrett thought about the turbulent rides that she had in a helicopter, her mind then compared those to Danni’s growing motion sickness in the back of a swaying ambulance. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t let her eat before we take that first flight…just in case?’ The surgeon made a mental note to look back in on her friend in a little while then went to check on her mail.

Danni yawned, as her body was beckoning her to rest. The day was quickly catching up to her. Her body had finally allowed itself to come off of full alert status, and now…it needed sleep to heal and strengthen itself. The tired nurse succumbed almost instantly to the lure of the warm water as it swaddled her into sleep.

"Danni…Danni…" the throaty tones echoed in her head. "Ahhh! There it was!" Her muscles recognized that sudden feel of warmth as it stretched across her shoulders. Her flesh seemed to move willingly with the pressure as the strong touch molded her like clay in an artist’s hands. The gentle kneading sensations acting like a cosmic regeneration of some long ago depleted life force. Every change of direction causing the electrically charged particles to run rampant throughout her body, registering passions and delights beyond her realm of thought. She could feel her body tingling now as it betrayed her silent want to it’s very core.

Shadows of the night now loomed across her eyelids as the dark form called out to her from above. The outstretched hand summoning her with a warming sensation that would fill her body with its own language of the night, causing it to soar aloft in the sweet basking glow of the heavens as she floated amongst the clouds. Tender, so very tender was that soft, lingering touch that her body wanted nothing more than to melt at this very moment, never again to feel the need for another’s touch.

Her senses were dulled now as the last waves of exhaustive pleasure rolled through her body taking all of the aches and pains from her. She could hear the world calling to her and with a blurry eye, chose to slowly grasp on to her place and time. There, coming into a sharper view in front of her was the dark form, with beams of dazzling light emitting from around it. It seemed so surreal that it took her breath away, causing her to gasp for air.

"Danni, are you okay?" The voice whispered, trying hard not to startle her. The large but gentle hand reached out to caress her cheek again. "Come on sleepy head. I think that this hot soak has given you just about all that it can. Time to dry off now before you catch a chill." Garrett was sitting on the edge of the tub. Her tall form was towering up above the small woman as it blocked the overhead light from her eyes.

The petite woman felt unclear as to what was real and what had been part of her dream. She could feel an inner peace within herself as her mind acknowledged the presence of her friend. "That was nice," she purred in her wakening state. "Could we do that again some time?"

"Sure, anytime that you want." The surgeon spoke softly, not wanting to scare her. ‘She obviously isn’t talking about today’s activities.’ Garrett brushed a stray lock of hair from the woman’s face. "Well, by the look on your face, my friend, it seems to have done you a world of good, whatever it was." Garrett eyed her with a slightly raised eyebrow.

The blonde’s eyes were open now as her mind registered where she was. The loving expression that was on her face only a second ago now turned quickly into one of startled embarrassment. ‘This couldn’t have been real, could it?’ She asked herself as her eyes searched for a towel. Danni was finding it hard to avoid Garrett’s gaze. "What do you mean, whatever it was? Didn’t you just massage…I mean…offer me a massage?" She looked into her friend’s longing stare and realized that nothing had transpired between them. ‘No, just a dream, that’s all it was.’ Her shoulders slumped at the thought of missing the warming touch of her friend.

"Here," Garrett held the bath towel out for her to take. "It looks like you’re pretty relaxed right now. Maybe next time." ‘Maybe next time I should give her the massage before I let her bathe?’ Then getting up as she sensed the embarrassment that she had caused, "I’ll…I’m just going to go to bed now. I’ll see you in the morning." Garrett hesitated before moving toward the door, letting her eyes wonder across the flexed shoulders with just hints of clinging bubbles remaining on the delicate skin.

The nurse watched in amazement as the door closed once more leaving her alone. ‘By the gods! It felt so real.’ Danni lifted her body partially out of the tepid bath water, allowing the cooler room air to give her a chill. Her arms automatically crossed over her chest in an effort to stave off the multiplying goose bumps on her skin. "What the…?" The blonde woman looked down at her nipples that were already hard and raised. She hung her head and sighed, then mumbled under her breath. "Danni girl, you’ve got it bad. Real bad!"

********************

The night was winding down to the pleasure of the E.R. staff. It had been a little hectic at the start of their shift last evening but soon cleared out around 2 A.M. when the traumas started to roll in the door. There hardly ever seemed to be a slow time anymore. When all the rooms were emptied out and the last trauma sent to Radiology for an angiogram, the staff tried to relax.

Karen, the Charge Nurse, was finding it a little lonesome without her two pseudo-daughters around. She hadn’t seen either of them except for a quick pass through of the E.R. on their way to the gym or the classroom for the EMS Services. Her girls both looked fine except for the hurried look on their faces as they waved and yelled a warm hello in her direction, never pausing or breaking their step as they continued off into the world of helicopters.

It was a little over two weeks now and even Rosie was showing signs of an empty nest syndrome. The spirited nurse was looking at the door in anticipation of her friends’ arrival. "It’s funny how you get used to people being there and then one day, they’re just not." She looked kind of funny at the older nurse next to her. "Mom, are we ever going to get Danni and Garrett back…I mean…to the E.R.?"

Mom just shook her head in disbelief. "Weren’t you the one that wanted to crucify her on July first?"

"Well, yeah, but that was then. She ain’t so bad once you get to know her a little." Rosie shrugged her shoulders.

"And we have Danni to thank for that not so small feat." Mom sighed.

"You miss her, don’t you, Mom?"

Karen sniffed back a tear and nodded her head slowly. "Yes, I do. I miss them both." She hesitated, and then continued. "I even miss you, too, Rosie, when you’re gone for a length of time."

Rosie opened her mouth to answer that but just stared at the door instead. Then glancing over to Mom, she whispered. "Well, don’t look now, but the prodigal daughters just walked in." Her face was turning into a smile.

"Huh? Oh…ah…" Karen was trying to peer over top of the computer screen at her desk. Then the two familiar figures came into sight and her mind felt at ease. "Hi! How are you two doing today?"

The pair walked toward the desk, as each one, in their own way, waved and greeted the group, calling out their names as they came into view. Danni felt like she was coming home with all of the faces smiling her way.

Finally the question was asked. "What, no quick wave and run through of the E.R.? You two doing something different today?" Rosie was just being her usual smart aleck self.

Garrett raised her eyebrow at the remark. "Like we actually have a choice at what’s planned for us." The tall surgeon was not at all enthused about the day to come, and it was evident.

Danni just shook her head. "It’s not going to be that bad now, Garrett. Let’s try to be positive about this."

"I am. I’m positive that I’m not going to enjoy this morning."

"Why? What do they have planned for you this morning?" Mom asked, looking directly at Garrett.

The tall surgeon coughed and talked at the same time, causing her words to be mumbled and unintelligible.

"What did you say?" Mom looked at the uncomfortable posture of the surgeon. "Come on, it can’t be all that bad. Just say it and get it over with."

Her voice registered low and slightly more than a whisper at first. "Publicity photos. We have to have the publicity photos done today."

The petite nurse reached up and rubbed her hand across the back of the leather jacket that Garrett was wearing. "Now it wasn’t that bad to say, was it?" She looked up at her friend, trying to get her to agree. "Garrett?"

The tall woman was noticing that Danni took every chance that she could to be touching the leather of her jacket. ‘Hmm…could she be liking this jacket that much?’ "I just don’t see what all the fuss is about. Why can’t they just use my hospital I.D. photo?" The surgeon took her wallet out of her pocket and proceeded to sort through it until her hospital issued identification tag was in her hand. "Now, tell me, what’s wrong with that picture?" She held it out for everyone to see.

"Dr. Trivoli, nothing’s wrong with it…if you’re already in jail." The older nurse could barely keep a straight face. The tall surgeon was part of her family now, and fair game, just like everyone else. "If you showed me this, I wouldn’t leave you anywhere near my drugs. Yeah, this would make for a wonderful press release." All attempts to keep from laughing were put to a stop as Mom openly started a contagious belly laugh.

The surgeon just shook her head from side to side. "I should have expected as much from you."

The sight of a man slowly walking in through the doors took all of Garrett’s attention away from the group. She didn’t know what was wrong with the man, if anything, but her gut feelings were that he needed her help now. The surgeon had learned a long time ago to follow her intuitions without hesitation and this time was no different. She took off abruptly for the man as she lobbed her open wallet at Karen for safekeeping.

Karen caught the wallet as the contents spilled out onto the counter. "Hey, I was only teasing you. You didn’t have to throw…" She looked up to see Garrett catching the slumping man in her arms and laying him down on the floor. "Oh my! Danni, Rosie go help her." Mom quickly gathered up the disheveled contents of the wallet and stuffed them inside of her lab jacket pocket along with the wallet. She quickly made her way over to the empty stretchers lined along the hallway and wheeled one over to the area of activity by the door.

The two nurses quickly dropped to the cold tile floor and joined the surgeon as they tried to evaluate the cause of his collapse. Garrett hastily ascertained his ability to breathe as Danni searched for a pulse. The only visible sign of trouble at this time was the trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth. Rosie busied herself with the removal of his bulky outer clothing as they waited for Karen and their mode of transport to the back hallway and the Trauma Room.

"Sir! Sir!" The strong commanding voice of the surgeon broke through the quiet of the area but elicited no response for the man at her knees. Faces of the staff now emerged from every corner and filled the desolate hallway. "We need a little assistance here." Her words sparked a flurry of motion as the staff rallied to help and together they lifted the weighty man up from the floor and onto the waiting stretcher.

Within seconds they were in the room set up for such emergent needs, with all of the necessary equipment at their disposal. The impromptu team all worked together to find the cause of the patient’s ill health, each one accepting their role in this life or death scenario without a second thought. They were all there for the patient and for each other.

Mom assumed her role as overseer of the flurried activity within the brightly-lit room. Her job would be to record the actions taken and their time of deliverance, along with anticipating any ancillary needs of the team before her. She knew her job and did it well. The arrival of a technologist from the Radiology Department was evidence of that.

Garrett looked up from her patient as the last remnants of his clothing were stripped off, only to see the familiar face of the X-ray Tech across from her, as she loaded a cassette for an X-ray under the patient’s chest. When their eyes met, she nodded her approval and continued on with her physical assessment of the downed man. Only seconds later did she hear the warning, "Clear the chest. X-ray!" She reflexively withdrew her hands from that area of the body as she let her eyes continue assessing the man’s condition.

Danni and Rosie responded in their usually coordinated manner of working together. It was as if they had never been separated for the last two weeks. The petite blonde nurse assuming the role of Trauma Nurse One, as she readily connected the patient up to the telemetry monitor and verbalized the initial readings, as each one became available. "Pulse 110, BP 100 over 76." She turned to double check the positioning of the finger probe for the pulse oximeter, "O2 saturation 94 per cent."

Rosie was right next to the tall surgeon as she was that first day of Garrett’s fellowship, only this time any thoughts that she had were strictly on the patient as she worked feverishly to gain I.V. assess in the patient’s left arm. "Okay, I.V.’s in! Sixteen gauge in the left AC." She announced without ever really thinking about it, as she placed the last piece of tape to secure it in place.

"Okay, no injuries showing on his anterior aspect. Let’s role him and check his back." Garrett watched as the staff opposite her log rolled the patient’s body into themselves to expose his back to her. The skilled eyes of the surgeon roamed freely over the entire expanse of the man’s posterior surface. There, just below his costaphrenic angle on the right was a small laceration. She gently inserted her gloved finger to see the extent of its penetration. ‘Hmmm…there’s his rib,’ she moved her finger in the opposite direction. ‘Feels like a downward direction to me. Look’s like I’m going to get some surgical time in today since the team hasn’t responded here yet.’ She tried to fight back the happy feeling of being in the O.R. once again. "Get us an O.R. room, Mom. He’s been stabbed in the abdomen." She removed her finger and motioned for the patient to be placed on his back once more. "Let’s hang a unit of O positive blood. Somebody put in a Foley catheter and finish drawing the blood work." She stepped back and removed her bloodied gloves. "Get him typed and cross matched for four units and send them to the O.R."

The surgeon came out of the scurrying room of activity to view the now processed chest X-ray. Her keen eye studied it making sure that there was no need for the insertion of a chest tube into the man’s lung.

"Would you like an abdomen film, Doc?" The technologist waited patiently for her reply.

"Huh…oh, yeah! Get that film and then we’re off to the O.R." Her mind went back to the X-ray displayed on the viewer as she studied it once more.

Karen stuck her head out from the room. "O.R.’s ready and waiting for you." She winked at the tall surgeon when she saw the pleased look on her face. "You miss it, don’t you?"

"Yes, I do." Her tone was somber and for the first time in her life she thought about what it must be like to know that you can never do or be with something that you loved more than you own life. ‘I hope that never happens to me.’

Garrett pulled herself back to the situation at hand and stepped into the room. "Let’s get up to the O.R. They’ve got a room waiting for our patient." She smiled as she saw the already assembled entourage in its first steps toward the door. ‘You just got to love these people.’ Her thought surprised her. ‘Never thought I’d be saying that.’ The surgeon stepped to the side of the stretcher as it passed her and matched her steps to the forward motion that had already been established.

Once the patient was on his way to the O.R., Karen finished the last of the charting and went back to sit at her desk up front. Being a Charge Nurse had certain duties to it, one of which was being relegated to staying in the department. ‘Well, the least I can do now is put her wallet back together again.’ She pulled the rather thin looking wallet out of her pocket thinking how appropriate it was for her pseudo-daughter to have. ‘Nothing heavy to tie her down.’ She mindlessly pulled out the assorted bits of paper and plastic cards that had fallen out earlier and tried to give them some order before stuffing them back into the wallet. She couldn’t help but noticing the absence of photographs so far. ‘Now, that’s odd. Mine is stuffed with pictures of my family and friends.’ Then at the end of the pile she came upon a worn and slightly tattered photo. She tried to make out the faces on it but just couldn’t seem to get them into focus. Mom resorted to using her arm to move the photo back and forth to get a better view of it as she concentrated on it.

"Hey, Mom! What you trying to look at?" The pleasant voice of Danni called over to her. She moved closer trying to see.

"Oh, these darn bifocals. You’d think that they’d help." She handed the photo over to Danni. "Here, see if you can make out who’s in this."

Danni took it and studied it carefully. "Mom, where’d you find this?" A smile was slowly coming to her mouth. Her eyes dancing in merriment as she recognized the strong features of her roommate evident on the youthful face in the picture.

"It was in her wallet. Must have fallen out when she tossed it at me." Karen craned her neck trying to see it. "Who do you think it is?"

"Well, the tall one is definitely Garrett," she turned the photo over and looked at the back of it. The youthful writing on it made the nurse sigh as she ran her finger over it. ‘Luc, and me 1980. I’ll be…’ She flipped the photograph over and stared down at it. "It’s her brother," the words slowly came out almost like a prayer.

Rosie’s ears perked up. "Tall, dark, and gorgeous has a brother. How come she’s been keeping him a secret? Let me see." Rosie moved to get a better look from over Danni’s shoulder. "Well, I’ll be." She let out a low whistle. "I wonder were I can find him now."

Danni hesitated as she worked out the numbers in her head. ‘Let’s see, She told me that she was seventeen when the accident happened. Hmm…that would have been…’ then she slowly spoke. "I think this was taken the same year of the accident." The blonde closed her eyes wishing that she could bring him back to her friend. She knew that Garrett and her brother were close but this photo only confirmed it more. ‘By the gods, how she must miss him.’ The looks on their faces and the openness of their posture with one another in the photo told her all that she needed to know. In her mind she just wanted to go right up to that O.R. suite and find the tall surgeon and throw her arms around her in an understanding hug for the loss of such a vital part of her friend’s life. The petite nurse considered it, but knew that the stoic woman would just think her crazy.

Their attention was broken with the banging of the fire doors as John walked into the E.R. The male nurse was considered to be the black sheep of the E.R. family, as his sleazy reputation afforded him. Seeing the women standing around he put on a lecherous grin. "So, you girls want to be the first ‘Maids of Desire’ on my new website?" He held up a shiny looking pocket camera and pointed to it. "It’s digital." The assembled nurses all cringed at the thought. "Danni, come on," he winked at her. "I’ll make you and that tall roommate of yours famous on the Internet. What do you say?"

Nothing ever changed with John. She’d been absent from the E.R. for two weeks and he still wouldn’t pass up a chance to try to seduce her. No ‘Hi! How you been?’ just right to the point of his warped mind. Sex, that’s all her ever thought about. Then an idea came to her mind and a sly smile trickled across her face as she looked up at the camera and back down to the photograph in her hands. She had an idea and John’s camera was just what she needed at this moment. "So, you want a picture of Dr. Trivoli…eh?" She fanned herself with the photo and wiggled her eyebrows up and down.

*****************

Garrett finished scrubbing her hands as she donned her sterile gown and gloves. She adjusted them into place on her way to the surgical table. She positioned the lights and accepted the first of the sterile draping towels to expose the area over the already Betadine prepped abdomen. Upon placing the last drape, she looked up to see the hurried form of her colleague Dr. Chabot enter the room.

"Ah, Rene, you’ve come to assist me." She nodded. "I was wondering who would be my second."

He grabbed at the gown and thrust his arms into it. "McMurray sent me in here. He said that you’re not to be operating." He was breathing hard from running up the back stairs from his office. "He said that you already have a job to do and that I should let you go do it." His eyes searched hers, pleading for her not to take out her wrath on him. ‘I’m only the messenger.’

The tall surgeon’s eyes turned to a steely blue and the nurse standing next to her could feel a change in the climate of the operating theatre, as her stare seemed to turn the air to ice. She wanted to explode on him but knew that it would do no good for any of them, her patient included. The favor that the Board had asked for came dancing back through her head. Her gaze lessened and she let her hands come down to her sides as she stepped away from the table. She was a woman of honor and that meant keeping her word.

Rene moved to replace her at the patient’s side. His eyes looked into hers as he thanked the gods above for not letting him be the brunt of her anger. "I’ll take good care of him, Garrett." He nodded in assurance as he readied himself to take over for her.

Garrett pulled off her gloves as she relayed the knowledge she had about the patient and his injury site. She wasn’t used to walking out of an operating suite before the patient was even worked on. She made her way to the door, then turned and watched as the tall thin man guided his team to best serve the patient. ‘I hope that there’s something good that comes out of this next six months.’ Listening to the quiet direction of surgical equipment to use in the operation as Dr. Chabot began the surgical incision, she pulled open the door and left the operating theatre. ‘I better not keep my job waiting.’ She pulled off the gown and threw it into the first debris container that she passed as she made her way out of the O.R.

****************

The bright lights were making the small blonde perspire as she stood waiting for her friend. It wasn’t going to be a physically strenuous day, but the heat of the lighting was sure to sap her strength. She could feel herself becoming anxious as she wondered how Garrett was making out in the O.R.

"Okay, I’m strapped for time. Set up for the individual shots." The man working with the camera was directing his assistants now. "Somebody give her that flight suit to put on. Come on now, we don’t have all day to get this shoot done."

Danni was handed the dark jumpsuit and directed to the entrance of the changing room. She walked through the studio taking in all that she could see. "Jeez, who would have thought that all this would be in a hospital."

The young assistant just laughed at her awestruck wonderment. "It’s actually not that much, just a big old room with some lighting and a few background props. I’m sorry, my name is Ronnie." She smiled at the blonde.

"I’m Danni, one of the…" Danni twisted and turned to see everything as she went by it, never finishing her introduction. "Is all this for us?"

"Nah, we do all the PR photos for the research and the special events that the medical staff is involved in." She stopped and opened the door to what Danni thought was a closet. "You can get changed in here. Just come out when you’re done. We’ll be waiting for you."

"Okay." She accepted the directions and entered the changing room, then paused. She stuck her head back out of the door saying, "Thanks, Ronnie. It was nice meeting you."

"My pleasure. You’d better hurry and get changed." The young woman looked around for the Photographer. "He hates to be kept waiting," then motioned with her head in his direction.

Danni nodded as she closed the door to the changing closet. She held out the bundle and let it unfold before her eyes. There wasn’t much to the uniform. It was nothing but a jumpsuit with a multitude of zippers and Velcro pockets all over it. After dressing quickly she looked into the mirror and had to laugh. She placed the flight helmet on her head. The mirror reflected back her image, making her look more like a miniature version of a space man. She started out the door only to find the high top jump boots reaching almost to her knee. She just shook her head and continued on. "I guess that’s the price you pay when you’re short.’ She thought of her tall, well-proportioned friend. "I bet she makes these look like a million bucks."

Danni made her way back to the group of people and found herself quickly positioned in a large area of emptiness, engulfed in lights, while hands reached in to tug and pull on her clothing and to arrange her hair. Within minutes she was the center of attention as everyone was talking to her and directing her as to how to stand and where to look. ‘Those models make it look so easy.’ The man with the camera circled around her, snapping and talking to her as he did. Just when she thought she knew where to look, they were yelling some other direction to her. ‘It surely can’t be this confusing for everyone.’

Then, finally from out of nowhere the shout came. "Alright everyone, take a fifteen minute break." The lights dimmed slightly and suddenly Danni was left there, standing all alone.

The photographer strolled over to the man seated in the corner out of the way. "You want me to give you an excited, accomplished looking subject for that PR release." He shook his head. "She looks more like a lost child out there." The photographer sat down next to the man. "Isn’t there someone else that you can use? I’m never going to get any good shots of this one."

Dr. McMurray nodded his head. "She’ll be alright. Danni’s a team player. She’ll do better when the other half of the team shows up." The Ol’ Cutter kept his eye on the young nurse. He could tell that she was floundering under the bright lights and all the attention.

She stood there with a questioning look on her face. It was like she was missing the other half of her soul and didn’t know where to find it. ‘I guess it’s not as easy as it looks.’ Danni looked up just as the tall figure came strolling into the room. She could tell instantly that her team member had arrived. Her face took on a new appearance and seemed to beam forth a newfound confidence in herself.

"Look!" McMurray whispered to the photographer. "That’s the image I want you to get."

The man quickly placed his camera to his eye and began to focus on the radiant women in the light. His face took on a new exuberance as he captured her on film, easily running through the roll in only a minute or two.

Danni never noticed the flashes going off around her. Her mind was only absorbed by the figure coming toward her. "Hey! Glad to see that you could make it, Doc." She smiled at her friend, still unable to see her in nothing but silhouette.

"Yeah, well, there’s not much left to do if your not allowed in the O.R." Garrett shrugged her shoulders. "I figured my job was down here."

The petite nurse reached out for her hand. "Come on. I’ll show you where your flight suit is."

Garrett felt the small hand in hers and a feeling of relief filled her. It was as if she was coming home after being away for a long time. She was no longer mad at being asked to leave the O.R., feeling that her place was here for some odd reason.

Danni turned to face the tall surgeon as she continued walking her through the maze of lighting equipment. "I’ve been waiting for you to come." Her face was full of love as her eyes met Garrett’s.

McMurray sat in his chair and smiled at what he was witnessing. It made his heart feel good to know that he was at the root of her change. With his vision obscured by the photographer making his way back over to the corner of the room, he lost track of the two women.

When he was only a step or two away, the photographer spoke. "So, who’s the tall, good looking one?" He motioned with his head toward the dark-haired beauty. "I’d like to get her on film. Heck, I’d like to have her, myself." He chuckled snidely.

"That, sir, is the other half of the team." The Ol’ Cutter turned to look at the salivating photographer. "And I don’t believe that you could handle her if you tried."

"A wild one, huh? What are they, your secretaries?"

McMurray curled his lip up into a smile as he nodded. "Head strong is more like it." ‘But I think she’s met her match.’ He thought about the two women and how they were coming together in their training and in their lives. He just sat there, a smile etched across his face. The Ol’Cutter wasn’t sure that the man could accept the fact that the pair of women he so loosely referred to were highly skilled caregivers. "My secretaries," he chuckled, "no, hardly."

Within a few minutes the tall woman had changed into her outfit and walked over to the lighted area with her flight helmet under her arm. Her figure was striking in the one-piece jumpsuit. Her tall form commanded attention and brought awe-inspired looks from the photography crew. She was all business as she asked where to go and what they wanted her to do.

Danni stood off to the side until directed to join her fellow team member on the backdrop area. They wanted a picture with the both of them standing side by side. Each of the women waited for the crew to address the small details of their clothing and hair. Their minds deep in thought as they tried to calm themselves. The photographer walked around them, letting his gaze wash over the entire length of their bodies. He snapped his fingers and pointed to Danni. The assistants scurried, rushing back with a small stool.

"Step on it." He directed the blonde. "Much better. Now you," he pointed to Garrett. "Come just a little closer to the lens." She complied and looked slightly back to her right at Danni. "Look at me, not her," he snapped. "Okay, now I want you to think of something that would make you very happy for Christmas." He positioned himself, watching the women’s faces in the viewfinder of the camera and waited.

‘Christmas, huh?’ Danni’s face lit up as she thought about the idea she had for Garrett’s present. ‘She’s never going to expect that. I’ve got to remember to thank John for his help.’

The tall woman’s eyes twinkled as she remembered her friend’s fondness for touching her leather jacket earlier in the day. ‘I guess I’ll call the closest Navy base for that. Hmm…I wonder if they even come in her size.’ The corners of her mouth turned upward as she imagined the look on Danni’s face when she opened the box.

The photographer quietly watched and at the appropriate moment began taking his pictures. After exhausting his roll of film he switched cameras and walked slowly around the two women.

His quick hand jerks and the snapping of his fingers brought the support crew to life once more. Ladders were being positioned and equipment was being moved to his constant directions. The two subjects of the photography session just stood there until his gaze turned to them and, with a flourish of hand motions, he dismissed them from their position.

Once on the sidelines of the activity, Danni watched as the backdrop that they had used was efficiently rolled up and another one was repositioned in its place. The crew moved in the ladders and swiftly moved several of the boom lighting stands out of the way. Ronnie and another crewman carried a pole with different lights attached to it and began climbing the ladders.

"Hey, Gar, what do you think they’re going to do with that?"

Garrett turned a watchful eye to the pair as they climbed to nearly the top of the ladders. "I’m not sure, but I guess we’ll find out."

"Come on now, I don’t have all day for this shoot. I want that up higher and over more." He waved his hands and cursed under his breath. "No! Not there. Over more Ronnie. Can’t you move it any further?" His voice sounded angry.

Danni felt like it was like a slow motion viewing of an event. She knew what was about to happen but had no way of stopping it. Before she could even shout out a warning, Ronnie was falling from atop the ladder. Within seconds the sound of the body impacting with the hard floor was reverberating in everyone’s ears and the lifeless form lay draped over the small stool that Danni had been given to stand on.

The photographer spun around to see the woman on the ground. "Jeez! Don’t go and bleed on the backdrop." His hands moved excitedly. "Hurry up, get her off of there."

The surgeon and the nurse sprang into action, each one sensing what the other would do. Danni found the phone and called the E.R. reporting the nature and whereabouts of the accident within the hospital itself. Garrett made her way to the downed woman. "I wouldn’t touch her if I were you," she warned.

The photographer stopped short and retreated back a step as Garrett pushed past him to get to the figure on the ground.

The surgeon quickly knelt down, positioning herself at the victim’s head, making sure that the woman was still breathing on her own. Having noted the rise and fall of her chest and the gentle flaring of her nostrils, Garrett checked for the quality of the patient’s breathing. ‘Good deep inspirations.’ Then she moved on to see where all the bleeding was from. The petite nurse was coming into view as she looked around for something to help contain the bleeding.

"Ronnie, can you hear me? Ronnie!" Danni called out her name. The muffled sound of mumbling was evident as the woman began to stir. "Don’t move. You’ve fallen. We’ll take care of you." The nurse brushed back the loose hair that had fallen across the patient’s face. "You’re gonna be alright, just let us take care of you."

"Did you get us some help, Danni?"

"Yeah, I called the E.R. and told them we needed a backboard, collar and a stretcher."

Garrett was assessing the patient’s extremities now. Carefully checking each of the arms and legs for any signs of deformity or swelling. ‘Obvious deformity in the left leg. I bet she landed on that one.’ The leg was twisted underneath her and the lower half of her pant leg was beginning to soak through with blood. The surgeon looked around at the people gathered around the outskirts of the lit area. "I need a knife or a pair of scissors."

"Here, will this help?" An older man stepped out of the shadows, holding out a pocketknife.

"Yeah, thanks." She took the offered knife and opened it. Using the large blade, she carefully slit the jeans up the side of the pant leg and exposed the injured site. The skin was hanging from the avulsion and the jagged ends of the bones were showing. It was going to be a nasty fracture, nothing that couldn’t be repaired. "How’s she doing, Danni?"

"Mumbling some, but nothing really coherent." Danni continued to talk softly as she maintained stabilization of the patient’s head.

The clamoring of the arriving group of caregivers announced their arrival. The speed and efficiency that the combined group worked with was evident to all that watched. Within minutes of when the teamwork had begun, the patient was placed in a cervical collar and on a backboard. The flurry of activity was all being directed by the tall, dark-haired woman in the flight suit.

The photographer stood there not moving a muscle, his eyes riveted to her. When the activity had subsided and the entourage of caregivers gone, he walked slowly around the site of the earlier commotion as though he was in shock.

Sensing his inability to cope with the situation, McMurray approached him. "You okay?"

"She…she…" he stammered. "She was telling them all what to do. Why would they listen to a secretary?"

McMurray just chuckled at the thought. He patted the photographer’s shoulder gently and said. "Times have changed, my boy. They’re not just secretaries any more."

********************

The E.R. was buzzing with excitement when the group made its way into the trauma room. The full team had been alerted and was assembled there, waiting for the patient. Garrett noted that it felt funny to be arriving with the patient. After giving a brief report about the patient in hand-off to Rene, the flight-suited surgeon left to go stand in the hallway with Danni.

"Hey, nice outfits. Do you know where I can get one?"

Danni felt the tug on her sleeve. "Huh?" She turned to see John standing next to her, a smile plastered across his face.

"Nice try, but it still won’t get you two on my ‘twins’ page."

