#and i’ve learned to be patient about traffic because no matter how bad it is it will NEVER be as awful as driving through LA

[golvio]

I think more people would like the city they can actually drive through than the eternal gridlock that had some low-rises built around it to give the impression of a city.

Round 1, poll 12

[godofplumsandthunder]

Twisted Fate

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Cancer, both Bucky and reader have cancer, Major Character death, brief hospital terms mainly reffering to cancer treatment. References to amputation.

A/N: This was written for the lovely @eurynome827​ 2k celebration. I got a lovely quote of lyrics from Hadestown, which I wanted to do something that was based off of the musical, but I couldn’t figure anything out. Then I had a big anniversary come up and this was came out instead. It’s very angsty, I cried a lot, and well I hope you like it.

The low, steady hum of the fan fills the awkward silence. The psychiatrist, newly assigned to the case, still doesn’t feel comfortable. “Case number 32557038” was widely known in the health care center. The whispers and rumors floated their way down the hall, past the copy machine, filling the office with this chilling tale. Some regarded it as a terrible series of bad luck, others thought it was an act of some benevolent God, pouring his rage on this poor couple. Dr. Breynord, after reading the notes on the file, Breynord knew that this case was perhaps the worst case of bad luck she ever saw in her career, and, maybe it was her stubbornness or naive belief in medicine, but Dr. Breynord was going to help this poor man get the peace he so desperately needs.

“James,” Dr. Breynord’s voice breaks the silence of the office, “I’ve read what my colleagues had to say about your case, but, I’d like you to tell me what has happened if you feel comfortable.”

Shifting in his seat, James sighs, with a small nod of the head, he starts at the beginning.

Bucky Barnes was used to change. Granted, it was other people’s change, but it was still change nonetheless. The poor folks that sat next to him each clinic visit changed, his caretakers changed, it seemed as if the whole world changed around him, while he was stuck in some perpetual hell. Every day dragged out in the same dull, and nauseating feeling, and at times, Bucky felt he was in an endless loop, forsaken by some deity he didn’t believe in. But, for however long Bucky has left in this fallen and cruel world, he’ll remember when you walked in, shattering the miserable purgatory he was banished to, he’ll always remember the day you changed his life.

It happened during his first transfusion session after his surgery. His arm, still wrapped in bandage, IV tubing leading straight to his heart, pumped his body full of liquids, as he waited for the toxic poison to enter his body. He always found it ironic, the “medicine” that was supposed to save his life, that was too dangerous for the nurses to touch with their bare hands, was willingly flushed into his body. Hair loss, mouth sores, and muscle aches were the better side effects. He can’t help but think about what is coming, especially as he sees his nurse, Thor, come over with the freshly made batch of poison [STRIKE THROUGH], chemotherapy as his doctor would want him to call it. Hanging the bag on his IV pole, Thor looks over at Bucky, giving him the “I’m going to go on a rant about something you should care about” look. 

“Now James, we’re getting a new patient today. It’s their first transfusion. They’re going to be sitting in the pod next to you. I swear to the gods, I best not hear another complaint about your attitude.”

“Me? An attitude? No, I think you got me confused with someone else. I’m the brightest little ball of sunshine here!” Bucky can’t help but chuckle. It’s not his fault he wasn’t a “warrior”, blasting “Fight Song” 24/7, as he sips on a kale smoothie with coffee suppositories shoved up his ass. T

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Barnes,” Thor shakes his head as he cleans up his station, “don’t think I won’t throw your bald ass out of here. That cancer sob story, won’t work on me.” 

Bucky goes back to his phone, already feeling the effects of the chemo. No matter how many anti-nausea meds they fed him, Cisplatin always makes him sick. So, he had the right to act like a grumpy old grandpa. While he scrolls through his social media feed, seeing all the accomplishments, brags, and just shit of his friends, Bucky hears your sniffles, as you make your way down to the end of the Oncology clinic, taking a seat next to Bucky. Even if Thor hadn’t given him the heads up, he would have known you were fresh meat. One infusion, his mom asked him how he could tell. It was easy for Bucky, it all had to do with the eyes. A cancer diagnosis shatters you. It kills all hope, light, and goodness that’s in you. You turn completely numb to the world, to the point where your own wailing and sobs feel muted. Bucky saw all of that in your eyes. Behind the puffy, redness, saw the shards of hope, the fear of the unknown. Before you could reach your seat, you stumble, spilling your possessions that you carried all over the floor. Bucky watches quietly as you quickly pick up your items, collapsing into the chair next to him. 

“Sorry I couldn’t give you a hand, only have the one,” he wiggles his stump, and he's met with silence. Talk about a rough crowd, he thinks, his nephews love his stumpy jokes. “So,” Bucky continues, “what are you in for? I’m a sarcoma, in the arm.” You sniffle as you turn your body to look at this new man.

“Leukemia,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper. It takes a real effort to say it out loud because then it makes all of this real.

“That’s good then,” the “sarcoma” man says to you, and Bucky can see the confusion, and pain on your face.

“How is that good? How is cancer good?”

Using his arm, Bucky points around the room, giving you a tour of the room.

“See him, that’s Riley, he has an inoperable brain tumor. That young kid, with the Switch? His name is Peter, his body is chemo resistant. So yeah, leukemia is good. If you haven’t learned it yet, not all cancers are made equal.”

“Oh,” you barely make out. What were you supposed to say to that? 

=====

Much to Bucky’s surprise, he actually enjoyed having your company. Your treatments lined up and so you both got to know each other well. Bucky enjoyed having someone close to his age that understood his problems. And it also didn’t hurt that you had such a great personality, you got Bucky’s dark humor (and it went without saying that you understood it was his way of coping), and you looked great. Not many people can rock a bald head. And Bucky has seen his fair share, and he can say with confidence, you rocked it. Not covering it up with caps, scarves, or wigs. Because why should you hide away? For the first time since his diagnosis, Bucky had a purpose. So, while his immune system allowed him to leave the house, he picked up a bouquet of fake flowers (neutropenia life, am I right?) and a box of chocolates to take with him to the next transfusion. When he got to the clinic, Bucky was a bit worried to see that you weren’t next to him. Instead, there sat Barb, 75 years old with breast cancer. 

“Oh sweetie, are those for me?” Barb looks at the flowers in Bucky’s hand. 

“No!” He snaps, as closes the curtain that surrounds his chair. He hears some huffs and complaints from Barb, but frankly, he doesn’t give a damn. Bucky only has one thing on his mind: you. 

“Are you alright? You’re not here at Club Med” Bucky texts as quickly as his one hand would let him. Dropping his phone, Bucky stares at it all while the nurses prep him. And because of damn, HIPAA, none of the nurses can tell him where you’re at. Minutes turn into hours, and by the time Bucky’s infusion ends, you still haven’t responded to him or shown up at the clinic. 

“Hope you’re okay. Call or text me. I'm worried” Bucky sighs, realizing how much you made his chemo treatments more bearable. How your laugh could make him forget of the poison he had to take, or how the light in your eyes could make him forget, even just for a bit, how much his arm stump was hurting. You were a drug, more potent than any he’s had before, and Bucky was becoming addicted. He’s picking at the hamburger he got for dinner, not having much of an appetite when his phone goes off. Seeing it’s from you, he rushes to answer. 

“Y/N! I… Where were you? I missed you today. I had to sit by Barb and…” The sounds of your cries cut Bucky off. 

“Are you okay?”

“No, Buck. I… Got some bad news today.” 

“Where are you?” He asks. He knows you’re alone, and speaking from experience, you never want to be alone when you get bad news. He knows from experience.

“Buck…” you sigh, “It’s fine. Really.” 

“Please, Y/N, I know what it’s like to be alone after getting this kind of news. Please, let me be there for you.” Breaking further down into tears, you cry at Bucky’s actions, actions of love. 

“I’ll send you my address,” Bucky gathers the flowers and chocolates as he rushes to your apartment, breaking a few traffic laws to get there faster. When he gets there, the image of you, opening the door, eyes swollen from crying breaks his heart. 

“Oh, Y/N,” Bucky sweeps you into his arm, as he closes the door behind, “tell me what’s going on hun.” 

You both sit on the couch, the bag with the flowers and chocolate lay at your feet, as you stay in Bucky’s embrace. 

“I’m… I’m dying Buck!” You manage to say in-between odds. “Dr. Fair... gave me three months to live. There’s nothing else they can do.” You break down in his arms, that last straw finally breaking, as you tell your newfound best friend, the person you were supposed to beat cancer with. Bucky tries his best to remain strong, to be the rock, the foundation you need, but you’re not the only one that is losing a friend. You sit in each other's embrace, as you mourn. You cry for all the missed opportunities, laughs, and memories that won’t be made. 

“What am I going to do,” you whisper, your voice hoarse from crying. 

Kissing your head, Bucky pulls you in closer, “we, are going to make these three months, the best three months you’ve ever had.”

Bucky lives up to his promise, spending every hour he isn’t in the hospital with you. The time you spent together changed your relationship. Neither had to officially say the words to make your relationship official. It was just you, and Bucky. Holding each other close, as the tempest waged on, trying to beat you into submission. You go on walks in the park, picnics, and one night when you both had the energy, went skinny dipping. Your logic being, what are the cops going to do? Arrest two cancer patients, with one of them being terminal? You threw caution to the wind and simply lived. Lived, breathed, and loved. Things seemed to be perfect until reality hit.

Your body wasn’t keeping up. Your cancer was spreading faster than they predicted. The doctors couldn’t give you an explanation as to why the cancer was spreading so fast. It shouldn’t have been. Soon, home hospice came, to try to make you more comfortable. And like the good partner he was, Bucky spent every minute by your side. That’s why, when you felt the inevitable coming, you felt your body give in to the tiredness of fighting, you grab Bucky’s hand. 

“I love you, James Bucky Barnes,” you weakly say, giving him one last affirmation, as you went to sleep, for one last time. 

As Bucky wakes up from his nap, feeling your cold body, he tries to ruse you back awake. Once he realizes what has happened, the last bit of humanity inside of Bucky snapped. He lets out a blood-curdling scream, as tears stream down his face. He strikes your face, pleas escape his mouth. Pleas to you, to a God he has long stopped believing in. His body shakes, his tears wetting your hair, as he holds you for one last time. 

=====

“Oh James,” Dr. Breynord grabs herself a tissue before handing Bucky the box of tissues. “I truly am so sorry to hear that. I want you to know that I am here to help you get happy again, and to heal.”

Bucky sighs and turns away from the doctor as he wipes his eyes. “You’re just like the rest of them. You didn’t listen to me.” 

Breynord was surprised that this was Bucky’s complaint. The other doctors had warned her that Bucky could be sarcastic, standoff-ish, and even flat-out rude to them. Breynord thought she did a good job listening to his story, what did she miss.

“I… I don’t think I understand what you mean, James.”

Bucky lets out a heartless, empty laugh, “you want me to be happy again. I’m never going to be. Not only do I have to live with the guilt of surviving, when she died, in my arms, but I’ll also never find another soul like hers. We had a connection, you know. It felt like we met before. When I held her in my arm, and her arms would wrap around me, it felt like I had the whole world in my arms. I didn’t need anything else when I had Y/N.” 

“So tell me doc, what’s the point of carrying on?”

[imaginationintowords]

Folklore [song series]

this is me trying

Modern Day AU! Steve Rogers x OC!Reader; Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s life throughout the years.

word count: 3592

[a/n: I’m so sorry that it’s taken me so long to update this and my other story. i’ve been busy with school and work. thank you for your continued patience and support]

previous part

Series Masterlist

Age: 20 Year: Dec. 2014 Location: Brooklyn, NY

"How have you been James?”

Bucky looks out the window to his right. Hands grasped together in his lap as he sits on the dark green sofa across from the woman he's been seeing for the last 5 months.

He ponders the question, making sure to answer it honestly. He looks back at her giving her his full attention again.

"Good," he answers truthfully, a small smile planted on his face. Life has been good. School is going incredibly well. My job is going better than I could've imagined. Really learning a lot."

"How are things going with Natasha?" The older lady asks.

“Great. Really great," Bucky says with a slightly bigger smile.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that," she smiles back, proud to the see progress James has made since his first visit moths ago.

After the blow up he and Steve had, Bucky fell into a depressive state. He refused to talk to anyone about what had happened. It wasn't until his younger sister Rebecca came to talk to him:

"I get you don't want to talk to any of us about what happened last week," she said as Bucky laid in bed looking out the window, his back facing her, "But you can't just stay in bed, hiding for the world. Starving yourself isn't going to solve anything.

"Sulking is only going to make you worse. It's not healthy, Buck. We're all worried. Ma is incredibly worried. She's barely been eating. I hear her wandering the house at all hours, because she can't sleep."

"You don't want to talk to us, fine. But you need to talk to someone. If not for yourself, but for Ma. Please," she begs, before leaving Bucky alone to ponder what she said.

He knew he wasn't coping the healthy way. He hadn't realized how much he was affecting his family by shutting down. The last thing he wanted to do was worry his mother. So he got himself up, took a shower, ate breakfast with his family. They were surprised to see him come down, but tried not to draw any extra attention to it. Rebecca gave him an understanding nod, which he reciprocated. After breakfast, he began his research. He decided to listen to Rebecca's advice and find someone to talk to someone to help him make sense of what is going on in his mind.

And that's how he ended up in Dr. Abraham's office.

"Have you contacted Steve yet?" She asks.

"No," he answered fiddling with his fingers, "I feel embarrassed about the way I reacted."

"That's normal, James," she assured him, "But in order to repair any damage that's been cost, you need to talk to Steve. To move forward. From what you've told me he's a very understanding person. I'm sure once you've apologized and explain to him the steps you've taken to help your mental health, I'm sure he'd be willing to accept you back into his life."

"I'm not so sure," he looked down at his hands.

"You won't know until you've tried. Listen, I'm not here to tell you what to do or what not to do. I'm just here to help you navigate your thoughts a little better. In a more healthy way. If you're really serious about living a more healthier mental life, I think you should talk to him. You don't want to really throw this lifelong friendship away, do you?"

"No, I don't," he shakes his head.

"Good. Remember to be honest," she tells him, "Vulnerability isn't a bad thing. Your feelings aren't a nuisance. it's how you handle them is what matters. I'm not saying you have to talk to him as soon as you walkout of here. I just want you to start making the notion of doing so. Our time is just about up, how about we do this. Some homework for the week.

"I want you to write a letter to Steve. Bring it in next week, you don't have to read it. But I would like to discuss it. What do you say?"

"Okay, I could do that," he agreed.

Christmas week

Steve and Elizabeth flew back home a few days before Christmas. They put their bags in the trunk of their rental car.

The car ride was silent for awhile, both tired after a long flight, now sitting in traffic on their way back to their parents' place. This would be their first time back to Brooklyn since the whole Bucky situation. The road trip back to California was fun, but there was a looming sadness over Steve. It's not like he regrets standing up to Bucky he doesn't. He just wishes thing would've played out differently. He really wished Bucky would've talked to him before he left back to California.

"How are you feeling about being back?" Elizabeth asks, while they sat in traffic.

"I don't know," Steve sighs, "Feels weird going back home and not talking to Bucky."

"Maybe you should try calling him. It's been a few months. I'm sure he'd be willing to hear you out," she said, rubbing his right arm.

"I don't want to push him," Steve said through gritted teeth, his grip on the steering wheel getting tighter.

Bucky had been a touchy subject the last few months. During the first month Elizabeth would ask Steve if he'd heard from him, the answer always being no, followed by Steve shutting down. After that Elizabeth stopped asking, noticing how much it was affecting Steve, but the constant reminder of it wasn't helping. She knew that if Bucky ever did call, Steve would tell her. The only thing she could do was be patient and be there for Steve whenever he needed her.

The holidays kept everyone busy. On Christmas Eve. Steve spent it with Elizabeth's family at her grandma's house. Elizabeth found herself watching Steve play with her younger cousins, she couldn't help but giggle when they roped him into a tea party. She found herself imagining a future where Steve would do the same with their own children. She quickly shook the daydream away. Reprimanding herself a little for even thinking about kids at their young age.

On Christmas morning Elizabeth and Steve spent it with his parents. It was a nice peaceful day just lounging around in their pajamas. For dinner, Elizabeth's parents went over to have dinner at the Rogers' house. It was a nice little send off dinner for their parents who were leaving for Mexico to spend the New Years for a couples' getaway.

Elizabeth and Steve were heading to the Hamptons to spent NYE with Wanda, Thor, Loki, and Scott. They had planned to have a nice, peaceful trip.

While Steve and Elizabeth were at the Hamptons, Bucky and Natasha were spending their NYE at his family's beach cottage in Port Washington.

They were cuddled on the couch surrounded by take out containers, watching the New Years Eve special waiting for midnight to happen.

Bucky got up about 15 minutes to midnight to grab something from the kitchen. He walked back into the room with a new bottle of champagne and two champagne flutes.

"Got some champagne," he said holding it up for Natasha to see.

"Um," Natasha awkwardly shifted in her seat, "Actually about that."

Bucky looked at Nat confused, putting the bottle and flutes down on the coffee table before sitting back down next to her.

"What's wrong" he asked, grabbing the tv remote to mute the tv, and give Natasha his full undivided attention.

"So there's something I haven't told you," she says looking down at her fidgeting fingers.

"You're worrying me Nat," Bucky said, grabbing her hands to help ease her nerves

She looked up to meet his worry filled eyes.

"I'm pregnant," she announced.

Bucky eyes widen at her announcement, instantly dropping her hands. The look on her face showing she was telling the truth.

"How is that possible?" He asks in disbelief, "We've been so careful. We use double the protection. Condoms and you're on the pill."

"Actually about that," she nervously shifted under his intense gaze, "I haven't been on birth control in a little over two months."

"What?" Bucky yelled, quickly rising from his seat, "What do you mean you haven't been on birth control in a little over two months?"

"I got off of it," she shrugged trying to play it off, "It's my body and I can do what I want with it. And I just wanted to give my body a break, I've been on the pill since I was 15."

"I get it's your body, Natasha, I'm all for you doing whatever you want," he stresses, "but you should've told me. I'm your boyfriend, we have sex frequently. You should've at least had the respect of your sexual partner, letting him know that you were no longer on birth control. So in that case I could've been a tad more careful."

"We were using condoms," she half heartedly defended herself.

"They aren't 100% effective Natasha," he gripped his hair, in complete disbelief over this entire conversation, "You even know that. That also doesn't defend yourself for not telling me. You should've told me."

"I'm sorry. It's not like I was planning for this to happen," she yelled.

Bucky just stared at her like she just grew two heads. How is she not freaking out, he thought. They were clearly way too young for this. Which is why they took precautionary measures.

After a few moments of silence Natasha spoke up, "I'm keeping the baby."

Bucky didn't know what to say. He felt the room closing in on him. He started having a hard time catching his breath.

"James," Natasha quietly said, getting up to check on him. He raised his hand, silently telling her to stay where she's at.

He headed for the back door, the house felt too suffocating for him. He walked through the the small yard to the gate that led to the beach. Stumbling around.

To a stranger they would just think he's drunk. In reality he was just having a panic attack.

It was all too much. His mind was racing.

She's pregnant. With a baby. My baby. I'm going to have a kid. I'm going to be a dad. I'm not ready to be a dad. My dad was shit. God I can't be like my dad. I'm not ready for all of this.

