#but actually i’d worry for my health in that case. i’m being dead serious i’d probably pass out

[titsthedamnseason]

i need like. more content and videos of taylor and sabrina interacting because even just hearing taylor talk about her and say her fucking NAME in introductions is WILDDDDDDD to me like i wanted it for so long that it’s like i can’t believe my eyes or ears

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Fourteen ~ Haldir

|previous part|

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 1754

Warnings: TW -- mentions of illness

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Can I just say, that I TRULY believe I have some of the best readers in the entire world? Each of you is so kind, so encouraging, and you take time out of your day to read this story!! Thank you, each and every one of you, so, so much! 

Immediately after leaving Cosima’s room, I seek out Baranor. I don’t want to leave her alone and must find a task to calm my mind. Though Cosima sounded sure of her ailment being non-severe, humans are so fragile. What if she were to sway like she did earlier but didn’t have me there to catch her? She could fall to the stone floor and crack her head open.

I freeze. Should I go back?

No. I stop myself. She said she would be fine, I have to respect that. Besides, I sigh, focusing on the bigger picture. I can check on her tomorrow. In the meantime, Baranor might have insight.

It’s still early, only five o’clock or so, and Baranor is exactly where I expect him to be — the healing wards. Like me, his is not prone to taking an extended period without work.

He sees me coming and greets me with a smile, passing along a small jar to another healer clothed in a robe of pale green. “We’re attempting to develop a new salve for burns,” he explains. “What brings you to the healing wards?”

I sigh, suddenly feeling exhausted under the stress of the last twenty minutes. So much could have gone wrong. “Cosima.”

Baranor’s brow furrows in concern and he directs me to what looks to be an extra office loaned to him — it’s already covered in his belongings and notes. He sits in the oversized chair behind the desk, clasping his hands in front of him. “What happened?”

I practically sink into the chair across from him. “We agreed to meet this evening in her room so I could begin to teach her self-defense. She seemed fine when I arrived — her usual personality, bright eyes, didn’t seem tired. One second she was laughing, and the next, gasping in pain. I-I mean, Baranor, you should have seen it.” I gulp at the memory, reliving the moment Cosima’s condition shifted. “All the life left her face and she swayed like she was going to faint. I caught her and sat her on the couch but she pitched forward and nearly vomited. She said she had a headache. When the sickness and pain faded enough for her to open her eyes, she looked absolutely exhausted. She said she wants to rest so I left her room and came straight here.”

Baranor nods, looking calm. “How long did the episode last?”

I concentrate on the memory, though everything in me wants to shy away. “Maybe three minutes?”

Baranor dips his head as if expecting this. “Humans are much more fragile than elves—you know this. If they do not sleep enough or get proper nutrients, they can become susceptible to headaches and mild sicknesses — even stress can have that effect on them. Sometimes headaches can be severe, in which case they are called migraines and usually come with nausea, dizziness, and more intense pain.”

My eyes widen. That’s terrifying. Such normal things that wouldn’t do much to an elf — stress, inadequate sleep, water, food — can incapacitate a human. How much more vulnerable to serious circumstances they must be — injury, for instance.

But Baranor only looks infuriatingly serene. I have to remind myself that he encounters things like this every day, even if he does typically treat ellyn. Mild fluctuations in health do not alarm him because he knows how they are likely to turn out and how to threat a patient if their health declines further.

“I will check on her in the morning after she’s had time to rest, but do not worry, mellon nîn. This is just something that happens to humans from time to time.”

I take a deep breath, leaning against the back of the chair. “Alright. Thank you. I’m sorry to burst in on your work.”

He waves off my apology. But, after a pause, he grimaces.

My stomach sinks. “What?”

He speaks much too slowly for my liking. “I do not want to alarm you, but there’s a chance Elrond might mention something to you or your brothers, and I’d rather you hear it from me so you are not caught off guard.”

I feel my eyes widening and attempt to reign in my expression. “What, Baranor?”

He sighs. “When we first encountered Cosima, she was as good as dead. Her fæ was so far gone, I had to expend serious energy calling her back. I…I had hoped that because she had actually made the choice to wake up that she would acclimate well—make a full recovery. When I dealt with her arm after the attack, I again used the power in my fæ to heal her. I noticed that there is still something…‘off’ in her own fæ.”

I feel my jaw lock. A roaring rushes through my ears. “Off?”

“Yes,” Baranor nods steadily. “Alex’s is the same way. Both the human spirits seem…torn, almost, or wounded. Like I said, ‘off’. I spoke to Elrond and he has agreed to work with them both. He believes their memory loss could related to the injuries in their fæs and, as we heal their memories, their fæs will repair themselves. Our working theory is that the memory loss is so severe it has caused the fæ to forget, almost like the memories were violently cut out of it. I do not know what that means but I think it likely originated when they arrived in this world, possibly before when they somehow transferred from their world to ours — it’s logical to think that had some impact on their fæs.”

I exhale slowly, taking all this information in.

It is alarming, to say the least.

A fæ should not be damaged…it could cause an elf to fade.

But humans are different, I reason. The health of their spirits isn’t tied to their longevity. Well — I have to correct myself. Maybe it is and humans just don’t live long enough to know for sure. I try to turn my focus back to Baranor — these worrisome thoughts are not helpful. “Do you believe this poses a threat to them?”

Baranor grimaces. “I cannot say for sure, but my instinct is that it’s not as long as they receive proper care — almost a physical therapy of sort, but for their fæs. Again, I would not have bothered you with this if I didn’t think Elrond might bring it up.”

I set him with a stern look. “Any information about the health of those in my care is of concern to me. I ask that you keep me updated.”

He bows his head. “Of course.”

I stand, feeling like I need sleep but knowing my mind is racing too much to do so. I say farewell to my friend and catch an attendant on the way to my room, requesting that dinner be sent to my chambers. I don’t feel like eating in the company of the hall. Part of me wonders if I should have the attendant take food to Cosima, just in case she’s decided she’s hungry, but I remind myself that she is perfectly capable of requesting her own dinner. If she wishes to eat, she can arrange it.

That doesn’t stop me from tucking away a banana and some bread just in case she hasn’t eaten by the time I visit her tomorrow. Proper nutrients, enough rest, sufficient hydration, and low stress.

Right as I cut into dinner, Rumil swaggers in with a plate of his own. He snorts, joining me at the small table. “Great minds, huh?” He leans towards me, furrowing his brow and studying me more intently. “Are you alright? You look pale.”

I roll my eyes, trying to cover my anxiety. “I’m always pale.”

Rumil huffs. “Come on, what’s bothering you?”

I sigh. Rumil is probably going to hear it from Elrond or Baranor anyway, so I may as well tell him. I start from the beginning. “I visited Cosima this evening.” Rumil sits back in his chair, a strange look in his eye. Could he already know? How? “I meant to teach her to defend herself, but not long after I arrived, she—she just got sick. Within a moment’s difference, she was nearly collapsed on the floor.” I shake my head against the memories but dutifully recount the full story to my brother, including Baranor’s observations and theory.

By the end, Rumil slumps in his seat, staring over my shoulder with a distant look in his eye. He’s silent for a long time.

“Haldir I…I owe you an apology. Cosima, too, though I don’t think she’d understand why.”

I furrow my eyebrows. What could he be sorry for?

“I’ve been teasing you both lately and have been encouraging your feelings for each other. It was wrong of me — I didn’t consider her mortality and what pursing a relationship with her would mean. I won’t do it anymore, I promise. Can you forgive me?”

I blink. What? “I don’t have feelings for her.”

Rumil sets me with a dubious look. “I’m your brother, you can be honest with me.”

“I don’t have feelings for her,” I repeat, more forcefully this time. Rumil’s being ridiculous. And the youngest of my brothers — his age is showing.

He huffs, looking to the ceiling as if to request strength from the Valar. “Are you really so unaware of yourself? Of her?” At my look of annoyance, he groans, seeming like he wants to push it. I set my shoulders, making it clear that we will be discussing this no further.

Finally, Rumil shakes his head, turning his gaze to his meal. “Fine, I am sorry, I can see I’ve overstepped my bounds. Forget it.”

I return to my food, watching my brother warily. His shoulders sag and he looks almost…scared. His distress is apparent, even if his accusations are baseless. He brings his eyes back to mine and the grief there causes me to freeze. What is going on with my brother?

“But Haldir…Be careful. She will be dead long before this age is done, and that is if she chooses to stay in this world.”

My fork falls to my plate.

A hollow, aching feeling makes my chest feel tight.

I don’t even know what to say to that.

Rumil stands and places a hand on my shoulder, squeezing briefly. Then, he makes for the exit. “I will leave you to your thoughts.”

And then he closes the door behind him and I am indeed alone with these terrifying thoughts.

A/n This one is shorter than the others I’ve posted, but I feel like it’s kinda dense and it was a good place to leave off. Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs make my day! Also, if you have any thoughts/theories, I would love to know those! @eru-vande sent me one the other day and it was really fun!

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Tracing Time

Disclaimer that I am not a therapist nor bipolar but I have had a therapist so I’m hoping it’s not too awful of a depiction. Also want to add a minor content warning for the ending scene for homophobia, nothing explicit or even verbal, just a woman with an icky vibe.

Wednesday, 16:04

Song: Haux - Youth

Sander tips his head against the back of the couch and stares at the fan in the corner. It drones in slow circles, doing little more than disturbing the air right in front of it. It still makes the air in the room chilly enough that Sander is glad he’s wearing a sweater, though.

Between it and the window is an ‘abstract’ painting of the brain. Abstract in that the supposed organ is actually scattered in pieces throughout the canvas, all in various states of destruction. One has trees growing out of it, for example. Another is on fire; it’s Sander’s favourite.

He’d stared at it with an absurd sort of fascination in his first session, almost two years ago now, and his therapist, Agathe, had simply smiled at him and asked if he liked art. It was a sneaky way in, but he supposed that was the point. These meetings have gotten fewer and farther apart over that time, now that he can supposedly manage himself to a high enough standard on his own. Well, not quite enough, he supposes, or he probably wouldn’t be here at all. He can practically hear Agathe’s rebuke that they are just ‘casual check-ins’, and Sander is free to go whenever he pleases.

At every one of those reminders, Sander debates doing exactly that—getting up and going. Instead, he usually ends up slumping sullenly for a few minutes before Agathe prods her way back in.

They haven’t been mandatory in a long time, these sessions, but now there’s just something...reassuring. There are still times he doesn’t bother making an appointment, but knowing he can, and knowing that someone with the right knowledge doesn’t see any reason to worry about him, leaves a pretty damn good sense of relief.

And he did have a bit of a blip, at the start of the year. A few days in which he had to be prodded and coerced into just taking a drink of water, and had spent the majority of in his room. It had overlapped the holidays, so he’d let Robbe come and cocoon himself with him for a good chunk of the time.

It hadn’t made him better. But it made him...safe, or something similar, and that was the most he could hope for.

It was the coming-out-of-nowhere aspect that had shaken him a bit. He’d felt better, just keeping up his sessions then, being sure that he was at least doing alright with his medication. It’s working okay, the sitting and talking, so he shows up and just lets Agathe keep making sure.

The door cracks open now and she slips back in, dropping into the couch across from Sander and shooting him her usual calm, too-happy smile through light lipstick. It brings out her dimples. She’s not yet marred by wrinkles, but there’s something soft and aging about her face, anyway. Maybe it’s the graying roots. “Sorry about that, I forget this thing way too often.” She holds up the clipboard she’d carried in with an exasperated sigh, murmuring under her breath as she flicks through it and gets settled.

It’s all painfully familiar. It makes Sander smile.

He does like her. He’s never bothered denying that.

“So, how are we today?” It’s the same way she always starts, though it’s usually accompanied by—ah, there we go—clasped hands and another smile.

“Good,” Sander says. It’s automatic, but he also means it. Today is fine. It’s good.

She raises her brow when he doesn’t offer anything else. “Alright, good. Belated birthday wishes are in order, I believe?”

“Yeah, thank you. Just yesterday.”

She nods, and Sander does not think about how that was dumb when she obviously already knows. But she just settles back and crosses her legs. “Did you do anything to celebrate?”

Sander’s lips finally stretch in a smile of his own. He thinks it’s probably a little dopey, a little lovestruck, and she probably knows exactly what he’s going to say before he opens his mouth. “I had breakfast with my parents because Robbe took me out for dinner. Then he had a surprise party planned at our friends’ flat.”

“A party on a school night?” Agathe’s brows raise, and she shakes her head with a small laugh. “How do they deal with that today?”

“No clue,” Sander breathes out a huff of his own, trying not to feel overly amused by how Gilles had been in the class they shared with Sander earlier in the day. For once, they hadn’t said a word, just sat with their head down for the entire lecture, wincing every now and then when Sander laughed. He hadn’t even heard from any of the others, but Robbe had looked dead on his feet this morning, as well. He’d sent Sander a slightly sunnier selfie about half an hour ago, though, so he’s probably fine. “Not very well, I imagine.”

She tilts her head. “You seem well enough.”

“Well, I wasn’t drinking,” Sander shrugs.

At this, her serene little smile returns and her nod seems approving, and even though Sander hadn’t been looking for it, he grudgingly admits that it feels good. “I know that can be a difficult choice, and I’d rarely be able to make it myself,” she laughs again. “It’s great that you feel strong and comfortable enough in that group to do your own thing.”

Sander can’t help a little snort. “Are you kidding? It was one of them that had me drinking mocktails.”

“Really?” Agathe grins.

“Yeah, but then he got kinda drunk, and the last couple he made me were just disgusting because he thought these awful mixtures would be a really good idea.”

She laughs gently. “Well, it seems like it’s not the worst. ‘He’ isn’t Robbe?”

Sander shakes his head. “No, but one of his friends.”

“And what about Robbe, then? How is he?”

“Good.” A soft smile steals over his face. “The best, as always.”

“Treating you well.”

Sander’s smile widens, and he raises his brows without saying anything.

Agathe points at him. “Not what I meant, and not what I need to know.”

“I thought we can talk about whatever I want in here,” Sander says innocently.

“Alright, then,” she acquiesces. “Tell me all about it.”

Sander blanches. He thinks about it, opens his mouth, and then thinks about it some more. Closes his mouth again.

Her smile is downright devious. “That’s what I thought.”

He huffs. “It’s very healthy, just so you know.”

“I am sure.”

“Explorative. Always consenting, of course. Frequent.”

“All very normal and well for teenage boys,” she nods, and it would be completely serious if Sander couldn’t see her eyes twinkling. She pauses. “Although, I can’t call you that anymore. How does it feel to be twenty?”

Sander narrows his eyes. “Nice change of subject.”

“Oh, if you had more to say, please continue. Just a thought that occurred to me, I don’t mean to steer you, you know that.”

He does know that, and it makes him pause, because. How does it feel to be twenty? He realises he hasn’t thought about it. He realises that’s probably a good thing—that he didn’t get stuck on his birthday this year, that it was something he just enjoyed. Maybe it was simply going to sleep next to Robbe that helped, but no anxiety had taken over at the end of the day.

Even after his conversation with Jens. It’s not the most prominent part of the day of Sander’s mind even now. Instead he finds himself tucking his hand into his pocket and grasping Robbe’s key, running his thumb over the already familiar ridges.

He hadn’t even been worrying about his major fuck-up with his assignment. He’s still not.

He’s not really giving himself the chance.

Should he be?

“It feels the same as being nineteen,” he says finally. “I didn’t become a different human in a day, sadly.”

He can see her latching on. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“‘Sadly’?”

“It’s just...a joke.”

“Okay. But why do you think it’s funny?”

It annoys him, because she’s not judgmental. She’s neither amused nor disappointed. Just curious, earnest, all focused and attentive as she gazes calmly, patiently at Sander. Even his attempt at throwing her off, making her awkward, hadn’t shaken her. She remains unfazed, as always. It’s annoying.

“I don’t,” he admits, “I guess. I don’t know what I’d consider it.”

Agathe nods, softening in her understanding, and it makes something twist in his chest. “Are you not happy with the human you are, Sander?”

He gives her a bland look. When she keeps waiting, he shrugs, gesturing at the room.

“I know,” she says gently, “that of course, you feel you would be happier without your illness. But who you are now—what you study, what you’re passionate about, who you surround yourself with, how you live your life day to day. Do you wish all of that was different?”

Sander doesn’t have to think about it quite as much. “No. But I—“

He cuts himself off, hesitating. She raises her brows and nods, prompting him onwards but not pushing. If he really wants to wait her out, she’ll move on.

“I just wish that it was easier,” he says.

She tilts her head. “Easier how?”

“I messed up. At college. I completely missed an assignment because I mixed up the dates with another one.”

She winces in sympathy. “And what happened in that case? Does that mean that assignment is marked as a fail?”

“No,” Sander admits. “He gave me the time I thought I’d have to do it. Marked it down as an extension. It’s due on Friday now.”

“And is it going alright?”

“Yes.”

“You aren’t struggling with it too much?”

“No.”

“Then it seems like a fairly simple mistake. Easy to make and also, thankfully, easy to fix for you. It’s not unusual. But do you see it as an effect or consequence of your illness? Is that why it bothers you?”

Sander is quiet.

She sets her clipboard aside and leans forward, clasping her hands again as she considers him. “You have to remember, Sander, that all humans are not without fault. That regardless of who we are or what we may have to deal with, we will inevitably make mistakes. Not every slip up is a reflection of you, or a sign of failure, of failing health. You’ve actually been doing very well for a long time, now. But this belief, or this worry, that it is taking a hold of you again can sometimes help it take on that direction. Do you know what I mean?”

He takes a moment to absorb the words before nodding, knowing that if he answers too quickly she won’t believe he’s listening. But he does know. He understands. He hates that she’s probably right.

“So in a situation like this,” she continues, “do you not think, that it is more beneficial for you to focus on correcting your mistake and the fact that you have that ability? Not only mentally, but overall. That your professor is so understanding must mean he thinks well of you.”

He shouldn’t ask. He does anyway, quietly. “You don’t think it’s just pity, or something?”

“No,” she huffs. “No, I do not. Did he give you the impression that that was why he was doing it?”

Sander rolls his shoulders, adjusting his position. “No.”

Her smile returns. “I think,” she says slowly, “that this all shows just how well you’re doing. That you can acknowledge your doubts are likely just that—doubts—and that you take responsibility when you mess up and try to rectify it. Do you not think those are all good things? Things just as healthy as your sex life?”

It shocks a laugh out of him, and he sees her eyes crinkle. “Maybe,” he allows. “But it really is very healthy. I don’t know if anything else should be forced to live up to the standard.”

She represses a smile. “I remember there was a time when you would never have even spoken about this in such a kind way.”

She’s right. It still freaks him out, sometimes, the hypersexuality that can be induced by his mania, and it even made him hold back from Robbe after his episode, at the beginning. The last thing he wanted was to freak Robbe out, or disgust him, or make him uncomfortable. Then Robbe had seemed downtrodden for about a week before hesitantly asking Sander if he’d done something wrong or if Sander wasn’t actually attracted to him, and Sander had corrected his doubts and behaviour fairly quickly, because how dare the most beautiful boy in the universe think that?

“How do you feel you’re doing, Sander?” Agathe asks. “Because although I can observe, only you can feel what you feel. If you are genuinely worried, we can talk about it.”

“No,” Sander admits, after a moment. “I think everything is okay, actually.” Which is the best it can ever be, really.

Now her smile is genuinely happy. “I think so, too. And I think, even if it comes about that it’s not, you have a better support than ever. Do you agree?”

That one’s easy. “Yes.”

“It’s important to remember,” she adds, “maybe more than anything else, that if a lapse or an episode or whatever does occur, it’s not the end of the world. It’s also not a reflection of you, or a failure. Bad days, bad weeks, that’s all a part of life, and something we know you’re more than capable of dealing with and getting past. I’ve watched you do it many times before now and it’s an admirable, wonderful thing.”

Sander doesn’t actually know what to say to that. He just swallows, and feels oddly emotional, and offers her a slight nod.

The rest of the session passes in a lighter atmosphere. She lets him ramble about his assignment to alleviate what stress he does feel over it, and they spend the leftover minutes discussing his party.

Sander considers talking to her about the other thing on his mind, but ultimately decides against it. She’s already taught him how to work through that, and he really doesn’t think it will help to be putting it back into open air. Instead he leaves with a fairly upbeat farewell, and heads in the opposite direction from home.

Robbe had texted him about where he was meeting with Yasmina for a study session, and it takes Sander less than ten minutes of walking to get to the small cafe from his appointment. He sees the two of them as soon as he enters, but neither of them notice him, so he moves to the counter to buy himself a coffee before making his way over.

He’s a couple of feet away when Yasmina catches sight of him and offers her bright smile, and then Robbe is looking over his shoulder.

“Hello,” Sander greets them both, grinning as he cups Robbe’s cheek and leans down to kiss the crown of his head. “I can see we’re very busy.”

Robbe has his hand wrapped around Sander’s wrist, preventing him from pulling away. He turns his head and presses a sweet kiss to Sander’s palm, nuzzling lightly against it. Sander lets his fingers slip over and tug gently on the boy’s earring before Robbe tangles their hands together and offers Sander his crinkly smile. “Hi.”

“Not anymore, I guess,” Yasmina says dryly, but she’s still grinning when Sander glances back at her.

He raises his hands; well, his free one. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” He hadn’t, really, he’d just wanted to be here when they were done to take Robbe home. He always likes being in the other boy’s company after a therapy session. Despite them not being quite so heavy at the moment, it’s always draining. Robbe is always able to replenish him with soft touches and soothing kisses, providing Sander with a silent, comforting company.

“Don’t be silly,” Robbe rebukes, predictably, swinging Sander’s hand idly now. “How are you?”

Sander squeezes his hand. “Good. I’m surprised you look so healthy, though.”

Robbe groans and buries his face against Sander’s arm. “Don’t. I’m suffering in silence.” He tilts his head ‘subtly’ at Yasmina.

Yasmina raises her brows at him, somehow managing to look wholly unimpressed and teasing all at once. “At least you can stave it off with sugar and coffee.”

Robbe has the sense to look sheepish, ducking his head in a nod. “You’re right, sorry, sorry.” He lets out a sigh. “You’re on too high of a level for me, Yasmina.”

“Queen shit,” Sander agrees, just to earn one of the girl’s unimpressed glances for himself. “Should I run now?”