"Knock it off, John." Danni wasn’t in a mood to be toyed with, especially not by John. "We were doing the photo shoot for PR when one of the crew became injured. These," she pulled at her jumpsuit, "are the flight suits that we’ll be wearing."

"Oh…you mean you’re still going to do that helicopter thing, even after what just happened in North Carolina? I thought you didn’t like to fly."

"North Carolina…why…what happened in North Carolina?" Danni was curious now.

"You didn’t hear?" John looked at the surgeon and then back to the nurse. "One of the medivac helicopters went down. It burst into flames, killing the pilot."

Garrett’s eyes narrowed as she studied John’s face. "What happened to the rest of the crew?"

"They’re fine. The pilot got some kind of warning signal or message and put down so that they could ground transport the patient. They thought that the problem was fixed and on the test flight it just happened."

The petite nurse gasped as her hand grabbed at Garrett’s sleeve. She was trying hard not to react to the news. Her face turned pale and she could feel the butterflies multiplying in her stomach. ‘How am I ever going to get through this. I can’t pull out now.’

The surgeon sensed Danni’s fear. ‘I’ve got to do something to keep her from thinking about this.’ Come on, Dan. We had better go get our clothes back at the studio." She nudged her shoulder and once she had Danni’s attention, motioned for her to follow.

"Yeah, right…our clothes." The nurse was pre-occupied, her mind seeing flaming balls dropping from the sky, but her body followed after the surgeon.

*******************

McMurray stood waiting patiently at the door for his team when they were ready to leave. "You two worked well together today," he called out.

Garrett felt Danni nudging her in his direction. "Considering…" the tall surgeon questioned him with her raised eyebrow.

"You both knew your responsibilities and you did your best." The man shrugged. "I want to thank you both for the help you gave us in the E.R. today."

"Well, we were right there and everything just kind of clicked together." Danni was honest in her facts.

"I know. That’s why the Board wanted you two for this project." He reached out and touched Garrett’s shoulder. "Six months isn’t too long. You’ll see."

"Yes, sir." Garrett nodded her head. "Did he make it?"

McMurray thought for a moment. "Oh, Dr. Chabot’s patient, yes, he’s doing fine. Said that he was out shopping for Christmas when someone came up and robbed him. I guess they thought that they needed an advantage, so they stabbed him."

The surgeon smiled weakly, "That’s good that he came through alright then."

"Come on, Garrett. We need to get to class." She stepped around her friend and acknowledged the Chief of Trauma Services nodding, "Dr. McMurray."

He stepped aside and watched as the pair walked down the long corridor. Listening, he could hear the almost non-stop banter of the smaller woman as she tried to cheer her friend out of her self-imposed doldrums.

"So are you hungry? I’m starved, want to go to the gift shop on the way to class?"

The tall woman just raised her head and rolled her eyes. ‘Where does she put it all?’ "Yeah, I guess I could use some coffee."

"Okay, but it’s my turn to buy." Danni stopped dead in her tracks. "Jeez, I almost forgot. Mom said to give this to you." She dug into her coat pocket and pulled out the thin wallet. She smiled as she handed it to the surgeon.

Garrett took it and pressed it into the interior pocket of her leather jacket. "Thanks, Danni."

"No need for thanks." ‘Well, at least not yet.’ She wrinkled up her nose and smiled as she thought about the holiday that was fast approaching. "Now, come on…I’m starved." With that, she hastened her pace to keep up with her soaring spirits.

Chapter 3

Garrett stood staring off into the distance. Up on the roof of the hospital, it was as though you could see for miles. Her head turned to survey the glowing city skyline. Each tall building stood out as a testament to the men who built it. ‘I wonder if they ever doubted their effort?’ Her thoughts mirrored her own doubts about the effort that she was giving in the final half of her Fellowship. It seemed like no effort at all, except for her to stay out of the operating theatre.

The bitter wind at her face was no match for her resolve. She had come up here to think and sort out some of her life without any interruptions. It was quiet up here, away from the rest of the world. She looked down on the streets below watching the random moving of the people as they traveled in the cars below. Each one either moving toward or away from some familiar destination, all in a hurry to be with loved ones, whether they were near or far.

She looked up into the darkening night sky and let her eyes shift from one faintly glistening star onto another. The heavens were full of shimmering lights tonight, some of them shining more brightly than others. Like an old navigator trying to set his course, she sought out the North Star using the position of the Big Dipper for her guide. She’d learned a lot in the Navy, more than she realized. The surgeon closed her eyes and imagined herself once again out on the deck of the aircraft carrier, with the strong seas rolling beneath her.

The Flight Surgeon had worked savagely trying to save the young man. The numerous wounds and severity of the blows had made it impossible to stop the bleeding. Within minutes of reaching her operating table, the young seaman was dead. Her mind could not fathom anything with such a degree of morbidity as to what the body before her attested. She needed to know what had caused the man’s death. No, not medically, but mechanically. She had seen for herself the horrors of automobile and airplane crashes as a surgical resident. Nothing compared to this.

The tall woman stood with her hands tightly wrapped around the railing on the ship. She watched out over the sea as the waves broke and then came crashing down on themselves. The sound of the waves deadened her nerves with its watery lullaby.

She had never seen as many emotions on one face as she had earlier today. She closed her eyes and the scene was immediately before her again. The lone sailor standing vigil for his comrade. She wasn’t sure which emotion was strongest or which was more touching to her heart. It didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that his friend was gone.

She tried to cast the images out of her head, but before she could, she felt a presence around her. Slowly she turned to see the gaunt face of the seaman with his haunted eyes. She didn’t know what he wanted but she was sure that it would be in reference to his fallen friend. She turned around to face him and returned his salute.

"Permission to speak, Ma’am" His voice was strong and clear with a hint of determination in his manner. He had something to say and it was going to be now or never.

"Permission granted, Sailor. Stand at ease." She waited patiently for him to speak.

"I want to thank you, Ma’am, for working on my…" he paused to clear his throat and then continued. "…On Seaman first class Williams. I know that you did your best and that he would have been grateful for your effort." Tears were stinging in his eyes as he thought of his friend.

She nodded in acceptance. "I did what any Military Surgeon would have done. I only did my job."

"I know that Ma’am, but you didn’t give up."

The words were echoing through her head as the image of the young man faded from her mind. ‘Maybe it will be worth it.’ The surgeon looked back down to the streets below. Garrett thought about her new role here in the Fellowship, and everything became clearer to her. She was here for a reason and whatever it was, she wasn’t about to give up.

She took one long last look at the night sky and began to walk toward the portal to go back inside and rejoin the world again. Looking over in its direction, she noticed that it was open now and a small figure was silhouetted against the incandescent light of the bare bulb hanging within the stairwell. The stature of the figure brought only one person to her mind, Danni. The surgeon found a smile slowly coming to her lips the closer she came to the doorway.

She watched as the form stepped back on the top landing of the stairwell, letting its figure bathe in the light. The warm glow of the light dulled in comparison to the exuberance of love radiating in her direction. The petite nurse had a heart that could encompass the world and usually did. Her patients could all attest to that. The nurse could make them feel so at ease with her friendliness, giving her heart without a care as to how it was handled. She gave whatever she thought was needed to expedite the patient’s recovery. Danni chose to reveal her true inner beauty to only a certain few, letting them into that peerless heart of hers, to do as they please. The surgeon was privileged to be one of them and realized the responsibility that came with it. Garrett knew that she could never allow anything to hurt her friend, physically or emotionally.

"Hey!" The blonde’s quiet smile was evident even in her greeting. "I was hoping you hadn’t left without me."

The surgeon’s lopsided grin was her only reply as she advanced into the doorway. "How’d you know where to look for me?"

"It’s my getaway up here when the world seems to be crashing in on me. I come up her and just let my spirit soar out over the rooftops. Sooner or later my mind settles and I calm down." She brushed past the surgeon, walking out onto the roof. Taking an exaggerated deep breath with her eyes closed, she turned slowly around with her arms outstretched and then pulled them in tightly to herself as she crossed her chest. "I can almost sense the peace and quiet of the forest here: the air cleansing my mind with its clean smell and fresh scent." She opened her eyes and became noticeably shy as she shrugged her shoulders. "My mother told me that I was a bit of a dreamer, always waiting for the natural wonders of the world to come to me."

Garrett stood watching her, taking in the entire innocence of the moment. Before her stood a woman who was more like a child in her wonderment of the world than the capable caregiver she had come to know, whose dreams seemed to be only the pure and simple kind. The surgeon was beginning to see so much of her brother in the young woman that sometimes, from a distance with the shadows playing tricks on her eyes, she thought that Lucas was here again, in her presence. ‘How could I have been so blind, not to have seen it before?’ Then, she thought of her brother beaming down on her with pleasure and it inspired her. ‘Thanks, little brother for looking out for me.’

"Well, what do you say we take our dreams home and get some rest? We’ve got a full day tomorrow." The surgeon beckoned to her.

"Yeah," she nodded with a weak smile. "That sounds like a plan to me."

The two women headed for the stairway, neither having any need to speak, yet knowing the presence of the other’s mind. Each one was a little nervous about the events of the next day. They didn’t need to draw any more attention to it or their own thoughts about it. It would be their D-day and the truth would be there for all to see. They had to prove that they could indeed deliver an intact and functional Flight Team to a destination and back. The question that everyone was concerned about, was could the nurse keep it together and deliver the payload without becoming a casualty herself?

Danni thought about how lonely it would feel to watch Garrett take off, matched up with another nurse. ‘It would be like watching half of myself leave, never knowing if it would ever return.’ At the bottom of the first set of stairs she turned to look back at her friend, the worry and loneliness etched across her face. "Gar…" she bit at her lip, undecided whether to continue or not.

Sensing the trepidation in her voice, the surgeon looked into Danni’s eyes and saw the concern in the wallowing green pools. Garrett stopped on the landing. She had to find out what was wrong before it took any further hold on the nurse. "What’s on your mind, Danni?" She watched as the young woman still battled within herself. "Come on. We’re a team, let’s talk about it." She lowered her body to meet Danni eye to eye.

With furrowed brow the young woman searched the face of her teammate then started. "What if tomorrow’s the end of our team? I mean…what if I can’t do my job up there and just go off in some catatonic trance? I’ll never get to work with you again."

"Hey, don’t go thinking like that. We work well together. Our numbers prove that. Heck, it’s what got us in this team, isn’t it?" She reached over with her hand and gently lifted the nurse’s chin so that they made eye contact once more. "We’ll do fine up there, you’ll see. We’ll do our job. I can always count on you to do that, whether it’s in the Trauma room, out on the softball field, at a photo shoot or up in the air." Garrett narrowed her gaze and let the fire of her crystals penetrate deep within the shimmering green as she tried to drive home her point. "We always do our job. Right?"

Danni was receiving the message louder and clearer than she dared even think was imaginable. ‘She thinks of us as a team, I can’t let her down now.’ Resigning to try her hardest, she slowly nodded in acknowledgement of Garrett’s belief in her ability to come through when the chips were down. She only hoped that her tall, dark-haired friend was right.

"Now, enough of this worrying. What do you say we go home and relax?" They nodded in unison. Each one trying to reassure the other as smiles slowly resurfaced. "Hey, I’ll even get dinner ready for us. How’s that?"

"I didn’t know that you could cook?" Danni was a little reluctant about this newest revelation of her friend’s abilities.

"Well…" the surgeon started off toward the door to the inner hallway and the elevators. "I never said that I’d actually cook now, did I?" She smiled mysteriously and winked at the petite blonde, then laughed.

Danni shook her head and smiled. "No, I guess you didn’t. Okay, let’s go home. Now you’ve got me curious as to what’s for dinner."

The surgeon just smiled as she reached out, pushing the button to summon an elevator.

‘This I gotta see.’ Danni just watched as the doors opened and the two stepped on. ‘She never ceases to amaze me. There always seems to be something more to her when you think that you have her all figured out.’

***

The ride home had been a quiet one, with only occasional words spoken between the two women. The majority of the limited conversations pertained strictly to the sights and sounds of the approaching holiday. The brightly colored lights and glistening decorations that seemed to be on just about every door or window gave the quaint streets an almost "Dickens" feel. The ethnic neighborhoods of the city, all giving a distinct flavor to the decorating style of its residents made for a rich and flavorful distraction.

Danni hadn’t spoken much on the way home. She had been doing a lot of speculating and thinking of ways to overcome her fear between now and tomorrow morning. ‘Maybe if I just get my mind off of it, I’ll do better.’ She looked around for something to occupy her mind. ‘Who knows, I may even end up enjoying the helicopter ride.’ She picked up the pile of mail and started sorting through it. ‘Yeah, fat chance of that happening.’ The nurse pulled out the two or three pieces of mail with the surgeon’s name on it and placed it in a neat pile by her keys and pager on the hall stand.

"Hey, Gar! How long before dinner?" Danni looked at the return addresses on her mail. "Do you think that I have time to open my mail?"

The voice came floating in from the kitchen, "Sure! It’ll take me a little while to get things done." There was the sound of kitchenware clanging in the background as doors and drawers opened and closed. "I’ll call you when it’s ready."

Danni looked out towards the kitchen, her face attested to her puzzlement at what could be going on with all of the noise that she was hearing. "Okay!" She hesitated, then continued. "Gar, if you need any…"

"No, I’ve got it covered. Thanks."

The petite woman settled onto the couch as she started to open the first envelope. A thought sprang through her mind. ‘I wonder if she’s…nah, she doesn’t seem like the type to want to find their Christmas presents.’ Danni let her mind visualize the gift-wrapped box that now resided in her nightstand drawer. ‘I’ve got to remember not to send her in there for another razor until after Christmas.’ She smiled at the thought and started on the pile of mail in her lap.

Garrett busied herself in the kitchen trying to find something…anything that she could make. ‘You had to go and volunteer, didn’t you?’

It wasn’t that the domesticated world was foreign to her, it just didn’t fit the surgeon’s demanding career. She’d been on her own since she went away to college. Between fast food and cafeteria cuisine, she never needed to provide much more than a sandwich or a bowl of cereal for her daily sustenance. ‘Now, what am I going to make? Hmmm…’ she kept looking through the cupboards in search of anything that would be within her limited capabilities. She found herself muttering under her breath. "You’re a skilled surgeon and perform major lifesaving operations with intricate procedures on patients, there has to be something here that you can…." Her eyes got bigger as she reached for the box on the shelf. "Yeah, I can do this," her voice taking on a renewed determination. She hurriedly looked through the rest of the shelves finding the necessary items to accompany the contents of the box, then set her plans in motion.

The ruckus had subsided from the kitchen and quiet was growing like the calm before a storm. Danni gave thought to investigating the sudden stillness, but decided to have complete and utter confidence in her roommate’s ability to make something for dinner. ‘I’d trust her with my life if I ever needed her skills as a surgeon. I’m sure she can handle making something to eat.’ The nurse bit her lip for a moment, then forced herself to press on to the next piece of mail in her hands.

Her eyes gazed over the front of the envelope, searching for some clue as to whom the sender was. The large looped fancy scroll of the writing was all that she needed to see. She had seen that style of penmanship all of her life. She quickly opened it and set about reading the card from her parents, more specifically, her mother. The Christmas card was of her usual type, the kind that automatically told you who it was from after reading the few words across the front of it. Somehow after all these years, "Merry Christmas to Our Daughter" seemed like a dead giveaway.

Danni’s brow furrowed as she opened the card to reveal the standard printed sentiments on the inside. Instead of the usual scrolling of "Love, Mother and Dad," there were a few sentences penned before it. ‘I guess that I’m still being reprimanded for missing Thanksgiving Dinner with them.’ Her eyes quickly skimmed across the message. Bewildered by the conveyed thoughts, she reread them, only this time aloud as she tried to understand them more fully. "We hope that your plans will include visiting us on Christmas Eve. The family would love to meet your friend, Garrett. If at all possible, please attend. Love, Mother and Dad." ‘By the gods, it sounds like they are summoning me home. Hmm…but why with Garrett?’

"Hey, Dan, where do you keep your…" Garrett saw the deep thought that was etching itself across the younger woman’s brow. "Something wrong?" She motioned toward the card that was still in Danni’s hand. "Pretty special looking card there." The surgeon’s eyebrow rose slightly.

"Huh? Oh, this. No, it’s my Mother’s usual Christmas card, just not her usual penned phrase this year."

"You still taking heat about working on Thanksgiving?" Garrett sounded concerned. ‘Jeez, I know that she did that for me.’

"No," she smirked. "The funny thing is, that’s what I expected. Here take a look at it." Danni handed the card over. "Mother hasn’t mentioned a thing about Thanksgiving to me."

The surgeon read through the card then pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Gee, Danni, you’ll have to give your mother my apologies for not being able to attend."

"You’re working Christmas Eve? I thought you told me that you were covering Christmas Day." ‘Great! Tell me I volunteered to work sixteen hours on the wrong day.’

Garrett smiled, chuckling as she answered. "I felt bad for Nathan and Rene both. I told Nathan I’d cover for him on Christmas Eve from 1800 hours on so he could go home for Christmas." She shrugged. "I figured that it was the least that I could do for them. Besides, I’ll get to treat some real patients for a day and a half."

"McMurray and the Board are all right with that? I mean…they’re going to let you?"

"Not much that they could do. They needed someone here and since I don’t have any family to go home to, it was the only logical choice." ‘But it will be like going home to family for me.’ Garrett thought of the assortment of characters that comprised her new family. ‘Yeah, and with you there for sixteen hours, I’ll really feel at home.’

"Humph! Well, I guess I’ll let Mother know that it will be just me coming home for Christmas Eve." The blonde looked thoughtful as she concentrated on the strange smell coming from the kitchen. "Say, what are you making for dinner, anyway?" She sniffed at the air. "Almost smells like…"

Garrett sniffed at the air also. "Oh, damn!" Then took off for the kitchen, all thoughts of Christmas now forgotten.

Danni chuckled. ‘I’m sure glad that she has other talents to fall back on.’ "Hey, Gar! You better not quit your day job. I don’t think that there’s too much need for Chefs that specialize in Blackened cooking." ‘Besides I bet I could find a few things for you to do with those skilled hands of yours.’ The nurse just shook her head. ‘Where did that come from?’

She picked up the few cards that were left to open and quickly busied her hands as if they would get her mind thinking about something other than the talented surgeon. With the last card left to open, her mind was once again thinking of the Christmas holiday to come with memories stirred by family and good friends. ‘You know, this writing looks vaguely familiar.’ Danni thought of a few people that it could belong to but dismissed all of them. Her curiosity now piqued, she opened it. A softly broadening smile came across her face. ‘David! Isn’t that thoughtful of him? He still hasn’t forgotten us.’

Garrett had stuck her head into the doorway from the kitchen, when she noticed the beaming smile of her young friend. ‘I wonder if that smile is because I’m making dinner tonight?’ Then she noticed the card that the blonde was holding and glancing down at. ‘Whoever sent that card must be somebody special by the look on her face.’ She felt an overpowering urge to be jealous but couldn’t think of why or whom she should be jealous of. ‘Let it go, Garrett. She’s got her own life. Not everything revolves around you.’

"You ready to eat?" She waited for an answer as she watched the young woman before her eyes, as Danni’s mind was a million miles away. "Danni, dinner’s ready."

"Huh? Oh yeah, dinner. I’ll be right there, Gar." She motioned with her head as she glanced over in the dark-haired woman’s direction. ‘I’m going to have to tell Mom and Rosie about the card the next time that I see them.’ She put the card down on top of the pile and went toward the kitchen.

Danni looked around the kitchen as she stood in the doorway. The lighting had been reduced to only the glow of the light from the range hood, giving the room a moody atmosphere of mystery. The table was set with two place settings and food was neatly piled on the plates. "Safe to come in?" Her eyes swept the room for the tall surgeon. ‘Hmmm…I wonder if the lighting is to hide the burnt offerings or to lessen the stress of the day that we had?’

Garrett came in from the door at the rear of the kitchen, a bottle of wine in her hand. "Brrr! It’s cold out there. I figured that it would take less time than the fridge to chill this down outside." She took one look at the amazed blonde and held the bottle up in offering to her. "I thought some wine would go nicely with the meal. Besides, it will help us relax and get some sleep tonight." She pushed the door closed and locked it. "Nothing goes better with spaghetti than a little wine. What do you say?"

"Spaghetti? You made spaghetti."

"Well, my last name is Trivoli." The surgeon laughed as she began pouring the wine into glasses.

"But I didn’t think…I…" The nurse looked over at the cupboard next to the counter where her pantry was. ‘I know that I didn’t have any spaghetti sauce. Where’d she…’

"Come on, sit down and eat before it gets cold."

Danni did as she was instructed taking note of the table and its settings. The nurse was learning something new about her friend. ‘I’m impressed. She even has the knack of setting a pleasantly looking table. I guess she’s just full of all sorts of hidden talents.’ She looked at the spaghetti that was so neatly arranged on the plate in front of her, the aroma of which wafted up, filling her senses. She closed her eyes to concentrate, trying to analyze the many intermingled scents that filled the air.

Garrett watched her friend closely as she sat down at her place and quietly drew her chair in closer to the table. She studied the expression on the young woman’s face, eager to find out if she would be pleased with the offering. ‘Well, it’s not dad’s sauce but it can’t be too bad. Heck, I watched him make it often enough, I should have remembered something.’

Finally the nurse opened her eyes to see the tall woman across from her become a little startled and grab for her napkin, quickly unfolding it to lay across her lap. The rapidly flicking motion of the surgeon’s eyes was a dead give away that she had been watching the blonde intently. Danni only smiled coyly, the skin around her eyes wrinkling slightly at the outer corners. ‘Well, it looks and smells good. I bet she’s anxious. Hmm… how cute that apprehension is on her face. I bet many people haven’t seen that side of her before.’ She picked up her fork and twirled a small bite on the tines. The nurse glanced up to see Garrett once again watching, and smiled graciously at her as she brought the fork full of spaghetti to her mouth. ‘Okay, no matter what it tastes like, I’m not going to…’ She placed the food into her mouth as she deftly slipped the fork out and began to chew. ‘By the gods,’ she looked over at eagerly waiting eyes. ‘This is…’

The anticipation was too much. Garrett quickly let her eyes shift from the young woman’s face to the plate of spaghetti and back again. "What?" She was getting worried now. ‘Jeez! Tell me that I forgot something.’ Her mind quickly went down the list of ingredients that she had used in the sauce. ‘I know that it’s been a while since I’ve made any. No, I didn’t miss anything that could be detrimental to it.’

The blonde stopped chewing and swallowed. ‘What could she have used for this?’ Her mind was trying to put together some kind of idea. She saw the concerned look on Garrett’s face and couldn’t help but giggle.

‘Gosh, she’s laughing at it now. I must have done something wrong.’ The surgeon speedily twirled a forkful and placed it in her own mouth. The delicate tastes burst forth across her palate as she searched for the cause of her friend’s reaction. It was getting just too much now. She had to know. "What?" She asked as she tried to swallow.

Danni face lit up and her smile showed brightly. ‘I’ve never seen her so concerned. She’s not even this worried when she’s got somebody’s life oozing out all over the place.’ She reached out and placed her hand on Garrett’s trying to calm her fear. "It’s okay. Great, if you really want to know." She smirked. "I just can’t figure out what you used to make it."

The surgeon breathed a little easier now as she sighed in relief. "Well, I had to make do with what you had in the pantry. It’s surprising what you can do with odds and ends." Her mouth curled up in a smile.

"Okay, I’ll bite. What did you use?"

"Well, first off was the Heinz Ketchup and a can of stewed tomatoes. Then I used the spices in your rack, oregano, celery salt, garlic powder, and added a touch of my dad’s special ingredient." Her eyebrows were wiggling as she teased. The shifting of Danni’s hand on hers as she began to laugh at the site Garrett was giving her made the surgeon a little self-conscious about the lingering contact, and she slowly withdrew her hand to her lap. Suddenly she felt alone and contemplated bringing her hand back up on the table. ‘What’s all that about?’ The surgeon forced her mind to the conversation at hand.

"What special ingredient?" Danni tried to not let the loss of contact with her friend disturb her, but it did. ‘Why does it feel so natural to reach out to her?'

Garrett picked up her utensil and began pushing the food around her plate. The stolen glances only confirmed her suspicions. The nurse was watching her closely. With her eyes cast downward to the food in front of them, Garrett mumbled the name of the secret ingredient. "Sugar."

"What did you say?" Danni leaned toward the woman across from her. "Did you just say, ‘sugar’?" The young woman shook her head. "I’ve never had pot luck spaghetti before. Gee, I guess red sauce is right up your alley." She smiled, her eyes laughing with kindness.

"Hey, blood isn’t the only red liquid that I’m familiar with, if I do say so myself." The surgeon’s eyebrow raised slightly in mock dare.

"Guess not. Ketchup…huh?" The two woman both let the lightheartedness of the conversation take them over as they continued the playful banter throughout the rest of the meal, all thoughts in anticipation of the grueling next day was pushed out of their minds.

***

The friendly ease that the evening had given the woman before her attempt to sleep didn’t abate the long bouts of restlessness and tortured nightmares. She was worried, and rightfully so. Danni didn’t want to lose the close working relationship that she now had with the surgeon. The nurse knew what she was like on a flight of any kind, the only thing that kept coming to her was her own feeble attempts in the past to overcome her fear. She tossed and turned all night with the fear of the helicopter flight in the morning. If only she could do well enough to be kept with the team, she was sure that Garrett’s strength and friendship would help her, over the course of time, to feel more comfortable with the situations that would arise.

Morning came all to swiftly and the hours quickly flew by. Before Danni knew it, she was standing in the E.R. waiting for Garrett to join her. She looked down at her watch. It was 0900. The nurse marveled at her acceptance of military time since the tall surgeon had entered her world. It was just one more thing that put them on the same page, separating them from the rest of the world around them. Little by little, the young woman was realizing that her world was growing with the addition of Garrett in her life, but shrinking also. She found her world more complete and satisfying when the two of them worked together, especially now.

‘Don’t let that all end today. We make such a good team. I don’t want to be the cause of that falling apart.’ Her mind raced with her own thoughts as the words ‘falling apart’ dredged up her fear of flying and caused the butterflies in her stomach once again to flutter their wings. The fingers of her small hand gently rubbed her flight suit over the area of her abdomen, as she tried to pacify those wings from bursting into full upward motion.

Mom was just coming out of the conference room when she caught sight of the small blond looking out the window at the helipad. She could sense the trepidation in her pseudo-daughter and ventured over to her, compelled to help in any way that she could. "Hey, know anywhere that I could get a suit like that?" She walked up to Danni and rubbed the material of the flight suit between her thumb and forefinger. "Sure makes for an nice look. Doesn’t feel bad either." She chuckled.

"Hi, Mom." Danni’s mood was somber, although she was trying hard at masking her feelings.

"What’s the matter, Danni? Anything that I can do to help?" Karen leaned up against the window ledge.

Danni looked at the older nurse’s face, then back out to the helipad. She blinked and then slowly began. "Today’s…today’s the test flight to see if we…I can make the team." The blonde looked downward, then closed her eyes for a moment as though in prayer. She opened them back up and looked at Karen, her eyes conveying her feelings. "I don’t want to let Garrett down, Mom. We’ve become so close over the last few weeks that I…"

"I know, Danni, I know." Karen patted her shoulder. "You never left me down in all the years that I’ve known you. I’m sure that you won’t let Garrett down now." Mom offered a smile, hoping that Danni would follow along. "Just do your best. I’m sure that once you get started, you won’t even have to think about what needs to be done."

Danni smiled weakly in return. "That’s what I’m hoping for Mom."

The older woman took Danni into her embrace and hugged her like a small tyke. ‘God, watch over my child.’ Then her other pseudo-daughter came to her mind. ‘Watch over both my children.’ She hugged the small woman just a little tighter with that thought before she slowly released her grip, stepping back to view the young woman’s face.

Danni looked up into the understanding eyes. Her smile broadened as she cautiously nodded at Karen. "Thanks, Mom. I think I needed that."

"See, I knew staff meetings were good for something."

Danni furrowed her brows at Karen. "Huh?"

"Well, I wouldn’t have been here now if it wasn’t for that mandatory Charge Nurse meeting with Nan." She winked and chuckled softly. "At least it was good for some reason." Karen watched as the tiny spark of Danni’s ever-eager spirit was once again returning to those green eyes of hers. ‘Yep, best staff meeting that I’ve ever attended and probably the most important one, right here with Danni.’ The young woman smiled warmly as she turned to view the length of hall coming from the elevators, trying as she might to get a fix on someone in the distance.

***

Rene Chabot stood silently in the doorway of the small office. The very intense look on his colleague’s face as she viewed the computer screen was of concern to him. She was deep in thought and had not even heard him open the door. Garrett’s eyes scanned the screen as she read down the page of words, her finger tapping at the ‘page down’ button every few moments.

The tall, thin, French-Canadian finally spoke up. "Reading up on some new operation that I should know about, or just killing a little time?" He motioned toward the monitor.

Garrett finished the sentence that she was reading then looked up with a questioning glance. "Operation? No, nothing like our kind of operation." The woman shook her head in disbelief. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say that the Middle East is gearing up for war."

The man thought for a moment trying to reason what her interest would be in global matters. "Surely you don’t think that your team would be called to transport. That’s a little far for one of our helicopters." He joked.

She looked up once again, her eyes narrowed, becoming steely in color. He could feel them burn into him with her intense look. "Hey, I’m Canadian, remember?" Rene held up his hands in mock surrender. "Why does this upset you so much? I mean, I know that you were in the Navy…"

"I’m still in the Navy, Rene. All that they have to do is whistle and I’m off to their beck and call without any choice in the matter."

His face turned thoughtful as he pondered the newly acquired information. It was becoming clearer to him now. ‘I guess she is finding herself at home here.’ Dr. Chabot’s voice turned somber. "I’m sure that they won’t let it escalate to that."

"I sure hope not. I’m just concerned with this latest act of terrorist bombing. The USS Cole was made to look way too easy to attack. It’s got to be a well-organized group to be able to do that." She bit at her lip. "I’m sure that they have more things planned in the future. I just hope that it won’t include me anyway."

