#but in 2 doses 12 hours apart instead of one

[stephaniedola]

glad to see that A. i was not alone in thinking of this and B. it is in fact possible to take levonorgestrel based birth control as plan B

[siderealscribblings]

4.15.202X The Apartment of Akechi Goro and Morgana

Being a paid demon slayer for the government was the sort of job most people could only tolerate in small doses. 

Human beings were prey for demons; sheep were not naturally suited to chase wolves for very long which is why S.E.E.S. had a very generous vacation policy. It was almost necessary for the average field agent to take multiple days off each month just to retain their sanity. Narukami himself famously disappeared for the month of June to spend at his family's house in the country every year just to avoid disintegrating from the stress of running S.E.E.S. 

Akechi Goro had been working for eight years and in that time, he had accumulated nearly a year’s worth of vacation that he never used. The more time he had off, the more time he had to realize how little there was to his life outside of his crusade against demonkind. It was better to put his mind to work than to let it chew itself apart and in the early hours of his first mandatory day off, Goro could feel it start to gnaw. 

At 2:30 a.m. he woke up; by 3:13 he realized he wasn't going back to sleep no matter how still he laid or how many horseshit mindfulness practices he tried. At 3:32 Goro gave up trying to sleep and started scrolling through his social media feeds, taking in nothing and enjoying even less than that. Mentions of the Phantom Thieves only aggravated him further until he got out of bed at 5:23 a.m. Internet busybodies were in full tinfoil hat mode, with some claiming the Phantom Thieves orchestrated the attack on Niijima for failing to investigate Madarame. Mishima was no doubt poring over thousands of blog posts looking for the one nugget of gold in an ocean of bullshit. 

Morgana hadn't come home yet, which meant he was likely plotting with the senior heads of the Tokyo branch. So there was no one to judge Goro as he ate cold takeout in front of his fridge completely naked for breakfast. At 6:20 the sun had risen enough to spill on the rows of movies, video games, and books left untouched on his shelf. Logically, he knew he should be having fun in his spare time; every once in a while, he was seized by a surprisingly childish urge to splurge on a new video game system that would go untouched as Goro couldn't bring himself to even turn the thing on. Two new Zelda games were still shrinkwrapped and sitting on top of a forgotten Switch; instead, Goro chose to stare at the ceiling for thirty minutes, tossing a ball in the air and catching it as the sun rose. 

Goro went back to sleep at 8:12 a.m. and had a dream that he and Joker were academic rivals. His teachers didn't find it odd that a fifteen year old with glowing red tattoos was cheating on every test by having Oracle feed him the answers and nothing Goro said or did convinced them otherwise. Goro woke at 10:23 with a refreshed murderous intent and spent an hour cleaning the kitchen he never used, half of which was spent putting a microscopic edge on his knives. Lunch was two melonpan eaten while disassembling and cleaning his backup pistol, meticulously oiling and scrubbing every tiny spring and gear before putting it back together. Part of him still blamed his faulty firearm for failing to fire the night before and wanted to be sure the next time he had Joker’s skull in his crosshairs, it would be to put him down for good. 

By 1:00 Goro was out of things to do, so he went to bed again, glaring at the ceiling while he tried to will his mind to be still. Unfortunately, his mind had a habit of spinning in circles when he should have been asleep, scanning for threats, analyzing his current predicament, and fixating on his latest threat. 

Who knows what they're up to now, Goro thought, glaring at the dancing shadows on his ceiling. 

Read More

Start from the beginning

[ladywithoutababy]

9 weeks 2 days pregnant: heartbeats and the end of shots

Whoops, it's been a few weeks, but things are moving really fast. I went in for my first ultrasound on March 20 and had all the same nerves as last time: trying to hope for the best but prepare for the worst. Everything is so scary in the first trimester when you have no real symptoms (or at least I don't, other than the fatigue) so it's hard to convince yourself there's anything going on in there. It didn't help that they were super busy so I was waiting more than hour to go in for my appointment.

But once I got in there, the doctor popped in the wand thing and we IMMEDIATELY heard a strong little heartbeat. Or at least I thought it was strong – she said the heartbeat was 113bpm and ideally by this time (I guess 6.5 weeks?) she'd want 120, so I had to make another appointment to come in the following week. But at least she reassured me that she wasn't worried at all, which was nice because I felt like that gave us permission to finally celebrate a tiny bit. With IVF, once you hear a heartbeat, there's like a 90% chance that you'll have a baby at the end. So it finally felt real. She took pictures and the baby looked like a little tiny ghost. But even though it was so tiny, it's always wild seeing it suddenly go from an empty uterus to one with anything in it.

I went back in a week later, we checked again, and the heartbeat was 163, so she was very happy. She even gave me a hug! It's still so weird – we have such a different relationship than the last time around, when I was so tense and upset all the time. It's really nice getting to experience some of these milestones with a different attitude. I got some new pictures, and this time it was a very visible tiny ghost – it went from being almost invisible to taking up like half of the space! I asked the doctor what the embryo (baby?) was attached to, and she said the yolk sac (which becomes the placenta). This reminded me a little too much of my backyard chickens and I was not able to eat eggs for a few days.

Anyway, as of this point I officially graduated from IVF! So now the next step is to go see my normal ob/gyn (although they seem extremely unconcerned and I won't be able to go in until May, so we're back in the dead zone between information. But whatever).

We had a bit of drama with the wind-down schedule for the shots. We found out after my first ultrasound that the very last week of shots (the "wind down" week, when you start lowering your dose) overlapped with an international week-long trip for work that I couldn't get out of. So we scrambled and booked my husband flights and arranged child care and animal care for the week. But when I went back in for the second one, I mentioned this to the doctor and she said it was totally fine to just switch to crinone suppositories for the final week instead of doing the shots. So we pivoted again and my husband didn't have to come with me. Very nice for him. I made him say out loud that he appreciates me dealing with the suppositories. Not looking forward to the ~~~leakage~~~ but at least it's only for a week. I'm here now on my work trip and got to experience inserting a suppository in the airplane bathroom. It was less interesting of an event than I was hoping for, but at least I can say I did it. (I don't know how or why I would ever say this to anyone.)

When I was trying to figure out the switch from shots to suppositories, and the 6 hour time difference, I was getting really worked up about gradually moving to the new time, making sure it stayed roughly 12 hours apart, etc. When I talked to my doctor about it, she did not care at all (it seems like the wind down week is really mostly just a formality) as long as I don't go 24 hours without a dose. So we're just winging it. If I get a UTI from excessive crinone use I'm gonna be mad though.

But! Switching to the suppositories meant that Friday was our last shot ever. Recently they've been hurting a lot ("you're like a pin cushion", my husband keeps helpfully saying while he stabs me) but this one went in like butter. Right when I was commenting that it didn't hurt at all, he pulled it out, screamed, and said "Ahhh don't look!" (I know, weird reaction.) Blood was just spurting out of me like in a horror movie. All over both of us, all over the floor. It finally just kind of stopped on its own and I suppose like so many other things we'll never know why it decided to do this this time. But I found it pretty poetic for our last hurrah.

[garc-i-a]

Why JATP Is Taking a While to Get Officially Renewed

Thought I would put my thoughts into words on the renewal situation. We know that the show was released on Netflix on September 10, 2020. As of today, it has been 242 days (10 May 2021). Julie and the Phantoms was released under Netflix Family, marking it as a children’s show on the streaming service. It was released in the middle of the second wave of the coronavirus (in the US) that has swept the world over. The show was created by Kenny Ortega, legendary choreographer and director.

To start off, we have to acknowledge that we ARE in a pandemic. Due to that, things have been touch and go in so many industries. That includes the TV/Film industry as well. The US and Canada, the two countries involved in making the show, have to follow the rules and laws related to COVID regardless of what people in the industry want. With that, we have to pay attention to what is going on with the pandemic to know how to go about filming. 

As of right now, Canada still has closed borders from the US to nonessential travel. To get into Canada as a foreigner you have to be going for a specific reason and follow all the Covid related travel rules. To read more about this, you can go to canada.ca and type in for traveling during the pandemic. Not to mention that for a lot of areas in Canada, they are still essentially in lockdown because of the now rising numbers in the country. Charlie’s home province of New Brunswick is still pretty restricted. 

Regarding vaccinations, although the United States has been slowly getting people vaccinated, Canada has had issues with getting vaccinations and don’t nearly have as many vaccinated. It is only just a few days ago that New Brunswick started administering vaccinations in the last few days. The vaccinations are only for people who are 50+ who fall into specific medical condition guidelines. For British Columbia, where the show is filmed, vaccines started getting administered the third week of April. It is believed there is a chance of getting all* adults vaccinated by mid June. My source for this information is from a native New Brunswicker and a CTV News article.

For the cast, getting vaccinated is paramount. Owen is already vaccinated. Madison’s dad is also vaccinated so it is likely she is as well or part way there. Now for people who are NOT vaccinated yet, most vaccines are administered in two doses. The doses are done about three weeks apart (I am partially vaccinated and my first dose was already done and second is next week). This knowledge is important as people need to be aware of the timing of these things. The amount of time between vaccines and for everyone in the cast and crew is essential for everything to go smoothly with filming.

One of the big things that I have seen a lot is the outrage at other shows on Netflix being renewed before Julie and the Phantoms. There is a two fold answer to this. To start off, we have to remember that because of this pandemic, things take longer to process to be extra diligent and that more money is be used to cover for reconstructions and accommodations due to Covid. Knowing these two things, let’s delve into the renewals of other shows.

Some of the other shows that have been renewed are Fate: The Winx Saga, Bridgerton, Ginny and Georgia, and Emily in Paris. The big difference between these shows and Julie and the Phantoms is the fact they are not in the Netflix Family category. They are considered content for adults or young adults. Netflix has different rules on their shows that are put out on the regular platform versus the family section. Netflix Family rarely posts when a show is renewed so far from its premiere date for the next season. So in that respect, Julie and the Phantoms wouldn’t be given a huge announcement for the next season’s renewal if it follows the pattern of Netflix Family’s marketing.

Tying into this the matter of where the rest of the shows are filmed and the backing behind them in regards to production. The Winx show and Bridgerton are filmed in the UK, Ginny and Georgia is filmed in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, and Emily in Paris is filmed on location in France. The reason that this matters is because these places have different rules for working during this pandemic, the vaccinations levels, and the threat of getting sick from Covid. These shows are also connected to larger properties or influential individuals*. Vancouver is a popular city to film in, of course, but it has been dealing with an uptick in cases as well as in a different province than Ginny and Georgia, and as such has their own rules. We cannot take into the likes of Riverdale or other shows that are filming right now in Vancouver. Lots of these shows were renewed and set to film already when the pandemic hit. They do not factor into things.

The last part of this is the production costs for making the show. As mentioned before, Vancouver is a popular city to film in. Due to the pandemic, it costs more to film because the need to have extra precautions, regular Covid testing, and etc. We know that there were shows that were initially renewed by Netflix but then canceled after the fact. The reason for this is that Netflix likely realized the cost to produce the shows would be too much and not in the best interest of the cast, crew, and any companies involved in the middle of such a huge reaching pandemic.

Compared to other shows in the Netflix Family section, Julie and the Phantoms has a high production level. I did some research on the Netflix originals in the section and the shows on there are either very low budget or have a backing from a franchise/company (ex. Baby Boss, Fast and Furious, Jurassic Park). Julie and the Phantoms does not have that. It is not connected to an established franchise or a large company. It is simply made by the likes of Kenny Ortega who does not skimp on anything in his productions. Kenny has stated that he is not willing to let the grandness of the show suffer because of the pandemic. The show has many crowd scenes and dancing sequences that require a lot of people. The show won’t be what it is without this. Based on this, we know that Netflix wants to be absolutely sure they can go forth with filming before announcing a renewal.

And there you guys go. All the information that I looked into and checked for this piece. I hope this helps many people understand what is going on why it is taking longer for the show to get renewed. It is not that Netflix doesn’t want to renew it. It is a matter of HOW and WHEN. If that makes sense. If you have any questions about what I wrote, you can leave a comment or DM me.

all*- Some individuals may not wish to be vaccinated

influential individuals*- There are people connected to some of the shows that have a standing within the media and the finances or awards to warrant being a part of the show or it being made at all.

Amendment

I was informed by my source in New Brunswick that vaccines have been administered since January but the qualification for who is eligible for the vaccines can change from week to week.

Amendment 2

Reuters has reported that children aged 12-15 are able to start getting the vaccine today (13 May 2021). So that means that Jadah and Sonny (15 and 13, respectively) will be fully vaccinated by the middle of June.

Amendment 3

A few days ago a local upstate New York newspaper wrote about Canada starting the process of opening up borders again. The process is in the beginning stages so there is no announced date(s) on the border reopening but it is in the works.

Amendment 4

A show called Firefly Lane has been renewed for a season 2. This is important because Firefly Lane is filmed in the same area of British Columbia as Julie and the Phantoms. British Columbia is getting better in regards to vaccinations and so this proves good news of a season 2 announcement for Julie and the Phantoms.

Amendment 5

It was reported on 21 or 22 June 2021 that Canada will relax quarantine rules for vaccinated Canadian citizens, permanent residents, and foreign nationals for essential work. This new system will go into effect 5 June 2021. If you are fully vaccinated and pass rules set by the government, you will NOT have to abide by the hotel quarantine steps when entering the country. That means that the JATP cast and crew can get to filming right away instead of quarantining beforehand. To read more about this: https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.lonelyplanet.com/amp/articles/canada-border-reopening

Amendment 6

On Charlie’s live yesterday (28 June 2021), Madison said that she got the second dose of the vaccine earlier in the day. In 14 days, she will be good to go on going out and such. Hopefully Jadah and Sonny have gotten at least their first dose. Gets us closer to being able to have the cast and crew together for the show.

Amendment 7

The National Law Review published an article on 2 July 2021 saying that fully vaccinated individuals will be able to travel between Canada and the US on 21 July or possibly sooner. Prime Minister Justin Trudeau says he wants 75% of Canadians to be fully vaccinated before allowing the border to be opened. With current numbers, it is believed this will be achieved in a few weeks time.

Amendment 8

The New York Times just reported that fully vaccinated Americans could be allowed into Canada by mid August and that people from other countries could be allowed to enter by September.

Amendment 9

It was just reported about two hours ago that Canada will allow vaccinated Americans in on 9 August. That is exactly 3 weeks from now on a Monday. Now all we have to focus on is protocols for safety while in Vancouver while filming.

[songofsaraneth]

an incomplete list of the Bullshit ive gone through this year (2021 only), for personal edification:

I am in grad school trying to do research as well as TA a lab class during a global pandemic

My car is broken into in late February outside of my apartment. $1700+ of my backpacking/camping gear and personal items were stolen from it. Ironically they did not find the $20 cash I had. 

Car battery begins mysterious dying if left overnight and have to call for rescue from AAA 4 separate times over the course of March. I suspect it is related to being broken into but can’t prove it without a mechanic’s diagnostics.

First mechanic I bring my car to does nothing for the entire MONTH they have it, except break my air conditioning of all things. I live in a desert. It is now 90º every day. At one point they call me to say they can’t get the back doors to open. I walk 2 miles back to them from campus and demonstrate how the automatic doors work on a 2005 minivan. I begin to have regrets about my mechanic choice but the sunk fallacy cost keeps me there for several weeks.

Mid march I also wake up one day to severe jaw pain/a weird “loose” feeling, like my mouth is slanting sideways. It is midterms and I do not have time for this, so I take a lot of ibuprofen and eat soup for a week. After 3 days I shove pillows and blankets around my face one night to keep my jaw aligned and when I wake up the next morning it is severely tight instead of loose, and I have to carefully stretch it open whenever I leave my mouth closed for more than an hour. I guess I just have TMJ now.

At this point I am walking everywhere until bike supplies arrive to fix my flat tire since the bike store is too far away to walk to; including walking back and forth to campus since I can only bring 2-4 out of 8 students into the lab spaces at a time and so effectively have to run each weekly lab 2-4 times per week; as well as going back and forth for greenhouse experiment monitoring/helping undergrads on our NASA contest project

Early April I go to the dentist for a crown on one of my back molars, which I must pay for out of pocket because my new dental insurance purchased when I moved last September has a 1-year waiting period and so will not cover it ($1200). Stretching my jaw open so far for the procedure reignites my new TMJ back to high pain levels.

While still waiting on car in mid-April I have a severe averse reaction to the second dose of the Covid19 vaccine, resulting in painful ulceration of all the soft tissues in my body (mouth, stomach, genitals). It is a very bad time for 3 days and I book an urgent care appointment for the first time ever.

Urgent Care nurse-practitioner does not believe me when I describe what’s happening, and misdiagnoses me with herpes.

I am still biking everywhere but now I’m extra mad and in pain about it so take car back from mechanic so I can get groceries etc. I make an appointment with the dealership but it will be a week until they can take it. In the meanwhile I have to drive it every 8 hours so it won’t die which means getting up at 2am to drive it for 20 minutes in the middle of the night so it will still turn on in the morning. 

I have a terrible reaction to the numbing cream given to me for the painful open sores over my body, because of a lifelong mint sensitivity, resulting in an even greater amount of pain

The dealership can fix my car over the following week but its $1800 and now insurance isn’t sure they want to cover it after all

Herpes test comes back negative and nurse apologizes profusely and recommends a non-mint OTC numbing cream alternative that works (yay) and a numbing spray that does not work because it turned out to use an alcohol based propellant which should not be combined with open wounds esp on the genitals (ouch ouch ouch). I try to tell the nurse why I was right about my diagnosis and she was wrong but she still believes it was a latent virus of some other variety and and not an immune response alone, despite the published case studies I have brought to back me up. I decide I have bigger hills I need to die on right now and stop arguing. Sores persist into May but eventually do go down and numbing cream keeps me moderately functioning.

Car is fixed and I can drive again but it takes 2 hours of crying on the phone to my insurance company for them to agree to cover the cost of repair

I make a primary care appointment for the first time in years so I can have a doctor in this state if something like this happens to me again, in June I do intake/bloodwork/set up appointments to check out some other issues ive been having

Grad school finals happen which i wont get into but Yeah. Finals stress triggers another outbreak of canker sores, but mostly clustered in my mouth and only 2 on my vulva rather than 8-12. I eat only soup for another week. 

I get a referral to the local mental health clinic and call about setting up an appointment for an ADHD evaluation. They tell me to download and send in some paperwork and they will call when they have available appointments

I am supposed to be doing all my labwork over the summer but the committee member I need escapes my clutches and we don’t manage to set up a meeting to plan it out/for him to explain the protocols until late June

Bloodwork shows I am critically low in vitamin b12 and low in D, which may explain some of why I am so tired all the time

Ultrasound shows a 1.8cm mass in the adnexa near my left ovary. There are several options for what it can be (folicular cyst, other kind of cyst, tumor, ectopic pregnancy i nearly laugh at my Dr and reassure her the last one is not possible if nothing else). It may go away on its own or it may not. Follow up scan in 2 months

I remember I was supposed to email forms to the mental health clinic and finally send those in mid July. It seems cruel to make me be the one to remember this considering I am calling about a formal ADHD diagnosis.