She rolls her eyes. “Just sit down and drink your coffee. And keep your hands to yourself, if you can manage it? I still need my study partner, thank you.”

Sander grins and obeys, swinging a seat from the next table around to join them, dropping into it happily. He doesn’t place it as close to Robbe’s as he’d like, but Robbe leans into him for a moment anyway before refocusing his attention on his friend.

For the first while, Sander is content to listen and sip his coffee, feeling tiredness begin to creep into his bones. He lets his head loll against his own shoulder, trailing his eyes over Robbe’s profile and drifting into a sort of daydream. He can see the boy’s lips moving, but he has no idea what either of them are saying. They only let out the occasional comment, trading questions and answers and sighs and mutters. Robbe’s eyes are still red and a little puffy, a sign of his lingering exhaustion. He rubs at them absently as he looks down at his book and lets out another sigh, and leaves an eyelash on his cheek.

Sander reaches out and gently swipes it away with his thumb, an entirely mindless action that has Robbe looking at him in surprise before breaking out into a smile. He catches Sander’s hand before Sander can withdraw it completely, laying it on the table next to him. Instead of holding it, Robbe runs his hand along Sander’s sleeve, rubbing the soft seam between his fingers as he continues his work.

For some reason, it makes Sander blush. He’s sure his smile is unbearably happy, and he flicks a glance at Yasmina just to make sure she doesn’t know, only to catch her eye. She’s already smiling at him, and she purses her lips and raises her brows, teasing. Sander pulls a face at her, and she simply shakes her head as her smile widens.

“Can you work on your assignment while you’re waiting for us?” Robbe questions suddenly, drawing Sander’s attention back with a tilt of his head.

Sander glances at his bag, which he’s carried with him all day since he had to go straight to his session from a class. He considers for a moment but ultimately shakes his head. With yesterday being an exception, he usually prefers working at night—and when it’s not cutting into time he could otherwise spend admiring Robbe. “I’ll work on it when I go home,” he promises. Then, because he can’t help himself, “You’re too distracting.”

Robbe’s grin is small, and exasperated, but he yearns towards Sander, leaning across the table. Sander meets him and presses a quick kiss to his lips, then his nose, his cheek, before resolutely sitting back and waving at the textbooks and notes strewn in front of them. Robbe’s grin turns into a pout for half a second before he squeezes Sander’s wrist and focuses again.

Sander sinks back with a sigh, enjoying the feeling of Robbe’s fingers brushing against his wrist and skimming his hand, but he doesn’t feel quite as settled. There’s a prickle skittering over his neck, and he looks to his side and finds a woman staring at him.

Her nose is screwed, and there’s a vague curl to her lip. The disgust in her expression only heightens as Sander meets her eye and she flicks her gaze down to where Robbe’s hand rests over his. Sander can only stare back, dumbfounded.

When she looks at his face again, he raises his brows, as utterly bored as he can manage, and it only takes a moment for her to look away and get out of her seat across the cafe.

Sander tenses as she gets closer, hand enclosing around Robbe’s entirely, but she merely offers him another look before leaving. He deflates, squeezing Robbe’s fingers. It’s only when Robbe squeezes back that he panics again and quickly looks at the boy. But Robbe is in the middle of asking Yasmina a question, neither of them having noticed a thing.

“I meant to wish you a happy birthday,” Yasmina says, breaking him out of the moment. His mind has fogged over, and it takes him a moment to process the words. By then, she’s already moving on. “How was the party, anyway?”

Robbe and Sander share a look, and Yasmina waits. “Jens hardly said a word to me the whole day,” Robbe tells Sander, but he seems more amused than upset, so Sander allows himself to laugh.

“You didn’t tell him we didn’t actually do anything?”

“I did!” Robbe raises his hands. “He didn’t believe me.”

“What, what did you do to Jens?” Yasmina asks, confused. Then, after a second, “You know what, no, I probably don’t want to know.”

She cringes, and Robbe apologises profusely as Sander bursts into laughter, the weird incident from moments ago already forgotten.

Totally forgotten.

~^~

previous/next

[paper-n-ashes]

sparks and embers - chapter 3

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 3 - The Return

Words: 4k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: medical descriptions and procedures, some sexual themes - mainly in the form of OC being thirsty AF

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

~

On the way back from the East village, filled with the Gossams, humans and other alien species who had similarly escaped to a simpler life, I couldn’t help but curse at myself for giving in so easily to the pleas of a good-looking stranger.

Aiding someone merely for their physical appearance? How horribly unprofessional.

The voice in the back of my mind was loud. And curiously judgemental.

It had been over a full day cycle since I’d departed the clinic, making Poe vow to remain within the confines of his bed until I had returned. I’d left him with enough food for two days of my travelling, hygiene supplies, a drip running slowly for some pain relief and range of tools for him to attempt getting BB-8 up and running, hoping he wouldn’t have any reason to struggle getting out of bed.

The thought of his still fragile femur bone breaking and splitting the artery I’d spent all my energy on mending was beyond frightening. I worried about him every minute I was awake, imagining any number of complications that would leave me a corpse to find when I arrived back.

Bleeding, clots, stroke, infection, sepsis.

It wasn’t easy to slip those thoughts from my mind in the lone starkness of the Raxus countryside. There wasn’t really anything to look at except grass and sky, nothing to distract me from the worst case scenarios.

I’d convinced some of my old patients to join my cause, promising them better medicine and equipment if I was only able to have a comm-tower to order everything I needed. It didn’t seem like lying. The comm-tower really was my only link to the rest of the galaxy, and I would have needed it fixed anyway. Only now, time seemed to be more of the essence.

After spending the night amongst the locals I had grown to be familiar with over the last few years, I’d begun the trek back with the knowledge at least one problem had been solved. Some promised spare parts, others were going to follow my path within the next day cycle to get my comm-link back online. I hadn’t divulged all the story, at least not the part about this repair job apparently being a determining factor in the fate of the galaxy.

I hadn’t pressed Poe about what that meant exactly. I was used to the Resistance and their soldiers having somewhat of a flair for the dramatic when it came to war, after healing many of their battle wounds in years past. I knew how fervently they believed in their cause - that they were the only thing standing between galaxy wide harmony and First Order dictatorship.

I understood their hope of peace in our lifetime, but I’d lost mine a long time ago. Good, bad, they were just two sides of a coin that would flip for eternity, desperately chasing power for their own reasons.

In truth, I didn’t particularly care. I just hoped to live my life somewhat free from the burden of picking a side.

*

Before unlocking the clinic door, my feet aching from hiking for 6 straight hours, I drew in a long breath with a silent prayer I wouldn’t be walking in to find a dead body. With a fluid motion I turned the handle and pushed the door open, my head popping in first around the entryway to where Poe’s hospital bed stood. He immediately heard the latch clicking and shot his head up to meet with my eyes.

“You’re back,” he smiled, as I noted how much colour had returned to his face during my absence.

He looked so much better.

For the first time, I found myself studying his face, my stare tracing from his strong angular jawline to his high cheekbones, the prominence of his nose, the whiskey colour of his large cheerful eyes, his tousled deep brown hair. Then I took in his wide grin, shapely pink lips curled upwards to show perfectly set white teeth.

Stars, he’s so handsome.

In the muddle of memories I’d conceived from the night of his crash I’d not recognised, at least not during the time I was struggling to keep him alive, how attractive he was. And now with his health a far better picture than the last time I’d seen him, it was all I could notice. My heart quivered through a beat as he beamed at me, soon realising his smile was more a reflection of the prospective good news I brought with my return, making it settle back into a normal rhythm.

“Hi,” I breathed, walking closer and setting my pack down at the foot of the hospital bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he answered, “The smaller burns are almost gone, and my chest wound is closed, look!” He pulled up the grey hospital shirt I’d managed to change him into before I had to leave. This time when I saw the nakedness of his chest and abdomen I couldn’t help but stare at his softly defined muscles, all tensing during his movement. He was right, the hole below his rib now sealed, a newly-formed, pink scar in its place. The chest tube was still secured above it, now redundant.

“Gotta love bacta,” I hummed. “I can take that drain out now if you like.”

He looked at me incredulously. “You’ve just done a 30 hour round trip for me, not even sat down, and you want to dive head first into more treatment?”

“I... uh... I mean... I just wanted to help you feel better,” I stammered.

Poe shook his head, smirking. “It’s okay, I appreciate it. Really, I do. But I’m alright, the tube can wait. How about you rest for a second and tell me how the mission- I mean, trip, went?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Two days ago you were begging me to get going so I couldn’t waste any time, now you’re telling me I can take a load off?”

"Uh, yeah… Sorry about that,” he grimaced. “Having some time to think while you were gone... It made me realise everything you’d done and were doing for me - a stranger you had no reason to help." Poe took a long exhale before speaking again, his tone serious. "I was in a lot of pain, just woken up in a strange place. It’s still imperative to get a message back to the Resistance as soon as possible but... that’s not your burden to bear. I can't thank you enough for your help, but I'll try not to ask too much more of you.”

It seemed not only had his physical health improved, but logical thought and patience had returned.

I took my cue to sit on one of the opposite hospital beds, letting my feet dangle over the edge to kick my shoes off, feet pulsing with gratitude at their release. “There’s some villagers coming tomorrow,” I started. “They will hopefully have a new comm-tower up and running within the next couple of days. I told them about your droid too. There’s some spare parts in that bag.” I pointed my hand out to the satchel at Poe’s feet, glancing at the L shaped table beside his bed I’d set up. BB-8 was sitting on top of it, head and body still separated and now unbolted at separate points, wires haphazardly sticking out in different directions. Falling back into the mattress, I let out an exhausted sigh, relishing the feel of the squeaky mattress under my body.

“I really owe you. The Resistance owes you,” Poe praised after a few moments of silence, as I heard him begin to rummage through the satchel. I held back a frown, even when I knew he wouldn’t be able to catch sight of my face.

I didn’t do any of this for the Resistance.

It occurred to me then I wasn’t really sure why I’d done it at all. I had always been a sucker for those in poor predicaments, hence why I became a doctor in the first place. But the trek had nothing to do with treatment or medicine. It was purely at the behest of this pilot, who’s charming appearance in the dimmed orange light of the evening made my skin feel hot.

“So, how did a girl like you find herself in the middle of nowhere on the Outer Rim?” Poe questioned, fiddling with some of the parts.

I sat back up. “I’m not a girl. I’m 28. That’s a little too old to be called girl anymore.”

Poe chuckled, the sound of his laugh both warming and positively thrilling. “I apologise. How did a woman like you end up here?”

“I used to work on Coruscant, that’s where I started my medical training,” I explained, remembering the glittering planet I’d spent much of my young life on. “Then moved into the war relief efforts on medical frigates scattered throughout the galaxy. Treating wounded soldiers day in day out took its toll, having people constantly injured and almost dying for a war they didn’t start.” I glanced to Poe's expression, seeing a glow of understanding behind his eyes before I continued. “Plus, there were more than a few times I felt a little redundant. The medical droids they have kind of... made my treatment obsolete. I wanted to practice medicine in a place where adequate health care was rare or non-existent. I wanted to help those who were most desperate, who otherwise couldn’t afford it, those who would actually value the care of a live human doctor. So I picked a planet at random, and settled here."

The random part was an utter lie. No one had cared about Raxus since the Clone Wars, and the First Order wouldn’t make it their priority to conquer Outer Rim worlds for a while yet. It was a quiet, calm planet with countless refugees fleeing here to make peaceful new lives. They wouldn’t be concerned about old, rusty equipment, lower quality bacta or no medical droids. They would simply be happy at having a doctor within a day’s trek.

And no one would think of looking here for a Force user.

Poe studied me in quiet thought for a moment, taking in what I’d divulged. “Well, they're damn lucky, with how nicely you patched me up. You’d run circles around some of the doctors and medical droids at the Resistance base.” He grinned at me again, earnestly, another attempt to thank me for my work. I felt the pit of my stomach tense, and it wouldn’t retreat, the thought of his smile lingering in my mind even after he’d gone back to his tinkering.

It had to be because I’d been in isolation for so long, why I was reacting so strongly to the innocent smiles and compliments of a man I barely knew. I definitely wasn’t used to conversing with men so close in age to my own. Most of the local humans were older, married with children, and I rarely made conversation around any other topic than their illnesses.

“What... uh... Why were you flying over Raxus?” I asked awkwardly.

His eyebrows creased together as he looked back at me. “Raxus wasn’t my destination, but I... can’t tell you any more than that.”

“Oh…”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he urged. “It’s just, you know, highly confidential.” He seemed apologetic, like he owed me more of an explanation.

I nodded, agreeing the less I knew about the Resistance and their missions the better. “Well, you’ll be able to get back to it in a couple of days,” I insisted, breaking the awkward silence that had lingered. “Some time and a little bit more bacta and you’ll be like new again.”

“Actually, speaking of that,” he started, an uneasy expression now settling in his features. “I was wondering when you were thinking of letting me get out of this bed.”

“Depends on the reason Poe. I’d recommend starting your formal rehab tomorrow at the absolute earliest, otherwise we can get you up and walking if you need to do something… uh… specific.” There was no hiding the waver in my voice.

He laughed, louder than he had before, the sound making it difficult for me not to blush. “Aren’t you a doctor? Why are you embarrassed for me to use the bathroom?”

“Hey!” I frowned. “I was trying to save you from being embarrassed.”

He shook his head, still chuckling. “I’m alright on that front for now. I was actually hoping to use your refresher. It’s been a few days…”

“Oh of course!” I’d cleaned him up as much as I could before I’d left, getting rid of his obliterated flight suit and helping change into the bland hospital outfit I reserved for overnighters, but even to myself the idea of a shower was enticing.

A thought flashed into my mind of steaming water hitting Poe’s sun darkened skin, trickling down his toned body as he lathered himself in soap suds.

Woah.

Okay.

That was new.

It had been such a long time since I’d felt the fire of blood rushing to the lower portion of my abdomen, insides clenching at the heat so suddenly ignited.

Poe was looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue. I internally shook away the incriminating thoughts before they could be conveyed on my face. “How about I get that chest tube out first? Then I can help you to the ‘fresher?”

He breathed out in relief. “That would be fantastic.”

I stepped lightly off the hospital bed, walking shoe-less over to my medical trolley to drag it back to Poe’s side. And immediately, without me asking, he sat up and began a haphazard attempt to pull off his shirt, left arm bandaged and stiff, right arm enveloped in the cast I’d made and evidently still painful to move.

In a wordless reply, I helped him pull the fabric over his head, confronted with the image of a half-naked, strikingly handsome man in front of me.

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t recognised any of his raw allure when he’d been almost stripped completely bare by my own hands on the night of his crash. It seemed bizarre I wouldn’t have noted the strong, broadness of his shoulders, his armoured chest littered deliciously with dark hair, carved abdominal muscles tensed in waiting.

I swallowed hard, hoping Poe wouldn’t register my shaking hands as I prepared the tube removal kit. Snipping the sutures around the plastic, unsteady gloved fingers pulled out the tube as smoothly as I could manage, Poe flinching slightly at the sensation. He continued to look away as I injected some bacta gel into the wound, sealing it closed with a few new sutures and placing a waterproof dressing over the site.

“All done,” I settled. “Like nothing happened at all.”

Poe looked back to me and smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was obvious he remained troubled by the memories of his crash, and understandably so. I’d seen the same look in many other military personnel, the attempt to put on a brave face when images of fire, blood and terror pierced their thoughts. I desperately wanted to take his mind to a brighter place. “So, ready to try walking?”

“Absolutely! Lead the way doc.”

Ugh. Eventually I would have to correct him on that.

I stepped back from the side of the bed, arms stretched in readiness for when he inevitably stumbled. “Please take it slowly. Your muscles aren’t going to be pleased with what you’re doing after over two days of bed rest.”

“Sure thing,” Poe scoffed.

Typical male.

Initially he seemed to take my direction, moving his legs slowly from under the blanket, pain now registering on his features. He swivelled himself sluggishly to let his legs fall over the side of the mattress, breathing slightly heavier to push through the discomfort.

He was leaning more on his left side, right arm hovering over his thigh. Tentatively, he slipped his left foot onto the floor and shifted his weight onto it, pushing his hand into the mattress to help himself up.

Soon he was standing in front of me for the first time since we’d met, and even amongst all the burns, bruises, dressings and bandages, he looked impossibly strong, toned muscles wrapping his form.

He noticed the timid smile form on my lips.

“Hey don’t start laughing at me. I don’t think I could handle my ego being bruised along with the rest of me.”

“Oh... I wasn’t-,” I stumbled, quietly relieved he’d misread the reason behind my smirk.

He held his hand up in protest, grinning. “I was kidding. You’re welcome to laugh at the adult sized toddler learning to walk again.”  

It was difficult not to snicker at his words. “Come on,” I encouraged. “Just think of how nice that hot water will feel.”

He sighed in agreement and moved, taking a hesitant step onto the previously fractured leg. I swiftly froze with anxiety, even when the logical side of my brain told me both the break and the artery would have stabilised exponentially by now. But the emotional side, the part that remembered the rush of blood that had exploded from the wound site, nagged incessantly at me, insisting that this was a very bad idea.

My eyes were glued to Poe’s figure as he shifted his weight deliberately, muscles tensing at the trigger of pain he was likely feeling, before he made a delicate hop to move back onto his left leg.

Even that one haggard step appeared to take a lot out of him, but he seemed determined, eyebrows already wrinkled in concentration.  He continued the process a few times over, my arms still poised in waiting for the foreseeable stumble as I walked backwards. I couldn’t help but hold my breath as he limped, following me out of the clinic room into the hallway that lead to my office, the ‘fresher, and my living quarters all the way at the end.

His steps became faster, more confident, when all of a sudden, his balance wavered.

Reacting quickly, I stepped forward to catch him, arms circling under his own and around his torso, hands now gripping the muscles on his back as he crashed into me. I would have stayed there for a moment, my fingertips registering the warmth radiating off his skin, until I became fully aware where his face had fallen into.

I felt Poe’s heated exhale through the cotton of my white shirt after his face had collided into my chest, directly between my breasts. The twinge in my lower abdomen occurred again, breath hitching in my throat.

He scrambled to push himself back into a standing position, my arms releasing from around him, his hands clamping around my biceps as he fought to reclaim his steadiness again.

“I am so sorry!” he blurted, his face dangerously close to mine, only a small touch of redness visible under his caramel skinned cheeks. I knew my blushing would be much more pronounced.

“It’s okay,” I breathed. “I was waiting for that to happen.”

His eyes widened.

“Not that!” I yelped. “I meant you falling! I was waiting for you to fall!”

Poe’s face illuminated into a beaming grin. “Sure you did.”

I frowned in protest, but couldn’t stop the chuckle escaping. I shifted to face the same way as him, an arm curling around his torso, angling my body under his own. “How about I help you the rest of the way?”

His hand gripped onto my shoulder, the hardened squeeze making the tensing inside me ripple even faster.

Focus Alex.

Poe let me support him as he limped down the hallway, and I desperately tried to distance myself from the thoughts that swirled in my mind at being connected so closely.

Eventually we made it into the ‘fresher, a white and grey tiled room with the large, frameless shower enclosure taking up most of the space, the only privacy a plastic curtain that could be pulled across the entire spans of the room. I’d designed it with the idea there would be enough space to assist overnighter patient’s in washing themselves, since I didn’t have a nurse to do it for me. Yet, it still gave me the ability to provide some discretion by stepping out past the other side of the curtain, ready to swoop in if I was needed.

And that’s what I’d planned for Poe, knowing he was hardly the type of patient that was going to let me do anything for him if he could help it. Guiding him to the backless shower chair, I released him to his own devices and quickly pulled the curtain across. It was more for my own concealment at this point, needing to take a moment to settle myself down, the memory of his hold still lingering on my skin.

“I’ll be right here if you need any help okay? Everything you need will be on the shelf under the shower start button.”

“Thanks Alex,” he answered, his voice huffing out as I could hear he’d already started to shimmy down his pants.

Stop imagining it Alex. Stop thinking about him naked, a metre away, behind that thin curtain.

The sound of water rushing into the tile floor pulled me back into some impression of reality. I busied myself with organising my own hygienic supplies in the mirrored cupboard, desperately trying to think of anything other than the man hidden from my view, steam swirling around his figure, water dribbling down his bare skin. From behind the screen I heard a pleasant moan leave him, obviously enjoying the hot water battering into his aching muscles for the first time in days.

And with that sound I felt a twinge between my legs, heat swelling and rippling outwards through my body.

Stars, that was... hot.

It felt so unprofessional, to be tantalized by the thought of a man, a patient, in the middle of such a basic act of human hygiene. But I couldn’t deny he was more attractive than any patient I’d ever had in my life, and the thought of ripping open the curtain so I could join him was suddenly the most tempting thing in the galaxy.

I locked my hands onto the basin that stood in front of me, trying not to be overwhelmed by the sound of Poe lathering soap between his hands, then sliding over an unseen portion of his body.

It was then I started to pace, hoping the repetitive movement would stop me ruminating over the indecent notions my mind was conjuring. Minutes ticked by too slowly as I waited for him to finish his routine, begging for the irresistible pull of craving to be released from me.

“Hey Alex?” Poe suddenly called.

“What's wrong?” I squeaked, cursing at myself for sounding so startled.

“I actually need some help.”

Oh maker, why do you do this to me?

I swallowed hard. “Y-yeah. Sure. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he began, voice sounding a little forced. “It’s just... with my left arm still bandaged, and my right arm still in the cast, I can’t wash my hair. I know it’s a little strange, but could you help me out?”

My heart ricocheted inside my rib cage, frolicking at the thought of seeing him soaked in water, fingers raking through his dampened hair.

Come on Alex, try to keep at least one shred of professionalism.

“Sure,” I agreed, a more competent tone saturating my voice as I withheld my internal fluttering. “Make yourself… uh… decent, and I’ll open the curtain.”

I heard Poe’s movement as he reached for one of the towels hanging on the rail nearby and wrapped it around his lower body. The flowing water soon came to a stop, the sudden silence making me feel uneasy.

“Ready.”

I placed myself in front of the curtain between us, his stature only barely visible through the clouded screen. My jaw was locked as I took a deep breath through my nose, meditating in thought, frantically clawing at a sense of calm.