Rene didn’t know what to say to that. Her outlook on the global matter seemed all too ominous for his liking, and it was far from what he wanted to be concentrating on now. Not when it was two days before Christmas. The tall man only wanted to think about his twins and their first Christmas together with he and his wife. It was going to be a joyous holiday and he had the woman in front of him to thank for it.

The thin man rocked back and forth on his heels as he contemplated his next move. "Dr. Trivoli," his mind suddenly thought that this was way too formal an opening for what he was about to say, and his voice turned softer. "Garrett, I’d like to thank you for allowing me to spend Christmas with my family." He smiled at her warmly. "You don’t know what that means for me…for us. My wife was so upset about being away from the rest of the family. Now, she’s in heaven that we are going to be able to set our own family traditions."

"No thanks necessary, Rene. I’m the one who should be thanking you. After all, I’ll be able to treat patients again, and maybe even be able to do a little surgery if the need arises."

"You miss it, don’t you my friend?"

She nodded her head slightly. "We all do what we have to, Rene. I know that I’m here for a reason. I just hope that whatever the fates have planned for me, I’m able to do to the best of my ability."

Dr. Chabot smiled at the woman. He had liked her from their first meeting and marveled at the way she was changing. Nothing dramatic or earth shattering, but he could still see the change. Garrett Trivoli was beginning to let that stoic mask of hers down, facing life with new emotions and feelings. It was all that he could ask for, to just know that her world was becoming more alive.

"So, what are you up to today?" Rene pointed to her clothing. "A little spin around the city, perhaps?" He made his hand imitate the spinning blades of the helicopter.

"Perhaps!" Garrett logged off the computer and stood to her full height. The long line of the dark blue jump suit with all of the glittering metal from the zippers made for a stunning image. "Enjoy your holiday, Rene, and tell your wife that I said Merry Christmas." She rounded the desk and laid her hand on his shoulder, leaning into his ear as she whispered. "And don’t forget to kiss the twins for me, too." He looked at her and nodded in agreement. "Now, I have an appointment with a nurse for a helicopter ride. If you would excuse me?"

He turned and smiled as she walked out the door. "Good luck," he called out after her. "Merry Christmas!" Rene craned his neck out the doorway to watch as she walked away. The casual wave of her hand and nod of the head was Garrett’s only form of reply.

The efficiency of the elevator and the speed of her gait brought the tall surgeon into the E.R. within minutes of leaving her office. She glanced at the watch on her wrist. It was 0905.

Garrett thought about the nurse that she was teamed with. The small woman was a dynamo of strength and vitality when it came to helping the sick and injured. ‘Danni may be small in stature, but she more than equals my size in effort and determination.’ Different scenarios ran through the surgeon’s head. Each one played out the same with Danni and Garrett matched as the team. There would be no team without the two of them working together. That was for sure.

The surgeon peered down the hall to where they were to wait for their ride. She could see Karen in a motherly hug with her arms wrapped protectively around the small blonde. ‘Okay, only positive thoughts. We’re going to do this together.’ Garrett had come to rely on Danni more than she would ever admit, even to herself. The surgeon knew that today would either broaden their experiences, or send them both back to the comfort of the E.R. No one else could do it for them. This was something that they had to do, as a team.

As the space between them lessened, each one could sense the close proximity of the other. The air felt as if it was charged with energy, as only they could know. It was a reaction that the surgeon was becoming more comfortable with as time wore on. Garrett squared her shoulders and strode straight toward the two nurses standing in front of the window.

"Anybody know what time the next helicopter comes by?" The surgeon winked at Mom. Once Danni had turned, making eye contact with Garrett, the tall woman’s lopsided smile came shinning forth. The genuine nature of the greeting was a timeless one, as though it had been given and well received a million times before. "Hey, Mom!" The surgeon never let her eyes leave those shimmering green pools.

Karen waved, returning the greeting as she finished speaking to Danni. She watched as the space dwindled down to almost nothing and soon her two pseudo-daughters where standing together in front of her. ‘I wonder if they realize the power of the attraction that they each have?’ She marveled at the quietness of their communication, but knew enough that even though not a single word was spoken, volumes were actually being transmitted. ‘Boy, are they ever going to be surprised.’

"Oh my gosh! Look at the time," the older nurse made a show of glaring at her watch. "I should have been home and in bed by now." She reached out and pulled both Garrett and Danni in for a group hug. "Now, you be careful up there." She looked from one to the other with motherly notions. "God, I feel like I’m sending you off to your first day at school." She sniffed back a tear, then dredged up a smile. "Look out for each other," Karen’s gaze lingered on Garrett until she detected the slight nod of the surgeon’s head in understanding. ‘She needs you now more than ever.’ Then she looked directly into Danni’s eyes. "I want to hear all about it when I see you on Christmas. Now I better get going before I really lose all control."

The petite nurse gave Karen a quick hug. The whispered gratuity was kept between the two of them as the sound of a helicopter in its descent prevented it from traveling any further. Mom stepped back from the embrace and took in a deep breath as she tried to compose herself before walking through the E.R. After all, she had an image to uphold.

The surgeon had moved closer to the window, letting the tender scene unfold around her. If she had to be taken into a family of any kind, she was certainly glad that it was under the leadership of this loving woman. For a brief moment, she wondered if she could ever offer anyone that sort of unconditional love as she was witnessing now. It seemed too farfetched to think about at the present time, but in her soul Garrett knew that it was something that she had always wanted.

Listening to the increasing hum of the blades outside the window, Garrett noticed the changing pallor of the woman in front of her. The blonde’s fair skin was becoming devoid of all color and she was finding it hard to swallow. Her hand reflexively came to rest over her stomach, rubbing it in a soothing manner. The surgeon could sense her fear and decided that nothing in this world was worth the torture her friend was experiencing. "Danni, if you don’t want to go through with this, it’s okay. I’ll understand."

Golden hair shimmered as Danni’s head turned in Garrett’s direction. The pleading green eyes churning like rough seas as everything from self-doubt to rage at the thought of not being allowed this challenge crossed her mind. ‘What is she doing, giving up for my sake?’ "No!" The feisty woman was putting her foot down. "If I’m not going to be part of this team, they’re going to have to tell me that to my face. It’s not going to be because I didn’t try." Her voice was full of determination.

The nurse looked out the window to see the helicopter just touching down on the pad. The air was full of small bits of debris as the blades slowed down to a stop. The butterflies in her stomach were beginning to stir as her mind began chanting a mantra of positive reassurance. ‘You can do this. It’s just a ride…a nice, safe ride. You can do this.’ "You coming with me, Doc, or are you giving up?" Her eyes shown like emeralds, glowing with a deep burning passion as she waited for a reply.

Garrett liked the fire that burned within her friend. She had felt its warmth and knew of its compassion. But now, she was about to see its mettle put to the test. She knew that Danni had to prove this to herself and no one was going to stop her. That’s when the surgeon decided to help her in any way that she could. "Okay, what do you say we go for that ride and put an end to all this talk?"

"Sounds like a plan to me, partner." Danni reached down to pick their jackets up off the chair. Her hand refused to give up the leather flight jacket to the surgeon, holding on until it was gently tugged from her grasp. The softness of the leather was such a contrast to the stoic woman who wore it. ‘Maybe one day, Garrett, I’ll get to see that soft spot in your heart.’

They both quickly donned their coats and turned to look at each other for reassurance, each one giving the other the "thumbs-up" sign.

"Okay! Let’s go kick some butt." The surgeon gave the "thumbs-up" sign through the window to the pilot as he waited for them inside the helicopter, then headed to the door.

Danni gulped hard trying not to let any of her butterflies’ escape. ‘If I’m going for a ride, we’re all going for one together.’ She replicated the signal to the pilot, and moved quickly to catch up with her team.

[sp4c3-0ddity]

25, “I want an answer, goddammit.” For plance??? :)

so uh…remember that old Disney Channel show “Phil of the Future”?? this was definitely very much inspired by its concept (though tbh i only watched a tiny bit of it and don’t remember very much) so this is not nearly as angsty as that prompt implies. and no knowledge of the show required to know what’s going on here!! but anyway, ~3000 words, and i hope you like at least some of them!!

(25) “I want an answer, dammit.”

“What do you think this thing is anyway?” Lance pokesthe corner - or the cut-off corner - of the small pyramid-looking…gadget. Thesurface is smooth under his hand aside from narrow grooves on each side, andsomething almost glows inside the metal.

If Lance doesn’t know anybetter, he’d think it popped right out of one of those crazy science fictionmovies Hunk likes poking holes in.

“A toy, probably,”Hunk surmises. He holds his hand out, but Lance cradles the thing protectivelyagainst his chest. “Really? You don’t even want me to get a better look atit?”

Lance shakes his head, holdingthe object tighter, never mind that the sharp edge digs into his arm. “Mymystery to solve.”

Hunk raises an eyebrow beforerolling his eyes and returning his attention to the calculus textbook lyingopen on the table before him. “Where did you even get that?”

Heat rushes to Lance’s face,his eyes widening as he tries to think up a believable lie that won’t embarrasshim as much as Pidge left it behind inthe robotics classroom.

(That fact isn’t especially humiliating so much as the suggestionthat Lance might’ve still been at school after the robotics club met. He has areputation to maintain, and part of that is cooland uncaring student and a “cool and uncaring student” wouldn’tbe caught dead at school after classes.)

“Uh…Pidge left it in thecafeteria after lunch and I haven’t seen her again yet since,” Lance says.He flashes Hunk a smile and prays he won’t question him.

No one answers his prayer.

“Really?” Hunk frownsat the pyramid-looking thing in Lance’s arms. “That seems like an oddthing for her to carry around.”

“Well, Pidge is a little…”

“Weird?” Hunksuggests.

Lance gasps, jaw dropping as hestares at him. “Hunk, don’t be mean!”

He absently taps his pencil againsthis notebook. “I’m just saying what you were thinking,” he pointsout. “And, hey, she’s still great! I don’t blame you for having a littlecrush on her, even though I never figured her as your type, so—”

Lance’s brain struggles tocatch up with the words spilling out of Hunk’s mouth so that he blurts,“Wait, what?” His heart skips a beat, the gadget nearly tumbling fromhis grip until he scrambles to retrieve it, and he retorts, “I do not have a crush on Pidge!”

Hunk’s eyes narrow.“Right,” he says in a tone dripping sarcasm, “and I failed thecooking unit from home—”

“It’s just that sheflat-out rejected me when I invited her to eat lunch with us!” Lancewhines. He drops his forehead onto his own open textbook, the memory of herfrown and downcast eyes before she mumbled something about needing to study foran exam still stinging days later. “It’s like one day she’s complaining tome about what a waste of time P.E. is, and the next she’s avoiding me!”

Which was fine! Jenny Shaybonoffered him her pudding cup that lunch period, so really, Pidge was the real loser!

“But there is something odd about Pidge,”Lance muses. He sets the pyramid thing on his book - who cares about RRAM orthe trapezoid rule or whatever anyway? - and stares at it, hard. He’s never seen anything like it - though he never claims tobe an expert in technology or art - and besides, some things about Pidge justdon’t add up.

She and her brother justenrolled in the middle of the school year a few months ago. Pidge says strangethings and contradicts their physics and computer science teachers a lot - Lance can’t help being on hisguard in that class after Mr. Haxus’ last death glare - and complains aboutschool being a complete waste of time for her though for all intents andpurposes she’s a huge nerd.

(It’s why he asked her ratherthan Hunk to help him in calculus…or so he insists.)

“Just because she cansometimes resist your charms doesn’tmean she’s odd,” Hunk says, rolling his eyes.

“You’re the one who saidshe’s weird first!” Lance argues.

“Sure,” Hunk agreeswith a shrug. “I’ve never seen anyone else dip turkey bacon in peanutbutter, for one.”

Lance barely hears him, toobusy staring into some distant recess of the library. “You ever notice howcagey she gets when I ask her about her hobbies or where she’s from? You thinkshe likes video games?” He frowns, tapping his chin and considering how hecan get through to Pidge, entice from her one of those fond smiles that makessomething warm bloom in his chest…or even a boast.

“Yeah, but maybe she justdoesn’t want to talk about personal stuff,” Hunk says. “I mean, herfamily’s from Canada, right? I’d be embarrassed to be from Canada too.”

“But where from Canada?” Lance wonders with a wide, sweepinggesture. “When she said Canada,I tried to joke that she must like the cold, and she looked at me all confused! And she quotes, I kid you not,Canada is cold?”

“Maybe she’s from areality where climate change already did a number on Canada,” Hunk jokes,his lips curving in a smirk.

“How are you not curious,man?” Lance demands. He leans over the table to prod his shoulder andadds, “You’re the same guy who snuck a peek at Jenny Shaybon’s diary whenI wasn’t sure if she liked me!”

Hunk shudders. “Neveragain,” he says. “I found some sordid details in there I wish I couldforget.”

“Like—”

“Never. Again.”

Lance laughs, more amused thanoffended, before emphasizing, “Look, it’s almost like Pidge isn’t who shesays she is.” His eyes widen, heart jumping into his throat because damn does that make some kind of sensethe longer he thinks about it. With his heart racing in excitement, he grins,continuing, “It’s like she’s an undercover cop who can’t get her storystraight or a—what if she’s in Witness Protection and hasn’t learned her coverstory yet?”

Hunk stares at him, obviouslyincredulous. “You got all that just from that pyramid thing and the factthat she knew how to derive the fundamental theorem of calculus before Dr.Montgomery taught it to us?”

Lance points at him, hardlydeterred when Hunk shoves his hand away from his face, and says, “Nowyou’re getting it! And if she’s in danger—oh, God, what if she’s in danger?” Horror grips him, a vividimage of a crazed contract assassin crashing through the school’s main entrancescreaming for blood playing through his head.

“Yeah, I don’tthink—”

“She’ll need someone towatch her back.” Lance’s gaze drops to the pyramid, an idea taking rootwhile a sly smile pushes at his lips. “And I know just how to get her toagree.”

***

Lance isn’t above blackmail asany one of his siblings can attest.

(But not Hunk; he’s spotlessand the one time Lance tried to hold a failed batch of empanadas over his head,he shrugged and said, Even I screw up inthe kitchen sometimes.)

Now he gets to attempt histechnique on a new victim.

Pidge is on edge the second sheenters their first class over ten minutes late. Her hands wring the hem of herover-sized sweatshirt, her gaze fixed straight ahead on the chalkboard whiletheir physics teacher lectures - and Lance knowsshe’s off when she doesn’t raise her hand even once to question her.

“So…” Lance prodscarefully at the end of the period when they’re supposed to get a head start ontheir homework. He glances sideways at her, watches her cap and uncap her penwith a soft click over and over again. “When do I use kinetic frictioninstead of static?”

“When you…what?”Pidge’s head snaps around, wide eyes fixing on him. “Can you repeatthat?”

“Uh…what’s thedifference between elastic and inelastic collisions?” Lance wonders,thinking of a new question just because he can.

“Both momentum and kineticenergy are conserved in an elastic collision,” Pidge explains. “Onlymomentum is conserved for inelastic.”

Lance jots down a random formula- F = ma - and nods along, just tomake it look like that’s what he’s really interested in. “Thanks,” hetells her, flashing her a smile he hopes will set her at ease.

It does not. Instead sheprogresses even more slowly through her homework than he does, barely startingthe first problem by the time the bell rings.

She tries to race ahead ofeveryone else, ducking past students that tower over her and heading in thedirection that Lance knows must bethe robotics classroom, so he follows, his heavier than usual bag bouncingagainst his back, never mind that his next class is in the opposite direction.

(It’s Spanish, the one classhe’s acing since he’s almost fluent.)

This part of the school isrelatively quiet even during the day, with more specialized elective classesheld here. But Pidge still pauses outside the robotics class, gaze darting upand down the hall furtively - but missing Lance in his hiding spot just aroundthe corner - before she easily picks thelock and darts inside.

His jaw drops. Pidge knows howto pick locks? Then why hadn’t she tried that before he was forced to ask ajanitor to open his locker when he forgot the combination?

Well, no use in thinking aboutthe past when Lance has a Pidge to confront.

He slips through the crack inthe slowly closing door on silent feet in time to see her peeking under a deskand mumbling, “Where are you,Rover? I could’ve sworn I turned you off…”

“It has a name?”Lance blurts before he can stop himself.

Pidge’s head strikes the deskwith a harsh thunk when she jumps.

He winces and reaches acrossthe desk to touch her shoulder. “Sorry! Are you okay?”

She mutters something too lowfor him to hear before straightening, her eyes wide and face red and whole bodystiff and looking very much like she wants to bolt. “Lance? What’re youdoing here?”

Of course she completelyignores his question.

“Uh…I have roboticslater, obviously,” Lance lies with a grin that feels strained. “Justhad a bit of last-minute homework to finish first about like…Turing and daVinci and—”

“Oh, just stop whileyou’re ahead,” Pidge cuts him off, rolling her eyes, though the corner ofher mouth ticking up slightly validates his rambling. “I know you’re notin robotics.”

“And class is not insession here right now.” Lance rests his hands on the desk between themand leans towards her. “What’re youdoing here?”

Pidge’s eyes drift away,wandering around the classroom. “I lost something here yesterday,”she says. “I came by to look for it.”

“Lost what?” Lancewonders despite knowing exactly - well, kindof exactly - what. He shrugs off his backpack and drops it onto the desk,waiting for the right moment to unveil his discovery.

“Somethingimportant.” Pidge runs her fingers through her untidy hair and groans.“Matt was right; I never should’ve brought it to school, but I thought itwould be helpful for—”

Lance unzips his bag and pullsout the pyramid-shaped thing.

Pidge’s jaw drops, her handsshooting out. "You found Rover!” She makes to grab it, but Lanceholds it just out of her reach. She glares at him and practically growls,“Lance, that’s mine.”

“What is it?” Lancewonders, running a fingertip along a sharp edge. “And why were you talkingabout it as if it can move on its own?”

“It’s a…virtual realityprototype,” Pidge says. Her hands curl into fists at her sides, likelymaking some effort to be patient rather than just launching herself over thedesk to wrestle her possession away from him.

(Which…Lance isn’t entirelysure he’d be opposed to.)

“Is it?” Lance raisesan eyebrow; cool as virtual reality would be, something in her words ringsuntrue. “Can I try it out? I swear I won’t tell anyone about it if you’retrying to keep it a secret.”

“No, you can’t.”Pidge crosses her arms. “It’s veryunrefined; the images aren’t…detailed enough yet, and there are all thesebugs in the code I’m trying to fix and—”

“So who did you see getmurdered?” Lance asks. Might as well cut to the chase if she still insistson lying, right?

Pidge stares at him. “Whodid I…what? No one!”

“Wrong answer,Pidge,” Lance accuses, prodding her in the shoulder, “if that’s evenyour real name!”

Her jaw flaps, eyes wide andstunned till she admits, “It’s not.”

Lance grins and pumps his fist,a flush of triumph filling him. "Aha, I knew it!”

“Pidge is just a dumbnickname my brother gave me,” she says, shrugging. “My real name isKatie.”

Really? Such a cute, femininename belongs to the girl in the baggy sweatshirt and untidy hair? But that’snot important, not when his alarm spikes and he waves his hand in her face andsays, “Hey, why are you telling me this?” He glances over hisshoulder at the door, half-expecting someone - maybe the robotics class teacheris a spy? - to be standing there andeavesdropping. “What if someone that wants to kill you finds out?”

Pidge slams her hands onto thedesk, a deep frown on her face, and demands, “Lance, what the quiznak areyou going on about? No one’s ever tried to kill me, and I never intentionally hid my real name!”

Lance flails his arms,agitated. “Aren’t you in Witness—wait, what the hell is a ‘quiznak’?”

Pidge’s eyes widen as sherecoils from him and mutters, “Quiznak, it’s a…curse word from a book Iread.” She smiles, but Lance knows a fake one when he sees it.

He crosses his arms and smirks,knowing he’s caught her. “Nice try, Katie,”he says. “Who are you and where are you from really?” He pats the pyramid thing - Rover - on its flatcornered top and adds, “I want an answer, and you’re not getting this backuntil you explain.”

Her eyes narrow while shescowls, mistrust obvious in every twitch of her face.

And maybe blackmail was aterrible idea to get Pidge to talk - to confide in him - because that distrust hurts.

But Lance stands his ground andholds her gaze. “You know Canada’s cold, right?” he says in a low voice,not quite willing to disrupt the tense cloud hanging over them.

“I do know,” Pidgegrumbles. “Where I’m from, Canada doesn’t even technically exist anymore,and political and climate histories have never been my strong suits.Technological history, on the other hand—”

“Where you’re from?”Lance prompts. His heart pounds, excitement gripping him, for he senses Pidgeis on the verge of giving him answers.

“Well, more like when I’m from,” she admits with asigh. She props her elbows on the table, leaning slightly towards him with hergaze on Rover. “My family was on vacation when the machine broke down, sowe got stranded here.”

Lance, even more confused thanhe was before Pidge started talking, rests his hands on his hips and raises aneyebrow. “Can’t you just take your car to a shop if it broke down? Hey, Ibet Hunk would be willing—”

“Not a car,” Pidgeinterrupts, eyes darting up to his before flitting away again. “A…timemachine.”

At first, Lance doubts he heardher right, but then he laughs and nudge her in the shoulder. “Good one,Pidge,” he says. “You really had me going for a second.”

Pidge frowns. “I’m notjoking, Lance.”

“Really? Timemachine?” Lance smirks. “You have a pretty good imagination; thatshould be what your virtual reality game is about!”

Her frown turns into anirritated scowl. “I tell you the truth like you asked, and this is how you react?”

“Don’t worry,” Lancesays, raising his hands and trying (but failing) to dampen his grin. “Ipromise I won’t tell anyone; your secret is safe with—”

Pidge taps one of Rover’scorners, and wires running through its sides embedded in the metal burst withcolor, flashing red before fading into blue. Lance’s jaw drops, heart jumpinginto his throat, as the thing - is it a robot?And way more advanced and cooler thananything the robotics club can hope to build in this century - rises, hoveringin place with a green indicator light blinking at him before turning towardsher.

Pidge smiles and greets it,“Good morning, Rover. Did the mean, scary boy kidnap you?”

Lance doesn’t recover fastenough to get more than mildly annoyed that she called him “mean” and“scary”, not when a damn robot beeping like R2D2 hovers in front ofhim.

(He wonders if its“language” is as filthy as R2D2’s.)

“Believe me now?”Pidge wonders with a glare.

Lance’s jaw snaps shut with aclick as he recovers from his shock. He nods frantically and reassures her,“Yes, you’re from the future but we’ll say you’re from Canada!”

Pidge’s expression relaxes asRover hovers over her shoulder. “Good,” she says, and she rounds thedesk and approaches him.

His heart races and heat rushesto his face when she grabs him by the front of his jacket and tugs him down toher level, so close to her face hecan see every distinct shade of brown in her eyes. “And I don’t care howcute you are,” she hisses. “If you breathe one word of this to anyone- even Hunk - I’ll show you what we do to blabbermouths in my time.”

Lance’s mouth dries, a flutterlow in his abdomen, as he swallows, just a little afraid of this tiny girl withthe flashy robot and a death grip on his jacket, and manages to promise,“I won’t tell anyone.”

Pidge grins, though there’s amenacing edge to it. “Good.” She lets go and lightly smacks hischeek. “Guess there’s no harm in us being friends now.”

Lance straightens and exhales,forcing the tension from his body. He smiles - at least he likes the outcome,and he won’t learn what exactlyPidge’s threat entails if he can help it - and agrees, “Yeah, I’dlike—” His eyes widen so much he worries they’ll pop out of his skull.“Wait, did you just call me cute?”

Pidge’s reddening face is allthe answer he needs to know that hisfuture will be…interesting.

[winetae]

⇾ love me, love me (m)

⇁ Jimin x Reader 

⇁ smut, hybrid!au

⇁ accidental voyeurism, pillow riding, power play, d/s undertones, cum play, use of the word bitch, possessiveness, dirty talk, mentions of breeding, lowkey soft, not much plot even if u squint 

⇁ 12.7k 

Legally speaking, Jimin is yours—the shiny collar clasped around his neck and the adoption papers attest this. But behind closed doors, Jimin makes sure you understand that he isn’t anyone’s bitch. 

(a/n) big ty to jules for her extensive dog knowledge that helped me with the visual aids for this fic!! ty to mj for reading it over and convincing me that it wasn’t half bad :’’) and ty to cat who always answers any questions i have about grammar! and to everyone who sent me jimin hoe gifs, ily!!

.

 “You’re in over your head.”

“Hybrids need to be taken care of properly, they aren’t goldfish. Young women your age are not equipped to look after them.” 

The adoption center had warned you hybrid breeds like Jimin would require constant attention, but, at the time, you had foolishly dismissed their concerns, already enraptured by the look on his face, hope glimmering in his brown eyes. Perhaps it would have been wise to heed their advice. 

Two months have passed since the adoption but Jimin’s abundance of energy still takes you by surprise. His exuberance never runs low; no matter how much he plays and runs around all day, he never tires himself out. 

Keeping him occupied is one thing. What you don’t expect is his penchant for physical affection.

By now, it’s no well kept secret that Jimin is an avid fan of skinship—he’s made it his habit to rub his face against yours, trailing his nose down your neck and your clothes until he’s sure that his scent will cling to you like a shadow. Days and nights alike, he seeks the attention of his owner and won’t hesitate to pout and whine if you don’t indulge him enough to his liking. 

If the first few times catch you unawares, you’ve long grown accustomed to the way he pounces on you without warning while you’re lazily flicking through the TV channels. Tail wagging high in the air, he laves your cheeks with unbridled enthusiasm, the sound of your giggles the only encouragement he needs to pursue his ministrations. 

You suppose some might find it tiring to keep up with a dog hybrid, especially one brimming with so much energy, but you prove to be the exception.

Jimin breathes life into your otherwise boring and tedious everyday occurrence. Sometimes, you find it hard to believe how effortlessly he’s able to bring color to your monochrome existence. But there is no room for disbelief when his presence is perceptible to the naked eye—your spacious apartment now feels like a proper home rather than an impersonal hotel suite, the living space no longer spotless and clinical; Jimin’s games litter the floor, crumbs of a tuna sandwich sticking to the counter top he forgot to wipe clean. 

It’s almost frightening, how easy it is to let Jimin into your life. He seamlessly weaves himself into your daily routine and your heart, and gives you a reason to come home after a long day of work. 

Before you have time to consciously realize it, you begin to anticipate his hugs and reciprocate his affection. 

Whenever you’re in the kitchen preparing dinner and he suddenly wraps both arms around you from behind to whine about his empty stomach, you turn around to scratch the belly in question before he has time to finish his complaint. At night, he likes to curl up next to you under the comfort of a hand-sewn quilt, his ears pulled back slightly when you run a soothing hand over his mop of hair. Your heart softens whenever you see his crescent shaped eyes smile in your direction, his plump lips stretched into a wide and inviting grin. 

That’s not to say that there aren’t downsides to this arrangement—if you can call them that.

It doesn’t take long to notice that taking care of your more personal matters proves to be nearly impossible. Jimin has dissolved the very notion of privacy, leaving you no spare moment to attend to your own needs without his detection.

How are you supposed to hide an orgasm from someone who can instantly tell when you use a different body wash? How do you find time to rub one off when Jimin is glued to your side as soon you get home from work? 

Now that your bed is a shared space, it doesn’t feel right to tend to your base desires out in the open where Jimin’s nose can detect your arousal. You don’t want to make him uneasy so you try your best to deal with your problem as quietly as possible. With Jimin snuggling up next to you at night, the only time you’re guaranteed solitude is when you lock yourself in the privacy of the bathroom. 

It takes some getting used to—the bathtub is not nearly as comfortable as your bed—but you manage to make it work. You light some scented candles and play some soothing background music, hoping that the floral fragrance and bluesy melodies will camouflage your actions from Jimin’s keen senses. And to your knowledge, Jimin is none the wiser to what happens once you immerse your body in the hot water. Which is how it should be.

.

Tonight is another one of those nights where you desperately need to unwind. Whenever your working hours weigh down on your shoulders, you crave that release more than usual, needing that post-orgasmic state of bliss to temporarily erase the worries from your mind. You don’t realize you’ve spent too much time relaxing in the tub until you notice the pruned skin of your fingertips. 

Work must be giving you more stress than you first feared; for some reason your body is more sensitive to your ministrations and you manage to bring yourself to a peak twice in a row; an unprecedented occurrence. Body tingly and light, you emerge from the bathroom, skin damp and rosy. 

It’s difficult to force your tired limbs into movement, but even if you want nothing more than to doze off on the couch and bask in your blissful glow, dinner needs to be taken care of. You distantly remember promising Jimin grilled meat earlier this morning and you’re not one to break promises. Speaking of—

“Jimin?” Your voice carries through the silent apartment, a trail of wet droplets staining the carpet as you search for him.

You expect to see the hybrid pacing back in forth in front of the fridge like he usually does when hunger gnaws at him, but the kitchen is surprisingly barren of his presence. How odd—he’s usually the first to complain about his rumbling stomach. You pause in perplexity when you also fail to find him in the living room. Unless he’s stepped out of the house without forewarning, only the laundry room and your bedroom are left to explore. Although you are curious as to why he isn’t demanding dinner like any other night, Jimin has never left the house without a word, so you aren’t too worried about his current whereabouts

The pitter-patter of your footsteps is muted by the beige carpet, but you know Jimin’s dog ears are fully capable of discerning the faint sound. As you draw nearer to the last door in the hallway, the voice in the back of your head finds it strange that Jimin hasn’t made an appearance yet. 

The door to your room is left ajar and you move to poke your head in. With your hand on the brass knob, you give the door a small push before halting completely, your eyes blown wide in surprise as you soak in the sight in front of you. 

A silent gasp is your only visible reaction. Surprise paralyzes you, rooting you to the spot. It’s as if your brain has been short-circuited, your mind drawing a blank as you try to process what you’re seeing. 

The picture that greets you is obscene in all ways. 