I also finally pin everyone relating to my labwork down and have a follow up meeting + make a list of what we need to order, but the staff who place orders are on vacation and when they get back several reagents are backordered

I have my follow-up ultrasound. The tech takes lots of photos which indicates the mass is still present, but I won’t know any details until my next PCP appointment when they send over the analysis to her in mid-August

Beginning of August the reagents I need for the first steps of the process arrive exactly 1 day before I leave town for a wedding and the lab manager is about to leave town for the entire next week

After the wedding, severe thunderstorms and tornados trap me in Chicago for 4 extra days. I spend a lot of time at the airport or on my way between the airport and my parents house. A facebook friend gets video of the funnel clouds which at least gives me something to sadly email my advisor and committee members when I have to join our planning meeting from my gate at O’Hare

I lose my drivers license at the security checkpoint on my last trip through the airport and don’t realize until I am boarding the plane because of course that is happening to me now

On the shuttle from El Paso back to Las Cruces after this ordeal the driver stops and picks up a box labeled HUMAN BLOOD and puts it in the trunk and i am too tired to care anymore

I stay up all night making the world’s most pitiful r graphs for my meeting the next morning and everyone takes pity on me and does not call out how useless they are

I spend the weekend trying to motivate myself to actually go into the lab and start my procedures, and fail to leave my apartment. This reminds me it has now been a month (Aug 15th) since I sent in my paperwork and the mental health clinic has still not called me back about up an appointment

I get overwhelmed with Everything and make this list

So that’s where I’m at at the moment. And this doesn’t even include anything from 2020 thats just been continuous like, y’know, a global pandemic and having a bad breakup of a 4 year relationship and moving to a new city where I know no one for grad school etc. I feel like I’m falling apart/unable to do all the shit I need to right now but you know what? Actually its been a really bad time and maybe falling apart a little is justified ;_; 

[seriouslyhooked]

Feels Like This (Part 13)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! I am so excited to be back with this story after the month I spent away, and I find it so wild that in that past month so much happened with royals in the actual world. I wouldn’t say it inspired this chapter at all, but it was cathartic to write a story where the Prince and Princess get a much healthier, more healing reception. I know how many of you love this fic, and it definitely has a special place in my heart as well. It’s been so important to me that I do the ending of this story justice, and so it took a bit of time to get my thoughts organized. This is one of the final chapters, and I only anticipate one more actual story installment and then maybe, someday far off in the future, an epilogue or two. That being said, this is a long-awaited milestone for CS and I have attempted to infuse all of my usual cuteness and romance. I hope that you all enjoy, I would love to hear what you think, and thank you all so much for reading!

Gazing out upon the overlook as the sun rose over the tree line in the Montenarran morning, Killian was comforted once more by the vastness of the world and the beauty that danced before him. The light shone with a color and vibrancy he’d come to know and love, but this morning the air hummed with languid layers of anticipation. Maybe it was Killian’s excitement and nerves, but he didn’t think so. No, if anything the world seemed to shimmer today, a sign from above that the timing was right and that he was ready to take this next big step.

The next time I visit this place, I’ll have Emma by my side, he thought to himself, soaking in the comfort of such a plan. 

This was on his list of places to share with his Swan, but he reasoned that he had all the time in the world for such gifts. Today, though, he was planning to make that assumption a reality. For finally, after nearly three days of being parted from his love, he was planning to propose, in a way befitting a woman of Emma’s caliber.

Instinctively, Killian’s hand moved to his pocket, drawing out a small black box which held a ring inside. The ring was beautiful and ornate, an overt and ostentatious display of love, but one with inherent meaning. This was the ring his grandfather had given his Gran, a ring forged for the purpose of real and lasting love. It was not exchanged at their wedding, but instead in a private ceremony the two of them shared some weeks later. Their wedding had been arranged, but still they’d found real love. This ring was a gift, however, given at the turning point where Killian’s grandfather knew that his love for his new Queen was more than mere arrangement – it was true and totally transformative.

“Your brother, as reigning monarch, has full claim to your grandfather and my wedding bands, and he will make good use of them with his Elsa, I am utterly assured,” Gran had claimed some weeks back when she stole Killian for a private moment. On that night, she was serious and sincere, most of her deeply playful nature tucked aside for a brief window of time. She glanced at her the matrimonial ring she still wore, years after the death of her dearly departed husband before looking back to Killian with conviction and calm. “The love between them grows each day, and is befitting of what me and your grandfather shared. But this ring I’m giving you, Killy… this ring is something else altogether. This is magic made metal. This is perfectly genuine affection forged into precious gems.”

“It is gorgeous, Gran,” Killian agreed when she presented the ring to him. “But I can’t take something like this from you. Not when it means so much.”

“That’s why you must have it, Killy. If your Grandfather were here, he would say the same. This ring bound us in life, but now we are bound through so much more.”

For the first time in years, likely since the death of his grandfather himself, Killian watched as tears trickled down his Gran’s face. It instantly pierced his heart, for this was a woman who always showed strength. Even when he was on deployment and gone for years on end, his Gran persevered. She may grow misty eyed or get choked up, but tears were a whole different story. Only the memory of her husband could prompt them, and Killian thought to himself not for the first time that she had been so strong for so long, going on without him.

“Our love is forever, living, thriving, singing its song for now and for always. I miss him, every day, every moment, I wish that he was here, but someday we will have each other again. And in the meantime, this ring deserves another union. It was made to be passed through generations. I will confess that I wondered if anyone should ever be worthy of it, if love like ours would find its way here again. But I needn’t have doubted. You and Emma are made for each other, and it would be my honor for Emma to wear this.”

Killian agreed whole heartedly with his Grandmother’s explanation, and he knew no more beautiful stone could be found the world over. This ring bore a remarkable yellow diamond, encircled with smaller stones of the same rare hue. The exact shade sparkled in the sunlight, but almost seemed dipped in the golden glow of a summer’s afternoon. It was pristine and poetic, warm and well beyond the pale, reminding Killian of the highlights in Emma’s hair and the lilt of her laughter. Her joy was precious, more precious than any stone, but as he gazed upon the rock, it felt quintessentially designed for his Swan. It was happy and bright, bold and beautiful, and he knew, despite its flair and size, that Emma would love it.

The only thing left to do is ask her.

The thought breathed new life into Killian, even more so than the Montenarran morning, and he walked back through the forest paths towards the palace once more, energized and ready for the day ahead. He had everything planned and had been working on this for some time. There were many moving pieces, but he’d squared them all away. In the end he would see to it that this was perfect, for that was exactly what his Swan deserved.

Arriving at the palace just after the sunrise, Killian moved with purpose and precision. He had only a little bit of time, and much to accomplish.

“The last of the parcels have been delivered, Your Grace,” one attendant announced as Killian walked through the palace doors. “The bulk of them are here, as you see, though some are in the green house for obvious reasons.”

“Excellent, Jacque. Thank you.”

“I beg your pardon, Sir, it’s just… are you certain you don’t need help arranging things? It’s a significant amount of work here. The staff is happy to assist.”

“I appreciate that offer, Jacque, but I’ve got things well in hand. I’ve been planning this for some time.”

A thoughtful smile appeared at the older man’s face, one that broke the traditional polite protocol and spoke to how long he had known Killian and the royal family. “Of course, Sir. Well, in that case, best of luck.”

Killian took the well wishes to heart, knowing he had a massive task before him. Perhaps he could have given himself more time to bring all of these pieces together, but to him, it already felt like too much time had been wasted. He was more than ready for this next step with Emma, and after three days spent apart, not seeing each other in person, or sharing much more than a few texts and facetimes, he was particularly desirous to see this through. He had been strategizing on how to get this right for quite a while, and by now he knew each assignment down to the letter.

“I assume that your dismissal of Jacques offer goes for us as well?”

Killian glanced up, finding his mother on the stairwell. From here she was stately and elegant, a poised dowager Queen with refinement and grace, but as she descended, she became more herself, and by the time she was in front of Killian, taking his hand in hers, she was no more and no less than a wonderful mother. His greatest support for many years, and someone who he knew would give anything she could to make this moment special.

“It does, at least for this. But with the children arriving in a few hours’ time -,”

“Not to worry on that front,” his mother said cheerily, her own happiness at the thought of all the Institute’s residents coming to the palace for a special premiere outing. “Your Grandmother and I have all in hand, and Liam and Elsa are set to help us. It’ll be a day to remember.”

“Good,” Killian said, looking around and finding his Gran already in full form, instructing the staff as to the desires she had for the outdoor space. Through the glass of the palace’s wall of windows, her words were muddled, but the humor was clear as day. This woman, frail and aged from outward appearance, was a firecracker, ruling over the days designs with an iron fist. “Surprising that Liam is giving Gran such a wide berth.”

“Well how could he not? He’s yet to come down for the day. Hard to give orders from a distance.”

Killian let out a whistle, and laughed as his mother swatted his arm and ‘tutted’ his boyish actions. Knowing when enough was enough, he left unsaid the clear reason that his brother would choose to stay abed so late in the morning. Killian would stake his life on the fact that a certain guest was here within the palace, and that she likely made a visit of the overnight variety.

“What are the chances that Gran doesn’t know?” Killian asked and his mother shook her head.

“Zero.”

“And the likelihood that she will say something?”

“That’s still to be determined.” Killian was shocked at his mother’s genuine opinion. He, for one, thought it undoubtable that Gran would make mention of this moment, gleefully commenting on the need for royal heirs or some such outlandish claim. “Eleanor is direct and prone to speaking her mind, but she is also strategic. If the calculated risk of such a comment is too high, she will deny herself. She would never do anything to jeopardize your brother’s prospects.”

“You really think a smart comment from an old woman is enough to keep them apart?” Killian asked, thinking back on the few weeks that Liam and Elsa had shared since finding each other again. They had been as close to inseparable as the schedule of a King would allow. It was clear that they were both entirely invested, so much so that a royal announcement would be made in the coming days announcing their relationship.

“Not for a second.”

“So, if you know that, and I know that… surely Gran must know that.”

At that exact moment a maid was walking back into the house, opening the glass doors. From the outside they could hear his grandmother calling out to Liam and to Elsa, who had been discovered somewhere in the backyard. They no doubt were trying to be more discrete, but Gran seemed to have no interest in allowing them that privacy.

“Oh Lord, it’s time,” Meera said with a mix of worry and also amusement. Her eyes were alight with the humor of the moment, but also the very real awkwardness that may soon transpire. “I best get out there and spare them from what I can.”

Killian nodded, but wasn’t ready for the impact of his mother’s arms around him squeezing tight. It was not in any way part of the royal protocol, but his family never paid much mind to that. Still, this was a big hug, one that was obviously filled with tremendous meaning.

“I’m so proud of you, my darling. You’ll give her everything she deserves, and the two of you will be happy. So wonderfully, beautifully happy.”

“Thanks, Mum. Love you,” he whispered, accepting her soft kiss on his cheek and her shared words of love in kind before she dashed off to help his elder brother. A Queen should never move so quickly, but then again, Gran could do quite a bit of damage in the seconds it would take to get from here to there. For his part, Killian only chuckled to himself before heading to the side of the palace towards the gardens for the day.

The next few hours were defined by attention to detail and purposeful precision. Before meeting Emma, Killian could safely say he never imagined the lengths and planning required for a proper proposal. The idea was so intangible, so unnecessary in his estimations, that he never dwelled on even the possibility. It seemed unlikely that his heart would ever be touched in that way. He assumed he’d go through life a bachelor, or worse yet, that he’d cave to eventual pressure and say yes to something arranged and designed without feeling or passion. Luckily for him he had escaped such a fate, and instead had been steered through the grace of all things good towards a woman who was far and away the most remarkable he’d ever met.

Emma was rare and extraordinary. He had known it from their first meeting, and he continued to hold onto this truth every day they were together. There was never a moment when he didn’t realize his good fortune, or when he took her presence in his life for granted. Emma had revived him. She anchored him into the goodness of the world, and she showed him what could be. She expanded his horizons, even brought with her a son, another key part of a growing family, and by her side, Killian felt like he was capable of anything.

He only hoped that the elements he’d gathered today would translate as he imagined they could. This was a memory in the making that could only be shared once. Killian wanted to be sure that it was what Emma wanted and deserved. Luckily, he’d had help and more than a little bit of intel, mostly provided by Henry and from a few other insiders who knew Emma best of all.

“Are all systems a go, Captain?”

As if he’d conjured Henry with the grateful thought of all the boy had done for him, he turned now to find Emma’s son in the garden. Killian watched as the lad took in their surroundings, his eyes growing wide, and his whispered ‘this is so cool’ a welcome sign that Killian’s efforts had not been for nothing. He stood from where he’d been bent down, tidying up the last of his efforts, and when he gazed upon it himself, he had to say he was happy with the outcome.

“Aye, Lieutenant. All the necessary components are accounted for.”

“Good. She’s going to lose it. In a good way though,” Henry said with a smile which burned bright.

“Is everyone arrived then?” Killian asked and Henry shook his head.

“Soon, but not just yet. Anna and I have been here for a while now. Gran needed help with the game set up, but I asked if I could see you first.”

The look of wonder and happiness that had clung to Henry since arriving colored to something a bit more pensive. The shift gave Killian some pause for the first time all day. “Everything all right, lad?”

“Everything’s great, I just – well I was wondering – I mean if Mom says yes – or rather when she says yes, because she’ll totally say yes, it’s just that, well I – I was wondering…”

“No need to be worried, Henry,” Killian said, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Whatever you have to ask me, I’m here to help. You have my word I will make it right.”

“I know. And you’ll love Mom forever, right?”

“Aye, lad. Forever and then some.”

“And you love me too,” Killian’s heart clenched as he automatically nodded.

“Yes, Henry. I love you both, undoubtedly.”

“And we’re going to be a family.”

Killian didn’t know what to say. Down to his bones he knew that they would be. He was confident in this union between him and Emma. They had made promises already, declarations of love. He would give anything to be her husband, and he knew that someday he would be, but to say it aloud to her son when Emma herself hadn’t had a chance to even be asked was something else entirely.  In the end, he decided to just go with his gut.

“In my heart, we already are.” Henry beamed up at him, the worry of the moment melting away. Still, Killian never imagined what he’d say next.

“Well then I was hoping that maybe, when you and Mom are married, maybe I could call you Dad?”

Killian was overwhelmed with the request. It was something he had wished for, but didn’t want to press. He knew Henry had no memories of his biological father, but he never wanted to assume. It was a massive move for a young man to ask such a question, but Killian’s answer to the query was instant and heartfelt.

“I would be honored, lad.”

“Cool,” Henry said happily, brimming with the excitement he’d had since Killian first told him about his plan to propose to Emma.

Henry moved forward, hugging Killian with the affection of an earnest hearted ten-year-old, and Killian savored it, knowing he would always see Henry as his son. He may not be his blood, but he lay claim to a large piece of Killian’s heart. He silently swore to always do right by Henry. To protect him and to teach him what he could. But mostly he would support him, and show love to Henry and his mother all the days of his life. Before Killian could speak to more of that, the sound of busses pulling up, and happy children streaming onto palace grounds wafted through the air. The time had come. This was the moment.

“You know the plan, son?” Killian asked, the word slipping off his tongue so easily, and bringing real joy to Henry’s eyes.

“Aye, aye, Captain. I’ll have Mom to you in five minutes. You can time me.”

Killian might have laughed at the fervor and excitement Henry shared, but unfortunately, five minutes waiting in a moment like this felt like a lifetime away. The only thing that got him through were the last-minute adjustments, and the journey that was needed from where he was, to where they’d start their memorable afternoon. Finally, the moment came where Killian was waiting at the start of the hedgerow, even further from the festivities and he could hear the woman he loved, unaware of his being here.

“Henry, seriously, what’s going on? The party’s only just starting. We have time for a tour later. We can go with the others.”

“Trust me Mom, this can’t wait.”

“What is it Henwy?” a tiny voice Killian would know anywhere asked. Cecelia was with them, another sign from above that his plans were moving the way he wanted.

“Something magical,” Henry said and Killian could hear the sharp trill of an excited little girl.

“Like fairies?”

“Just wait, you’ll see.”

“Something magical, huh?”  Emma parroted, but at that moment they all stepped into view.

Three days may be but a blip in time to some, but to Killian it had felt like an eternity. The peace he now experienced at seeing his Swan again was profound, and somehow she was even more stunning than when he’d left her. The day’s light shone in her hair and in her smile. She was gorgeous and relaxed, dressed in a delicate pink sun dress designed to tease and torment. Her radiance outshone every flower in this garden, and in the moments before she saw him, he soaked in the sight of her. God she was beautiful, too beautiful to properly behold. His heart skipped and his muscles tightened, and then her eyes landed on him and he was whole.  The world was righted once more, and all because Emma saw him and felt the same pull he felt emanating from his chest. The surprise in her eyes was evident, followed immediately by relief, and joy, and love, and all of it was too sweet a call to resist. He moved towards her and the children, sending up one last prayer in this critical moment.

Please let her be mine. I swear I’ll deserve her. Whatever it takes.  For I am hers, body and soul, and I always will be.

………………

God he’s gorgeous, Emma thought instinctively upon finding Killian at the far end of the garden hedge. That thought was followed closely by, Wait, what is he doing here?

“Killy!” Cecelia cried out happily, letting go of Emma and Henry’s hands and sprinting towards him. Emma watched as Killian crouched down, accepting the hug from the little girl who effortlessly stole their hearts. He closed his eyes momentarily, soaking in the moment, and then he pulled back and pushed some of her wayward curls from Cecelia’s eyes, smiling at her with genuine affection.

“Good morning, little love. How are you finding the palace?” Emma’s heart clenched in her chest in the best way. He was just so sweet with her. He always had been.

“It’s so so good,” Cecelia replied, bringing a laugh out of all of them.

At the little girl’s enthusiastic endorsement, Killian thanked Cecelia and then stood once more, looking at Emma with those captivating blue eyes and that charming smile that always took her breath away. She was still trying to fathom his presence here. They had spent the last few days apart, days she found so much more difficult to manage than she expected, but he wasn’t set to return for a few more days. Liam had sent him on state business. She didn’t press for details, assuming it was confidential, but now, she was curious as to this wonderful turn of events. Before she could ask though, he walked over to her, taking her into his arms and kissing her surely. She leaned into this embrace, loathed to let him go, but he seemed to remember they were in the presence of little eyes. It was a fleeting kiss, but still invigorating all the same.

“I don’t understand. You’re supposed to be away the rest of the week.”

“I hope you’ll forgive my brother for that white lie,” Killian said, his hand coming up to scratch at his ear in that subtle show of bashfulness she’d witnessed a time or two. “If you’ll recall I never actually confirmed an itinerary, having sworn never to lie to you again.”

“So, you weren’t on a… huh, let’s see, how did Liam put it? A ‘mission for the future of the nation’ then?” 

“Not exactly. But then again, in some ways, that’s exactly where I was. Do you trust me, love?”

Emma nodded, and watched as his smile grew warmer. She knew that it meant to him to have her trust, but in her eyes, he had earned it ten times over. Killian was a good man – the best man she knew – and he made her feel safe. Of course she trusted him. She had never trusted anyone this much before.

“In that case, I’ve some things to show you. Henry, you’ll be sure to hold down the fort in the meantime?”

Emma looked over to her son, and only now realized that this was all planned somehow. Her boy looked pleased as punch, and even sent a salute Killian’s way. “Yes sir. And Cecelia will help, wont’ you Ceci?” The little girl nodded, joyously, thrilled at the prospect of helping. “We’ll see you both soon.”

Killian nodded, leading Emma in the direction of the garden. The further they moved into the hedgerow, the quieter it became, until the only songs around them were those of birds and breeze. Emma was amazed at all of this, but she was also still wrapped up in his return. It felt so good to be back with her hand in his, the glow of his presence enveloping her. She’d never missed someone like she had the past few days, never ached this way to be reunited with someone. It was a testament to all she felt for him and how much she’d come to love him. Quietly she stopped walking, pulling Killian’s attention. With a quick glance behind them, she saw no one had followed. They were totally alone and so she made her move. Pulling him down for another kiss, she said a proper hello, and shivered in delight at his reaction.

His hands were on her, seemingly everywhere, holding her close as they tasted each other. She felt his soft dark hair between her fingers, where she ran them through by the nape of his neck. She arched in closer, feeling the friction of their bodies together, and sighing in pleasure when they pulled apart. It couldn’t go further than that, but Emma felt more secure having shown him even in a small way how happy she was to see him.

“Hell of a welcome home, love,” he growled out, words low and throaty from his own swirling emotion. “If leaving wasn’t torture in itself, I’d consider more trips just for this.”