Then I reached towards the plastic, clenched my hand around it, and pulled.

~

Next Chapter

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[not-using-this1]

Sleepless Night ~N.Romanoff~

So this oneshot has kinda been sitting in my drafts on wattpad and on here for quite a while. I thought why not upload it after I rewrite it to make it better than it was, I’d say I haven’t touched this one since last October (oops) but here is this oneshot rewritten, pretty proud of this one (Again this is based off the gamerverse Nat hehe but I couldn’t find a gif for her just chilling so..)

Natasha Romanoff x Inhuman!reader :)

Natasha catches you in the HARM room at one in the morning. Concerned about how you barely sleep, she confronts you about it. (Reader has the ability to create/manipulate fire) You tell her the reason as to why you’ve been struggling, she’s there for you in a heartbeat.

Just Natasha being a huge softie :)

Warnings: mention of sex only briefly for like a sentence, 18+, the rest of this is just fluff

Word count: Around 1500 

Natasha' POV

Like usual, I could barely get some sleep. It has been like that for a long time. But tonight was different. Currently it was one a.m. I highly doubted that most of the others were asleep right now but the atmosphere around the chimera felt peaceful, for once instead of hectic.

Walking out of my room, I decided to just take my usual late night walk (or early morning walk, whatever anyone wants to call it). Heading to the back of the Chimera I couldn't help but here the sounds of someone practising in the HARM room.

It's not very often that someone is doing this, especially at this time. Walking through the door that led to the room, a simulation was of course going on.

That's when I saw Y/n, beating the shit out of aim forces with her power to control fire. The poor woman had barely been getting any sleep it seemed, she looked exhausted and I knew how it felt to be that way.

Sighing I walk into the room "Jarvis, stop the simulation" I speak up. He complies and shuts it down. Y/n let out a frustrated sigh and turned towards me, my arms folded holding my ground. "Why'd you do that, Tasha. I was on a roll." Y/n complained as she walks towards me, unimpressed.

I sighed "For starters, it's one in the morning and you need to sleep. I have noticed you haven't slept in three days." I reply. I'm genuinely concerned for her health, she really needs to get some sleep.

"You’re telling me to sleep? You haven't slept in a while either." Yes, that was true but we weren't here to talk about me "besides I'm fine. I can still go on missions and be energetic, so why'd you care?" Wow that was harsh, the why'd you care part but Natasha totally gets it, she checks up on everyone from time to time of course but they just don't know it for some reason and she is quite direct.

"I check up on everyone but you guys just don't know it." I add with a light chuckle. I go back to being all serious, I need her to know that sleeping is important but I want to know why she hasn't been sleeping in the first place. "Come with me." I casually add as gesture for her to follow me, Y/n shruggs her shoulders and follows behind me.

I go straight into my room on the Chimera, she doesn't question me (at least not yet) I gesture her to sit down beside me on my bed. "So, are you gonna tell me what we're doing in your room, Romanoff?" There's the question but I sensed a little flirtation from her as she said my last name, I gave her a small smile. "What's been keeping you awake?" I asked her, Y/n looked at me she seemed worried about the question as if she didn't want to answer it because I might judge her but I never could.

"It's stupid, there's no need." Y/n replies looking away from me for a few seconds and then looking down at her knees. She was nervous but what for exactly?

"Whatever it is, it's not stupid. You know I won't judge you." I tried to speak a bit softer, suddenly grabbing one of her hands in mine which shocked up both, she gave me a small smile, her hand squeezed mine slightly.

"Something has been on my mind lately and I've been struggling to sleep because of it. I just can't get it out of my mind and every time I try it just doesn't work, thanks to a certain woman on the chimera. I get these conflicting feelings and it gets me so confused and unfocused but I just couldn't tell anyone because I thought that they would yell at me." 

I listened carefully to what Y/n had to say, come to think of it she had seemed rather off these last three days, especially on missions. It made me miss her ridiculous jokes, puns and silly flirtation, I want that Y/n back and I would do anything to get her back to her normal self. "What do you think could make us all hate you? We love you."  

Y/n looked at me, didn't break any eye contact, it looked as if she was on the verge of breaking down, my thumb started brushing her hand as I held it, silently telling her that it would be okay. None of us could ever hate her no matter what.

"I like girls, like love them and I also like this woman in particular- I shouldn't have said-"

"No, it's okay. If it makes you feel any better, Tony' bisexual, Cap is just as confused about himself but lets be honest he likes Tony even if they argue. Yelena is an asexual lesbian. The list goes on." I paused. I was thinking about what I wanted to say about myself. I like men but I also like women although I have never had a relationship with a woman I know I like them because I have had sex with a few before my time as an Avenger. "And me, well I like women to."

Y/n gave me another smile, she seemed a lot happier when I mentioned what I just did about everyone including me. "Wow, I never knew these things. I'm feeling somewhat better but there' something else. This woman I like."

I nodded my head and let go of her hand, I was silent and waiting for her to mention who it was or at least give me a describtion sometimes it helps talking about who you love but sometimes it can hurt, in this case I'm hoping it won't hurt Y/n.

"Well she's very badass, can kick ass very well, looks good while doing it, actually she looks good while doing anything. She's around 5'5, looks very intimidating but is an actual amazing person although she won't admit it. She's drop dead gorgeous, pale blue eyes, I love her personality, her body is just so perfect. May or may not have walked in on her naked once and has red hair and-

I listened to every detail she gave me, only to realise at the 'walked in on her naked' part was actually me. I didn't know how to react until I decided to shut her up by pushing her down on my bed and straddling her waist "Oh, and did I mention she has fast movement?" Y/n lets out a gasp as I pushed her down on the bed but she then chuckles and smirks at me. "You think all of this about me?" I whisper to the young woman under me "Duh, now-

"Shut up" I interrupted her, she raised an eyebrow at me in question but I ignored it and pulled her in for a kiss. The kiss was quite sloppy at first because it was something that the both of us seemed to need after a long time of avoiding these feelings (because I also like her). Pulling away she had the biggest smile on her face.

"So I take it, the feelings mutual?”

"Yes dorogoy, lets just get some sleep. Okay?" Just as I was about to get off her and lay next to her, Y/n pulled me back in for another kiss "I'd much rather stay up." She cheekily smirks as she pulls away, wrapping her arms around my neck and clutching onto me.