He put his hands on his knees, hunched over trying to catch his breath. But he just couldn't. He did the only thing he could think of. He pulled out his phone and dialed the only person he knew would help.

Steve and Elizabeth were laughing with their friends, waiting for the countdown to begin. Steve felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He moved his shoulder off of the back of the couch, where Elizabeth was cuddled up against.

He pulled his phone out and his heart dropped at the name that appeared. He quickly got up and walked out of the living room and upstairs to the room where he was staying in for the week.

Wanda raised her eyebrow at Elizabeth, who just shrugged her shoulders, equally as confused.

"Bucky?" Steve answered the phone, closing the door behind him. He could hear Bucky hyperventilating on the other side.

"Steve," he tried to get out.

"Buck, what's wrong?" Steve asked, pressing the phone even closer to his ear the sound of everyone downstairs counting down to midnight.

"Steve, I-," Bucky was struggling to get out.

"Buck, please try to calm down," Steve stressed, "Inhale, hold it for a few seconds and then exhale. You need to calm down. I can't help you, if I can't understand you."

Bucky tried his best to calm himself down, with Steve talking him through it.

"Now, can you explain to me what's wrong?" Steve asked, hearing Bucky's breathing leveling out more.

"I-I'm not re-ready Steve," Bucky stutters, sniffling his nose.

"It's okay take your time, I'm here whenever you're ready."

"No, it's Natasha.”

"What's Natasha? Is she okay?" Steve questioned, getting more concerned.

"Yes, she's fi-ine," he stuttered again, trying to say the words.

"Where are you Buck?" Steve asked, looking around for his shoes and keys.

"I'm at the beach cottage."

"I'm in the Hamptons. Is there any way you can meet me back at my place?"

"Yeah, I think I can," Bucky said a bit more calmer now.

"Okay, I'll see you soon."

When midnight struck Elizabeth went upstairs to check on Steve, making sure everything was okay. She could hear him on the phone talking to Bucky, trying to calm him down. She waited outside of the door to give them some privacy.

Twenty minutes later Wanda went to go check on them, to find Elizabeth sitting on the floor.

"Is everything okay?" She whispered.

"I don't know," she answered, "I'm waiting for Steve. You can head back down, I'll be down shortly."

"Okay. We're here if you guys need anything," Wanda said before walking back down.

After another 25 minutes Elizabeth heard Steve hang up the phone. She softly knocked on the door, and let herself in. She walked in to see Steve frantically going around the room collecting his things.

"Steve is everything okay?"

"It's Buck. He called me while he was having a panic attack. Something about Natasha," he tells her.

"Is she okay?"

"I think so. I was able to calm him down. I need to get back home," he said putting his things in his suitcase.

"Okay. I completely understand. Do you want me to go with you for the drive?" She asked.

"I don't want you to have to cut your time here short," he says, feeling guilty for bringing this on her.

"Steve, something is clearly going on with Bucky. I want you to go to him, but maybe it's best if I drove. I haven't had a drink in hours, and you seem too frantic. Please let me help," she pleaded, placing her hand on his stopping him.

Steve looked up and noticed the worry on Elizabeth's face.

"Okay," he gave in, "We'll need to leave as soon as we can."

Elizabeth nodded, quickly grabbing her weekender bag and start shoving things in. If they forgot anything's he knew Wanda would bring it back.

They said their quick goodbyes and were on the road within 5 minutes, with Elizabeth behind the wheel and Steve fidgeting in the passenger seat.

Bucky took a few minutes to himself on the beach, trying to make sure his anxiety was at rest before he headed back inside. When he entered the house, Natasha shot up from her seat.

"Happy New Years," she awkwardly said, trying to cut the obvious tension.

"Umm," Bucky scratched his head looking everywhere but at Natasha, "We need to leave."

"What?"

"I mean, you can stay if you want and I'll pick you up tomorrow," he rephrased, "But I can't stay here. I need to go. Steve is meeting me at his house."

"Steve?" She was taken back by that mention, not expecting to hear Bucky say his name. He hasn't mentioned Steve in months.

"Yeah, I called him," Bucky says rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well that's good right?"

"Yeah, listen. I really need to go, so are you going to stay or come with me?"

"To see Steve?"

"No. I would drop you off at your place," he tells her, "I'm seeing Steve alone."

"Will she be there?"

Natasha didn't really know exactly why Steve and Bucky weren't talking, at first. Then she heard that Steve and Elizabeth were dating, and it all made sense. The only person that could tear Bucky and Steve apart. She never told Bucky that she knew. Figured it wasn't worth the fight. Especially not now when she was carrying his child.

To an outsider it might seem like she got pregnant on purpose, but that wasn't the case. She knew they were too young for this, at least that's what she thought when she first found out about the pregnancy a week ago. But now that she's sat with it she's taking it as a sign that this is meant to happen. She's just really hoping that Bucky would see it, if not now but eventually.

"Listen, Natasha, I don't have time for this," he looks her in the eyes, "Are you coming or not?"

"I'll get my bag," she remarked with a snark tone, walking passed him to their shared room.

A couple of hours later Bucky was pulling up in front of the Rogers' house. 2:15 am read the clock in his car. He looked to his right, out the passenger side window to see a dark figure sat on the front steps of the house.

Bucky took one last breath before exiting the vehicle.

As soon as he opened the front gate Steve stood up from where he was sat on the stairs.

Once Bucky approached him both young men threw their arms around each other. Gripping each other tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. They stayed like that for awhile. Relishing in the comfort of being back in each other's arms. Their silent fight no longer important. All they knew in that moment was everything was going to be okay, because no matter what they'll always have each other.

Steve walked into his parents' living room holding two mugs of coffee. As he rounded the couch, he handed one to Bucky.

"Sorry, if I ruined any of your plans," Bucky apologized, "Tell Elizabeth I'm sorry for taking you away."

'Buck, don't worry about it," Steve waved him off, "She completely understands. And truth be told, I wasn't necessarily feeling in the New Year's mood."

"Yeah," Bucky sighs.

"Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?" Bucky nods his head, placing the coffee mug on the coffee table in front of him. He shifted his body to the left to face Steve.

"She's pregnant," he announces.

"What?" Steve asked, not expecting that to be the reason, he quickly placed his mug next to Bucky's.

"Yeah, my reaction exactly," Bucky said.

"What? How?"

"Apparently Natasha hasn't been on the pill in a couple of months," Bucky explains, "And even though we always used condoms, they aren't exactly 100% effective."

"Did you know she wasn't on the pill?"

"Nope," Bucky tells him, "If I knew I wouldn't been a bit more cautious."

"So she told you she was pregnant?" Steve said getting back to it.

"Yeah. She was so nonchalant about it. Like it was no big deal," Bucky stressed,

"How is she just so calm. We're not prepared for this. I'm not ready for this Steve. I can't be a dad. I don't even know how to be a decent human being."

"That's not true Buck," Steve disagreed.

"Come on Steve, we haven't talked in months, and we both know it's not because you didn't try," Bucky says, "I was so caught up in my own jealousy. And selfishness, that I never even considered your feelings or Elizabeth's. And I don't think I can ever make it up to you for treating you like you're nothing to me."

"You were hurt," Steve tried to excuse.

"Doesn't excuse the way I behaved," Bucky says, "I know that now."

"I've been seeing a therapist," Bucky informs him, "I never realized how much my mental health was taking a toll on those around me. So after our fight, I found someone to talk to. To work through the shit that's going on in my mind."

"How's that been going?" Steve asked.

"Good," Bucky gives a half smile, "Really good. She's good. I've realized a lot about myself that I didn't know. Working through all the issues I've had with my father leaving."

"That's good Buck. I'm proud of you, truly," Steve beamed, patting Bucky on the shoulder.

"I really am sorry for the way I behaved," Bucky repeated again.

"Buck, you really don't have to apologize again," Steve told him.

"I need to Steve," he said, "I can't believe I acted that way. I should've been happy for you and Elizabeth. I'm glad you two have each other. Seriously. I couldn't imagine her with anyone better, same goes for you. I won't cause any more issues for you two. It's not worth not having you in my life. You're my brother Steve, and I don't want to miss anything."

"Thanks, Buck. It really means a lot to me to hear that," Steve smiles, "Because I don't want to miss anything in your life also."

"Yeah, especially now," he says, the reality of why they're there dawning back.

"How are you feeling now about the baby?"

"I don't know, man," Bucky shakes his head, "I'm afraid I'm going to screw this up, like everything else."

"But now you're working on that," Steve reminds him, "And you're not going to be doing this alone. You have people who are always going to be there. I may be in California now, but I'm just a phone call away. You're not alone. But you do have to try Buck. That's all that you can ever do. Try your best, no one's asking you to be perfect, but as long as you're trying your best, that's what's important."

Age: 21 Year: 2015

The sounds of a baby crying woke Bucky up from his sleep in the early depths of the morning. He quietly and quickly got out of bed, making his way to the small New York kitchen to make a bottle.

He walked into the small nursery where the two-month-old baby wailed from hunger.

"It's okay," Bucky shushed gently, picking up the small baby, "Daddy's here."

He adjusted the small baby in his arms before placing the bottle in the baby's mouth.

"There you go," he encouraged the small one, as soon as he heard the sounds of the baby drinking.

Bucky sat down on the chair in the corner of the room, opposite of the crib. He just stared as the newborn drank their bottle, while simultaneously falling asleep. Even though he was completely exhausted, he had never felt more happier. More at peace with where his life was at.

As long as he kept trying his best, he knows he can do this for the rest of his life.

[elionwriter]

PROMPT / DRAPLE OF A POSSIBLE FUTURE FIC (PART 2):

"I need your help, Mando" says Greef Karga in his holo-message one day. "I know how busy you are lately, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't so important and I didn't need someone I trust on this". When Din answers the call he learns the details of the mission: Greef had taken so much at heart the renovation and improvement of Nevarro that he had made contact and tried to help cells of patriots of other planets that wanted to attempt the same. One of said groups, on a backwashed planet of the Rim, was having some troubles with a Crime syndicate that thought their efforts would do bad for business. Din's mission was to meet these people and help them plan a strike against the criminal organisation.

Upon reaching the planet and looking around, Din sighs, thinking that it would take a miracle to rehabilitate the place. Everything and everyone is so dirty that he wonders how an epidemic hasn't broken out, the people looks like little, feral animals rather than sentients and he's pretty sure there are some commercial traffics going on that had been banned long before the Empire. Then again, he isn't really surprised, the laws and enforcements of the New Republic don't reach this part of the Galaxy, these planets don't even have representatives in the Senate to speak up for them. They're on their own.

It's as Din is waiting in a crowded square for his contact to arrive that he catches a set of eyes fixed on him. He had felt someone following him from the moment he had left his ship but they hadn't come out yet. He looks down at the creature staring at him with hudge magenta eyes, three of them, and quickly realises it's a child, a girl. She's of a species he has never seen before, with bright yellow skin and feathers covering her head (the yellow and fluff or her feathers is dampered by the grease and dirt), she has four feathery arms and bony legs. She smiles brightly at him and waves. "Need anything, kid?" He asks. "You're sooooo shiny and cool! Can I be your friend?" She asks, voice full of awe. There is no deception in that statement and Din chuckles at it. Patiently he tries to shoo away the child telling her that he is waiting for someone and that things are about to get dangerous.

She's completely undeterred by his words, smile still plastered on her face. So he follows a different line: "Shouldn't you go back to your parents?" " No." "Are they around here?" "No" "Aren't they worried you're out here on your own?" "No" He considers it a moment then asks "Do you...have parents?" "No" she answers with the same airly smile of before. "Anyone that takes care of you?" "No" "A home to go back to?" "No" "Friends...?" "Everyone is my friend. Do you also want to be my friend?" Din sighs, starting to loose patients, wondering what the hell is his contact waiting for to show up. Before he can say anything else the kid points at his blaster "Did you kill anyone with that?" "Yes, I did." "Cooool! Was it a really bad guy? Did a lot of blood come out?" As a last resort Din pulls out a handful of credits and proposes "If I buy you something to eat, will you leave?" She thinks it over a second and asks "can I have caramelled Meiloorun?" Din nods "Even the big one?" Din gets her the treat and watches her skip away happily. It's not long after that he is approached by the right hand man of the organisation he's supposed to aid.

He is brought back to their headquarters and they discuss matters out. Din is surprised to find that they are a group of very level minded and shrewd kids with very good projects for the future and feels more prompted to help them out. They study a plan to strike against the criminal organisation and call it a night. Din is welcomed to stay at their place. As he steps out of the run down building to catch a breather and take a look around he finds the same kid from before waiting for him outside. He asks how long she has been standing there and finds she had been standing there for almost the entirety of his stay. "Hadn't we agreed that you would leave?" He asks "I did leave. Then I came back!" Din sighs. She asks for his name but luckily doesn't really wait for an answer before giving her own. "My name is Ky'lla. Are we friends now?" Din tries very hard to mentally create an interference over the name. Learning her name is definitely not wise and he wonders why she is so stubborn on the idea of befriending him of all people. But as he notices the way she studies with shiny eyes his armour he thinks he starts to understand. "Are you following me because you like my armour?" "Yes! I like shiny things and this is the shiniest thing I've ever seen! Also, you're big and buff and you're really nice too! You bought me candy! Nobody ever buys me candy!" She says excitedly. Din known he shouldn't ask but the question is out before he can stop himself. "Where do you come from? What happened to your family?" She thinks it over a moment then points her finger towards the sky "My homeworld is in that direction. I came here with mom, but mom died a long time ago'. It's sad but I have a lot of friends now." Something tells Din that all the "friends" she talks about are just a bunch of random strangers and passer bye; that befriending everyone she meets is the kid's subconscious response to her loss. "Don't you remember the name of your planet? Or of any planet nearby?" "No. But I am pretty sure it's in that direction" she says pointing in a different position of the sky altogether. "And...were the people of your planet all of your same species?" "Yes, they were." Great, Din thinks, there's really nothing he can do for Ky'l..THE KID considering he has no idea where "there" in space is and has never seen anyone of her likes before. He sees her yawning. Well, there is one thing he can do. "Do you have anywhere to sleep?" "There's the back alley a few streets over with comphy sacks..." She answers and Din pushes her inside the building "tonight you're sleeping in here" he says directing her towards the room meant for him. She flops over on the bed and asks "can you tell me a story?" "Go to sleep" "But if you killed people you must know stories of battles and duels! Can you tell me the most scary one you know?" Din sighs but for some reason finds himself flopping on the floor, near the bed and telling her what they told him, the first nights he was brought into the covert, of the Mythosaurs and how the Mandalorians learned to tame and fly them. He falls asleep as the words and memories cling to him, as he envisions the pendant with the Mythosaur skull he had given Grogu. The pain for loss of him spreads through his tired body like a fresh wound. Ky'lla falls asleep whispering with awe the word "Mandalorian".

In the morning, he wakes her up, gives her a few ration packs and tells her that she really must stop following him now. For the first time she looks actually sad, but doesn't protest as she goes.

Din catches up with the rest of the group and together they prepare the assault to the criminal syndacate's main objective. At first everything goes as planned but quickly things get messy. Din realizes he has to expose himself more than he intended. Firing up the jetpack, he flies up to the targeted power generator and places a frag mine over it. He fires at will at all the enemies that try to approach but one expecially sneaky killer works his way behind him and, preparing his sniper rifle, aims at a junction in between Din's armour. Din notices him a moment too late as the trigger snaps. He braces for an impact that doesn't come. He looks at the man with surprise and finds terror and bewildermente on the other's face as well as he tries to fire over and over. The rifle is insistently empty. Din takes the moment and turns it to his advantage firing his own blaster which knocks the assassin down cold. "I was the one to steal the rifle's charges. Was I good or what!?" Chirpes in a familiar voice. Din is only partially surprised to find Ky'lla popping out of nowhere, proudly waving the rifle's cartridge around. He wants to thank her, ask her how in kriffin hell she managed that and scold her for putting herself in danger's way for him but his pragmatic mind refrained from that. He quickly pulls the child in his arms and flies them both away from there moments before the charge on the power generator goes off in a hudge explosion. "Whoaaa" Ky'lla exclaimes over his shoulder as flames and electric shocks destroy the surrounding space. The patriots cheer happily below as the last standing members of the criminal syndacate run away.

Din is celebrated like a hero but he pays the compliments no mind. One of the young women of the group cuts off a ringed finger from one of their victims and tosses it to Din "there's a hudge bounty on this one! You should collect it, it's the least we can do to thank you." Din accepts the prize and parts ways with the group, Ky'lla following him around like a shadow. When he reaches his new ship and opens the ramp to it Ky'lla takes a shy step backwards and says "I guess it's goodbye, then. It was nice being your friend..." Din smirks at her from behind the helmet and says "Do you really think I don't know you're just going to sneak into the ship somehow? Let's save time and come in." Ky'lla looks at him in disbelief "you really mean it?!" Din signals her to follow and with a high pitched squeel she goes to hug his legs. "I've got some friends, I'm sure one of them will accept to take care of you" he says, even as part of him already knows that the kid will stick to his side.

Din prepares the launch sequence and soon they are travelling in hyper space. He sends Ky'lla to immediately take a shower in the 'fresher and in the meantime he sends a message to Karga to report on the end of the mission and to prepare the money for the bounty he collected.

Ky'lla comes back to the cockpit looking ten times brighter and fluffier than she did before. "Since I'm staying with you for a while, can you teach me to fight like you do?!" Asks the child. "I could be very good! With four arms I could grab the bad guys from the scruff and tickle them to death!" She says stating her case. "Do you really want that? It's a difficult and intense training..." "Sure! And can I have an armour like yours too?!" "You must become a Mandalorian and earn each piece of it to have one." He says carefully testing the ground. "Then that's what I want to be: a Mandalorian! Can I?" "Well, technically everyone can become a Mandalorian..." "THAT'S AWESOME! Till yesterday I was no one and now I'm gonna become a Mandalorian!!! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" The child starts running around bursting at the seams with happiness. Din laughs. "I want to learn everything there is to know about Mandalorians!" She exclaims and Din sighs out a "Yeah, so do I" "Why, don't you know everything about them already? You are one" He explains that there are very few Mandalorians left, that a lot of their history and culture has been wiped out and that he had very limited access to what was left growing up.

Eventually, the kid tires out and falls asleep in her seat. Din looks back at her and replays all the recent events in his mind, trying to figure out just how he found himself with a new kid under his responsibility. This had been a wrong move. The last time he did so broke his heart and even if it was the right thing to do, he doesn't know if he can get over that same loss again. His latest adventure however lights up a sudden and inspired idea in his mind. He reaches for the console and sends out two holo messages. One to Luke Skywalker and the other to Bo-katan Kryze asking her where to meet up and stating with confidence that he has a proposition for her.

[aelaer]

First: welcome home & I hope you get the sleep you need to get back into your routines! Second: it's Feb. 2, a significant day to our beloved Stephen Strange. I know you're exhausted right now, and the timing is poor--but perhaps when you're up to, you could write a little one-shot about his feelings all these years later (is it 2022 or 2023?) on the anniversary of the accident that changed his life forever. Can't think of anyone better suited to write it! xx

This was sent a year ago but last month I planned to have it out for Feb 2nd, hah.

For canon, he comes back in 2023 in what I think was likely after Feb 2nd, so realistically he can address the anniversary again in 2024. It'd feel like only 3 years for him while, in actuality, it'd been 8. But when it comes to his experienced time versus actual passing time, Stephen's pretty messed up without the Decimation already (I'm not sure how I feel about the name of the "Blip" yet.)