“No need to leave for these,” she whispered to him, leaning in for another kiss but then nipping him gently instead and stepping back out of his grasp. She smiled at his evident frustration, and laughed when he groaned in defeat. He knew he was had, but from the way he pulled her back into his arms, running his hand along the small of her back and looking at her adoringly, he didn’t seem to mind.

“You are a marvel, love. Have I mentioned that yet?”

“Maybe once or twice,” she teased, looking back to where they’d been walking and giving him silent permission to lead to their destination once more. “It’s beautiful out here.”

Beautiful was an understatement. In truth, Emma had never seen such intricate floral designs or such an array of colors and flower species. She had to imagine it was more than a palace garden. This had to be one of the most beautiful botanical spaces in all of Europe.

“Much of that is my mother’s doing. Her passion project, so to speak. She brought us out here when we were boys. Showed us bits and bobs. But this has always been hallowed grounds. Special, and perhaps, as Henry hinted, a little magical as well.”

Emma was poised to reply, but at that moment they turned a corner and things changed. They were still in a garden, but this time – oh lord it was difficult to describe. Magnificent was the first word that came to mind, and ethereal came soon after. For where there were blossoms and buds before, now there even more, hanging from pergolas above and winding through ivy vines on every hedge. Some were clearly naturally placed, but Emma noticed pieces woven into this area that she’d seen before, half a world away.

“Windchimes,” she murmured, looking at the gorgeous displays that reminded her of home.

There was a storefront, totally discrete from the street view and far off of the beaten path, deep in the heart of Chinatown, that she and Henry had found when he was younger. It was filled with artisan chimes and motifs and mobiles made from natural items and glass and more. The owners were amazing and known in crafting circles around the globe. The first day Emma and Henry visited taking refuge from a sudden winter chill, the couple who owned the store had taken the time to walk her son through their work. They’d then spent hours in the studio, and though Emma had very little by way of money for a purchase, they’d showed her and Henry nothing but the utmost kindness. She’d always found the pieces beautiful, comprised of shells and flecks of crystal or silver and gold, swirled into constellations that evoked a night sky or sense of wonder. 

Over the years she and Henry returned to the studio many times, and even bought a few pieces when she could save enough to treat herself to something precious. There was so much beauty crafted in each piece. Emma always found herself wanting more, and she loved their trips back over and over again. The style  of this artwork was one of a kind. Emma had never seen other pieces like these, but here, in this patch of the garden, there had to be a hundred intricate, delicate, interrelated art pieces dancing in the wind.

“How is this possible?”

“Henry may have mentioned something. Do you like it?”

“It’s gorgeous. God, the time it must have taken to put this all together…”

“Was time well spent, believe me, love.” Emma looked to him and she could have sworn from the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice that he was the one who had done this. But that was crazy. How could he have possibly had time for all this?

“But how did it all even get here?”

“I brought it.”

“You brought it?” Emma asked, stunned, her fingertips grazing the smoothed lines of one art piece dripping in sea glass. “You were in New York.”

“Aye.”

“But why?”

“Patience, love. There’s more to see.”

Emma had no idea how there could possibly be more, but she tucked her arm through Killian’s and walked with him to the next section of gardens. Here there was a sudden burst of purples and whites, and a scent she’d been missing without even realizing it. Lilacs, but none of them in season. Oh God, look at all of them.

“Killian,” she whispered, looking at what must have been thousands of bouquets of her favorite flower. It was unbelievable, but it was real, and she moved forward, seeing them all set up and displayed prominently in the midst of a garden with white roses. It was gorgeous and surreal. And now she was utterly dazed and more than a little confused.

“You and Henry are well known at the Brooklyn gardens love, as I’m sure you are well aware. I had it on good authority from a woman named Ella that lilacs are your particular favorite.”

“These can’t all be from there,” Emma said and Killian shook his head.

“No, these are admittedly sourced from a few specialty purveyors across the continent. But this,” he pulled out a polaroid of a small lilac tree that was recently planted. Looking at the surroundings, Emma realized that was outside Killian’s home here in Montenarro. “This is directly from the gardens. The same family and strain, all the way from New York.”

Emma was too shocked to speak, and felt the tears welling in her eyes. He had done so much for her, and she knew it was for one reason. He wanted to bring part of her home, part of a place that meant so much to Henry and her, here to his home. It was so thoughtful she felt tongue tied. What could she say? This was all so much.

Unbelievably there was even more, and over the next few minutes he took her through three more break away gardens, each filled with other staples of her one-time home. Food and culture and memories and more. This man had managed to find all of the best parts of her time in New York and he had brought them here. Some of them were things completely out of the realm of possibility.

“I can’t believe you found this,” Emma said, holding onto a years-old piece of construction paper that had been forgotten to time.

This picture was one of so many projects that her son had made in life, but Emma cherished the memories that went with it. Another example of the city’s serendipity, this painting chronicled a day of adventure for Emma and Henry. They’d wandered all through the city, and ended up in Queens for a special summer program for kids. She was always looking for magic moments for Henry, especially ones designed for a budgeting single Mom, and this one had delivered. There were story times and games, crafts and activities, and Henry had been thrilled. He made this picture of the two of them, and though it looked nothing like Emma, it had captured her heart. It also caught the eye of the librarians working that day and they’d selected it to put on the wall in the Children’s wing. Henry was oh so proud, his four-year-old heart filled with joy at getting to hang his art somewhere aside from their refrigerator door. It meant something to Emma, another example of her doing her best by her boy, and giving him all that she’d never had.

“There was a picture of you and Henry and this particular masterpiece in the Saturday Times.”

“Okay now how could you possibly know that?”

“Your neighbor, Mrs. Hubbard. She was very forthcoming, and she’d saved the article. Has it framed and everything.”

“You spoke to Mrs. H?” Emma asked completely bewildered, and Killian nodded. “And the library had it all this time?”

“Aye. In the archives. Nothing a few strategically planned favors couldn’t procure.”

“I don’t deserve this,” Emma said, letting the tears finally fall. This was all too much, but she was immediately comforted by the feel of Killian’s strong arms. His hand came to cup her cheek, his thumb wiping some of the tears as he shook his head, his eyes full of earnest feeling and emotion.

“That’s where you’re wrong, love. You deserve every good thing the world over. I know it’s presumptuous for a man like me to ask for such a treasure, but I swear to you I’ll spend my life giving everything I can.”

“I already have everything. I have you, and Henry,” Emma said. “This is beautiful, but it’s nothing to you.”

Killian hummed out a sigh of contentment, but where Emma expected a kiss, she watched instead as he pulled back, reaching for something in his pocket. “I was hoping you’d feel this way. Makes this next part a bit less nerve wracking.”

In a smooth gesture, he pulled out a small black box and lowered to the ground. Watching Killian drop down to one knee here in the gardens, Emma felt totally adrift from all cares of the world. She was stunned and yet deeply aware that this had all been a long time coming. There was no doubt in her heart that she loved Killian, and she held no fear over taking this next step. This man had shown her for months that he genuinely cared for her and her son. He would move mountains for them, if only for a possibility of their happiness. He was selfless and loyal and true, and he made her brave, emboldening her to believe that the risk was worth it. Love was worth it. Still, it was shocking, to be adored so deeply, and to know that someone truly felt the world began and ended with her.

“Emma, I realize that this is perhaps soon by some standards, but believe me when I say that I have been aching to ask you this question since the moment we met.”  

More tears formed in her eyes, thinking back on that day. Her world had truly shifted in the span of one morning. There was a time before Killian, before romantic love that ever made her hopeful, and then there was more. It all started at the center, but it built well beyond those four walls. Knowing what she did now, she had to call their encounter what it had been – love at first sight. Maybe she hadn’t admitted it then, and surely she hadn’t said it aloud, but that is what transpired. She took one look at this man, this extraordinary, incredible man, and she was hooked, plain and simple.

“You amazed me then, that first day at the Institute. I didn’t realize anyone like you could truly be real, or that I was capable of forming an attachment with such strength. I had seen too much, I reasoned, knew the darkness of the world in ways that may leave me lacking for the rest of my days. I thought such chances at something halfway near normal were beyond me, but those first sparks between us proved me wrong. I was totally ensnared, caught in a web you couldn’t help for making, and still, that immediate response can’t compare to all I feel now. Knowing you – loving you – I am more certain each and every day that you hold my heart in your hand. I am yours, Emma. I have been yours, and I will remain yours all the days of my life.”

There was absolutely no chance at stopping from crying now, but the sensation was one of happiness. She was actually living a fairytale. Her, the once lost girl who never had a nickel to her name, or a friend to keep her going. She had survived the cruelest affairs of the heart. She had been so terribly and tragically alone, but she persisted, and she learned, through the grace of her son, and the courage of her convictions, to live. Now with Killian she was starting anew, building up the small life she’d shared with Henry into something much bigger. To say she was exited at the prospect was an understatement.

“Emma Swan, will you -,”

“I want to adopt Cecelia!” Emma said abruptly, blurting out a seemingly unrelated fact in the middle of what had been the most beautiful proposal. She was mortified, but only for a moment. Because the smile on Killian’s face calmed the storm inside her.

“Ah, right. You see, I had anticipated that, though in the interest of full disclosure I envisioned this part of the conversation after your reply to the proposal. Regardless, I offer you this, love.”

Emma watched as he juggled the ring and instinctively she took it, holding the box and sparing another glance at the absolutely beautiful band. Her fingers itched to put it on now, but she knew it would be so much better to let Killian do the honors. She then watched in amazement as he pulled out a series of papers from inside his jacket. He opened the file containing them all and showed her an application for adoption. The child in question was Cecelia, and the forms listed both Emma and Killian as petitioning guardians. Now she was completely overwhelmed. He knew every single part of her. Every hope. Every dream. He was perfect.

“Family is so much more than blood, Swan, as we both know, and I think we’ve known for sometimes that Cecelia will always be our princess.”

“Yes,” Emma whispered. Yes to everything, yes to all of it.

“I’ve also spoken to Henry, not intentionally per se, wanting to speak with you first, but it would mean the world to adopt him as well. I don’t know how you’d feel about that, but I-,”

“Yes,” she said again, this time with even more conviction.

“Yes?” he asked with a hopeful grin and she nodded. “Well in that case. May I, love?”

She handed him the papers which he put down beside them with care. Emma watched as he took the ring box back from her other hand. He settled down on bended knee again, preparing himself for another attempt at asking her to marry him. It took everything in her to bite her tongue and let him actually get the request out.

“Emma Swan, love of my life, light of my spirit, and queen of my heart, will you please do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

“Yes.”

Everything from there went quickly as he slipped the ring on her finger, tossing the box without care to the group. Killian was up at full height in mere moments, pulling her in for a scorching kiss and Emma was complete. It may not have been a totally according to plan proposal, but Emma believed what they had was even better, because it was real and true and filled with so much love. She could think of no better way to start a beautiful forever, and when they pulled back, resting their foreheads against each other and soaking in the moment, Emma let out a sigh of sheer relief. This was what they meant when they said happily ever after, and it was so very worth the wait.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy,” Emma murmured aloud.

“Neither have I,” an emotional voice said – only it wasn’t Killian. The voice continued. “Truly beautiful.”

“Gran,” Killian muttered shaking his head. Emma bit her lip and covered her mouth. They had absolutely just been caught out here, but when they both turned to see their unexpected audience, consisting of Killian’s family, Elsa and Anna, and Henry and Cecelia, a different person outside of all the rest, was revealed to be the culprit.

“You take that back, Killian, for you know better than that,” Gran said, standing beside a dressed up and dazzling looking Mrs. Hubbard. Mr. Hubbard was there too, his hand on Henry’s shoulder and his leg being held onto by a very friendly Cecelia. Emma never expected to see her dear, sweet neighbors. Their appearance here in Montenarro left her floored.

“My new friends are a treat, believe me,” Gran continued, walking forward, and seemingly giving everyone else the silent permission to do the same. “But their spying skills need work. I would never speak through such a moment, nor rustle these hedges with quite so much gusto. Not to worry though, they’ll learn.”

Everyone descended in that moment to wish them all well, but the most important reactions came from Henry and from Cecelia. The happiness of both of these kids – their kids – gave Emma tremendous joy and satisfaction. She was also thrilled to share this with their blended family, and with the friends who had become such strong bonds in her new life. After much congratulations, everyone returned to the party, and an announcement was made. If Emma believed the reaction to be enthusiastic from her loved ones, it was even bolder from all of the children at the center. Indeed, the happiness and infectious sense of hope made for the best party any of them had ever been to, and created an afternoon like none she’d ever experienced.

Hours later, Emma was still reeling from the high, and loving the fact that she and Killian had stayed together all day. He’d never let her go after her saying yes, always beside her, supporting her, adoring her, and loving her endlessly. She was so happy with him, but as the day drew to a close, her spirits dampened slightly. In his usual form, Killian caught on immediately.

“What’s the matter, love?” he asked, sure that no one else was listening, even though they were still amidst the party.

“Nothing,” Emma said automatically, though that was only half true. “This is one of the best days of my life. It’s just… the waiting…”

“Aye, I’ve considered that too. But I think I’ve arrived at a workable solution.” Emma looked at him curiously. “I will submit for a special license from the crown. The King and I are on decent terms you see.”

“Decent, huh?” Emma teased, looking over at Liam and finding him swaying with Elsa on a makeshift dance floor. There wasn’t even any music playing, but to this happy couple, and to the children dancing nearby, that didn’t matter in the slightest.

“He’s been in better spirits of late, as you might imagine.”

“Seems to be going around.”

“Mmm,” Killian hummed out, running his hand along her cheek and looking at her with sincerity and bliss. “We can have everything arranged in a week. It’ll be quite the undertaking, but the staff is up to the challenge.”

“A week?” Emma said, not believing it. Surely it must take longer than that, but she loved the idea. In truth, she’d marry him right now if she could. “Can we really do that?”

“Just say the word, Emma.”

“Yes,” she said nodding. “It’s crazy. Actually it’s totally insane, but yes, please, yes.”

“As you wish,” he replied kissing her again under the party lights and lighting her aflame once more. “In the meantime, I’ve no wish to be apart. We should be together, love, as long as that’s what you want.”

“I do.”

“Everything’s ready. I’ve been working for weeks on it. The rooms for Henry, for Cecelia, all of it. It’s merely a matter of moving your things in, all of which can be done tonight.”

“You’re serious?” Emma asked and he nodded.

“A magistrate’s already granted temporary custody for Cecelia. You can take her home now while the process continues. Please, love, say you’ll all come home to me.”

Emma looked over to Henry and to Cecelia, who were dancing together on the floor. Emma watched as her son already took so well to his new sister, and as if she’d conjured his attention, Henry glanced her way. He waved, a sign that Emma returned. Drawing attention to them set Cecelia in motion, and soon the little girl was dragging Henry across the party. Soon enough they were back together, the four of them a new but undoubtedly permanent unit. Cecelia jumped into Killian’s arms, and Henry came to Emma’s side looking up with his knowing expression.

“What’s up, Mom?” he asked and Emma smiled, unable to resist pulling him and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

“How would you feel about moving to Killian’s house -,”

“Our house,” Killian stressed and Emma chuckled.

“Sorry, our house, tonight?”

“That would be awesome!” Henry said excitedly. “Can we do that?”

“Aye.”

“And me too?” Cecelia asked hopefully.

“Yes, honey, you too,” Emma said, brushing a stray curl from Cecelia’s face. The kids made their feelings known. They were in, totally and completely. “Well I guess we have our answer then.”

“Aye, love. The best of answers, all around.”

And so, later that night, when the festivities of the day had ended, and the children all departed, Emma and Killian, Henry and Cecelia all headed home together, enjoying their first night in a place that would always be theirs. And though Emma knew they were in for a crazy week of planning and party design, and wedding wildness, she was truly joyful. For this was a life beyond her wildest dreams, and she knew, deep down to her core, that it was going to be breathtaking.

Post-Note: So… what did you think? Personally, I found it SO cathartic to write this scene. It’s been such a long time coming and I have pictured this outcome for Emma and for Killian even before writing the first word of this story. Almost a year ago to the day this story came to me, and my hope is to write out the final chapter by the one year anniversary in early May. Hopefully it won’t take quite so long, but please know that it has been a joy to write this and share with all of you. I hope this chapter and this fic have brought some brightness to your world and some magic to your moment. This has been an insane time, but I’ve been grateful to share it with all of you. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed, and I’d love to hear what your hopes for the end of this story are. Until next time, wishing you all well and healthy and safe! xE.

[katblu42]

I have tossed up whether or not to post this, but I've decided to just go ahead and see how it lands. It is very personal to me, and I'm posting it because today is 2 years since I had to say goodbye.

This is basically a rambling vent that came out after the most traumatic period of my life so far. I needed to write it all down, chronicle it and get it out of my head, and the original destination for it was (my other) fandom.

It is more detailed than the story I posted earlier in the week, but it requires all the same warnings for some pretty unpleasant stuff. Please take heed before continuing.

Warnings for Death Illness Hospital Cancer (Medical) Drugs Medical Procedures CPR

Deep breath Late in 2018 my husband, S, began complaining of a sore throat. He's the kind of male who won't go to the doctor unless he is literally dying. He finally went to his GP in January and was told there was an issue that needed more investigating. He was supposed to go back to the GP in 2 weeks, but we were on holidays then, so he ended up not going back until mid March. GP sent him to a specialist, but the earliest appointment was early April. Consultation, camera down the throat and $400 later the specialist says Cancer - two of them, one in the mouth, one in the throat. Next appointment is the biopsy. By now S has lost almost 20kg because he struggles to eat (and because apparently Cancer can do that to a person anyway). Now there are appointments at the local hospital with the Radiation Therapy Dr, the specialist in Chemotherapy and a dental team (who wanted to take all his back teeth out at first, but changed their minds when they saw where the mouth cancer was, and how hard it was for S to open his mouth wide). During all this I'm still juggling work commitments as we are building up to one of our busiest periods, which covers pretty much the entire month of May. I'm sharing appointment chauffeuring duties with his Dad. It is decided that due to S's weight loss and difficulty eating it is advisable to put a feeding tube (that they call a peg) in his stomach. This is basically a precaution in case he can no longer swallow anything at some point during early treatment. Surgery after Chemotherapy begins will be difficult to recover from. As it turns out the peg is never actually used for feeding S. The first cycle of Chemotherapy begins on Wednesday 8th May. The plan was to do at least 2, probably 3 cycles of Chemo and then begin combination Radiotherapy/Chemo. At first things seem to be going okay. Three medications are administered as part of the Chemo - 2 are done on the Wednesday at the Cancer Clinic, and the third he has to carry around with him for 5 days, returning on Sunday to have the rig removed once that one is done. The peg starts leaking during these 5 days. He is given advice over the phone not to worry about the leak - but I wonder about that advice. I can't be with S all day - work is busy, and he's a grown up who can ask for help if he needs it. Only he's the kind of male who will not make a fuss if he's feeling "not okay". By Tuesday (14th May) S is not feeling much like "eating" - which consists of swallowing soft stuff like milkshakes, jelly (jello), custard and the like - and I basically have to force him to go for a walk around the block with me, just to keep him from lying on the couch all day. (Tuesday is my regular day off). He seems okay, in the "so-so" sense rather than the "fine" sense. He's not particularly nauseous, just a bit Blah. Wednesday - while I'm at work - S stays home all day, which is unusual for him. He is a social butterfly who can't resist going across the road to the Bowling Club just to sit with his mates for a bit. The peg is still leaking, and he feels tired and a bit yuck. By now I have asked him a few times if I should be calling the hospital for advice and he says no - doesn't want to make a fuss. I don't stress too much because he has an appointment at the hospital on Thursday - it's with a Social Worker, but I know that he will be at the hospital, where they will ask him how he's feeling, and if they think he needs something they will take care of him. Thursday comes and he doesn't want to get out of bed. I go to work, telling him to make sure he gets to his appointment, even if he doesn't feel like going. His Dad calls me at lunch time and tells me S didn't go to the appointment. He got in the car, they got down the road, then S told his Dad to just take him home. His Dad tells me S doesn't look good, he thinks S should be in hospital and I wonder why he didn't take S straight there if he was that worried. I get home just after 5pm and S is in bed feeling miserable. I don't get much of a good look at him - the room is dark - but he talks