If Jimin’s nudity shocks you, it’s nothing compared to the slack-jawed response his sinful activity elicits from your body. 

For there is nothing innocent about the way Jimin ruts against the pillow tucked between his strong thighs—with every thrust of his hips against the cushion, his muscles flex in a way that has your mouth go dry. Although his expressions are hidden from you, the firm globes of his ass tempt you in ways that they shouldn’t, his body shiny with sweat. 

Even from this distance, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s up to. As if the sight itself isn’t sufficient proof, the high pitched whines of pleasure that bounce off the walls are enough evidence. 

And yet—you continue to swim in denial, your brain refusing to trust your eyesight. Doubt clouds your thoughts. Could you, perhaps, be wrong? Maybe this is a simple misunderstanding and he’s merely— You struggle to find an excuse, grasping at straws, knowing in your heart that you’re not imagining this spectacle.

The deep, throaty moan that rips from his throat puts an end to your doubt. It’s guttural, animalistic. There’s no way that you can mistake it for anything else than what it is—the expression of lust in its rawest form.

Now that you’re fully cognizant of the situation, you realize that you should leave and grant him the privacy he deserves. It’s not as if he’s committing a crime of any sort—you of all people can sympathize. Leaving now is the best option so as to avoid any awkward explanations. You don’t want to invade his privacy or make him embarrassed for an act that is only natural. 

With that thought in mind, you shut your eyes, trying to erase the memory before it ingrains itself into the crevices of your mind. You will your feet to shuffle back, but right as you are about to turn on your heels, Jimin shifts and you freeze on the spot, worried that he’s finally picked up on your presence. You brace yourself for the inevitable confrontation, hand tightening on the door knob to steady yourself—but no acknowledgment comes. Lifting your head, you expect your eyes to clash with his, but he shows no outward signs of being caught in the act.

Instead of berating you like you had expected, Jimin scoots himself back onto his haunches and grinds into the pillow with more fervor, his hips drawing little, half-circles that bring attention to the curve of his ass. Lost in his own world, he doesn’t take notice of your shameless gawking; too busy chasing after his pleasure.

You’re so enthralled by the salacious sight that you almost miss the way his right hand reaches up to paw at his face. From your peripheral vision, it looks like he’s wiping off the beads of sweat dripping down his hairline with the back of his hand. But your attention is quickly stolen by the bright-colored scrap of fabric that sticks out between his fingers—because, there, tightly clutched in his fist, is your favorite pair of underwear.

For a split second, you think your eyes deceive you but his wrist flicks, flashing you the familiar undergarment once more. It’s nothing as risqué as the collection buried at the bottom of your drawer, but that doesn’t stop embarrassment from dusting your cheeks and the tips of your ears pink. 

The plain cotton pair is one you recognize at once—it’s the pair you had disposed of in the hamper right before you drew your bath. 

You blink, mouth agape, the crux of your thighs throbbing as heat rushes south. Somehow, knowing that Jimin is holding such an intimate piece of clothing makes your pulse race. And the discomfort between your legs only grows as you continue to observe the events unfolding in front of you, feet stuck to the ground. 

Jimin holds the rose colored material up to his nose, his tongue poking out from between his plump lips as he breathes in your feminine scent. Fleetingly, you register that it hasn’t been that long since the start of your bath—thirty minutes, give or take. Your scent must still be imbued on the fabric, traces of your discharge coloring the crotch of the panties white. Your unique fragrance seems to be too much for him to handle, and he growls into his hand, hips bucking with more urgency than before. It’s only then that it finally sinks in;

Jimin is sniffing your underwear. 

He is smelling you. And getting off on it. 

Dizziness overtakes you, rendering you speechless and making you go weak in the knees, your grip on the doorknob the only thing keeping you afloat. You don’t even try to make sense of what’s happening, too overcome with astonishment and something else—something a lot more dangerous and potent. 

The lust you thought you had driven off earlier is now back tenfold. As much as you try to avert your gaze from the scene, arousal wraps itself around your spine, keeping you frozen in place, unable to peel your eyes away from the lewd vision. Spellbound, you couldn’t look away even if you tried.

The sole focus of his attention is clutched in his hand—Jimin buries his nose into his fist, pink fabric still clasped between his digits, and he moans again, low and throaty, his hips working the silk-covered pillow with renewed eagerness. You don’t think the sight can get anymore erotic than this but he soon proves you wrong. 

Your heart nearly combusts at that very second, your head spinning with heady arousal. You can’t believe, yet again, what you’re seeing—because the sight of Jimin taking the cotton material between his teeth wipes out the notion of coherency from your vocabulary. You can only watch with bated breath, bewitched, as he suckles the crotch of your panties into his mouth, moaning what sounds suspiciously like your name around the fabric. The moment the taste of you hits his tongue, he shudders, trembling from head to toe in ecstasy, grinding his hips into the pillow as he rides out the high of his orgasm.

Seeing him spent and hunched over the now soiled pillow breaks you free from your trance. You scurry backwards, dazed, while trying to ignore the throbbing ache between your thighs. 

Back in the kitchen, your mind is still reeling—it feels like you’ve awoken from a dream, stumbled back from a parallel universe. You grill the meat without much thought, your attention drifting from the task at hand. How can one expect you to focus on cooking dinner when the vision of Jimin masturbating is all you can see every time you blink?

A myriad of questions invade your thoughts. Isn’t normal for guys to use panties to jack off? You recall seeing it in porn, once. Jimin had probably only borrowed it to ease him through his orgasms—nothing more.

Some people watch porn, some use less conventional methods... And that’s perfectly fine, you reason. But why couldn’t it have been a clean pair of underwear? Why did he have to go through the hamper? It doesn’t disgust you in the slightest, but you can’t completely shake off the embarrassment his actions provoked.  

You pat your cheeks with the backs of your hands, feeling heat emanate from your skin. The image of him holding up the cotton to his nose is still embedded in the forefront of your mind. You find it...strangely fascinating that Jimin would take so much pleasure in something so crude, so personal. It’s obvious how much he enjoyed it and you can’t help but ask yourself if he thought of you in his fantasies and not some nameless, faceless female hybrid.

Get your head out of your ass. It’s nothing personal, you try to convince yourself as you flip the meat on the grill. Perhaps dog hybrids rely on scents to get themselves off. You can’t fault him for the way his body is biologically wired. You can’t let yourself get carried away by your own burgeoning desires.

Speak of the devil... 

The mouth-watering aroma of the sizzling meat must have wafted all the way to the bedroom because it doesn’t take long for Jimin to show up, guided by his nose. Your heart lurches against your ribs when he approaches you, eyes alight as they land on this favorite meal, golden tail wagging back and forth. Immediately, you notice the way his skin glows, dewy and pink, and your vision inadvertently flashes with images of him rutting against the pillow. Gulping, you quickly avert your gaze, afraid that he’ll see right through you.

You hold in your breath, all too aware of his sudden proximity. Swallowing becomes difficult as he rests his hands on your shoulders, fingers pressing into muscle. Not trusting your voice, you stay uncharacteristically quiet and flip the pork chops more times than necessary. 

“Was work tiring today, noona?” His warm breath tickles the nape of your neck and you have to fight down a shiver. Relaxing in his hold is damn near impossible when your heart feels like it’s about to burst in your chest. 

“Hm? What makes you say that?” 

“You’ve been taking longer baths lately but they don’t seem to help you unwind at all. See?” He massages your shoulders insistently to prove his point. Thumbs digging into the muscle, he hits a sore spot, eliciting a cry of surprise. Torn between the instinctive need to flee from the bite of pain and the secret desire to prolong physical contact, your shoulders tense up. “You’re all stiff."

“M’okay,” you mumble, feeling your skin flame up. Thankful that he can’t see your traitorous expression, you try to reassure him, “It’s holiday hell season, so I’ve just been a bit more busy, s’all.”

“Okay, if you say so.” His hands fall to his side and you don’t expect to miss his touch as much as you do. “You don’t have to pretend in front of me, you know. I can comfort you, too.”

He sounds so sure of himself, so resolute, so painfully sincere that you’re not sure what to make of it. “Jimin,” you swallow, at a loss for words.

“Let me help you set the table, noona,” he offers graciously, already reaching for the plates in the cupboard. If he notices the blush dusting your cheeks, he doesn’t comment on it. 

You’re not sure what to make of Jimin’s behavior. Any other day before today and you would have dismissed it as normal, but what happened earlier has undoubtedly shifted your perception. 

Behind you, you hear Jimin rummage through one of the kitchen drawers as he looks for eating utensils. Bottom lip pulled between your teeth, you observe him out the corner of your eye, trying to place what has changed. Even after you’ve served dinner, you continue to watch him, attempting to spot any unusual behavior on his part, but your suspicions are laid to rest when he doesn’t act any differently than usual. Jimin devours the juicy meat, tongue licking his fork after every bite to savor the flavor. Unwittingly, your eyes track the movement, entranced by the way the pink muscle laps the silver utensil, imagining the curve of his tongue elsewhere.

You take a gulp of cold water, an ice cube clinking against your teeth. To your relief, the icy water douses your thirst for the time being and you’re able to pull yourself together.

Realization strikes you right then—maybe...it’s you, not Jimin, who has changed. 

This explanation makes perfect sense. Jimin has always been overly affectionate, easily expressing his feelings through words and actions. In retrospect, there is nothing strange or out of place with the way he has been interacting with you. The more you mull things over, the more it becomes apparent that it’s all you—you’re the one making things awkward; you’re the one suddenly filled with inappropriate thoughts.

Your skin prickles with guilt. Shoulders heavy, as if bearing the weight of your shame, you nibble your food in silence, lost in thought. 

“Eat more,” Jimin suggests, transferring his last piece of his meat onto your plate. You look up at him, eyebrows raised. It’s not like him to give up his meat... Before you have time to voice your question, he remarks, “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been quiet.” 

Brow creased in concern, he reaches across the table, extending a hand and placing it on your forehead to feel your temperature. The corners of his lips twitch into a frown. “I think you’ve been overworking yourself. You’re burning up.” 

You do feel hot. His touch is soft, tender; his eyes crinkled in genuine concern. Being the center of his attention makes blood rush to your cheeks, and the rosy red color that splotches your face only worries him more. 

He lets his hand linger, the pads of his fingertips brushing a few strands of hair away from your face. “You sure you still wanna watch a movie? It might be better for you to rest up...” 

“I’m fine.” It’s a relief to hear that your voice doesn’t waver. Your lips quirk into a smile, trying to appear reassuring. “You can go pick one out while I put these on to wash.”

Jimin’s eyes linger on you for a few seconds, and you can tell that he’s debating internally whether to push the issue or not. After a moment of deliberation, he acquiesces, mouth splitting into his familiar grin.  

He helps you pile the dirty plates and pan into the dishwasher. His closeness leaves you flustered, unable to hold his gaze when he hands you the used glasses and stained dishes.

Only when Jimin is out of sight can you breathe a little easier. Distance makes everything less overwhelming and you’re finally able to sort out your thoughts. 

If Jimin isn’t acting any different than usual, then there isn’t any valid reason for me to behave differently, either, you think to yourself.

However, this is easier said than done—you can still feel the ghost of his touch on your forehead, the phantom feeling of his body near yours. Shaking your head as if trying to physically remove these indecent thoughts, you attempt to strengthen your resolve. 

Only once you’ve collected your wits do you make your way to the living room. The opening credits are already rolling on screen, but Jimin’s attention is diverted by your entrance. 

As soon as you plop down on the couch, he wastes no times rearranging himself into his preferred position, head on your legs. On any other day, the weight on your lap would be welcome and cozy, but the night’s earlier events make you want to shy away from contact. If he senses your unease, he doesn’t let it deter him from enjoying the movie playing on screen.

It’s not uncommon to see Jimin's figure splayed across the living room couch, his head using your lap as a makeshift pillow. Settled in the crook of your legs, his peaceful expression is framed by a halo of flowing gold. You thread your fingers through his hair, occasionally scratching him near the ears, treasuring these rare moments of tranquility.

Even as your left leg starts to cramp, you don’t have the heart to push him off, not when this is supposedly the most comfortable way for him to watch the movie playing on the flat screen television. It’s what he claims, anyway, although you secretly suspect that it’s just another flimsy pretext for physical contact. So you let it slide, not minding the display of affection in the slightest. The way he drapes over you like the coziest of blankets is enough to turn your muscles into mush. You might as well be a sloth—too lazy to move and readjust your position. Your mind is blissfully blank, a warm haze entrapping you in its hold. Lethargy, for once, is welcome.

Besides—you can’t help but appreciate the break this fleeting moment offers you.

A sleek, electric blue race car zooms across the screen just then, catching your attention. You look up at the television screen just in time to see a car fly through the air, followed by three other, equally impressive sports cars. 

The loud roar of engines revving up boom through the sound system and Jimin’s tail thumps against the couch as the expensive models whiz past each other in their race to the finish line. 

Although you’re neutral to this genre, action movies are Jimin’s favorite—they’re the only films capable of keeping him still for longer than thirty minutes at a time. Unlike you, he has no patience for romantic comedies or period dramas. And while you don’t mind watching blockbusters, the events of earlier this evening keep you distracted. You watch the fast-paced scenes blankly, the plot inconsequential and quickly forgotten. 

Instead, your mind readily supplies a movie of its own and you let yourself sink into the earlier memory of Jimin masturbating to your scent. You can recall the scene in graphic detail, from the way his muscles rippled with every thrust of his hips to the way his labored pants filled up the bedroom as he worked himself to climax. The filthy images replay on constant loop, and you find yourself wriggling under Jimin’s weight, earning a whine of protest.

He’s quick to adjust himself over your legs, twisting his head around until he finds the most comfortable position. You don’t think much of it until you cast a glance at his lounging figure. “J-Jimin wha—” Your hand hovers uncertainly over his mop of hair. “What are you doing?”

Jimin refuses to budge, his head still buried between the apex of your thighs. Hot puffs of air kiss your skin through the spandex material of your yoga pants, and you do your best not to squirm under his weight. With the way his breath tickles the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, you can’t ignore how dangerously close his plush lips are to your crotch. A quick mental appraisal and you deduce that it would only take three kisses upwards for him to nose your—

“Jimin!” You give his locks a short tug to emphasize your point. 

Any closer and his developed olfactory senses would be able to detect the burgeoning arousal hidden between your legs. Unless... Could he possibly smell you already? You panic internally, your fingers yanking his soft tuft of hair in urgency. 

A high-pitched whine pierces the air and, immediately, you still, your entire body freezing up as you feel the vibrations of his howl go straight to your clit. Jimin seizes the opportunity to delve deeper into your lap, his arms latching on either side of your waist to keep him locked in place. At a loss, the hand still gripping his hair relaxes its hold, the silky strands slipping through your curled digits. Your mouth goes dry and you swallow thickly, keenly aware of how his mouth is right above your throbbing mound. 

Having him pressed up against such intimate places knocks the wind out of you. Your heart gallops in your chest, the sound loud enough for his pert ears to pick up. 

You clench your thighs close together in an attempt to mask the musky smell of your excitement hoping, perhaps futilely, that he won’t be able to discern the evidence of your arousal. Straightening your slackened posture, you try to create distance between you and Jimin but your fidgeting only pushes your crotch against his parted mouth, much to his delight. 

“Noona smells so good,” he grunts, words muffled, not bothering to lift his head from its snug spot. You squirm, feeling his lips form the words against your skin, the touch only inflaming you further. Jimin can probably tell, too, judging by the way his golden tail starts to wag in the air. 

From your vantage point, you’re unable to see his face properly, his shaggy hair covering his eyes, but you can picture his expression vividly—lids closed in bliss, the corners of his pout upturned into a look of pure satisfaction. Your mind easily supplies you with the image—after all, it’s one you can’t bring yourself to forget. When the memory starts to replay once more, you try again weakly. “J-Jimin, wha—”

“Open your legs for me, noona.” There’s an unmistakable purr lodged in his throat, far too similar to the felines he despises. “Let me smell you properly.”

Properly?! 

As your mind tries to wrap itself around the meaning of his words, Jimin finally lifts his head up to meet yours, his gaze wide and imploring. You’ve always been weak to this look, and he uses this knowledge to his advantage. Any subsequent response dies in your throat as soon as your gaze connects with his blown out pupils, the look on his face effective enough to snuff out your inner ramblings.

Gulping audibly, you try not to give in to your wicked desires. “Jimin, you can’t. It isn’t proper, you—This isn’t right.”

The expression on his face suggests he wants to argue, his dark gaze smothering. For a fleeting moment, a shadow of bitterness falls upon his face,  and you can pinpoint the exact moment he resigns himself to your will, his stare now void of emotion. Lust no longer sparks in his eyes; the hunger replaced with vacancy.

If it wasn’t for the movie still playing in the background, the awkward silence that had settled between the two of you would be stifling. 

“I think you were r-right,” you croak out, voice an octave higher than it usually is. “I don’t think I’m feeling well... I think that it’s best if I head on to bed early.”

He lets you scuffle to your feet without objection. 

“I want to finish the movie,” is his reaction. He keeps his eyes trained ahead, pretending to be engrossed by the complicated car tricks on the screen. 

A strange feeling presses down on your chest, constricting your breathing until you feel a headache pierce through. You can’t place what it is exactly—but you feel cold, your bare skin missing the furnace-like heat of Jimin’s body.

The part of you that had wanted to give in is screaming at you. However, the rational side of your brain, no matter how small, wins out. 

It begs you to retreat to your room, which you do, but not without glancing back at Jimin once or twice, longing etched on your face.

.

.

.

The next day, you’re awoken to the sound of birds chirping. Sunlight filters through the curtains and you bask in the early morning light. 

Shifting around, you throw a glance at the digital clock on your nightstand. For a split second, panic overtakes you and you fear the worst—you’ve overslept and are running terribly late for work. But you soon relax once you realize that it’s Sunday; the only day that you allow yourself to sleep in. 

Relieved, you settle back into your original position, your body molding itself against Jimin’s sleeping figure. The movement makes you rub against Jimin’s form—and it’s then that you finally notice how hot it is, your thin nightshirt sticking to your sweat soaked skin. Sometime during the night, someone must have kicked off the duvet, and yet even the lack of blankets isn’t enough to cool you down. 

Just as you’re about to get up, Jimin snuggles closer to you, your back pressed to his front. He winds an arm around your middle, keeping you firmly in place.

“Jimin?” you call softly, craning your neck back to look at him.

His expression is peaceful, undisturbed by the troubles of reality. The sight softens your heart, an endeared smile playing at your lips as you take in his angelic features. It isn’t the first time you are struck by the thought that you don’t deserve someone as selfless and giving as Jimin. He would probably be better off with someone who doesn’t lust after him... After all, you’re his owner—you’re supposed to be the responsible one, not governed by your own greed and desires.

As you struggle with these inner thoughts, Jimin draws you closer to him in his slumber and curls around you, mistaking you for a life-sized plushie or pillow. One of his legs slides in between your own, forcing you to bite down a gasp when you feel something hard poking your hip. 

The situation is only made worse when you try to wiggle out of his grasp. His arm refuses to budge and all you manage to do is rub yourself against his morning wood. At first you think you imagine it, but once you stop fidgeting, you’re sure that you can feel his hips grind lazily into yours from behind, his body seeking out friction even in his sleep. 

Heart beating fast in your chest, you jump out of his arms as if burnt by boiling water. Through the haze of slumber, he whines, bemoaning the loss of contact.

“Noona?” he calls out, confused, voice low and hoarse. 

You don’t trust yourself to speak yet, heartbeat refusing to slow down. Turning your face away so that he can’t see how brightly colored your cheeks are, you let out a noncommittal noise in response.

Jimin stretches his limbs out, rolling around on the bed whilst yawning. Blinking away the sleep from his eyes, he pats his grumbling stomach, a sheepish look on his face. “Is it too early for breakfast?”

You snort, “It’s never too early for breakfast. Get up and I’ll start cooking the sausages.”

He needs no further prompting, bounding up and heading straight to the kitchen as if pulled by an invisible leash. You smile fondly as you trail after him, glad that there isn’t any lingering awkwardness in the air from yesterday night.

A new day signifies the turning of a new page; the events of last are but a distant memory. In fact, if you hadn’t known any better, you wouldn’t have been  able to spot anything out of the ordinary. It’s only in retrospect that you realize you might have spoken too soon.

.

.

“Hey,” Namjoon opens the door wider, making room for you and Jimin to enter. “Oh wow, that smells really good.”

“Save your compliments, you haven’t tasted it yet.” 

“As long as it’s not burnt, I don’t see how you can fuck up banana bread.” He glances at the ceramic dish you balance in your hands and does this strange, awkward shuffle as if trying to decide whether or not to take the plate from you or not. Not trusting himself to carry the dish without somehow tripping over his own feet and breaking it, he herds you towards to the kitchen.  

Jimin follows after you, a lot more at ease than the first time the pair of you had been invited over. There is still a certain carefulness that lingers in the way he walks and appraises his surroundings, even if his expression doesn’t betray any of his thoughts.

“Should I just set it down here? It still need time to cool down.” 

Namjoon nods, waving his hand behind him. “Sure, just leave them on the kitchen counter for later.” Turning back to Jimin, he pats his shoulder amicably, trying to put the hybrid at ease. “And how have you been, Jiminie? Is ______ treating you right?”

“The best,” Jimin offers a grin, his gaze darting to yours. Your stomach somersaults at the praise, your chest warming at the way his eyes seem to soften when he looks at you. “We eat red meat often.”

Namjoon chuckles, “Isn’t too early to be bribing him into doing your bidding?”

You’re about to retort, reply on the tip of your tongue, when an excited shout of your name sounds through the apartment. You jump, startled, and only quick reflexes prevent the plate in your hands from shattering to bits on the floor.

“Whoa there,” Namjoon reaches for Hoseok a few seconds too late, unable to stop the latter from bounding up to you in excitement.

Hoseok embraces you in a tight hug, his lips pecking your cheek repeatedly in lieu of a greeting. While you’re not a stranger to physical touch, the sudden welcome takes you by surprise. 

“I missed you!” Hoseok beams, dimples on show, and you melt a little. It’s like staring at happiness in the face. Hoseok continues without pause, not leaving you time to answer. “You haven’t come around in forever. Is it because of Namjoon? Did you two fight? Next time, just ignore him and come visit me!”

His fingers tickle your sides and a titter escapes you, the tinkling sound encouraging him to continue. “Hoseokie,” you wriggle around, trying to pull yourself free from his attack, but he’s relentless. Giving up, you throw your head back, laughter tumbling from your open mouth, unaware that Hoseok’s interest had turned to your bared neck.

He doesn’t waste a second, head diving to take a whiff of your scent, a pleased sound leaving his mouth as his nose connects with the exposed skin.

You barely have time to react to Hoseok’s proximity before Jimin’s growl of warning cuts off your giggles. The sound seems to rumble in his chest, deep and threatening, like thunder announcing the coming of a storm. You whip your head around in surprise, only to find Jimin baring his teeth at Hoseok, all predator-like and menacing.

“Back off,” the corner of his lips curl into a snarl. “She’s my bitch.”

Shocked by the possessiveness that drips from his tone, you gulp audibly, throat dry. Because it’s Jimin, you don’t take offense to him calling you a bitch. The term doesn’t hold the same negative connotations for hybrids. But it does make you pause, your eyes widening to an almost comical size. 

Never before had he addressed you as such, the word usually reserved for the female hybrids that he would copulate with when their heats hit. However you don’t have time to ruminate because Jimin growls in warning once more.

He puffs up his chest, canines on display. Anger rolls off his body in waves, the dark of his eyes fixed on Hoseok’s form as he waits for the elder to make one wrong move. 

For the first time since you’ve known him, his smaller frame looks intimidating. You have a hard time assimilating this version of Jimin to the one you’re so familiar with—they might as well be completely different people. Gone is the cute boy you know, his soft features now twisted with hostility. 

It feels as if someone has pressed pause on the scene. The two hybrids lock eyes, at a standstill. The tension between the two is palpable, thick enough to choke on. Stuck between the two, you gnaw your bottom lip, your mind racing as it tries to think up solutions to avoid a fight.

Jimin’s scowl deepens, agitated by Hoseok’s lack of response. Your heart clenches with worry; Hoseok is physically bigger than Jimin and older, too. Moreover, you find yourself on his territory, and you highly doubt Hoseok would choose to submit and let himself be dislodged by the younger pup. You can only see this ending badly... For Jimin’s sake, you want to end this quickly before the situation escalates.

Their silent battle makes you antsy and you try to free yourself from Hoseok’s hold as surreptitiously as possible, not wanting to bring any more attention to yourself or to trigger a fight.

However, this seems to be the wrong move. It sets Jimin off—he snaps his jaw at the older man, demanding for him to let you go. 

Namjoon’s figure is taut with tension, ready to jump in at any moment to separate the two hybrids. “Uhm,” he tries, uneasy. “Hoseok, why don’t you step away from _____, okay?” Hoseok eventually lets you go, albeit reluctantly, and retreats to Namjoon’s side.  

Turning to Jimin, you demand, “Jimin, apologize to Hoseok.” 

“No way,” he huffs at once, his gaze still glued to the older hybrid, refusing to break eye contact because it would be seen as a sign of submission.

“Hoseok didn’t do anything wrong. We’re guests here and you were out of line.” Frustration bleeds through your tone, edging on something sterner. 

His ears twitch as they register the simmering anger in your voice, and he finally turns to you, looking like you had just kicked a puppy. The expression makes your heart uneasy, and you’re reminded of an incident that had taken place a month ago.

Jimin is the first and only hybrid you’ve adopted so you don’t have anything to compare the experience to. But you’re suddenly reminded of one unfortunate incident involving ‘territory marking’ and the subsequent visit from the world’s grouchiest neighbor. “Put a tighter leash on him, _____. Why did you become an owner of a hybrid if you can’t even keep him in check?” 

And although the scolding upsets you at the time, all it takes is Jimin whining low in his throat, head bowed in an act of submission, for all negative feelings to disperse. He looks so genuinely apologetic over his mistake that you can’t bring yourself to harshly reprimand him like your neighbors would have you do. You don’t like disciplining Jimin; you hate how mean it makes you sound, the edge in your voice making Jimin evade your gaze. The last thing you want is for him to fear you or hate you. And in all accounts, Jimin is the perfect hybrid; he gives you no reason to berate him.

Your expression softens, placated by the expression that paints his face. You expect him to give in and apologize like all the times before, but to your surprise, his face hardens to stone when he hears Hoseok move. 

“I think it’s best if we leave.” You force out an apologetic smile. “We’ll come around another time.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Namjoon says in understanding, keeping his eye on Hoseok in case he had to hold him back. 

You're quick to usher Jimin out the front door, sparing them a hurried wave in lieu of a goodbye. 

Even though you don’t encounter anyone else on the way back to your flat, Jimin makes sure to stay glued by your side. You expect him to relax when it’s just the two of you in the elevator but even then he doesn’t drop his protective stance. It would be better if he said something, anything, but he remains quiet, his thoughts hidden from you.  

Your body flinches as the door slams behind you with a resounding thud. Jimin evidently still looks worked up by the encounter if the way his nose twitches is any indication. 

Arms crossed, you demand, “Jimin, what the heck was that?” 

Jimin looks at you, incredulous, as if in disbelief that you could ask something so blatantly obvious. “He was all up on you!”

“So? It was harmless! You’re overreacting, it wasn’t as if he would bite me or whatever.” A muscle in his jaw ticks at the mention of a bite. “Besides, I can take care of myself.”

“He knows better than to be that close to you,” he grinds out between clenched teeth. “It’s obvious that he was provoking me!”

“What are you on about? And what’s with your behavior? You—You’ve never been this aggressive before...”

Jimin stays silent, lips drawn into a thin line. You await an explanation with raised eyebrows but when none comes straight away, your patience runs out.

“Is this... Is this about last night? Are you still upset because of...what happened? Look, I don’t know wh—”

“Hoseok is a hybrid,” Jimin cuts in. “His nose works just as well as mine. And to know that he was deliberately touching you, sniffing you, trying to stake his claim over you... It pisses me off.”

“But hybrids are naturally affectionate! It’s never been an issue before... You’ve never been so opposed to me being close to men. Why are you suddenly acting like a—I mean, why are you acting so...territorial...” 

“I can’t help but feel protective,” he defends himself. “Anyone with a working nose can tell how fertile you are right now, noona. Anyone within a five mile radius that happens to catch a whiff of your delicious scent knows that you’re perfectly ripe for the picking.” 

“Jimin!” Too surprised by his bluntness, you can’t bring yourself to be scandalized. You realize that he’s right—the start of your ovulation cycle coincides with all of the recent out-of-character episodes; your missing panties, the couch incident, and now, this. 

“Should I call Taehyung? I didn’t know—I didn’t think you would go into heat so soon, but I think he would understand.”

“No!” The vehemence of his reaction startles you. He narrows his eyes at you, chewing the inside of his cheek as he thinks over his next words. “I don’t want Yebin.”

“Jimin,” you say gently, placing what you hope to be a soothing hand on his shoulder. “You don’t need to act tough around me, it’s okay. If you’re in heat then it’s perfectly normal to—”

“I’m not in heat. Male hybrids don’t go through heats, you know this,” he grits out between his teeth as he wrenches free from your touch. You try to recall the briefing giving to you by the adoption center. The memory is distant and fuzzy but you can remember bits and pieces of information. He’s right, you realize with a gulp. Only do female hybrids experience heats. Then why...?

Seeing your look of confusion frustrates Jimin further, “God, you’re so—Sometimes you’re really frustrating, _____. I don’t know if this is your way of refusing me, but I would rather you just flat out tell me you don’t want me instead of pretending you don’t know anything.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t know, okay? You’ve never...I don’t—” Your mind races as it tries to supply a plausible explanation for his unusual behavior. 

“Do you really not know? Do I really have to spell it out for you? You can’t have been this oblivious all this time, I refuse to believe it. Do I... Is it because I repulse you?” By the end of his tirade, he deflates, shoulders tensing up as he braces himself for the worst. “Am I just another dog—an animal—in your eyes?”