The prompter also requested first person after I asked for more details, and I haven't ever written Stephen in first person so I thought I'd give it a go. I know first person isn't everyone's cup of tea, but if you're willing to give it a shot, call me very obliged.

Warning for canon compliance :P

——————

Staring Back In Time Rating: G (well, other than language)

An entry from the memoirs of Doctor Stephen Strange, Earth's Sorcerer Supreme, during his time as the Master of the New York Sanctum, several months after the Battle of Earth against Thanos:

February 2, 2024

Calendars don't mean as much as they used to. Once upon a time my life was ruled by the calendar. Consultation here, surgery there, society dinner over the weekend. Dates were important and generally set without change once marked down.

It doesn't work that way as a sorcerer. I keep a schedule, of course, one that marks down classes with apprentices and adepts and meetings with other Masters, never mind all the business outside of Kamar-Taj. But I learned early on that these set times shifted occasionally to accommodate the emergencies that the order often had to quash down, and it became obvious that as a Master, my schedule was more of a hopeful guideline than anything set in stone. Flexibility was a necessity.

Ever since my return to the living, keeping anything resembling a set schedule has been more of a laughable dream. Earth being the center of two universe-changing, Infinity Stone-powered events in a matter of hours did serious damage to the fabric woven about reality across the planet, and the Masters of the Mystic Arts are going to be dealing with the multidimensional repercussions for years to come. Nothing is predictable in my day-to-day anymore.

My relationship with time was fucked the moment I confronted Dormammu, so I can't say it's a large surprise that calendars have become mostly irrelevant.

If someone had told me that I, Doctor Stephen Strange, a man of order and precision, would learn to live with such unpredictability, I would have laughed in their face. But I'm not the man I once was (and thank God for that; that man was a dick). However, it's also because of this change that I didn't realize the day until it was nearly done.

I was reviewing my schedule for tomorrow, which I had set up on Google Calendar (Google had, naturally, survived the Decimation just fine, but like most other non-vital services, had many of their upcoming products delayed for years. But their email and calendar services continue to work great). Tomorrow's a Saturday, which means nothing in my world. My work continues on. The threats on our reality care little for weekends or holidays.

Still, it was only during this review, shortly before I planned to retire for the night, that I realized that today is February 2nd.

I won't ever forget the day, of course. It was both three years ago and eight years ago—or perhaps many lifetimes ago would be a more accurate description, though I lost track of time in both of my major journeys with the Time Stone. One day I'll write about them. Not now, but one day. Both memories are still too fresh.

The memory of the day of the accident, though? It feels both like yesterday and centuries ago. Some parts of the day are engraved in my memory like a film. I remember the last surgery down to the individual conversations. Christine's "thank you". Nick's watch. The cling of the bullet as I dropped it onto the tray.

I can remember my last conversation with Billy, too, in the car. Every damned word. But the drive itself is fuzzy, even in my head with my memory. I remember it began to rain during the drive, not beforehand, and I know the road was narrow and two-laned. I know I avoided a direct route to avoid traffic, driving first into Jersey before heading north and crossing the river again. But the rest is forgotten to time, or perhaps to trauma.

I was told that Billy was the first to call 9-1-1 as he heard the tearing of metal and shattering of glass before the connection was lost. The driver I hit—I learned much later that she escaped with only minor injuries—called a couple minutes later. But it was out in the mountains, dark, and raining. It took them hours to find me and extract me from the car.

Funny. Never thought I'd ever write about one of the worst days of my life like this. But I was told early on that personal journals were encouraged for all who stay in Kamar-Taj. Something about its therapeutic benefits was mentioned at some point. I only picked up the practice once I learned that each gifted journal was inaccessible to others until the time of their death, and after I mastered the art of enchanting a pen to write the words I spoke. Unfortunately this journal appeared to others after the Decimation, but Wong has reassured me that no one read it and it has since disappeared again from public view. 

Still, the point is that, one day, someone just might read this—account of a man who was part of an effort to save the universe. And it is difficult for a reader to judge my actions if they don't know how I was the one who ruined my life. My driving was reckless and stupid. I was running a little late, but it wouldn't have mattered in the long run had I been fifteen, twenty minutes, thirty minutes late. Not really.

Then again, I suppose it would have. I certainly wouldn't be here right now.

One could say that the accident and everything that has followed is some sort of penance for my hubris as a surgeon. I enjoy my newer abilities—quite a bit—but the responsibility that has come with them has not come without its own hardships and sacrifices. Perhaps the worst of the sacrifices were the ones I was unable to prevent others from performing, all for the sake of the universe.

Those sacrifices were made willingly, but I cannot help but feel responsible for them, regardless. 

During my first winter again returned to the living, when the days grew colder and my hands ached in the bad weather, and the only thoughts to accompany the pain were bitter, another thought was born. I was tempted, for the first time in a long time, to give it all up, restore my fine motor skills with channeled magic, and go back to the world I once knew, for a life much, much easier than this one is now. Even with all the troubles that had cropped up as people tried to reorganize a world that doubled in size overnight, it was miles away from the difficulties we were facing in Kamar-Taj.

Their sacrifices—the fates I pushed so many people towards—quelled the idea quickly. It did little to ease the physical pain or sting of guilt, but it lifted the temptation. And ever since that day, I have considered the situation and I don't think I will ever be tempted by the idea of giving up my duties for an easier, pain-free life again.

And I suppose that counts for something.

——————

(Hey look, my interest in geography's leaked again.)

I've always wondered where Stephen actually crashed mostly because New York City is *flat* and those mountains were *very much not flat*. I figured out the bridge that he crossed to get out of the city (there are like, 21 bridges that lead out of Manhattan) was the George Washington Bridge, and it leads to New Jersey—but that's not necessarily useful because it can quickly turn back into New York state if you turn north. We also know he crashed down into a body of water, which *might* be the Hudson, but also might not, but that the body of water is to his left, which narrows it down a bit. But again, not much. And the site of his crash is so dark in the videos and screenshots that I can barely tell what's on it. It looks like a bridge and some industrial building, so the Hudson's a good guess, but otherwise? Well, basically I turned on the topography part of Google maps and started searching.

The 202 on the east side of the river just north of Peekskill (again in New York) matches the movie road's windiness, height, and closeness to the river, and even has a bridge that could be just to the north of the crash site. Unfortunately the railing's off and there's no industrial building thingy by the bridge. It also makes the route out of the city via George Washington Bridge make no sense. Like the Stark Industries area in LA in the films, it's probably a completely fictional landscape.

But as I wasn't able to find a better locale that was still close enough to NYC to direct an emergency helicopter to, my headcanon for this scene is that he left via George Washington bridge to avoid some major traffic or something, crossed the river via the 287 a bit further up north to get back to the east side of the river, then went up the 9 to the 202. Unless someone who lives in the area can find the actual road he was driving (if it's real), this is what I'm gonna go with. (And if someone DOES please let me knowwwww). Funny enough, I don't see him getting led to *his* hospital totally unrealistic, because he'd need a very talented orthopedic surgeon with a specialty in hands to come in, and generally speaking a patient can be helicoptered to another hospital where such a surgeon is available. If Stephen is working at the Metro-General, it's likely they can afford a large cast of talented surgeons. So I don't think Nick was necessarily the lead surgeon in his case, just one of many necessary surgeons.

[eyitsroseau]

Across the World Part 2 (Dr. Xeno dad! x Reader) Dr. Stone fanfic | A mini-series

In which you found out you were pregnant pre-petrification to your long time boyfriend NASA scientist, Xeno. However, when you told him the news, he wanted nothing to do with it because his top priority is his research. Hurt, you decided to find refuge and start anew in the country you have always wanted to live in, Japan. Post-petrification and Senku announced they'll be traveling to America. As you have lived there before, they took you and your one-year-old daughter along. Now, thousands of years later, you'll find yourself face to face with the man who had hurt you the most across the world.

Part 1

Part 3

Xeno can never forget the first time he saw you- not that he ever wants to. He was late for a convention and the traffic isn't helping either. To his folly, he decided to reach the venue by walking. He is well aware that his body is not in its perfect condition and the sun's heat will make him eventually pass out.

And he did. That was not his proudest moment. He knows he can just call the program director and cover him for a while. But his intuition told him to go out. His intuitions are never wrong.

That's when he met you- him passed out and you- a nurse passing by. You immediately called for an ambulance and assessed your then patient. He's having a fever and you guessed that the heat precipitated his condition.

In the middle of your assessments, he briefly regained consciousness. He was sure then that he saw an angel.

Well, that angel turned out to be the nurse in charge of him. He was way too overjoyed but you on the other hand are pissed. His obvious flirting gets on your nerves and won't let you work in peace.

But as days go by, you are slowly getting used to his antics. It even saddened you when he is discharged. You thought you will never see him again.

Oh, how wrong you were. Because every day, he passes by the hospital to greet and bring you food. Efforts like this make a woman's heart melt.

And so, after five months of getting to know each other, the two of you officially became a couple. It was the happiest day of Xeno's life.

9 months into your relationship, you both decided to move in together. There, you learned a lot about each other- all the good and the bad. Your relationship was not perfect. You sometimes fight but neither of you let the day end without making up. After all, makeup sex is the best.

So when did everything changed? Xeno knows the truth, of course. He was stressed and overworked. Multiple projects have been forced on him and the pressure is starting to grip on him like vines.

It was not right to dump all his frustrations at you but he can't help it. There are nights when he can't go home as he is still completing his formulas. Add to that, he feels everything is irritating.

So when, one day. When you told him the big news, he was just being honest. A baby? In the middle of all of this? He doesn't want it.

At first, that is.

He finds himself not concentrating at his work because he's distracted. A vision of you, him and your child would often pop in his mind. And to be honest, he loves it the more he thinks about it.

He suddenly became energized. He miraculously finished everything he needed to be done that day. There's a kick to his steps as he bounded with a hum along the way. His co-workers are a bit startled by the change in his attitude. Not a long while, he was snapping at everyone. But now, he even smiles and wishes them a nice weekend.

He even went to a flower shop to buy your favorite flowers. He ordered your favorite food in your favorite restaurant. He knows he had hurt you and he will surely make it up to you. He will tell you that he's with you and he can't wait to be a father.

But, he never did. The moment he stepped inside your shared apartment, he dropped those precious flowers. He instantly knew.

You are gone, taking along with you the visions of his future.

Xeno did not waste any time. He called his detective friend, Daisuke. And in a matter of seconds, he found out you are headed to Japan. Relief washed over him as he now knows you're safe. He will finish his works then he will come after you.

And again, he never did. There is a lot of troubleshooting that needs to be done because his assistants messed up a lot. Not only that, the government assigned him to study the stone phenomenon in sparrows.

When he arrived at a hypothesis, he gathered all the national leaders. He would get this done and over with so he can board on a plane and be with you when the petrification starts.

But it seems that luck is never on his side. The bright light appeared sooner than he thought. And right there and then, in the meeting with the leaders, he turned to stone.

He keeps his mind busy. Counting each second, days, weeks, months, and years. He would reminisce about your moments together. Sometimes, daydream about your family.

After one thousand years later, he knew that the world will never be the same again if mankind would be revived.

Two thousand years in, he starts strategizing what to do for him to start again if he breaks out of this stone.

Three thousand years later, he wills himself to wake up in the springtime so he can gather food and have the best rate of survival.

Finally, 3,700 years later, he is depetrified. He didn't waste time gathering resources for him to survive.

The universe might have pitied him from all the wrong timings he had in his life that they gifted him the precious power of platinum. With that, he was able to build his kingdom of science.

Now that he can create weapons, boats, and airplanes, he is ready to sail across the world to find you. He will not leave any stone unturned. Heck, he'll even dig the whole of Japan just to find you. Hopefully, he can also find his child.

He's sure that his child would be over a year old by the time the world has been petrified. He can't wait to be finally reunited with you. He will do what it takes to make it up to you even if it's thousands of years too late. He loves you and the child he never met more than anything.

And again, luck has never been on his side because Senku's troops stopped him from setting sail that day. He can't leave his Kingdom in this state. After all, this is where his family will live someday. He has to protect this home first.

But alas, the universe is a conniving bastard. He didn't expect to meet you, 3,700 years later in a yacht and in Senku's team.

He has been speechless the moment he gazed on the white-haired little girl in your arms.

It was a little girl, huh? His... daughter.

He felt tears prick his eyes upon seeing the child that is a result of your love for each other.

"I guess you never want me."

It hurts every single cell in his body upon hearing his daughter say that. He was left standing there, seeing his family leave again. For so many years, he had practiced what to say and do the moment he'll find you. But, all words had left him

He was about to follow you but his mentee stopped him.

"Leave them for a while. Xenka-chan's an intelligent girl but she's still a child. Let her be comforted by her mother," Senku advised his mentor.

Xeno sighed and knew that the boy is right. He might make the situation worse than it already is. He plopped right back on the sofa he's sitting on a while ago.

"Xenka, huh," he muttered.

"I know right? It seems that Y/N-san does really love you. She named her child after you," Senku grinned at him.

"Our child," he corrected the young scientist.

"Kukuku. Do you want information about them? I can give it to you plus, I'll help you win them over," of course, Senku has his villain face on while saying that.

Xeno knows that there's no helping it. After all, his and Senku's objective is the same- kind of. He will set aside everything just to find his way back into his family. Now that they're here, he will work his ass for you and Xenka's forgiveness.

"What's your condition?" he finally asked and Senku looked like he won the jackpot.

"Ah, do you know that she's just one and a half years old but she correctly guessed the formula and ingredients to the revival fluid just by sniffing them. She even deduced its function. Man, your child is seriously a genius," Senku goes on and on.

On the other hand, Xeno has integrated everything his mentee told him. It appears that Xenka has taught herself language from her memories with her mother. Then, she went to learn all kinds of sciences from the books she happened to scan as a yet clueless baby.

His baby girl has kept her mind active for thousands of years that it didn't surprise him to know that she has depetrified herself first.

According to Senku, his daughter has been his little assistant. Supplying him with what she's learned over the years.

"To be honest, she's almost on my level and she's just almost two. Wait until she grows up a bit and I'm sure she'll be living in the lab. It irritates her how small her body is to do anything," the two men chuckled.

"Oh, I bet once she can grasp the flasks and beakers well, she's on to her experiments. She's surely my daughter," Xeno said with a smile on his face. He could never be more than proud.

"The only problem is how to approach them," he muttered, feeling down once again.

"Don't sweat the little details that much. Xenka will surely gravitate to your intelligence and you'll have her talking to you in no time. Now, it is Y/N that you should be thinking about," Senku rose from his seat, looking at the other scientist in his room. An evil grin forming on his sinful lips.

"Chrome, go get Xenka,"

The little squirt has a frown on her face after finding herself tied to a chair. She was dragged away from her mother after her afternoon nap and she doesn't want to spend it with the man who had abandoned them.

"Listen here, Xenka-chan. I've strucked a deal with your father so you have to listen to him," Senku said patting the girl's head.

She looked the other way and pouted, "how can you sell me like that, oniisan?"

Senku chuckled at this, "it's not like you know everything, now don't you? But don't worry we didn't plan to force you to listen to him,"

Xenka rolled her eyes, "I'm tied to a chair. If this isn't using force then I don't what is," she deadpanned.

Xeno can't help but smile. Surely enough, his daughter inherited his intelligence but also her mother's stubbornness.

"Oh, you'll want to talk to him after this," Senku mischievously grinned at his 'little sister'. He knows exactly how to get the interest of this child.

"Oi, my dear mentor, are you ready to calculate and pinpoint where exactly the petrification beam started?"

That piqued the interest of the little girl.

After two hours of theorizing and calculating, the two had determined the exact location of what they're looking for. The two scientists stared at each other in silence before grinning and high fived each other.

In the small corner of the room, Xenka has her eyes widened, sparkling bright stars littered in her black depths.

"That- that was. I never heard anything like it," she breathed still in a daze after witnessing a thorough and scientific conversation like that. It made her heart beat fast and her curiosity about her father broadens.

"How is it Xenka?" Xeno courageously asked his child. Noting that this is the first time he's ever interacting with her.

Xenka hesitates. She doesn't want to talk to him because before he had hurt her, he hurt her precious mama first. However, her oniisan said that she doesn't know the entirety of the story. With her trust in her oniisan, she decided to give her father the benefit of the doubt.

The little girl looked to the side with a frown and a pout, "I guess you're not that b-bad," she says, a small blush already taking her cheeks.

This filled Xeno's heart with warmth and hope. He feels giddy and wants to empress her daughter more.

"Do you want to discuss aerodynamics with me?" Xeno asked.

The girl's head immediately snapped to his, eyes bright like a sparkling diamond, "let's start with Newton's third law of motion,"

The afternoon dragged on with the father and daughter droning on and on about rocket science.

It was already dinner time and you had not seen even the shadow of Xenka. She was dragged earlier by Chrome to see Senku and you knew that it has something to do with her father.

You sighed, you know your daughter well. If Xeno runs his mouth about anything related to Science then your daughter is done for. She's a sucker for intelligent people and there's no way she'll pass up the opportunity of talking to her dad.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you heard little giggles coming your way. There, in the hallway, you are faced with Xeno holding your daughter in his arms. Just like what you had imagined for a long time. It pains you and yet it flutters happiness in your heart. This is like a dream.

"Mama!"

Xeno's eyes snapped on you when he heard his daughter call you. You, on the other hand, felt overly conscious under his scrutinizing gaze. He noted how you have become even more beautiful since the last time he had seen you.

"Xenka, dinner's ready. You have to eat. Come here to mama," you coaxed your child, wanting to go away far from the man.

"No, mama! I want to be with papa! There's still a lot of stories I want to hear." You sighed. She already calls him papa, huh? That was quick.

"Mama, it's alright now. Papa explained to me already. He said he didn't want me at first but he changed his mind. He even went and bought you flowers and your favorite food so he can ask for your forgiveness and makeup with you that day. But mama, you had already left," you are taken aback by what your daughter stated.

You don't know what to feel or say.

"Well, he can just message me or approach me. Why didn't he?" You spat, feeling the bitterness rise again.

Your daughter scoffed at you, "mama, papa has like twenty projects at that time. As a scientist, I can understand why he has not contacted you though it kinda hurts but still. I know that he loves us and wants to be with us, mama," your daughter asked her father to be put down.

She went to you and hugged your knee, "Mama, I know we can't change what happened and I'm not invalidating how you feel. But, we have been through so much and even then, the three of us woke up in the same era and we even reunited. Aren't our family lucky to have found each other? Please think about it, mama. I know you have forgiven him a long time ago and you still love him," you are amazed at how you're precious daughter had spoken as if she's already older than you. Well, truly she is way too mature for her age of one year.

Xeno, on the other hand, can't believe how his daughter can sprout out those words. He feels so proud and yet at the same time he had hoped he had seen his little girl when she was still a blubbering mess. But, well, this is who Xenka is now, and he won, 't have it any other way.

"I'll leave the two of you alone to talk, mama and papa," the girl said after tapping gently her mother's leg. She then went on her way to Francois but then, she turned back to her dumbstruck parents.

"Oh, and I want a little brother," she said before skipping away.

That left the two a blushing mess. Gosh, can their daughter not? But even then, Xeno knows this is his chance to redeem himself.