to me. He's not feeling nauseous, not throwing up, but also not eating or moving much. Over the next few hours he's up and down to the toilet at least once an hour. I ask if he has diarrhoea, because if he does I should take him to hospital. He says no, "not much is coming out". It's after 10pm, Thursday 16th May, when he calls out to me from the bathroom. Something about the way he calls out makes me get straight up to see what's wrong - normally I yell back "what's wrong?" or "just a minute", but this time I think I had an instinct that said something was wrong. I find him sitting on the toilet, slumped forward with his head between his knees. He can talk to me at this point, but I have to help him sit up - he really can't move - and his skin is quite yellow (which alarms me). By the time I have him sitting upright he's not talking to me any more, his eyes are only half open and not blinking and he can't squeeze my hand. I run and get my phone and call an ambulance. Now his breathing is laboured, and as the emergency call taker is asking me to "say now every time he takes a breath" his gasps are getting further apart. I have to get him clumsily onto the floor of our tiny, narrow bathroom and give him chest compressions. 2 ambulances are on their way. Minutes later I have 4 ambulance crew members working on my husband in our tiny bathroom, and I have no idea what is going on. By midnight S is in emergency at the local hospital, and I'm in a private waiting room, alone. I call my Mum - I've already called his Dad on my way to the hospital in my car (they didn't take me in the ambulance). It's about 12:30 when a doctor comes to talk to me. Infection. Kidneys and liver struggling. Blood pressure through the floor. No white blood cells. This is by no means good. By the time I get to see him in Emergency I have my Mum and his Dad with me. S is basically in an induced coma and about to be moved up to ICU. It's about 1:30am. Once he's moved to ICU we wait in another waiting room for more news. A surgical consultant comes and sees us - I think it's nearly 3am - she says surgery is not an option. The infection is in his digestive system. There is no clear area to surgically remove, and his system is so weak it would not take well to surgery anyway. S's Dad leaves soon after that. This is hard for him. It was only 3 years ago that he was here in this very ward with his wife. This is where she passed away after an infection she just could not fight. He tells me "don't let them put him down" - I guess because he had to make that decision for his wife/S's Mum. I think it's after 6:30am when I decide to go to the intercom and buzz the nurses station to find out what's going on. They let us in to see him. All they can tell us is that they are throwing every kind of medical support they can at him in the hope they can help him fight off the infection - blood products, meds to raise the blood pressure, antibiotics. He's been ventilated through a tube in his mouth since the ambulance. They have to run a heating vent to raise his body temperature. They let me into the room, but I see no point in holding his hand or anything - he is unconscious, he won't know I'm there. We go home. I had about 3 hours sleep. By the time I could crawl into bed it was about 8am. By 11am people are starting to text me asking what's going on, checking if I'm okay. I had managed to text my boss about needing to call an ambulance while I was in the emergency waiting room. He's now replied to say I don't need to be at work today, but in the back of my mind is the fact that I have a show to work on, starting on Sunday - we are so busy that there will be no one else who can replace me on this show. (And we had a Federal Election on Saturday as well, so I was going to have to fit voting in around visiting S). At some point on this day a doctor calls me to get permission to administer a drug to S. This drug is not approved for use in Australia, but it is approved in the US. As a result they will have to ship it in from interstate, because there is not much

stock in the country, and I have to sign my permission for them to use it. It is a reversal drug for the 5 day chemo medication. It works best if administered soon after the chemo treatment - we are already past the ideal timeframe, but it is our best shot at helping S. S is unconscious and fighting for the next couple of days, and I'm half dreading that call that says things have taken a turn for the worse, come now! Instead, I see him for a short period each day, but he doesn't know I'm there. And I keep doing the work I have to do - at least this show is close to home for me, and close to the hospital. He is being supported by the blood pressure medication (Noradrenaline) which they are slowly able to reduce in dose, his temperature is stabilising, and the chemo reversal drug has had some positive effect. His white cell count is coming up - probably with the help of the blood products he's been given. By Tuesday 21st May S is awake and aware, and they have been able to remove the ventilator tube. The Physio is concerned about how weak he is - movement in his arms and legs is limited. He is breathing on his own, but it's hard work because his muscles are weak. His lips and mouth have been bleeding a bit around where the tube was. Still, we are seeing slow, small improvements and hoping for the best. On Friday they have to re-insert the breathing tube - he is too weak to maintain his breathing without assistance. This is a set-back, and comes with a warning that the breathing tube can't stay in his mouth/throat for too long, because it can cause all kinds of complications, especially in his compromised state. They tell me that without marked improvement soon they may have to perform a tracheotomy and insert the ventilator there. By this stage they have moved from nasogastric feeding to Parenteral nutrition (intravenously). The peg is still leaking. I'm now getting into a rhythm visiting S when I can for as long as I can around my work hours, and answering enquiries about his health and well wishes from family and friends on both my phone and his. I no longer have rehearsals every night, and the weekend's performances go pretty well. I know he's still critical, but he's stable and despite the set back S seems to be on a path of slight improvement again. The next set-back comes in the form of a flare up of the infection. The gut is still very inflamed - particularly the bowel. More blood products, more antibiotics, Noradrenaline dosage increased again. There is a mention that he probably has a slow internal bleed somewhere. Clotting is a problem - the bleeding in his lips and mouth is evidence of this too. Before I go to my Friday show I have to sign the permission for them to perform the tracheotomy - they've decided it needs to be done, and an emergency surgical team will do it but it could be a day or two before the operation actually goes ahead. Through this entire week S has been awake and aware, communicating with me as best he can around the breathing tube and the bleeding lips, which are scabby and sore. He is still very much alive mentally, still able to laugh at our corny jokes and request the music be turned up! Being in ICU he's not allowed flowers of gifts or anything, but they did allow me to take in a little blue tooth speaker so he could have the radio on all day. I see him as early as visiting hours allow on Saturday 1st June - his 42nd birthday. I have 2 shows on this day, and won't be able to see him again until Sunday. I leave the hospital soon after his Dad and brother arrive for a visit, around 11:30. Around 12:30, while I'm running sound checks for the matinee show, I get a phone call asking me for permission to do the tracheotomy. At first this confuses me - they have permission already. Apparently they are now doing it in ICU, not in the emergency theatre or wherever. He was more drowsy on the Sunday, after the tracheotomy, but still essentially in the same condition - stable. I cried off sick for work on Monday and spent a bit more time with him - I knew I had to be at work on

Tuesday for a morning staff meeting. The hospital social worker called me before I went to visit S, wanting to arrange a "family meeting" for this week some time. At first we settled on Friday morning, but later they asked me if we could arrange a time earlier in the week. After re-arranging my work schedule we agreed on 3pm Tuesday, even though S's Dad would not be able to be there anymore. Then I arrived for my Monday visit with S. We had the radio on - S likes to have music playing, even when he's falling asleep - and the announcers were talking about the State of Origin (a Rugby League series of 3 matches between rival state teams, New South Wales and Queensland). I told him I'd make sure we put the radio on the right station on Wednesday night so he could listen. Suddenly the most important thing in the world for him was finding a way to be able watch the game! I told him I'd find a way. Tuesday comes and I get through my staff meeting and a few other things on my now half day before running back to the hospital for this family meeting. It turns out this is just me, S, his ICU team, his oncology team and the social working re-capping what S has been through so far, and then scaring me (and more so S) by saying out loud the words "Palliative care". Essentially they are telling us we are out of further options. He is being given everything possible to assist recovery - the blood pressure meds are now at a low dose, but they still have to support his blood pressure, he is still on a ventilator to assist his breathing, the infection is still not improving, but it has not got worse, they have run out of different antibiotics to throw at the infection, it still seems the bleed is present, the scabs on his lips are still apt to bleed more than they should if they are disturbed. If his organs start to fail there will be nothing they can do - surgery will more than likely not be an option, and one failure will lead to another until his heart, then brain will go and that will be it. So, if we start to see organ failure palliative care becomes the only option. This is the point at which I am in disbelief. He can't be that bad. He is still totally alive mentally. How can we be discussing "making him comfortable until he dies"? And S is even more disbelieving and scared than me at those words. Yes S has looked better, yes he has spent over 2 and a half weeks in ICU, yes he has a lot more hard fighting to do if he's ever going to beat this, but his brain is fine, he is completely aware of where he is and what's going on around him - just a bit inclined to tire quickly. I stay with him longer than I intend to that night because he starts to complain of stomach pain. It gets worse. Really bad. They give him morphine. He says it doesn't help. His breaths start hitching, like something is stabbing him or something. He finally gives me the description "like hiccoughs, but sore". I can see how swollen his stomach is - fluid retention. And he is also complaining that he wants to lie on his side. We have to wait ages for the right number of people to be available to turn him on his side, to a more comfortable position. But his stomach is still giving him intense pain and whatever spasms are causing the breath hitches and grimaces. I have to leave him like that - in pain, but with the nurse on duty doing whatever he can to ease the discomfort, administering Morphine whenever possible - visiting hours are over and I'm asked to leave. On my way to work on Wednesday morning (5th June) I get a call from the head doctor in S's ICU team. He wants to know what time I can be there today - S has had major abdominal pain since last night (I know, I was there!), and they are investigating the cause, but it looks like the kidneys are failing. He tells me he will update me via text when he knows more, I tell him I will get there as soon as I can after work. I get no texts all day. I get to the hospital around 4:45pm - armed with the all important iPad mini for him to watch the State of Origin game on (yes, that is still a priority for S! God

love him!!). I'm told S has been taken for a scan and I need to come back in about an hour. So, when I return and he's back from the scan, I get the iPad hooked in to the Wifi and open the app he needs. Then I have to have the conference with the doctor. His kidneys have failed. Fluid is building up in his stomach. They want my permission to put a drain directly in his belly to ease the pressure. I give it. I have to wait outside while they get this done. There is a brief discussion about surgery - but that would literally be futile. Again we have the conversation about palliative care. This is the beginning of the end. His body is shutting down. S can't fathom this. He says the words that still break my heart, pointing to his head to indicate his mind he mouths "I'm still alive". He has so much to say, but we can't understand him through the scabs on his lips and his inability to make any real sounds. We try to get him to write things down, but his hands are really too weak. The doctor has asked if he wants to have the pain medication increased so he can slip away peacefully. The sentence he writes is "I just want to see how I go" - he wants so badly to keep fighting. He doesn't want to die. Once the doctor is sure he is comfortable for now he leaves us to watch the game - no S has not forgotten the game! He does not administer the pain medication, but he gives the authorisation for its use once S requests it. And although I had not planned to stay and watch the game (which starts around the time visiting hours end), I do. They let me stay. He nods off a bit during the second half, but I know how much seeing it means to him, so I rouse him for the good bits, and make sure he sees the end - a good result for him, a come-from-behind win for his team. I say my goodnight and leave S to get some sleep. I have told my boss how dire things are, and he has told me I have leave starting now for as long as I need. I get a call around 9:30 on Thursday morning asking me what time I will be getting to the hospital. Apparently S has been asking for me. I had a couple of things to do before I could get there, so I arrive just after 11:30am. S is not as awake and aware as he was last night. They have started giving him the pain medication (Fentanyl) the doctor was talking about, and it has affected S's ability to focus, and therefore communicate. He has apparently been asking what's going on - last night he knew the story, now he's unclear. I wish they had held off on administering the drug. I would have liked to speak to my clear headed husband today. His kidneys have failed, the liver is failing. We are out of options. His Dad and brother are in and out today - we are kind of rotating our breaks until early afternoon. A Palliative Care consultant, and the social worker and the nurse looking after S want to have a meeting with me, and it takes me longer than it should to realise that this meeting is for me to give the final word on the beginning of the end. They are focusing on making sure I am okay with what's about to happen. Making sure I know that I have the final say, and once I give the go ahead they will stop all meds that aren't making him comfortable - the Fentanyl dose will increase, but the feeding, the antibiotics and finally the Noradrenaline will be stopped. It will then be a matter of minutes or hours before he is gone. I know they are trying to be helpful, but having them ask if I'm okay, having them tell me how strong I have been for him and how much of an advocate for him I have been is only making my heart break more. That afternoon, his brother, sister-in-law and their 4 kids, my brother and sister-in-law and 2 of their kids all come in to say their farewells. The Fentanyl dose has already been increased, so S knows they are there, but he is so drowsy it's hard for him to open his eyes. His sister-in-law wants to stay with me. She doesn't seem to understand I need to be alone with S for this. But, at last she gives me space. I'm the one who has to give the green light. It's really hard to do, but I know we

are out of options. As soon as they stop the blood pressure medication (Noradrenaline), S opens his eyes and looks at me. He is as focused as I have seen him all day, his grip on my hand is desperately strong, and I explain to him one final time what is happening, tell him I love him, tell him I'm sorry things turned out this way, sorry for all the things we had planned that we won't get to do together, and tell him it's time to stop fighting and just let go. I try to tell him not to worry about anything or anyone, that it's okay to go. I hope he understands. It must be about 40 minutes before he is unconscious. They stop the ventilator. I turn off the radio - he can't hear it anymore, and he and I have different taste in music! I know he can't feel it anymore, but I won't let go of his hand until he's gone. He holds on for over an hour without the ventilator. Then there are no more breaths. I know he's gone. His hand is already much cooler than it was an hour or so ago. I am a widow. It has happened so fast. It feels strange, but I don't think the full weight has hit me yet. I am bursting into tears at random moments. I am thinking of stupid things like "what am I going to do with all these Fruit Loops - he eats those, not me!", instead of dwelling on the hard things like having a funeral to arrange, and dealing with all the people who keep wanting to do things for me, or stay with me.

That was two years ago now. In excess of 300 people came to his funeral service - a testament to how many friends he made, how many lives he brightened just that little bit with his generous spirit and ever-present smile. Of course, I still miss him. I still have my teary moments. I still struggle with guilt. But I remember his smile, his laugh, the way he would sing along to the music and make up his own words (often to make the song about us), his spontaneous dancing and all the love!

[philosophicalparadox]

Dark Headcannons for the Demon Bois, part 2.a : Physiological Adaptations and Defense Mechanisms (physical)

I continue this ideology with more horror HC's (kind of) detailing some of the physiology and physical defenses of our boys - HOWEVER there is quite a bit of science invested in this particular post, so there's a little explaining to do first.

Note: I have removed Iblis from the list for the next few rounds because we really dont know anything about her, and I've also removed Egyn because I have zero idea what kind of adaptations he has since no one's ever seen his body. Azazel is floating in kind of the same boat. We seen his clones, but not him, and we have only really seen two of his kin - from that alone its hard to tell. We haven't even seen Beelzebub except in Gehenna, and for all we know they are stuck there. Im basing all this off hypothetical and mythological sources as well as my knowledge of animal and human anatomy.

Onward!

But first! (Yep, scientific Exposition Time Baby! I promise it won't be long) Something that strikes me odd is that all demons seem to be stronger physically than their non possessed counterparts, and so for the sake of not repeating myself where unessessary, we will assume this is due to increased muscular density, as a default which is the same thing that allows much smaller primates to be much stronger than ourselves.

However, be aware that there are MANY factors that influence physical strength alone - efficiency of respiration, bodily waste management (aka, kidney and liver function) and efficiency of metabolic processes (digestive system, pancreas, and again liver). I'll touch on all these things in their own right, but just to let you know, everything is interconnected.

Onward!

Samael

Is, in everyday scenarios, about 7x stronger than the average human. In times of high adrenaline that can shoot up to 10, due to possessing a unique respiratory system, detailed below.

Samael has a physique designed to be an ambush predator, with a body that puts nothing to waste, but he is also built for bursts of speed and agility, both skills vital for his hunting strategy type, detailed in part one, to be effective. Standing out in a crowd may lull prey into a false sense of security, but it also draws a lot of attention from competitors, as well as parasitic predators like Chuchi and Coltars.

Samael is a demon often depicted with avian wings, and for his body to put out the strength it does and be able to at least glide requires an avian-modeled respiratory system. In other words he breathes with lungs, but has additional air sacs in his chest and abdomen to draw as much oxygen from the air as possible. For a demon optimized for bursts of speed and high agility, being able to metabolize large amounts of oxygen very quickly is vital.

More vital still though is having the kidneys and liver to be able to handle it. I suspect he would have a lobed liver akin to a rabbit, and kidneys much like a cat. Technically speaking, if he eats right, he never actually has to drink any water. His kidneys are that efficient.

Now onto the fun one: bones. High density muscles put out huge forces on the bones they are attached to. There are two ways to fix that: make the bone harder and denser, or make the bone softer and flexible with cartilage. Samael does the former. The most efficient way to have denser bones without adding weight is to make them hollow, at the sacrifice of not having much bone marrow. This works out perfectly though, since to metabolize high rates of oxygen you need specialized red blood cells with lots and lots of hemoglobin, and hollow bones allow for the production of just enough of these cells.

Now that the basics are out of the way, Samael has some other unique adaptations, including a ratcheted tendon system in his forearms, like those found in raptors. This gives him a virtually unbreakable, iron-strong grip from which escape is virtually impossible. Combine that with talon-like claws and long fingers that can really dig in, and you're screwed from the word "go".

Making that escape even more impossible is his highly flexible joints, which make twisting out of his grasp before he has a chance to bite damn near unheard of. Remember, it only takes one bite to kill. If he catches you, you're dead already.

As far as defensive abilities go, Samael hasn't got any besides evasion. So much of his body is devoted to being a specialist that there isnt any room for special physical defenses - in fact his hollow bones, while very good at handling internal stresses, are no less brittle than a birds when it comes to some external forces. A sledgehammer to the side of his thigh (impact) would absolutely shatter his femur bone, though he can land on his feet from a great height (compression) and barely bruise.

Lucifer

Is maybe 5x stronger than the average human, on a really good day. He has a bit of muscle, but he is a magic user, not a berserker. On his bad days he can dip below a 1.

Physically he isn't too different from a human mostly, other than having an ultra efficient heart and lungs that are 20% larger to compensate for his increased muscle density.

Except that he has very strange cells. To all appearance his body is mostly human, but one look under the microscope would tell you instantly that something is odd about this duck, because his cells have tiny crystals in them. These crystals are of unknown composition, but they are thought to assist with fluorescence, or the production of the stuff mentioned below.

Also odd about his cells is that they're filled with an almost cellulose like substance instead of normal cytoplasm. Its a bit denser and is THE most heat resistant organic substance on earth. It also makes his cells completely immune to all forms of radiation - this boy could literally survive a nuclear explosion as long as he was in a shelter where he couldn't be impacted by debris or the shockwave. Heat and radiation from it would be like a sunburn at worst.

However, he is not fireproof. While this substance is resistant to heat, it is not resistant to oxidation, so it WILL burn. Not well, and not fast, but it will burn.

Which leads me to the fact that he has some very unique organelles. Multiple types of mitochondria, Golgi bodies and ribosomes help manufacture the weirdness.

Part of that weirdness is of unknown deadliness though. When fully charged up, the light he emits contains dangerous wavelengths, and further study has yet to be done on whether and what types of radiation he may emit. It is known that his dense cytoplasmic substance can hold onto nuclear radiation, but does so very briefly.

As far as defenses go, he does actually have a pretty interesting, but accidental one, for the dense cytoplasmic substance of his cells naturally permeates into his blood plasma. This substance is extremely bitter and even potentially toxic at high enough doses. A mouthful of Lucifer's blood is enough to induce severe nausea, vomiting, cramping of the intestines (colic), and if swallowed, diarrhoea.

The strange substance of his cells also mediates the use of Elixir that is specific to himself. Elixir used for other purposes are rejects of the ones formulated just for him, and are effective at treating a wide variety of things.

On a related but unrelated note, though, the elixir has nasty side effects on humans and demons alike, often triggering the onset of various cancers and cysts, though it's not clear why this happens to some and not others. It is not known why Lucifer is seemingly immune to these side effects, but he could, potentially, be immune to cancer altogether.