"Y/n" I rolled my eyes at her, her grip on me loosend enough for me to get off her. I press a kiss to her cheek and we both get under my covers, she backs up slightly more to me and I put my arm around her stomach to keep her close to me "This isn't some dream is it?" She whispered.

~~~

It had been a good thirty minutes and we had just layed there in silence, just as I was about to finally get to sleep with the woman I loved in my arms, finally. She had broken the silence.

Y/n' POV

I really couldn't sleep, I had forgot to mention to Nat that  had atleast two coffee' before I decided to stay up in the HARM room as well as stressing about the fact that I was confused over my sexuality and the fact I like her, I was so happy she liked me back and now here we are, laying in her bed, her arms wrapped around me.

"Nat, I can't sleep. I had two coffee' and I still have a lot of energy." I heard her sigh, I didn't even bother turning around to face her "Y/n, please just try. I was about to fall asleep."

I sighed and shut my eyes trying again but it just wouldn't work "You can sleep ya know. I'll go back to my room and-

I felt Nat' lips on my neck, pressing a few light kisses to my skin "No, you're here now and I don't want to let you go."

Wow that was cheesy even for Natasha "Okay, I don't want to either."

[titularkilljoy]

Black Coffee

Summary: Spencer had changed since prison. And no one seems to be able to help.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Strong language, mental health struggles, angst

Author’s note: Inspired by this post. Also, this is my first time writing for a fandom. So, don’t be gentle. Be brutally honest. 

Spencer was different these days. On that much, everyone could agree.

Everyone on the team walked on eggshells around him now, myself included. It wasn’t that we didn’t want to be there for our friend who had just gotten out of a three-month stint in prison; it was quite the opposite. All of us were waiting with bated breath for an opportunity to help. None of us wanted him to bottle up all his frustration and end up throwing books at the bureau walls again. As it was, he refused to acknowledge it or talk about it, and as a result, we all talked around it, trying to profile him without making it too obvious; trying to help him without him catching on to the fact that we were trying to help him. All in all, it was a Herculean feat. Every time he detected the slightest ounce of what he deemed to be pity, you could see his hackles raise, and an impenetrable barrier would form around him. That was incredibly unpleasant for everyone involved.

Spencer and I had been close, once. Extremely close. We had confided in each other about everything. I think he had always appreciated the fact that I never treated him like an all-knowing alien or a socially awkward little brother. It probably helped that my feelings for him were far from brotherly. But he didn’t need to know that.

Regardless, our close bond seemed to be a thing of the past. I had been there to welcome him back to the outside world on the day he was released. My heart was fuller than it had ever been, with love and relief and grief, and I had thrown my arms around him without a word. He had been stiff in my embrace for a few seconds before I felt the familiar warmth of his arms clutching me tightly. I had sighed deeply. I had missed his touch.

Since then, however, he had shut himself off. I had tried to give him space, to let him resolve those issues , which he clearly did not want to speak to me about, on his own. When that didn’t seem to work, I decided on a more hands-on approach.

For a week, I had been trying to muster the courage to follow through on that decision. But every time I tried to broach the matter, the emptiness of his gaze and the rigid set of his shoulders would stop the words in my throat. I felt like I was trying to speak to a stranger. Worse than that– I knew how to deal with traumatized victims and witnesses. Spencer was neither of those and both of those at once. Besides that, he was the ghost of my best friend. Every conversation felt like trying to breathe new life into a relationship long gone dead and cold.

Right now, he was alone in the break room. On the surface, he seemed to be going about his routine like a normal person. But to the trained eye, it was horrifying. Because he was pouring himself some coffee. A black coffee. With one sugar. Knowing him like I did, the sight was bleak, and it spurred me into action.

I set my shoulders and walked into the room. He lifted his head and nodded at me in greeting. I sidled over to the counter and set my gaze firmly on the pot of coffee as it if contained all the secrets of the universe. He leaned against the counter, staring at the opposite wall while blowing on his coffee. I cleared my throat. There was a palpable tension in the air. Maybe it was just me. He certainly didn’t seem bothered. I, however, was choking on it.

“Spencer,” I tentatively began, “I was thinking, maybe we should talk?”

I cringed at my own words even as I said them. I’d spent a week working on this and the best I could do was some sitcom staple dialogue?

Spencer’s eyes darted over to me, brow furrowing in curiosity. “About what? Is this about the case?”

“No. No, it’s not about the case.”

That seemed to be the wrong answer. He heaved a frustrated sigh and rubbed a hand over his face.

“(Y/N), we really don’t have time for–-“

Another deflection. Except this time, I was expecting it, and wouldn’t accept it.

“Yes, we have time, Spencer. We’ve apprehended the suspect. We saved a victim. Today we’re doing paperwork”, I pointed out, “and this is definitely more important than paperwork.”

“If this is a personal matter then we shouldn’t be talking about it here anyway,” he said in a clipped tone. He was getting defensive.

“You’re right, Spencer.” That took him by surprise, and I was rewarded with his grudging attention.

“You’re right. This conversation shouldn’t be happening here. Except, you’ve been dodging my calls for a month. You pretend you’re not home when I show up at your apartment. You won’t even say a word to me that isn’t about work.” I let the frustration I felt bleed into my words; he needed to know this wasn’t a profiler’s attempt to poke and prod at his psyche. It was just me, and I wanted my best friend back.

“I’ve been busy,” he hedged, but there was a trace of guilt in his eyes. He had never liked seeing me hurt, after all.

“Don’t lie to me, Spencer,” I practically begged, “You’re shutting me out. I know you’re struggling. It’s so damn obvious that you’re struggling. I just want to help you. I hate seeing you like this.”

“I’m not asking you to! And I don’t need your help,” he spat with a scowl. “I’m not struggling. I can do this job just as well as you or anyone else on the team can, if not better.”

The sting from those words was overshadowed by my incredulity. “Are you serious? Spencer, this isn’t about the fucking job!” I cried in frustration. “This is about you. I care about you. You’re in pain, and I don’t understand why you won’t let me help. You used to tell me everything.”

He let out a dark chuckle, placing the mug back on the counter and standing up straight. For the first time in what felt like forever, he stared right into my eyes. Except I would have given anything not to be on the receiving end of that stare. It was so full of malice and bitterness; it was so unlike my Spencer.

“You’re so fucking transparent,” he began in a low tone, and my eyebrows shot up in surprise. Spencer wasn’t usually one for expletives, especially not at work.

“You claim to be worried about me, but you’re really only worried about yourself. You’re lonely, and you can’t form a real connection with anyone. Now that you don’t have me as your emotional crutch, you’re projecting those issues onto me. Typical.”

My jaw dropped against my will. “Spencer, that’s not fair,” I managed to whisper around the lump in my throat. But he wasn’t done yet. Nostrils flaring, he towered over me menacingly.

“Oh, it’s not fair. What isn’t fair is you trying to jeopardize my already precarious position at the FBI by bringing this kind of petty drama into my life. Not everything is about you.”

“I never said it was!” I practically yelled, shocked into anger.

“Yes, but you clearly think it is. You’re not actually worried about me. You just want things to go back to normal. You want me to be the old Spencer again. Sweet, naïve Spencer who would have gladly let you string him along for his entire life. Admit it.”

“String you along? What the fuck are you talking about? How about the other way around? And it’s fucking rich that you’re accusing me of not being able to form a meaningful connection when you’re the one who’s so scared that we’re going to reject you that you’ve completely shut us out. Your fucking family who went through hell and back to get you out. We don’t care that you’re not the same Spencer. No one expects you to be! But I’m sick of all of us talking around the big fat elephant in the room and I’m scared I’m going to find you drugged up and dead on the floor of your apartment one day!”

We were right in each other’s faces at this point, and I was breathing heavily. Surrounding us was a pregnant silence. Spencer’s face had settled into an unreadable mask that I desperately tried to decipher anyway.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was cold as he delivered the killing blow.

“I told you I didn’t want to talk about it. So, I’m not going to talk about it. That’s my decision. You’re not entitled to my confidence, (Y/N). Not anymore. Just leave me alone.”

Every word was well enunciated, and I knew he meant them. He was done with me. When he stormed out of the room, I collapsed back against the counter, trying to call out his name but my vocal cords refusing to cooperate.

I didn’t know how I felt. When your body suffers a massive injury, it numbs you for a while, to protect you. You often don’t even realize you’ve been hurt. But after the numbness fades, your entire body feels like it’s on fire. I supposed that was as good a way as any to explain what was happening to me at that moment. Something so monumental and world-shattering had just occurred that I was being given a few moments of numbness as a reprieve, before the pain would inevitably consume me.

I remained rooted to my position for uncomfortably long time before I realized several pairs of eyes were focused on me, trying and failing to be subtle at it. Overcome with a sudden wave of nausea, I rushed to the restroom. Splashing some cold water in my face, I stared at myself in the mirror.

Well, I thought, that backfired pretty spectacularly.

I closed my eyes and came to the grim realization that prison had left some indelible scars on Spencer. We had all been turning a blind eye to it–- we’d been hoping against all odds that Spencer’s endlessly resilient innocence would be preserved, even in the face of solitary confinement and selective memory loss. After all, the man had literally died and been resurrected, once. He had fought a drug addiction all on his own. He had been parenting his schizophrenic mother since he was a child. He was strong. If anyone could come out of this intact, we had reasoned, it would be Dr Spencer Reid. Being faced with clear evidence to the contrary was a bitter reminder that life always managed to snuff out light and goodness wherever it was found.

I kept my head down on my way to my desk. I made it halfway before I heard Hotch call my name. Garcia was at Morgan’s desk and she offered me an anxious, pitying smile. I didn’t want to acknowledge it. I turned and met his sympathetic yet firm gaze squarely, summoning a confidence I did not feel as I took the detour into his office. What other choice did I have? Life had to go on.

                                ___________________

The next two weeks were tense, to say the least. Spencer and I could barely stand to be on opposite ends of the briefing room with each other. Hotch, perceptive as always, was gracious enough not to pair us up on either of the two cases we worked in that time. I threw myself into the gory details of case files and victimology, refusing to address the fact that I felt like I had lost a limb. I couldn’t succumb to that. Not quite yet, at least. Spencer, for his part, remained inscrutable, although I noticed Morgan and Emily trying to talk to him on more than one occasion. I appreciated their support, but Spencer had made himself very clear. There was nothing anyone could do.

I was dead on my feet when we finally wrapped up the case in Seattle. Derek Morgan needed to learn the meaning of the word “no”, because he still dragged me to some pub I can barely remember the name of. The memory loss could probably be attributed to the blackout drinking I embarked on that night. I drank, downing whiskey shot after whiskey shot until I lost my inhibitions and started giggling and singing along tunelessly to the music, then I drank some more until I felt comfortable enough to dance, and then I kept drinking until I hit the stage where I started sobbing. I usually knew to cut myself off before then. That night, though, my senses seemed to have left me entirely. To curb the sobbing, I drank some more, and that was about the point where I blacked out.

I woke up the next morning in a hotel room, ruing the day I was born, but there was an unopened bottle of water and some aspirin on the table, next to a note from Emily saying she was downstairs with the others. I gingerly caressed my forehead, groaning, before forcing myself out of bed and into the day.

The dark sunglasses I wore did little to make me feel better, and the teasing from Morgan about my alleged shenanigans the previous night did even less to that end. I boarded the jet with a grateful sigh, relieved that I could just curl up and go to sleep.

Alas, that wasn’t what the universe had planned for me, it seemed, because moments after I had nodded off, a hand on my shoulder gently shook me awake. I opened my mouth, ready to yell at whoever it was, but what came out instead was an embarrassing squeak.

Because standing in front of me, clutching a Starbucks cup, was none other than Spencer Reid.

He looked different. Different, and familiar. There was no tightly wound coil. There was no steel in his eyes. There was only warmth.

I eyed the cup in his hands curiously. Had he taken to tempting diabetes with his coffee once again? Had this mess all just been one long sugar crash?

He looked immensely sheepish as he murmured, apparently mindful of my piercing headache, “Can I sit?”

I nodded dumbly, enraptured by the sight of him sinking into the seat across from me, his knees almost knocking into mine. Was I just having a really good dream? Was I still drunk?

“(Y/N),” he whispered, and it felt like I’d travelled back in time. To back before our fight, before prison, before Mr Scratch, before Cat.

“I owe you an apology. Several, actually. I– you have to know that I didn’t mean any of the things I said. I was just lashing out. Textbook defensive behaviour.” He paused, watching me. I just stared back at him. I could only imagine what he saw on my face that made him continue even more gently, if that was even possible.

“You’re my best friend. You always have been. And you were absolutely right when you accused me of being worried about rejection. I- I’m not the same, anymore. I’ve never been particularly fond of myself, but now, I don’t even recognize myself.” He sounded miserable, and all I wanted to do was hug him. I stayed put, though. He looked like he really needed to finish what he had to say.

“I feel…darker, somehow. And I didn’t want to infect you with that. I didn’t want to hurt you. And instead, I hurt you more than I possibly could have if I’d just let you help me. I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry, (Y/N), I–“

“Spencer,” I finally interjected, and slowly, deliberately, reached out and took one of his hands in both of mine. “Yes, you’re an idiot,” I conceded, trying to hold back the relief that was flooding my entire body, “but I’ll forgive you. If you promise you’re not going to pull that shit again. I’m serious, Spencer. You’re hurting yourself, you’re hurting me, you’re hurting the team. We need you. I need you”, I said vehemently, and that was as close to a confession as I would get. At least, for the foreseeable future.

His face told me he heard the unsaid, and the dark guilt clouded his face once again. He was remembering what he’d said to me. String me along, he’d thrown out. Steady determination chased the guilt, and he opened his mouth, but I cut him off.

“No. Not now. You need help. You know how I feel about you. But we can’t right now. It’s not fair to either of us.”

He looked like he was going to protest, but I tried to convey as much sincerity through my eyes as I could. We’ll have our chance, I tried to tell him. I’m not giving up on you, so don’t give up on me, I implored.

Slowly, he nodded. For the first time in half a year, my heart felt light. I knew there would be plenty of hurdles to navigate, but for now, the promise of his company in doing so was enough.

“Besides,” I said seriously, “we need to talk about this bad habit of ours.”

The bafflement on his face was familiar, and I grinned, biting my lip.

“Having these intense conversations in front of everyone in the FBI absolutely has to stop,” I clarified, staring at each of the other people on the jet pointedly. They were doing a very good job of looking busy. Morgan had a smirk on his face. I caught his eye for a second, and we shared a smile.

My comment made Spencer chuckle. “I’ll, uh- I’ll let you get back to your nap then.”

“Oh, thank God,” I groaned dramatically, pulling the blanket over my head to block out the dim light.  It served another purpose; as I listened to the soft cadence of his retreating footsteps, it obscured the smile which threatened to rip my face in two. Morgan would never let me live that down.

[yep-ishouldbesleeping]

Hell hath no fury like a Todoroki scorned

So I’ve seen lots of people analyzing Dabi’s words and his relationship with his siblings (especially Shouto) and I wanted to give my two cents as well because... Why not contribute to the dumster fire, I just feel the need to jump into the chaos, because I hate myself and overthink shit, so here we go :’)

First, I think it hasn’t been said much, but when we see the video Dabi recorded, it’s the first time we see him vulnerable, or at the very least, not with a smug attitude.

He’s bowing with his hands together, much like Shouto during the broadcasting of his dad’s fight with the noumu. I always thought that it was akin to a prayer, like thanking God that his father’s not dead in Shouto’s case, and maybe asking for forgivness to his mother in Dabi’s case. However the position is not exactly right.

Obviously it could be that everyone prays in their own way OR that it’s not praying at all but rather a sort of “comfort position” that the siblings adopt, although I would argue that it looks a little too similar to a praying position to be a coincidence.

I’m pushing on this because:

a) The Todorokis are shown to be a “traditional” family (in the sense that they seem to follow traditions - have a traditional japanese style mansion, have a shrine dedicated to their “dead” child etc.- because on every other front they’re a mess worse than the Kardashians) and

b) Shouto is generally depicted as supersticious (we all remember the whole hand-crusher curse thing... Do we?), so by extension, we can assume that maybe the family is as well, and even Dabi might have retained some of this without really realizing it.

Also, it seems that Dabi bought flowers for Rei, as there is a very obvious lingering on the flowers at the center of the panel with Dabi saying “ I was watching from afar, I wasn’t sure of the room number etc..”, implying that he sent a gift to her.

This, plus his demeanor at the beginning of the recording, suggests to me that he might actually still care for his mom, and that this is his (quite fucked up) way of saying sorry and explaining his reasoning.

(or maybe I’m just too hopeful and reaching ���(ᐛ)ᕗ, we’ll see in the next chapters)

The second thing I’d like to tackle is how he chose to show himself on the video. He doesn’t have a smug expression, he doesn’t look or sound arrogant like he usually is. He’s meek, calm and looking down. He almost seems sad.

He’s willingly bare-chested, so that it shows the full damage his father has done to him, or rather has pushed him to do on himself (the details of his presumed “death” are still a bit iffy, we’ll probably discover more with the next chapters).

Still, it’s awful. It’s grotesque. It must hurt. This is what the n°1 hero has done to his child. These are the physical proofs.

It’s in full display.

Dabi knows that most times, images speak louder than a thousand words, this is a very deliberate “trick” to make his statement stick, to make it all the more powerful.

And he has a right to it obviously. He was a victim of abuse and he has the right to denounce it.

And can we talk about how much it must have fucking hurt, how much it probably still hurts? Not even just the burns but the staples too must be a pain.

If you have any piercings, or even just earrings, you’ll know the pain of your clothes getting stuck/caught in them, and the mini heart attack you get because you don’t want to rip it the fuck out. Imagine that but like, all over your body. And worse. Because they rub on scar tissue/burns. All the damn time.

Plus the fact that he burns himself half to death everytime he uses his quirk, so persistently putting stress on the already existing scar tissue as well as on the healthy skin, causing new burns and the constant risk of infection.

The amount of scar tissue is also worrying, the skin tightens and you might loose a lot of elasticity, I honestly don’t know how he can still move around that freely and tiktok dance like that.

I honestly think that the constant pain, the fact that he literally can’t cry -which is another serious medical issue because tears are necessary for the physical health of the eye, not to mention the psychological side of not being able to express you feelings- the fact that he never received mental help for what he’s gone through, all of these things together probably contributes to his seemingly lack/arrested development of empathy. (I actually have a very small, very morbid and completely based on speculation theory about this)

Well, unless he can’t feel pain because his nerve endings are so damaged that parts of his body are now completely numb, which... would be another serious problem.

I might be missing something because I’m not a medical student so if you have an answer please feel free to share!

Lastly, I’d like to tackle his feelings towards his siblings.

Unfortunately we don’t know much about his relationship with Fuyumi, he doesn’t talk about her here, so we don’t really have any more info on this, we just know that they used to play together as children.

About Natsuo, I think he still cares. He remembers that Natsuo was his shoulder to cry on, he willingly recalls the episodes when he used to go cry to him, even though he could have easily omitted his name and just say that he cried every night, it wouldn’t have subtracted from his story.

PLUS, he still calls him Natsu-kun, which indicates that there’s still something there, there’s still a fleeble bond. Personally I wouldn’t give “cute” nicks to someone I don’t care about.

Lastly, Shouto. It’s sad to admit, but, as many already noticed, he’s not the loving older brother we wished. That said, I also don’t think that he exactly hates him? We have to remember that Shouto was kept in almost complete isolation from his siblings, then Dabi disappeared. They didn’t really have time to know each other and form a bond.

And I speak from personal experience (NOTHING TOO BAD, I’m not going to spill the beans on my family, that’s what venting posts are not metas, BUT I do have a brother much much younger than me, that unfortunately doesn’t feel like a brother -we have different moms and his pregnancy was kept a secret untill the last moment-. I obviously feel kindness towards him but... it’s difficult). When you don’t know your brother, you don’t spend time with him, you don’t form a bond with him, it doesn’t matter if he’s family, he won’t feel like such.

And in the head of the fucking psychopath who never received mental help that Dabi is, Shouto feels like a stranger. A stranger his father took and put on a pedestal to use as his own puppet, forgetting about him, Dabi, and what he put him through, his pain etc..

So what do I do to get back at my father? I take his puppet.

Dabi probably felt like he was nothing, a thing to use and then dispose of, plus all of his pain was, ultimately, for nothing. He was used, broken, and then forgotten. He even says so in his recording.

Is it wrong? YES. HELL TO THE YES. Shouto is a victim as well and doesn’t deserve Dabi’s rage. But at this point Dabi is too far gone to see things clearly and is too consumed for the hatred of his father.

Hopefully the League can help him regain some sort of sanity? Maybe? We’ll see.

PS. As a big believer in ~ character development ~ I really, really, hope that Endeavor’s horrified face

means “Oh God, what have I done to my son” and NOT a “Oh God, I have been caught, I’m going to lose everything”. I do think it’s the first, but he’s still on very thin ice in my books.

Either way, Bravo, Horikoshi. Bravo.

(obviously if you want to add something please do! Let’s overanalyze shit together :) )

-reposting ‘cause tumblr erases it from the tags-

[i-mybrunettelady]

----- 1334 AE

Liv offered to come. El remembers Liv’s whiskers trembling, as they often do when he’s annoyed, but doesn’t want to lash out; it’s always been one of the charr’s greatest mysteries, how he manages to keep his annoyance from fanning into rage.

“I can go there alone,” El said, pulling on his too big fur-lined coat.

“There are Elder Dragons,” Liv pointed out. It was cold in Lion’s Arch, but El dreaded how cold it’d be in far Shiverpeaks.

“I want to see Aurene. See what’s so special about her. See what’s made Caithe abandon all sense of normalcy and betray us for an Elder Dragon. Besides, Alysannyra wouldn’t risk Trahearne’s life. She can do few things right, but that she cannot allow herself to fuck up.”

“Alright,” Liv sighed. “Don’t get yourself in danger, though. I’ll worry.”

Liv offered to come, El turned him down and now he is heaving alone in the cold shithole that is Eye of the North, trying to chase away that special aftertaste of vomit that only an asuran gate can produce. But he has to see Aurene, has to see what drove Caithe to betrayal. Because it feels like betrayal, because every Elder Dragon comes to be big and green and scream in his mind, and willingly joining the oppressors of mortals on Tyria cannot feel like anything but.

He senses Trahearne before he sees him, deep in conversation with Aife. There’s a noticeable weight of worry in him, worry he keeps hidden and cannot shake off.

“El,” the Firstborn greets, brow shooting up in surprise. His glow isn’t as noticeable as it was before.  “What brings you here?”

“Aurene,” El says curtly.

“Hello, Elandrin,” Aife says with a smile. “How did your self-defense lecture with the saplings go?”

“Lecture with the saplings? Aife, my dear, you can’t have found a worse replacement.” Trahearne shakes his head in disbelief.

“I agree,” El adds. “Don’t think it was my idea. Oh no. Canach and I had a bet and how in the Pale Tree’s branches could I refuse a bet?”

Trahearne pins him with a fond, but serious stare. “How much money did he milk out of you?”

“Enough for two masterwork daggers,” El sighs sadly. “In my defense, nobody got burned. Badly. I don’t envy you Luminaries.”

“Good thing you’re not a luminary,” Aife laughs. “We’d all be ash by now if that were the case.”

“Aife, wait here a moment,” Trahearne suddenly says, going around the table to stand before El. He lowers his voice and asks, “Are you sure? There’s Jormag too-”

“They’re all evil things,” El says harshly, squinting. “But I can handle myself. Thorns, you’re like Liv. I’m not a defenseless little sapling, I survived Maguuma by myself!”

“Jormag whispers,” Trahearne frowns. It’s a strange expression. El feels anger with an equally strange undercurrent of guilt radiate from his friend.

“I should know how to defend myself from dragons whispering in my head,” El bites out angrily. He’s capable, strong-willed. What’s another Elder Dragon?

Trahearne purses his lips. El feels his annoyance beat against his own, and he’s ready to argue if need be. But ever the calmer man, the Firstborn doesn’t take the bait. “Just beware,” he says with resignation, turning to go back to Aife. “They don’t play fair and minds like minefields are at most risk.”

El bristles. “Your dearheart told you that?”

“Yes,” Trahearne says. “If only you two could get along, my life would be a lot simpler. You’re more similar than you’d like to admit.”

“Never let a wrong ripen into evil,” El says sardonically. There’s conversation all around him, sylvari projecting fear and excitement in equal measures, grunting of the charr, laughter of the asura. Blades clash and people who look important - a white-furred charr with tattoos beneath her eye and a big, darkhaired norn, a short-haired human and Logan Thackeray, a floating mass of energy that talks for fuck’s sake - all converse in words he doesn’t quite get.

They’re all here because Alysannyra gathered them. Maybe he even asks her where she got a floating magical being so he could get one for himself.