"Y/N," he muttered. You notice how good your name rolls in his tongue.

"Was it true? Everything she said?" You asked. Clenching your hands from nervousness.

"It is. I'm sorry y/n. The last words I told you had tortured me for thousands of years. I had hurt you truly and that hurt me badly too. Not having you beside me is like living in hell. I'm sorry it took me a few hours to accept our child. And within those hours, it had cost you and our child," his voice broke down in the end as tears started to fall down his face.

It is a shock to you. Never, you had never seen him cry. You had never seen him this weak and lonely. You realized that you are not the only one who has been affected by the separation as you watched the broken man presenting you his crumbled pieces.

Your heart clenched. Was your love too shallow to have not trusted him back then? Had you just let him cool off for a bit, he had gone home to a warm apartment. You understood that he was pressured too much at that time and you left blinded by the hurt.

Looking back now, you realized you just wanted to get his attention. So you left, in hopes, he'll come running after you. But he never did, and it made you resent him more. You didn't even think for a second how he may have felt. He was tied down by his projects and you knew that if only he was free, he'll come running to you. Humanity relied on his projects and a single error can cost lots of lives. You knew this but still, you only trusted your selfishness.

"Xeno, I-" you can't take it anymore. You cried your heart out and he immediately embraced you.

"I'm sorry, Xeno. I'm sorry. I have been selfish and truly I am sorry," you added between sobs.

You felt Xeno shake his head, "it's understandable y/n. I was also wrong. It's okay now," he continues to console you, rubbing your back.

"Well, I know a lot has changed but why don't we start over again, yeah?" He whispers.

You pulled away from him to look him in the eyes, "how?"

He thought for a few seconds before grinning, the one that has always make your heart leap.

"I own this yacht and there's a little room downstairs. Maybe we can start with our daughter's request," he proposed naughtily.

You only smacked him in the head which made him chuckle.

"Oh my god Xeno, that's horrible! Where?" This time, it is you who had a smirk in the face. Xeno did not expect you to play along but this fired him up.

"Let's have twins this time," he said before pulling you somewhere.

In the distance, the crew of eavesdroppers finally sighed as they watched the reunited couple leave.

"That was quick," Ryusui commented.

"They're not teenagers anymore, you know," Senku replied and carried a smiling Xenka.

"They had like thousands of years to think over what happened so why wait now? It's so obvious they love each other, it makes me want to barf," the little girl muttered.

"Kukuku. I bet you are the happiest of all Xenka-chan," the leek-y scientist grinned.

"Your right, oniisan. My family is now complete and we may have another member in a few months," she said exuding the happiness she truly felt inside her heart.

"Alright, everyone, the food is already done!"

With that, the crew followed Francois never minding the distant moans and groans coming from below.

[jazy3]

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 17X12

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Well that was an intense episode. Wow. I have to say this episode left me shaken, but I think that was the point. To put it in your face and make you take notice. The other bad stuff going on in the world doesn’t just stop because there’s a pandemic going on as much as we all wish it would. In this episode the show covered a lot of ground. They showed the Black Lives Matter protests and talked about previous protest movements that have taken place. They tackled police brutality and anti-black racism and violence and how traumatizing and fatal a simple traffic stop can be if you’re black.

They showed anti-Asian racism and the difficulties of treating someone who doesn’t think COVID-19 is real. They addressed issues about health care reform in the United States and how the most vulnerable people in society are the hardest hit right now. It was a hard watch. It boggles my mind that there are people out there that think COVID is a hoax or that health care professionals are getting kickbacks of some kind. People who believe that have a greatly over estimated view of how government and health care institutions operate. The idea that a government or a hospital would ever be in a position to do such a thing is absurd and the idea that people would perpetuate that on a mass scale is just ridiculous.

The patient that Bailey treated who was a COVID denier infuriated me! How can people be so stupid? So ignorant? So disrespectful? I get why Bailey freaked out and had to take a minute. I would too. I love that she still tried to help the man get better and tried to frame things in a way he could understand. But he still refused and while she was gone, he signed out AMA. Ultimately, he was killed by his own ignorance and I felt for Bailey when she was ranting to Teddy about how ridiculous it all is.

This was a small moment but when Bailey comes over to talk to the COVID denying patient he calls the surgical resident whose treating him, Dr. Mabel Tseng, a nurse. After Bailey corrects him, he doesn’t apologize he just calls them ‘her’. So not only does this guy think COVID is a hoax but he’s also racism and sexist. I like that they showed that just because there’s a pandemic going on and the focus of the episode is on anti-black racism and police violence that doesn’t mean that the racism and sexism that other people experience magically goes away.

I like the way they handled the protests and showing the different ways people choose to respond in times of crisis. Richard went to march, Jackson realized he felt like he wasn't doing enough, Catherine continued to try to work within the system, and Hayes had to make difficult choices about whether to let his boys go to protests and was injured when he had to step in front of someone who tried to attack his sons. I hate that this stuff isn’t fictional. I hate that there are real people out there getting hurt and killed every day for no reason.

As a white person I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for parents and guardians to have to make decisions about this kind of thing. How do you keep your child safe when the people you are supposed to call in an emergency want them dead? What do you do when the state itself considers you disposable? A non-human object? Do you march and protest and try to make your voice heard and make a difference? Or do you stay home and keep to yourself and try to help in other ways? What do you do knowing that just being at home does not keep you or your child safe?

One bright spot in this episode for me was seeing Hayes interact with his sons and getting to see more of their dynamic. Watching him grapple with figuring out what the right thing to do was with regards to letting his boys protest or making them stay home was heartbreaking. Also the fact that he was so blasé about getting hit on the head with a Billy Club to the point that he needed stitches to Jackson really got me. The fact that he had to step in front of his children to stop them from being attacked by a neo-Nazi is insane and I hate that real people in real life have to deal with this.

I loved getting to learn more about who Hayes is as a parent and his relationship with his boys and his sister-in-law. I loved the scene at the end there where he told them he realized he was wrong and that this was their country and if they want to protest, they should but only during the daytime and only with him for safety. I particularly liked that scene because they’ve established that Hayes is Irish and that he grew up and spent most of his adult life living in Ireland before moving to Switzerland and then the U.S. But his wife Abigail was an American which would make his boys Irish American and most likely dual citizens.

His boys are black and biracial, and they were born in another country and recently immigrated to the U.S. This episode takes place at the end of May in 2020. Trump was still in office and things were going from bad to worse. Which is a very scary time to be all of those things for Hayes’ boys, so I get why he struggled with this. But I also understand why he decided to let them protest. As Hayes says this is a moment. I wish that coming up on a year later we could say that things have radically improved. And while there have been some improvements not enough has changed. In the U.S., Canada, and so many other places.

The scenes with Winston being stopped by the police were scary and I hate that that is the reality for so many people. A lot of the issues they showed in this episode with regards to how black people are treated are just as much of a problem here in Canada. The rates are less in some cases because our population is lower than the U.S. and we have stricter gun control laws, but the issues are just as real and as heartbreaking. I felt like I was going to throw up watching those scenes.

It was so hard to watch, and I was so scared for Winston. What really got me is that I knew Winston wasn't going to die because they upped him to a regular cast member at the start of this season but for the real-life people who go through this that is not a guarantee. They don't know if they are going to make it out alive at a simple traffic stop. My heart broke for Winston and for Maggie. As a white person I cannot imagine the terror that black, brown, and Indigenous people in my own country and elsewhere must feel every time this happens. I got why Maggie was so distraught and unable to focus. I would panic too.

It would be extremely difficult for anyone to focus on their work when you know the police could be murdering your fiancé at that very moment. I'm glad that Richard was there to help and support her so that she could then help her patient. I definitely think Maggie and Winston are endgame. I got that vibe from the beginning and I still feel it now. I’m starting to feel like this season’s finale will feature Maggie and Winston’s wedding.

I also thought the scene where Jackson came to talk to Catherine about why she didn’t take him to protests as a kid and why they don’t go to protests was interesting. Jackson was upset because he suddenly realized that he felt like he wasn't doing enough or being involved enough. He wanted to know why his mother didn't take him to protests and why she taught him to work inside of a system that was never made to include people like them and still isn't. He's angry because that clearly isn't working. Catherine for her part felt like she had suffered enough and just wanted to keep her son safe and took what Jackson said as a personal offense.

This is one of the aspects of Catherine's character that I really don't like because she takes things really personally that aren't really about her at all. I liked seeing some more follow up to what Jackson and Mama Ortiz were talking about last week and Jackson's ongoing fight to really help people in Seattle in a more systemic and long-lasting way. I have no idea where Jackson is headed at the end of the episode and I'm really interested to find out. I also liked the scenes in the hyperbaric chamber where Levi heard Meredith's voice in his head telling him what to do and not to panic. He’s really coming into his own as a doctor. He’s no longer the bumbling idiot who dropped his glasses into a body cavity on his first day.

I thought the editing and the inclusion of Meredith’s voice was really well done. I’m disappointed that Jo is switching specialties and choosing to go into OBGYN because as I’ve said before I don’t feel that they’ve given us enough set up here. I thought we got some great set up in that one episode about her switching to Urology and being mentored by Catherine and I’m sorry they’re not going that route. She briefly talks to Hayes in this episode and they’ve worked a few cases together now and she still hasn’t brought up her desire to switch so I think it’s safe to say that Hayes won’t be mentoring her or training her. My guess is that Carina will be the one doing that. Although I can’t understand why Jo hasn’t approached her on screen or mentioned that by this point.

I think this storyline will only last so long if the show gets another season. There’s only so much content they can create out of ‘Jo delivers babies and sleeps with Jackson’. I think Jo will make the switch and then will get bored quickly and wind up re-specializing again in either pediatric, fetal, or neo-natal surgery. It was nice to see Teddy back at work and doing better and I really loved the sweater that Amelia wore in the brief scenes that she had. While watching this episode my best friend and I were talking about how those of us who lived through the pandemic and this time of social unrest will probably never want to re-watch certain episodes of this season and other shows or media from this time because it's just too hard.

It's too painful. It's too raw. I understand now why people who grew up during times of war and social unrest don't want to talk about it. Don't want to look at anything that reminds them of that time. We're still in it and I already feel that way. Onto next week’s promo! And it looks like I was right! Derek is coming back in what appears to be his last appearance. Him and Meredith are shown talking and embracing and I think Meredith is going to wake up and return to the land of the living once and for all. It’s also been revealed that April will be returning not next week but the week after. I’m excited to see what April returning will mean and how it affects Jackson and Jo’s storylines.

Until next time!

[spellscarred]

GOOD MENTAL HEALTH GAMES

So here’s a list of games that help me get through bad days, whether it’s just being out of spoons, or being triggered, or just needing to not think for a hot second, it doesn’t matter. I’ll make sure to tell you why they might appeal, because not every game will work for every mood/situation.

STARDEW VALLEY [ PC / XBOX1 / PS4 / SWITCH / IOS / ANDROID ] — of course, this is the ultimate good mental health game. It’s very relaxing, it’s involved enough that you can focus on it without having to do anything intensive. You can play at your own pace, and you can even play with a friend, if you need that extra support.

GRAVEYARD KEEPER [ PC / XBOX1 / PS4 / SWITCH / IOS / ANDROID ] — this game is here for the same reason as stardew valley, but with an entirely different vibe. You play a man from our time who’s mysteriously transported to medieval times, who has to run a graveyard to find his way back. If Stardew Valley is too soft and cutesy for you, you’ll like Graveyard Keeper’s more morbid twist on it. Steeped in dark humour.

NO MAN’S SKY [ PC / XBOX1 / PS4 ] — surely everyone’s heard of this game from its disastrous launch back in 2016. Since then, Hello Games has worked tirelessly to bring existing and new players free updates and turn it into the game that they’d promised from the start. I’d say they’ve delivered. This game is vast, with plenty to do, plenty to see; you can get lost exploring planet after planet, learning more about the other civilisations that inhabit the galaxies (yes, plural), trading, hunting pirates, raiding freighters, owning freighters, base building, playing with friends... This game can initially be very overwhelming, but the key to this game is to just focus on one thing at a time.

ASTRONEER [ PC / XBOX1 / PS4 ] — if No Man’s Sky is too vast for you, then you might want to try your hand at Astroneer. It’s a lot more contained, much more stylised, and since there’s less content, it’s a lot harder to lose yourself in how much there is to actually do and thus get overwhelmed. Just a fun, lowkey planetary exploration game with cartoon-y graphics. Also with co-op options.

CITIES: SKYLINES [ PC / XBOX1 / PS4 / SWITCH ] — if you’re looking for something to just relax with but still get the sense you’re doing something productive, then you might want to try your hand at Cities: Skylines. The goal is to make a functional city, down to managing the flow of traffic and meeting the zoning demands of your citizens, et cetera. It’s easy to pour a few hours into this once you get the hang of it. Of course, you can also go the Sims route and just give yourself infinite money to design a city to your wishes.

JURASSIC WORLD EVOLUTION [ PC / XBOX1 / PS4 ] — so this is like the old Zoo Tycoon, if the animals were large long-extinct creatures that have a habit of breaking out of their habitats if sufficiently agitated. There’s two ways you can play the game; you can follow the story line, which slowly seeks to reclaim the islands lost in the Jurassic Park trilogy, right down to wrangling the now wild dinosaurs roaming the islands and turning the GenSec bases into functional parks. Or, once you get a 4 star rating on Isla Matanceros, you go sandbox mode on Isla Nublar, which provides you with ample space and neigh unlimited money to go wild on.

BORDERLANDS 2 [ PC / XBOX1 / PS4 / IOS / ANDROID ] — if you’re more into shoot and loot, you’ll find Borderlands 2 (and the Borderlands franchise in and of itself) quite satisfying. I recommend BL2 especially because while it’s dated, its graphics and gameplay still holds up, it’s on older gen consoles as well, and its price tag is a lot less costly than immediately going for Borderlands 3. The game’s funny, it doesn’t really require you to think a lot, and it’s just great fun shooting AI in the face and blowing things up. Even if you’re self-reportedly ‘bad at FPS’, there’s no expectations where Borderlands 2 is concerned. Just sorta aim and shoot, no doubt something will die and give you a shiny prize for it. Endorphines galore.

SPORE [ PC ] — disclaimer, Spore is great up to a certain point, and after that it becomes absolute garbage. Most people agree that the microbial and creature stages of Spore are absolutely fantastic and there’s some whacky fun to be had creating ridiculous-looking creatures and getting them to survive in the direction you’ve decided to take them. Generally, after the Creature Stage comes the Civilisation Stage, which is about the time I restart the game, which is a pity. The longest stage, which is the Space Stage, is arguably also the worst stage. But it’s cheap, and the first two stages are really just that iconic.

TWO POINT HOSPITAL [ PC / XBOX1 / PS4 / SWITCH ] — if you’re like me and you’ve been playing video games on PC for 25 years, surely you’ll remember a little game called Theme Hospital. The weirdest, most ridiculous hospital simulation game ever created. This is that, but from 2018, opposed to 1997. I’ve spent hours upon hours in Theme Hospital trying to save patients, make my layouts make sense, and keep people from littering everywhere, you heathens! In later levels, it can get pretty stressful, but particularly earlier levels, it’s just good ol’ fun.

THE SIMS 4 [ PC / XBOX1 / PS4 ] — speaking of the Sims, the franchise is obviously the most well-known ‘I know I’m in a depression hole because I played for the past 21 hours and I haven’t eaten yet and I probably won’t shower for the next 5 days’ game. Granted, I list the Sims 4, but any iteration of the Sims works for this purpose. Just motherlode and go, my friends. Cure the emptiness by creating a house you’ll never be able to afford. (Personally I use it to create my characters from toddler and making them meet and kiss their SOs, but you know.)

PLANET ZOO [ PC ] — I likened Jurassic World Evolution to Zoo Tycoon but with dinosaurs. Planet Zoo is Zoo Tycoon on steroids. That’s it. Planet Zoo is incredibly robust and in-depth, but the idea is simple: manage a zoo, help animals get off the endangered species list, and release them into the wild where you can while keeping visitors happy and keeping your park clean (why are visitors in sim games always such terrible raccoons)! Go creative mode and just create a zoo to your own wishes with no constraints and you’ll have a great mental health game.

PLANET COASTER [ PC / XBOX1 / PS4 ] — if Planet Zoo is Zoo Tycoon on steroids, then Planet Coaster is Rollercoaster Tycoon on steroids (which, in turn, was a more robust version of 1994′s Theme Park, from the same devs as Theme Hospital mentioned above). Like with Planet Zoo, you make a theme park, create rides that kill people and desperately try to hold back the tide of litter that’ll inevitably happen. But really, just go creative mode and make rollercoasters with so much G-force that it’ll kill everyone that rides them.

RAFT [ PC ] — a co-op game set in an Earth enveloped by oceans, you’re essentially a scout on a raft and that raft will become your home as you build onto it. You go from island to island to collect materials, seeds for food and trees, and discover the lore of the world. Your only enemy is hunger, thirst, and the ever-present shark that really only wants to hug you with its teeth. It’s a friend. Promise.

So do you have any games that you think should be on this list? Games that help you get through days where it’s just really hard to be a person? Feel free to add onto this post. Just make sure you let people know the name, the platforms its available on, the general gist of the game, and why it helps you through tough days.

Enjoy your good mental health days and good luck on your bad mental health days, everyone. 💛

[pers-books]

Letters to a Naturalist - Interlude 2

(It’s finally here. FINALLY! The first meeting between Professor Bernie Wolfe and Ms Serena Campbell. Hopefully it’s worth the wait. I will be resorting to letters from next week. But Bernie will have additional correspondents, if you know what I mean. *waggles eyebrows*)

Bernie and Jason have had a very enjoyable and educational weekend, with his field notebook now full of notes and sketches of flora and fauna local to Weston Wood. They had not only managed to see the badger family leaving its sett on Friday evening, but they’d also spotted a fox and its vixen, too. He had told Bernie that he’d enjoyed the actual camping more than he’d expected to and he had especially enjoyed learning how to cook on a camping stove.

They’ve just finished packing up their camping gear before heading back to her car, then Jason’s home, when he yelps in surprise or pain, she's not sure which, and when she turns to him to ask what's wrong, the question dies unspoken because Jason is audibly wheezing, and a red rash is springing up on his face and hands that Bernie’s horribly familiar with.

She grabs her rucksack and pulls out her First Aid kit, then reaches out to catch Jason as his limbs go floppy and he collapses unconscious in her arms. It's lucky that Bernie’s had enough experience at leading field trips to know exactly what to do when someone goes into Anaphylaxis. She lowers Jason to the ground, resting his head on her rucksack, then opens her First Aid kit and pulls out the adrenaline auto-injector pens, before giving Jason a dose. Then she takes out her phone and checks the time, knowing he might need a second dose in 5-10 minutes. Next she calls an ambulance and tells them what's happened, telling them that they will have to park in the National Trust car park.

The telephone operator takes the details and warns her that there's been a bad road traffic accident nearby and it may take the ambulance a little while to arrive.

“Okay, look, I'll bring Jason to the hospital. I can probably get through to Holby City General Hospital without getting caught in it.”

“I'm not sure that's very wise, madam,” says the operator.

“If he dies before the ambulance can get here, are you going to explain matters to his mother?” Bernie snaps, then apologises for being rude. “Look, I've dealt with people who've gone into Anaphylaxis before, sometimes while stuck many miles from medical assistance, so I do have some idea of what I'm doing. Can you please let Holby City know that we're coming in?”