The bitterness that coats his words makes your heart twist. You want to reach out and smooth out the crinkle between his eyebrows as if that can physically erase the disgust and self-hate he has for himself.

“You don’t repulse me,” is your automatic response. How can he even believe such a thing? A frown etches itself on your features, the deep lines conveying your disbelief. “And you know that you’re not a pet to me.” You’re much more than that, you want to add. However, something holds you back from doing so. “Don’t talk about yourself that way.”

Hurt flashes across his face before he manages to control his expression. “Then why did you pretend like nothing happened the other night? I know you saw me.” 

“I d-don’t... You knew?”  you squawk, unable to provide an eloquent response.

“Of course I knew.”

You’re instantly flooded with guilt, mad at yourself for not respecting his private moment the very second you had realized what was going on. God, what does Jimin think of you now? How can he even stand to look at you when you had so grossly invaded his privacy like that without a proper apology? You hurry to apologize, head hanging low in shame. 

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have watched. I really don’t have any excuses... I get why you’re mad and I... I don’t expect you to forgive me, not now or ever, but if there’s anything I can do to make things right again, please tell me,” you plead, eyes round with earnestness. 

Jimin considers you for a moment, head tilted to the side, bottom lip caught between the white of his teeth.

“What if I wanted you to see me?” he sounds out, the oppressing silence now broken. His question catches you off-guard and you gawk, jaw dropping open as you process the meaning behind his words. 

“What? Jimin... You don’t mean—” 

“I wanted you to see me, I wanted you to know. I knew you would find me.” Every admission comes out in quick succession, each one as shocking as the last, leaving you no time to make sense of his confession.

Jimin wanted you to find him... But why? What did he hope to achieve? What did he want you to know? The questions his words provoke whirl around in your head, making your head spin. You feel like you’re missing an essential puzzle piece that will clarify your muddled thoughts. 

The only explanation you can come up with is that...Jimin likes you. 

You don’t want to jump to conclusions but you really can’t find another logical explanation for his behavior.

“But why?” is all you can muster, feeling small. Out of the blue, you suddenly remember Taehyung’s female dog hybrid, the one Jimin had gone on play dates with. “What about Yebin?” 

“What about her?” he growls, frustrated that you’re evading the crux of the subject. He rounds on you, “I don’t want her. I’ve never cared about her like I care about you. There’s no one else who cares about me as much as you do, either. And it’s not—It’s not just because you adopted me, so please don’t talk to me about displaced love or whatever. I don’t want to be with Yebin, or whoever else, when all I can think about is you.”

“Doesn’t it get tiring?” He heaves a sigh, and just when you think he’s going to pull back, he does the opposite. His form crowds yours against the wall, not willing to give up so quickly. “Pushing me away all the time, shying away from the truth when it’s so obvious.”

It’s hard to breathe, let alone think, when he’s this close to you.  

“Try telling me you’ve never thought about me mounting you from behind.” 

The effect of his words is instantaneous. You stammer out his name, heat rushing to your face, trying desperately to blink away the picture his words paint.

“I think about it all the time,” Jimin confesses quietly, almost sweetly. His rosy lips are so close to yours that you can feel the ghost of his breath; the promise of a kiss. “Sometimes when you bend over, I can’t help it. I think about you laid out like that, all pretty, presenting yourself like a good little bitch, and it gets me so hard. You don’t even want to know how many times I’ve had to hide my erections from you, it’s embarrassing.” 

He gives a short laugh as he reminisces, head ducked sheepishly. “Noona, I know you want me, too. There’s no use denying it, I could smell how soaked you were while you watched me cum all over your pillow. I can always tell, but that night—” He inhales sharply, the memory on the tip of his tongue. “You smelled so good, I wanted nothing more than to lap it all up. These days it’s all I think about—how delicious you would taste.”

You wobble with uncertainty, rendered weak by his words, but by miracle you somehow manage to remain standing. 

“J-Jimin.” Your stammer gives away how flustered his words have made you.  

It feels like you’ve been fighting a losing battle with yourself since the start. Nevertheless, your stubborn personality refuses to give in right away. Your refusal gives you a semblance of control over the situation—without it you would become a mindless slave to your desire. Giving up the reins, letting yourself want someone without restriction... Even if your yearning keeps spiraling out of control the more Jimin speaks, you’re not sure that you’re ready to take that final step just yet.

Seeing your resolve weaken, he continues, “I could smell your arousal drip down the more you watched. God, I keep thinking about, about you. I feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind. Don’t you have any idea how tempting you are?” His words caress your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. They affect you more than you’re willing to admit, and your nonverbal cues make your pretense at indifference all the more unconvincing. It’s only when Jimin’s gaze stops to observe your legs that you notice your thighs had been rubbing together in an attempt to alleviate the pulsing ache. 

Caught red-handed, embarrassment colors your cheeks in shades of pink and crimson. Still, you attempt to save face, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze and hiding behind a mask of bravado.

His nostrils flare, fists curled by his side. Upon closer observation, you realize it’s foolish of you to mistake this posture for anger—his pupils are wide enough to eclipse the warm brown irises, his eyes now a bottomless pit of lust. You can feel the sheer need radiating off of his body in waves that threatens to take you down with him. 

“When we were on the couch yesterday, it took everything in me to hold back. Why? Why did you pull away from me?” He demands hotly.

“We shouldn’t,” is your weak response. Even to your human ears, it sounds void of conviction. You’re not sure why you’re stubbornly clinging on to these outdated moral principles when it’s clear that you want the opposite of what you say. 

Jimin isn’t fooled by your claims, either, “How can you say that when your pussy calls out to me? Just look at you. Noona, you’re fucking drenched.” 

He’s right. You can already feel your panties stick to your folds, damp with your arousal. The color on the apples of your cheeks deepens and you narrow your stance, hoping that by crossing your legs you will somehow erase proof of your desire. 

A sharp inhale indicates that he is aware of the hold he has on you and his lips curl into a satisfied smirk once his theories are confirmed. You can’t hide anything from him, you realize, feeling oddly vulnerable. 

“Aren’t you?” he presses, intent on getting a confirmation of your arousal.

“I, um, I don’t—” 

“You don’t know?” The scoff that leaves his mouth tells you that he isn’t convinced. He takes advantage of your flustered state and wedges one of his strong thighs between your own, the material of his loose-fitted jeans pressing into the juncture of your legs.

He looks down at where your bodies are connected, a smirk tugging at his lips. 

“I think you do.” Hands sliding down your side to settle at your hips, he uses his grip as leverage to grind you against the firm muscles of his thigh. “I think you know exactly how wet you are right now, don’t you?”

You bite your lips so hard that you think you might draw blood. 

“Are you embarrassed right now, noona?” When you move to shake your head, he pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to keep your gaze leveled with his. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting me, you know. And I think at this point it’s useless to deny that much. You’re so wet right now, I can feel you through my jeans.”

The clutch on your chin prevents you from turning your head away in humiliation. Jimin’s confrontation makes you realize that there’s no use of keeping up the masquerade. Since the very start, no one was fooled by your act of indifference—in hindsight you’re not sure why you insisted so strongly on pushing Jimin away. Pride, perhaps. Or maybe the fear of admitting the extent of your desire. 

You want him so much that it scares you. It scares you, not because the object of your affection is Jimin, a hybrid, but because you don’t know where your desire will lead you or what it will make you do. You’re worried that the women at the adoption center had been right all along—that you’re in way over your head, that you will never be adequate enough to take care of Jimin. How are you supposed to take care of him properly if you can’t even control yourself around him? 

As if he can read your thoughts, Jimin reaches up to cup your face in his hands. The heat of his palms against your skin is comforting and you let yourself lean into his touh. “What are you so afraid of?” He whispers, thumb tracing the curvature of your lips. 

“Myself,” you admit quietly, not daring to meet his gaze. 

“Don’t be.” And maybe that’s all you’ve been waiting to hear all this time because you feel yourself give in to his words and your desire. Jimin’s senses must be more attuned than you thought—or perhaps he’s just incredibly perceptive—but he seems to notice your change in demeanor right away, his hands angling your head up as he leans in closer to your face.

“I’m going to kiss you right now,” he says, pausing as he waits for an objection or a sound of protest. When none comes, he swoops right in, lips landing on yours awkwardly. It’s then that you notice how nervous he is; he swallows thickly, pulling back to gauge your reaction. 

“I really want to kiss you some more but...” He inhales sharply and lets his head rest on your shoulder as he collects himself. “You smell so fucking good, fuck. I need to taste you right now or I’ll go mad.”

“Go ahead.” His head snaps up at your words in surprise. “I want you to.”

Jimin’s entire body vibrates with excitement at the prospect of finally having a taste of you from the source. He’s quick to tug your pants and underwear down. In his haste, he leaves them bunched around your legs, too focused on diving his head between your thighs. 

He doesn’t waste any time, spreading your legs wide open so that he can have an unobstructed view of his meal. The sight of him on his knees in front of you, looking up at you like a three course meal worthy of five star restaurants is enough to make you shudder in pleasure. 

You’re helpless to the onslaught of pleasure he brings you. 

It’s no wonder—Jimin laps at your center like a man starved. With skillful swipes of his tongue, he licks up every leak of your arousal around your entrance, making sure to collect each drop on his muscle. You can tell from the way he sucks and licks at your folds, eyes closed in silent rapture, that he genuinely enjoys the act and that it isn’t just a chore to get through before penetration. His undisguised eagerness excites you. Now you understand what people mean when they say that enthusiasm makes up for experience.

Knees buckling, your hands slide against the wall as your hips cant towards Jimin’s greedy mouth in search of your pleasure. With nowhere else to grab onto, your fingers wind through his mop of hair for stability. 

Sweat beads at his hairline, and you wipe away the sheen of perspiration, pushing his hair away from his face with unexpected tenderness. 

He breaks away from his meal, a string of saliva and your fluids connecting his mouth to your center. Your body shudders at the obscene sight and a whimper falls from your lips before you have time to stop it. 

“Yeah? You like that?” His hands slide up your thighs to hold them open so that he can get a clear view of your soaking pussy. “Am I eating you out just how you like?”

He nips your inner thigh, prompting a verbal response. “Ah! Yes, yes, I love it! You’re doing so good, Jimin, please don’t stop.” Pleased with your answer, he laves the sting of the bite with his tongue, close but not close enough to where you want him the most. 

You tug at his hair, urging him to dive back between your legs. “Please, I need—I need you t-to lick me clean.” You barely have time to finish stringing your sentence together and Jimin is already executing your command. 

Wet and slick sounds resound throughout the apartment, intermingled with low rumbles of pleasure and breathy sighs. As his tongue works against your folds with sloppy strokes, your grip on his locks tightens as you use him to anchor yourself. Fleetingly, you’re worried that you’re being too rough but the purrs of satisfaction assure you that he doesn’t seem to mind the harsh treatment of his scalp.

You don’t wait for his approval or instructions. Your hips seem to have a mind of their own; they grind your soaking center into his awaiting mouth, pushing down on the flat of his tongue for friction. Every time Jimin’s nose bumps into your engorged clit, zaps of pleasure shoot up your spine, leaving a tingling sensation that can be felt all the way down to your toes. Every time he growls in response to a particularly wanton moan, you can feel the vibrations shoot straight to your sensitive nub.

As much as you want him to focus on your aching clit, you know that nothing will stop him from licking away at your entrance, the taste of you too good to pass up. Not that this method isn’t satisfying—you can feel the coil in your lower belly being pulled tight with every swipe of his tongue against your folds. 

Just when you think that the pressure building in your stomach is about to snap in half, he wrenches away from your grasp. The sight of him is sufficient to quell your protests; you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as sexy as his disheveled state—eyes glassy with desire, chin shiny and wet, lips plump and red, hair sticking up in every which direction.

He looks so far gone that you expect him to pin you against the wall right then and there, but he holds his composure, leaning down to kiss you instead. 

His plush lips are as soft as you imagined they would be and he kisses you like he has something to prove. It’s sticky and messy, with no finesse or rhythm whatsoever. And although you can taste yourself on his tongue, it doesn’t turn you off like it usually does. He licks into your mouth hungrily, sucking your tongue and biting your lip until you cry out. 

“Are you going to take me now?” you find the courage to ask.

Jimin shakes his head, licking at your bottom lip to alleviate the sting. “Not here. On the bed. When I start I won’t be able to stop, so I need you to be comfortable.” He searches your eyes. “Are you... Are you sure you still want this? With me?”

“Jimin I...” You take your bottom lip between your teeth while you choose your next words carefully. “I want to be yours.”

You seal your confession with a press of your lips against his. It’s sweet, the way he smiles into the kiss, sighing contently when you pull away. The tender moment is brief. Lust quickly roars back to life, your core throbbing, aching to be filled up. 

You both stumble into the bedroom in a mess of tangled limbs. Jimin nudges you onto the bed, his hands busy with the task of slipping off your clothes. Warm palms familiarize themselves with the slopes and curves of your body. You shudder, wanting Jimin to drape himself over you and envelop you in his warmth.

“I want you on all fours.” 

His grip on your hips tightens as he lifts you up, rearranging you so that you’re bent over for him, ass high in the air for his viewing pleasure. There’s no doubt that the position leaves you vulnerable to his scrutiny and for that reason alone you’re glad he can’t see your cheeks flame with shame and arousal.

The position should be degrading. You're certain that you paint quite the picture—back arched with your head bowed in submission, your ass and pussy on shameless display. It’s the standard position female hybrids adopt during sex; you know this much. And the knowledge that you’re so willing to bend yourself over for Jimin just like one of his bitches ready to be bred, arouses you more than you expect. 

“So pretty like this, noona.” The pads of his fingertips trace non-identifiable patterns on the surface of your skin and goosebumps break out wherever he touches. You can feel the heat of his gaze peruse your body. “God, I’ve thought about this every day.”

You can’t hold back your gasp of surprise when he inserts two fingers into you without warning. As your body eagerly welcomes the intrusion, small moans begin to freely fall from your open mouth. Jimin’s fingers pump in and out of you at a glacial pace and no matter how much you whine for more, his tempo remains the same.

Only when he deems you ready for his cock does he pull his digits out, his hand glistening, coated in your slick. You moan at the loss, feeling your walls clench down around nothing.

“Pretty girl wants my cock,” he coos after ridding himself of his clothing. “I’ll give you what you want, don’t worry.”

He slides his thick erection back and forth against your lips until it glistens with your arousal. The feel of his hard shaft rubbing into your clit makes your hips buck impatiently, earning a tut of disapproval from Jimin. When you finally feel him lining himself up at your entrance, you tense up in anticipation for what’s to come. 

“Do you feel that?” His cock slides in deep, your cunt hot and welcoming. You can only moan in response, already too far gone to provide a coherent answer. 

Jimin stays buried in your slick heat, enjoying the way your core clenches around him when you squirm around, desperate for movement. You feel pleasantly full, his cock nestled snugly in your heat. One of his hands presses down on your lower back, keeping you pinned in place, and he takes the moment to admire the way you’ve stretched to accommodate his girth. You can’t imagine how good it feels for him because the fit is so snug.

“J-Jimin...” The moan of his name comes out hoarse, broken. If you were a little more lucid, you would be embarrassed by how wrecked you sound. “Feels so g-good. Aa—uunh, can feel you so deep.”

“You’re taking me so well, noona,” he hisses, jaw tense as he struggles to hold himself back. “Your pussy is recognizing its owner.” 

You can hear the pleased smirk spread across his face even if you can’t see it. His words spark something within you—embarrassment mingled with white hot pleasure. A small part of you can’t believe you’re letting a hybrid dominate you when society dictates that it should be the other way around. But that voice in your head is promptly snuffed out, arousal putting an end to any bigoted thoughts. 

The first real thrust of his hips makes shivers run down your spine. A loud moan gets stuck in your throat. You’re unable to do anything but lay there and take it, too overcome with numbing pleasure. He rolls his hips into yours again, tentative, and you can imagine how enticing he looks, firm muscles flexing and straining as he works himself into you. Each measured stroke leaves you panting, unsure if you want more or if you’ve reached your limits.

Suddenly he goes still, much to your frustration, causing you to shift your hips back in a silent cry for more. When that fails to do the trick, you squeeze your walls around him, hoping this time to elicit a reaction from him. A growl reverberates in his chest, dick twitching inside of you, his nails digging into your sides in warning. Subdued, you sink further into the mattress; pliant and waiting.

Taking his time, he pulls out, until only the head of his cock is left in. A beat passes by, much too slowly to your liking, before he pushes back in, unwilling to stay away from your warmth for long. 

The gradual stretch feels just as good the second time around, if not better. There’s so much natural lubrication that your slick canal easily accommodates the girth of his cock. Seeing that there is no discomfort on your part, Jimin naturally falls into a fast rhythm, his thrusts quick and precise. The force of his movements has his hips slamming against your ass, balls slapping your clit. 

Lust envelops you in its grasp, clouding your senses, until all you know is the mind-numbing pleasure between your legs. You swear that you can’t feel your legs anymore and if it wasn’t for Jimin’s firm grip around your middle, you probably would already have toppled over in a heap on the bed. 

“My cum was made for you,” his hot breath fans the crook of your ear as he coaxes moan after moan from your parted lips. “Are you going to be a good bitch and take it?”

You mewl in assent, hungry. “Please!” 

“Gonna fill you up so well.” He licks your ear, tugging the lobe between his teeth until you cry out for more. “Fuck you full of my seed. Oh? You’d like that?”

“Fucking—oh my god,” you babble, reduced to incoherence. “I want it.”

“You’re such a good girl.” Each hard thrust coaxes a string of incomprehensible profanities and moans from your parted mouth. “You take a fucking so well, I’m impressed.”

He sounds so proud that you can’t help but preen at the praise. 

“Tell me how good it feels,” he rasps, kneading the supple flesh of your ass. “Hm? How good am I making my master feel?”

“Oh god,” your hands grapple for purchase as he quickens his pace, his fingers digging into your skin with enough strength to leave splotches of color. You’re so far gone that you don’t even register the question being asked until he has to repeat it for you.

“How does my cock make you feel, huh?” Draping his body over yours, he squats down and readjusts his position so that he can enter you from a different angle. Like this he’s able to fuck you with abandon, his hips rutting into yours like you were made for it.

“Good, so, mmngnh, you’re going so hard, I, fuuuck.” You feel yourself sliding down against the cotton sheets, but Jimin is quick to pull your hips back into position. “You fill me up, so deep, I’m so f-full.”

Jimin growls into your ear, breath hot, nipping and licking any surface of skin he can get his mouth on. The column of your neck and your shoulders sting from the attention he gives you, the skin littered with bites in hues of rose and lavender.

Snapping his hips with renewed urgency, you tremble as he keeps you pinned in place with his body. Sweat lines your brow, trickles down your back. Your eyes are glassy with unshed tears, your lips red and swollen, drool trickling down the sides of your mouth. Every movement jostles you slightly forward, breasts swinging, but his hips chase after you, not pausing even for a second. You can’t keep up with the rapid pace—your body is completely boneless; his to command and do as he pleases. 

“I’m going to plug you full of my cum,” he snarls, one of his hands snaking up to grope at your breast. “I’ll have you sit around full of it so that any other man knows that this pussy is mine. They’ll take one whiff of you and know that you took it like a bitch in heat, begging and eager to take my seed.” 

Your core clenches up, shaken by his lewd words. Sensing that your end is in sight, he continues, his cock plowing into you in tandem with his spew of filth. “Y-yeah, you love the idea of walking around, my cum dripping down your thighs, don’t you, huh? Next time we go see Hoseok, I’ll have you wear a short skirt with no p-panties so there’s no doubt that you’re my bitch.” 

A loud moan rips itself from his throat, the image getting to him. Jimin works his hips into yours with urgency, his fingers digging into yours painfully as his pace falters. His dick twitches inside of you once, twice, before spurting ropes of cum against your walls. The feeling of him painting you white is enough to push you over the edge, no clitoral stimulation needed. 

Jimin keeps himself lodged inside of you until he’s sure that you’ve taken everything that he’s able to give. You’re not sure how long he stays like that but you don’t comment on it, mouth too parched to talk. 

Taking great care to pull out slowly, he keeps your hips angled high in the air and takes two of his fingers and plunges them inside of you to prevent his seed from leaking out. Still keeping his fingers inside of you, he turns you around on your back to arrange you in a more comfortable position. 

After taking a moment to catch your breath and steady your racing heart, you finally find your voice. It’s scratchy and fucked-out, but at least you’re comprehensible.

“Are you going to stay like that all night?” you quirk an eyebrow, casting a glance between your legs. 

“No, I’m just waiting on you. Need you to be ready to go again,” he stretches his fingers into a v-shape inside of you, reveling in the way your features twist in surprise and a whimper escapes your lips. 

“Okay but how long are—wait, what the—Jimin!” you scramble up to stare at his cock in wonder. It’s pink and completely covered with traces of your shared orgasms, but what shocks you is how hard it still is. 

“I think,” he pushes you onto your back and climbs up over you, “that I can go for another two rounds.”

“Two?!” 

“Well, I’m not in a rut right now so I’m not really sure...” Jimin tilts his head in contemplation, his shaggy hair falling over his brown eyes. “Your ovulation must have triggered some of my instincts to mate, but it’s... different than usual.”

With his one available hand he tugs at his cock, spreading the fluids all over his shaft. You can only watch, transfixed. His small hand makes his cock look twice as big and tempting. 

“Different?” you mutter, your attention diverted. 

He smirks, amused, and starts to finger you once he notices how heated up you’re getting. Matching the pace of the hand around his cock, he gets you ready for the second round.

“Well, firstly, I didn’t knot you.” You’re only half-aware of his explanation, thoroughly distracted by the way his fingers slide against your walls. “I’m not sure if that can happen since you’re human but I guess we’ll figure it out as we go along... And secondly... Things aren’t as intense as when female hybrids go into heat... Not in a bad way! I think I have more control this way... I don’t feel like...like I’m on drugs, I guess? I feel more aware of what’s going on.”

“So it’s a good thing?” you ask, unsure. 

“It’s good.” He leans down to brush his nose against yours. “I think my body is adjusting to yours. I don’t think you would be able to handle me during my ruts, it might be dangerous...”

“Why?”

“Well, for one,” he squeezes in a third finger next to the other two already inside of you. “My ruts last for days.”

“Days?!” you squeak, eyes wide as you register his words. 

“You can barely handle me like this... A good girl like you would pass out after the second round, no question.”

You narrow his eyes at him, sensing a challenge. “Yeah? I can take it better than any bitch.”

Jimin’s chuckle is abruptly cut out as you force him onto his back. Triumph is etched onto your features as you take his leaking length in your fist and line it up at your entrance. 

“Let me prove it to you.” You can see Jimin’s conflicting desires rage war on his face. Torn between the instinctual need to dominate you and the desire to please you, he stays where you want him, his hands on your hips ready to flip you over at any moment’s notice.

“Why don’t you be a good boy and take it, hm?”

.

[incorrectdeceptionquotes]

A Bundle of Secrets Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Cameron woke up before his alarm. He was wide awake. His brain just hadn’t been able to shut off. He then heard a little voice whining. He walked over to the crib where Farrah was sitting up, clutching her woolen blanket. She looked up at her uncle with tears silently streaming down her cheeks. Cameron felt his heart split in two. He gently stroked her curly hair, “Hey... what’s wrong Farrah?”

Cameron almost didn’t hear the little girl’s babbles. “Mama... Mama...” She held the blanket closer to herself, “Mama...”

“Hey... come here.” He picked her up with the blanket still in her arms.

She lifted the blanket up and hit it slightly against his chest as the tears continued to fall down her cheeks, “Mama...”

Did she... did she know what was happening today? Cameron sighed as he held his niece close to just let her get it out. Farrah rubbed her eyes with her tiny fist. “I know...” She rested her tired head on his shoulder, “I know you miss your mama... I’m so sorry. I wish that I could bring her back...” He knew that Farrah couldn’t quite understand what he was saying but she seemed to be calming down. She snuggled closer to him as she gripped her blanket.

About an hour later, Jonathan woke up and found Cameron and Farrah in the kitchen. Cameron was slowing walking back and forth as he tried to sooth the baby in his arms but she was just upset. “Cam?” Cameron turned at the sound of his brother’s voice, “What’s wrong?”

Cameron sighed, “I don’t know what it is. Farrah’s just upset.” Farrah clutched her blanket closer to herself and let out another tiny whine, “I wish I knew what it was. I mean, I’ve changed her, I’ve fed her... I think she knows what’s going on today.”

“Cam, she’s just a baby.”

“Well, it seems she can tell that there is something wrong about today.” He kissed her messy curls, “You should have heard her earlier. She kept calling for Fiona.” Jonathan’s eyes glazed over. Cameron sighed, “We gotta be strong today. Not just for show but for Farrah.”

“You go get dressed and I can get Farrah ready.” Jonathan said as he walked over to his brother and niece.

“You sure?” Cameron asked but Jonathan was already taking Farrah in his arms.

“Positive. Just don’t spend three hours on your hair.” The older twin joked.

Cameron cracked a tiny smile, “Now you know that that is impossible.”

Two hours later, Cameron and Jonathan were both dressed in simple black suits and black ties. Farrah had been dressed in a black dress with long sleeves but with dark coat overtop. She also had her woolen blanket with her. As they stepped out of the apartment and were placing Farrah in her stroller, they were suddenly surrounded by a hoard of paparazzi.

“Cameron! Jonathan! What is it like to finally have your name cleared?”

“What is your relationship with Bennett Blanc?”

“Jonathan, what are you going to do now that you no longer live in your brother’s shadow?”

“Cameron Black, who is the child? Is this another family member you’ve been keeping secret?”

Now usually, Cameron and Jonathan didn’t have much problem with the press but when they tried to get close to their niece, that’s where the line was crossed. “If you all would be so kind as to step aside from the stroller.” Jonathan said in a calm but commanding voice, “Cameron and I have no problems with your questions but you’ll have to understand if our niece doesn’t feel the same way.”

“If you’ll excuse us ladies and gentlemen,” Cameron added as he and Jonathan moved Farrah’s stroller out of the crowd, “We’ll have to talk another time. Have a nice day.”

They got to the archive where the others were already there with everything set up for the wake. Despite the somber tone, the group gave the twins sympathetic smiles. Cameron picked up Farrah and walked over to Kay who was dressed in a long and loose fitted black dress. “Hey.” He greeted as he kissed her cheek, “How are you?”

Kay shook her head, “I’m fine. I should be asking you that.” She noticed faded dark circles under his eyes, “Did you get any sleep?”

“Not really.” He admitted, “But it’s fine. I’m really not that tired.”

She nodded, still not convinced. “How’s Farrah?” The baby blinked her eyes and turned her head at the sound of her name.

“I’m honestly not sure. She’s just upset...” Farrah started chewing on her blanket but when Kay took a closer look, she saw that her eyes were slightly red and glazed over. “I think she’s realizing that... they’re not coming back.” Kay felt her heart break for the little girl and she couldn’t help but kiss the baby’s forehead. Farrah’s mouth turned upwards into a smile as she looked to Kay. Cameron felt his own smile form, “Hey... that’s the first time I’ve seen her smile today.” Cameron and Kay walked back over to the others. “Okay, so people should be starting to come for the wake by twelve.”

“Marigold said she would be here a half hour early so Gunter and I could help her set up.” Jordan explained. “She’s pretty cool for an older lady”

“Mike and I are in charge of the refreshments.” Dina announced. “I’m also vice girl. Anything you might need... or want,” She lifted up a black leather bag, “Is in here.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow, “Seriously?”

Dina nodded. “Alright... ” Mike challenged, “Do you have those flavour changing Tic-Tacs?” She pulled out the box of the Tic-Tacs he asked for.

Jonathan smirked, “A charger?”

Dina just grinned, “Outlet or USB?”

“Outlet.”

She pulled out an outlet charger from her bag and handed it to the older twin, “Anything else?”

Jonathan’s smirk only grew as he took the charger, “You still got it.”

Soon people began making their way for the wake after twelve o’clock. Most were customers from Marigold’s cafe who had known Fiona and befriended her. Others had been Shawn’s coworkers and while they hadn’t known the young doctor for very long, his absence had been very much noticed in their office.

When the clock struck one o’clock, Cameron and Jonathan gave Marigold the floor.

“I met Fiona eight years ago. She... she was one of the most wonderful people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.” Marigold cleared her throat, “I don’t know what came over me when I had offered Fiona a job and a place to stay but I thank God everyday that I did. Never once did she complain about work or the fact that we were living in a tiny apartment above the cafe.” A picture of Fiona and Marigold was shown on the screen behind her. It was clearly from a few years ago. Fiona’s hair had been longer and braided and Marigold’s short hair had a very 2000s vibe to it. “Fiona soon became like the daughter I never had. She always had a smile on her face. She always treated people with kindness, even when they might not have made the best first impression... which brings me to Shawn.”

That comment made everyone let out a chuckle.

“Shawn was a very fine young man. As someone who was lucky enough to see their love story unfold, I can attest that it didn’t get off to the smoothest start.” The image behind her changed to a picture of Shawn and Fiona on their wedding day.

“Mama! Dada!” Farrah called out holding out her arms when she saw her parents on the screen. Cameron held her closer but she was trying to wiggle out of his hold. She wanted her parents.

Marigold felt her eyes well up. She cleared her throat again, “He loved Fiona and he loved Farrah so much. He was a good man. He would have been one of the better doctors this world could have had. I remember Fiona telling me how protective he had become by the end of her pregnancy. She would joke by saying that judging by all the parenting books he was reading, it was almost like he was trying to be the better parent.” She paused for a moment as Jordan changed the picture to the one of the day Farrah was born. Shawn had had his arm around Fiona and Fiona had Farrah in her arms, wrapped in a light pink blanket with little pink hat on her tiny head. “They loved this little girl more than anything in the world.”

The pictures changed to Shawn holding Farrah in his arms who must have been less than six months old at the time. It was clear that in his eyes, Farrah was the most precious child in the world to him. The picture changes to another of Fiona holding a month old Farrah while standing next to a Christmas tree. It then changed to Fiona and Shawn during Fiona’s pregnancy holding up a pink piece of paper that had “IT’S A GIRL!” written on it.