Amaimon

Amaimon is a fucking draft horse, with a baseline strength of 9x that of a human. That's somewhere slightly above a pissed off gorilla and/or an attacking tiger, for reference. In high adrenalized mode, that number shoots up to a 12, which is about as high as biology will let anything go, courtesy square cube law.

His muscles are SO dense and heavy, in fact, that he is incapable of floating in water. He also isn't very fast for long distances. He has high stamina at low energy output, and low stamina at high energy output. He can walk for days on end, but in a dead sprint he can't go more than a kilometer at best before his muscles start to rip him apart.

Which leads to : bones. Amaimon takes a very reptilian approach to the issue of having super powerful muscles, and has fibrin and cartilage reinforced bones that bow rather than break. However, these bones have many sharp angles for muscular attachments, and as a result are very poor at resisting torsion (twisting) and high rates of compression. The last thing he wants to do is land on his feet from a great height, for he is likely to fracture his long bones.

But those are not the only bones he has - much like monitor lizards, including komodo dragons, he has ossicones embedded in his skin, forming a chain-mail mesh of steely bone just below the dermis that makes his skin very resistant to slashes and cuts, but very weak to stabbing and thrusting. Cleaving into him wont do much damage, but impaling him on a pike works great.

His organs are strange, made stranger by his blood, which has a pH value of 7.8, far more alkaline than most viruses or bacteria can survive, making him virtually immune to disease. Unfortunately that also impacts the bacteria in his gut, which as a consequence can exist nowhere else on earth.

On the flip side, his stomach secretes acid that is so caustic it dissolves bone in hours, and also destroys even the worst of pathogens. As touched upon before, he can regurgitate this acid onto attackers in self defense, even going so far as to spit it at them from a distance of two meters. It has a patently unpleasant odor too, adding to its defensive quality.

Amaimons claws are semi retractable and grizzly-like, making them excellent tools for digging and prying things apart. They're also really good at ripping people apart, and there is no armor that can really do effective justice except for one: spiky. His skin isn't super resistant to impalement, remember, so the pricklier the better. That is assuming he cant chip away at it. Good luck with that.

Another organ to mention is his tail. It's not exactly prehensile, but it is flexible and very, very powerful. One whack across the midsection could kill a man. In fact his tail is often his first line of defense against attackers; it's so robust and armored that it's almost impossible to injure, and it hits like a truck. Good for offense or defense, or even just lazing around.

Astaroth

Fungi boy has an average strength of just twice that of a human. But when pushed to his limits, he can use hydraulic musculature to increase his strength to 9x that of the average human.

Speaking of which, Astaroth has some weird musculature- or lack thereof. Rather than having ordinary, dense tissue, he instead has a hydraulic system of movement akin to that of a worm or slug. Not only that, but his muscles are not his own - rather they are controlled by slime molds, with which he has a symbiotic relationship. The muscles are very little muscle tissue and a whole lot of mycellial fibers. His body is literally made of fungus, controlled by fungi and microorganisms, and is fed and defended by these things.

He is, in light of this, able to turn his body temperature on or off in any area he needs to at-will, giving his slimy friends the home they need.

He has a perfect mastery over the simple organisms he controls, and can exchange them at will. This combined with the ability to live without body heat means he is completely immune to all but the most severe of environments. As long as he has access to moisture, he can survive and thrive at sub zero temperatures and well into the triple digits. However he can not live without his slimy friends, and so can not endure drought very well. Deserts are the bane of his existence.

When it comes to defenses, Astaroth is nothing but. Toxic spores, all colours of miasma, foul smells, and even sharp needles and thorns when necessary. Nothing with a lick of sense would dare try to eat him, with the exception of microorganisms and parasites thereof - but it's not him they consume, but his symbiotes, which again he can simply discard or exchange as need be.

He is however very slow moving, typically, and doesn't really have a 'flee' or 'fight' response. Instead he freezes, exuding and oozing his more unfriendly companions to deter attack. If this should fail though, however unlikely, he is remarkably fragile and slow to heal, though virtually impossible to kill.

His only real weakness is well established: fire. It is the great sterilizer, though light is also not something he can easily defend against either. Neither are vacuums and immense air pressure. Basically if it's not within the realms of ordinary natural phenomena he has no ability to escape or defend. This gives him an edge against the younger of the Kings, but makes him powerless against the older half.

Whew! That was a lot. This post took FOREVER to make!

Questions and comments are welcome, reading with a grain of salt in mind is recommended.

[jemej3m]

Listen bud, hunger games au, Andrews the mockingjay, Neil’s been captured by his dad aka the game maker

if you’re looking for an extended hunger games au @gluupor‘s on ao3 is my all-time favourite, but here’s a oneshot (are oneshots all i know how to do??)

*

Andrew doesn’t want to be here. The whole place is writhing with death and misery, but there’s a whole camera crew asking him to interact with these people, these men and women and children who are fighting and dying for an idealistic cause. 

Andrew is not an empathetic person. Kevin says that doesn’t matter. Just the sight of him, with his Mockingjay pin, will be enough to inspire hope. 

At least he’s here, shepherding Andrew around, doing all the talking. Nicky’s being all amicable too, crouched by overcrowded beds and talking nonsense. Aaron’s probably somewhere, being useful. 

His team. His support. Coming out onto the front lines with him, because they genuinely believed that Andrew was going to change the world.

When Andrew volunteered in Aaron’s place, he didn’t think he’d ever see his family again. 

Just goes to show: nothing is predictable. Not in a world like this. 

Andrew beelines for the lonely kids, the ones without parents, shunted into the corner. There’s one with a stump instead of an arm, like Kevin, and one who was avoxxed in the raid, like Nicky’s boyfriend. They all learned sign language for him, so Andrew kneels on the floor and says hello.

The kid’s eyes light up when he realises Andrew can talk to him. The others get excited too, crowding around.  

They ask him questions. He talks whilst he signs, keeping his voice low. He tells them what sunrise looks like from the capitol’s training tower, how to properly throw a knife, why you choosing your family is important, and protecting them even more so. Their eyes are as wide as saucers, drinking in every word. Andrew has always been good with kids. 

He realises that the cameras have been trained on him and stops talking. The kids get sad, but then a nurse comes around to move Andrew along so that they can have their checkups. Andrew hoists himself up off the ground, ignoring his cousin as he comes closer. He has tears in his eyes. 

“That was beautiful,” he says. “Neil would -” 

“Shut up,” Andrew snaps, because there’s a lot of things he tries not to think about, and Neil is one of them. 

His and Neil’s story is a long one. Andrew was in the 5th district, the fostered son of the mayor. He had a best friend, one he didn’t tell anyone about lest his older brother, Drake, discover how pretty Neil was. Neil’s mother was overprotective, hiding him away from the public eye, but together they would climb outside the district’s boundaries and play together in the woods. 

Then Andrew met his biological family when Major Cass Spear was invited to the 12th district for diplomacy. He decided to stay. He was twelve at the time: he and Aaron entered the reapings that year. His cousin had three years left, but would never be voted in: he was also the son of a terrible mayor. When Nicky turned 18, Tilda died, his parents disowned him, and he looked after the twins for another 2 years before Aaron was reaped and Andrew took his place. 

That year, a scrawny seventeen year old from the 2nd district, who wasn’t a career tribute, volunteered himself. It wasn’t until Andrew had met all the tributes in the capitol that he realised who that kid was: Neil, his childhood best friend, who was fulfilling an old promise of protection. 

Andrew had hated him quite a bit for it: only one of them was meant to escape the arena. There were bets placed on how soon Andrew would kill him and how. None of them knew the truth. None of them knew that Andrew would rather die than kill Neil. 

So, in the end, when it’d just been the two of them, they swore a truce. They fought against the capitol’s attempts at whittling them down till the capitol gave up. Andrew thought they’d beat the system: it took him a hellish victory tour, another trip back to the arena and losing Neil to the capitol to know that wasn’t true. 

Neil. Neil, Neil, Neil. The other reason Andrew doesn’t want to be here. Neil’s back in district 13, recovering from his weeks spent being tortured at the capitol’s hands. The rebels weren’t given the chance to grab him before the capitol snatched him away. Andrew had paced grooves into the ground during his absence. 

And when he came back? Well, Andrew would’ve rathered that Neil forgot him entirely. Instead they - his father, his worst nightmare and most talented gamemaker in the capitol - had turned Neil against him. Made him loathe Andrew with every fibre of his being. Enough so that he’d tried to strangle Andrew when they’d first been reunited. 

He is better now, but still avoiding Andrew at every possible junction. Andrew inexplicably still wants to stay by his side. Abby says his memory will return with time. Andrew will just have to wait. 

Nicky’s eyes go wide. “I thought you were going to sort things out with him -” 

But then Kevin is yelling, sirens are wailing. The hospital begins to dissolve into panic. Andrew only has to hear someone yell “Bombs!” to understand, being directed out of the building. Someone’s trying to set up artillery to shoot them down. It’s too late. Andrew’s lot makes it out, but only a handful of patients are able to stumble out after them before the building explodes. Andrew looks over his shoulder as they’re running towards where their helicopter is descending. The warehouse structure has collapsed inwards. Those who hadn’t died in the explosion are being torn apart by shrapnel and debris. All those kids. Gone. 

“Turn the camera on,” he murmurs, holding out his hands. The bomber planes aren’t turning around, but there’s a second fleet of carrier craft behind them, bringing peacekeepers by the dozen. 

“Andrew,” Aaron says, stricken. The camera’s red light is already flashing. 

“This is what you get for remaining neutral,” Andrew spat out, flinging a pointed hand behind him at the burning hospital. “Massacred. Think about that next time you assume the capitol will be on your side.” 

He’s facing away from the carnage. It’s the only reason that he doesn’t see the peacekeeper aim and fire. He doesn’t even realise he’s been shot until the rest of him start screaming. 

By then it’s too late: he’s falling, falling into darkness, wishing that he’d never involved himself in this stupid rebellion in the first place. 

*

He blinks awake and stares at the ceiling. District thirteen, being a burner district, doesn’t have many variations in its ceilings, but Andrew knows this one all too well. 

He’s in the hospital. 

His hands go to his arms: the armbands are still there, but they’re rolled down and his knives are gone. There’s a morphine drip in his left elbow and fluids in his right. He can barely feel his body. 

“I have your knives,” says a familiar voice. Andrew has to be dreaming. 

Neil’s appearance has always fluctuated: when they’d first met, his hair had been black and his eyes natural blue. During the games he’d started off with brown hair and brown eyes, but a lack of resources meant that he’d ended up forgoing the contacts and letting his roots grow out. He’d forgone the brown eyes but kept up with the dye till the second games, which hadn’t lasted long enough for any major changes. 

Now he is fully and unequivocally Nathaniel Wesniniski, son of Nathan, scarring on his cheeks, arms and torso telling a narrative that is a hard-won fight. Nathan and his lackey Lola had both been killed brutally in Neil’s rescue. Andrew is glad.

“Hey,” Neil says, when Andrew isn’t exactly forthcoming. “How are you faring?”

“You’re not here to finish the job?”  

Neil’s lips quirk. “Drama queen. Your suit was fitted with kelvar: there’s a lot of bruising, but you’ll be fine in a week.” 

Andrew drops his head back down onto his pillow. “Dammit.” 

Neil snorts. He’s in a good mood. Andrew can tell he’s still on edge, but he was always a paranoid kid. It’s not going to take some genial bedside manner to undo everything his father did. 

“I know that everything they told me was fake,” he says, looking at the knives in his hands. “I have always been a jumble of identities and false pretences. This  shouldn’t be news to you.” 

Andrew just hums. He can’t even wiggle his toes. How the hell did they had stuff this strong down here? They were all eating onion slop rations but had morphine good enough to even send Dan into a spiral.  

“I gave this knife to you,” Neil continues, holding up a sleek blade. Matte black. Andrew’s sharpest blade and perfectly weighted for throwing. “This was my mother’s. You must have been very special to me if I gave you this.” 

“I hate you,” Andrew says. 

“Are you sure?” Neil asks. “Because I’m not.” 

Andrew just huffs. 

“I remember...” he hesitates. “I remember us. Together. In your district 12 victory house, after the tour...then again, in the tower before the 75th games.”

Andrew stares at the wall opposite him. He really doesn’t want to have this conversation. “It didn’t mean anything.” 

“I think it did,” Neil says, softspoken. He’s never soft-spoken. “My father - he couldn’t create new memories. He could only twist old ones. For me to hate you as much as I did, I must have really...You know. Lo-” 

“Don’t,” Andrew says, because this a war and if he hears something like that fate will go against him. “I’m not your answer, Neil.” 

Neil shrugs. “Okay.” Then, with methodical precision, he checks Andrew’s vitals, removes the needles and rolls up his bands. Then he slides the knives in place, fingertips briefly brushing over Andrew’s skin. Andrew, for some reason, lets him. 

“Your last morphine dose was seven hours ago,” Neil says, settling back into his chair. “It’ll wear off soon. You were asleep for nearly 2 days, did you know? Aaron says the bruising is horrific. You probably won’t be able to move for another 3 days. But hey, at least all the districts are in revolt now. You getting shot on camera actually helped the cause...” 

He chatters innocuously. Andrew listens. Neil’s still nervous, still schooling his bodily reactions of hatred and disgust, but he’s here anyway. Distracting Andrew from his own snare of a mind. 

Maybe there’s goodness in this terrible, terrible world. 

Maybe Andrew can have it. 

He’ll just have to live long enough to find out.

*

yeehawwww

[sickgrave]

I’m going to share a bit of my breast reduction surgery experience since I couldn’t find a lot of info about people that went through it while being chronically ill! Feel free to reach out and ask questions if there’s anything I didn’t cover below ❤️ 

Here’s a bit about prep and the first few weeks of post-op recovery (tw for mentions of throwing up, needles, blood, and general surgery talk):

Prep:

I was scheduled for surgery on a Monday and got a call from one of my surgeon’s nurses on Friday (since they close over the weekend) to go over prep. I was allowed to eat until 4:30 AM the morning of my surgery since I wasn’t scheduled until 12:30PM, but ended up letting dinner be my last meal. I asked the nurse if I should take my usual meds before surgery (Xeljanz, tirosint (levothyroxine) and she said no. HOWEVER, when I mentioned that I take corlanor and explained what it does (keeps my heart rate normal instead of spiking to 200) she decided I should absolutely take it with a sip of water the morning of. Make sure to go down the list, ask EXPLICITLY about your medications and explain why you may have hesitancies about not taking them. Sometimes nurses just... don’t know what drugs do what- especially if you go through a surgeon’s practice and not a hospital- and that’s okay! The more thorough you can be the better you can make sure your experience is.

Day of (before the surgery):

I ended up getting called in early since my surgeon’s schedule seemed to be opening up (good thing I didn’t eat wicked late like they said I could!). I was taken back almost immediately. I was asked to pee in a cup for last minute testing (pregnancy tests smh 🙄) and given what was basically tylenol to take while I waited for the anesthesiologist. 

The team was very quick to hook up my i.v. (one poke in my hand! that’s a new record honestly) and shortly after the surgeon came in with a student to make guide marks with a pen- we also discussed my goals one last time to make sure we were on the same page about size. I was walked over to the surgical table, situated myself, and got about 5 words in before I knocked out for good!

While I was briefed about the possibility of having drains inserted there was a good chance I would be sent home without them. I personally didn’t need them but you might- and your nurses and surgeon will go into great detail to tell you how to care for them and when you should be able to remove them!

Day of (after the surgery):

This is where it gets the most hazy for me. I know I was kept in the facility for an hour after the surgery but don’t remember any of it. I don’t remember the nurse helping me get dressed, or wheeling me outside. I do remember throwing up quite violently and not being able to figure out where the vomit bag was or how to keep it in front of my face. I do remember the heat really getting to me and thinking I wouldn’t feel so sick if I were inside and cooled. If you have a home with stairs or live in an apartment I highly recommend you DON’T CLIMB STAIRS. Maybe arrange to stay with a friend or at a hotel if you can, or stay on the first floor of your home. Even with 2 people helping me I stumbled almost drunkenly, while vomiting, just praying I could get to my recliner before I passed back out again. It was terrifying and I definitely didn’t have the strength to deal with it- I’m lucky I didn’t crack my head on the concrete stairs outside or fall flat on my chest.

I vaguely remember being fed ice chips (highly suggest having ice ready, as well as popsicles and ice cream) and sleeping a lot. Once I was awake, we discovered I couldn’t take the pain meds I was given due to allergies. I ended up taking extra strength tylenol at normal doses and though I was uncomfortable, I made it by just fine. The pain levels are pretty exhausting but I think the worst part is that it’s consistently achey and feels tight- like your breasts are way too high on your chest. I was allowed to use ice packs for 20 minutes at a time but my cousin who recently had the same procedure was told to completely avoid it. As with most things listen to your surgeon and their specific instructions for YOU and your body- there’s usually a reason.

Post-op (1 day after):

This seemed quick to me, but the day after my surgery I went back to see my surgeon. He removed the surgical bra I was sent home with and I IMMEDIATELY got nauseous and gagged a lot- but once I had ice packs and a cool drink I felt alright. There’s a lot of bruising and swelling the first week so your tits look pretty gnarly. If you have any signs of infection you’ll be put on antibiotics, but luckily for me I seemed to be healing just fine. The back relief and lack of weight is amazingly immediate though! I could already feel miles and miles better. 

I was told that I could shower the next day (wed) and to be careful about it. I fully recommend taking it SUPER slow. The release of pressure when removing the surgical bra really takes it out of you. I was able to shower for maybe 5 minutes before I had to tap out and vomit some more. It felt amazing to get clean though. 

Recovery:

I tried to get back to work (I’m still remote so this would’ve just been sitting up and being on my computer) 2 days after but couldn’t handle sitting up like that. By Friday (the 4th day) I was much better. I wasn’t nauseous anymore and could sit up and work, pay attention better to the tv/games, and just all around felt more aware and in less pain. 

At my 1 week post op I didn’t feel sick when removing the bra and was told I could start wearing zip front sports bras. I could start to lift my arms pretty well and now (at 3 weeks post op) I’m able to lift my arms above my head without any pain or weakness. The 2 week mark is when I’d say I noticed the most leakage from my wounds. While I didn’t tear anything (which is totally normal, just make sure to reach out if it seems excessive!) my bandages did have a bit of blood and fluid, mostly around the under-boob.

My wounds are already fading so well and since most of the wounds are closed up I’m not really leaking anymore. The only pains I have are the occasional ache and a shooting pain you’ll feel in your nipples every now and again, which is good because nerves are reconnecting but really sucks for about half a second. 

Having multiple chronic illnesses I think it took me a little longer to get to a place where I felt comfortable resuming tasks. I’m definitely still a little more weak than usual and can’t push myself as far as I usually do. I’ll try to add more info as I remember it and share any questions that come my way!

Overall I’m super happy with the results and the few days of throwing up (which is my personal hell tbh I can stand a lot but vomit is the last of it) were worth it looking back.

[marvelfansince08love]

The Pleasure is all mine  Chapter 3 - Part 2

Word Count: 1831

Pairing: Lou Miller x Fem!Reader.

Setting: Continuation from chapter 3 part 1.

Warnings: Pure Fluff to be honest. 

A/N: As if I’ve uploaded another chapter in the space of three days, is this the new me?... probably not. I hope you enjoy the chapter! I had to do a little bit of research for this one. Attempted to proofread however fell asleep after doing a 12 hour shift - go me! so I do apologise for any grammar or spelling mistakes. I spent way too long trying to make the format perfect but alas Tumblr wants to see me suffer.

Your comments/ feedback brings happiness to this potato trash! 🖤

Tags: @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @5aftermidnight @iamheartless @deadly-darling​ @gaylorrds 

I do not own the gif below!

Chapter 3 - Part 2  

Holy shit!