“Yes, ma’am. What's the patient's name?”

“Jason Haynes and I'm Bernie Wolfe.”

The young woman gasps but doesn't seek to delay Bernie further. “I'll let them know,” she says.

“Thanks.” Bernie hangs up, then checks the time on her phone. She swiftly gathers up their gear, feeling grateful for the fact that she keeps fit, then she scoops up Jason and sets off across the Park towards the car park.

She's just settled Jason in the passenger seat of her car when she hears an ambulance siren approaching. She huffs out a breath, torn between amusement and relief, and wondering guiltily if giving the ambulance service telephone operator her name had anything to do with their fairly prompt arrival. Still, what matters is that the paramedics are here now.

The ambulance stops alongside her car when Bernie signals to them, and she quickly explains the situation to the young man who jumps out of the passenger seat. He and his colleague immediately begin assessing Jason, while Bernie hurriedly loads their camping gear and bags into the boot of her car.

“Well, you did the right thing, Professor,” says the curly-haired young man. “But it will be best if we keep him in for overnight observation, at least.”

“Of course,” Bernie says. “I will go and get his mother as she doesn't know anything about this yet.”

The young man nods. “No doubt we'll see you there, then. It's likely Jason will be sent to AAU once he's been seen in the ED.”

“Very well,” Bernie says. “Thanks.” The young man gives her a respectful nod, then helps his colleague to get Jason settled in the ambulance. As soon as they have Jason secured in the back, Bernie climbs into her car and prepares to go and break the news to his mother.

Bernie uses her handsfree to call Marjorie as she pulls out of the car park, assuming that the other woman is at home, but wanting to be sure before she arrives.

“Marjorie Haynes,” she says cheerfully as the call connects.

“Bernie Wolfe here,” she says. “Don't panic, Marjorie, Jason is going to be fine.”

“Going to be?” Marjorie says sharply, and Bernie can’t fault the other woman's quick wits.

“He's currently en route to Holby City General Hospital recovering from Anaphylaxis,” Bernie explains. “Did you know he's allergic to bee stings?”

“Obviously not, or we'd have told you. I'm not so careless of my son's wellbeing as that, thank you very much, Professor Wolfe.”

“I know that you're not careless of Jason,” Bernie says soothingly. “But I just wanted to check. It's likely that the hospital staff will ask as well.”

Marjorie sighs. “I'm sorry for biting your head off, Bernie,” she says. “It’s just, well, I've a lot on my mind right now.”

“Don't worry about it,” Bernie says reassuringly. “I'm coming to get you and I'll drive you back to the hospital. They were making noises about keeping Jason in overnight, just to be on the safe side. He's going to be on AAU.”

“What's that?” asks Marjorie worriedly.

“The Acute Assessment Unit. It's where patients who aren't seriously ill go. The seriously ill patients are in ITU, that's the Intensive Therapy Unit. So you can feel reassured that Jason's not too sick.”

“Why isn't he sicker than he is? I thought Anaphylaxis was really dangerous?”

“It is, if it's not treated promptly. I carry the necessary drugs to treat it in my First Aid kit and have done for years, ever since I started leading field expeditions.”

“Thank god he was with you when it happened,” Marjorie says in a heartfelt tone. “I wouldn’t have known what was happening.” She gives a little sob. “What if he'd been on his own?”

“Hey now,” Bernie says gently. “Don't worry about that. He wasn't, so he'll be okay soon enough. Why don't you sort out some things for him, pyjamas and so forth, and whatever else you think he'd want with him tonight, and I'll be with you shortly.”

“I'm sorry, Bernie.”

“No apologies needed,” Bernie assures her. “You're allowed to be upset, just try not to worry too much. Jason's in the best hands right now.”

Marjorie exhales audibly. “I know. Thank you, Bernie.”

“You're most welcome. See you soon.”

“Okay.”

Marjorie hangs up and Bernie breathes out hard, glad that Jason's mum isn't blaming her for what happened, particularly after the Tree Incident. She focuses her attention on getting safely to Jason and Marjorie's home.

Less than an hour after Jason was taken to the hospital, Bernie is there with Marjorie, and after a quick check at reception, they follow the signs to AAU.

Marjorie is anxious, which is only to be expected, but calmer than Bernie had been anticipating after their phone conversation.

A genial looking man in his early forties introduces himself as Fletch and welcomes them onto the ward, leading them towards a side room where Jason is resting.

“Serena, Ms Campbell that is, who’s the consultant in charge of the ward, felt he'd probably be happier in a side room, given his Asperger's,” Fletch explains.

“I think that you're right,” Marjorie says. “Thank you.”

“Will he have to stay in overnight?” asks Bernie.

“He will,” Fletch agrees. “But it's only as a precaution since this is the first time he's ever experienced Anaphylaxis.” He chuckles softly. “Once he woke up he was asking a lot of questions about the equipment and procedures.”

“He does that,” Marjorie says quickly. “It's his way of coping with difficult situations.”

“I think Ms Campbell, was a bit taken aback.”

“You weren't, though?” Bernie asks, seeing the twinkle in his eyes.

“Oh, I've got four children of my own and Evie, the eldest, wants to be a doctor, so I'm used to it, more or less. Anyway, Ms Campbell will be with you shortly, but she said I could take you to Jason's room as soon as you arrived.”

“Thank you,” Marjorie says.

“Thanks,” adds Bernie.

He leads them into a side room where Jason is sitting up in bed, looking bored until he spots his visitors.

“Mum!” he exclaims, and Marjorie rushes to his side, tears already beginning to spill down her cheeks.

Bernie decides to wait outside to give mother and son some privacy. She is lounging against the wall, her hands shoved deep into her pockets, as she people watches, when a brunette with sparkling brown eyes and a dimple in her chin comes along the corridor. She’s dressed in tailored black trousers and a flowing coral silk blouse, and Bernie immediately feels distinctly scruffy in her skinny jeans, vest, and red checked flannel shirt, with a quilted gilet over the top.

The brunette comes to a halt next to Bernie and holds out her hand. “Professor Wolfe? I’m Serena Campbell.”

“Hi,” Bernie says, wondering if she sounds as breathless as she feels at the sight of this gorgeous woman. “Bernie, please.”

“I understand young Mr Haynes owes his current state of health to your quick thinking,” Serena says, and Bernie knows she’s not imagining the admiration in the other woman’s eyes.

She shrugs. “I’ve led a lot of field trips over the last few years while teaching and there have been quite a few trips to record TV series, so it was mainly down to experience.”

“He’s still lucky, not only that you were with him, but that you had the necessary drugs on hand to treat him.”

“Well, I almost lost a camera person a few years ago because she had a bad reaction to a plant, out in the Amazon jungle. After that, I’ve made it a point to carry adrenaline autoinjector pens with me on any trip, not just the exotic ones.” She makes fingers quotes as she says ‘exotic’ and Serena smiles.

“You must have a very understanding GP,” she observes.

“I’m very lucky that I do,” Bernie says. “I’m even luckier than she’s a fan of my work and knows that I’m a very responsible person, so she agreed to prescribe the adrenaline pens for me, although I had to sign quite a few bits of paperwork to get permission both to carry them in my First Aid kit and to administer them, as necessary.”

Serena nods, then glances in through the door of the side room. “I had better go and talk to Jason and his mother. I’d like to talk to you further, though.”

Bernie feels herself flushing pink at this as she definitely wants to talk more with Serena. “Okay. I’ll be here since I’m Marjorie, Mrs Haynes’, ride home.”

Serena gives her a smile and a nod, then pushes open the door and goes inside, and Bernie resumes her slouch against the wall, although this time she pulls out her phone to check her emails while she waits. If she doesn’t do something to distract herself, she knows she’ll just get lost in very inappropriate thoughts about Ms Serena Campbell, with her curvaceous body, cute dimple, sexy smile, and sparkling eyes.

My god, Wolfe, calm down! she chides herself. She is absolutely not going to think about the fact that Serena seems firmly established in Holby, the city to which she’ll be moving in just a few months time, nor about the fact that the other woman isn’t wearing a wedding ring. For all she knows, Serena might choose not to wear her ring to work. Besides, she’s no way of knowing if Serena’s even interested in women; though her ‘gaydar’ has been pinging, she’ll admit that might just be the result of her lust overruling her common sense.

She forces herself to concentrate on reading her emails and on not thinking about the other woman, doing such a good job that she is startled when a hand is laid on her forearm. She looks up and finds Serena smiling at her.

“I admire your powers of concentration, Bernie,” she says. “Mrs Haynes and Jason were hoping you’d pop in and see him.”

“Oh, of course,” Bernie says, shoving her phone back into her jeans pocket. This elicits a raised eyebrow from Serena and Bernie gives her a questioning look.

“Forgive me, I’m just a little astonished you can fit your phone into your pocket when those jeans look painted on.”

Bernie can’t help laughing at this and although she claps her hand over her mouth, her ridiculous laugh still escapes, which makes Serena chuckle, and it takes Bernie a little while to calm down. “Nice line,” she teases Serena, who blushes beautifully. “Let me assure you that my jeans are not painted on. There’s more room in them than you’d think.”

Serena shakes her head, still blushing. “I’m glad to hear it.” She chuckles again, then says, “I still want to talk to you further.”

“I’d like that very much,” Bernie assures her, pushing a few strands of hair behind her ear. She’s fairly sure that Serena is interested in women, or at least is interested in her; there’s a spark between them that she’s felt with other women in the past and it’s never led her wrong before.

“Perhaps, when you’ve finished talking with Jason and his mother, we could grab a coffee together? There’s a garden that’s rather pleasant in good weather.”

“I’d be delighted,” Bernie says with a grin.

“Good. If you walk through to the nurses’ station –” Serena gestures along the corridor to the rest of the ward. “Then someone will find me, and we can grab a coffee from Pulses.”

“It’s a date,” Bernie says, with deliberate emphasis. Serena’s blush returns, although less forcefully this time.

“I’ll look forward to it.” She holds out her hand and Bernie takes it, then holds onto it far longer than is strictly necessary once they’ve shaken hands, gazing into Serena’s brown eyes where she sees that there’s definite interest in their sparkling depths.

Then Fletch appears at the far end of the corridor and calls Serena’s name, breaking the spell, so Bernie lets go of her hand and turns towards Jason’s room.

“Hello, Jason. How are you feeling?” she asks as soon as she’s through the door.

“Not very well,” he says. “But Mr Fletcher told me you saved my life. Thank you.”

Bernie ducks her head, but smiles. “You’re welcome. I’m just happy that I was there to intervene so quickly.”

“Ms Campbell said that Jason will need to see his doctor so that he can get a prescription for the adrenaline pens to carry with him,” observes Marjorie. “It does mean no more solo trips to Weston Wood, though, love.”

“Oh, but –” begins Jason, clearly hugely disappointed.

“I’m afraid your mum’s right, love,” Bernie says, briefly squeezing his ankle. “Your reaction to the bee sting was incredibly fast. If you had been on your own, you wouldn’t have had time to administer the dose yourself. You’ll have to find a study buddy.”

He frowns at her. “What’s that?”

“A study buddy is someone with whom you can do homework. In your case, though, it would be someone who shares your interest in nature, if not your desire to become a naturalist.”

Jason’s frown deepens. “Where would I find a study buddy?”

“Either at school or advertise locally if there’s no one at your school who would be interested in weekly trips to Weston Wood.” Bernie knows that Jason doesn’t really have any friends at his school since the other children are always too busy either mocking him or picking on him because of his neurodivergence. “I suggest that you and your mum set up a meeting with your form teacher to explain the situation and ask Mrs Raymond for assistance in finding someone suitable.” She swallows, then adds, “I haven’t told you yet – well, I was going to tell you over dinner – but I’ll be moving to Holby during the summer as I’ve taken a new job at Holby City University, so if you cannot find anyone suitable with whom to take your trips, I can accompany you once I’m in Holby full time.”

“You’re moving to Holby?” Marjorie asks, sounding surprisingly relieved.

“I am. I’ve already lined up a house to rent and I’ll be moving in on August 1st. While I will have to do some prep work ready to start my new job in mid-September, there’s no reason why I couldn’t spare Jason a few hours every Saturday morning to visit Weston Wood. Although, if Jason can find someone of his own age to go with, I think that would actually work out better.”

“I’ll talk to Mrs Raymond,” Marjorie promises.

“Okay.”

“You were talking to Ms Campbell for a long time,” Jason observes. “Are you well Professor Bernie?”

“Quite well, thank you, Jason. We were talking about what happened to you. And I was telling her about the fact that I had a camera person who nearly died from Anaphylaxis a few years ago when I was on a trip to film a TV series for the BBC. That’s why I was carrying the adrenaline pen in my First Aid kit. I’ve made a habit of carrying it ever since then.”

“I’m glad that you do,” Jason says solemnly.

“So am I, Jason,” Bernie says with great sincerity. “Now, I should leave you to rest, and I thought you might like to show your field notebook to your mum.”

“Yes, I would,” Jason says eagerly, then his face falls. “But I don’t know where it is.”

“It’s here,” Bernie says, taking it from the pocket of her gilet and handing it over. “I picked it up after you dropped it when you collapsed.”

“Oh good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She looks at Marjorie. “I’m going to go and get a coffee. Do you want anything?”

Marjorie shakes her head. “No, thank you, Bernie.”

“Okay. Well, when you’re ready to head home, send me a text and I’ll come and get you.”

“Oh, but you don’t have to take me home. I’m sure I can get a taxi.”

“Nonsense,” Bernie says firmly. “I’ll drive you back.” She gives Jason’s ankle a brief squeeze again. “I won’t leave without saying goodbye, I promise.”

“Thank you, Bernie.”

“You’re welcome, Jason.”

She smiles at them both, then lets herself out of Jason’s room and walks along the corridor to the main part of the ward where she finds Fletch at the nurses’ station. He directs her over to the consultant’s office where, he tells her, she’ll find Ms Campbell.

The woman in question is just putting the phone down when Bernie knocks lightly on the doorframe and her entire face lights up with obvious delight when she sets eyes on Bernie.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” she asks, practically purring the words.

Bernie feels herself blushing. “I don’t know about that,” she says. “After two days camping in Weston Wood I’m in dire need of a shower and a change of clothes.”

Serena quirks an eyebrow and the corners of her mouth, and Bernie’s blush deepens as she feels her insides turn molten at Serena’s response. “I think you look good enough to eat,” she says, her voice lower than before.

Bernie swallows. “You look better,” she says huskily. “That colour really suits you.”

“Thank you. Let’s go and find somewhere quieter to talk and have our coffee,” Serena suggests and Bernie nods quickly.

They make their way from AAU, Serena pausing for a moment to tell Fletch she is taking a break. He smirks, but Bernie sees Serena quell him with the raising of her eyebrow and is impressed. She thinks she’ll have to learn that trick herself.

They collect cups of coffee from Pulses, then Bernie follows Serena out into the hospital grounds, into what Serena tells her is the Peace Garden. They settle on the bench there and talk easily, as if they’ve been friends for years. They also flirt and Bernie’s pleased to discover that she hasn’t forgotten how, given how long its been since she’s been interested in another woman.

“Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow?” she asks as they get to their feet to head back into the hospital.

Serena smirks. “Why Professor, I thought you’d never ask.” Bernie can feel herself blushing and curses the flood of colour into her cheeks. “I’d love to have dinner with you. Do you have somewhere in mind?”

“Not really,” Bernie says. “My knowledge of Holby is out of date by several decades. I was going to suggest dinner at my hotel, but if you have somewhere else in mind, please let me know.”

“My, my, Professor, moving a little fast aren’t we?”

Bernie blinks, confused, then realises Serena’s meaning. “Oh, no,” she says quickly, blushing even harder. “I didn’t suggest my hotel because –”

“Shh.” Serena places a finger against her lips and Bernie has to forcibly restrain herself from taking it into her mouth. She thinks that something of that desire must show on her face, however, because Serena blushes this time before removing her finger. “I know of a lovely little Italian with a wonderful menu and an extensive wine list.”

Bernie grins. “Of course you do,” she says, having already established Serena’s love of Shiraz. “Why don’t we exchange numbers, then you can text me the address and I’ll meet you there. Say seven o’clock?”

“Seven o’clock sounds good,” Serena says.

They swap phones and enter their own numbers in each other’s phones, then head back towards the hospital building.

“You really care about young Jason, don’t you?” Serena asks as they walk.

“I do. He’s a lovely young man with a great deal of potential.”

“I thought, at first, that you and his mum were together.”

“Oh. Gosh, no. I don’t know Marjorie’s preferences, but I doubt they include me. I hope that she and I are becoming friends, though.”

Serena nods, then halts just before they leave the garden; when Bernie stops and gives her a quizzical look, she smiles, then clasps Bernie’s shoulder before leaning in slowly enough that Bernie can refuse to be kissed if she wants to. Instead, she turns further towards Serena and wraps her arms around her, drawing her in close, then she presses her lips to Serena’s and kisses her very thoroughly, revelling in the gasp of surprise the other woman utters.

When they finally have to pull apart in order to catch their breath, Bernie’s unable to prevent herself from smirking at Serena.

“Consider that a down payment,” she says. “Not necessarily for tomorrow, but for some point in the future.”

“You’re very sure of yourself, Professor,” Serena says, but she doesn’t sound annoyed by Bernie’s certainty.

“Serena, you’ve been flirting with me like it’s going out of fashion. Of course I’m sure of myself.” She chuckles, then asks, “Shall we?”

Serena nods and they make their way back to AAU, parting company outside the door to Jason’s room. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Serena says.

“I’ll be there, Ms Campbell. Ready and waiting.”

To Bernie’s delight, Serena blushes, then heads off along the corridor, and Bernie can’t help watching her, particularly the sway of her hips as she walks away. Then she glances through the window in the door of Jason’s room and sees that Marjorie appears to be saying goodbye to him, so she steps inside to offer her own farewell and a promise that she’ll drive him back home tomorrow once he’s been discharged from the hospital.

As she and Marjorie make their way out to Bernie’s car, she can’t help feeling incredibly pleased with most of the results of this trip to Holby, Jason’s Anaphylaxis not withstanding.

Bernie feels quite certain she’s going to have delicious dreams tonight.

[delicioussshame]

Fuck it, have some wips I’ve been trying to get back to but alas, it’s not going well.

________________________________

“Shizun… It’s Shizun, isn’t it?”

Shen Qingqiu turns towards Luo Binghe, for who else could it be? “Yes.”

Luo Binghe, is, obviously, still as devastatingly handsome as he ever was. He didn’t lose anything by switching from the traditional style to more modern fashion. Maybe, Shen Qingqiu despairs, he even gained from it. Those jeans are literally stopping traffic.

He might miss his long locks though. Short hair suits him, but it wouldn’t feel the same under his fingers.

Shen Qingqiu shakes himself back to reality. The feeling of Luo Binghe’s hair under doesn’t have anything to do with him anymore.  “Binghe seems like he did well for himself.” He has no doubt on the matter. Managing their wealth through time was a challenge, but nothing an array of trusts, shell corporations, insider knowledge and skilled lawyers couldn’t arrange. Shen Qingqiu has been living lavishly for decades. He’s sure Binghe did the same.

“So does Shizun.”