He turns on his heel and moves towards the corridor. There’s a curious sense of ancient magic lingering in that direction. That’s when he sees her. She’s translucent, white, on her throne of pale crystals, smaller than he expected her to be, but with a long neck and a soothing voice. El hates it, hates how kind it seems, how gentle, when all dragons do is destroy. There’s no kindness within a dragon.

She’s deeply engaged in a conversation - argument - with a charr who doesn’t sound like a charr. Alysannyra sits beside them, purple eyes attentively looking between them, as if waiting for an opportunity to interject. She looks on edge, there are dark bags beneath her eyes, and her legs keep bouncing, like she’s about to run and needs to be prepared at any moment.

Just as she’s about to open her mouth, the charr turns to El and speaks in that smooth voice, “Ah, a visitor!”

“Elandrin?” Alysannyra asks, standing up. “What are you doing here?”

“Sight-seeing,” he says deadpan.

“Please,” she shakes her head. “My day’s bad already, don’t-”

“If you think I’m here for you, you’re an idiot,” he says honestly. “I’m here to see your elder dragon. And Jormag, it would seem.”

“Hello, sylvari,” Jormag says sweetly, a sudden shift from their firm tone from earlier. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

“As long as you don’t call me fodder,” he all but hisses, managing to rein himself in.

“No,” Jormag replies, “that’s my brother’s role, but my brother is dead. You’re marginally more defensive than that compatriot of yours who resides here. I do not see the reason, really.”

“I will not be swayed,” El bites out. “I won’t accept anything you offer, you frigid lizard.”

“Do not antagonise Jormag,” Aurene says and it’s as if crystals fall from her mouth when she speaks.

“Aurene, let me handle this,” Alysannyra says gently.

“But, mother, he-”

“I know what he said,” her champion replies. “And I know he stands by that still. But I ask you not to fight my battles for me. It’s...” She waves her hand.

“Hypocritical of you, Champion,” Jormag tsks. “She just wants to protect you. It’s her choice, after all.”

That seems to have hit a nerve. “Shut up,” Alysannyra hisses.

Mind like a minefield, El thinks. It burns to admit Trahearne was right.

“I’m Elandrin,” he says. “Elandrin Aien. I’d rather be that than sylvari.”

“Of course, Elandrin Aien,” Jormag replies. “I’ll call you whatever you wish to be called.”

“Do not listen,” Alysannyra says, “do not engage. Jormag wants that. They cannot be trusted.”

“You’re protective of me?” El frowns.

“No, I value my own life and mental health,” she bristles. It’s as big of a compliment as she’ll ever pay him and a nearby sylvari chokes on his drink and stares at him. “And besides, Trahearne will end me if anything happens to you. You’re very dear to him.”

“How lovely of you,” he says. “Aurene, you say you like mortals, no?”

“My mother and father are mortals,” the dragon says. “I love them. All of them.”

“You do not make minions? Little Aurene-imbibed underlings?”

“None.” Aurene sounds confused by that line of questioning.

“How do you know that won’t change? How can you be sure? What’s your goal in pretending to be kind?”

“Pretending? I’m not pretending. I do not wish mortals harm. Elandrin, what is the purpose of this?”

“He’s distrustful because of Mordremoth,” Alysannyra explains, crossing her arms. She taps her heel on the ground. “My advice would be giving up. He’s set in his ways. He won’t listen in the best of times.”

“There’s no good in Elder Dragons. Only things they’re capable of are evil. I wanted to see what turned Caithe to your side.” El shakes his head. “False promises.”

Aurene keeps quiet.

“Mind your words,” Alysannyra warns. “It’s my daughter you’re speaking to.”

“And you’re the greatest traitor of them all,” El continues, “if this creature is your daughter. It’s all you could ever do. I knew it would happen, but he didn’t listen.” She closes her eyes, reaches out for her magic, taps her foot against the floor harder and mumbles to herself.

“Mind your words,” she repeats, with more firmness.

“Elandrin!” Trahearne’s voice booms from the hallway. He’s angry. “Is that why you came here? To insult?”

“If need be,” El replies.

Jormag laughs. “What a lovely show you mortals make,” they comment.

“And you, Lyss? Threats?”

“I’m a mother,” she says. “I was just defending her honour.”

“You two are impossible,” Trahearne mutters. “I’ll discuss this with both of you if I have to, and I clearly do. You’re behaving like saplings.”

“Tell you what, Aurene,” El says, eyeing the dragon. “Save Tyria and I may yet believe you don’t plan out imminent destruction. If not...” He shivers at the thought of the Mists. “Save the world, Alysannyra, and I’ll think you a little less of traitor.”

“Of course,” she says, holding his gaze. “It’s what I do. With or without your thanks.”

"With or without my thanks," he mocks. There's an admission of fighting back that wasn't there when he called her a murderer two years ago.

He doesn't know how he feels about it, so he turns to leave. "I'm returning to Lion's Arch, Trahearne. Call for me when you want to talk to me. I'm sure I've heard it before but..."

He doesn't wait for any replies. There's someone who would actually be happy for him in Lion's Arch.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #404

“death doesn’t answer when i cried for help”

The person you had the strongest feelings for dies, do you care? I'd be fucking devastated. It wouldn't feel real. Is there something you’re happy about at the moment? A few things. I'm still on that high of my APAP mask working, like I'm actually getting some fucking quality sleep, and I think I'm noticing the effects of my TMS therapy finally, too. My PTSD has most notably been much more bearable, and my interests are beginning to spread again. Do you want someone dead? No. Do you ever wonder what your ex is up to? I mean yeah, I think that's pretty normal, even for someone without my issues. Have you ever fed or taken care of a stray animal? Oh, many times. What is something you tend to worry about? My health and future. What is something you do that is unhealthy? Sit at the computer for way too long. I'm absolutely certain my vision is as poor as it is partially because of me endlessly staring at screens. What is something you do that is good for you? I'm not afraid to prioritize my mental health. What last caused you to force a smile? I was watching a Mark video for the first time in a while and was just reminded of how much I love and appreciate that moron. What was the last video game you played? Was it fun? Because you said "video" game, I guess I'll exclude computer ones, in which case I'm pretty sure it was Silent Hill 2. Given it's one of my all-time favorite games, of course I think it's fun. It's one hell of an emotional ride. What is something not many people know about you? The fact I was a dancer for many years would probably surprise people once they have a good idea of me and what I like. What word describes your basic style? Lazy, honestly. I dress for comfort, and given that's usually just pj pants and a tank top... yeah, I don't put much effort into my clothing when I'm going most places. Have you ever been told you were going to Hell? She kinda beat around the bush, but yes. Have you ever wanted to kill yourself? On more than one occasion. If yes, what convinced you not to go through with it? Well, I did OD once, but on the other occasions, it was the fear of the unknown that deterred me. Have you ever rejected a guy, only to have him push the issue by asking “why?” and insisting that you just need to get to know him better? Omg no, thank god. I would NOT handle that well. Is there something that you believe everyone should do and you can’t believe that some people don’t do it (e.g., recycle or go to the dentist regularly)? I didn't know 'til a survey question asked it that there are people who don't brush their tongue when brushing their teeth. Like holy shit dude, there are SO many germs on your tongue, clean that shit. Regarding the last good choice (healthy choice, kind choice, selfless choice, etc.) you made, what was your real motivation behind it? Ummmm the nearest that comes to mind is I guess taking my meds? I mean I do that every single day, but it's still a healthy choice for me. The motivation was because I am very serious about doing what I can for my mental wellbeing. What is something that you have had to practice at to get the hang of it? If you can’t think of anything, that’s okay, what’s something you are currently practicing at and trying to master? I really can't think of something for the first half of the question, but I can tell you that right now I'm attempting to force a routine of applying a therapy technique called "opposite action" into my daily life, where you, well, do the exact opposite of what your depression tells you to not do. It is WAY harder than it sounds, but I'm doing it with reading 30 minutes a day! Have you ever gone to the store to buy something, like a video game, when it came out at midnight? Not to my recollection, no. Regarding the last novel you read, was there a romance included? If so, was it central to the plot? The last novel I finished, yes. It wasn't central to the plot. Have you ever done relaxation meditations or listened to relaxation guides or positive-thinking/healing recordings? No, except in therapy when different therapists wanted me to experiment with it during a session. They just don't work for me. Do you have any interests that are also often shared by children? Yeah. Those are the one I'm especially self-conscious about. there something that could be a solitary activity but you really only like to do it with other people (e.g., watching movies, playing video games, etc.)? Watching movies or TV. Are you satisfied with the interior design or decoration in your home? Or do you think it needs a total home makeover? A makeover would be nice... Is there something that you’d like to own but you can’t find it anywhere? If not, can you a remember a time when you wanted something? Did you ever end up finding it or did you eventually stop wanting it? OKAY SO I actually have seen this custom-made once long after deciding I wanted it, but it was RIDICULOUSLY expensive. There's a location in the Silent Hill games called Heaven's Night, and I'd love love LOVE to commission someone to duplicate the neon pink sign of it to hang in my room. Hopefully one day I could still do it. Who makes you smile the most? Probably my cat, honestly. What piercings do you want/have? I've talked about the piercings I have, but I'll talk about those I want. My #1 is absolutely collarbone dermals, but as I've explained a billion times, I want to lose weight so the bones are more prominent for the sake of contrast; you can't really see my collarbones now, so I just think it'd look pretty dumb and random to just have random piercings somewhere around there with no dimension. I also want way more in my ears, dermals in my back dimples also once I've lost weight, my right nostril for the dozenth time (but this time I'll wear a hoop), and while I'd absolutely adore an undereye microdermal as well, it'd be pointless with glasses. :/ What's your favorite website? KM is my pride and joy and really feels like my online home, so despite using sites like YouTube more, that 'ole RP site has to be my fave. Do you own a fish tank with fish? No. I had fish bowls (AWFUL idea) as a kid, but never tanks Do you like the movie 300? Never seen it. Do you pop your knuckles? NOOOOOOOOOOO. I absolutely hate the sound. It makes me cringe and shiver. Do you have Photoshop? Yes. It comes in the Adobe CC photography bundle I have. Do you use tinypic or photobucket? I used Photobucket back in the day. Now I just upload to imgur. What’s your favourite song from the 1980s? You're talking to someone who adores classic rock/metal, haha. How about the 1990s? There are way too many songs to choose from. Have you won anything recently? No. How often do you make Excel tables? What for? Never. What was the last baby animal you saw in the wild? There was a poor fawn as roadkill on the highway recently. :/ Are you always available or online? Preeeetty much. Do you have dietary restrictions? Or do you just eat what you like? I can eat whatever. Do you prefer gold, silver or steel jewelry? Or no jewelry at all? Steel. I'm allergic to silver, and I think steel is more subtle than gold. Have you been binge-watching any shows lately? If so, what? No. If you dye your hair, do you do it yourself or go to a salon? I do it at a salon. If you have any, do you like your in-laws? I don’t have any. Would it bother you, if your partner had cut contact with their parents? If they had a good reason, no. Have you ever wondered whether you were adopted? As a kid I did because I thought Mom was meaner to me than my siblings, lol. What’s the best physical feeling in the entire universe? ........... This question is a setup lmfao. Have you ever grown a berry bush? No. Have you done something new to your hair recently? No. It's been the same for quite a while. I wanna dye it badly. Do you have bad anxiety? If so, do you take any kind of medication for it? I'm diagnosed with generalized and social anxiety, so yeah. I take Klonopin once and day and Ativan as needed for attacks. One thing you’ve experienced that you thought you never would have? HA, the first thing to come to mind was being noticed by Mark by making a viral (in the community, anyway) gif of he and his doggy. I shit you not, I couldn't sleep for three days lmfao. What was the last thing someone said to you that kept repeating over & over in your head? That I gained fucking seven pounds in two months at my last doctor appointment. I wanted to scream. How often do you have late nights out? Never. I'm a homebody. If you could, would you work from home? Do you think that would make you more or less productive? No. It would absolutely make me less productive. If you had the ability to change the weather, what would you change it to right now? Cool with a nice breeze, mostly clear skies, crisp air... That'd be nice right now. Is there something that you really need to do, but can’t seem to get motivated to do it? I say it all the time: finish decorating my room. It's funny, because I KNOW I'll feel more at home and cozy with my bedroom more personalized. Most disturbing movie you have ever seen? Paranormal Entity. The ending was... a lot. Has a life goal or dream ever come true for you yet? If yes, what is it? If no, do you think you’ll achieve it? Not that I can think of. .-. I hope I can achieve some... Have you ever had food poisoning? No, thank God. What are you listening to? "The Man Who Made a Monster" by Dance With the Dead. Do you think there will be a WWIII? I find it inevitable at some point down humanity's future. People are too hateful for it not to eventually. Has anyone ever asked you if you were emo? Yeah. Has someone ever liked you that you never thought would? Maybe? Idk. In all honesty, can a person be too nice? Yes, in some instances. Has one of your friend’s boyfriends ever tried to cheat on them with you? Yes, when I was around 12. And I let it happen. It's one of my biggest regrets. Is mental abuse really as bad as physical abuse? Of course it is. Emotional abuse can cut just as deep as some physical blows, or even deeper. Do you shop at Sephora for make-up? No. Zelda: Twilight Princess or Ocarina of Time? I'm actually not into TLoZ. Do you own a rosary? I did as a kid growing up in a Catholic Sunday school. If you were homeless, how would you cope? If I had no loved ones in my life and no sign of things getting better, I'm honestly preeetty sure I'd end my life.

[apex-academy]

Chapter 5: Caring Is a Hazard to Your Health (#30)

The small amount of takedown in the gym gives us a little time to cool off next door. I’m nursing a glass of apple juice at an empty table when Kanagi hops on top of it without warning.

“Why.”

She twists to offer me a hand.

“Yo, come up here, too.”

“No.”

“C’mon, it’s just for a second.”

“I wasn’t particularly worried I’d be stranded up there for ages.”

“C’monnnnn... You, like, really oughta...”

“...”

On the plus side, Kanagi jumping on tables isn’t abnormal enough for her to have gotten everyone’s attention for long. So if I do do this... for some freaking reason...

“........”

I’m trying to be a team player today, I guess. I push my glass well out of the way and step on up. Weird how different the cafeteria feels just looking at it from a few feet higher.

“YO, DUDES!!”

That’s enough to easily cut through the fledgling conversations around the room. All eyes turn to us, and I get the distinct urge to sit back down. I’m guessing that’s not what Kanagi had in mind. If she had anything in mind besides very vaguely embarrassing me. Though, all things considered, I’ve suffered enough secondhand embarrassment in this place to have a decent tolerance built up.

“We ready to get hyped for the next event?”

“Absolutely!”

“I’m sure it will be of at least a little amusement.”

“Oh boy oh yeah, I’m super hyped!!”

“So what are we doing?”

“Tell ‘em, Kakumi!”

I drop my voice. “How am I supposed to know??”

“Like, take a wild flippin’ guess, dude. I didn’t just grab you ‘cuz we’re friends.”

“Uh.”

“...Oh.”

I forgot I’d even suggested it.

“I’m going to assume pool of some sort.”

“Heck yeah!”

“And, like, not the swimming kind.”

That is not something I needed clarification on.

“So! I totally have no idea how that’s supposed to work for, like, a buncha people, so that’ll be up to Kakumi!”

“Thanks.”

There are certainly a few ways I could frame it. Not to mention there are several tables in my study hall, anyway. Hmm...

“We can announce, like, the specific stuff when we get there.”

“Just wanted to let everybody know first!”

“Including me...”

The rest of our little water break is sufficient time to get things planned out.

“Arright! Everything good to go, dude? Got your key and junk?”

“Yeah. Upstairs we go, then?”

“Figuratively speaking, I hope.”

“Yeah. Up-elevators we go?”

The group moves out. It may be for our safety, and there’s plenty of room, but... it’s uncomfortable, loading everyone into the elevator at once. Every other time that happens, it’s because someone else is dead.

“...”

At least Monochap didn’t hop in. We must be a lot easier to keep an eye on this way, huh? For friend and foe alike. Speaking of which, I still wonder...

As the elevator dings to let us out on the third floor, I slink back to where Aidan sits. I seize the wheelchair handles, mostly to have a good excuse to be there. I still drop my voice once the others hang back to let us go out first.

“By the way... What ‘measures’ exactly did you take to keep track of people trying to leave the dorms?”

“I believe I stated I was not going to tell anyone the details.”

“Well, yeah, but... You trust me, right? I know how to keep my mouth shut, too.”

“Unfortunately, that isn’t the issue.”

“Even if I...”

“...”

“Er, even if I trust you not to try anything nefarious or enable someone else to do so, it wouldn’t be safe to share. After all, if someone wants to kill without getting caught, overcoming my mysterious ‘measures’ should be a top priority. Hopefully it’s nothing anyone’s been able to figure out yet, nor will they be able to.”

“In which case the would-be killer’s safest option would be to target anyone who might know the trick to it. Whether it’s only trying to find it out, or specifically targeting the source so he or she doesn’t have to worry about cracking it at all.”

“So if I give anyone reason to believe I’ve told you, or Mister Attenborough, or anyone else, that would only be worsening matters.”

His voice rises a bit, though still not quite back to normal volume.

“So no, Miss Kogamino, I won’t even be telling you.”

“That makes enough sense, but...”

“By that logic, doesn’t that make it extremely dangerous for you specifically? If there are no other sources for that information, you’re the only one left to target.”

“Well, yes, of course.”

“But frankly, in my condition I’m an easy target to start with, and at some point stacking the deck against me gives diminishing enough returns it doesn’t make much difference anymore.”

Well. Can’t argue with that, seeing as I already almost...

Anyway.

“Hey guyyyys!”

I look up to see Ichiriki, near the west wing door, waving aggressively.

“You’re coming, right?”

“Of course we’re coming!! Sports Day would be cancelled otherwise!”

He attempts to crane his neck towards me but eventually gives up.

“Since you’re apparently escorting me at the moment, do you mind?”

“Right. Sorry.”

We catch up with the others, head into the wing, and I get my study hall door open. Strictly speaking, there’s enough room for everyone in here, but it’ll start feeling crowded pretty fast if we’re all circling tables at the same time.

“All right, dude! How’re we doin’ this?”

“Let’s see...”

Eventually I set up more of a trick shot contest than a proper game, but at least it lets everyone take turns. We can transition to something more reminiscent of a real match once we’ve whittled down the competition.

Maybe it’s just because I’m in my wheelhouse, but this is much more entertaining to watch than the gym contests. Kaichi’s not a bad shot, though you can tell his leg injury’s jacked up his balance. Kanagi manages to not actually put a hole through the wall when a jumpshot goes horribly wrong. Mahavir has a special talent for lining up shots beautifully and then spinning them out of line at the last possible second. Aidan... tries. That’s about all I can say for that. Setting up a bridge just doesn’t make up for having one arm in a sling. But I get the feeling he wasn’t great at this to start with, anyway. No big loss.

Tsunyasha can’t seem to get a grip on how we’re playing this game, and even I can’t gauge her skill level that well when she’d rather wield the cue like a weapon than an implement. Yuki is still as bad as the last time she tried, but she seems like she’s having fun. I think. Ichiriki, meanwhile, is surprisingly decent, but at the cost of smacking someone with his backstroke every single time despite our best efforts to avoid it.

All of two people actually pass my little “qualifier,” but in the interest of hosting more than one game, I give Mahavir and Yuki the go-ahead, anyway. They’re at least not threats to public safety.

“Huh, but then wait!”

“Aren’t you gonna try it, Kakumi?”

“I don’t really need to take this shot to know I’d make it, so.”

“Oho. But if that doesn’t sound like an excuse.”

“Are you serious.” I realize too late I’m asking this of Tsunyasha. Never mind, then.

“Hey, spectators are totes important to sports, too!”

“So you should, like, let us spectate, right?”

Is that how that works? “I guess? It just seemed like a waste of time.”

“Isn’t the point of all this to waste time?”

“Touché.”

I rifle through the ball return and set up a few stripes in the same places I did for the others.

Looking at this setup when I’m going to do it makes it feel like way too small a challenge now. Yet it still took out most of the others. Well, whatever. If they want me to show off, I can show off. 

This was supposed to take two or three hits to sink everything, but I could do it in one. It’ll take some serious spin, though...

I pick out a cue stick and circle the table before setting up my shot. Pok-pok-pok-pok, a brief clatter as each ball sinks, and then the low rumble as they make their way back to the ball return.

Ichiriki applauds, quickly joined by Yuki, who can’t help but sound a little sarcastic at her pace.

“There, I qualify.”

The applause sporadically catches on with the others in the room and then drops off.

“One! More! Time!″

“Oh yeah, yeah! Can you do it with one more of the number ones?”

“Well, of course, depending on where I put it.”

“Go on, then. Amuse us.”

“......” 

It’s not like I mind the request, just the attitude. Good luck getting that to change, though.

Another round of rifling for the stripes, then setup. Another round of clacks to trim the table down to a lonely cue ball once again.

“Did, uh, anyone else want to try this number, or?”

“I’m content to watch at this point, if that’s acceptable.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh! It’s cool!”

“Yeah, dude, you totally gotta go for one more now!”

“Like, general sports rules, y’know?”

“I don’t, but sure, why not.”

More shots, more choruses of requests. At some point it ends up being more of an experiment as to where I should place everything for the best odds. It’s an interesting combination of strategizing and, of course, actually hitting the cue the way I need to. Neither of which is a problem for me, but still, there are only so many ricochets you can get before friction grinds all motion to a halt. Only so hard you can hit the cue ball, too.

Once we’re up to seven, it starts getting hairy. Still, even when I finally leave an extra ball on the table, it’s close enough to the pocket I just get demands to try it again. It takes a few tries, but finally I manage to sink them all.

Even with so few people around the table, the cheers seem extra raucous in this small space. It’s stupid, but I guess I’m a little caught up in the moment—I thonk the butt of the cue stick on the floor and blow on the other end like it’s a smoking gun. Traces of chalk drifting off enhance the effect.

“How’s that?”

“NICE!!”

“Ahahaha...”

“That... was kind of a weird laugh.”

“Oh, sorry. I just think...”

“...that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile since...”

“...”

“...in a while.”

“Is this, like, not counting the ‘I’m totally surrounded by morons’ smile, or.”

“Does that one count as a smile? It’s not super smiley.”

“..........”

“ ‘f that’s th’ one, seems off t’ me.”

“Thanks for making smiling awkward now I guess???”

“Sorry...!”

“It was... just nice.”

“...Yes.”

I don’t know how I’m supposed to respond at this point. “Sssso, do we want to move on to the semifinals?”

“Sure, dude.”

I get Mahavir and Yuki set up and step aside. It’s quickly made clear that that is going to be a very long game, so I go ahead and put Kaichi and Ichiriki at another table. Hopefully they don’t do too much damage.

Safely out of the way, I take a deep breath and try not to lean too hard against the wall. The rest of the room fades into the familiar blur of other players going about their business. Speech, clacks, rumbles. I could almost doze off.

If I wasn’t still dying of awkward over here.

It’s been that long since anyone’s seen me smile, huh? I’d believe it. There hasn’t been much to smile about.

Though it’s kind of hard to say that right now. With all of us together, cooperating, having fun... despite everything...

I don’t know how to feel about it. Glad that we have this much? Mournful for those who don’t get to share it with us now? Sickened that one of us here is probably going to ruin it all over again?

“...”

At this point, most of us are friends, aren’t we? I can’t say I trust all of these people, but... If the rest of us can stick together, there’s not much the young master can do, right?

Unless they pull another motive like the second...

But they can’t do that. We already have a motive. Right? I'm sure we’ll be hit with another if we can withstand this one, but that gives us more time. Time for someone out there to realize we’ve been taken, or time for us to make our own way out.

If that’s what working together can get us... I’ll just have to be sure not to waste it.

[BACK] [NEXT]

[wizardessheart-sideb]

[Image ID: A chapter image done in the style of Wizardess Heart. A large, off-white imagine with a guy on it. He’s wearing a dark gray uniform. There’s a lavender bar over him that reads “Tsukasa Kuze.” The rest of the text reads “Main Story” and “Chapter 9: The Truth” /End ID]

Chapter summary: Tsukasa’s home sick again and finally tells me the truth about what’s going on.

I’m staying home today. I’m sorry I can’t walk you to class. Love, Tsukasa.

That was the Magic Note Tsukasa had sent me this morning as I ate breakfast. My stomach had dropped to the floor when I read it. I was really hoping he’d feel better, but apparently not. Did Azusa not come over and give Tsukasa medicine? Was Tsukasa just really sick? Again, once classes were over and I’d run an errand, I knocked on Tsukasa’s door with my free hand; the other had a small to-go bowl of soup.

“Come in,” he called weakly. I quickly went in, placing the soup on his nightstand.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” I asked.

“Bad. But I took some painkillers, so hopefully my body stops hurting soon.”

“Is it everywhere?”

“Basically,” he pouted. I sighed and handed him the soup. His face lit.

“You didn’t have to get me dinner. Thank you.” He didn’t wait to dig it, carefully taking off the lid and grabbing the spoon. He said something I didn’t quite understand before shoveling the soup into his mouth.

“You don’t have to thank me. It’s the least I can do.” I got on the other side of the bed, laying back on the pillows. “I don’t want to push you, but have you had your medication recently?” Tsukasa nodded, putting his spoon down and swallowing.

“Actually, Azusa came over this morning and gave me a dose,” he told me. Relief flooded my body.

“So you’ll be feeling better soon?!” He bit his lip and stared at the blankets. The relief I’d just felt evaporated in seconds. “Tsukasa?”

“I… I honestly don’t know.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“But doesn’t this medication help keep you from getting sick in the first place?!”

“It does. But… I really didn’t want to tell you this.” My heart stopped.

“Tell me what?” I demanded, trying to sound calm when I felt anything but.

“My medication does keep me from getting sick, but it’s real purpose is to keep my body healthy. But we’ve been running low on it and… It’s watered down,” Tsukasa admitted.

“It’s what?!”