"I'm sorry, I thought for a second there you said you were a con artist. I didn't realise we were in a movie" I say sarcastically. Her lip quirks up slightly but her eyes stay locked with mine.

 "You can't be serious! Is that why Debbie was shot at?!" 

 "A group called Python have been collecting Breitling Chronomat watches worth over 8million a piece in exchange for 18k white gold #rings with over 250 brilliant-cut diamonds in each one. In shorter terms they are worth more than the watches to these guys, apparently the ringleader has ancestors who inherited these rings which were stolen and auctioned off. It's known that at least four of those rings are based right here in New York in our very own Cartier store. We scanned them, made some of our own. it was supposed to be a simple exchange but something went wrong. A gun was pulled - the poor kid was only young, I guess he panicked. Probably didn't want to go back to his boss and explain how he lost the entire set of watches worth more than his life as well as being outwitted by a woman. She was lucky he was such a crap shot" 

I gape at her in utter shock. 

"I think, I need a glass of wine" I whisper mainly to myself, but Lou hears and goes to stand. I watch her carefully, taking in her rigid posture her eyes darting back towards me as she heads to the kitchen.

 Probably to make sure I don't run out on her again.  

She walks back over with a big glass of white and places it in front of me, instead of sitting back on the edge of the sofa occupied by Debbie she perches on the edge of the table, so we're knee to knee. She reaches forward and takes hold of my hands keeping them in-between both of hers. 

"I know this is a lot to take in and trust me, that job was dangerous, and we don't normally work that way. It won't be happening again, but I at least owe you an explanation. I understand if after this you never want to see me again, I totally deserve that after putting you through this" her hands tightening around mine, I finally look up and see her eyebrows pinched in a frown, her eyes glossed over. 

I gently remove my hands from hers and take a big gulp from my glass before putting it down and reaching over to cup her jawline. My thumb caresses her cheek, she leans into my touch just a fraction - her eyes closed.

"You promise me that in future you tell me exactly what's going on. No secrets Lou, I don't want this sort of thing dropping on me again because if that's the case I'm afraid I can't be with... around you" my words strong and clear - completely the opposite to how I'm really feeling - scared and unsure. Her eyes open showing me those beautiful crystal blues, with a small smile on those delicious lips.

 "Okay"

 I grin.

 "Okay"

 *** 

After what seems like hours of talking, we finally reached an understanding. With all the serious talk over with, we gradually move on to lighter topics - mainly Lou asking about me. 

"So, you are telling me you decided to become a Nurse after your brother ripped the arm off your most precious teddy, if that doesn't scream childhood trauma" she smirks teasing me. I blush at her smirk and gently shove at her arm which causes her to stumble back slightly making her laugh.

 "Yes! I ended up stitching him back up and nursing him back to health, thank you very much" I laugh along with her, we hear Debbie stir from the sofa across the room. We both turn to look at her resting peacefully and with no signs of fever.

 We chuckle quietly before a yawn escapes me. Lou sees me yawn before standing up and put her hands out for me to take.

 "Come on you can crash here tonight, I'm sorry I didn't realise how late it was. Fuck! you've been on shift as well, I'm an awful person"

 "It's okay Lou I'm used to it but seriously I can go home, I'll get a cab" she's already shaking her head at my proposition.

 "Not happening, its 2 in the morning Y/N you can sleep in my bed"

 I raise an eyebrow at that.

 "Don't worry we're both adults here I'm sure we can share a bed without ripping each other’s clothes off Y/N"

 "Who says I want to rip your clothes off Miller"

 She smirks devilishly and steps into my space, making me walk backwards until my back hits a wall. She places her hands on either side of my head and leans in close until her nose brushes lightly against mine, her lips almost brushing against mine. My breath hitches, my eyes drawing to her lips.

 "Cheek - but we both know this isn't the time or the place" there's an agonising pause and then:

 "It really isn't, so could you horny lesbians take it to a private room away from my poor innocent ears. Hearing this is worse than being shot at"

 We both jump apart and turn towards Debbie who is now sat up taking her next dose of medication. I feel my cheeks redden in embarrassment. I can't believe we almost got caught like some horny teenagers.

 "Is the offer for the bed still available" I say quietly into Lou's ear who seems to be preoccupied staring Debbie down.

 "Of course, first floor, second door on the left"

 I say a quick thanks before sliding away from Lou's side and towards the stairs.

 "Good night Y/N thank you again" Debbie teases all while staring straight back at Lou with a grin. I blush even harder if that's even possible before muttering a good night while taking the stairs two at a time.

 ***

 Once I've washed my face in the ensuite bathroom I turn towards the large bed in the middle of the room; Lou's bed. Before I can think more about the bed arrangement, Lou appears against the door frame of the room.

 "You can borrow some clothes if you like? I have some shorts and oversized shirts"

 "That would be great actually" I stand awkwardly by the bed, watching as Lou goes towards a table of draws. She passes me the pieces of clothing and stands with her arms crossed.

 I raise an eyebrow and twirl my finger around indicating for her to turn around. Her hands come up in mocking surrender before turning around with a wide grin.

 "Are you always this cheeky or do I get special treatment"

 Her shoulders shaking indicating her laughter.

 "Only for you, love"  

 I grin softly and quickly change into the clothes I've been given. The shorts stop mid-thigh while the old band t-shirt flows just above the knee. I decide last minute to abandon the shorts seeing no use for them.

 Besides the shirt covers what it needs to and showing a little bit of leg never hurt no one.  

 "You can turn around now"

 With her hands still up she turns back around, once she sees me standing there her hands drop to her side, her eyes dropping to the bottom of my feet and slowly making their way up - taking in my form. Her eyes darken, I see her swallow hard before she shakes her head.

 "So, I normally take the left side as it's closer to the door. You're welcome to the right side of the bed though"

 "Shouldn't one of us stay with Debbie? I don't feel comfortable leaving her by herself"

 "Don't worry Tammy came down just after you left, she's going to stay with her. I did try to get her to go back up, but she refuses to leave her side. I'm surprised she even let us keep her away for so long"

 "Oh, oh"

 "Yeah" she says with a smirk amused by my realisation.

 You couldn't have gotten it more wrong, nice move L/N.

 "We should get to bed, I'm sorry again for keeping you up. I promise I'll make it up to you" she says, making her way to her side of the bed. I reluctantly make my way to the other side and slowly make myself comfortable lying on my back facing the ceiling. I feel Lou shift around trying to get comfortable, from the corner of my eye I notice her lying towards me the soft glow from the streetlights lighting up her face - just enough to see those crystal blue eyes and that signature smirk.

 "So, do you want me to stack a few pillows in a line between us or I could make us a fort"

 I chuckle quietly before turning onto my side so we're facing each other. Her hand reaches forward, her fingertips brush gently across my cheek; brushing my hair out of my face.

 "So beautiful" she whispers. I bite my lip gently and drop my gaze - suddenly feeling very shy.

 "Downstairs before - if we weren't interrupted do you think you would have done it"

She smirks softly, a glint of amusement in her eyes.

 "Would have done what, love?"

I roll my eyes playfully knowing she's making me say it.

 "Kissed me"

 Her playful demeanour changes to something more serious.

 "Is that what you want Y/N, for me to kiss you?" There's a pause while I debate my answer.

 "Yes"

 Before I have a chance to continue Lou leans forward, her hand still resting gently against my jawline and brushes her lips against mine before pressing firmer deepening the kiss. Her lips are soft, the taste of cherries and wine. I moan softly at the feel of her lips against mine but before I can take it any further Lou pulls away reluctantly. I look at her in confusion, suddenly scared that I might have taken it too far. She leans her forehead against mine and presses a light kiss to my nose before brushing against it with her own lightly.

 "As much as I would love to continue this, I really want to take you out on a date"

 "A date?"

 "Yes, it's when two people who really like each other..."

 "I know what a date is, smartass" I chuckle at her playfulness and her stupid grin.

 "So, will you? Go on a date with me"

 "Yes, I'll go on a date with you" with a big grin I lean forward and kiss her cheek softly. She smiles a proper smile before putting her arm around my waist - pulling me closer. Her lips brushing against my forehead.

 "Good night Y/N"

 "Good night Lou, sweet dreams"

 Closing my eyes, I drift into a deep sleep, thinking about those soft lips and crystal blue eyes.

[justimajin]

It’s a Reverse Basket ◍ Part 16

⇝ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

⇝ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ Basketball AU, Crossdressing AU

⇝ Words: 4.7k

⇝ Summary: Basketball is your everything; your passion for it running deep and wanting nothing more then to play the sport. Problem is, the sport isn’t offered competitively to girls and with that, all your hopes immediately fizzle away… …but who ever said that was going to stop you?

⇝ Warnings: pg13; *cranks up the fluff volume*

gif credit.

�� Previous Parts: Moodboard Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

⇝ Next Update: Tuesday, June 30 

You’re surprised by how well things have been going these past couple of weeks.

From having a sudden run in with Min Yoonji during a game to celebrating Valentine’s Day in a frenzy, nothing short of huge doses of schoolwork and constant practice has followed you there after. That being said, you’re still pleasantly surprised by how much closer to Yoongi you’ve managed to grow through the span of these weeks. 

It all started off when he asked you to go to another basketball game with him. Your eyes instantly lighted up at the opportunity, head nodding in agreement and before you know it, you and Yoongi are sitting on the highest bleachers, watching the impending game with such intensity compared to the normal individuals just watching the game out of pure enjoyment. It leads into you asking him more and more questions during practice, to the point where Yoongi stays back a couple of minutes just to show you some move a player did that you were curious about. You have a hard time paying attention though, especially when he nonchalantly walks wearing your woven creation.  

Soon after, Yoongi starts to wander over to your dorm after hours. At first you were a little taken aback with the idea of roaming around at the cost of sleep, but you come to the realization that because of rigorous practice and different classes, you and Yoongi don’t get a chance to spend time together as frequently. However when you agreed to go watch a movie with him, you hadn’t picked up on the way his gaze looked heavy and his slumping form earlier enough, only to discover a heavy weight slumping onto your shoulder and soft snores echoing from his side mid-way.

You repress a smile when he clings onto you, watching the rest of the movie with a sigh until you eventually have to nudge him a little and he mumbles something incoherent. You end up dragging him back to his dorm all on your own, a task you still wonder how you managed to accomplish. The next time Yoongi finds you in the library, studying for an upcoming test and you stare up at him in confusion. His bag ends up on the ground beside your table as he plants down onto a seat, going through his own notes but occasionally giving you snacks that he rummages out of his bag. You begin to protest when Yoongi starts to feed you too many of them, but then he glares at you and says something along the lines of ‘a student and athlete should never be malnourished’ and the whole thought of saying no leaves from your mind entirely with a groan. You work the rest of the night in peace and quiet, though you admit it’s hard to ignore how comfortable Yoongi’s presence is around you, even if he’s sitting with you in silence and doing his own work.

From there, you find ways of spending time with one another, whether it was during the twilight hours of the day or times you would abruptly run into each other. You pick up little things about Yoongi, from his preference about doing the most mundane tasks in the form of spending time together, not keen on huge displays of affection as people would normally want them. You find that he doesn’t like to hold conversations for long, his mind growing exhausted too quickly and needing to just be somehow near you instead. You understand that he isn’t the best when it comes down to speaking about his troubles, so you try to cheer him up by doing small things for him that will uplift his spirits instead. Though when you’re troubled about something, you discover the red-haired man seems to drop everything that’s going on immediately and goes out of his way to make you tell him, giving you the most brutal but much needed advice.

These last couple of weeks have given you the opportunity to understand him better, but you can’t say it was able to prepare you when an unseen predicament looms over your heads. 

“Y-You want to w-what?” Your eyes are completely wide, breath being caught in your throat.

Yoongi instantly notices; the light dust of pink over his skin giving him away already as he mumbles, “Is it too much?”

“No!” You quickly take back, hand raised in front of him. You hurriedly chuck away the basketball in your other hand, moving to completely face him. “I-I was just surprised….but sure, I’d love to.”

Your answer doesn’t seem to convince him enough, his eyes narrowing, “What about Jungkook and Taehyung?”

Oh right. You didn’t even consider them.

“Uh….” Scrambling for anything they’ve told you, a light bulb suddenly lights up above your head, “They sometimes go over to Jimin and Hoseok’s place for movie nights!”

Yoongi ponders, “That could work….”

“It should, I’ll just tell them Hyerin’s coming over or something and we can figure things out from there.” You hastily reassure him, but Yoongi isn't budging.

“Are you sure? I could ask Namjoon if I can go to his apartment instead, I think it’s about 20 minutes away…” He pulls out his phone to double check, but you place your hands over it and shake your head.

“Don’t worry, It’ll work out.”

He stares back at your hopeful eyes, shoulders slumping as he sighs. “Alright.” You smile as he grabs his bag, giving you a small wave before heading out the gym doors. Once he’s out of sight, you instantly let out the breath that’s been stuck in the bottom of your throat.

Moving to get your own bag, you ponder over what he’s told you.

“Someone broke a waterpipe or something and the construction workers will be over for 3-4 hours on Thursday evening to fix it. We’ve been told to make any arrangements because it could take until morning if the building is being affected, so…” Yoongi explains, avoiding your curious gaze, “So I was wondering if I could stay over for a couple of hours? We can watch a movie together if you’d like.”

He stares at you once he finishes. You know it’s nothing out of the norm, from your already late library sessions to going out during the night, but the fact that Yoongi’s going to be in your dorm and wants to spend time with you in there, is causing you to freak out a bit.

“Y-You want to w-what?”

You sigh, mulling over how harmless the idea seemed now. Yoongi just needed somewhere to crash for a few hours and he thought that using the opportunity to spend time with you would be nice, so how could you say no to that?

After padding over to your dorm, you take your keys out and twist the knob, walking in to see Taehyung lounging on the couch and Jungkook rummaging through the fridge in the kitchen.

“Y/N!” Taehyung waves you over, “Back from practice?”

“Uh yeah,” You place your backpack on the ground, “I was just talking to the captain about–“

“Captain?” Taehyung muses, a mischievous grin on his features, “You don’t call him Yoongi?”

You frown, “Not during practice hours….”

“Ohh okay, I see, I see.” Taehyung continues to smirk and you inwardly sigh.

Ever since you told Taehyung and Jungkook about your feelings towards Yoongi, the two have gone out of their way to slyly tease you about it somehow. Although you just normally brush it off, sometimes they send you these types of looks implying something more and you know you can’t tell them that you’ve actually been with Yoongi for quite a while….just not in the form they see you in.

With a soft smile, you settle down on the couch and Jungkook strolls over with a container of food, sharing a similar smile with Taehyung and having clearly heard your conversation. You decide to take them away from the topic of Yoongi, straying to more impending matters.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you guys!” Taehyung suddenly blurts out, “Jimin and Hoseok were asking if we wanted to do another movie night.”

Jungkook hums, munching down on some greens. You freeze at the topic, eyes wide. 

“Why don’t you guys do it at their dorm this time?” You suggest, meekly giving out a quick excuse to be excluded, “I-I have a quiz I need to study for…”

Well that wasn’t entirely untrue, except this time a certain maroon-haired person will be joining you instead.

Taehyung pursues his lips in understanding, darting his eyes at Jungkook, “What do you say? Movie night but with four of us?”

Jungkook nods, “I’m in.”

Taehyung hums, failing to catch out the sigh of relief that passes by your lips. 

***

A soft knock resonates against the door to your dorm. You speedily rush over, hands twisting around the handle with a huge smile. 

Your smile drops and eyes widen once it’s open. 

Yoongi stands at the doorframe in a pair of brightly coloured blue flannel pajamas, highlighting the colour of his tousled hair. A pillow and blanket are tightly wrapped around one of his hands while the other carries a large bag, appearing like it was going to explode from being stuffed to the brim. A pair of reading glasses sit on the edge of his nose, his tired eyes enlarged and astounded through them.

Because it seems like you’re not the only one surprised by his attire.

Hyerin had decided to leave some of your old belongings with you, including the long wig she had especially bought in case you wanted to dress like yourself. You took it upon yourself to wear the old pink nightdress you used to sleep in, your long locks cascading down and a pair of fluffy slippers nestled in on your feet. You figured that since Taehyung and Jungkook weren’t going to be at the dorm, you can take the opportunity to take some comfort in your former clothes. 

However, his expression tells you he wasn’t expecting it, the stifled exhaustion in his form instantly disappearing.

Breaking out of his daze, he awkwardly coughs, eyes gesturing to your door.

“Can I come in?”

You snap out of it too, opening the door fully, “Y-Yeah, of course!”

Yoongi steps in and you hurriedly shut the door, swiveling around to see him surveying the area. At first you thought it was a bit strange from how he was so keenly observing everything, but then it occurs to you that this is the first time he’s even been in your dorm and that’s enough for you to be flustered.

Scrambling for some words, you choose to point instead. Yoongi begins walking in the direction of your room and pauses for a moment before entering, gaze moving over to you. It strikes you that he’s waiting for you to come over and open the door, finding it wrong in himself to simply barge in.

He enters and you linger at the door frame, eyes glancing around for any speck of dust you had forgotten to clean. Luckily Yoongi doesn’t even notice, more interested in taking pieces of your room in. He eyes the table at the edge of your bed, the appearance of a familiar frame arising a small smile from him as he plops his stuff onto the ground. 

“Are you hungry?”

You don’t realize he’s staring at you until he says something, the words catching you off guard. “O-Oh I haven’t had dinner yet, I can go to the kitchen and cook something for us…“

Yoongi shakes his head, leaving the premises of your room and padding over to the kitchen. You watch in bewilderment when he starts taking supplies out, as if being in there was second nature to him.

“Can you put a pot of water on the stove?” He requests, already in the midst of searching your fridge for ingredients. Nodding in surprise, you take out the biggest pot you have and turn up the heat on the stove, pouring water into it as the heat shimmers.

Yoongi suddenly whirls around, dumping a mix of vegetables into it. You simply watch as he starts chopping up a handful of onions, heavily blinking away the water that rushes to his eyes. Hastily grabbing onto a nearby towel, you dab at the sides and he softly smiles, adding the reminder to the boiling water. When you hand him a paddle to stir the mixture with, he gestures over to the couch. 

“Pick something, I can finish off the rest.”

With a nod, you leave him be and plop down, shuffling through the channels. Your mind ponders as you do, eyes unconsciously peering into your kitchen where you see Yoongi leaning over the stove and taste testing with a spoon.  The whole display spurs something in you, the act of him being in your dorm and cooking seeming so domestic and intimate, a whirlwind of emotions hitting you all at once. 

When a game appears on the screen, you’re immediately sucked in and decide to stop surfing, instead focusing on the way one of the players is shooting a hoop. A shiver runs down your back, suddenly realizing that you probably should have brought a sweater before you sat down.

However as soon as you get up, you’re planted right back onto the couch with something fluffy and heavy weighing down on your shoulders. You only catch a faint glimpse of Yoongi’s silhouette when you turn around, softly smiling as he’s managed to find Taehyung’s frilly apron somehow and laced it around his torso.

Watching Yoongi from the corner of your eye, you wonder if maybe he’s doing all this as a means of thanking you for letting him stay here with you. As if he already knew it was hard for you to immediately open your doors for him in such an abrupt way and he wanted to pay back the troubles with some gratitude of his own.

It’s confirmed once he saunters over to the couch, a filled hot pot brimming with steam placed right in front of you. He slumps down and tangles himself in the same blanket you’re currently secured in, wrapping his arm around you and tugging you closer to him.

Out of all the things that have so far happened in the evening, you would have to say this is the most familiar to you. Leaning your head against his shoulder, Yoongi reaches out to balance a bowl in front of you. You gratefully accept it from him, taking a spoonful and having a burst of flavours launch themselves into your taste buds. You widen your eyes and Yoongi seems to notice, a small yet smug smile resting on his lips.

You watch the game in silence as you take bites of the food, occasionally making remarks about the game. Yoongi hums alongside you, adding in his own comments and attempting to grab a spoon of the hot pot without bothering you somehow.