The appellation brings a smile to his lips. It’s so ridiculous. Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe had spent centuries together. In comparison, the time Shen Qingqiu taught Luo Binghe was infinitesimal. The title is meaningless.

Luo Binghe used to say that Shen Qingqiu taught him something new every day. That they could spend eternity together and he’d never learn enough from him.

That was long ago now.

“This must be similar to the era Shizun came from, isn’t it?”

“Pretty much.” It’s not quite the same. Some events went differently, some didn’t, but daily life is almost indistinguishable

Investing in Tencent still proved profitable though.

Luo Binghe is wavering, obviously wondering if he’ll dare to say whatever he’s thinking of saying.  

It’s probably not a good idea. “Well, it was nice seeing you. I’m sure you have things to do.” Shen Yuan departs.

Or tries to. He’s hindered by Luo Binghe’s grasp on his arm. “Binghe. Let go.”

Shen Qingqiu almost stumbles from the shock of seeing Luo Binghe’s eyes swell with tears for the first time in forever. His heart squeezes like Binghe was still his young and eager husband, crumbling under the slightest disapproval. Without his consent, his hand reaches up and wipes those tears away gently, the gesture so familiar it hurt. “A-Yuan, please, don’t go! Give this disciple a day, no, an evening to catch up! I will take him to the best restaurant, pay for the grandest hotel, whatever he wants, as long as he spares me a fraction of his time.”

Shen Qingqiu knows better. He can’t falter here. He can’t let Luo Binghe charm him into a nice dinner where alcohol flows until, both of them tipsy, they fall into bed again and Shen Qingqiu finds himself spending another decade in Luo Binghe’s embrace.

________________________________

Shen Qingqiu pokes the collar half-heartedly.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with it. The leather is of the finest quality, soft and supple under his touch. Shen Qingqiu is pretty sure he could wear it all day without feeling sore or constricted. It’s white too, so between his skin and his robe, it wouldn’t even clash. It would almost be unnoticeable, really.

By all means, it should be black; Luo’s Binghe color. The point, after all, was to claim what was his. A subtle color was an allowance most weren’t afforded.

Then again, most submissives don’t spend their lives pretending they’re not.

He knows the original Shen Qingqiu didn’t manage to fool them all. Yue Qingyuan must know, and he’s pretty sure Mu Qingfang wasn’t fooled either.

Luo Binghe told him he always knew. That he could always feel something different from his shizun.

It’s not that surprising. Luo Binghe had been written as the ultimate dominant, bending every lady to his will with a word. Even if the version of him Shen Qingqiu had grown familiar with was a lot more masochistic than he had any right to be, he still had an intrinsic knowledge of what made everyone tick, the way the best dominants did.

Maybe that’s why he kept things simple. They both had to figure it out to begin with. More formal scenes could wait. Or, you know, just not happen. Shen Qingqiu is pretty sure that way would have been easier to handle.

________________________________

Mu Qingfang must really care for Liu Qingge’s wellbeing.

It’s the only reason Shen Yuan can think of for his presence every time Liu Qingge shows up for treatment, which is often. Shizun doesn’t shadow him when he’s with other patients. He can take care of most casual wounds and infections thrown his way with ease. The light cut on Liu Qingge’s arm barely merits treatment, to be honest. Not that Shen Yuan is going to tell Liu Qingge of all people that. He’s going to clean the wound, bandage it and send him on his merry way without a word about wasting the time of one of Mu Qingfang’s most senior disciples.

“Here, all done. Liu-shibo should be completely healed before tomorrow.” His cultivation would have taken care of it anyway.

Liu Qingge nods.

“Shen Yuan has other tasks to see to. If Liu-shixiong feels better, he should return to his peak. I’m sure his students missed him.”

Liu Qingge frowns at Mu Qingfang. “They don’t. They’re busy with their training.”

“Then Shixiong should go help them.”

Liu Qingge glares at Mu Qingfang, to Shen Yuan’s bafflement. Maybe they really don’t get along because Mu Qingfang doesn’t trust Liu Qingge not to create trouble everywhere he goes?

Liu Qingge stops glaring at Mu Qingfang and turns to Shen Yuan. “I’ll be back.”

Shen Yuan cringes interiorly. “Liu-shibo should take care of himself better instead of counting on this disciple’s meagre skills.” Please, Liu Qingge, what’s the point of having saved your life if you keep hurting yourself? You’ll be dead again before Luo Binghe turns evil!

Well, he won’t if Shen Yuan has a say about it, but let’s just admit he’s not very confident in his chances.

“Your skills are fine.”

Shen Yuan blinks. “…Thank you.” At least he’s being appreciated?

Mu Qingfang sighs as Liu Qingge departs. “Liu-shixiong isn’t a bad man, but he sometimes doesn’t know how to interact with people correctly.”

“Liu-shibo has never been improper with me.” He can be rude and demanding, but nothing Shen Yuan can’t handle. He’s dealt with disciples wounded in both body and pride that were much more of a handful.

Mu Qingfang stares at him. “Are you certain?”

Shen Yuan is confused. “Yes?”

Mu Qingfang… pats his head? What? Mu Qingfang isn’t known to be very physically demonstrative. “Good. You have a tendency to attract trouble, so I was worried.”

Excuse you, Shen Yuan does not “attract trouble”. Shen Yuan takes order from the System sometimes, that’s different. It’s not his fault he gets caught into weird plot lines all the time!

And why did he got retconned onto Qian Cao Peak anyway? What can he do on Qian Cao that he couldn’t on Qing Jing with the protagonist? Wouldn’t that make more sense?

At least Mu Qingfang is nice enough. “I’m sorry if I cause Shizun problems. I will strive to do better.” Not that he knows how to. He didn’t know anything about traditional medicine when he came here, and he still has to restrain himself when something particularly unscientific comes up. He’s been doing his best to fit in for years, since his very weird transmigration into an original character.

“I know you will. Go back to your duties now.”

Shen Yuan salutes his shizun and returns to work. Injuries in a sect of their magnitude are frequent. Shen Yuan is busy.

____________

“Shen-shidi!”

Shen Yuan smiles at his young shixiong, the protagonist himself, one Luo Binghe. He can’t help it. He’s cute! Shen Yuan can almost see his tail wagging! “Hello, Luo-shixiong.”

“Does Shidi have some time to teach me?”

Shen Yuan cannot say no to those puppy eyes. “Of course. Please come here.” He doesn’t. He’ll have to work late tonight to make up for the time he spends on teaching Luo Binghe.

It’s worth it. Everything he can do to help Luo Binghe is one more step of the “Save the sect from annihilation at the hands of the darkened protagonist” quest.

“Is Luo-shixiong doing well today?”

Luo Binghe shakes his head shyly.

Shen Yuan pushes the subject aside. They both know what Shen Yuan really asked: did Luo Binghe get bullied by his fellow disciples or his teacher today, and does he need Shen Yuan to look over it?

This is how they first met. Shen Yuan saw a young boy with a bruised face and favouring his right side, and instantly offered to help him. The boy tried to say no, but Shen Yuan is Mu Qingfang’s disciple. He has been taught that it is his duty to help those in need.

He had instantly recognised the wounds as the result of a fight, not training. As the healers of the sect, Qian Cao Peak disciples were expected to remain neutral in the context of peak rivalries. He couldn’t protect the young disciple himself, not without compromising his position. All he could do was offer his services.

“My name is Shen Yuan. If you ever need care again, please ask for me at Qian Cao Peak. Can I ask what your name is?”

“My name is Luo Binghe, of Qing Jing Peak.”

It had taken all of Shen Yuan’s strength of will not to gape at this admission. He knew Luo Binghe had arrived at the sect, but he had never thought they would meet like this, and that he would unwillingly create a link between them! Go him!

It had worked too! Two weeks later, Shen Yuan had been pulled from his normal studies by a worried shidi of his, who took him to a Luo Binghe with a sprained wrist, a broken finger and a black eye. Shen Yuan had instantly started to work on it, sending his qi through Luo Binghe as best he could while tending to his wounds.

Luo Binghe had thanked him from his help with a troubling wide-eyed awe that made Shen Yuan want to keep him in his room and feed him nice things. He restated his original offer to help Luo Binghe whenever he needed, which ended up being way more often than even Shen Yuan, who had never liked Shen Qingqiu to say the least, thought decent.

“Does Shidi think he could teach me? This way I wouldn’t be such a burden to him. If only my cultivation was better…”

Shen Yuan’s heart broke. Don’t worry, you’ll be the best cultivator some day! “I’d be happy to help.”

Luo Binghe had lighted up like the sun piercing through the clouds.

(Shen Yuan’s determination to save the sect from Luo Binghe might have switched to saving Luo Binghe from himself.)

Luo Binghe has been showing up regularly since then, soaking up all of Shen Yuan’s knowledge at frankly frightening speed. Hopefully it will be useful to him when he’s alone in the Abyss.

If he took the opportunity to correct a few of his cultivation bases, it’s not like Shen Qingqiu would ever find out.

________________________________ 

Luo Binghe still holds the favor the prince consort bestowed upon him close to his chest at all times.

Even if all the court knew the prince consort could defend his honor himself, it would have been improper. Of course it fell on his knights to defend Shen Qingqiu while the King Yue Qingyuan was away.

Luo Binghe had intended to return the token as soon as he had unseated the misbeliever from his horse, but blinded by Shen Qingqiu’s smile, his hand felt down still wrapped around the embroidered handkerchief.

He needs to return it before its disappearance is noticed. If someone doubted Shen Qingqiu’s loyalty because of his failings, he would seek penance until his death found him.

“The prince consort has allowed you entrance.”

(…)

Zheng Yang lies between them, the symbol of the vow Luo Binghe intends to respect.

Shen Qingqiu is completely still on the other side of the bed, white night clothes covering his whole body.

Luo Binghe prays for the salvation of his damned soul. He cannot betray the king’s trust by befouling his beloved.

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Sunshine

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x OC (Evelyn “Evie” Blaker)

Warnings: None

A/N: I have to admit I’m really struggling with this story.  I don’t know if my brain is finally coming to the end of this writing jag its been on for the last month and a half, but I’m determined to see it through and get it posted.  So we’ll see what the next couple of weeks bring.

Reminder:  I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tags:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars​ , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale  

[PART 1] 

Part 2 

Then Move on to Dinner

As Evie disembarked from the train, she felt as if she had been taken through a ringer and thought that she probably looked it.  Such an auspicious start to her date with Maxwell Lord of all people.  But she was here and as she stepped further into Grand Central Station, she looked around for Maxwell’s driver.  When she spotted the man holding a sign with her name on it, she smiled while adjusting her small bag on her shoulder, walking over to meet him.  Her look of apology was all over her face and he could clearly see it.

“Are you Bennett?”

“I am, you must be Miss Evie.  Mr. Lord said you’d be easy to spot in the crowd.”  She laughed and he smiled at her.  They shook hands and he began to guide her out of the station, dodging the mass of people exiting the city for home after a long workday.  

“I am so sorry, Bennett, there was a delay coming out of Poughkeepsie. I know you had to have been waiting a while.”

“Naw, it’s all good.  But the traffic is a little heavy today, so let’s get going.  I know Mr. Lord is already at the restaurant.”  Evie had the rare knack for making friends with everyone she met, and Bennett was no exception.  As they walked to the car, they chatted like old friends.  They stepped out into the warm evening and Bennett pointed to the car.

As she climbed in, she continued to ask questions about the man’s family, how long he had been working for Maxwell, and when Bennett admitted he was an artist, she began to prod him about that, too.  All the while, she was in the back transforming herself from seemingly mild-manner accountant to date worthy.

She didn’t have an opportunity to get ready on the train coming into the city as she had hoped, so Evie took a chance to update her make-up for the evening and twisted her hair into a sleek up-do.  When she needed to change clothes, she asked Bennett if he could just briefly turn the mirror.  He smiled and told her that there was a partition.  He raised it and she slipped out of her sweater and slacks and into a deep gold cocktail dress.  The crepe satin had metallic thread woven through it and it sparkled in the light. When she knocked on the partition, Bennett whistled when he saw her emerge as it lowered.

“Miss Evie, I’m pretty sure Mr. Lord will have a hard time keeping his eyes off you.”  

“Yeah, well, I suppose that’s the goal of any date night, right?”  She grunted as she moved to put on a pair of nude flats.  As she put on her jewelry, Bennett kept talking.

“For sure, my Bette, that first night we met, I knew I was going to marry her.  I couldn’t keep my eyes off her.  She wore this pink dress that just. . . .  Well, let’s just say it was a good night!”

They both laughed and soon Bennett was pulling up to the restaurant. She cleaned up her mess and stowed her bag under the seat before getting out, wrapping her green silk shawl around her shoulders.  The sudden sounds of the city caused her to pause a moment before she rushed up the stairs and into the restaurant.  She smiled at the hostess, who immediately took her to a private room upon hearing her name.

As she stepped into the room, Maxwell looked up, relief washing over him at the sight of her.  He had been worried that she wasn’t going to come given how late she was.  A small part of him wondered if Saturday night’s little adventure and promise wasn’t something his muddled brain hadn’t just made up.  Seeing her in person again washed away all those uncharacteristic doubts that had been swirling around for the last hour.

“Maxwell, I am so, so, so sorry I am late.  I’ve kept you waiting and I’m sure you’re hungry.  I should have called you, but I didn’t realize how bad the delay was and then the traffic was bad. . .”  She rambled on in her apology as he stood up to greet her, not even noticing the feral look in his eye.  He took her hand and when he spoke her name, she looked up.

“Evie.”  His tone was even but carried authority and it was often one his own staff heard from him. It easily broke through her worrying thoughts, bringing her back to him.  “It’s fine. Things happen.  What matters is that you’re here.  Give yourself a second to breathe.  We have all night.”  

She heaved a sigh of relief and for the first time since she walked into the room, she smiled at him.  He smiled back and dropped his hand to her lower back to guide her to their table. He signaled the young man waiting at the door and he left to get their waiter.  He pulled out her chair and as she sat down, he caught a whiff of her shampoo – just as soft and warm as he remembered, and he felt his cock stir a little.  

If Maxwell Lord weren’t already captivated by Evie Blaker, then tonight he would have been.  When she walked in, wearing that golden dress, he felt as if the room brightened considerably and it was all he could do to talk to her.  He was mesmerized by her everyday beauty, but she was a radiant sun goddess now.  He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her until she was panting for him, until she begged him to fuck her on the table, dinner be damned.  Instead, he willed himself to calm down and for his erection to stop growing.

“Just a ginger ale and water please, Alonzo.  And I’m sorry, wait.  Maxwell, did you want another drink?”  He straightened up at the sound of his name from her voice and simply nodded.  The waiter bowed his head to fill their drink orders and the two fell into silence as they looked at the menu.  He already knew what he wanted but waited patiently for her to decide.

“How did you know his name was Alonzo?”  He asked.

“I asked him?”  If she weren’t so kind, he would have guessed her questioning look was akin to something like, are you stupid?  He never blushed, but he could feel heat rising in his neck in embarrassment.  He cleared his throat to rid himself of this foreign sensation.

“You asked him.”

“Yes, and the young man over there is Zachary.  And the hostess is named Melanie.”  She smiled at the boy and he shyly smiled back before looking away. She looked back at Maxwell, whose mouth was slightly hanging open.  He looked down at the menu before looking up.  He saw her eyes sparkle with amusement.  She had the courtesy not to giggle out loud at least.

“Oh.”

“You don’t really talk with the people around you, do you?”  He thought about it and really, unless he had something to say to them, no he didn’t.  And when he did, he was prone to speaking at them rather than with them.  Before he could say anything, Alonzo returned with their drinks and to take their order, before whisking away the menus and signaling Zachary to follow him.  The two were left alone.

---***---

His dinner with Evie was one of the most enjoyable nights Maxwell had had in some time.  He found himself more open than he usually is on a date and he was certain her natural friendliness was the reason.  Something about her made him answer her questions truthfully and to share even when not prompted.  Their conversation was non-stop, even after the food came, and they seemed pressed to learn as much about each other as possible – as if both were worried this was a dream that would disappear.

While most people knew that Maxwell’s father committed suicide, he revealed how his mother died a much slower death.  He talked about how that shaped him and his real feelings about Chimtech.  He felt pride in the company’s success under his leadership, but knowing it was also the ultimate cause of his parent’s deaths made him feel a little resentful towards it.

They laughed together over his antics in college or at least the ones he was willing to share. And he shared tales of travel and the time he got lost in Prague that led him to the most beautiful church he had ever seen.  As he shared, he became more and more relaxed.  And Maxwell relaxed was a sight to behold for Evie – she was certain she was witnessing something special.

On her part, Evie loved to tell stories and she reached out to Maxwell when he talked about his father’s death because she too had lost a parent.  She talked about how her mother’s sudden death in an accident caused by a drunk drive lead her to never want to drink.  But she was close her to pharmacist father, who loved and was devoted his only child.  And how he was supportive when she took a risk and went all the way to Notre Dame for college.

She also regaled him with stories from her childhood antics with her cousin and best friend, Maribel.  He never laughed as hard as when Evie described how the two of them destroyed a pier and Maribel’s brother’s boat trying to recreate the Lancelot and Elaine scene from Anne of Green Gables.  They thought they could do it better and she admitted they clearly didn’t.

“Well, to your credit, you did recreate the scene from the book pretty faithfully.”  Maxwell laughed.  She laughed too.

“That is true, although I don’t think Brad has forgiven us over the loss of his boat.”  They sat back in their chairs, with little chuckles permeating the small room.  She sighed as she took a sip of her drink and Maxwell watched her, a small smile on his face.  He was more content and relaxed than he had been in a long time. Her sitting across from him felt so natural and a small part of him thought that he could get used to this.

“Would you like dessert?”  He asked and she nodded.  She wasn’t about to pass up the chance for dessert in a four-star restaurant in New York. After perusing the menu, Maxwell decided on a berry tart and she went for a caramel cake.  They continued their conversation through dessert and as it wound down, Maxwell texted Bennett to bring the car around.

“I’m sorry, Maxwell, can I order a dessert to go?”  She looked at him shyly, not wanting to seem greedy. He smiled with a hint of confusion but nodded as he finished his wine.  After she placed the order, she excused herself to go to the restroom. He sat back and realized they had been sitting for hours but it seemed so much shorter than that. The warmth that haunted his dreams had enveloped him all evening and he was hesitant to let her go just yet.

When she returned, she noticed the box on the table and smiled.  Maxwell smiled back and stood up to meet her. She picked up her things as he held out his hand and she slipped hers into his grasp.  He lightly squeezed as they left the restaurant.  Evie thought that holding his hand seemed to be the most natural thing in the world, as if his hand were made to hold hers perfectly.

Evie bid good-bye to Zachary, Alonzo, and then Melanie as they exited the building before giving Bennett a large smile when they stepped outside.  He returned it and the couple slid into the car, with the door closing behind them.  When he got back in the car, Evie stopped him.

“Here Bennett - this is for you and Bette.”  She handed him the box and he looked stunned.

“For us?”

“Yes, it’s a caramel cake, you said that it was yours and Bette’s favorite dessert, right?”

“Yeah!  You remembered?!”

“Of course!  I had this for dessert, and you will both love it.  It’s divine!”  She patted his hand and he looked so happy that she not only remembered but cared enough to bring him something.  She sat back, putting on her seatbelt.  He set the cake down carefully so he could take it home before turning to Maxwell and asking where their next stop was.