“Azusa’s mixed it with fillers so I don’t run out, but now it’s so weak that honestly, I don’t think it’s really doing anything anymore.” My blood ran cold.

“Tsukasa, why wouldn’t you tell me this?!” I demanded angrily.

“I already told you that I don’t want you to worry about me. You’re so stressed about classes and your Judgment and my health problems were just piling stress on,” he defended himself heatedly.

“But this is serious! I’m thankful you’re trying to make me less stressed, but this is your health! I need to be in the know about this sort of thing! I can’t help you if I don’t know everything.”

“I know, but if there’s a way to keep you from being totally stressed, isn’t that something I should do?” he countered, eyes narrowing.

“I mean, in most cases yeah, but this is different. This isn’t getting us dinner while I’m working late.”

“I…” He sighed, clearly frustrated. I certainly felt the same.

“How about we just. Cool down for a couple moments and then come back to talk about this?” I suggested. There was no way we were going to get anywhere when we were both angry.

“Let’s do that.” Finally, something we could agree on.

The tension in the air as we slowly calmed down lessened and lessened. By the time I was ready to talk things out, I wasn’t mad anymore. I knew he just wanted to help me out, but I wish talking to him wasn’t like talking to a wall. I looked over to tell him I was ready when I saw him slumped against his pillows, fast asleep.

“Oh no, Tsukasa…” I sighed. I was caught between waking him up and letting him sleep. After all, he’d been so sick. And besides, I had to go meet Azusa soon. You know what, I’ll just come back. I wrote him a quick note explaining I was going to be studying in the library and to send me a Magic Note when he woke up and placed it on his nightstand.

Azusa had asked me to meet him in the forest, at a large rock in the middle of the forest. He’d drawn me a map and with the moon lighting the way, I made my way through the forest. By the time I reached it, he was already there, arms folded and looking around his surroundings.

“Sorry I’m late, I ran to Tsukasa’s room to bring him dinner,” I told him. He didn’t look happy, but he nodded.

“It’s fine. Let’s head out.” He didn’t waste a moment, walking away. I hurried after him, falling into step with him.

“Head out? What we need isn’t here?”

“No, it’s just a little ways away. We’re going to the Spring of Unicorns,” he informed me.

“The Spring of Unicorns? What’s that?”

“According to a friend, unicorns live in his area and there’s a special spring they like.” I knew unicorns lived in Gedonelune, but I had no idea they lived on campus. You’d think more people would talk about that.

“So, uh, what are we getting at the spring? A special flower? Special water? What?” I asked.

“We’re going to get a part of a unicorn horn,” Azusa said.

“We… wait,  what?!” I stopped in my tracks. Azusa stopped too and gave me a tired look.

“Come on, we don’t have all night,” he snapped at me. He grabbed my arm and dragged me along. Once I got my footing and kept walking, he let go. But it was as if I could still feel his hand around my arm. My head was moving fast, trying to figure out why we’d need something from a unicorn. And then it hit me.

“A unicorn horn?! But… wait… is that what’s in Tsukasa’s medicine?!” I squeaked.

“Yeah.”

“Hold on, but unicorns don’t live in Hinomoto.”

“Really? I, a Hinomotan, didn’t know that,” he said ssnidely.

“Stop being sarcastic, you know what I meant!” He rolled his eyes.

“When Tsukasa was sick, I used to go around to some shady merchants and see their wares. I was desperate for something to save him. One merchant managed to smuggle a unicorn in. Somehow, it died on the way over and I took it off his hands. It cost too damn much, but it worked, didn’t it? Tsukasa was healthy for years until…” His voice trailed off.

“Until what?” I prodded.

“I didn’t think getting access to a unicorn would be so hard. I knew they lived in the forests here, but I didn’t realize they only live on the peninsula the Academy’s on. I haven’t been able to get to a unicorn until this year.”

“So why do you need me to help? Do you need me to talk to the unicorn?” I asked.

“Sort of. They like the pure of heart and having you with me when we negotiate would look good. Besides, I’d rather make the medication in the Night Class lab. No one will bother me there.”

“I see. Is there anything else we need for his medicine?”

“I made the first batch with unicorn blood since it also has magical properties, but this time around since I don’t have a dead body, I’m going to skip it. It was just for extra strength, anyway.” I shuddered at the idea of Azusa butchering a unicorn, even if it was already dead.

“Does Tsukasa know what’s in his medicine?”

“No. He loves animals so much it’d be a bit of a slap in the face.” He gave me a look so sharp that it could’ve killed me. “You won’t tell him what’s in his medication.” It wasn’t a suggestion; it was a demand.

“My lips are sealed,” I said hurriedly. He gave me a smile and my skin crawled.

“Good.”

The trees gave way to a clearing with a sparkling pond in the middle. And lo and behold, a majestic unicorn had it’s head bent down, drinking from the spring. I’d seen horses before, but this creature seemed so much bigger than a horse. The air of grandeur around it made me stop in awe. There has a hand on my back and Azusa was forcing me forward. His message was clear.

“Um, excuse me?” I called out timidly and the unicorn looked up, looking at both of us.

“Humans? What are you doing here? Isn’t this a little deep in the forest for your type?” he inquired.

“Uh, we were looking for a unicorn to talk to.” What was I even saying?

“Then I guess you’ve completed your task.” He leaned down, continuing to drink.

“We wanted to ask a favor,” Azusa spoke up. The unicorn lifted its head again.

“A favor? That’s a bit arrogant to ask of a creature you just met,” he said. I mean, he wasn’t wrong, but he was being so rude to us.

“I know,” Azusa replied. “I wouldn’t ask this if the situation wasn’t dire. My brother’s body is slowly shutting down and the only medicine that can save him needs a very small amount of a unicorn horn.”

“Oh, so that’s it? You want my horn?” The unicorn’s eyes started to change to a deep red and I quickly shook my head.

“We don’t want the whole thing,” Azusa said quickly. “We know what that means. We just need a small chunk.”

“And what will I get in return?” the unicorn asked pointedly. We paused.

“… The satisfaction of knowing you’ve helped someone?” I said.

“Wrong.” How is that wrong?! “How do I know you just aren’t going to sell it off?”

“That’s fair,” I conceded. “But please. We need to help his brother. He’s really sick and needs this medicine.”

“Come back in five years. If you’re patient, I’ll let you have a piece,” the unicorn said. Azusa twitched.

“Five years?! We don’t have that kind of time!” Something about Azusa changed. He tensed beside me and it was as if I could feel negativity radiating from him.

“If you aren’t patient, then you aren’t getting a piece of my horn, which I was generous enough to offer,” the unicorn sniffed. Yeah, it’d be generous if you weren’t being such a jerk about it.

“My brother will be dead in five years if we don’t get this horn!” Azusa cried. Dead?! My stomach fell straight to the floor and a wave of dizziness hit me. No… He was being melodramatic, right? Tsukasa always said he was overdramatic. That was the case, right? Tsukasa couldn’t be dying. He couldn’t be. He was just sick right now and he was going to get all better soon.

“I will not give you anything unless you wait. I need to know you’re trustworthy.” The unicorn acted like he didn’t even care, like our words weren’t even reaching him. Did he not understand death? Considering unicorns were endangered, surely he had to understand?

“We… You…” Azusa’s fists were clenched and there was something disturbing in his eyes. The air grew still and in a moment, my body was moving.

“We’ll come back tomorrow to talk this out more, Mr. Unicorn,” I piped up hurriedly. My arms were around Azusa’s waist and not a moment too soon. A second before I grabbed him, he started to lurch forward.

“Let go of me!” he screamed at me. He was seething as I dragged him away. It was like trying to drag a rock around, but somehow, we got out of the spring. “Let GO!” He pushed me and I stumbled backwards. He was breathing heavily, glaring into the darkness. “That selfish piece of -” A long string of expletives left his mouth as he stormed forward back towards campus. I scrambled to follow after him.

“What are we going to do now?” I was at a loss. Maybe we could find another unicorn if this one was going to be a jerk? Maybe there was something else we could do?

“We’re going back tomorrow and we’re killing it,” Azusa announced coldly. My blood froze.

“Kill… Kill it?! Azusa, that’s illegal!”

“Yeah, no shit. What else are we supposed to do?! If we don’t get that horn, Tsukasa will die!” he yelled at me.

“But… !” I couldn’t think of what to say. Of how to fight back. Sure, I wouldn’t mind slapping the unicorn for being so rude, but killing it?! There had to be another way! Killing a unicorn was a serious crime. If we got caught… I shuddered at the thought. But at the same time, what if Azusa was right? What if this was the only way to save Tsukasa? I wasn’t going to let him die, but if this was truly the sole way of keeping him alive… I just didn’t know.

The walk back to the dorm was silent. If I wanted to break the tension between Azusa and I, I’d have to cut it with a knife. I stole glances at him every so often. He looked quietly furious, fuming at how things turned out. I didn’t blame him. I understood where the unicorn was coming from, but it was harsh. Maybe if we came back tomorrow, he’d change his mind?

“Meet me tomorrow at the same place, same time as tonight,” Azusa ordered me. “We’re getting that horn if it’s the last thing we do.”

“There really isn’t another way?” He made a noise of disgust, rolling his eyes. What Dorian and Aika saw in him, I didn’t know.

“There’s not! How many times do I have to tell you that?!” he fired back. I flinched and he just rolled his eyes yet again. “If you don’t want to help, fine. I’ll just do it on my own since you clearly don’t care enough about my brother.”

“Excuse me?! You have absolutely no right to say that!” I argued. “Sorry that I actually have a conscious about killing animals.”

“Oh please, like it’s a big deal. It’s the circle of life. How is killing an animal for medicine different from killing an animal for food?”

“Uh, are y’all okay?” I looked over to see Isabelle coming out of the dorm building, eyebrows furrowed. Azusa straightened up, giving her a smile and a laugh.

“Oh, we’re fine. We were just talking about food ethics,” he lied. Isabelle just gave him a skeptical look.

“Uh, okay? Sweetie, we’ve been looking all over for you. Dorian’s almost done with dinner.” She put her arm around me and pulled me away. “Later, Azusa.” She didn’t even wait for him to respond, taking me inside and up to our dorm. “Was he bothering you?” she demanded as soon as Azusa was out of earshot.

“N-No, not really,” I lied.

“I have no qualms about beating someone up -”

“What? No, Isabelle. I don’t need you to beat him up. We just had a disagreement,” I added.

“Okay. But if you change your mind…” She winked. Note to self: don’t make Isabelle mad. “But seriously, where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“I got into a fight with Tsukasa and… Oh no!” I need to go talk things out with him! “Crap, Isabelle, I’m sorry, but I gotta go talk to Tsukasa!” I started running back towards the dorm.

“Uh, okay?! Dinner’s in like, twenty minutes!” she shouted after me.

“Okay!”

I ran through the dorm, hurrying back to Tsukasa’s room. Was he awake now? Was I gonna have to wake him up? How did I even really feel about this? His door was open and I knocked before poking my head in.

“Tsukasa?” I called out tentatively. He was still in bed, a textbook open. He looked over to me. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry I fell asleep,” he said as he shut his book and moved his study supplies onto his nightstand.

“I’m sorry I left while you were sleeping. And... Look, I get it. I know you were trying to do what you thought was best for me,” I said.

“I know. And I’m sorry, too. I was frustrated and not feeling well and I took it out on you. I think we both were just doing what we thought was best for each other.”

“Yeah…”

“We still need to work on our honesty with each other, but I promise I’ll keep working on it. And I promise that that’s everything going on.”

Was that true? He sounded so sincere. Maybe he didn’t know he was… No, Azusa, was totally just being melodramatic. But what if he wasn’t?

“I love you, Tsukasa. You know that, right?” I asked. He chuckled and grabbed my hand. His hand was so warm in mine.

“I love you, too,” he said, and the butterflies in my stomach were in a frenzy. … I had to find a way to save him. No matter what.

---

A delicious, savory smell wafted from our kitchen and my stomach started rumbling. Isabelle, Aika and Dorian were already at the table, eating.

“Jeez, where have you been? You’re never late to dinner,” Dorian said, irritated.

“I-I, uh…” Should I tell them about what happened?

Meeting Azusa, the unicorn, everything came rushing back to me. Azusa’s claim Tsukasa would die without this medicine. Tsukasa and I making up. My throat felt tight and it ached. My vision got blurry before the tears started. I felt Isabelle’s arms around me and I could hear Dorian trying to backtrack, telling me he wasn’t angry at me, he was only surprised and bit worried.

Isabelle sat me down, keeping her arms around me and letting me cry into her shoulder. Everything spilled out of me: my trip with Azusa, Tsukasa’s health, the unicorn refusing to help us. My sobs quieted the more I spoke, and by the time I was done, I was just sniffling. Dorian handed me some napkins.

“I had no idea Tsukasa’s condition was so bad…” Aika said.

“I knew there was something up with him, but I didn’t think it was this. Jeez, killing a unicorn...” Dorian sighed.

“I mean, I get it. If killing a unicorn was the only way to save my sister Felicity, I’d do it,” Isabelle said.

“Yeah, I get it too. But it’s not like it’s his only option,” he said. I perked up.

“There’s another way?!” I asked.

“Of course there is,” he answered. Isabelle’s eyes narrowed.

“If you’re thinking what I’m thinking, that’s a pretty big price to pay, Dorian,” she told him cautiously. “Not everyone is willing to make contracts.”

“Contracts?” I asked.

“Anything’s possible if you make a contract with a magical creature or a demon,” Dorian said.

“A demon?! I-Is that really necessary?” I couldn’t help but balk at the suggestion. But then again, if it was a way to save Tsukasa without killing anything...

“I wouldn’t say it’s necessary, but it’s easier to summon demons than magical creatures,” Dorian informed us. “Demons actively look for people who want contracts. Magic creatures generally don’t.”

“What, so you’re just going to go tell Azusa to make a deal with a demon instead of killing a unicorn?” Aika challenged him.

“It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?” he shrugged.

“Summoning a demon is so serious, though,” she pointed out.

“Uh, Tsukasa’s dying. I think this is a pretty good reason to summon a demon,” Isabelle said, folding her arms in front of her chest. “And also, it’s pretty rich that you -”

“I’m just saying Azusa is stubborn and even if Dorian suggests it, it’s not like he’ll do it,” Aika cut her off. “He likes us, but he’s also super stubborn.”

“But it’s worth a chance! And if Azusa won’t do it, then I will!” I declared. Aika and Isabelle gawked at me. The edges of Dorian’s lips twitched before he burst out laughing.

“Oh, you’re going to summon a demon? Well, if you need help, just give me a holler. Demonology is sort of my thing,” he told me.

“Don’t patronize me,” I snapped. “I want to help Tsukasa and if this is the only way I can do it, then I will! I don’t want Azusa to kill that unicorn. If I have to make a contract then I’ll do it!”

“We’re not trying to patronize you,” Aika frowned. “It’s just that making contracts with demons is a really serious thing. Sure, it’s so easy even non-wizards can do it, but it still carries a hefty price.”

“I don’t care. I’ll do it if I have to,” I told her.

Why did everyone look down on me?! I knew how big of a deal it was. But if I could save Tsukasa and the unicorn, of course I’d do it. I’d finally be able to do something for him. After so many days of being helpless and not able to do anything for him, I could finally do something to help.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.13

Keith came out the shower doing his best drowned rat expression to date. With the towel around his shoulders, Lance wondered if Keith was protecting his neck, or preventing his shirt from soaking through. Having already showered, Lance had a glass of blood wine in one hand, and his phone in the other, dinner plans having gone out the window while he was busy playing with Keith

“Do you want the good news, or the bad news?”

Keith crossed his arms, Lance having to stomp down his compulsion to go dry the younger males hair off with a towel

“What?”

“Well, remember my friends from the other night, yeah, Hunk’s going to be here in about 20 minutes to pick us up”

“I’m not going”

“You don’t even know where we’re headed to”

“I don’t care. We’re not going”

It didn’t escape Lance that “I” had turned to “we”. He figured the hunter wouldn’t trust him to go out alone, and if he hadn’t been totally awol from his normal life he would have been turning down the invitation for some serious self pampering time

“Sorry, but you see, when my friends want to hang out, I don’t turn them down. You need to go get changed into something more bar appropriate”

“We’re not going. We haven’t finished talking. You turned me, and I need to know more”

With the number of times Keith had accused him, Lance felt like he’d know Keith far longer than a week and a bit... God, he couldn’t even remember if it had been a week, Keith’s idiocy was spreading

“And I hear I was thinking you’d finally gotten a clue. We’re going, because I’m invited. I’ll go on my own if I have to, but I had the feeling you’d freak out and think your prey was running away”

Keith’s emotions flickered across his face, obviously arguing mentally about the fact he couldn’t say no, and nor did he have the power to stop Lance

“Fine, but only so I can make sure you don’t turn anyone else. If you so much look like you’re going to bite someone, I will decapitate you”

“Excellent. I think I should have something in wardrobe that’ll fit. I’m guessing you like black on black”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“You’re wearing a black onesie. Some people might be into that, but at a bar, that suit’s a crime against fashion”

“It’s not made to be fashionable”

“No, it’s made so you can be all “bump in the night”. Blargh. Go change already”

Keith told Lance at least several times that wearing his clothes had been forced upon him. Lance wasn’t sure why, when Keith had chosen his own wardrobe out of what was available. In ripped skinny legged black jeans and a black silk button up, Keith looked passable. Lance chalking up the weird sensation of wanting to pat Keith’s butt to the fact he too was recovering from being poisoned. Keith was soooo not his type, never mind the fact the guy was a freakin’ human, Keith hated him with a passion. Nope. Keith didn’t look good in his clothes, nor would he look better out of them. Lance was just... going through a lot. That was it. He was not getting suckered in by those piercing purple eyes, or the way Keith’s collarbones peaked out of the shirt. The blood in his body had enough to deal with, without it deciding it needed to make a trip down south over absolutely nothing.

Leaving Blue feeding her face on wet food, Lance headed for the door, back tracking to grab Keith by the wrist and drag him along behind him. Keith was starting to object all over again, but Lance wasn’t having it. If he had to socialise around drunks, then the punishment should be shared by Keith for being so goddamn hot and stupid... mostly stupid with a dash of stupidly hot sprinkled on top, kind of like unwanted chilli flakes. Lance was feeling pretty confident in his own outfit, blue jeans, white shirts and cropped tan jacket, but Keith had one upped him without even trying. Maybe Keith would get laid and lose some of his prickliness? The anger loaf needed to let that anger go, and turn into that beautiful emo butterfly hidden inside his cocoon of douchery. Towing Keith out the house, Lance left the alarm off in case Shiro came back. Explaining Keith’s presence seemed a hard enough challenge as it was, explaining why Shiro was breaking into his house... that was a whole other kettle of fish.

*

Lance had been lied too. There was no bar, they were in fact in Platt, running a rehearsal of Hunk’s date with Shay on the weekend. Picking up Pidge, she’d thrown herself into the back of the car, hand narrowly missing Lance’s junk in her rush. Oogling Keith, Pidge had elbowed him as she buckled herself in, all Lance could do was offer a shrug. Hunk’d already been shocked enough for the three of them, Lance lying his arse off saying Keith had offered to stay a few days and help Lance take photos of his house as he was thinking of repainting. The photos were for the online lab thingo where you could upload your rooms and pick colours there. Yep, those were the words he used too, technology was forever changing and he openly admitted he missed the days before social media... other than the cat videos and memes.

With Keith having no cash, Lance paid. Choosing gold class tickets meant the food was included, and the seating private. The hunter looked spooked by human interaction, Lance ordering steak dinners for the pair of them because damn if he wasn’t in the mood for some budget dead cow. Buying the biggest coke they had, Lance enjoyed the fact that the mix ratio was whack with more syrup than soda water, the straw ending up chewed on before they’d even made it into the screening room. Lance wasn’t sure about the movie selection but with Hunk and Shay going to see the one rom-com playing, Lance steered the group away from buying tickets for it so his bestie and Shay could enjoy seeing it for the first together.

Taking their seats, Lance wound up between Pidge and Keith. Pidge immediately started playing with the chair remote, and Keith sighed in annoyance. Leaning in, Lance kind of felt bad that they hadn’t wound up at a bar. Keith would have been able to have a few drinks and kick back, then find someone to take to the bathroom and work that aggression out. Just because he hadn’t done the do, didn’t mean Keith wasn’t a seasoned professional

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know we were going to see a movie”

“Whatever”

“I’m serious. I didn’t know. I would have dressed warmer if I did, and would have insisted you put a jacket on”

“I’m not a kid”

“I know you’re not. I just feel bad. I was hoping you’d be able to relax a little...”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore”

“Okay, but I really am sorry”

When dinner came out, Keith poked at until he finally gave in, pretty much wolfing it down, half an hour later Lance had to excuse himself to the bathroom, finding Keith gone when he returned. Taking his seat beside Pidge, Lance leaned in

“What happened to Keith?”

“He said he needed the bathroom. Didn’t you see him?”

“No. How long ago did he leave?”

“Not long after you... Dude, what’s your deal with him?”

“My what?”

“Your deal. What’s he still doing here?”

“I asked him to take some photos of the house for me”

Pidge crossed her arms

“If you’re going to lie, at least make it convincing”

“Who said I’m lying?”

“You did. I know you, and I know when you’re lying. Something’s off with Keith, and you’re acting really weird”

“I’m not acting weird”

“Are you two dating? Is that why you’re being weird? You feel like you can’t talk to us...”

“No! No, no, no, no, no... ewww. No. I’m not dating him, he’s a stranger”

“A stranger you bring to a movie night with your best friends”

“It was either leave him the house or bring him with me”

“So he’s staying with you, like, staying staying?”

“Only for tonight. Shiro’s going to pick him up. I’m thinking of repainting the living room closer to its original colours, and I figured having a fresh set of photos would work”

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

Pidge’s words went right over his head, before looping back and slapping him in the face. Pidge had had her feathers ruffled by Keith “taking” what would have been her “job”

“Because, my Pidgeon legged friend, you would start hunting for ghosts in my house, then try to steal Blue as you left”

“You’re dodging the question”

“I’m not dodging the question. I only asked him because he’s a professional. You’re still my number one tech guru. I’m sorry I’ve been sick and haven’t been able to hang out, but I’ve missed my gremlin. No one can replace my little anger muffin”

“You’re a wanker”

“So I’ve been told”

“Has your cold when passed? You still look pale”

“Yep. Clean bill of health from the doctor. Just the usual take it easy for the next few days, fluids, sleep, platonic dates with your best friends, the usual post cold instructions”

“I’m still shocked you’ve got Keith staying with you”

“I’m shocked too. But I keep telling myself it’s only for a few days and soon it’ll all be over”

“Dude, he was wearing your clothes”

“And?”

“Lance, you know I’d never judge you for your sexuality...”

Lance laughed, him and Keith simply too ridiculous to even go there

“It’s definitely not like that”

“Are you sure? I mean... I’ve never seen you like this...”

“What? Invaded by a photographer?”

“No, not like that... I mean... like, he’s wearing your clothes, staying at your house... it’s not like you”

“Keith didn’t have any clothes that weren’t a crime against fashion, or acceptable at a bar, which I totally thought we were going to, thanks to a certain someone. Nah, he’s just staying a couple of days then Shiro is going to pick him back up and that’s that”

“Something still feels off”

“Pidge, I promise I’m okay, and I promise Keith and I aren’t in some whirlwind romance, or whatever that brain of yours has thought up. I’m actually pretty sure he hates me, if that makes you feel any better”

“Nope. It just makes it weirder... Should we be worried that he hasn’t come back?”

“Nah, I’ll go see if I can find him. Dude’s got the social aptitude of a rockmelon. He probably peopled himself out and is having a sulk”

“If you say so. Now go away, I’ve already missed part of this riveting plot”

The plot wasn’t riveting. It was badly thought through and designed for the masses. Like most things...

Keith wasn’t in the cinemas entrance hall, nor the bathroom, Lance heading outside to search for him. Not at the front of the cinema, Lance was starting to get pretty annoyed with his missing idiot. The last place left to check was the parking lot, where he found said idiot cornered by three men. Great... just... great. He took his eyes off him for two minutes and he’d already wandered off into trouble. Walking over to stand just short of the three strangers, Lance eyes Keith who had his arms crossed, scowling at the group

“Heya, fellas. Something wrong here?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“You know, just a concerned citizen. You’ve got my friend cornered, so if you could just see it in your hearts to let him go...”

Lance stepped back, escaping being hit in the face as the stranger bared his teeth. What the fuck?! Was Keith dense as fuck? Or did he think he had the skill to take on three idiots

“Your wallet or you life”

“Seeing you’re getting neither, I suggest you run along home”

“What did you say to me?!”

They hadn’t even had to go to bar to find trash. Lance sighed as he pulled out his phone

“Well, we are living in the age of technology. This miraculous little device lets me call the police when people like you start messing with people”

“You won’t get the chance”

“We’ll see”

Avoiding being attacked was laughable. His attackers had like zero grace, they must instead rely on numbers to look “intimidating”. Each swing that didn’t connect made them madder, their “leader” pulling out a small blade, as Lance danced around them. Putting the phone to his ear, he made as if he was calling the police and not his home phone

“I’m going to kill you...”

Raising his pointer to his lips, Lance hushed the man

“Didn’t anyone teach you its rude to interrupt someone on a phone call?”

If someone was watching, the would have found the way the three morons were falling over each other hilarious

“Yes, hi, I’d like to report an attempted robbery at the front of Platt Pictures. There’s three guys that have bailed up two men...”

Dropping down to dodge the punch thrown at his face, Lance swept the leg of the leader, snatching his blade out his hand as the man’s eyes widened for the millisecond as he fell

“Yep. There still here... I’ll wait. You guys should probably run if you’re going to. Cops are on their way”

The look in the leaders eyes was something feral, spitting like it made him cool, the man wiped his mouth

“I’ll get you for this”

“I’ll be waiting, but I won’t be holding my breath. Also, I’ll be keeping hold of this blade of yours. Evidence and all that. It’s amazing this fingerprint technology...”

“Forget it, lets scram!”

When the leaders two goons split, the man pushed himself up, running off like the coward he was. Lance giving them a little wave as they did. Ending the call to his house, Lance slipped his phone back in his pocket, before holding out the blade to Keith