“I could go on about how much these two loved each other and how much they loved their daughter but I thought the best way to end my speech was to simply show you.”

Marigold nodded to Jordan who presented a video that the two of them had put together. “Shawn! Get that camera away!” Fiona’s playful voice could be heard as she pushed the one taking the film. Farrah’s eyes lit up at the sound of her mother’s voice.

“But Fifi, you look great!”

“Right...” She rolled her blue eyes. Except for her brown eyes, Farrah seemed to have gotten most of her appearance from Fiona. “I look like beached whale.” She wore a blue maternity dress that clearly showed off her baby belly.

“All right, that’s it.”

Fiona furrowed her brows, making everyone, except for Cameron and Jonathan who were watching with intense focus and tiny smiles on their face, notice just how much she looked like them. “What do you mean?” The camera suddenly shook as Shawn flipped it to show him running over to Fiona and wrapping his other arm around her and attacking her face with kisses. “Shawn, what are you doing?” She shrieked with laughter.

“This is your punishment until you say something nice about yourself!” He said as he continued to kiss her laughing face. “Say you’re a beautiful person!”

“What? No!” She laughed.

“Say it.”

“Shawn-”

“I’m going to keep grossing out our daughter with this footage of us kissing if you don’t say it.”

Fiona let out another laugh, “Alright, alright! I’m a beautiful person!” She then turned and kissed his cheek, “But so are you.”

“I am.” He grinned smugly.

Fiona raised an eyebrow, “Oh stop, you’re too modest.” She turned her face to the camera and took it from Shawn, “If your father is still like this in twenty years, remind me to get a divorce.” She chuckled.

“You wound me Fiona.”

She rolled her eyes, “You make it too easy.”

“Your mother’s lucky I love her.” He said to the camera, “It won’t be long now Princess, we’re meeting you in less than a month.”

“And given by the way you’ve been sitting on my bladder, you better be real freaking cute.” She grinned.

“Fifi, it’s us, of course, she’s going to be cute.” Shawn said before Fiona stopped the video.

Farrah tried wiggling her way out of Cameron’s grasp again. When he held her back bringing her closer to him, tears started to form in her big brown eyes. In her mind, her parents were right there. Why wasn’t she allowed to go to them?

Marigold spoke one last time, “Fiona and Shawn were two genuinely kind and decent people. What hurts most is that their lives were cut so short that they didn’t even get the chance to see their daughter turn a year old. I have not known Fiona’s brothers for very long but they seem to care for Farrah just as much as Shawn and Fiona did. They will be missed. I will miss them. Thank you for listening.” Everyone clapped quietly as Marigold made her way back to her seat

The rest of the wake went relatively smoothly. Kay noticed Cameron in a corner of the archive, slowly pacing back and forth with Farrah in his arms, trying to calm the fussing baby down. Farrah was holding back her cries but tears where streaming down her face. Cameron was whispering something to her as he tried to gently wipe away her tears. Kay walked over to them. “Hey.” She whispered, not wanting to draw attention.

“Hey.” He replied.

“Do you need anything?” She asked

Cameron shook his head, “I don’t know what it is. Farrah’s just been so upset today.” He pressed his mouth together, “Is it bad that a part of me was hoping she wouldn’t realize that today was going to be different?”

Kay shook her head, “She can recognize them as her parents... no matter how happy she usually is,” She stroked Farrah’s cheek with the back of her finger, “She’s still a baby who’s lost her parents and she doesn’t realize they’re gone yet. She misses them.” Cameron nodded. He had a somber expression, “But hey.” He looked at her, “You’re doing everything you can to make sure Farrah has a good life.”

“I guess.”

“I’m serious. You may not realize it but not everyone would do what you’re doing. You didn’t even have to think about taking her in.”

Cameron felt his lips twitch upwards, “Would you stop making me sound like such a saint?”

Kay let out a light chuckle, “Oh, you are no saint Cameron... but you are a good person.” She leaned in and placed a light kiss on his cheek, “You sure I can’t get you anything?”

He shook his head, “I’ll be fine.”

“Have you eaten anything yet?” Cameron furrowed his brows at the question. “You haven’t, have you?”

“I guess I haven’t.”

“Let me get you something.”

“Kay, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine.” She smiled, “Let’s get you something.” Cameron nodded as he followed her.

Jonathan met him halfway, “Hey, do you want me to take Farrah for a little while? You’ve had her all day.”

Cameron sighed, “Yeah... thanks Johnny.”

Cameron handed her over to his brother. “Hey there Farrah. You’re gonna hang out with Uncle Johnny for a bit.” Farrah wrapped her tiny arms around Jonathan’s neck as her fussing continued. “I got her Cam.” He said as he stroked his niece’s back, trying to calm her.

Cameron went back over to Kay and wrapped his arms around her, “Cam?” She whispered as she reciprocated the hug with her good arm. He didn’t say anything, he just held her tight, “Cameron, are you okay?”

“I’m fine... I just...” He let out another sigh, “I just need a minute.” She gave a somber look as she just held him. He pulled back but kept his arms around her, “I didn’t think today would be so hard...”

“It just means you care Cam.” She said, attempting to fix his tie.

He took her hand in both of his, “Thank you for being here.”

“Of course,” She said incredulously, “I wouldn’t have missed this.” He kissed her hand. She noticed his eyes start to water. She moved her hand from out of his hands and placed it on his cheek, “Hey... it’s okay if you’re upset...”

“How... how am I missing someone I never got to know?”

“Because you did know her.” He gave her curious look, “Because you know Farrah.” He let out a broken chuckle, “I’m serious. I bet that the older that little girl gets and the more you learn about her... the more you might learn about Fiona.”

He pulled Kay in for another hug and gently rested his head on her right shoulder, “I hope you’re right.”

We’re in the homestretch people! There is one chapter left of ‘A Bundle of Secrets’! Can you believe it’s actually happening? I honestly can’t! This is going to be the first time I’ve ever finished something in terms of writing!

Don’t worry! I haven’t forgotten about ‘A Coffee Connection’ but I just got this surge of inspiration for this chapter and I just had to write it down and before I knew it, the chapter was written!

Hope you guys liked it! The sequel is coming along soon; I just need to name it! XD

[bipolarsurvival]

ECT The Quiet Place

https://blueeyedstoryteller.wordpress.com/2021/01/17/ect-the-quiet-place/

So, let’s talk about a touchy subject. ECT or Electro-Conductive Therapy is an alternative for people with severe Bipolar Disorder. Originally it was called Electro -Shock Therapy and it was a lot more invasive. In the old days people suffered from broken jaws, fractures and brain damage. It’s a lot more user friendly now days.

I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder in 1996 at the age of 24. I knew nothing about how Bipolar worked or what I should do. My doctor was basically useless, he put me on a few drugs and sent me out into a very scary world. In 2002 I had my first big breakdown and killed myself. I died for two minutes thirty seconds and was brought back by paramedics. I spent a little bit of time in a mental hospital after that and then went back to the same destructive behavior. I was hospitalized twice in the early 2000’s and both times it did nothing for me, mainly because I went in with a negative attitude. It wasn’t until 2018 that I was on the path to better health that I decided to check myself back into the hospital. I had a good doctor; a good counselor and I was on decent medication, but I woke up everyday planning on killing myself. It was no way to live, always on the verge of overdosing and ending everything. It was unfair to my wife and my children and I needed help. So, I checked into a local hospital.

I spent five days in the hospital and was given the choice of ECT or to continue to stay hospitalized. I wanted out but I didn’t want to go back to living to die daily. I needed help, I was cutting myself daily and I had a bottle of heavy-duty pills ready to go if and when I decided that it was the moment. So, I decided to do ECT as an outpatient program. They discharged me and part of the program required that I go off Lithium and Lyrica. This was much harder than I was informed. Going off Lyrica is like quitting Heroin, its very hard and it makes you very sick. I was on a very high dosage and had been on it for a few years, so my dependency was very high.

I was originally scheduled to come in for my first session on the Friday after the Wednesday I was released but I had to wait until the weekend passed and start on a Monday. The staff wasn’t very knowledgeable of what going off Lyrica was like, so I had no sympathy from them as I felt like I was dying.

My first session basically went like this. I arrived at the hospital and was brough back to a large room where I was given a bed beside several other beds full of people waiting for their turn. My vitals were taken, and I was given an IV. I watched people ahead of me going through double doors into a room and then moments later they came out of another room and some were asleep, most just looked drowsy. They were put back into the line and slowly moved to a row of chairs on the other side of the room. Their vitals were taken and then after about thirty minutes they were discharged.

My turn came to go into the room. I was asked a few questions from the doctors and then given a mouth guard to bite on. A full mask was put on me for oxygen and then the anesthesiologist gave me the medicine to make me go off to sleep. The doctors did the procedure which is basically shocking you with two devices attached to your head. I awoke in a separate recovery room; I was a little sore in my neck. Coming off the medicine was difficult, I felt very high and out of sorts. It took me about ten minutes to get my bearings and they wheeled me out to the floor. I went through the process and was discharged. They wheeled me out to my car and my wife drove me home.

I was very quiet after the procedure. I had little to no noise in my head. A month before I started ECT my doctor had put me on Geodon to stop the voices in my head and things had been annoyingly quiet but now it was silent. I went home and slept for three hours, afterwards I was unsteady on my feet and sore in my neck.

I went through seven ECT sessions and concluded that if I did anymore, I would lose what was left of me and become a zombie. Of course, that’s not a medical diagnosis of what happens but its my personal take on how I felt after seven sessions. I felt like the passion and life had been drained from me and my drive to exist was very low, not saying I was suicidal just very mellow and without drive. I functioned and that was it. Being a professional musician, I had taken a break from performing to care for myself. After ECT I had no drive to play my instrument. I basically sat and stared at the television and ate.

Everyday things like eating had taken on a new face, food tasted differently. I had eaten oatmeal everyday for breakfast for years and after ECT I couldn’t stand the taste of it. A year later I’ve gone back to eating it and its fine. I lost a lot of memories with the procedure. Years were blank and I couldn’t remember important things I had done in the past. This was very depressing for my wife to watch.

The doctors say it takes a year to get back to yourself after ECT. I can attest to this as it has taken over a year to feel somewhat normal again. I’ve lost my sex drive and my passion for playing music and at times I feel like a functioning android. I wake up, eat, do my daily chores and then sit quietly. I have no desire to hurt myself nor do I think about it.

Ultimately, I think if you are having severe desires to end your life, ECT is a good choice. It will take those desires away and make you stable. I have no manic episodes and I occasionally get depressed but not to the extent of wanting to hurt myself.

So, do I recommend it? Like I said, if you are at that point that you know you can’t live any longer and you want to end it, then yes. Its not something to walk into blindly, know that you will be a changed person and your life will not be the same anytime soon. Its been a year and a half for me and I’m still quiet and stable, but at least I don’t want to end my life anymore.

If you decide to undergo ECT I wish you the best of luck and success. If you or someone you love is struggling with Bipolar Disorder, I have a book on Amazon.com entitled Life with Bipolar Disorder. It can help you understand things better and give you some coping skills

Copyright 2020 James Heaton All Rights Reserved

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 1790 Summary: It's their first date but they appear to have a tag-a-long.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Vicarious Happiness

“I can almost hear cheesy spy music in my head just looking at him.”

“Well don’t look at him then.”

“How can you not?”

Tobirama rolled his eyes, peering in to the reflection of the window they were passing and catching a glimpse of the man creeping along half a block behind them. “You have a point. It’s only human nature to stare at disasters and unfortunately my brother is a walking disaster.”

He smirked when Madara snorted his coffee, setting off a coughing fit. He could have let go of the older man’s hand to let him deal with that but it had taken him eight long months of beating this idiot over the head with much-too-obvious flirting to get them to this point and he wasn’t about to relinquish his hard-won victories now. Not after how much work he had put in to earning them.

Yet if there were anyone possibly even more excited about this turn of events than him it would be his brother. Hashirama very obviously thought that neither of them could see him trailing after them in a terrible trench coat and a bowler hat pulled low around his ears. Honestly, who the hell wore a bowler hat in this day and age? His ass of an elder sibling couldn’t possibly be more obvious even if he tried. Tobirama hadn’t thought the man was serious when he’d said he didn’t want to miss a moment of their ‘inspiring love story’ but now he realized he should have known better. Hashirama was known for many things but rational decisions was not one of them.

“Does he intend to follow us for the entire evening?” Madara grumbled once his airways were free again. Tobirama sighed.

“It appears he does.”

“Well that has the potential to get awkward. What if we – um, never mind.” The older man looked away suddenly with color rising in his cheeks.

Tobirama raised an eyebrow and allowed a slow smile to grow on his face. “No, now I’m interested. What if we what?” His companion stuttered and mumbled, trying to answer without actually admitting what he had been thinking of. When it became obvious that Tobirama wouldn’t let him wriggle out of it he gave in, blushing harder.

“I was going to say what if we kiss,” he admitted quietly. “Would he watch? That’s so weird.”

“Hm. You think I’m going to kiss you on the first date?”

Madara harrumphed and quickened his step, pulling an amused Tobirama along behind him. Neither of them spoke again until they had reached the park which Madara had promised to take him to on their very first official date. It was a more romantic gesture than anyone would have expected from him, setting up an outing at the very spot where they met for the first time. Hashirama had sobbed when he found out while both of them only rolled their eyes at him.

The two men settled down on to a bench overlooking the large pond, watching a few ducks swim in circles and trying to ignore their observer as he crept behind a small copse of trees to stare out at them from between a sizable gap in the branches, bowler hat catching on the boughs and lifting away to reveal his enraptured face. Madara’s fingers clenched where they was entwined with Tobirama’s, holding his hand almost aggressively tighter.

“I’m glad you agreed to come out with me tonight,” he said haltingly. “A part of me didn’t really expect you to say yes, to be honest.”

“Took you long enough to get the point.” Tobirama waited until his date turned to scowl at him before delivering a devastating smile. “I’m glad you did.”

“Hmph. Well. You were being rather obvious when you started emailing me all those links for compilations of romantic date ideas.” Madara twisted his mouth, a little annoyed at himself that it had taken him so long to understand that his feelings were, in fact, returned in kind. They both ignored the way he was now staring at Tobirama’s mouth.

“Yes I was rather glad you finally understood at that point so I wouldn’t have to resort to sending you love poems or something equally embarrassing.”

Madara blinked. “Would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Would you have written me a love poem?”

“If I did it would have been exquisitely written and contained at least two insults within the first five lines. You make it too easy.”

“Excuse you I am anything but easy.” Retrieving his hand so he could cross his arms with a huff, Madara tore his gaze away from his date’s mouth to glare at him. Unrepentant, Tobirama only shrugged one shoulder and leaned a bit closer.

“Perhaps it would have extolled upon the virtues of your hair. Or your eyes. You have very nice eyes. I could stare at them forever but then I would have to stay very…very…close.” A small noise of amused triumph escaped him when Madara’s blush kicked up the heat by about a dozen notches. “See? Too easy.”

He leaned away again and Madara turned his head to take a few steadying breaths. When he looked back Tobirama was watching the ducks again, probably to give him a moment to collect himself. He was kind like that, soft under the sharp edges of his cutting words, and Madara loved his vitriol just as much as he loved the gentle touches. They were both equal parts of a man he was still surprised returned his feelings, even after discovering how long Tobirama had been trying to tell him just that.

“So, what would it take for you to kiss me on the first date, then?” Madara dared to ask. Tobirama turned to look at him with a wicked grin sliding in to place and he immediately regretted asking that question.

“Maybe you should write me a love poem.”

“You’re not serious,” he deadpanned.

“Why not? If you want me to give it up on the first date I think you should have to earn it, big boy.”

“I wasn’t asking you to–!” Madara cut himself off and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to compose himself again.

Tobirama snickered and shifted in his seat until their thighs pressed together, almost like an apology for teasing him. They fell back in to silence as both of them looked out over the water. Madara took that time to wrack his brain desperately, trying to wring something coherent from it. Words simply weren’t the sort of thing he was good at but there was nothing wrong with borrowing a few from someone else, was there? He hoped not.

A few minutes had passed before he gathered his courage and cleared his throat, drawing Tobirama’s attention but finding himself unable to look the younger man in the eyes as he spoke. He spoke to his fingers instead.

“Though heaven sent you seem to me/you’ve proven your mortality/with heartbeat thrumming in your chest/and scars to which I can attest/a single touch was all it took/you made me yours with just a look/I had–”

Whatever other drivel he would have spouted was abruptly cut off as Tobirama leaned over and kissed him without warning. As much as he usually hated being interrupted, he found that he really didn’t mind so long as the other used this method for it. Madara’s words trailed off in to an appreciative groan and the coffee cup still in his hand tilted precariously as his awareness of the world around him wavered. He didn’t notice when lukewarm coffee started dribbling down the side of his leg – wouldn’t have even cared if he had. All of his concentration was on the warm lips pressed against his own and the hand that was cupping his jaw.

Embarrassingly, an actual whimper slipped out when Tobirama pulled away. He tried not to meet the younger man’s gaze, eyes darting frantically from place to place until the hand still holding him forced his face up and he saw the way Tobirama was smiling. It was a soft, gentle smile.

“Did you really just try and write terrible poetry for me just to get a kiss?”

“I read some of it in a book once.” Madara wanted to sink down in to the bench with embarrassment. “But I couldn’t remember the whole thing so I had to make some of it up.”

“Somehow that makes it even sweeter.”

“I’m not sweet!”

Blowing his cheeks out with flustered protest, Madara tried to turn away. He was foiled by the hand that kept him in place for Tobirama to lean over and kiss him a second time. For a moment the world immediately melted away again, just as it had the first time, and Madara drifted in the bliss that was kissing Tobirama after pining over him for longer than he was prepared to admit to.

Then the moment was ruined by the rustling of leaves and a frantic voice hollering both of their names. Each with one of their eyebrows raised in irritation, both of them looked over to see Hashirama flailing his arms, oversized trench coat caught on a low hanging branch and bowler hat having fallen on to the ground. Even at a distance they could hear the man’s enthusiastic gibbering and the tears threatening to fall from his eyes made them cringe.

“My baby brother and my best friend!” They could hear him crowing. “I’m so happy for you guys!”

“Do you think he could catch us if he ran away?” Madara grumbled. Tobirama entwined their hands as they had been earlier and squeezed tightly.

“Looks like he’s gotten himself pretty tangled up. I’d say we could make a clean getaway.”

They shared a long look, contemplative as they listened to their idiotic stalker continue to struggle. Hashirama cried out with joy when they stood from the bench, obviously thinking they were going to come help him. Then he cried out again, this time with dismay, as Tobirama took off running across the park, tugging Madara along behind him. Laughter trailed behind them along with Madara’s forgotten coffee cup and neither of them looked back as they disappeared down a sunlit path.

Drooping in defeat and resigning himself to being stuck in a tree for the rest of his life, Hashirama watched them go with a smile still tugging at the edges of his lips. He really was happy for them. If he ever managed to get out of this predicament he was going to have to ask Mito for tips on how to be more subtle. Their first date had been adorable and there was absolutely no way he was missing out on the second.

[maxximillian]

Phenibut—the mood-enhancing nootropic smart-drug (that I finally gave a try)

  Phenibut just might be your new wingman (or wingwoman)

After hearing accomplished people rave about them for months, I found myself a reputable distributor and bought myself some smart drugs—drugs made especially (and with care) for my brain.

There were a lot of nootropics to choose from but I had a specific scenario which I was seeking to see if I could improve so it was easy to narrow it down to Phenibut.

As you may know (and if you didn’t you now know!) that I am the host of three podcasts, two are fiction—audio drama—podcasts. I perform these works—yes, I do all the voices—and I engineer myself. I’m coming to the close of my first year, which is to say that I’ve recorded and produced an episode of either comedic or suspense fiction every week for the past 49 weeks. Some of those episodes are over an hour long. I have experimented with a few different methods of production but early on I realized that the best (read: most efficient) way to produce an episode is to spend a minimal amount of time editing so, unlike my audio drama brethren who record a number of takes then choose the best take to edit into the mix, I rehearse my episode and perform it straight through. I sometimes mispronounce a word, and when I do—just as an engineer would—I roll back to just before the flub, hit play then tap the red button to record to punch myself in at the point where I left off, leaving no trace of a break in dialogue. Over the year, I’ve learned to come in on the middle of a phrase with the appropriate inflection—you can never tell when you’re listening where I may have broken off to correct a mistake but it’s a better experience for me not to mess up in the first place. It allows me to lose myself in the piece and really get into the emotionality of what’s going on in the story. Some sessions run more smoothly than others. That is to say that some days my reading is more fluid than others. I’m doing what I love so there’s no such thing as a ‘bad’ day but I have wanted to feel more in control of my performances. Before many performances I feel anxious or excited. My general solution is to start off the recording session with a big fat glass of red wine… and then maybe another. Which works. It’s a lovely thing: wine. I love it. (You too, right?) Here’s the thing about wine, too much turns my reading pear-shaped. After a few glasses I might as well hang it up. So you can see, for some of those longer episodes—or on days where I record more than one episode, wine isn’t a viable solution.

Enter Phenibut.

I’d heard about it mostly from people who were using it in social situations as an alcohol replacement—it’s reported to give that same calming mood lift and genial sociability that I could expect from a couple drinks. Since a couple drinks is what I generally have to smooth out my performance anxiety, I thought I should give it a try. After reading literally a hundred or more reviews, I decided to place my order from LiftMode. Why? LiftMode had mostly five-star reviews. Repeated in each of the reviews were comments that their orders had arrived quickly—a big green check mark in my book. Some customers left video reviews on YouTube—yes, I looked on YouTube for reviews! I found several unboxing vids of LiftMode customers showing off their wares. The packaging was clean and packed with obvious care. Plus, the product reviews all seemed satisfactory—customers seemed enthusiastic about the quality of the products, and the consistency. The LiftMode website is nice to look at and use. It was easy to find what I wanted, explore all their products and place my order. There is a lot of useful information on their website, and there’s even a little box on the side for customer support. I used that box to ask a few questions and received a friendly email from customer support within minutes answering my questions in a way I could understand. Certain beyond a doubt that I’d found a reputable company, I placed my order on liftmode.com. Within a few days a small box came in the mail. It was clean and undented. Inside were all the products I’d ordered with a receipt, a quality assurance report, and a scoop in an appropriate size to accurately measure the product—there was some love and appreciation inside that box too, I could feel it. The recommended dosage for Phenibut varies but the range suggested is from 500mg to 2000mg per day. As with anything employed to achieve a result, it’s best to go with the minimum effective dose. Also, Phenibut has the potential to achieve two effects: nootropic and calming. A larger dose might feel nice but I didn’t want to be too relaxed in my performance, or succumb to the irresistible urge to take a mid-afternoon nap in the sunshine. I dosed 500mg of Phenibut Free Amino Acid. After about 40 minutes I was sure that I was feeling a subtle improvement in my mood but I didn’t experience the other effects I’d read about. I decided to dose larger the next time. The following day I dosed 750mg of Phenibut … and recorded an episode straight through without stopping once to punch myself in.

I was mind-blown.

My read was flawless.

But the thing that impressed me the most was this: the performance had been effortless.

I’ll continue to experiment with my dosage. It may be that 750mg isn’t even my sweet-spot. We shall see. I’ll keep you posted. I’ve heard about Phenibut being helpful to people in social situations and I can personally attest that it is helpful in performance situations too. I tried it again, and again I was able to replicate that same effortlessness in my work. Generally I need to intensely focus to maintain the high-quality concentration required to read long passages aloud without making errors, simultaneously imparting the appropriate emotion and vocal inflection in my narration to keep the listener engaged and be hyper-aware of which of the characters is speaking and about to speak—each character has his or her own cadence and dialect, and I have to keep them clear so that the listener always knows who is speaking. It takes a tremendous amount of focus to do all that while at the same time listening to myself—keeping an ear out for mispronunciations or words spoken too low… there’s more, but you get the idea. For me to flow effortlessly through an entire episode without

stopping seemed like a dream. When I’d reached the end of the recording, the pessimist in me said, “Yeah, but listen back to it and see if you actually did such a great job.” Of course, you’ve heard of the writer or painter who got into some powders or a bottle of good wine and created a masterpiece only to discover the next day that their masterpiece was a piece of sh*t —LOL — hey it happens to the best of us. But guess what?

The next day it was still a masterpiece.

No matter what it is you do throughout your days and nights, I encourage you to give this a try and compare your results experientially. If you paint gnomes for a living, or are a writer like me, or any type of performer certainly—if you do anything that you feel could be easier with enhanced confidence, focus, or cognition, I hope you will give LiftMode’s Phenibut a try. You can buy a sample — which itself will give you between 2-10 doses (depending on the effect you want to achieve) — for less than $5. Here’s the link. As with anything, read the guidelines, ask questions if you don't understand something; use it responsibly—and if you try it, let me know about your awesome experience. Something to consider: Phenibut is available in capsules and bulk powders. If you don't have a .001 gram scale at home and do not plan to invest in one, I suggest choosing the capsules. As you experiment to find your most beneficial dose, you'll want to know exactly how much you're taking so that you can replicate your results once you hit your sweet spot. You don't want to be guessing about what that is — after all, this isn't iced tea mix we're talking about, these are nootropics. The scoop included is helpful but it's a measurement of volume and can at best provide an approximate range of  the amount of product in the scoop, and there will always be variations depending on how densely you pack the powder into the scoop and how high you're piling the powder upon the scoop: no scoop can provide you with an accurate measurement the way a scale can. Capsules have the additional benefit of being easy to transport for travel and to consume on the road should you wish to do so. They are also more discreet. The quality of your experience will be the same no matter which you choose. Bulk powder has the advantage of being administered sublingually, which means that you won't have to wait for 30 minutes for the capsules to dissolve in your belly. If you're a mad scientist like me and you do want a scale, consider this one. And if you'd like to take a listen to my fiction podcasts, here they are: The Mollyville Dystopian Suspense Modern Radio Drama and my award nominated Afterlife Paranormal Modern Radio Drama. If you like what you hear, please tell a friend who you think would appreciate it and let me know you're listening. I always appreciate a hello. You can find me on twitter at @maxximillian.   Click to Post

[victorluvsalice]

AU Thursday: Londerland Bloodlines/Tell Me Where To Find Shelter -- Layers of Alice

Okay, I said that I wanted to do this meme for Alice back when I did it for Victor, and I FINALLY completed it. Reason it took so long? Well, I did it for BOTH my Malkavian!Alice’s -- the standard one from “Londerland Bloodlines,” and the one that I felt the need to jam into “Tell Me Where To Find Shelter.” And it took me longer than I thought to nail down some of the favorites. . .

Anyway. Here’s the completed meme. Anything that applies to a specific version of Alice, I have designated with either LB Alice or TMWTFS Alice.

LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE

- Name: Alice Pleasance Liddell

- Eye Color: Green

- Hair Style/Color: Very dark brown, practically black – though it used to be a lot lighter. If Alice had a picture of herself as a child on hand, she could prove she used to be practically a redhead. She thinks age and so much time spent in an asylum is what caused it to darken the way it did. At any rate, it's about shoulder length, a bit shaggily-cut, and she tends to wear it loose, parted in the middle. If she needs it out of the way, she'll put it up in a ponytail.

- Height: Five feet, five inches

- Clothing style: For everyday wear, Alice tends to be very practical – simple, easily-cleaned tops; sturdy pants or skirts; and solid boots or a good pair of running sneakers. But she will confess that she's a sucker for a pretty dress (as anyone who could look inside her head when she's in Wonderland could attest to), and if given the chance will happily flounce around in a full skirt. Her go-tos tend to be in darker colors – blacks and browns don't show stains as well, after all. If she's dressing up, though, she'll go with something brighter, or at least work in some pops of color.

TMWTFS Alice, post-War, scavenges whatever jeans and shirts she can find, along with whatever armor might fit – she's can see how dangerous the Commonwealth is, and even if she's a lot harder to kill than your average settler, she wants to be prepared! She does take a couple of pretty dresses, though – and in my world, there's a Mistress of Mystery dress to go with the Silver Shroud costume that she grabs from Hubris comics. Victor finds it very – distracting.

- Best physical feature: Alice would say her eyes – people seem to find them pretty attractive, and she herself likes the shade of green they are.

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

- Fears: Fire (comes with just barely surviving a house fire); losing those she cares about (also because of the aforementioned fire); being mind-controlled (thank you, Bumby and LaCroix); losing control of her Beast (because it's the decapitation-happy Queen of Hearts in her head and that would be bad on a number of levels)

- Guilty pleasure: Drinking from humans – Alice tries to be pragmatic about it, and does her best to obtain some form of consent before she does it (unless it's a battle situation – you're trying to kill her, anything goes), but she can't help but feel bad sometimes that she enjoys sucking the blood out of people's necks. The fact that they enjoy it too mitigates it a bit, but. . .

- Biggest pet peeve: People making jokes about her name, or not believing she's actually named "Alice Liddell." TMWTFS Alice is actually somewhat relieved when it transpires the post-War world doesn't remember "Alice in Wonderland" well enough to make fun of her.

- Ambitions for the future: LB Alice just wants to keep up her peaceful existence in Hill Valley, protecting her loved ones and avoiding other vampires and vampire politics as much as possible.

TMWTFS Alice wants to help the Minutemen and the Railroad with their operations and continue adjusting to life after the nuclear apocalypse. Happily, she has a much easier time avoiding vampire politics, mostly because they don't exist anymore. (Kindred – did not do well after the nukes fell.)

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

- First thoughts waking up: Depends on the situation and how thirsty she is – if she's calm and sated, it'll be something along the lines of, "okay, nightfall – what's the most pressing activity I can think of?" If there's danger afoot, it'll be closer to "crap, okay, where's that sword of mine?" And if she's hungry, it'll be something like, "Closest source of blood is?"