“Give me a minute, Bennett.”  The driver nodded and waited.

“Stay with me tonight.”  His low voice didn’t demand, but it was firm, and he was glad it hid the desperation he was feeling.  He wanted her to come home with him.  But she no more wanted the evening to end than he did, and Evie simply nodded, and a smile bloomed on his lips.  Finally, the sensations that haunted his sleep wouldn’t leave him at dawn’s first light.

“Home, Bennett.”  The driver nodded and he pulled away from the curb to begin the trek across the city. As they sat there, Evie reached over to grab Maxwell’s hand and lace her fingers through his.  He tightened his hand, as if to keep her from floating away from him.

“How did you know about cake?”  He asked suddenly, but quietly and she turned to look at him with a confused look on her face.

“Because we talked earlier on the way in?”  It was a question-comment.

“You talked about cake?”

“Among other things.”  She looked at him closer.  “You didn’t know Bennett was married, did you?”

He slightly shook his head no and she nodded in response.  Bennett had been his driver for six years and until tonight, Maxwell didn’t know anything about the man.  Evie squeezed his hand and looked out to the window to enjoy New York City in the evening.  The two lapsed into their own silences for the remainder of the trip.

---***---

She expected Bennett to pull up to a large apartment building, thinking Maxwell lived in a penthouse.  Instead, he pulled down a tree-lined street with large houses on either side. Bennett stopped in front of a three-story brownstone that exuded charm and warmth.  She could see in the flower beds daisies, asters, and lilies interspersed with small ornamental trees.  She was almost shocked at how homey and welcoming the property looked.  

The car stopped and Evie withdrew her hand to grab her bag from under the seat.  Bennett opened the door and Evie stepped out while Maxwell opened his own door and stretched his long legs as he walked around the back of the car.  Evie was already into another conversation with his driver as he came up to them.

“You say hello to Bette for me and you’ll let me know what she thinks of the cake, won’t you?”

“Absolutely Miss Evie!  You have a good evening with Mr. Lord.”

“Good-bye Bennett!”  She gave him a small wave as Maxwell guided her up the steps.  As they entered the house, again Evie found herself surrounded by a cozy and charming space.  She stopped and looked around her, noting textures like dark wood and soft fabrics.  It was clearly the home of a man and yet it felt homey and well lived in.  

Instead of modern art, she noted classical style paintings and landscape photography hanging on the walls.  She sucked in a breath at the beautiful stain glass that hung in the windows and she thought that the place was probably heavenly when the sun shone through them in the late afternoons.

“Not what you expected, I bet?”  Maxwell watched her as she took in his home.  His tone was playful, and she laughed.

“No.  I expected a penthouse with a harsh modern look that was more like a magazine set than a real home.  This is beautiful, Maxwell.”

“I detest modern furniture.  It’s lifeless and cold.  Give me a leather couch any day.”  She supposed it made sense, he was a fashionable man, but he also came from money. He probably grew up in a similar house, where the traditional trappings of wealth surrounded him.  She decided it suited him much more than anything she had imagined.

Evie didn’t move from her spot in the foyer, not sure what would happen if she stepped further into his home.  For the first time since all this began, she felt apprehensive.  Meeting in an office or restaurant is one thing, that could be considered more neutral meeting grounds.  But here?  She was on his turf and was keenly aware he had an advantage.

It seemed as if Maxwell could sense her hesitation and he stepped up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders.  He could feel tension there and he wanted to wipe it away, so he bent his head down and kiss her underneath her ear.  She inhaled sharply at the sensation and her fingers gripped the handles of her bag.  When he kissed the spot again, her eyes fluttered shut.  They both knew what was going to happen next and they both wanted it. Saturday may have been the appetizer, but tonight was the dessert.

[mercyxkilling]

✉

drabble meme

@brassbounded : ✉: based around the last text I sent/received

mercy spent her life learning all there was to know about herself through another person’s interpretations. therapists had tried to help her hone in on why she was so self-destructive, so vain, so... unhappy. maybe it had something to do with losing her father. maybe it had something to do with knowing her father had been shot in the street during a routine traffic stop and his killer was still walking free. maybe it had something to do with growing up around crime and poverty and watching good people do bad things just to get by and feed their kids. maybe it had something to do with buying neighborhood kids dinner when their mom was too fucked up and laying on the bathroom floor with a needle in her arm.

there were a few things that had made her trade her softness for edges, really. she just needed to pick one. she needed someone, something to blame for all the things she hated about herself so she didn’t have to take responsibility for anything. at least that was what one therapist told her. she’d become remarkably self aware because of all those people telling her things about herself. and a lifetime of hard living was hard to change, so she kept on being selfish and awful and destroying her chances of ever truly having happiness.

she knew this.

most people who got to know her eventually came to know this, too.

it was why she wondered how anyone could still remain, even knowing this. how could anyone accept her? love her? care for her?

the woman stared at her phone and read and reread the text that she’d received hours ago.

hey, are you still awake? i’m just checking on you babe. i’ve been worried.

mercy had shut herself in her apartment, swallowing a cocktail of alcohol and pills all the while taking massive bong rip after bong rip, deciding that being sober was for nerds and she didn’t need anyone that night. she didn’t need to talk about why she felt so angry or sad or how much she actually hated herself and felt like she deserved nothing good yet still carried herself in front of others like she was some kind of goddess and everyone should be grateful she was gracing them with her presence. she didn’t need to talk about how she spent her money on expensive things as if they could somehow fill the void of constant pain and loneliness.

and yet...

somehow. somehow. her friend knew that mercy might have needed help. despite her bossiness, despite the fact that mercy shoved everyone away once they got too close, this friend still cared enough to check in on her, and even knew that maybe things were bad enough that mercy just needed someone to reach out and remind her that they cared.

the phone’s screen went black as she debated on answering that text. did she lie and say everything was okay? she really didn’t like being dishonest with people. in fact, she tried to tell herself that she was somewhat of a decent person because she didn’t lie to people. but she also wasn’t sure if she could handle being such a mess like this in front of anyone, either.

so what to do...?

she laid her thumb down on the home button and unlocked her phone, opened the message app, and started to type out a message.

don’t worry about me. i’ll be okay.

that much was true. no matter what happened, with time, she’d eventually learn to be okay. but that didn’t mean she was okay right now.

after a moment, another text came through, as if her friend had been sitting by the phone patiently waiting for mercy to respond, even though hours had passed since the first message had been sent.

i'll be there in ten minutes.

her friend must have known mercy better than she could ever know herself. because she really had needed a friend tonight. she just didn’t really know how to say it.

she might not have had many friends, but she was grateful for the ones that stuck it out through all her bullshit. 

[its-flicked-switch]

Transitive Property of Equality

All of the moments leading up to the COTP, candlelight confessions, and the revelation of miracle baby #2. This work remains canon with the events of S11, filling in the gaps of Mulder and Scully’s relationship and their leap of faith forward for the future. 

SMUT to be found in all the places you would expect.

Rating: Explicit

This story is my baby.

I initially drafted this work to be 10 chapters - one for each of the S11 episodes, but that quickly expanded into 20 chapters. With that being said, posting the full length of this work on Tumblr seems ... excessive, so I’ve made the decision to just post the first chapter and link the rest. In the future, I will post my longer works here just as I publish them on AO3 and ff.net, but with my Tumblr account being new, posting 60k+ all at once would be madness. Should you read this first chapter and be interested in reading the rest, it’s linked here. 

 CH 1: THE PLACE WE CALLED HOME

Post 11x01 - My Struggle III

Mulder takes Scully home.

SCULLY

It's true what they say about doctors being the worst patients, but to be fair, my medical history is extensive and complex. Providing a full and accurate medical history would take hours and most likely result in a psych consult, so I've learned to only ever disclose what is absolutely necessary. Being a neurologist myself, I can appreciate my doctor's concern, but she doesn't have all the of the facts and wouldn't know what to do with them even if I gave them to her. So for the second time today, I sign myself out of the hospital against medical advice.

After reviewing my MRIs, there is little doubt in my mind that the impulses driving my abnormal brain activity were somehow generated by my implant. The dull ache and burning sensation that coursed through the base of my skull and down into my neck just before losing consciousness doesn't fit the etiology of any known medically based seizure.

Eighteen hours later my neck still aches, but for an entirely different reason. One that may or may not be related to the visions I have received from Willam.

The man who entered my hospital room earlier this evening is someone that Mulder recognized as working for the syndicate, but our sources within the FBI have yet to formally identify him. All of this should frighten me more than it does, but at the moment, all I care about is getting out of here and going home to sleep in my own bed.

By the time Mulder and I leave the hospital, it's close to midnight. He hasn't let me out of his sight since he returned from Spartanburg. Under normal circumstances, I would find his zealously overprotective behavior to be suffocating and would insist that he give me space, but tonight I don't have the energy to fight him nor do I think that it would matter even if I did.

The force of my assassin's hands has left me stiff, sore, and hoarse, limiting my responses to brief and very brief. So when he asks me if I'm hungry, I merely nod, settling into the passenger seat and resting my eyes as he merges into traffic.

—

I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have because when I come to we are pulling up to the house.

"Mulder," I croak, "I thought you were going to take me home?"

As soon as I say it, I regret it. Although I haven't lived here in close to four years, the house is still technically mine. I tried to sign it over to him after we separated, but he refused to sign the papers.

"This will always be your home too, Scully," he says softly, not meeting my eyes.

I didn't mean for it come across as a dig, but it clearly has.

Great. As if today wasn't shitty enough.

"I'm sorry Mulder, I didn't mean … I'm just exhausted, and I don't have any clothes here."

"I stopped by the impound lot and cleaned out your car, so I have your keys and overnight bag. They're in the trunk."

I clearly slept through that pit stop.

"Oh … okay … thank you," is all I can manage to say.

"It wasn't a big deal. Common. Let's get inside. I think there might even be something that's eatable in the fridge," he says placing his hand on my thigh and giving it a light squeeze before exiting the car.

We climb the porch stairs together in silence. Once inside, he places my overnight bag at the bottom of the stairs and then makes his way into the kitchen.

"I'm going to start some tea. That should help soothe your throat."

"Mulder, you really don't have to—"

But he cuts me off before I can finish, raising his voice.

"Stop thanking me and telling me that I don't have to take care of you. If I hadn't come in when I did, that man would have killed you … you do realize that right?"

The look on his face stops me cold.

"Do you have any idea what that would have done to me?"

Grabbing the top of the one the kitchen chairs, he shifts his weight and looks down at the table in an attempt to calm himself. At first, I say nothing. Mulder is one of the most controlled people I have ever known. Even with everything we've been through in the last 25 years, I can still count on one hand how many times he has raised his voice at me in anger.

But anger isn't what I see now. What I see now is pure, unadulterated fear.

"I'm sorry Scully, I didn't mean to … I just—"

"It's okay," I say, interrupting him. "I buried you once — so yes, I have an idea." It comes out low and raspy, strained by events of the last 24 hours, but it silences him nonetheless.

As my words register, his eyes return to mine, and the fire in them dissipates.

Loss is something that we are both intimately familiar with.

Sighing, he releases his hold on the kitchen chair.

"I know you can take care of yourself, Scully. You've always been able to do that, but we still don't know for sure who sent him or why. Until we know, more I don't want you staying alone. If something happened you … something that I could have prevented … I would never forgive myself."

I don't know how to respond, so I don't.

"Are you sure you're not hungry?" he asks softly. "I have some yogurt in the fridge if you just want something light."

"No, but I will take some tea."

He nods and turns to turn on the stove, filling up the kettle and placing it over the burner.

"Why don't you head upstairs and take a shower. I'll come up in a minute with your tea and change the sheets."

"I'm sure they are fine."

"I haven't washed them in a while. I usually just sleep on the couch."

His tone is soft but final, and his message is clear. He's going to take care of me, and I'm going to let him because he's not taking 'no' for an answer.

—

Mulder wasn't kidding. The bed is made and looks as if it hasn't been used in months, but other than that, the room we once shared has changed very little in my absence.

My eyes are immediately drawn to a picture he has framed and prominently displayed on what was my bedside table. It's a picture of the two of us that I have never seen before. As I take a closer look, I recognize the scenery and the clothes we are wearing. The trip to the Keys had been a surprise anniversary gift. He must have had the film developed after I moved out and had it framed.

The realization causes a lump to form in my throat that is painful to swallow in more ways than one.

"There are some clean towels under the sink," he says, startling me as he enters the room behind me.

Although it's clear that he noted my interest in the picture, he doesn't say or do anything to draw attention to it, and for that I am grateful. I can hear him stripping the bed as I retreat into the bathroom.

It's not until I turn on the water and begin to disrobe that I realize that I have a problem.

Somewhere between the seizure, car accident, and struggle with the mysterious assassin, I have lost the ability to put my arms behind my back. I silently curse at my bra for a few moments before relenting and shutting off the water so that I don't have strain my voice to speak over it.

"Mulder?"

There's a periodic moment of silence before he responds.

"Yeah?"

"Can you come in here for a minute?"

"Um … yeah, sure, Scully, just ... give me a minute."

Within a few seconds, he's at the door.

"What's wrong Scully? Are you OKAY?"

"Yes, I'm fine, I just … I'm having trouble with the clasp, can you undo it for me?"

He steps into the bathroom and freezes.

"Jesus, Scully."

I'm half naked, but that's not why he's cursing.

"Is this from the accident or from …?"

His fingers gently trace over the bruising as he spins me to take a closer look.

"I'm not sure, but I can't quite get the … can you …?"

"Yeah."

He unclips my bra rubbing his hands lightly over my low back and shoulder blades until he reaches the tops of my shoulders. My back is to him, but his eyes meet mine in the mirror.

"I knew it was bad, but I had no idea it was this bad. Do you have any pain meds?"

"No … I'm okay … just going to be sore for a couple of days."

He doesn't believe me, but he doesn't press the issue either. Instead, he kisses the top of my head and leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

I half expect him to be lingering around when I get out the shower, but he isn't.

The bed is covered with fresh sheets, and the clothes from my overnight bag are laid out at the edge of the bed. If I weren't so tired, I would probably be more embarrassed by the fact that he found one of his old tee shirts in my overnight bag. Although we've been separated for nearly four years now, I still find myself sleeping in his clothes. I silently curse myself for packing something so intimately personal in an overnight bag prepared to use on company time.

"Scully?"

"Just a minute," I say as I gingerly finish dressing.

When I open the door, he's waiting on the other side with a steaming cup of hot tea.

"Thank you."

He smiles.

"Got everything you need?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Okay. Well … I'll see you in the morning. If you need anything, I'll be down here."

For a moment, we just stand in silence, neither of us knowing quite what to say.

As I gaze into his eyes, I realize that what I want more than anything is for him to come to bed and wrap his arms around me, but I have no right to ask that of him. I threw that right away the moment I left him, so instead of asking him to stay, I allow him to kiss my forehead and then watch him walk away.

—

I wake up to hands on my body.

I want to scream, but I can't because there is no air in my lungs.

Panicked, I kick, claw, and fight for my life, but my efforts are fruitless. Everything is moving in slow motion, and I am powerless to stop it. That's when it hits me … I'm dying … this must be what dying feels like. Unable to fight any longer, I surrender to fate and still my body. Just as my field of vision begins to darken into a black blur, I hear a familiar voice. A voice that clears the fog and fills my lungs with air.

He releases me quickly, narrowly avoiding getting headbutted as I bolt up out of bed.

"SCULLY … SCULLY … It's me … It's just a dream. It's me. Mulder."

I'm gasping for breath and unable to speak, but relief floods me as my vision clears.

"It's just a dream, Scully," he repeats softly. "I'm here. You're safe."

Once he sees that I have oriented back to reality, he wraps his arms around me, pulling my head into his chest.

I try to swallow the sob before it leaves my throat, but I can't. The tears quickly follow.

"Shhhhhh … It's OKAY. I'm here. You're safe."

This only makes me cry harder.

He lays us down gently, cradling my head against his chest — taking care to not to apply too much pressure to my bruised and battered body.

Neither of us speaks for quite some time.

When the tears subside, and my breathing normalizes, he's the one to break the silence.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I sniffle, trying to clear my nose and throat so that I can speak. I've made a mess of the shirt he's wearing. It's so wet in places that it's sticking to his skin, but I don't care, and I doubt he does either.

"I couldn't breathe."

It's likely not the detailed explanation he was looking for, but it's the only explanation that is required.

He takes a deep breath and pulls my body more tightly against his.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Scully."

"You can't promise that, Mulder. No more than I could promise it to you."

"I've gone to the ends of the earth for you … killed for you … and I would give my life for yours in a heartbeat. You know that."

I do know, but this conversation is quickly heading in a direction that I'm not ready to go. Not tonight. So I don't respond with words. Instead, I snuggle into his chest, wrapping my arms around him and intertwining my legs with his. I don't want to live like I'm living on borrowed time. I want to go to sleep in his arms comforted by the fact that I still have tomorrow to say all the things I need to say. So instead of making confessions of heart, I close my eyes and surrender to sleep as I listen to the beat of his heart.

[solitaria-fantasma]

Dark Arts and Demons - Ch. 35

The ‘spicy’ ice cream was actually quite delicious, and (once he’d worked up the courage) Penn shyly asked Savina Pepper if he could have another.

As he retreated back to his ‘private’ booth with the succulent treat, the spirit skirted around the edge of the room to avoid the people still remaining. Mr. Kingsmen had pulled the real Arthur outside to ‘have a talk’ as soon as the group had broken up, and the scary blue-haired girl - Vivi - had left with the dog-beast, Mystery. They had books at home that they needed to read, to know how to safely pull Penn out of his Arthur’s body, and put Arthur back in.

She had pulled Lewis aside before she’d left, and whispered - all while side-eyeing Penn where he sat huddled in his booth - to ‘keep an eye on that one’.

Penn had tried not to take it too personally.

But Lewis didn’t try to approach Penn until a little while after Vivi had left, and the restaurant floor had been detail-cleaned. Pepper Paradiso had a reputation to uphold, after all. Eventually, however, there had been nothing left to do, and Lewis had (somewhat hesitantly) approached the only occupied booth.

“Hey...” Penn winced, and sank a little lower in the booth seat. He’d been quietly hoping that Lewis would just watch him from a distance, like Vivi had been. “Listen, I’m, um. I’m sorry. About calling you ‘dangerous’ before.” Lewis rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “We thought you were someone who’s done very...very bad things to us,” Gods above, was that an understatement. “And...we were scared-”

“That I might hurt your family.” Penn finished sullenly. Lewis winced. When it was said out loud like that-...well, no. It sounded terrible either way. But he’d been hoping not to have to say it out loud, anyway.  “You do not have to worry.” Penn fidgeted nervously with the milkshake glass, turning it back and forth on the table and drawing his finger through the condensation on the outside. “I will not hurt these people.” He promised. “They have all been very nice to me.”

“...mm.” Lewis hummed, and shifted on his feet. Penn wondered why he did that. Wasn’t this man a spirit, like he was? He was pretty sure normal people couldn’t change themselves into a flaming skeleton…and survive, at least. “May I sit down?” Lewis asked, gesturing with one hand towards the booth seat opposite Penn. The spirit hesitated, but nodded his head after a few seconds’ thought.

He was going to be with these people until he could be removed, and Arthur could take his body back, whether he liked it or not. It was probably in his best interests to try and be as accommodating as possible.