“Here, a souvenir of our time together”

“I could have handled that”

Lance rolled his eyes

“Never said you couldn’t. Anyway, take it. You seem to like knives and I’ve got no use for it”

Keith frowned at the offered knife

“But the police...”

“Aren’t coming. Let’s just say I have a job where I need to keep my name squeaky clean”

“What the hell?!”

Lance sighed at Keith

“What? Do you want me to call them? I totally can, I remember all their facial features”

“You didn’t do me a favour...”

“Never said I did. Oh, you totally skipped out on movie night. Do I want to ask why you’re not inside pretending to be scared like everyone else”

“The movie was shit”

“Finally, something we can agree on. But, Hunk and Pidge are trying to be friendly with you, so leaving is kind of a dick move”

“They don’t even like me”

“They might if you’re not out here hiding. Also, Pidge thinks we’re dating, so come on darling, we’ve got a movie to finish”

Lance took Keith by the wrist. Socialising wasn’t about to kill him

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Dragging Keith’s along, Lance spoke as they walked

“Well, that’s a long story. You see a long time ago a little boy was turned into a vampire. He grew up to become a lawyer, living as human like as he could, as he tried his hardest to give back to humanity so no other little kids got hurt. He never fed from a single person, took a lover, or like harmed any one more than what you just saw... You could say things were going well for him and he was happy. That was until two hunters crashed into his little corner of the world. He was forced to drink blood from an actual person for the first time in his life. Which upset him, because he felt he’d lost a little of the humanity he wanted. Now he’s trying his hardest for a stranger who wants him dead, and refuses to listen to him, because he’s some disgusting, revolting, beast that deserves that’s not even fit to be on the bottom of your shoe”

“That’s just it, why are you trying?”

“I don’t know, and that’s what’s getting under my skin”

Dragging Keith the whole back to their seats, they got there in time for the heroic ending where the main character saved the day. Hunk was sobbing, Pidge had gotten herself some skittles and was attempting to catch them in her mouth as she made a mess around her. Seeing they’d mostly missed the film, he and Keith remained standing there until the credits started and Pidge called “time to bail”. Ditching holding Keith’s wrist, because he’d honestly forgotten he had, Lance wrapped his arm around Hunk’s waist

“Good movie?”

“She was so brave...”

“I know, man”

Pidge cuddled up to his side until Lance looped his other arm around her

“What did you think?”

“It sucked. There were so many plot holes. I want my money back”

“Aw, never mind Pidgeon. It’s over now”

“That’s 133 minutes of my life I am never going to get back. You and Keith are arseholes. You missed most of the film!”

“Are we arseholes, or are you cranky we escaped?”

“You’re both definitely arseholes”

“Now, to be fair, Keith hit his people limit of the day. You’d never know, for all his conversational skills, but he’s a lot like you, Pidgeroonie. He gets very tired of people fast, and cannot do the brain without the coffee”

“That’s because people fucking suck!”

Pidge’s loudness caused the people walking near them to stare, staring was awkward forever one involved, Lance didn’t want the night to end awkwardly

“Okay, that’s enough exposure to the public for one night. Why don’t we grab something and head home? I’ll even pay”

“Yay! I want a super sized slushie. I should have thought of it sooner. I wonder if that slushie place with the weird flavours is still open”

Hunk groaned

“You’re making me do city driving?”

“Dude, relax. It’s night time, meaning there aren’t as many people on the road. Consider it practice for your date”

Hunk blushed, Lance laughing happily

“Don’t be mean to him, I’ll drive. Pidge, you’re in directions. Hunk, music, naturally, Keith, you get to sit in the back with Pidge and make sure she doesn’t get up too much mischief”

“What? Why?”

“Because I said so”

*

Keith opted to stay in the car and be a buzz killer as the three of them rushed to the slushie store. Minutes from closing, they were those annoying customers that all retail staff dread. Pidge was in heaven as she eyed the walls of flavour, Lance paying and limiting her to two without added energy drink. Hunk went for bubblegum flavour, Lance for strawberry. Keith hadn’t come in, but part of Lance didn’t want him feeling left out. With all the scowling faces Keith had pulled since they’d met, lemon was ruled out as a potential flavour, instead he went for iced coffee labeled as being lactose free. Keith might not be the nicest person in the world, but that didn’t mean Lance was going to be a douche over something Keith couldn’t control. He knew the man liked coffee, so it was the most logical choice. Pidge ended up unable to decide. One abomination made of orange, pineapple and mango, the second strawberry, bubblegum and coke. Making sure he’d left the woman behind the counter a very generous tip, Lance ushered Pidge and Hunk back to Hunk’s car, a little proud of himself when he got Keith’s door open with his foot in the door handle. Glaring up at him, Lance beamed in pride

“I got you one”

“I don’t need one”

“Yes, you did. It’s iced coffee, lactose free. Consider it an apology for venting on you earlier, if you need an excuse to take it”

Handing Keith the drink, Keith eyed it in suspicion

“Dude, it’s fine. Legit went from the machine to the cup then out to you. Pinky swear and all that. If you don’t want to drink it, I won’t get offended. I just thought it’d be nice to include you”

“Whatever. Thanks and stuff”

“You’re welcome. Let’s get you back home away from all these people so you can take a nap”

Keith’s expression soured, Lance was sure he was going to have the iced coffee slushy thrown at him, so shut the door quickly. Keith wouldn’t be a big enough douche to ruin Hunk’s interior. Hunk was a human, someone Keith was supposed to protect, meaning hurting his feelings had to go against whatever code hunters were bound to. Being caught up in everything going on, Matt came to his mind as Lance opened the driver’s door, his heart sinking. He hadn’t thought about Matt all night. Pidge had probably spent the whole night missing her brother and wishing it was him at the movies with them instead of Keith. He didn’t want to seem down, but it was hard to perk himself up now that he’d remembered he didn’t know how to act around Pidge. Climbing into Hunk’s car only made his heart ache more as Pidge and Hunk bickered over her flavour combinations. There was a code of privacy within VOLTRON, so he couldn’t enquire into Matt’s status. He couldn’t do anything to help Pidge with her Matt situation except for maybe confirm he was alive, which Shiro had already confirmed. Goddamn Shiro. He was ruining his night and the man wasn’t even here.

[loulougoingsolo]

My thoughts on Rhett’s story

Rhett telling the story of his spiritual journey made me feel more than I thought was possible for me, and this post is my attempt to put my feelings to words. I don’t know if any of what I wrote under the break makes any sense, but if you’re interested, go ahead and click through. Just in case, TW: religion and TW: mental health, although I didn’t really go into anything specific.

And because my text is a bit of a mess, if it leaves you with thoughts or questions, I’m open for discussion. Right now I feel like there is a bouncy ball going randomly around in my brain, and I need to spend the rest of this day in trying to make it stop.

I spent most of my 60 minute therapy session yesterday talking about all the things Rhett’s story on Ear Biscuits made me feel and think. I’ve been in a bit of a loop all week, trying to figure out why I felt so much. I’ve never really been able to believe in a god or a higher power, yet hearing Rhett tell about how painful his process of losing faith was, made me feel his pain, and somehow my own, and it confused the heck out of me.

I planned to write a more comprehensive commentary post about this Ear Biscuit, but every time I’ve started, my emotions have taken over me, and I had to skip the original idea of including the links to the books Rhett mentions. Instead of being factual, logical and scientific about this, I’m just going to explain how I felt, why I felt it, and what I think about all this.

So, I’m not religious. Most times, everything outside of logic confuses me. I want to know facts, and base all my decisions on the real things, and that’s just the way I am. I have serious trust issues in my everyday life, but in a way, also when it comes to spirituality. I also have serious issues with maintaining control, and the thought of losing this control freaks me out – in small things and major, life-changing things. Losing control feels like someone suddenly pulls the rug from under my feet, and I fall from an airplane without a parachute. Or as if I was first sitting safely in a boat, but suddenly, I was dropped into the ocean in the middle of open water, with nothing to hold on to, and no solid ground beneath my feet. At this point, if you’ve listened to Rhett’s story, jumping from a boat to water is how he described the moment he realized he could no longer believe in the god he had believed in for his entire life.

Rhett’s religion was based on the bible, and on a complete trust in god and Jesus. His faith was what provided him security, happiness, way of living and a path to follow. He had everything figured out, and all he needed to do was follow this path. There is such security in knowing what you are supposed to do.

I wasn’t raised to believe in god. I believed, and still do, in science and knowledge. At around the same time as when Rhett decided to pursue a path as being a missionary, and saving the souls of non-believers, I was absolutely certain that I had a similar path all paved and ready. I was going to be a science-woman, I  was studying environmental biology in the university, and was driven by my desire to save the world. I had found my passion for environmental work as a teenager, and everything in my life was directing me to this path.

Rhett had to really push himself over the years to be able to ignore his doubts. He wanted to believe, because his faith was the basis for his entire being. When he finally couldn’t erase all of his doubts, he suddenly had nothing to believe in – and even though he says multiple times he wasn’t traumatized by anything in the church, he most certainly experienced massive trauma when he had to let go of it all. He didn’t choose to lose faith, yet he did, and losing everything you believe in is traumatic.

Not believing in higher powers, and having all the trust issues I have, I’ve ever only been able to believe in myself. Too bad, it turned out around when I was 23, that I wasn’t quite as trustworthy as I believed myself to be. I’ve been socially awkward, anxious and a perfectionist for as long as I can remember, and because of my anxieties, I didn’t ever really get close to other people. I survived through high school and childhood mostly by being pretty smart and just clueless enough to actually realize if someone tried to bully me. I knew I never really had very good friends like the other kids, but I was an introvert, and perfectly happy on my own – and it was my fortune that I grew up in a small community, and went to school with the same kids from kindergarten to end of high school. Life was stable and safe. Too bad, it didn’t really prepare me for the big world, and when life got too complicated for me to handle, I lost faith in myself and was left with nothing.

I tried to be what I expected myself to be, and what I assumed my parents, the society, my high school teachers and everyone around me expected me to be. At 23, I couldn’t return to my university classes after the summer break, and I was in the deepest personal crisis I have ever been. I felt like a failure, and I felt I could never again face anyone I knew, because I had let them and myself down. I sought help, went to therapy, and at one point, realized that the path I assumed I would follow wasn’t for me. I had to tell my family I wouldn’t be going back to university. I had to accept that I couldn’t control all of my feelings with logic, and thus lost the foundation to my existence.

It took me quite a few years of therapy and rebuilding myself to get to where I’m at today. First, I found my joy of making art – something that the science life had almost successfully deleted from my life. I went to study jewellery making, and slowly started to believe in myself again – only to experience quite a few relapses along the way. Despite finding a new path in my life in doing art and making jewellery, I still had to come to grips with the fact that I was on the asexual spectrum, and bisexual, and I’m currently, with the help of my therapist and psychiatrist, figuring out if some of my lifelong problems might be based on being neurodiverse (I’ve been going to tests for this for a while now). All of this has forced me to accept that I can’t control my life quite as much as I’d like, and I’m still trying to find a balance between the logical and the emotional parts of what makes me, me. I feel so much more whole now than back 20 years ago, even though there are so many things I can’t know for sure.

Rhett had to rebuild his belief system, and re-evaluate what his core values in life were. He has gone through the painful process of telling his loved ones that he no longer believes the things they still believe, and he basically had to rebuild his marriage from a different perspective – and by the sounds of it, he and Jessie are now in a good place in their relationship.

What struck me most about listening to Rhett’s story is that despite him starting out as a devoted Christian, and me starting out as more than anything, a religiously scientific, somehow, in 40+ years, we’ve somehow come to many of the same conclusions, and despite the obvious differences, we have a lot in common. We both lost the foundation to our lives and had to rebuild ourselves on firmer ground.

I wouldn’t describe myself a hopeful agnostic, but I have to admit there are so many things in this universe I can’t fully comprehend, and even though I can’t believe in a higher power, I feel connected to everything in this world through nature. Thinking about the universe, I’ve understood that the human existence is such a tiny fraction of everything that sometimes it feels absurd how much time and effort our species has spent trying to explain it all. In the end, all religions are attempts to explain the things we don’t know for a fact, and what we believe is only the result of the culture we’ve grown up in. In the grand scheme of things, we are friggin’ small.

I need to end this (probably very incoherent) post before I get sucked into the loop again – but I also have to get this posted so I can get it out of my system. I think Rhett’s current philosophy of living his life the best way he can, and focusing on this one life he can be certain of instead of worrying too much about what happens after he’s dead, is a pretty good idea. In my own life, I’ll continue on my path of learning to accept myself with flaws and all, and instead of trying to fit into a specific box of any kind, I’ll focus on shaping my own kind of container. I still struggle with accepting that not everything can be controlled, but sometimes losing control can create something pretty amazing. I kind of lost the control of my emotions while listening to Rhett’s story, but after almost a week of processing everything his words brought to surface in me, I am grateful for him sharing his story. I’ve never felt more proud for being a Mythical Beast – being a part of this community has enrichened my life more than words can express.

[laniakeabooks]

Free to Fall by Lauren Miller, A Rant Review by Laniakea

Hello. How are you?

It’s been a long ass time. Why? My dumbass decided to take summer courses. You know those super condensed ones? The ones that make you want to rip your eyeballs out? Yeah... I took three at once. What was I thinking, right? I couldn’t tell you. I regret it. 

BUT. I still managed to read. And in July I read this gem of a book dubbed Free to Fall, written by Lauren Miller. And oooooooooh boy do I have shit to say about this... shit. So, brace yourselves, because this is a long and angry one.  

So, this is how this review is going to go:

       The major issues I had with this book and its narrative (when I say major issues, I mean MAJOR ISSUES… like, dare I say, problematic aspects of this book).

       Because it’s me, the deplorable excuse for science/neuroscience that Lauren Miller apparently didn’t find the need to take five minutes to google-check the concepts she was using.

       The little things that just kind of twisted the knife of annoyance

You may be saying: “Wait a second, she isn’t going to be talking about anything that the book did right.” And to that I say: “The things that the book did right? Nothing, IN MY OPINION. The thing that Lauren Miller did right, though, was write in a style that jives with my personal tastes. She didn’t beat around the bush to say something, she just said it outright. WHICH I LIKE, because, I don’t have time or the patience to suss out all of those little details and symbolisms just to get to the point that (for example) it’s a beautiful day.” There. Positive point. Hey, I didn’t rate it one star because it had a lot of positives.

So, let’s get started, shall we? (Shout-out to Corrine and Rob because damn, they’ve had a tough year.)

Issue #1: This is the biggest issue I had with this book. It has nothing to do with the plot or the characters or anything like that, but it’s what bothers me the most. What is it, you may ask? Well, it’s the simple fact that everyone in this book (and I have to assume Lauren Miller too) refers to the mentally ill as “crazy”. If you don’t understand my issue with this, let me explain. Calling someone who is mentally ill “crazy” is equivalent to calling a black person a “nigger” or calling a gay person a “faggot”. The word crazy is used as a slur to put someone beneath you, to make them less believable or trustworthy… to dehumanize them. It’s derogatory and offensive. It’s time that we stop using that word when talking about mental illness. It’s 2019 (2014 in the book’s case). Unacceptable.

So, when do we see the mentally ill referred to as crazy in Free to Fall? Throughout the entire book pretty much. It’s just said over and over and over again. But the worst instance? Here it is as a direct quote from page 127 (Oh, and mind you, the character saying this is a psychologist teaching a cognitive psychology class. Let that sink in.):

“You’ve all been given limited access to the Department of Public Health’s medical records database,” Rudd said as he returned to the front of the room.

(*record scratch* Wait a second, high school students having access to medical files? Absolutely not. Would never happen. You usually can’t even get your hands on medical records unless you’re the patient’s doctor. So that’s a technical issue with this book… one of many. Again, five minutes on Google, Lauren. Okay, back to the whole “crazy” thing.)

“Your login has been coded to the research topic you selected, allowing you to review the med records for patients who suffered from the mental illness you’re studying.” He picked up his tablet off his desk and tapped the DPH icon. The app launched on the screen at the front of the room. “Now, I know what some of you are thinking,” he deadpanned as he logged himself in. “You’re hoping this means you’ll be able to prove once and for all that your frenemy in a certified nut job. But, alas, your access is limited to dead crazies, and this particular database is anonymous anyway, which means the only identifying information you’ll have are gender, ethnic origin, and birth and death dates.”

That’s right. Lauren Miller had this character say, “dead crazies”. Dead. Crazies. The note I wrote in the margin right beside this passage? Word for word: FUCK YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT. Not sure if I’m directing this at Lauren Miller, Rudd or both, but I stand by it. In reality though, I don’t think there are any words to describe how disgusted and offended (and it’s VERY hard to offend me) I am by those two words. At this point, page 137 out of page 469, I decided this book would get a 1 star and a damning review.

“Oh, you’re being so petty.” Yeah bitch, I sure fucking am.

“It’s just a word.” No bitch, it fucking ain’t.

“You shouldn’t read books that say things like that.” Well bitch, I didn’t know books written in 2014 would use derogatory words like crazy. And I’d rather it be me who reads it and warns people about it than have someone who is vulnerable read it and take it seriously.

I am a huge advocate for mental illness and destigmatizing it. It’s time we stop using this disgusting derogatory word when talking about mental illness. And a good place to start is right here in the media.

Issue #2: Rory and North are preparing to roofie someone. That’s right. Roofie. As in drug them against their will. Assault them. Violate them. And to make it worse, they’re planning to administer it intravenously, because the whole assault thing wasn’t despicable enough. BUT DON’T WORRY YOU GUYS! North says he’ll get some legal drugs from a pharmacist because that makes it okay.

He objects for 0.5 seconds… but it doesn’t last. Here’s how the conversation goes:

“The only question is, how do we take Liam out of commission for a couple of hours?” North asked.

“We roofie him” I say without hesitation. “It’ll incapacitate him without killing him, and it’ll screw with his memories.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll just grab the bottle of date-rape pills I have in my medicine cabinet.”

“Not pills,” I corrected. “Has to be injectable. There’s no way we can guarantee that he’ll drink whatever we put it in.”

North gave me an incredulous look. “You’re actually serious?”

“What? It’s what the society uses. And it’ll do exactly what we need it to do.

North tugged at this Mohawk. “I know we don’t have time to get into this right now, but, holy crap, Rory, this shit is seriously messed up.”

“You’re right. Not the time. We have to go buy roofies.”

“Where, at Walgreens? I’m sure we’ll find them right next to the Advil.”

I crossed my arms, irritated by the sarcasm. “You’re a guy with a Mohawk and tattoos. Don’t you know people?”

“People with Rohypnol?”

“So, you don’t know anyone who can get it?”

He started to shake his head but seemed to think of something. “One of my clients is a pharmacist in Greenfield. I could probably get a prescription sleeping serum from him. Something potent but legal. I can message him from my apartment.”

North said it, this is so messed up… but is surpasses the “messed up” title and deserves the “fucked up” title. By the way, they never talk about it again. Getting “legal” drugs does not make the act of drugging someone okay. Ever. And on top of that Rory wants someone that will mess with Liam’s memories? I guess assaulting him and revoking his control over his own body wasn’t evil enough for Rory, she had to fuck with the essence of who he is.    

Moving on to the… “science”. Listen, I get it, this is fiction. It doesn’t have to be 100% in line with reality. But do you know what isn’t fiction? Neuroscience. Science that has already been researched and accepted. Why does this matter so much to me? I hate misinformation. It leads to fear and people doing stupid shit. Also, I am an aspiring neuroscientist myself and would like for people to understand how the brain works on a physiological (and psychological) level. That way there will be less of that “vaccines cause autism” and “sunscreen causes ADHD” crap, because they don’t, by the way.

Lauren Miller latches onto the term “synaptic pruning”. This is a real thing. During your first few months of life, unused/rarely used neurons will die (don’t worry, this is perfectly normal and an essential step in neurodevelopment). How does Lauren Miller incorporate this into her story?

“Now we knew that the inner voice was nothing more than a glitch in the brain’s circuitry, something to do with ‘synaptic pruning’ and the development of the frontal lobe.” (p.13)

My response went something like this: NoOOoooOOOOoOo! It’s only page 13 and I’m being subjected to poorly researched scienceeeeeeEEEeEEEeeee.

It would have taken five minutes on Google to look up: Which areas of the brain have to do with hearing voices? Answer: temporal and frontal lobes. Done. Next: why do people hear voices? Answer: potentially neuronal death in said brain regions (not synaptic pruning, very different concepts). Why? We don’t know yet. Anyway, the voice they are talking about here is “The Doubt” which is basically intuition so that would most likely relate to the hippocampus (and other memory-storing regions) and the prefrontal cortex. But then again, “The Doubt” is supposed to be altruism… but it’s written as intuition, so I’m just confused.

Next in bad (neuro)science, Lauren Miller claims that enzymes for memories (this relates back to the whole roofie scene where Rory wants to mess with Liam’s memories too). Basically, neurotransmitters are responsible for memories, namely glutamate and dopamine. I’ll be talking about glutamate here because dopamine forms the “do that again because it made us feel good” kind of memory, and glutamate forms the kind of memory Lauren Miller is referring to. You need to glutamate for LTP (basically a memory) which, in short, is strengthening the connection between two neurons. If you’ve ever heard the term “Neurons that fire together wire together.”, that’s exactly what I’m talking about here. So, no, enzymes do not form memories. (P.S. LTP is really interesting... if you’re interested in brains, so check it out!)

Onto “SynOx” (synthetic oxytocin) which is really, from what I understand, simulates oxytocin but activating oxytocin receptors on neurons (Lauren Miller doesn’t go into this much detail on how SynOx works, but I’m just trying to understand by talking through it so bear with me). First of all, Lauren Miller describes oxytocin as the “love drug” which isn’t exactly true… it’s more of a bonding “drug”. Love is a little but more complicated than oxytocin release. Not that big of a deal, but I thought I’d point it out.

Unfortunately, SynOx has a major role in the plot… and it doesn’t… work. Basically, the big bad corporation is relying on SynOx to make consumers trust their products unconditionally by injecting people with SynOx nanobots under the guise of a flu shot. That way the nanobots can get into their brains and they can be forced to trust everything Lux suggests. Essential mass mind control. Theoretically that could actually work… BUT the nanobots would never be able to cross the blood-brain barrier to actually get into the brain, and therefor wouldn’t be there to allow Gnosis to control people. Did that make sense? Basically, SynOx is the soldier, the brain is enemy headquarters. But enemy headquarters is so highly reinforced that the soldier can’t get in to do its job, so it’s left out in the cold with no power. Maybe I just confused you, but what I’m saying is that this SynOx would never work as a mind control device unless it is injected directly into the brain (or even spinal cord)… through the skull and everything. That being said, the evil plot would have failed form the get-go.

And yes, I do hate being this rational sometimes because suspension of disbelief is very difficult and makes it very hard for me to enjoy some works of fiction.      

Now the little things.

In the synopsis: “Rory Vaugh: a brainy sixteen-year-old…”. She’s also a “hepta” which means she shows aptitude in all seven liberal arts at Theden and makes her the smartest kid at school. Well, she sure doesn’t act it.

She can’t tell the difference between Arabic and Hebrew writing. I mean… are you serious? Have you seen them? They look nothing alike.

Doesn’t see the value of experiments in ethics such as the Trolley Problem. I mean, one of the liberal arts is philosophy and she’s supposed to be naturally gifted at it… but I guess not.

Proudly states she took human anatomy in grade nine (and considers herself an expert from that one class in middle school)… but doesn’t know how ABO relates to blood. I guess she forgot the mention she failed the class.

Also seems to consider herself an expert in genetics but never thinks to ask herself as to why she and her father share zero genetic traits.

She can’t figure out a simple riddle (You know that one about the letter e? Yeah that one)

It takes her forever to figure out who her biological father is (should be glaringly obvious from a certain physical description and all the other evidence Rory gathers)

Doesn’t know what a USB is or what it does (Oh, I’ll get to that in a minute)

There’s so much more… but the review would have to be a whole book if I were to list them all. Basically, if you’re going to call your character a genius, MAKE SURE THEY ACT LIKE ONE.

It seems that Lauren Miller forgot Rory’s blood type (little detail, I know), but instead of going back to look at what she wrote, she just gives her a new blood type. Rory goes from being A+ at p .226 to being AB+ at p. 237/238. That’s just lazy.

When Rory finds out the man that raised her and loved her doesn’t share her genetics, all of a sudden, he’s no longer her dad. Imagine being a vulnerable teenager who is being raised and loved by someone who may not be biologically related to you and reading that a character you may look up to goes through the same thing and says that that makes that parent’s love irrelevant. They aren’t related to you, so they’re not your dad/mum. How sad. 