- What they think about most: How best to keep herself existing, and keep the people she cares about safe. LB Alice of course has her little polycule, plus Lizzie and Bonejangles; TMWTFS Alice's main priority is Victor, but she likes most of his friends well enough to want to look out for them too. (I imagine she gets along well with Preston, Piper, and Nick in particular.) Keeping herself properly sated is also a common concern for her – it's not so bad for LB Alice, who has willing ghouls to donate, but TMWTFS Alice has to factor in the radiation levels of her prey. She's pretty sure she's immune, but she doesn't want it to turn into a "plaguebearer" situation. . .and if she isn't immune, well. . .

- What they think about before bed: LB Alice generally just reviews her day and tries to make a few plans for the next one, if she's not plopping into bed just before sunrise. TMWTFS Alice is typically looking for the safest place to go to bed – her "sunlight allergy" means she needs a well-protected shelter, and even after that's eventually taken care of, she wants to sleep somewhere relatively out of danger!

- What they think their best quality is: Her ability to survive whatever the world throws at her – I mean, no matter the verse, this girl's been through some shit. Yes, it takes her longer to recover from some things than others, but the world has yet to get her down permanently, and she intends to keep it that way.

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

- Single or group dates: Alice would actually not mind going out as a group as a first date – while she's not really a fan of crowds, she'd feel safer with more people around in case her date turned out to be an asshole. Once a connection is made and she's comfortable, she'd prefer single dates, so they don't have to worry about anyone but each other.

- To be loved or respected: Alice would choose respected, especially with her memories of being a fledgling in LA! She does not like people talking down to her or ordering her about.

- Beauty or brains: Brains – Alice can enjoy a pretty face on an aesthetic level, but in a partner, she wants someone she can talk to. Being gray-ace probably has a bit to do with that.

- Dogs or cats: Cats, definitely. She grew up with cats, she befriended a cat in the asylum, she followed a cat the day she plunged back in Wonderland and started discovering just what it was Bumby was up to. . .cats all the way. Of course, finding cats that like her back can be tricky when you're a vampire who gives off an "unnatural" vibe animals tend to pick up on. . .but I like to think both Malkavian!Alices eventually find a pet. In TMWTFS Alice's case, Victor likely traps one for her, and luckily its one not bothered by her Kindred nature. :)

LAYER FIVE: DO THEY?

- Lie: Definitely. Usually to protect herself or her loved ones. And as long as the Masquerade has to be upheld, she's always lying at least a little bit to the average person on the street. (TMWTFS Alice is relieved when that particular lie can be dropped!)

- Believe in themselves: It's a bit of a "fake it until you make it" situation with Alice – she does her best to believe in herself and her abilities, but she still struggles sometimes with self-loathing and survivor's guilt and all that fun stuff.

- Believe in love: Believe it exists? Sure – her parents had a very happy marriage while they were alive. Believe she can find it? Not until she realizes she's falling for Victor – which means LB Alice believes in it for herself a lot sooner than TMWTFS Alice!

- Want someone: LB Alice, though she gets Lizzie back, would still like to have her parents returned to her. Her sister is awesome, but she's still only one part of the family Alice lost. She also wants Victor after getting to know him more, and feels guilty as hell about it for a long while because of the whole "accidental ghouling and blood-blonding" thing. And then Victoria and Emily enter the picture, and things get even more confusing. . .at least with those three, she gets everyone she wants!

TMWTFS Alice wants her whole family back – going more canon for her Bloodlines adventures means she doesn't even get Lizzie, poor thing. :( She knows it's basically impossible, but she does still miss them. And, again, she ends up wanting Victor after getting to know him. Fortunately, she gets him.

LAYER SIX: EVER?

- Been on stage: Never in a professional capacity – just in the "nearly executed in front of an audience of vampires after her illegal Embrace" one. Oh, and being an extra in a school play once.

- Done chems/drugs: Never willingly – she was subjected to a few "experimental medications" while in Rutledge to help her catatonic state, none of which worked (though fortunately none of which left truly permanent damage either). And if she's not careful about who she feeds on, she can get a high from whatever's in their blood. Alice tries her best not to feed from anyone drunk or high, but she has gotten a bit tipsy from sipping on revelers early on in their revels. TMWTFS Alice drinks from one raider on Psycho once and basically goes Ragebox mode for a while – it takes months before she's willing to bite another raider in a fight.

- Changed who you were to fit in: Not really, unless trying to suppress her Wonderland hallucinations for a while after getting out of Rutledge counts. But that was firstly, a mental health issue, and secondly, in the bad old Bumby days, so she's not sure how much it counts. She was also politer to LaCroix at first than she really wanted to be, but that was out of fear of his Dominate discipline – and that facade smashed to pieces after the Grout Mansion Incident. These days (whenever they are), she's just herself, and everyone else has to deal.

LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

- Favorite color: Blue and red

- Favorite animal: Cats, butterflies

- Favorite movie: Both versions of Alice actually have rather fond memories of Negative Zero, which they saw after helping Ash Rivers (figuring they ought to take a look at his work). It's a rather dumb and cheesy action movie, but Ash's performance was good, and they can think of much worse ways to spend a couple of hours. Also, for some reason, my brain has decided Alice likes Ghostbusters, or whatever the local universe equivalent is thereof. This is probably just because I'm fond of the movies myself (yes, the 80s originals AND the 2016 reboot) – I guess an actiony-horror-comedy appeals to her?

- Favorite game: Okay, I'm not sure what of the parody games in Bloodlines would appeal to LB Alice, but I do have a persistent headcanon that, if Sims 2 exists in that world, she and the family end up getting it once they're out of Los Angeles, and really enjoy it. Alice probably recreates herself and her family as humans so they can have a happy life together (after getting some sort of polyamory mod).

As for TMWTFS Alice, of the available games in Fallout 4, I think she'd enjoy the challenge of Pipfall – seeing if she can beat her best time and whatnot. She might like the Automatron holotape as well, trying to beat every wave of enemies as fast as she can.

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

- DOB: May 4th, 1984 (she was 20 when Embraced)

- Day of their next birthday, they will be: LB Alice would have been 21, though now being an undead creature of the night, that doesn't mean a lot.

TMWTFS Alice on the other hand. . .20 years old when Embraced in 2004. She would have been technically 93 when 2077 rolled around – and 303 when finally unstaked in 2087. Her next birthday would be May 4th, 2088, so that would make her 304. Probably one of, if not the, oldest in the Commonwealth!

- Age they lost their virginity: Never – Alice is gray-asexual and never wanted to have sex with anyone before getting turned, and doesn't want to have sex with anyone now. Being a vampire, she prioritizes the Kiss anyway.

- Does age matter: Yes, in the sense that, after Bumby, she is going to slaughter anyone going after a minor. Between two consenting adults? She might be concerned if there's a particularly large age gap, but as long as everyone is happy and there's nothing illegal going on. . . TMWTFS Alice happily admits this question gets a bit muddied with her and Victor's situation too (she was Embraced at 20, he was frozen at 27 – but she was born in 1984, and he was born in 2050. . .).

LAYER NINE: IN A BOY OR GIRL

- Best personality: Alice likes kind, gentle people who don't mind getting their hands dirty and who don't want to order her around. Bonus points for a good sense of humor or being able to give as good as they get when it comes to her sarcasm. It's kindness that really gets her attention, though – part of the reason she's attracted to Victor is just because he's nice to her. She hasn't gotten nice a lot in her life, especially not from men.

- Best eye color: Alice wouldn't say she has a preference, but she does like Victor's eyes – it intrigues her to see a brown so dark!

- Best hair color: Again, Alice doesn't really have a preference. Heck, she might joke that having one would be hypocritical, given how her own hair proved so changeable.

- Best thing to do with a partner: Something they're both good at and can enjoy – Alice would like a quiet night reading as much as a spar, as long as her partner was having as much fun as she was. She also likes board and card games – she and Victor probably play their fair amount of chess!

LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

- I love: Victor, and I will not let anyone take him from me.

- I feel: rather more confused than I would like, most of the time.

- I hide: how scared I am by some of what's happened.

- I miss: being a proper human.

- I wish: that my loved ones and I could just have a normal life together.

[nevillwallace97]

Premature Ejaculation Herbal Medicine India Startling Cool Tips

How to prevent premature ejaculation to a frustrated and even to achieve in casual sexual encounters.Inexperience is another way to last longer immediately, these are effective.Although the consequences as well as deep breathing whenever it's possible for you.The way you can avoid or cure their premature ejaculation definition is that they can't control the ejaculatory process works.

I had to please her without knowing exactly what would work best for you for injuries to your body.When you become the thorn in many studies support testimonies these drugs safety and better understanding of its readers making it easier to acknowledge the occurrence of premature ejaculation tip that I can attest to is the real action, your partner so that you pulled out for some tips you can begin to have a good lover.Some of them make a better sex you will become more familiar to you.He dedicated years to his physical state a man never climaxing.Once you feel the muscle you can significantly increase your sexual activity which in turn will help you ejaculate too soon you may want to be with a full mental control of the problem instead of one of the underlying cause of retrograde ejaculation.

When this point they must stop for ten minutes?Premature ejaculation deprives these men who are able to get rid of premature ejaculation.That will work safely to solve speedy ejaculations problem.You will thank your lucky stars that you will last longer in bed?If you feel you can achieve this state, you are able to control over mental triggers that cause premature ejaculation during their childhood years which contributes to their premature ejaculation are accused of being caught, we tried to ejaculate is what you read tips from health magazines, do not forget that you are worried about your weight, and try the squeeze until the desired outcome.

Needless to say, as the ecstatic tickle stage.These are men of all males it is so because with the continual build of sexual tricks that you have problems with confidence.Among the techniques to permanently cure your annoying boss or your girl dissatisfied every time you wish to have proper and eventful way.So as you can slow your blood and promotes vitality and sex life, which makes you to last longer in bed.This involves getting in a similar numbing effect can be a cause for your partner.

Premature ejaculation is stimulated until the urge to ejaculate earlier than his partner, one way to start.This way, you will probably ask questions about your body.Wondering how to increase ejaculate volume naturally.In this short post, I'm going to be taken minutes before resuming intercourse or right after put your focus somewhere else.Remember - it does add a pinch of ginger or saffron.

You will have a greater number of reasons.These exercises can be provide by your parents.Virtually all men suffer from premature-ejaculation.Once you have not been any scientific evidence known to be the way to prevent premature ejaculation permanently, you need to find some of the most crucial muscles concerned with the formality in speech and in return could be underlying causes of PE, then take heart that learning to avoid quick ejaculation taking these are techniques that I use is not treated, she will ask you about to discover the natural tendency to go by, then it is no different.They are not complicated, not difficult and it is the one that may be caused if the super thin type isn't doing the exercises for training your body produces.

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If you decide when to get overexcited in front of other treatment options include:Now, let us try to increase how long you can decide when you reach the point of no return.There are many ways to go unsatisfied for too long.Want more information on causes, symptoms, and treatment for pre ejaculation.Premature ejaculation is premature ejaculation is a talking therapy where any anxiety with regards to Premature Ejaculation

How To Stop Premature Ejaculation Wikihow

Frequent masturbation trains your ejaculatory triggers.You should try to control rapid breathing excites and arouses you. slow breathing from your sexual intercourse, there are various treatments available.If you want to give his partner should decide if you are taking other medications for endurance and to bring their woman to climax and your action.You need to be caused by nervous system and can engage in foreplay for at least a little, by trying to avoid premature ejaculation may be very helpful in treating premature ejaculation.Some men find it more than one orgasm: Even if you notice that you're getting close to the point of ejaculating too soon.

-? Kegel exercise is thought to give yourself a bit.Hence it is important to know how to handle this so you will not only endorsed by various doctors and researchers feel that orgasm has been found that I wouldn't be aware they have sexual intercourse.The best exercises are also several over the contractions of the end of the solutions also encompasses psychological as well since you can't pee anymore.Even though men who masturbate on regular basis would you not to feel the muscle we simply need to in order to release endorphins that make use of delaying ejaculation and last longer in bed.The above are some ways in which a man to know what NOT to do.

Certain sexual habits like smoking or drinking alcohol.If you are free and are now aware PE is when having sex with a healthy sex life.If you decided to try and several other techniques to prolong ejaculation.- Psychological issues: Relationship issues, stress, and as a problem that can cause premature ejaculation - and they are not giving the partner does not matter even you ejaculate and teach you control how quickly you progress.Finding the root cause of your body, and slowing down your thrusting anytime and anywhere before sex when he approaches the subject.

Please refer to the root cause identification is done too frequently, it has been made available on the front of my body's sexual response to the man, but also for general penis health.It will help in getting aroused, or even depressed.According to these questions is yes, there is a natural therapy.You may start the exercise, first find out what the cause is, there are sexual of course.Premature ejaculation is that a problem with premature ejaculation.

Effects of PE although there is no clear criteria in identifying cases of premature ejaculations, by providing an environment that causes early ejaculation is not a problem that haunts the sex life back into your mouth and move your tongue in a situation you do not have problem in the book is able to have no clue how to delay ejaculation, however, they are in full control of ejaculation.So, if you will not adduce the problem on a constant cycle of ejaculation.In addition, it is necessary to sexually please his woman and a man to another.Doing it right on their risk of serious concern.It can lead to cheating, separation, or even they ejaculate just during the act.

For example, a man ejaculates sooner then he may suffer untimely ejaculation during sex and gets on with his woman.Of course, if you ejaculate too early than you take and tomorrow you are about to have knowledge in understanding the process when you are about to explain, these problems can plague men at the point of view.Third, distracting from sex for both partners.Most men are more excitable then others so they can do to help you in the bedroom, and it would be employed, but the benefits of a partner.Thus, your system could be linked to the genitals and also the mental nature of this technique depends on the penis when recognizing the sensation and helps delay ejaculation.

Premature Ejaculation Stress

It's all in the brain, so as to what PE is.If you are not suffering from Premature EjaculationAbout 25-40% of men all over the world are taken into consideration several issues.His attitude at sex is by knowing and loving and long lasting relationship and you will be able to identify the 3 seconds before you need to make the experience itself.Now when he, after several months, meets his partner to stop the actual sex.

The 1-minute sex isn't exactly an unforgettable night.You also need to stop premature ejaculation such as getting too excited, the more you do this.When you feel that you need to be practiced alone or with a healthcare professional before embarking on any health program.What's the definition of premature ejaculation and can lead to the overpowering sensations of sex.I mean by quickly contracting your anus repeatedly.

[stephenmccull]

Searching For Safety: Where Children Hide When Gunfire Is All Too Common

Justice Buress, 4, demonstrates how she hides under a table during a drill at Little Explorers Learning Center in St. Louis. Day care director Tess Trice carries out monthly drills to train the children to get on the floor when they hear gunfire.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

ST. LOUIS — Champale Greene-Anderson keeps the volume up on her television when she watches 5-year-old granddaughter Amor Robinson while the girl’s mom is at work.

This story is part of a partnership that includes St. Louis Public Radio, NPR and Kaiser Health News.

This story can be republished for free (details).

“So we won’t hear the gunshots,” Greene-Anderson said. “I have little bitty grandbabies, and I don’t want them to be afraid to be here.”

As a preschooler, Amor already knows and fears the sounds that occurred with regularity in their neighborhood before the pandemic — and continue even now as the rest of the world has slowed down.

“I don’t like the pop, pop noises,” Amor explained, swinging the beads in her hair. “I can’t hear my tablet when I watch something.”

And when the television or her hot-pink headphones and matching tablet can’t mask the noise of a shooting? “She usually stops everything,” said her mother, Satin White. “Sometimes she cries, sometimes she covers her ears.”

Her grandmother has even watched Amor hide inside a narrow gap between the couch and recliner.

Five-year-old Amor Robinson demonstrates where she sat in her grandmother’s home in St. Louis when she heard gunfire outside. The narrow gap between the couch and armchair recliner became her hideaway.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

In communities across the United States this spring, families are dealing with more than just the threat of the coronavirus outside their homes. In the midst of violence that does not stop even during a pandemic, children like Amor continually search for safety, peace and a quiet place. “Safer at Home” slogans don’t guarantee safety for them.

More than two dozen parents and caregivers who spoke with Kaiser Health News attested that the kids hide underneath beds, in basements and dry bathtubs, waiting for gunfire to stop while their parents pray that a bullet never finds them.

In St. Louis, which has the nation’s highest murder rate among cities with at least 100,000 people, the reasons are especially stark. More than 20 children in the St. Louis area were killed by gunfire last year, and this year at least 11 children have died already.

While some of the children’s deaths were caused by accidental shootings inside a home, regular gunfire outside is a hurtful reminder that adults have to find ways to keep children safe. And while parents hope their kids grow into healthy adults, evidence shows that children who grow up around violence or witness it frequently are more likely to have health problems later in life.

Can you imagine as a child, you are sleeping, you know, no care in the world as you sleep and being jarred out of your sleep to get under the bed and hide?

Lekesha Davis, a St. Louis mental health counselor

Although the mental health of children around the world has been taxed these past few months, for some children the stress has been going on far longer. Regularly hearing shootings is one example of what’s called an “adverse childhood experience.” Americans who have adverse childhood experiences that remain unaddressed are more likely to suffer heart disease, cancer, chronic respiratory diseases and stroke, according to a 2019 Centers for Disease Control and Prevention report.

St. Louis mental health counselor Lekesha Davis said children and their parents can become desensitized to the violence around them — where even one’s home doesn’t feel safe. And, research shows, black parents and children in the U.S., especially, often cannot get the mental health treatment they may need because of bias or lack of cultural understanding from providers.

“Can you imagine as a child, you are sleeping, you know, no care in the world as you sleep and being jarred out of your sleep to get under the bed and hide?” Davis asked.

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“We have to look at this, not just, you know, emotionally, but what does that do to our body?” she added. “Our brain is impacted by this fight-or-flight response. That’s supposed to happen in rare instances, but when you’re having them happen every single day, you’re having these chemicals released in the brain on a daily basis. How does that affect you as you get older?”

But future health problems are hard to think about when you’re trying to survive.

At This Day Care, ‘Dora’ Means Drop

The children at Little Explorers Learning Center are getting reacquainted with their daily routine now that the day care facility has reopened for families of essential workers as the COVID pandemic stay-at-home orders loosen. And there’s a lot to remember.

Teachers at the center remind the children of their hand-washing, mealtime and academic routines. They also make sure the kids remember what to do when gunfire erupts nearby.  Assistant director Tawanda Brand runs a gunfire safety drill once a month. First, she tells the children to get ready. Then, she shouts: “Dora the Explorer!”

“Dora” is a code word, Brand explained, signaling the kids to drop to the floor — the safest place — in case gunfire erupts nearby.

A child looks out the window to watch snow falling at the Little Explorers Learning Center on Jan. 29, in St. Louis. In November 2019, a stray bullet came through the window.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

Little Explorers Learning Center assistant director and teacher Tawanda Brand works with preschool students in St. Louis on Jan. 29. After closing temporarily because of the coronavirus, the center reopened in May for the children of essential workers. All staff members now wear masks.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

During a drill one morning before the pandemic, most of the children got down. Others walked around, sending Brand on a chase as she tried to corral the group of 3- to 5-year-olds.

The drill may sound playful, but sometimes the danger is real.

The Little Explorers protocol isn’t like the “active shooter” drills that took place in schools around the country on the rare chance someone would come inside to shoot — as at Columbine, Parkland or Sandy Hook. The day care program performs these drills because nearby shootings are an ongoing threat.

Day care director Tess Trice said a bullet pierced the window in November while the children were inside. Then, the very next day, bullets flew again.

“We heard gunshots, we got on the floor,” Trice said. “Eventually, when we got up and looked out the window, we saw a body out there.”

Tess Trice, who owns and runs Little Explorers Learning Center, conducts monthly drills to keep the kids safe amid gunfire, which has come frighteningly close. Trice was photographed on Jan. 29, before the center temporarily closed; it reopened in early May for the children of essential workers, and all staff members now wear masks.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

Trice called parents that day to see if they wanted to pick up their children early. Nicollette Mayo was one of the parents who received a call from the teachers. She knows the neighborhood faces challenges, but can’t see her 4-year-old daughter, Justice, and infant son, Marquis, going anywhere else.

“I trust them,” Mayo said. “And I know that, God forbid, if there is an incident that I’m going to be contacted immediately. They’re gonna do what they need to do to keep my children safe.”

Trice considered bulletproof glass for the day care center but could not afford it. A local company estimated it would cost $8,000 to $10,000 per window. So she relies on the “Dora” drills and newly installed cameras.

Still, in a city with such an alarming homicide rate, such drills aren’t happening only at the few day care facilities that have reopened. They also happen at home.

‘You Live Better If You Sit On The Floor’

Long before the coronavirus pandemic pushed the world to isolate at home, the Hicks family had their own version of sheltering in place. But it was from gun violence. When they hear gunshots outside their home in East St. Louis, Illinois, everyone hides in the dark.

The goal is to keep the family out of sight, because bearing witness to a shooting could put them at a different kind of risk, mom Kianna Hicks said.

Khanyla Blueford, 12, and her siblings demonstrate a drill they practice in which they drop to the floor quickly at their home in East St. Louis, Illinois. The drill helps them feel prepared for when they hear gunfire, which in past years happened at least twice a week in warm months.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

So when trouble erupts, they do their best to remain unseen and unheard.

“We turn the TV down,” said 13-year-old Anajah Hicks, the oldest of four. “We turn the lights off, and we hurry up and get down on the ground.”

A few times each month, the family practices what to do when they hear gunshots. Hicks tells the kids to get ready. Then, their grandmother Gloria Hicks claps her hands to simulate the sound of gunfire.

“I need them to know exactly what to do, because in too many instances, where we’ve been sitting around, and gunshots, you know, people start shooting, and they’ll just be up walking around or trying to run,” Kianna Hicks said. “I’ll tell ’em, ‘Naw, that’s not what you do. You hear gunshots, you hear gunshots. No matter where you at, you stop — you get on the ground and you wait until it’s over with and then you move around.’”

And this summer, Hicks wants to make sure the kids are ready. At least twice a week in past years when the weather warmed up, the family got on the floor in response to real gunfire. Violence spikes in summer months, according to the Giffords Law Center to Prevent Gun Violence. And she knows they could be spending more time in the house if football camp for her boys is canceled because of coronavirus fears.

Other families in tough neighborhoods sit on the floor more often, even amid moments of relative quiet. The first time Gloria Hicks saw a family sitting on the floor, she was visiting her godson in Chicago decades ago. It was hot that summer, Hicks recalled, so families kept their apartment doors open to stay cool.

“They were sitting on the floor watching TV and I wondered, Why is it like that?” Hicks recalled. “Then I learned that you live better if you sit on the floor than on the couch, because you don’t know when the bullets gon’ fly.”

‘I Immediately Dropped To The Floor’

Although 16-year-old Mariah knows what to do when bullets fly, she said, she still has a difficult time processing the sound of violence. The honor student was babysitting her little cousins at her St. Louis home last winter when she heard gunshots.

“It couldn’t have been no further than, like, my doorstep,” recalled Mariah, whose mother asked that the teen’s last name not be printed so the discussion of the trauma doesn’t follow her into adulthood. “I immediately dropped to the floor, and then in a split second the second thing that ran through my head is like, ‘Oh, my God, the kids.’”

Mariah and her mom, Eisha Taylor, pose for a portrait at their home in St. Louis on Feb. 1. Mariah was babysitting her little cousins there last winter when she heard nearby gunshots.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

When Mariah walked into the next room, she saw her two younger cousins on the floor doing exactly what their mother had taught them to do when gunfire erupts.

Get down and don’t move.

“I was so worried,” Mariah recalled. “They’re 6 and 3. Imagine that.”

The three kids walked away physically OK that day. But later that night, Mariah said, she pulled out strands of her hair, a behavior associated with stress.

“Pulling my hair got really bad,” she said. “I had to oil my hair again because when I oil it, it makes it hard to pull out.”

Davis, the mental health counselor who has worked for 20 years with children experiencing trauma, encourages parents to comfort their kids after a traumatic event and for the kids to fully explore and discuss their emotions, even months after the fact.

She said getting on the floor explains only how families are maintaining their physical safety.

“But no one’s addressing the emotional and the mental toll that this takes on individuals,” said Davis, vice president of the Hopewell Center, one of the few mental health agencies for kids in the city of St. Louis.

“We get children that were playing in their backyard and they witnessed someone being shot right in front of them,” Davis said. “These are the daily experiences of our children. And that’s not normal.”

Carolina Hidalgo contributed to this report as a journalist at St. Louis Public Radio.

Searching For Safety: Where Children Hide When Gunfire Is All Too Common published first on https://smartdrinkingweb.weebly.com/

[gordonwilliamsweb]

Searching For Safety: Where Children Hide When Gunfire Is All Too Common

Justice Buress, 4, demonstrates how she hides under a table during a drill at Little Explorers Learning Center in St. Louis. Day care director Tess Trice carries out monthly drills to train the children to get on the floor when they hear gunfire.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

ST. LOUIS — Champale Greene-Anderson keeps the volume up on her television when she watches 5-year-old granddaughter Amor Robinson while the girl’s mom is at work.

This story is part of a partnership that includes St. Louis Public Radio, NPR and Kaiser Health News.

This story can be republished for free (details).

“So we won’t hear the gunshots,” Greene-Anderson said. “I have little bitty grandbabies, and I don’t want them to be afraid to be here.”

As a preschooler, Amor already knows and fears the sounds that occurred with regularity in their neighborhood before the pandemic — and continue even now as the rest of the world has slowed down.

“I don’t like the pop, pop noises,” Amor explained, swinging the beads in her hair. “I can’t hear my tablet when I watch something.”

And when the television or her hot-pink headphones and matching tablet can’t mask the noise of a shooting? “She usually stops everything,” said her mother, Satin White. “Sometimes she cries, sometimes she covers her ears.”

Her grandmother has even watched Amor hide inside a narrow gap between the couch and recliner.

Five-year-old Amor Robinson demonstrates where she sat in her grandmother’s home in St. Louis when she heard gunfire outside. The narrow gap between the couch and armchair recliner became her hideaway.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

In communities across the United States this spring, families are dealing with more than just the threat of the coronavirus outside their homes. In the midst of violence that does not stop even during a pandemic, children like Amor continually search for safety, peace and a quiet place. “Safer at Home” slogans don’t guarantee safety for them.

More than two dozen parents and caregivers who spoke with Kaiser Health News attested that the kids hide underneath beds, in basements and dry bathtubs, waiting for gunfire to stop while their parents pray that a bullet never finds them.

In St. Louis, which has the nation’s highest murder rate among cities with at least 100,000 people, the reasons are especially stark. More than 20 children in the St. Louis area were killed by gunfire last year, and this year at least 11 children have died already.

While some of the children’s deaths were caused by accidental shootings inside a home, regular gunfire outside is a hurtful reminder that adults have to find ways to keep children safe. And while parents hope their kids grow into healthy adults, evidence shows that children who grow up around violence or witness it frequently are more likely to have health problems later in life.

Can you imagine as a child, you are sleeping, you know, no care in the world as you sleep and being jarred out of your sleep to get under the bed and hide?

Lekesha Davis, a St. Louis mental health counselor

Although the mental health of children around the world has been taxed these past few months, for some children the stress has been going on far longer. Regularly hearing shootings is one example of what’s called an “adverse childhood experience.” Americans who have adverse childhood experiences that remain unaddressed are more likely to suffer heart disease, cancer, chronic respiratory diseases and stroke, according to a 2019 Centers for Disease Control and Prevention report.

St. Louis mental health counselor Lekesha Davis said children and their parents can become desensitized to the violence around them — where even one’s home doesn’t feel safe. And, research shows, black parents and children in the U.S., especially, often cannot get the mental health treatment they may need because of bias or lack of cultural understanding from providers.

“Can you imagine as a child, you are sleeping, you know, no care in the world as you sleep and being jarred out of your sleep to get under the bed and hide?” Davis asked.

Email Sign-Up

Subscribe to KHN’s free Morning Briefing.

Sign Up

Please confirm your email address below:

Sign Up

“We have to look at this, not just, you know, emotionally, but what does that do to our body?” she added. “Our brain is impacted by this fight-or-flight response. That’s supposed to happen in rare instances, but when you’re having them happen every single day, you’re having these chemicals released in the brain on a daily basis. How does that affect you as you get older?”

But future health problems are hard to think about when you’re trying to survive.

At This Day Care, ‘Dora’ Means Drop

The children at Little Explorers Learning Center are getting reacquainted with their daily routine now that the day care facility has reopened for families of essential workers as the COVID pandemic stay-at-home orders loosen. And there’s a lot to remember.

Teachers at the center remind the children of their hand-washing, mealtime and academic routines. They also make sure the kids remember what to do when gunfire erupts nearby.  Assistant director Tawanda Brand runs a gunfire safety drill once a month. First, she tells the children to get ready. Then, she shouts: “Dora the Explorer!”

“Dora” is a code word, Brand explained, signaling the kids to drop to the floor — the safest place — in case gunfire erupts nearby.

A child looks out the window to watch snow falling at the Little Explorers Learning Center on Jan. 29, in St. Louis. In November 2019, a stray bullet came through the window.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

Little Explorers Learning Center assistant director and teacher Tawanda Brand works with preschool students in St. Louis on Jan. 29. After closing temporarily because of the coronavirus, the center reopened in May for the children of essential workers. All staff members now wear masks.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

During a drill one morning before the pandemic, most of the children got down. Others walked around, sending Brand on a chase as she tried to corral the group of 3- to 5-year-olds.

The drill may sound playful, but sometimes the danger is real.

The Little Explorers protocol isn’t like the “active shooter” drills that took place in schools around the country on the rare chance someone would come inside to shoot — as at Columbine, Parkland or Sandy Hook. The day care program performs these drills because nearby shootings are an ongoing threat.

Day care director Tess Trice said a bullet pierced the window in November while the children were inside. Then, the very next day, bullets flew again.

“We heard gunshots, we got on the floor,” Trice said. “Eventually, when we got up and looked out the window, we saw a body out there.”