“Thanks...” Lewis slid into the seat, and folded his arms along the table. “So…” He smiled, and the expression was so warm that Penn couldn’t help but relax, even just a little bit. A tiny part of him felt unnerved, by that. “Mama tells me you actually like Cayenne’s ‘spicy milkshake surprise’?”

“It is...very tasty.” As if to make a point, Penn took another sip of the milkshake. “I like the flavor, and the way it makes my-...um...A-Arthur’s...tongue tingle.” Lewis’ made a curious sound, and leaned back in his seat, seemingly missing (or maybe ignoring?) Penn’s slip of the tongue.

“Arthur usually can’t handle a lot of spice.” The other spirit revealed. “Mama and Papa made a special spice-free version of some of our dishes and deserts, just so he could try some of them.” The ghost scratched thoughtfully at his cheek. “I wonder why you experience it differently? Maybe it’s a ‘mind over matter’ thing, and you have a different tolerance because you have nothing else to compare it to?”

“.....yes.” Penn said before taking a long sip of the shake. He had no idea what Lewis was talking about, in all honesty. But he liked this strange atmosphere that was starting to form - one where he didn’t feel watched or threatened. It felt like coming home had...before he’d learned that he wasn’t who he thought he was.

“....” Lewis’s smile widened, and he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. Penn swallowed nervously, and leaned back just a little bit. “Do you like tacos?” Lewis asked, steepling his hands in front of his grin. “Because there’s this recipe for a chipotle dessert taco I’ve been working on, and I really, really need someone to taste test it…”

…….

Of the many difficult things Arthur had to do in his lifetime, he considered this awkward heart-to-heart with his uncle to be the hardest of them all.

Lance had already seen him - and even helped him through - some of his lowest points in life. He had been there when his parents had walked away from him, and when he couldn’t sleep through the phantom pains of a freshly lost limb. He’d listened patiently when Arthur had rambled about demons and green skin in the haze of hospital-grade painkillers, and Arthur had nothing but gratitude for all his uncle had done for him.

He just...hadn’t wanted Lance to know how far he still was from ‘okay’.

But out there, on the back patio of Pepper Paradiso, with nothing but the distant song of cicadas to fill the silence, Arthur told him.

About the voice in his head that had once blended with his intrusive thoughts, only to grow more and more distinct and vicious over months and months, and the nightmares he’d kept to himself. About his fears of being ignored, or his concerns being laughed off. About his fears of being taken all too seriously, and abandoned by the people he loved all over again...

Lance listened to all of this with his usual stoic poker face, and when Arthur had finally fallen silent, he reached out, and wrapped one arm around his nephew’s shoulders. The firm, one-armed side hug was a small gesture, but Arthur sank into it gratefully. He’d been half-expecting a stern lecture on ‘taking stupid risks and the consequences of such’, like Vivi had given him on the flight back to their hotel, but in retrospect, that wasn’t Lance’s style.

“I’m sorry.” He’d said them so much over the last few days, the words were starting to lose their meaning. “I swear, this wasn’t the outcome I wanted. I just wanted to...to...” Arthur cringed and ground the heel of his ghostfire palm against his forehead as he searched for the right words.

“To clear the air.” Lance supplied. Arthur released the breath he’d been holding, and sagged, letting his arm drop down to his lap.

“Yeah…” He murmured. “Exactly.” Lance patted his shoulder a few times, and Arthur continued to lean against his uncle for the duration, quietly marveling at how much lighter he felt. Maybe he should have gotten all this off of his chest a long time ago…in hindsight, it wasn’t having the disastrous ripple effects he’d feared, and really, it would have avoided an awful lot of trouble to have just gotten it over with…

Lance patted his nephew’s shoulder one last time, and then lowered his arm. Arthur took the cue to sit up, and scrubbed his hands across his face, though any tears had long since dried. He took a deep - and somewhat shaky, still - breath, and let it out slowly. The sound of the cicadas seemed a little bit clearer.

“Arthur,” Lance started. “I want you to know that you can trust me. I know I’m not the easiest guy to come to with big emotions like all that,” The man quickly held up a hand before Arthur could speak. “But you’re my family and I care about you. Even if I don’t understand all of what you do or what’s going on in our life.” He still wasn’t big on all these supernatural shenanigans...but they were a part of his nephew’s life, and that, by extension, made them a part of his.

Nothing he could do but learn to deal with it.

“If you need to get something off your mind - no matter what it is - I’m always gonna be here to listen, and I’m not here to judge you.” Lance continued. Arthur wondered how he could feel a lump in his throat with no nervous system. Wouldn’t Vivi love to hear about that? “What’s done is done, and yelling won’t take anything back, so I’m just gonna suggest that, from now on, we talk about things like this, ‘stead of keeping them all bottled up.” The elder Kingsmen shifted awkwardly, and crossed his arms.

“I’ll be up front with you, kiddo. I’m gonna be just as terrible at it as you.” He admitted grudgingly. “I don’t exactly wear my heart out on my sleeve, so to speak. But I also won’t ever ask you to do anything that I wouldn’t do, myself, so I’ll promise you this: If you’ll trust me enough to vent to me when you feel overwhelmed or upset or anything else, I’ll trust you enough to do some opening up, myself.”

“.....” Arthur made a choked up sound, and scrubbed his hand across his face again. “Sure thing, uncle.” He promised. If his voice cracked a bit, Lance would never tell.

They sat outside for a few minutes more, listening to the cicadas, and the sounds of the traffic around the building slowly increasing as the day wore on, before standing up, and heading back inside the restaurant.

[quarantinewithbean]

The Beginning

Really, this isn’t the beginning, it’s just the beginning of this blog. I really wanted to blog about my fertility journey from the start, but I was always so consumed with the “next step” and my own frustrations with continually NOT getting pregnant that I didn’t ever make the time. I’m not sure, maybe I had a fear that writing about it would make it even more real that it wasn’t happening. Maybe I was afraid it would somehow make my fear of never being able to have kids somehow come true. Or, perhaps it was just because I’ve always had a habit of starting a diary/journal/blog with great intentions but not continuing them (I have a stack of diaries with about 10 pages written in each from various years). I’m guessing it was a combination of things.

Then, by the time we finally became pregnant this past October after 4 years of trying (”trying” meaning: having countless doctor’s appointments, having to see reproductive specialists, shedding more tears than I would like to admit to, going through multiple unpleasant and painful medical procedures to figure out the source of our infertility, eventually having a surgery to open one of my Fallopian tubes, going through multiple rounds of fertility medications, and basically owning stock in pregnancy/ovulation test kits by the end of it), I was so ecstatic that I did not want to revisit any of the painful memories of how upsetting it was to get that negative test month after month. So, I didn’t start a blog. I just reveled in the happiness that I finally had a little bean in my belly. Well, reveled in happiness and morning sickness for a solid trimester and a half. But even that incessantly burning nausea couldn’t wipe the smile off of my face.

Now, fast forward and here I am, here we are together, and the world has been absolutely turned on its head. (Actually, that is putting it lightly. If I am being real, it feels more like the world has taken a giant shit all over everyone and everything and just can’t stop. Sort of like the cast of the original Bridesmaids after they all got food poisoning. That is our world at present.) I now have an even more incredible opportunity to document what it is like to survive these times living during a pandemic, 6 months pregnant, working at a hospital. What a combination! But I figured it is a once in a lifetime chance to share my thoughts on a page in hopes that my little bean will be able to someday look back and read about how crazy the world was when he/she was baking in my tummy. I know that I always soaked up stories that my Grandma Max would tell about surviving the Great Depression. It is always fascinating to hear about a surreal time that someone else went through, especially if it is so much different than the current life one is living. It allows us to learn and can help spur powerful perspective shifts in our own lives.

Living in the rural Midwest, I feel like this COVID-19 pandemic is just beginning. Actually, when the virus first started circulating in other parts of the world, I think it was easy for us all to at first deny that it would get that bad here in the US. Seeing footage of overrun hospitals on the TV felt like we were just watching a bad movie. Now our realities are much different, and we are experiencing it first hand here, seeing what it is doing to our cities, to our healthcare professionals, to our economy, to our businesses, to our communities, to our people. We know it will inevitably hit us here, too, in the Midwest - things are just a little slower to show here than the rest of the country. 

For those of you who don’t know, I work at the local VA hospital as a psychologist. Thankfully, I see many of my patients using telehealth/video sessions already and it wasn’t a huge shift to transition the rest of them to telehealth during this time to prevent potential spread of the virus. Half of my job is providing psychological services on a Home-Based Primary Care (HBPC) team, and half is also spent working in the hospital with patients at bedside as a medical psychologist on our long-term/continuing care/rehabilitation units. It is quite a tense environment for everyone at the hospital right now, for sure. I feel it when I arrive and leave my units there, and lately on my “hospital days” I get home and just feel sorta drained. The stress and anxiety is palpable. As you could imagine, any patient or colleague who coughs, sneezes, etc. basically causes everyone around to have a mini panic attack (or, maybe not everyone, maybe just me?? lol). My patients, understandably, are needing more support during this time, so I am having more frequent sessions and seeing an uptick in the number on my panel. This is fine with me though as I love what I do and giving therapy has a way of relaxing me as well. I am also very grateful that I will likely be able to see many of my hospital patients using technology as well (just seeing them via video from my office, which is located in a small secure building not attached to the main hospital.) I may still need to go to the hospital on occasion, but it won’t be as frequently as it was. They are trying to limit as much staff traffic as possible on the units I work because the population is so vulnerable, so the less people walking onto the floor the better. I really feel for my colleagues that are on the floor all the time, constantly prepping and waiting for the worst to hit. It feels like the calm before the storm over there - like when you see the sky turn purple in the distance and know that a tornado is headed your way. 

Being pregnant in the midst of all of this is just another added layer of complexity for me. On one hand, it does make me feel more stressed about potentially contracting the virus, because it’s not just me in my body and I want to do anything in my power to protect my little babe. I honestly feel like I would not be nearly as freaked out about getting COVID if I didn’t have this precious bean growing that took so many years and effort and prayers and tears to create. I am grateful that the (very small amount) of evidence thus far does not suggest much for adverse outcomes related to pregnancy and the virus, but I am also fearful knowing that the data is quite limited. I do know that pregnancy  suppresses my immune system and typically puts a woman at greater risk for complications with other respiratory infections/illnesses.

On the flip side, the opposite of being freaked out about being a pregnant healthcare worker during this pandemic, having this baby growing inside of me is such a welcome and happy distraction from everything! I love thinking about what it will be like when he/she finally arrives. I am nesting like a maniac at home, constantly cleaning and organizing and decorating our nursery and going in there and sitting in the rocking chair and imagining what our baby will be like. I’m singing to Bean, too, and it is so nuts - every time I do he/she just bounces all over the place! Either loves my voice or hates it. Lol. I am loving the time spent at home with my two favorite boys, too. Aaron has been making killer meals and Darwin is reveling in all of the mom and dad cuddle time (which, he had better soak up as his life is going to become quite miserable for him having to share his throne in a matter of months.) 

Well, I suppose it’s time for me to get some rest before another crazy day at the office tomorrow. It is just about time for Bean’s 9 pm gymnastics session :) Stay safe, healthy, call each other, and STAY HOME!

Here’s a random pic of me during Aaron and my trip to Deadwood in October. We found out we were expecting just a few short weeks after this was taken :) It reminds me of the beginning of this journey. We are hoping to return to the Black Hills for a long weekend in May (as long as this virus stuff settles down). 

[reneeswing]

The Joy, The Ridicule and The Hope

Let's rewind: what are the top three advices that have been given to us about COVID-19 prevention: wash your hand, observe social distance and take care of each other. Does that ring the bell that we have learnt all three things since we are in elementary school, if we are ever lucky enough to go to one.

So, I am going to make a bold statement here: most of the life-long lessons that we need for going through life, we’ve learnt them way before advanced educations, regardless of differences in culture, race and geographic locations. Yet, the sad truth is we only seem to spend the remainder of our time forgetting all we have learnt and all we need to remember to overcome this conundrum. If I dig a bit deeper, my basic education have equiped me with way more useful knowledge than what business school and law school have ever tought me. To name a few, geography helps me to navigate through the continents without being laughed at, history and literature offer me perspectives to see and comprehend everything ever happened in this time and this world. Law school and business school, on the other hand, slowly coop up people into a disillusion of elite class, distancing them from what’s actually going on in this insanely biased reality. Don’t get me wrong, I still believe every opportunity of education matters, it emancipates and liberates generations; and if anything, I have been blessed with all sort of way of thinking, coming from each stage of my school years. It is the monotonous perception on education that sometimes misinterprets or overly simplifies its true essence.

Do anyone begin to appreciate the down time of this quanrantine yet? I am not saying this to trivialize the dismal impact of the pandemic; because both our economic and social lives have taken a major toll from this crisis. For those who are alone in this quarantine, they are craving for human contact, the touch, the hug, all the more basic need of being a human; whereas for those who have a full house with multiple children at home, the working day never ends as it is combined with home schooling. This makes people finally realize that their job is their ultimate refuge. One of my friends started to refer to her kids as fantastic beasts, since the third week of the lockdown. This is, in my opinion, one of the best metaphors of the year. Now, this is what I hope: when all this is over, we will eventually appreciate more of our teachers and other educational workers. for us, it is only with our own kids, whereas at school, kids are ganged up on them. They are entitled to fairer reward and respect from all walks of the society.

Like others, my emotion has gone through various stages: at first, I was fairly content with what I’ve got here, a cozy home, abundant toilet rolls and sufficient supply of alcoholic grape juice. Then some kind of obsession started to develop, the bad kind is to slowly transform healthy self-reflection into self-condemnation for something I have done wrong 2,3,5 years ago. And the more time I spent on my devices, the higher level of anxiety incubated. Then, later on, I decided to have a rather lengthy conversation with myself, the righteous thing that I have ever done: committing to my own feelings, compelling myself away from judgement. I learnt to acknowledge them, more importantly, I searched for language and specific words to label them in all the more precise way. Through that exercise, I realized although they appear similarly, the emotion of anxiety is very different from that of sadness; and the exhileration that I was feeling is also different from excitement. When I found out I was able to distinguish those various emotions in me, I felt stress level has already half way gone, I could call the truce with myself. So, something good does come out from this period. When we are not able to go out, we should allow ourselves to go within.  

There are a lot more silver linings. To my recollection over the past 8 years, I don’t rememer any of the Dutch springs is as beautiful as this one. We’ve had sunny and warm weather throughout the month of April. Everyday, I went onto my balcony, let the light beam through my forehead and inhale the most precious fresh air. It is painful to face it that our continents are receding to isolated islands as all the traffics are shut down, but it is also delightful to find that nature thrives when human society hits the PAUSE button. The blue sky is returned to the birds and their flapping wings; waterways turn purer as no more crazy human running around and emitting pollution into them.  Even panda’s resume consummation. For the last 2,3 years, anthropogenic activities have caused large scale bushfires across north and south hemispheres; it happened even in Syberia above the North Pole. Human society is inflicting pains onto the lung of our Mother Earth. Isn’t it an irony that our respiratory system is succumbed to this coronavirus? I couldn’t help but wonder if this pandemic is the nature’s vengeance onto the arrogance of human race? So, here comes my second wish. One day as we come out of this pandemic, our peaceful moments with the nature will stick around a bit longer. Even though I know that humanity is terrible at reckoning with it own sin, I still wish this time, after all we have endured, we will finally learn to return the favour for our Mother Nature’s altruistic love. That we will be more reflective on our own behaviours, the impact that each of us have made onto anything outside of ourselves. You may say I am a dreamer, but I am definitely not and should not be the only one.

......

The world is suffering from its own bipolar disorder. To steer my way clear from the menaces, I rid myself of watching news during the weekends. But one still doesn't make the cut. As for a while, it is the only thing that people couldn't stop talking about: Donald Trump contemplates injecting/ingesting coronavirus patients with disinfectants, until the moment he made the next obnoxious statement. What's even more troubling is there was actually a slight increasing number of ER cases caused by internal administration of chemical solvent. Both New York Times and RB, the producer of Lysol and Dettol, had to make official announcement to talk people out of their desperate craze. One day I woke up and spit out this question: how is it even possibly happening? If B school has ever taught me anything, it is that leadership matters; and I dedicated most of my career contemplating how to be a good (future) leader. But nowadays, we are riding a perfect storm, while sinking down into a chasm called: the scum rises to the top. We are living in a reality that outruns the most ridiculous screenwriting of political drama. Not only have we got Trump assumed the most powerful position in this world, we don't seem capable of appropriating any countermeasures to dampen the damages. Although his strategy is nothing much different from that of a shameless politician: barking up the wrong trees to divert the public's attention further away from criticism against him, the impact however is way too profound to be left alone. He is dividing not only a country, also driving a wedge between friendly countries, when the only hope the world is left with is the hope of solidarity. 

The world is in urgent need of an assertive voice with a kind heart and a pair of potent hands. It cannot be done by one person, rather, has to be a collective conscience of all the human societies. The younger generation does not believe in institutions, they embrace anarchistic believes and have little problem of taking things to its extremity; but in the meantime, they are reasonable, way more objective and fairer than they are being judged or even portrayed. They believe in gender equality, inform themselves of cultural intricacy and they gather to rally for animal rights and climate change. For both reasons, their world needs leaders with integrity and convincing voices. In all appropriate times, we need to learn to be a leader for ourselves and for others. It is up to us how we are going to make our next decision, in giving an opinion, in executing right to vote, in influencing people around us and in doing smallest good deeds to hold onto each other. Here's an example. It is no strange thing to know that our doctors and nurses are working under tremendous physical and mental pressures. We've heard multiple cases in Italy and the US that medical staff committed suicide after virus contraction or nervous breakdown. In almost every country, people are finding ways to demonstrate their gratitude to their guardian angels; however news from India reads that doctors and nurses become target of discrimination, demonising them as virus itself. Similar discriminatory stories surface from time to time around the world against people from other countries or communities because of the pandemic. This shows how far off people could be dangerously biased and misled; the absence of a just and empathetic figure in the leadership attributes to and to a great extent severs the alienation. But we all could and should choose to lead. We can never let our guard down, ignoring any appalling ignorance, even with the slightest carelessness. We need to speak up, protect people who are protecting us and the world's most vulnerable's. We need to do it constantly, consistently and often enough. Bear in mind, our decision and undertaking of today will define our tomorrow in common. 

......

Alright, enough about the grim prospect and grievance. As far as being a hopeless optimist, I will complement my third wish with a faith in humanity after it all. Yesterday, I watched the season finale of Westworld. As Dolores sank down into her memory, she restated: "Some people choose to see the ugliness in this world. The disarray. I choose to see the beauty". I agree with every bit of those words. I believe the key to the sublime lies in ourselves and our conscience. In the end, true bravery is to love the world and humanity, despite the ugliness that we have seen or experienced. 

Before I let you go, I am inviting you to join me in paying tributes to all the essential workers who are risking their lives every day to keep ours running without panics. Next to our lovely doctors and nurses, here's to the infrastructure workers, the train conductors and bus drivers,  the supermarkets' staff, the logistics companies, the mailman, (especially my mailman, who brings me my 1,000 packages to fill the huge void in my soul), the journalists and newsmen, who are running all across the countries, strive to bring us brutal facts, inconvenient truths, disarray and hopes. Collectively you've prevented the world from crumpling, after the mess we made. I thank you for that! 

Please take care and stay healthy!

Love, R