Now, the USB thing. This book is set in the mid-2030s and they don’t use USBs anymore. Basically, they’re obsolete technology. And that’s fine! There will come a day when this is a reality. Here’s the thing, though: Rory the “genius” doesn’t know what it is or what it does. You expect me to believe that? When I see a floppy disk (which I have never used), I know what it is and how it works. Even a telegraph! I’ve only ever seen pictures of telegraphs, but I know what they are and what they do.

Page 229. North says (in response to Rory talking about research and science):

“Whose research are we talking about here?” He scoffed. “’Science’ with a capital S? The same geniuses who said the Earth was the center of the universe?”

Um… the church actually said that. And then they murdered anyone who dared to say otherwise. Wrong “geniuses”, genius. (Also, scientists rethink their beliefs all the time, and are more than willing to accept discoveries that overwrite their previous beliefs as long as there is evidence. Just saying.)

Rory goes from relying solely on Lux to make her decision to criticizing everyone who does the exact same thing within a few pages. Hypocrisy, not my favourite.

Hershey is described as a naturally beautiful woman who wears makeup to highlight that beauty… but the tone of the narration suggests that that’s a bad thing? Gross.

When they are preparing for the final boss fight, Rory wants North to write an algorithm that will reverse Lux’s algorithm. North says that it would take weeks for a professional programmer to write an algorithm like that… than proceeds to do it overnight. And manages to get some roofies to assault Liam.

North gifts Rory with a necklace that contains a tracking device and a camera… and she thinks that’s romantic and sweet because hE cArEs. I… have no words for how creepy (and honestly bordering on abusive) that is.

So, in conclusion, I feel that Lauren Miller wrote an offensive mess that didn’t know what the hell it was talking about, topped with despicable (and flat) characters that think drugging someone against their will is okay as long as the drug you use is legal.

The end! 😊

Oh yeah, 1 out of 5 stars!

[mikauzoran]

Adrienette Drabble Twenty-Four: Request

Gabriel really wanted to akumatize someone. Honestly, he needed the stress relief because the deadlines were closing in on him, and the backers kept changing their minds, and he was about ready to tear his hair out.

He briefly considered taking up yoga or meditation. He’d read something about those being good for stress in one of the books about anxiety he’d read to help Adrien.

Gabriel looked down at his screen and sighed. He’d been working on this last-minute project for the past three hours, and he really needed a break. He couldn’t take a break if he wanted to go to sleep at a decent time. 

He really wanted to go whine at Nathalie. She would have something constructive to say.

He was also tempted to go find Plagg. Plagg had elevated kvetching to an art form, and Plagg would definitely have a snarky and poignant remark that would make Gabriel’s personal deadline hell a bit more bearable.

It was at this time that Gabriel was surprised to find himself thinking about Nooroo. The little kwami had always been so…oddly enough, supportive. Tentatively encouraging Gabriel…only to be snapped at, fussing over Gabriel’s health and well-being (to be forcibly silenced), worrying when Gabriel pushed himself too hard, hesitantly trying to comfort Gabriel when he failed time and time again…Nooroo had been unwavering in his dedication to his master. And Gabriel had treated Nooroo as a tool, a thing with no thoughts or feelings.

Gabriel had never thought of kwamis as sentient beings before meeting Plagg, and now—

There was a knock at the atelier door.

“Come in?”

Adrien tentatively peeked his head inside. “Hi, Dad. Is now a good time?” 

Adrien mentally crossed his fingers because it hadn’t been a good time the past week and a half, and now he only had two hours until he had to leave if he were going to go.

Gabriel looked down at the urgent email that required an immediate response. He pursed his lips. “Is this important?”

Adrien wilted slightly and was forced to admit, “…No. No, it’s not important. I just had to ask your permission for something.”

“Then why don’t you ask Nathalie?” Gabriel proposed, delighting in the fact that he now had an official co-parent in his fiancée to whom he could cede authority without society criticizing him for neglecting his child.

“I already did,” Adrien begrudgingly confessed.

Gabriel’s brow creased in confusion. “And…?”

“She said yes, but then she said I needed to go ask you because you would most likely say no,” Adrien informed out of the side of his mouth, reluctantly releasing the information.

“Can this wait?” Gabriel looked back down at his screen and the additional emails that had arrived that he’d need to deal with. “I’m actually quite busy at the moment, and I don’t really have time for—”

Gabriel stopped dead when he realized he was about to tell his son that he didn’t have time for him.

Gabriel closed his mouth, really looked at Adrien—hopeful yet not truly believing, battered dog wondering if he was going to get kicked this time—and sighed. “Give me ten minutes to finish this email correspondence. Can this wait ten minutes?”

“Yes, Father,” Adrien replied, brightening incrementally.

“All right. Go wait for me in the dining room in the seating area. If I’m not there in ten minutes, please come back and remind me that part of the reason I’m even running this fashion empire in the first place is to provide for my son. I get caught up in the work and forget sometimes,” Gabriel confessed with a weary sigh.

Adrien grinned, practically glowing at being reminded that he was important. “Thanks, Dad.”

It was concerning how easy it was to make that boy happy.

 “All right,” Gabriel sighed, taking a seat across the coffee table from Adrien. “What did you need to ask my permission for that Nathalie thinks I’m going to veto?”

Adrien bit his lip. “So…there’s this party.”

“Oh,” Gabriel groaned. “I see.”

“Yeah,” Adrien sighed.

“Keep talking,” Gabriel urged. “I’ll try to be open-minded.”

“Chloé’s throwing a graduation party tonight since…well, you know. We graduated high school this morning,” Adrien continued awkwardly.

Gabriel bit the inside of his cheek. “How many people are going to be there?”

“One or two hundred-ish?” Adrien guesstimated. “The people from our year mostly and their dates and plus ones.”

Gabriel nodded. “And where is this party taking place?”

“Chloé rented a boat. They’re going to do the same stretch up and down the Seine as the bateaux mouches from the Eiffel Tower to just past Notre Dame.”

“And will there be drinking?” Gabriel continued his investigation.

Adrien winced. “Well…we’re all eighteen now, so…”

“If you were allowed to go, would you be drinking?” Gabriel changed the question.

Adrien opened his mouth to vehemently deny any intention of wrongdoing, but Gabriel cut him off.

“—Don’t just tell me what you think I want to hear. How am I supposed to trust you on your own if we can’t sit down and honestly discuss expectations and guidelines and-and…I forget what else the parenting guidebooks said, but the gist of it was that you were supposed to be able to tell me you were thinking about having sex, and then I was not to overreact and forbid it and lock you in your room as would be my natural inclination, but I was instead to make sure that you were having safe sex instead of going behind my back. I assume that the same principles apply to allowing you to go to parties or karaoke or what have you.”

Adrien winced again, trying not to think too hard about this very awkward conversation they were having. “Okay. Fine. So if you let me go to the party, I’ll probably sip at a glass of wine or two depending on if there’s food to have with it, but, regardless, I’m not going to get drunk because I know being drunk in public is against the rules for very good reasons. Even if it weren’t, I can’t get drunk because what if there’s an akuma? I have to be sober enough to fight. If I’m not, who’s going to protect Ma—My Lady?”

Gabriel nodded slowly. “That’s…very mature of you.” His son seemed to be constantly surprising him now that Gabriel took the time to notice.

Adrien shrugged. “A lot of people count on me to keep them safe; I don’t have the luxury of being a stupid teenager. Besides, I’d never forgive myself if I were irresponsible and something happened to Ladybug because of it…. I love her too much to risk it.”

Suddenly, from the look in Adrien’s eyes and the expression on his face, Gabriel thought he knew who Ladybug was, and it was a very scary thought.

“Wouldn’t you do the same for Mother or Nathalie?” Adrien tried to make Gabriel understand, not knowing the truth of how far exactly his father had gone for Emilie.

“Of course,” Gabriel replied softly. “…So…I gather that I don’t need to worry about your comportment, if I allow you to go to this party?”

“I don’t think so. I’m not advertently going to get myself on the front of the gossip rags. I was just planning on dancing and chatting with friends. And, I mean, it’s been years since I’ve done a boat ride down the Seine, so that sounded like fun,” Adrien tentatively made his case.

Gabriel snickered, “So no dancing on tables or singing in public tonight?”

Adrien’s face went strawberry red. “There was no table dancing the other night either,” he protested. “I know that if I want to dance on tables, I’ll have to do so as Chat Noir because Adrien Agreste would never get away with it.”

“Is dancing on tables something you would be interested in?” Gabriel had to wonder.

Adrien pursed his lips in thought for a moment before replying. “…Yes? It looks like fun.”

“…Don’t they often dance on tables in musicals? Perhaps we could find you a suitable musical to participate in,” Gabriel offered, trying to be supportive without having a solid grasp of how one managed that.

Adrien stared at his father, wondering how the man had transformed so much in such a short amount of time and, furthermore, why. Had it been because of Adrien’s struggles as of late? If Adrien had known that all it would take to get his father’s attention would be to have a mental breakdown, Adrien would have done so years earlier.

“I…would really, really like that,” Adrien replied in a small voice that hinted at how afraid he was to believe the proposal was a genuine one, lest he wind up disappointed yet again.

“Perhaps the four of us can watch some musicals together to try to find a good fit?” Gabriel suggested. “If Plagg doesn’t mind musicals.”

Truthfully, the prospect of theatre coming back into his life without Emilie along with it was an uncomfortable one for Gabriel, but…if it was important to Adrien…if theatre was something Adrien really wanted to do…

“Could we actually?” Adrien gawked openly at his father. “You’d be okay with that?”

Gabriel shifted, unsettled. “I’ve decided to work on being okay with it. If you’re serious?”

Adrien nodded. “I’ve always loved acting. These past few years…” He swallowed down the upwelling emotion. “I’ve missed it. I would really like acting to be a part of my life again, even without…”

Gabriel took a deep breath. “…Your mother would be proud of you. She…Emilie could chatter on about plays for hours…. I’m sorry that she’s not here to share this with you. I’m sorry that I can’t…can’t talk about theatre like she could.”

Adrien shook his head and smiled softly. “It’s okay, Dad. It’s not your fault.”

Gabriel was about to reply that it really was, even if Adrien couldn’t understand that at the moment, but Plagg poked his head out of Adrien’s shirt collar and fixed Gabriel with a knowing look.

“Gabe,” Plagg intoned. “What have we been talking about? Emilie isn’t your fault, okay?”

Gabriel grumbled in dissent. “We shall have to continue our debate on the subject of what exactly I am to be held accountable for at a later date, Plagg, as we still find ourselves in disagreement.”

“I’m going to win this debate,” Plagg warned. “But not in front of the kid.”

Gabriel gave a snort, and Plagg disappeared back down Adrien’s shirt out of habit.

Adrien furrowed his brow. “Do I want to know?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel answered honestly. “You’d probably want to know but then regret knowing. I’ll tell you in a few years, though. If or when you ever decide to move out. It will perhaps be easier to tell you if you’re leaving anyway.”

Adrien’s frown deepened. “Now I’m concerned. You haven’t killed anyone, have you?” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Gabriel’s eyebrows inched together almost imperceptibly…because he had. All the people killed when akuma destroyed buildings. All the people drowned when akuma put Paris underwater. The people frozen when Paris was encapsulated in ice. Adrien. Gabriel had killed Adrien so many times, it made him sick to even think about it.

Gabriel needed to buy Marinette some really high-end supplies in order to thank her for handing Gabriel his own behind and reviving his son so many times.

“Dad?” Adrien eyed him warily.

“No one is currently deceased by my doing,” Gabriel finally replied. “…Where were we?”

Adrien bit his lip, studying his father for a moment longer before shaking off the odd occurrence. “I was wondering…why did I never get in trouble for karaoke last week? I deliberately misled you and did something I knew you wouldn’t approve of.”

Gabriel took a deep breath and switched the cross of his legs. “That. Is a good question. By all rights, I should have grounded you and taken away privileges. The guidebooks recommend punishing you with the natural and logical consequences of your actions, so I was thinking I should say no the next few times you asked to do something to show you that when you’re dishonest with me, you lose my trust.”

“Sorry,” Adrien mumbled, casting his eyes downward.

“That makes two of us,” Gabriel sighed softly, his words painted with remorse. “I was disappointed that you felt the need to be dishonest with me. I know we’ve historically struggled with communication, but I thought we were doing better lately.”

“I really wanted to go,” Adrien whispered plaintively at his feet. “I was having a tough day at school. I gave eating in the lunchroom with Nino and Chloé and Sabrina another shot, and…it was pretty stressful, so, later, when Nino suggested karaoke with the gang…I really wanted to go,” Adrien repeated. “And you would have said no.”

“Of course I would have said no,” Gabriel sighed. “And I would have been wrong.”

Adrien cautiously looked up, a dozen questions in his gaze. “Really?”

Gabriel nodded. “You are aware that we monitor social media for mentions of you, yes?”

“Of course.”

“Apparently, Nathalie was informed not long after you arrived at the bar that you had been sighted there. She analyzed the situation and made the decision not to inform me until three quarters of the way into the night. I was exceedingly displeased, as I’m sure you can imagine; however, Nathalie interceded on your behalf. The feedback on social media was overwhelmingly positive. There was no dancing on tables or public displays of intoxication. The song choices, while full of sexual undertones were not explicitly or inappropriately sexual. You were behaving well, and you even sang well. No disgrace brought upon the company. No stain on your own reputation. Just…you being a normal teenager. It was almost as if you were a mature young adult who could be trusted to go out in public unsupervised. Nathalie showed me the videos and pictures, and I was proud of you.”

It took Adrien a minute to formulate an answer through his shock. “Really?”

“Yes,” Gabriel insisted, meeting his son’s gaze. “I was proud of how you could go out and have fun but still make responsible choices on behalf of yourself and the company. It reflects well on how Emilie and Nathalie raised you. I was proud that, even though you’ve been somewhat more restricted than your peers throughout your life, you didn’t take advantage of your newfound freedom and go wild as soon as you were able. And while I still am not comfortable with the idea of you going out to bars and such establishments, it’s good to know that I can trust you to go and beave in a manner befitting yourself and your family. I never would have known that if you had been completely honest about your plans.”

“So that’s why you didn’t say anything,” Adrien muttered in understanding.

Gabriel nodded. “I didn’t want to condone your dishonesty by praising you for your actions, but it would have been wrong to punish you for doing something that, as a technical adult, you had the technical right to do.”

“So…the party tonight?” Adrien inquired tentatively.

Gabriel pressed his lips into a thin line. “While you have proven that you can be trusted to comport yourself appropriately in an informal social setting…I still have my reservations about allowing you to attend this event. Is Miss Dupain-Cheng going to be there?”

Adrien winced. “Maybe? Chloé said she’d invited the whole year, so I assume Marinette was invited, but it’s not like I’ve been able to ask her about whether she’s going. I haven’t spoken with her since she called me a week ago, so…” Adrien gave a half-hearted shrug.

Gabriel’s frown deepened. “Well, which friends are you going to be spending the party with? I suspect Miss Bourgeois will be busy with her hostess duties and will not be able to spend the entire evening with you. How about Miss Raincomprix?”

Adrien’s shoulders rose up to meet his ears. “Sabrina doesn’t exactly…like me. She’ll be nice and hang out with me if we’re together with Chloé, but I doubt she’d spend time with me on her own.”

“Is there a reason she doesn’t like you?” Gabriel pried, wondering if there was anything he could do to fix it for his son. “Did you two have a fight?”

Adrien gradually shrank further. “So…Sabrina doesn’t like it when other people are around Chloé. She gets kind of jealous, so the fact that I’ve been friends with Chloé longer bothers her, and now that Chloé and I are spending time alone without Sabrina…”

Gabriel raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Does Miss Raincomprix not understand that it is possible to be friends with more than one person at a time?”

Adrien averted his gaze. “Okay, so…pretend that Sabrina is Chloé’s boyfriend and Chloé is spending all this time and being affectionate with another guy—me. Does that make the situation make more sense?”

Gabriel’s eyes widened. “Does…Is…Is Miss Raincomprix Miss Bourgeois’s…boyfriend?”

Society nowadays disconcerted Gabriel at times. Emilie would have smacked him for being a homophobe, but Gabriel couldn’t help but feel that two women dating each other wasn’t quite right.

Adrien shook his head like a dog shaking off water. “Chloé isn’t interested in Sabrina like that. She likes guys…I think…and Ladybug…and maybe Kagami, if Elise is to be believed…but Chloé doesn’t like Sabrina, and I don’t even know that Sabrina actually has those kinds of feelings for Chloé either, but the situation between Sabrina and me is a similar kind of hostility.”

“I…see.” Gabriel did not, really. “So…is Miss Tsurugi going to be attending?”

Adrien kept averting his gaze. “Uh…Chloé invited her, even though she doesn’t go to our school, but Kagami’s mother said she couldn’t go.”

Gabriel nodded. “Was Miss O’Leary invited? I realize she is not a student at your school either, but I’ve noticed that you, Miss O’Leary, Miss Bourgeois, Miss Tsurugi, and Monsieur Lahiffe have been spending time together often as of late.”

Adrien nodded. “Elise was invited, but she already had plans with her dad’s family visiting from Ireland, so she’s not going to be able to make it.”

Gabriel’s brow scrunched. “Then…whom are you to be spending the evening with? Miss Césaire?”

Adrien grimaced. “She’s…probably going to be with Marinette if she’s there. I mean, I’m guessing Alya will be there because Nino is DJing, and Alya never misses one of his gigs, so if Marinette isn’t at the party I’ll hang out with Alya, but…”

“So…you’ll primarily be spending the party with Monsieur Lahiffe?” Gabriel tried to pin down the answer.

Adrien shrugged. “Nino will be busy working. Chloé is actually paying him to DJ, so he probably won’t have a lot of time to spend with me, but I can hang out near the DJ booth, and we can talk between songs.”

Gabriel opened his mouth to ask a question that had been buzzing in the back of his mind since he had seen photos of his son dancing with Nino Lahiffe a week and a half before…but Gabriel lost his nerve to ask.

“What?” Adrien’s brow creased. “What’s that face for?”

Gabriel opened and closed his mouth twice more before managing to form the words, “What exactly is the nature of your relationship with Monsieur Lahiffe?”

Adrien’s eyebrow arched. “Nino’s my best friend. Why?”

Gabriel’s eye twitched. “Well…he’s always been very protective of you…very vocal about how not a good parent I am…and I know he and Miss Césaire have been dating for some time, but…the videos of you two singing together…and the pictures of you dancing…it just…it looks a little…intimate, to put it delicately.”

“O-Oh.” Adrien blushed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “You think? Um…Well…Nino’s just a friend, so…do friends not…act like that? Nino, Alya, Marinette, Chloé, Elise, and Wayem are all really affectionate, and those are the only close friends I’ve ever had besides Kagami, and I just thought she was different because of her Japanese upbringing, so…”

Gabriel bit his lip, wondering if his son was right. Gabriel hadn’t had many close relationships himself, and he wasn’t exactly familiar with how young people interacted. “Perhaps you’re right,” Gabriel conceded. “Perhaps that is how people of your generation express friendly affection, but to someone of my age, two young men hanging on each other like that is…”

“Is…this a problem?” Adrien inquired, voice shaking with nerves, a cold panic on his face.

Gabriel thought carefully before responding. “Not…necessarily…. Adrien…do you…are you…interested in men?”

Adrien choked, spluttering, “I mean… No?” He winced. “Not…like that. I know there are a bunch of different labels; I’m not sure which one applies to me, but while I do find men attractive from the waist up, I’m not interested in sleeping with guys, so…okay?”

“…Okay.” Gabriel nodded. “Thank you…for talking about that with me.”

“Sure.” Adrien shifted uncomfortably. “You’re welcome.”

“Adrien?” Gabriel called hesitantly.

Adrien cocked his head to the side.

“I would love you anyway,” Gabriel assured. “If you did…if you were… I would still love you,” Gabriel stressed, trying to get his point across even as he tripped over his words. “I just don’t think I could…accept…your boyfriend, if you were to have a boyfriend. The parenting guidebooks say that I cannot forbid you from dating men, but…I would very much like to forbid you from dating men.”

Adrien smiled sadly. “I don’t foresee this being a problem. There’s only one person I’m interested in dating, so…”

Gabriel swallowed hard. “R-Right. Okay…. Good.”

There was an awkward beat before Adrien took it upon himself to steer the conversation back to less treacherous waters. “So…party?”

“Right.” Gabriel cleared his throat. “Adrien, I’m not so sure about this. Maybe if the party were on a stationary vessel or if more of your friend group were going to be present or if Miss O’Leary were there to supervise, but…I’m not sure that it’s a good idea for you to be trapped onboard with no way to escape as Adrien in case something happens that upsets you.”

“Please?” Adrien begged. “I’ll be fine. Plagg will be with me.”

“Kid, I’m always with you,” Plagg scoffed. “Fat lot of good it does most of the time. I’m not so sure about this party either.”

“Come on,” Adrien wheedled. “It’s probably going to be the last chance I have to hang out with all of my schoolmates before we go off our separate ways for university and life and everything. Even if it’s challenging and makes me a little anxious like eating down in the lunchroom, I still want to go.”

Gabriel reached up to run a hand through his hair. “I’m going to regret this,” he sighed.

Adrien brightened. “I can go?”

“You may go,” Gabriel groaned, taking off his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose. “But you call me if there’s any kind of issue at all. I’ll be up half the night working on this project anyway, so don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Dad! You rock!” Adrien cheered, bouncing to his feet.

Gabriel reluctantly stood. “I’m not so sure about that…. You know the rules?”

“No drinking to excess, no making out with anyone in public, always be courteous and polite,” Adrien listed. “behave in a way that reflects well on the company and the Agreste name, always act as if you’re on camera because you just might be…” Adrien cocked an eyebrow at his father. “Am I forgetting anything?”

Gabriel smiled wanly. “I think that will suffice for tonight. Please be safe, and please, please have a good time.”

“I’ll do my best,” Adrien assured, secretly delighting in the fact that his father had just said “please”—a previously unheard of word—three times in the same sentence. “You know, providing Chloé doesn’t get anyone akumatized.”

“She’s gotten better about that in recent years,” Gabriel remarked, walking with Adrien out into the foyer. Lila had been picking up the slack.

“Yeah, but she’s still got a higher body count than almost anyone, and all her usual victims will be in attendance, so…”

“Well, maybe you’ll get lucky and Papillon will stay quiet a little longer,” Gabriel offered.

Adrien hummed softly. “I wonder if he’s on an extended holiday or something…. Is it totally weird that I kind of miss him?” Adrien glanced hesitantly up at his father.

Gabriel winced. “What? Are you bored? There are dozens of much safer things to do than fighting supervillains. Don’t miss Papillon.”

Adrien shrugged, making for the staircase up to his room. “Thanks again, Dad!”

Gabriel watched his son go, praying this party wasn’t a mistake.

[gettin-bi-bi-bi]

(1/2)Follow up question from the anon who didnt like piv sex, how do I tell my future bfs abt this (girls I don’t think would care that much tbh), how do I deal with the response (like “have u tried” and such (I’m like 99,9% sure I’d hate it fam idk what to tell you)) and how do I find people who are sexually compatible with me. My communication skills are lvl -100 and all my relationships basically reach a dead end bc of this. Like what do I say that isn’t rude and aggressive. I don’t think

(2/2) I’ll ever be in a serious relationship bc of my inability to have this conversation and I usually self sabotage before I get to the stage where I have to worry abt it bc I’m 99% that the person won’t understand and I’m don’t wanna be pressured into sex so I just go the “i guess I’m just a bad person” route. (I do this w friendships sometimes too) obviously this is a me problem and a mental health problem but have an idea of what to say usually helps me start conversations

You probably already know all the “you don’t have to do sex stuff that you’re uncomfortable with” shebang so I’m gonna skip that and go straight to your actual concerns.

First of all there are cis men who don’t mind not having piv sex. My cis male partner and I never had piv (for other reasons than yours but still…) but we have sex in many different other ways and it’s okay for the both of us. Yes, a lot of (straight) cis men think piv is the only real type of sex but they are obviously idiots. However, queer cis men are usually much more open to other types of sex, so maybe you will find it easier to talk with queer men about this and figure out a way to have sex that both of you enjoy. Or, if you don’t want to have sex at all then there’s still ways to have relationships that don’t include sex - either you find a cute ace guy or you can find a non-monogamous agreement in which your partner can meet their sexual needs elsewhere. But findign these guys of course means you gotta be able to communicate what you’re looking for.

If you want to avoid running the risk of being pressured to try piv then be open about not wanting that up-front. If you are in the beginning of dating a guy and it’s getting closer to “might actually have sex together”-time then say “I like you and I guess this is when people usually go to bed together so I need you to know that I do not want to have piv sex. however, there’s other stuff I want to do and I hope that’s okay with you.” [or “I don’t want to have sex at all” depending on what’s the case with you]

If it isn’t okay with them then you two are incompatible. That might hurt to realise but it’s better to know that sooner rather than later or you doing something you don’t really want to.

Romantic relationships and sex aren’t a one-size-fits-all type of thing. It’s very individual and learning how to communicate what you need and want or don’t want to do are part of this process of learning how-to relationship. If you struggle with this then at least try to be honest about that on a meta level and say “I have trouble communicating my needs and boundaries”. Maybe all you need is a partner willing to literally ask you “are okay with this? are you okay witht hat?...”

If you have access to therapy then it could be helpful to tackle that issue there. You can also practice by trying to be more direct about your needs and boundaries in non-sexual situations, such as at work/school or with friends and family. If you learn to have agency over yourself there then you might be able to use that in sexual situations as well.

Maddie