Although the peaceful atmosphere stays content for a while, eventually Yoongi stops answering you at one point and you have to dart a confused look over at him, only to realize he had unintentionally dozed off. You frown, recalling hearing from Namjoon that his building was having numerous issues and most of them were being fixed during late evenings, the result being a considerable amount of student complaints from the increased noise and their sleep constantly being disturbed.

Placing down the bowl resting on your lap, you tug on his shirt. 

“Yoongi.” You whisper, watching him stir as you tug again, “Yoongi, wake up.”

“Hm?” He weakly blinks, eyes fluttering until a flicker of light fills them and he realizes the ceiling above him doesn’t look like his own. However he relaxes when his eyes come into contact with your own, a smile weaving on your lips.

“Do you want to go to sleep?” You ask, gaze flickering over to your room, “I don’t mind, you look like you could use the rest.”

Yoongi opens his mouth as if to protest, but pouts when you sincerely look at him. Although you would have loved spending this time with Yoongi, you acknowledge that he’s been deprived of getting decent sleep and giving him an opportunity to be well rested isn’t something you’re going to take away.

 With a sigh, he untangles himself from you, arms stretching before glancing in your direction.

“Wake me up in an hour. I don’t want to oversleep.” You nod, watching him waddle over before disappearing into your room. Turning back to the game, you resume to contently eating in silence. 

The door slams open.

You jolt from the sound, a hand placed over your thudding heartbeat as an annoyed Taehyung suddenly emerges. Your eyes widen when Jungkook appears behind him, followed by Jimin and Hoseok.

Instantly you wrap the blanket around yourself in an attempt to cover your attire. Jimin catches the action, eyes sparking up.

“Y/N?” He smiles, but it drops into a frown when you’re sitting on the couch and watching a game, “I thought you had a quiz to study for?”

“I-I do, I was getting some dinner.” You point to your bowl, “Uh what about you guys, you’re back early…”

“Oh, our connection stopped working and we needed an extra cable.” Jimin starts searching around with Taehyung as Jungkook runs over to his room to check. Hoseok eyes what you’re eating, confusion masking over him.

He points down to it. “Woah Y/N, you made this?” 

You don’t know what to say so you just nod instead, but Hoseok frowns as he states the obvious.

“Hm, Yoongi likes to make hot pot often.”

“O-Oh really?” You nervously laugh. 

“Did you guys find it?” Jungkook shouts, earning a ‘that’s a negative’ from Taehyung. He emerges out of his room, a small wire in his hands.

“I have this….” He mumbles as Jimin walks over to look at it, “I don’t think it’s right one though.”

Taehyung sighs, gaze focused until it lands straight on you.

“Wait, Y/N!” He exclaims, “I think I saw one in your room the other day!”

Before Taehyung can twist the doorknob, you panic and shuffle over, still covered in a giant blanket.

“I can get it!” You nearly shout, everyone staring at you in confusion. Nervously smiling, you whip around and quickly enter your room, locking the door behind you within seconds. A drawn-out sigh leaves your lips as you back presses against the door, eyes widening even more at the display before you.

You’re a bit speechless when you see your window wide open, one of Yoongi’s legs and half of his torso already out the window. He glances up at you in surprise, like he hadn’t been expecting someone to open the door mid-way during his escape.

Hastily retrieving the cable your friends needed, you take one glance at Yoongi who has decided that hiding behind your bed was a better call, opening the door to face Taehyung.

“Here.” You let out a relieved sigh as Taehyung hands the cable to Jungkook and he hums, turning around to head back to the dorm across from you. However you’ve failed to consider that Jimin has disappeared in the meantime, suddenly rushing into the room with heaving breaths.

“Guys the signal’s completely gone out, it’s not even turning on anymore.”

“What, really?” A tick leaves Hoseok, shoulders slumping at the realization that their movie night was ruined.

“How about we just use the monitor we have here?” Jungkook turns to you, “We’ll keep the volume down.”

Before you can interject, Taehyung speaks up, “That’s a great idea!”

“But I–“

“Please Y/N!” Hoseok holds onto your protesting hands, “We never got to finish the end and I really want to know what happens.”

When the remaining set of eyes stare pleading at you, the words about to escape your mouth seem to vanish completely. You merely nod, all of them erupting in cheers as you can only helplessly glance at your room’s door.  

***

Yoongi sits on your bed confused when you slip into the room again, hurriedly spinning to lock the door handle. He raises an eyebrow at that, but it disappears once he catches a glimpse of your worried expression.

“They’ve decided to have their movie night here.” You say in dismay, Yoongi’s eyes widening for a split second before he’s humming. He clearly appears to be half conscious, probably frazzled from the abrupt intrusion just like you.

“We can just stay in here.” He mumbles, eyes darting over to you, “Did you get a chance to finish dinner at least?”

He exhales in relief when you nod, planting the heavy blanket that was covering you onto the ground and then sinking down. Grabbing your backpack, you decide it’ll be best if you got down to doing some schoolwork and Yoongi slides over to join you, snatching the bag he had brought with him.

The room dips into silence, the single faint echoes of your roommates coming through the walls as you attempt to concentrate on your notes. Yoongi seems to be studying for an assessment of his own, occasionally letting out a yawn as he does.

Yet he soon grows tired of the constant staring contest he’s been having with the notes, eyes sleepily blinking as he leans back on the side of your bed.

“You know,” He begins, your attention diverting over to him, “Yoonji wants to see you again.”

Your eyes widen and he smiles, “She’s been begging me to bring you over one day.”

“Bring me over where?” You ponder.

“To my house, where my parents live.” At that, you morph into a deer in headlights, stumbling on your words.

“I-I couldn’t just possibly show up out of the blue……”

“I know.” Yoongi whispers, “Which is why I want you to come with me instead.” 

You glance at him surprised but are even more taken aback at the tender gaze he gives you, flushing immediately. 

“A-Alright...” You mumble, catching the giant gummy grin on Yoongi’s features that just has your own heart doing flips.

A low sound buzzes in the midst of the feeling, Yoongi scrambling around to locate his phone.

“What is it?” You quickly ask, already noticing the crease forming in between his brows.

“My dorm manager just texted all of us.” Yoongi says, pursing his lips, “They said the repairs are done and we can return to the building.”

“Oh, that’s great.” You smile, but the look on Yoongi’s face tells you otherwise. It’s then you realize there’s no way for him to leave your dorm, the departure surely causing a multitude of questions to spark up from your roommates.

Yoongi seems to be lost in thought, eyes flickering as he ponders over the potential options he has. He could have quite easily left if Jimin and Hoseok’s connection wasn’t having issues, and he looked so tired because of their disruptions, time soaring by within hours.

It takes a shear load of courage from your part, but you don’t want him to go through any more hardship for the rest of the night.

“Y-You could always j-just stay here for the night….” You quietly offee, yet Yoongi’s ears pick up on it regardless.

Darting a quick glance up, he looks completely stunned. You’re alarmed when he suddenly covers his face, delicate pink rapidly dusting over his timid features at the suggestion.

***

The silence reigning in the room is nothing short of troubling, the blanket on your side slightly tugging away when Yoongi rustles next to you. You had been too persistent in not letting him sleep on the floor, even after he had informed you that it wasn't uncomfortable and he had been sleeping perfectly fine when he initially had gone to take a nap. The aftermath had led into you leaving half of your bed open for him, as he nonchalantly shuffled over and tucks himself into your blanket.

You stare at the ceiling for what seems like an eternity, too hyperaware of the person shoulders away from you to sleep.

“Y/N?” Yoongi mumbles, his voice thick with fatigue, “I think the window is still open.”

Your eyes perk up at that, poking your head out from your shared blanket to find that indeed, the source of the chilling breeze entering the room was the window in your room.

Deciding to close it, you push the blanket off of you and attempt to get off the bed, accidentally stumbling back as you do. Unaware that Yoongi had also gotten up to do the same thing, you end up knocking into him.

You hear a small ‘ow’ and panic. “Yoongi? Yoongi, are you okay?”

You can’t see anything in the dark, hands reaching out to pat down on his face as a way to gauge if he was alright or not. You receive an answer in the form of a small chuckle.

“I’m sorry!” You hurriedly whisper, still confused if you had unintentionally hurt him somehow, “Yoongi?”

He continues to laugh, an arm raising up high to pull you closer to him. When you stumble, he catches you in his arms and sinks back down on the pillow, a soft smile on his lips.

“Forget the window, I’m tired now.” He mumbles, inches away from your ear which only results in your face colouring into a shade of bright red. You have to admit that being in his embrace is incredibly cozy, the cool breeze entering the room getting long forgotten.

As the drowsiness hits you and you slowly begin lulling into the tiredness, Yoongi calls for you.

“Y/N.”

“Hmm.” Your lids open only a little, enough to see the small grin Yoongi holds.

“I think I forgot something else.”

His soft lips brush over yours for the slightest of moments, before he rests his head back on the pillow slyly. However, he doesn’t expect you to suddenly get up and reciprocate the action by abruptly pecking his lips again, quickly retracting and pulling the blanket over your head so he doesn’t catch the blush festering on your features.

Yoongi chuckles even as you desperately continue to hide your face from him, his teasing knowing no bounds until the two of you begin to settle down for the night. 

***

Taehyung stretches out his arms, a low yawn resonating through the dorm. His fluffy black hair is tousled and distorted, barely conscious eyes glancing around to see Jungkook sleeping on the couch. Jimin is near him, sitting on the foot of the sofa with his lips parted and soft snores echoing out. Hoseok is on the ground, spread out like a starfish with Jimin’s sweater tossed over him in the form of a blanket.

Getting up from the disarray of things, Taehyung pads over to the bathroom to splash water onto his face to draw out the exhaustion. He stifles back another yawn when he reaches it, a frown overtaking him at the appearance of a closed door.

A knock rattles against it, “Y/N, hurry up.” He tiredly mumbles, slumping his head against a nearby wall. When the door opens he perks up, rushing in immediately once it’s left unoccupied.

“Thanks.” He says, earning a silent nod of your head before you’re gone. He takes a bar of soap and begins to lather it between his hands, spreading it out evenly onto his face. Water pours out of the faucet and he splashes the water droplets against the soap, life slowly entering into his eyes again.

He pauses for a moment, drops of water still running down his face. He steals a glance at the door, narrowing his eyes for a split second. 

Times passes and he eventually shrugs it off, resuming back to washing his face. 

Perhaps if he were fully conscious, he would have noticed the way your hair was a completely different shade that morning.

[frigginfightme]

Good morning to all two of my followers, back pain sucks ass and doesn't even manage to do it in any way that's satisfying.

In light of that here are some tips curated by yours truly over several years of having a shitty back.

Have a tennis ball? Have one of those really weird fused tennis balls that's got the dip in the middle between the two balls? That is now your best friend. Lay on it for hours on end.

Don't have a fused tennis ball? How about 2 tennis balls and some duct tape? Yes? Duct tape two tennis balls together and make sure there's a divot in the middle of the balls for your spine to sit in. That is now your best friend whenever you are laying down.

Sitting up hurting? Instead of sitting upright immediately, roll on your side from your back, and push your self all the way up using your arms. Do not use your core muscles. That will cause more pain. 0/10, I don't recommend causing more pain.

Heat packs and ice packs are both your friends. Alternate them so you can bring down inflammation in your joints (your back has quite a lot of those) with ice, and relax your muscles with heat.

Don't lay on your stomach... Just don't. Especially if the pain is in your low back. Trust me on this, it only makes it worse. Upper back might not be so affected by it though.

Hot showers. Long hot showers. Enough said.

I can not endorse icy hot enough. Or aspercream. Or arnica gel/cream. Literally any muscle rub is going to help. I recommend icy hot bc then you're too distracted by the simultaneous hot/cold experience to notice more pain usually.

Tips for if you medicate (I'm not a doctor, so this is from personal experience, please don't sue me): if you're using ibuprofen, don't take more than 1200mg a day. Check your dosages on your bottle. If you've got 200mg tablets, that means only 6 tablets a day, and i recommend spreading them out as far as you can. Before i saw my rheumatologist, i took 600mg in the morning, and 600 mg in the evening. I tried to space them out about 12 hours apart. If you only need a medium dose at a time, try 400mg per dose. If that's wearing off faster than every 12 hours, try 400mg every 8 hours. Ibuprofen can crap out your kidneys, so please be careful about how much you take. My rule of thumb is if I can't remember if I took it or not, then i have to assume i took it and suffer through the pain, even if I'm 75% sure i didn't take it.

Medication tips continued (again please don't sue me): if you're taking Tylenol/acetaminophen, then please be careful still. Tylenol can crap out your liver, and you only have one of those, even if it can regenerate. The maximum dose i would take as an adult (and some of this is based off age, some of its based off height and weight, so check your bottle) is 1000mg. And I'd take that every 8 hours as needed. (personally Tylenol didn't work for me, so i only took it if I felt like i was dying.)

If you don't want to take medications, that's valid and based. My dudes medication sucks more than a prostitute, and that's bc you've got to remember when you took it.

Another medication tip. If you're running on a 10-12 hours in between doses (or 8 hours between doses even) write down the time you took your last medication on a whiteboard, sticky note, your phone, anywhere you might remember it. This is important for the days when you're laying there in immense amounts of pain and have called out from work bc standing hurts. You can then confirm if you've taken your meds or not.

If it gets unbearable, keep in mind: pain isn't normal. Go schedule an appointment with your doctor, or go to the urgent care or emergency room. I understand that insurance sucks, and that you may not have good insurance, but trust me if you can bring yourself to go to the doctor, it's better to do it now than to wait until you literally can't move. I have a friend who ended up getting surgery for a hernia to solve his back pain, while i got referred out to a rheumatologist, so there are many different solutions and not all of the reasons behind back pain are directly tied to your back.

Another note about doctors: i have found that they are quite concerned about back pain in younger people, especially if you have a job that means you can't account for back pain. I was really surprised my primary doctor wanted to run blood tests when I first told her about my back pain. VERY surprised. My parental unit and i both had questionable experiences with the doctor before, and my other parental unit worked in healthcare so i knew that doctors were very busy, and sometimes wouldn't always catch everything that the nurses or aides would catch. I had expected to have to insist that something was wrong, and instead was told "I'm ordering a set of labs, just show up to the outpatient lab at the hospital and they'll take your blood and send you on your way." Doctors do listen. I promise there are good ones that will listen to you, and won't just discount your pain for something else.

Okay babes that's all for now. Pls don't kill your backs and pls be gentle to yourselves.

[maatryoshkaa]

young god | chapter 5

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 |

word count: 3.1k

warnings: descriptions of violence

description: yang jeongin’s body is found outside glow cafe. when you arrive at work, you’re met with a stunned hyunjin and an anxious felix, alongside police captain kim woojin, detective bang chan, prosecutor kim seungmin, and medical examiner lee minho. miroh heights is shaken, and a killer is on the prowl.

watch the trailer here!

Somewhere, far, far away, someone was speaking. That much, Jisung knew. Maybe it was just another stray thought prickling at the back of his mind. Maybe it was the wind, nipping at the treetops above him. It was like he was underwater -- sinking, sinking, sinking, the voice muffled and distorted.

“...kay over there?”

His breath was leaving him in rough, jagged puffs, chest tightened and heaving. His palms were hot and sticky with blood, the ground was spinning beneath his feet; all the surroundings were melting together into one, dark, incomprehensible mass.

“...can call an ambulance. What hap--”

Jisung reared around, eyes wild. For a split second, he caught sight of a face. A younger boy. Kind, crescent-shaped eyes, and a cherub’s cheeks. He knew this boy. Somewhere, somehow. A memory tickled the back of his mind, a feeble warning.

Feeling worlds away, Jisung watched the boy fall to the ground, and black flooded Jisung’s vision again.

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Jeongin felt his legs give way, eyes rolling up to the sky. Above him, the moon was a lopsided pearl. He felt his heartbeat in his head, throbbing, pounding, splitting; something wet and warm was trickling into his eyes and making them burn.

His eyes were shifting in and out of focus like a broken camera shutter, and when they focused again, the moon disappeared and was replaced by a face -- just as pale, just as cold. Just as beautiful. 

A voice in the back of Jeongin’s head asked weakly if this was what an angel looked like. 

But this boy’s eyes were as wide and dark as craters, glassy and vacant as if he were staring straight through him. As if he couldn’t really see Jeongin at all.

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A boy. It was a boy lying at his feet, blond hair matted with blood pouring from an open wound. A wound that, even though he had no recollection, Jisung knew he caused. Jisung’s feet were rooted to the ground, frozen between the young boy and the mangled corpse. As if he were guarding the threshold between life and death.

Jisung wrenched his feet from their place and peered into the boy’s widened eyes, and all of a sudden the world rushed into focus.

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Jeongin’s eyelids were heavy, so, so heavy, and he wanted nothing more than to simply curl into a small ball on the cool leaves and fall into a deep, deep sleep.

He felt foreign hands fly to his chest, pulling at his sweater, touching his face. Through sluggish, half-closed eyes, he looked to see the same boy, this time eyes wild and frantic and human. A voice was speaking, as muffled as the mumbling of a broken record.

“Who--why? Why is it you? Why are you here?”

Jeongin wanted to say something, to tell the older boy not to cry, that it was okay, but his mouth wouldn’t budge. As his eyes finally closed, Jeongin found himself faintly wondering who would feed the stray puppy when the morning came.

────────

This was wrong. This was not supposed to happen. This was not part of the plan.

Jisung’s head spun, barely registering the pain when he dropped the bloodstained rock onto his foot, staring instead at the unconscious delivery boy before him.

Yang Jeongin was not supposed to get hurt.

His hands flew to the boy’s neck and nostrils, feeling for a pulse, a breath, anything. After what seemed like an eternity, he felt it -- weak and wavering, but a heartbeat beneath the skin. Jisung’s eyes darted from the forest to the playground.

The main road.

Arms wrapping around the younger boy’s limp body, Jisung lifted him up and began limping out of the forest, stopping only when he had crossed the empty street and reached the darkened storefronts. Setting him down as gently as he could, Jisung’s eyes wandered to the wound blooming from the side of Jeongin’s head. 

It was shallower than he’d thought. The boy had a chance.

He should kill him. They would question him if he lived, and then everyone would know. They would find out about him. 

Jisung’s fingers ticked. He had killed with his bare hands before.

Jisung’s eyes flickered from the boy to his hands, then back to the boy, and lunged.

But instead of the boy’s throat, his fingers reached to frantically push the button for the nearest shop’s doorbell before Jisung took off running, stunned by his own actions, back across the street, through the playground, into the Yellow Wood. 

Out of the corner of his eye -- when Jisung passed the man’s body, passed the delivery boy’s abandoned bicycle -- he caught a glimpse of the stray dog from earlier. Scraggly and dirty, dark glittering eyes watching him. Jisung tore his gaze away.

Jisung only realized he was crying once he reached his apartment, when his tears had washed away the thick, metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

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Hwang Hyunjin jolted out of sleep at the sound of the doorbell. He groaned and rolled over in his bed, burying his head under his pillow to muffle the ringing. A prank, or, more likely, some student drunk out of their mind and wandering the main street.

Screwing his eyes shut, Hyunjin tried to fall back asleep, but ended up tossing and turning for the next few hours, the piercing ringtone having chased sleep away. He was a light sleeper, after all.

Hyunjin cursed and swung his legs over the bed, making sure not to wake his sleeping grandmother in the other room as he threw on pants and made his way down to the cafe. The sky was still dark, the tables and chairs casting long shadows along the tiled floor. His eyes flicked to the clock. 4 A.M. Maybe he would set up shop early, and go back to sleep behind the counter until you came in for work.

Hyunjin pushed on the glass doors to prop them open. And that was when he saw him.

“Jeongin?”

Hyunjin recognised him instantly. The hoodie and jeans that were a few sizes too big, the blond mop of hair he loved to ruffle, but something was horribly, horribly wrong.