Tess Trice, who owns and runs Little Explorers Learning Center, conducts monthly drills to keep the kids safe amid gunfire, which has come frighteningly close. Trice was photographed on Jan. 29, before the center temporarily closed; it reopened in early May for the children of essential workers, and all staff members now wear masks.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

Trice called parents that day to see if they wanted to pick up their children early. Nicollette Mayo was one of the parents who received a call from the teachers. She knows the neighborhood faces challenges, but can’t see her 4-year-old daughter, Justice, and infant son, Marquis, going anywhere else.

“I trust them,” Mayo said. “And I know that, God forbid, if there is an incident that I’m going to be contacted immediately. They’re gonna do what they need to do to keep my children safe.”

Trice considered bulletproof glass for the day care center but could not afford it. A local company estimated it would cost $8,000 to $10,000 per window. So she relies on the “Dora” drills and newly installed cameras.

Still, in a city with such an alarming homicide rate, such drills aren’t happening only at the few day care facilities that have reopened. They also happen at home.

‘You Live Better If You Sit On The Floor’

Long before the coronavirus pandemic pushed the world to isolate at home, the Hicks family had their own version of sheltering in place. But it was from gun violence. When they hear gunshots outside their home in East St. Louis, Illinois, everyone hides in the dark.

The goal is to keep the family out of sight, because bearing witness to a shooting could put them at a different kind of risk, mom Kianna Hicks said.

Khanyla Blueford, 12, and her siblings demonstrate a drill they practice in which they drop to the floor quickly at their home in East St. Louis, Illinois. The drill helps them feel prepared for when they hear gunfire, which in past years happened at least twice a week in warm months.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

So when trouble erupts, they do their best to remain unseen and unheard.

“We turn the TV down,” said 13-year-old Anajah Hicks, the oldest of four. “We turn the lights off, and we hurry up and get down on the ground.”

A few times each month, the family practices what to do when they hear gunshots. Hicks tells the kids to get ready. Then, their grandmother Gloria Hicks claps her hands to simulate the sound of gunfire.

“I need them to know exactly what to do, because in too many instances, where we’ve been sitting around, and gunshots, you know, people start shooting, and they’ll just be up walking around or trying to run,” Kianna Hicks said. “I’ll tell ’em, ‘Naw, that’s not what you do. You hear gunshots, you hear gunshots. No matter where you at, you stop — you get on the ground and you wait until it’s over with and then you move around.’”

And this summer, Hicks wants to make sure the kids are ready. At least twice a week in past years when the weather warmed up, the family got on the floor in response to real gunfire. Violence spikes in summer months, according to the Giffords Law Center to Prevent Gun Violence. And she knows they could be spending more time in the house if football camp for her boys is canceled because of coronavirus fears.

Other families in tough neighborhoods sit on the floor more often, even amid moments of relative quiet. The first time Gloria Hicks saw a family sitting on the floor, she was visiting her godson in Chicago decades ago. It was hot that summer, Hicks recalled, so families kept their apartment doors open to stay cool.

“They were sitting on the floor watching TV and I wondered, Why is it like that?” Hicks recalled. “Then I learned that you live better if you sit on the floor than on the couch, because you don’t know when the bullets gon’ fly.”

‘I Immediately Dropped To The Floor’

Although 16-year-old Mariah knows what to do when bullets fly, she said, she still has a difficult time processing the sound of violence. The honor student was babysitting her little cousins at her St. Louis home last winter when she heard gunshots.

“It couldn’t have been no further than, like, my doorstep,” recalled Mariah, whose mother asked that the teen’s last name not be printed so the discussion of the trauma doesn’t follow her into adulthood. “I immediately dropped to the floor, and then in a split second the second thing that ran through my head is like, ‘Oh, my God, the kids.’”

Mariah and her mom, Eisha Taylor, pose for a portrait at their home in St. Louis on Feb. 1. Mariah was babysitting her little cousins there last winter when she heard nearby gunshots.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

When Mariah walked into the next room, she saw her two younger cousins on the floor doing exactly what their mother had taught them to do when gunfire erupts.

Get down and don’t move.

“I was so worried,” Mariah recalled. “They’re 6 and 3. Imagine that.”

The three kids walked away physically OK that day. But later that night, Mariah said, she pulled out strands of her hair, a behavior associated with stress.

“Pulling my hair got really bad,” she said. “I had to oil my hair again because when I oil it, it makes it hard to pull out.”

Davis, the mental health counselor who has worked for 20 years with children experiencing trauma, encourages parents to comfort their kids after a traumatic event and for the kids to fully explore and discuss their emotions, even months after the fact.

She said getting on the floor explains only how families are maintaining their physical safety.

“But no one’s addressing the emotional and the mental toll that this takes on individuals,” said Davis, vice president of the Hopewell Center, one of the few mental health agencies for kids in the city of St. Louis.

“We get children that were playing in their backyard and they witnessed someone being shot right in front of them,” Davis said. “These are the daily experiences of our children. And that’s not normal.”

Carolina Hidalgo contributed to this report as a journalist at St. Louis Public Radio.

Searching For Safety: Where Children Hide When Gunfire Is All Too Common published first on https://nootropicspowdersupplier.tumblr.com/

[dinafbrownil]

Searching For Safety: Where Children Hide When Gunfire Is All Too Common

Justice Buress, 4, demonstrates how she hides under a table during a drill at Little Explorers Learning Center in St. Louis. Day care director Tess Trice carries out monthly drills to train the children to get on the floor when they hear gunfire.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

ST. LOUIS — Champale Greene-Anderson keeps the volume up on her television when she watches 5-year-old granddaughter Amor Robinson while the girl’s mom is at work.

This story is part of a partnership that includes St. Louis Public Radio, NPR and Kaiser Health News.

This story can be republished for free (details).

“So we won’t hear the gunshots,” Greene-Anderson said. “I have little bitty grandbabies, and I don’t want them to be afraid to be here.”

As a preschooler, Amor already knows and fears the sounds that occurred with regularity in their neighborhood before the pandemic — and continue even now as the rest of the world has slowed down.

“I don’t like the pop, pop noises,” Amor explained, swinging the beads in her hair. “I can’t hear my tablet when I watch something.”

And when the television or her hot-pink headphones and matching tablet can’t mask the noise of a shooting? “She usually stops everything,” said her mother, Satin White. “Sometimes she cries, sometimes she covers her ears.”

Her grandmother has even watched Amor hide inside a narrow gap between the couch and recliner.

Five-year-old Amor Robinson demonstrates where she sat in her grandmother’s home in St. Louis when she heard gunfire outside. The narrow gap between the couch and armchair recliner became her hideaway.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

In communities across the United States this spring, families are dealing with more than just the threat of the coronavirus outside their homes. In the midst of violence that does not stop even during a pandemic, children like Amor continually search for safety, peace and a quiet place. “Safer at Home” slogans don’t guarantee safety for them.

More than two dozen parents and caregivers who spoke with Kaiser Health News attested that the kids hide underneath beds, in basements and dry bathtubs, waiting for gunfire to stop while their parents pray that a bullet never finds them.

In St. Louis, which has the nation’s highest murder rate among cities with at least 100,000 people, the reasons are especially stark. More than 20 children in the St. Louis area were killed by gunfire last year, and this year at least 11 children have died already.

While some of the children’s deaths were caused by accidental shootings inside a home, regular gunfire outside is a hurtful reminder that adults have to find ways to keep children safe. And while parents hope their kids grow into healthy adults, evidence shows that children who grow up around violence or witness it frequently are more likely to have health problems later in life.

Can you imagine as a child, you are sleeping, you know, no care in the world as you sleep and being jarred out of your sleep to get under the bed and hide?

Lekesha Davis, a St. Louis mental health counselor

Although the mental health of children around the world has been taxed these past few months, for some children the stress has been going on far longer. Regularly hearing shootings is one example of what’s called an “adverse childhood experience.” Americans who have adverse childhood experiences that remain unaddressed are more likely to suffer heart disease, cancer, chronic respiratory diseases and stroke, according to a 2019 Centers for Disease Control and Prevention report.

St. Louis mental health counselor Lekesha Davis said children and their parents can become desensitized to the violence around them — where even one’s home doesn’t feel safe. And, research shows, black parents and children in the U.S., especially, often cannot get the mental health treatment they may need because of bias or lack of cultural understanding from providers.

“Can you imagine as a child, you are sleeping, you know, no care in the world as you sleep and being jarred out of your sleep to get under the bed and hide?” Davis asked.

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“We have to look at this, not just, you know, emotionally, but what does that do to our body?” she added. “Our brain is impacted by this fight-or-flight response. That’s supposed to happen in rare instances, but when you’re having them happen every single day, you’re having these chemicals released in the brain on a daily basis. How does that affect you as you get older?”

But future health problems are hard to think about when you’re trying to survive.

At This Day Care, ‘Dora’ Means Drop

The children at Little Explorers Learning Center are getting reacquainted with their daily routine now that the day care facility has reopened for families of essential workers as the COVID pandemic stay-at-home orders loosen. And there’s a lot to remember.

Teachers at the center remind the children of their hand-washing, mealtime and academic routines. They also make sure the kids remember what to do when gunfire erupts nearby.  Assistant director Tawanda Brand runs a gunfire safety drill once a month. First, she tells the children to get ready. Then, she shouts: “Dora the Explorer!”

“Dora” is a code word, Brand explained, signaling the kids to drop to the floor — the safest place — in case gunfire erupts nearby.

A child looks out the window to watch snow falling at the Little Explorers Learning Center on Jan. 29, in St. Louis. In November 2019, a stray bullet came through the window.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

Little Explorers Learning Center assistant director and teacher Tawanda Brand works with preschool students in St. Louis on Jan. 29. After closing temporarily because of the coronavirus, the center reopened in May for the children of essential workers. All staff members now wear masks.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

During a drill one morning before the pandemic, most of the children got down. Others walked around, sending Brand on a chase as she tried to corral the group of 3- to 5-year-olds.

The drill may sound playful, but sometimes the danger is real.

The Little Explorers protocol isn’t like the “active shooter” drills that took place in schools around the country on the rare chance someone would come inside to shoot — as at Columbine, Parkland or Sandy Hook. The day care program performs these drills because nearby shootings are an ongoing threat.

Day care director Tess Trice said a bullet pierced the window in November while the children were inside. Then, the very next day, bullets flew again.

“We heard gunshots, we got on the floor,” Trice said. “Eventually, when we got up and looked out the window, we saw a body out there.”

Tess Trice, who owns and runs Little Explorers Learning Center, conducts monthly drills to keep the kids safe amid gunfire, which has come frighteningly close. Trice was photographed on Jan. 29, before the center temporarily closed; it reopened in early May for the children of essential workers, and all staff members now wear masks.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

Trice called parents that day to see if they wanted to pick up their children early. Nicollette Mayo was one of the parents who received a call from the teachers. She knows the neighborhood faces challenges, but can’t see her 4-year-old daughter, Justice, and infant son, Marquis, going anywhere else.

“I trust them,” Mayo said. “And I know that, God forbid, if there is an incident that I’m going to be contacted immediately. They’re gonna do what they need to do to keep my children safe.”

Trice considered bulletproof glass for the day care center but could not afford it. A local company estimated it would cost $8,000 to $10,000 per window. So she relies on the “Dora” drills and newly installed cameras.

Still, in a city with such an alarming homicide rate, such drills aren’t happening only at the few day care facilities that have reopened. They also happen at home.

‘You Live Better If You Sit On The Floor’

Long before the coronavirus pandemic pushed the world to isolate at home, the Hicks family had their own version of sheltering in place. But it was from gun violence. When they hear gunshots outside their home in East St. Louis, Illinois, everyone hides in the dark.

The goal is to keep the family out of sight, because bearing witness to a shooting could put them at a different kind of risk, mom Kianna Hicks said.

Khanyla Blueford, 12, and her siblings demonstrate a drill they practice in which they drop to the floor quickly at their home in East St. Louis, Illinois. The drill helps them feel prepared for when they hear gunfire, which in past years happened at least twice a week in warm months.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

So when trouble erupts, they do their best to remain unseen and unheard.

“We turn the TV down,” said 13-year-old Anajah Hicks, the oldest of four. “We turn the lights off, and we hurry up and get down on the ground.”

A few times each month, the family practices what to do when they hear gunshots. Hicks tells the kids to get ready. Then, their grandmother Gloria Hicks claps her hands to simulate the sound of gunfire.

“I need them to know exactly what to do, because in too many instances, where we’ve been sitting around, and gunshots, you know, people start shooting, and they’ll just be up walking around or trying to run,” Kianna Hicks said. “I’ll tell ’em, ‘Naw, that’s not what you do. You hear gunshots, you hear gunshots. No matter where you at, you stop — you get on the ground and you wait until it’s over with and then you move around.’”

And this summer, Hicks wants to make sure the kids are ready. At least twice a week in past years when the weather warmed up, the family got on the floor in response to real gunfire. Violence spikes in summer months, according to the Giffords Law Center to Prevent Gun Violence. And she knows they could be spending more time in the house if football camp for her boys is canceled because of coronavirus fears.

Other families in tough neighborhoods sit on the floor more often, even amid moments of relative quiet. The first time Gloria Hicks saw a family sitting on the floor, she was visiting her godson in Chicago decades ago. It was hot that summer, Hicks recalled, so families kept their apartment doors open to stay cool.

“They were sitting on the floor watching TV and I wondered, Why is it like that?” Hicks recalled. “Then I learned that you live better if you sit on the floor than on the couch, because you don’t know when the bullets gon’ fly.”

‘I Immediately Dropped To The Floor’

Although 16-year-old Mariah knows what to do when bullets fly, she said, she still has a difficult time processing the sound of violence. The honor student was babysitting her little cousins at her St. Louis home last winter when she heard gunshots.

“It couldn’t have been no further than, like, my doorstep,” recalled Mariah, whose mother asked that the teen’s last name not be printed so the discussion of the trauma doesn’t follow her into adulthood. “I immediately dropped to the floor, and then in a split second the second thing that ran through my head is like, ‘Oh, my God, the kids.’”

Mariah and her mom, Eisha Taylor, pose for a portrait at their home in St. Louis on Feb. 1. Mariah was babysitting her little cousins there last winter when she heard nearby gunshots.(Carolina Hidalgo/St. Louis Public Radio)

When Mariah walked into the next room, she saw her two younger cousins on the floor doing exactly what their mother had taught them to do when gunfire erupts.

Get down and don’t move.

“I was so worried,” Mariah recalled. “They’re 6 and 3. Imagine that.”

The three kids walked away physically OK that day. But later that night, Mariah said, she pulled out strands of her hair, a behavior associated with stress.

“Pulling my hair got really bad,” she said. “I had to oil my hair again because when I oil it, it makes it hard to pull out.”

Davis, the mental health counselor who has worked for 20 years with children experiencing trauma, encourages parents to comfort their kids after a traumatic event and for the kids to fully explore and discuss their emotions, even months after the fact.

She said getting on the floor explains only how families are maintaining their physical safety.

“But no one’s addressing the emotional and the mental toll that this takes on individuals,” said Davis, vice president of the Hopewell Center, one of the few mental health agencies for kids in the city of St. Louis.

“We get children that were playing in their backyard and they witnessed someone being shot right in front of them,” Davis said. “These are the daily experiences of our children. And that’s not normal.”

Carolina Hidalgo contributed to this report as a journalist at St. Louis Public Radio.

from Updates By Dina https://khn.org/news/gun-violence-where-children-hide-mental-health-effects/

[consciousowl]

5MeO DMT Psychedelic: A Way to Experience God

You may have heard of entheogens, a new word coined out of psychedelics to give it a spiritual twist. Psychedelics have been used for recreation, medicine and psychotherapy. Their use by the Native American Church in peyote ceremonies, as well as the Church of Santo Daime with their use of ayahuasca, has awakened people to their profound potential for visionary experiences. For the most part, these chemicals are eaten, swallowed as a pill or drunk as a potion. The most powerful of them was thought to be LSD, which could be taken in tab form, and later, N,N-DMT, which catalyzes intense visions of other worlds. For example, Terrence McKenna, who did more to popularize entheogens than anyone since Timothy Leary, saw machine elves. DMT lasts only 15 to 20 minutes, and then quickly fades out. However, it is a lot more intense than LSD with even more flashbacks. A new entheogen has emerged, a cousin of DMT called “5MeO” DMT. This chemical was discovered and ingested only in the last decade or two. As attested by the psychonauts who have experimented with it, 5MeO is easily 10 times more powerful that N,N-DMT, which is 10 times more powerful than any other psychedelic. 5MeO is smoked, much like marijuana. Unlike marijuana, it doesn’t take a half-hour. When atheists smoke 5MeO, they almost immediately cry, “OH, MY GOD!”. This came out of the mouths of people who studiously avoided the use of that word, associating it with the old man in the sky. Yet only the word, “God,” could begin to describe the overwhelming nature of their realization. From atheist to true believe in seconds.

What is 5MeO?

5MeO DMT is the most potent chemical ever discovered for delivering the direct experience of God. It is a tryptamine that acts as a neurotransmitter to the brain. It is most commonly derived from the venom of a toad found in the Sonoran Desert, buffo alverius. It can also be found in various plants. Eventually, it was synthesized until it became illegal. Unlike its visionary cousin, it is known for its delivery of Self-Realization, where you experience oneness with all that is. God is seen as all-encompassing. He contains all things, and without Him, nothing exists. Rather than a whimsical deity in the clouds, God is experienced as Infinite Energy. All is well in this Presence. Everything is, indeed, perfect just as it is. While the experience is little more than 10 or 15 minutes, it is so intense that it seems like eternity. It blows any preconception you may have about reality to the stars. God is more real than anything you have seen or imagined. “God” is the only word in the English language to hint at the magnitude of this power. Just imagine an astronaut who was a founding member of the Flat Earth Society witnessing the curvature of the earth in outer space.

How Does 5MeO DMT Work?

5MeO is actually endogenous to the human nervous system. We manufacture comparable compounds within us, but not in such intense quantities as administered in this holy smoke, whether toad venom or synthetic. Aldous Huxley, who popularized mescaline and other substances as part of his own spiritual search back in the 1950’s and 1960’s, realized our brain is a massive filter that screens out most of the information coming in from the cosmos, lest it overwhelm us. Psychedelics temporarily removes the filter so we experience this massive input directly without mediation. The profound realization that all this is God, encompassing everything and everyone while being a singular unitary being, comes from within us spontaneously as the filters are removed.

What makes 5MeO So Special?

Many entheogens open people up to the possibility of God, more in their head than in their heart. 5MeO instantly delivers a heart realization of God, not simply as an idea, but as the very context of all of our experience. In other words, 5MeO temporarily takes us far beyond all known boundaries. That awareness is self-evident, not requiring any proof whatsoever. I can appreciate the concept that we are all God, but something of a different order is the head-on experience that there is ONLY GOD. As Werner Erhard once put it, “If you experience it, it is the truth. The same thing believed is a lie.” Through 5MeO, God becomes real as a living experience. A single encounter with 5MeO is enough to send you on a philosophical quest that can last a lifetime. Integrating the experience requires not just a few hours or days, but months and years. Most of us who say that there is a God don’t really live like that. Imagine being continuously aware of God. The encounter with 5MeO can stay with you for days and weeks, accompanied by spontaneous flashbacks. You can’t possibly escape its witness to the Presence of God.

For in Him we live and move and have our being.

~Saint Paul in Acts 17:28

What Is the Upside and Downside of 5MeO?

Like any other entheogen, 5MeO has both an upside and downside. It can consistently deliver the most powerful experience of God faster and easier than any other medium. You finally apprehend the greatest insights of the mystics. Not as an idea, but as an overwhelming experience. If you take your ego with you in the encounter, if you refuse to surrender your small self, you will meet the equivalent of a hurricane. Numerous people have suffered PTSD, or Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, for weeks and months. You can sleep or rest with flashbacks disrupting you. You can, in certain occasions, experience a living hell. Most of us are not sufficiently in touch with ourselves to predetermine our response. Therefore, 5MeO should be considered only with extreme caution or under very special conditions. To complicate matters, in the United States it is currently designated as a Schedule 1 substance, which means it is totally illegal. Why would you risk a psychotic break, along with a jail sentence?

Why We Need a New Profession: Transformative Agent

The solution is increasingly apparent. From Timothy Leary onward, spokespeople for psychedelics have recommended they be controlled substances, not banned as illegal. When you want a medical prescription, you go see an M.D. However, the nature of entheogens is such that they go beyond the competence of a Western physician. Such a powerful chemical as 5MeO DMT requires the insights of both a therapist and a priest, as it opens wide both psychological and spiritual frontiers. You have to go beyond Freudian, Jungian and Humanistic psychology to Transpersonal psychology, hinted at by the pioneering researcher Abraham Maslow. 5MeO is far too promising to simply be banned. Banning invites a virulent black market. The Drug War backfired, because it ignored the positive potential of psychedelics and completely failed to distinguish them from truly dangerous compounds, such as heroine. We need legislation legalizing and controlling these compounds. An infrastructure needs to be established to provide a safety net. Breathing the smoke should be backed by world-class mentors or transformative agents. To legislate this requires political action, such as the initiative in California that legalized marijuana. To successfully do that requires public education in the entire field of psychedelics. You may end up for or against entheogens. The one thing you can no longer afford to be is ignorant. You might want to read, Tryptamine Palace by James Oroc, or Being Human by Martin W. Ball. You also should check out MAPS.org in Santa Cruz, California. This is an organization of concerned physicians, researchers, therapists and spiritual leaders promoting the right to use these substances for the purpose of enlightenment. Share your story or thoughts below!

The post 5MeO DMT Psychedelic: A Way to Experience God appeared first on ConsciousOwl.com.

[clusterassets]

New world news from Time: ‘We Weren’t Prepared for This.’ Inside the Accidental Liberation of a Concentration Camp

In early 1945, World War II was approaching its end in Europe, a conclusion that would officially arrive when the Germans surrendered to the Allies on May 7, 1945. In practice, that final period of the war was also the beginning of a new phase of the conflict, as troops and the general public alike began to discover the extent of the atrocities they’d been fighting over.

In some ways, that reckoning continues to this day. The timing of International Holocaust Remembrance Day, which falls this Saturday, commemorates the anniversary of the Soviet Army liberating more than 7,000 prisoners of Auschwitz on Jan. 27, 1945. In the months that followed, troops from the USSR, Western Europe and the U.S. would liberate many more camps, as the Nazis scrambled to destroy the evidence of their crimes. Though the persecution of Jews and others was no secret, the liberation period was when many people were first forced to realize the extent of what the Nazi regime had been doing.

One such revelation took place three days prior to the Germans’ surrender, when U.S. Army soldiers stumbled upon the Gunskirchen Concentration Camp, a sub-camp of the death camp Mauthausen.

And the lives that changed that day have continued to intersect in surprising ways. At the time, Alan Moskin was an 18-year-old American soldier who helped liberate the camp and Nandor Katz was a 19-year-old prisoner. The two men, now 91 and 92, recently found out that they live less than an hour away from one other in New York state, thanks to a discovery by Halina Rosenkranz, the Westchester Jewish Community Services’s Holocaust survivors’ groups counselor.

In the week leading up to Holocaust Remembrance Day on Saturday, they spoke to TIME about what they remember from that fateful day and what they want future generations to remember about that time.

An Accidental Discovery

Moskin, who served in the Army with the 66th infantry, 71st Division, recalls that his side of the experience started when a group of U.S. Army combat soldiers stumbled upon a prisoner-of-war camp, holding mostly Royal Air Force members, near Lambach, Austria. The British prisoners told the liberating soldiers that they’d heard rumors of a different kind of camp, a concentration camp for Jews, just a few kilometers away.

“I remember my buddies and I looked at each other,” Moskin tells TIME. “We knew Hitler wasn’t fond of Jews, but we hadn’t heard anything about any concentration camps.”

The day — May 4, 1945 — was overcast as he and his fellow troops marched through a forest, trudging through wet ground, looking for the rumored camp. The first clue that the rumors were true was the smell.

“We tried to cover our mouths and noses with a bandana, but it got worse and worse, and all of a sudden I remember looking through some trees and seeing a big barbed wire sort of [guarding] a compound,” he says. “That turned out to be the Gunskirchen camp.”

With the war nearing its end, the troops faced only a very little bit of resistance as they approached the camp. Moskin himself shot a guard who refused to surrender, and then the group cut through the barbed wire and entered the camp.

Katz — speaking through his daughter, Raisa Katz, who translated for him — says the Americans came just in time: “Himmler had just sent a telegram to the commandant ordering the people running the camp to shoot everybody. But because the American soldiers came and surrounded the camp, he wasn’t able to carry out the order. He was afraid. He thought it best to surrender.”

And, as Raisa Katz points out, it was pure luck that the soldiers did arrive just then. “My father had spoken about the liberation day so many times when I was growing up, so I had this image of the American government sending the soldiers for the purpose of liberating the camp, giving [the prisoners] food, and the commandant surrendering,” she says. “So the most striking thing to me is that the Americans didn’t go to liberate the camp. This all happened by accident.”

What They Saw

What came next was something neither man would ever forget.

“There were dead bodies on the left, piles of dead bodies on the right — and their arms and legs looked like broomsticks covered with no flesh,” Moskin says. Slowly, the ones who were still alive stumbled toward them like “the living dead, zombies,” in striped pajamas with a sewn-on star of David, calling out in German for food, water and cigarettes.

“I remember my buddies who did [smoke] were handing out cigarettes and getting ready to light them, when they [the prisoners] took those cigarettes and pulled the wrapping off and started chewing the tobacco like a sirloin steak,” he says. The soldiers also distributed what they could from their own Army-issued rations. “Many of them would start biting and chewing so fast they started to grab their esophagus, and I remember they would start choking and falling to the crowd. We got so frightened. We didn’t know what was happening. And then the medics started screaming at us, ‘No solid food, damn it!’ We weren’t prepared for this.”

The situation was even more desperate in the barracks area.

“There was a little path or roadway with a dead horse on the ground. I can never forgot, three inmates had pulled off the bark of a tree and were digging it into the entrails of this dead horse. And then they reached down inside the dead horse, and pulled out the guts and started biting and chewing. You could see the blood squirt out.”

The inmates were willing to eat anything, attests Katz, a native of a small Carpathian Mountain town in present-day Ukraine who had been working in Budapest when he was taken to a labor camp in 1943 and then transferred to Mauthausen. “There were some people who would cut flesh off of dead bodies just eat something,” he says. “There was no water. A couple more days, I would have been dead.”

An Army lieutenant who knew he was Jewish asked Moskin if he spoke any Hebrew or German, so that he could communicate with the prisoners.

“I remember saying the German for ‘I am also a Jew.’ It just came out of me. I don’t know where I heard it,” Moskin says. “An elderly man, very emaciated, started to smile and came towards me and he went down on his hands and knees and started to kiss my boots, which were tainted with blood, vomit, and feces. I knew he was trying to be affectionate toward me, but it made me very uncomfortable to watch him kissing my filthy, bloody boots. So I picked him up under the armpits, and as he came up towards me I could see open, festering sores going up and down his neck, and lice coming out of those sores. You could imagine that I wanted to pull away because he smelled so badly, but I didn’t. He had wrapped his arms around me and he was crying. He kept saying ‘Danke [thank you], danke, Jew.’ That’s when I lost it a little bit and started to cry.”

In the days that followed, word trickled in from other Army outfits that the events at Gunskirchen were just one liberation among many.

“Every time we found out,” Moskin recalls, “we said, ‘My God, how many of these damn hellholes are there?'”

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Life After Liberation

After that day, Katz remained in the camp a bit longer, nursing his two brothers who had contracted typhoid fever, until they recovered enough to be taken to Budapest for treatment at an American hospital. He later made his way to the Soviet Union and resided there until 1973, when he immigrated to the U.S., where he worked as a silkscreen printer, raising his family in Philadelphia.

Moskin ended up staying in Europe until June 1946, as part of the U.S. Army of Occupation. An aspiring lawyer, he convinced an officer in charge to let him attend a day or two of the Nuremberg trials — an experience that only further cemented his career choice. But, despite working in the justice system, in the decades that followed he found it was too painful to talk about the injustice he had witnessed firsthand.

“I didn’t speak for 50 years about my experience,” he says, scared that nightmares of the dead horse would come back. “The kids say to me, ‘Oh, you had PTSD.’ We never heard that term. The only term we heard back then was ‘shell-shocked.’ I sucked it up. By the time I got home, I took a key and locked up that part of my brain, and I threw that key away. If anyone asked me about the war, I said, ‘I did my job, I was under [General] Patton and I don’t want to talk about it.'”

That changed in the 1990s when a woman at a local Holocaust museum, referred to him by one of his Army buddies, called to ask him to speak at an event. He hung up on her. She called back. After they spoke about the way Holocaust memory was evolving, from the 1993 publication of Deborah Lipstadt’s book on Holocaust denial to Illinois requiring school curricula to include the truth about the Holocaust, he agreed to tell what he had seen at an event on June 10, 1995, at the mall in Nanuet, N.Y.

He surprised himself by talking for a good two hours. It was the beginning of a second career as a Holocaust educator. “It was like a catharsis,” he says. “All that poison I had to bottle up inside me for 50 years, it just came out of me.”

Since then, he’s spoken to middle schools, high schools and colleges nationwide. “When we’re all gone, they [Holocaust deniers] are really going to come out of the woodwork,” he says. Katz says he was “overjoyed” to meet Moskin for the first time on Aug. 11, 2017, so they could corroborate their experiences. “I was happy that I met somebody who saw the conditions, so that my story wouldn’t be lost.”

Preserving that story, and its lesson, is a job that Moskin feels remains unfinished.

“I’m going to be honest with you, my generation failed,” he says. “We didn’t get rid of the hate and prejudice. There’s still hate out there, all over the place.”

But, as Katz sees it, that’s a job that will never be complete — which is why it’s important to remember that, even at the worst moments in human history, luck and goodness can run counter to evil.

“Even then, there were people that were good and kind,” he says. “Same thing now. There are some people that will always hate, and there are people that are good, and that’s just human nature.”

January 27, 2018 at 04:11AM ClusterAssets Inc., https://ClusterAssets.wordpress.com