For one, his signature bike was nowhere to be seen. But what sent Hyunjin’s falling to his knees, heart plummeting straight to his gut, was the dark pool of blood formed around Jeongin’s head. 

“J-Jeongin? Jeongin, can you hear me? Jeongin, please--”

Feeling like his legs had turned to jello, Hyunjin scrambled for the payphone outside the cafe, fingers shaking violently as he punched in three numbers, never tearing his eyes off of his younger friend.

“911, what is the nature of your emergency?” 

“I found--there’s--there’s a kid on the street--he’s b-bleeding real bad--” 

“Is he conscious?”

Hyunjin’s eyes wavered, forcing his voice to stay steady. “N-no, he doesn’t seem to be conscious.”

“Can you identify him, sir?”

At this, Hyunjin felt a sob burn in his throat and shoved it down. “Y-yeah. Yeah, everyone knows him -- it’s Yang Jeongin, the delivery boy.”

He barely heard the dispatcher’s response, something about sending an ambulance and officers as soon as possible and to remain calm. Feeling as though he were trapped in a nightmare, Hyunjin huddled over Jeongin’s body, looking up only when he heard the wail of sirens approaching. Even when the ambulance and police arrived, Hyunjin couldn’t bring himself to move from Jeongin’s side, hands trying to warm the younger boy’s bled-out, cold ones.

“He’s a kid--just a kid. Please, I’m begging you, save him.”

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You came to work expecting the usual -- a horde of sleep-deprived students and professors queuing up for their daily dose of caffeine -- and instead got a near-empty Glow Cafe surrounded by police cars and patrol officers.

Inside, most of the chairs were still stacked on the tables, a Closed sign hanging at the door. You’d never seen Hyunjin so shaken. The barista only acknowledged you with a slow, silent nod, eyes busy staring out the window. Watching him worriedly from the side was Felix, sat tapping his fingers anxiously on an empty glass. He looked relieved when you arrived, pulling out a chair for you behind the counter.

What happened? You mouthed to your best friend, who bit his lip before leaning closer and replying.

“It’s Jeongin. Hyunjin found him outside the cafe this morning, unconscious and bleeding from his head real bad. Nobody knows why.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Hyunjin’s fingers tighten their grip on the counter, knuckles turning white.

Your eyes widened in shock. Jeongin? You mouthed, and Felix nodded, sighing. A camera hung from his neck, turned off; his notebook and pen were abandoned on a nearby table. That was what you respected about Felix -- even though he was the school photographer and one of the best journalists on the campus paper, he was also one of the most genuine people you knew -- never pushing moral boundaries for the sake of a big story. That was probably why he was by Hyunjin’s side right now, instead of outside pestering police for information.

The door swung open, making you look up. Two men, one in a black police uniform and the other wearing a grey suit jacket, walked up to the counter. Both looked equally grim.

Felix cleared his throat. “Y/N, meet the police captain and the lead prosecutor.”

The older one, the police captain, shook your hand. “Kim Woojin,” he said, nodding. He looked much younger than you’d expect any police captain to be -- late twenties, at most. Still, the hard set in his jaw gave you the feeling that he’d seen his fair share of heinous crimes.

The other, younger man smiled at you politely. “I’m Kim Seungmin.” Everything, from the tone in his words to the suit jacket he wore was clean and orderly. In his hands were a cup of lukewarm, undrunk coffee.

You nodded slowly, head still spinning from the news Felix had just broken. “Does...does the police captain usually come to the crime scene?” You couldn’t help asking. His presence -- not to mention the prosecutor’s -- seemed to make the whole situation seem even more serious. 

“Not usually,” Woojin admitted, “but we’ve been getting reports of similar incidents as of late. There is enough evidence to suggest that Yang Jeongin’s attack is linked to several other ones from this month.”

Linked to other attacks. “So, like...a serial killer?” Felix’s voice was dubious, but the words hung heavily in the air and made you shiver.

The police captain nodded grimly. “It’s still being investigated as we speak, but -- and I truly regret to say this -- there has been a sharp increase in homicides near Miroh Heights as of late. The correlations are too suspicious to ignore.”

Your thoughts flashed to the newspaper Jeongin had delivered just yesterday. Murder at Miroh Heights. The burnt-down flat, one prostitute dead. But what connection did Yang Jeongin, neighborhood delivery-boy, everyone’s favourite face to glimpse in the morning, have with a hooker from the outskirts of campus?

The door burst open again, breaking the heavy silence to reveal a pale man, curly blond hair tousled from running, the top buttons of his white dress shirt undone. He looked around the cafe wildly before his eyes landed on the counter. “Woojin!”

“Chan,” Woojin replied, raising an eyebrow. “Any news?”

Chan exhaled, running his fingers through his hair. “I’ve sent my team to ask everyone around the area, but so far no one was around when it happened. We’ve just finished taking photographs and the rough sketches. Not much evidence to bag -- I’m betting most of it’s on the boy, ‘specially his clothing, but we’ll need to wait ‘till he’s in a stable condition before we proceed.”Chan turned to you, Felix, and Hyunjin, outstretching a hand and a warm smile. “I’m Detective Bang Chan, but just Chan is fine.”

“Y-Y/N,” you barely manage to get out, still overwhelmed by the rush of information. “This is Felix, Hyunjin.”

Chan nodded briefly before turning back towards Woojin and Seungmin. “Also, Minho found another dead body.”

Both Woojin and Hyunjin’s heads snapped up. The police captain looked like he was about to strangle the detective. “Perhaps that would have been a good thing to mention first, Detective Bang?”

Chan only flashed Woojin a wide, winning smile before cocking his head towards the door. “You wanted news, I gave you the news. Anyways, they need you on scene ASAP.”

Woojin sent Chan a withering look before glancing at you, Felix, and Hyunjin, who had gotten up from behind the counter. “Are you sure you want to come? I understand your concern, but--”

“We won’t get in the way of anything,” Hyunjin blurted suddenly, speaking up for the first time since you’d arrived. “I just--I need to know what happened. If it’s connected to my friend. Please.”

Woojin looked warily from Hyunjin’s face to you and Felix’s, before sighing. “Alright, but be...prepared. For what you might see.” 

With that, he turned, speaking quietly to Chan as Seungmin gently nudged you towards the door of the cafe. Outside, the sun was almost uncomfortably bright, a jarring contrast to the bleak crime scene around you. As you ducked under the police tape to cross the main road, your eyes lingered on the dried pool of blood staining the cobblestones, the outline of a body scrawled with white chalk. Only hours before, it was Jeongin’s body that had lain there. A cold chill trickled down your spine, and you tore your gaze away.

Chan was heading for the Yellow Wood, you realized -- weaving through the playground, down the winding park trails and into the forest. It wasn’t difficult to guess where the supposed body was -- a crowd had already formed around a tall oak tree, hushed murmurs and sounds of disgust filling the air.

You hadn’t realised you’d been holding your breath until you caught sight of a man -- the coroner, you guessed, judging from his all-white uniform, gloves, and shoe covers -- zipping up a black body bag. When he shifted to the side, you caught a glimpse of gleaming white skull encrusted with decaying flesh before it disappeared behind the body bag’s zipper. Feeling your stomach flip, you looked away -- straight into the eyes of a very familiar boy.

“Jisung?” 

It probably wasn’t unusual to see another student crowded around the body, as most of the crowd were curious university residents stopped on their way to class -- but unlike the rest of them, Jisung was inside the yellow police tape, beside the coroner.

His wide eyes filled with surprise before crinkling into a bright smile. He waved, and you heard Chan raising his voice behind you.

“Alright, clear off everybody; move away from the crime scene, please.” He turned to you. “I’m not going to make you leave, but there isn’t much to see. They finished up pretty quickly. As for you, Hwang Hyunjin--” he looked at the barista, whose jaw was clenched tight, narrow eyes staring at the black body bag. “Go take the day off or somethin’, you look horrible.” The detective clapped him on the back before diving into the crowd, ducking under the police tape.

Felix put a firm hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder. “He’s right, you know. Go back to sleep, you’ve been up since 4.” When the taller boy didn’t budge, Felix gently turned him away. “C’mon, ‘jin. They need to preserve the scene, we’ll be no help anyways.”

Even though you were filled with questions and burning curiosity, you knew Felix was right, and let the crowd of students dispersing push you out of the Yellow Wood. Momentarily looking back, you were startled to see Jisung’s eyes still on you, before his face finally disappeared behind the throngs of trees and people.

────────

Jisung looked back down at the spot where the body had been. Behind him, a couple of officers were helping Minho lift the body bag into the morgue van. Your eyes were burned into his mind, the look of surprise and confusion on your face when you had made eye contact. He shook his head. There was no way you suspected him, right? Nobody suspected him. He would explain this all later. It would all be okay. It was all under control.

“Who are you?” He looked up into the face of Kim Woojin -- the police captain, he supposed, from the uniform and the way the older man carried himself. “If you aren’t an investigating officer, I’m afraid--”

Chan put a hand on the captain’s arm. “Relax, Woojin. This is Han Jisung, health sciences kid. We went to the same high school. All right, ‘sung?” 

Jisung smiled. “Long time no see, Chan.”

Woojin frowned. “But why is he--”

“I let him in,” the coroner interrupted -- Lee Minho, medical examiner. “He’s a medical student, after all. Loads of Miroh’s health sciences majors go into our field, so I thought letting him watch close-up wouldn’t hurt. He didn’t touch anything.”

Woojin rubbed his forehead as if he had a pounding headache, but nodded at Jisung. “Alright, it’s nice to meet you. Minho, what’s your take on the scene?”

Minho removed his gloves. “Both the victim we found at this site and Mr. Yang had severe signs of trauma to the head. I’m guessing the man found here died between midnight and 3 A.M., but it’s hard to tell if the coldness of his body is due to rigor mortis, or the sheer amount of blood loss. Mr. Yang was found at around 4 A.M., so it’s very likely that the two attacks are connected. No weapon nor DNA was found -- traces of footprints, fingerprints, et cetera. We’ll need to thoroughly examine the body for sure, but the murder weapon is most likely a crowbar or hammer. I’ll send the rest of the files when I get back to the lab. We’re working against a meticulous killer, Captain Kim.”

“I see. Thank you, Minho.” He turned towards the officers. “Back to headquarters, everyone. Detective Bang, meet me in my office -- we have a serial killer case on our hands.”

When the police and forensics departments had driven off, Jisung turned to Minho. The coroner was staring at the ground -- examining the area the body had been lying on, or lost deep in thought, Jisung couldn’t tell.

He cleared his throat. “So. Crowbar or hammer, huh?”

Minho didn’t look up. “It’s easier to believe than a rock, anyways. It’s disposed of already, by the way. Your fingerprints are as good as gone. Footprints, too.” He cocked his head in the direction of Glow Cafe. “Can’t do anything about that boy, though, I’m afraid.”

Jisung shook his head. “It’s--it’s fine. He wasn’t supposed to--” he broke off, steadying himself. “And the man’s body?”

“Practically unidentifiable. It’s an easy cold case.” Minho slammed the door of the morgue van shut. “Another mystery that leaves the police--and yours truly--baffled.” 

“Thanks, Minho.”

The coroner didn’t look him in the eye as he started the van. A small smile pulled at his lips, but there was no trace of humour. 

“You always seem to forget, Han Jisung. I’ve been doing this for thirteen years.”

[joonie-beanie]

Oh, Baby (Bonus 1)

[Pt 1] [Pt 2] [Pt 3] [Pt 4] [Pt 5] [Pt 6] [Pt 7] [Pt 8] [Pt 9] [Pt 10] [Pt 11] [Pt 12] [Pt 13] [Pt 14] [Pt 15] [Pt 16] [Pt 17] [Pt 18] [Pt 19] [Pt 20]

A/N: Surprise, surprise!! I bet no one was expecting this. Recently, as I try to get back into writing, I’ve found myself becoming interested in my old fics/AUs. So, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to just have some fun and write whatever lol. So, here we are. (It’s not smut, sorry to disappoint).

Words: 4,085

You’re not sure how—after all this time—you’d managed to get yourself into trouble yet again. Well, actually, dating a man who makes his living in illegal ways likely has something to do with it, but still. For nearly a year now nothing out of the ordinary has happened. No enemies, no kidnappings—sure, there’s a small squabble on the side and maybe a few injuries, but that’s to be expected. Not everything can go smoothly 100% of the time.

But you suppose today is the day that all that good luck and peaceful living comes back to bite you in the ass.

“Does Namjoon not feed you, or what?” Jimin asks as you pull the door to Namjoon’s apartment open, mouth watering at the sight of the greasy McDonald’s bag in his grasp.

“Listen,” you start, and Jimin’s already rolling his eyes, breezing past you into the apartment. You shut the door behind him, continuing, “The man barely cooks. So, I live on microwave meals, room service, or whatever I can make from the groceries we have. And right now we really don’t have any.”

“So? Go grocery shopping,” Jimin responds smartly, and you pout at him.

“You really hate seeing me that much, huh?”

He laughs a little, posing a hand on his hip as he turns to face you.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

“Why Jimin, it sounds like you’re almost admitting that you’re fond of me,” you tease, walking over to where he’s set the bag of food down on the kitchen counter. You rummage around inside, handing him is own burger and fries, and he watches you in amusement.

It’s amazing how you’ve managed to become close since the incident with Jaehyuk last year. But then again, you seem to have the power to become friends with any soul that crosses your path.

“I will neither confirm nor deny that,” he finally responds, taking his food and meandering over to the couches. You roll your eyes, grabbing your own meal and following after him.

Ever since Namjoon’s partnership with Jeon Enterprises, Jimin has been helping out—gathering information and scouting locations around the country to see which are the safest to do business. Therefore, he’s on the road a lot. He comes and goes—usually only staying in the city for a few days—just enough time to report to Namjoon, sleep in his own bed, and spend a night with Yoongi. Sometimes he gets lucky and gets a whole week off—when business is slow and shipments aren’t really scheduled to come in.

Currently, it’s one of those slow times. So, in an excuse to see him, you’d asked him to bring you food. When Jimin had gotten your text half an hour ago he had figured as much, but with so much free time on his hands, he figured that getting to spend some of it with you would be a nice change.

“So, how’s Kook?” he asks as you turn on the TV in the background.

“Good,” you reply after a moment, swallowing a clump of fries. “He’s set to graduate at the end of this semester, same as me. With Junhyun in charge it looks like he’ll end up actually taking part in the family business.”

“I figured as much,” Jimin says, taking a big bite out of his burger. “Good on him, though. And you?”

“Well…,” you pause considerately, eyes moving to stare at the ceiling. “I mean…I’m actually having a good time relaying information to you guys and helping to keep everything going smooth, so…I’ve kind of considered just doing that.”

“But?” Jimin pipes up, knowing that at the very least Namjoon must have an opinion on your interest in that kind of career.

You sigh. “Namjoon is worried about it, like always. He doesn’t want me to waste my life helping him, and starts to get all self-depreciative, like he’s tainting my life with sin, and ugh.” You throw your hands in the air and Jimin smiles a little, understanding. “I just wish he would stop worrying. I’m not leaving him and if I’m gonna date him it’s not like I can be totally separated from his work anyway, right?”

“Right,” Jimin agrees.

“So…yeah,” you finish, not sure what else to say, and Jimin breathes a laugh.

“Just tell him that you’re going to become a stripper if you can’t keep your job helping him. Then you’re guaranteed the position for life.”

You snort at that, nearly choking on your drink, which only makes Jimin laugh more. In that moment, everything in life seems right. You, and Jimin, sitting in Namjoon’s downtown apartment eating McDonald’s together while both of your boyfriends are out at a meeting.

I mean, what could possibly go wrong?

Knock Knock Knock

You and Jimin glance at each other. He cocks an eyebrow.

“You expecting someone?”

“No, but maybe Namjoon accidentally overlapped two meetings or something,” you say with a sigh, jumping off the couch and starting towards the door. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Jimin watches you go with a shrug, running a hand through his platinum blond hair. He has faith that you’ll work it out with whoever is at the door.

He hears you unlock the door and pull the handle open, however, even after a few seconds you don’t speak. There’s just…silence.

Frowning, Jimin takes a long sip of his drink and then turns to look at the front door, only to be met with the barrel of a gun. Immediately his eyes widen, eyes darting past the gunman to glance at you, who is currently being held with a knife to your neck by a second man.

There’s a look of shock mixed in with the fear on your face, like you can’t believe that after so long something like this is happening yet again.

“Kim Namjoon,” the male with the gun to Jimin’s head speaks up, and Jimin’s eyebrows furrow.

“I’m not—”

“Shut up!” the gunman yells, roughly pressing the weapon against Jimin’s forehead, and he winces. “Our boss wants you and your girl to come with us. Don’t resist.”

Boss? Jimin thinks to himself, trying to remember if there had been any indication of enemies on Namjoon’s radar as of late. He can’t think of any off the top of his head, which bothers him.

“What do you want from us?” he questions instead, meeting stares with the male in front of him. He looks easy enough to take out. If Jimin was alone he would have already disarmed the guy, but…his eyes shift back to you. With you here, he can’t risk it. Especially not when he’s unarmed.

Dammit, he knew he should’ve brought his gun. He’d been getting lax lately, in these peaceful times…

“That’s for us to know, and you to find out. Get up,” he demands, reaching forward and yanking at Jimin’s collar. His movements are sloppy and unpracticed—like he’s never done anything like this before. In fact, if Jimin looks closer, neither of the men look too sharp. They actually look a little scared at their own actions.

Huh, he wonders, allowing the male to push him towards you. Newbie gang members? Maybe fresh blood had managed to sneak under his radar. That would explain why they have no idea he’s not even Namjoon…

“Hey,” he says quietly as the two gunman force you to exit the apartment. You’re at his side, one of the men pausing to press the button for the elevator. You glance over at Jimin, bottom lip caught between your teeth, and he smiles.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

You blink, and for some reason a wave of calm washes over you. You’ve been through worse trials than this before, and with Jimin here, you don’t doubt his words. You know that he’ll be able to protect the both of you, he just can’t at the moment—the two had caught you too off-guard.

Gun and knife still being held against you both, you allow the two men to lead you down to the parking lot. A black car with tinted windows is waiting, and they secure both of your hands with ungodly amounts of duct tape before shoving you into the backseat. You’re quiet during the ride, not sure what to say and not wanting to risk further harm by saying anything you shouldn’t, and eventually the car comes to a stop.

Before you is a dilapidated shipping yard, with not a soul in sight. As the two men haul you and Jimin out of the car, the cold winter air chills your skin, and you shiver. You hadn’t noticed it before, since you’d been in the parking garage, but it is the brunt of winter right now. If you stay in the cold too long, especially without proper clothing (and of course they hadn’t let you grab a jacket), then you’ll likely freeze.

“C’mon,” one of the men barks, but there’s little threat in his tone. You feel bad for Jimin, because if it wasn’t for you, you’re sure he would have fought his way out of this predicament by now.

Obediently, you allow the men to drag you into a nearby warehouse, and the unmoving cold air immediately begins to bleed into your clothing—sapping all of your body heat. Jimin notices you shiver and frowns. He’s uncomfortable as well, but he’s used to being in shitty predicaments like this. It comes with the job.

Silently, he moves a few inches closer to you.

“In here,” the other man speaks, the muscles in his arms bulging as he hefts open a heavy metal door. Inside is a small room, illuminated with just a single, flickering light. There’s a worn down table in the center, and a tattered blanket against the back wall.

“You’ll stay here for the time being,” the same gang member speaks as the other disappears behind him. “Our boss has asked us to keep you here until he can get to you later. He also…had a request.”

“To make you uncomfortable,” the other chimes in, and appears in the doorway once more. In his hand is a hose. Your and Jimin’s eyes widen in surprise, because there’s not fucking way they’re going to—right? But there’s nothing you can do. The hose is turned on, and in a split second you’re dosed in a spray of ice cold water.

A high pitched gasp leaves your lips as shock settles in, and while the water isn’t on for more than a few seconds, it’s enough to turn your skin numb.

“Enjoy your time together, love birds.”

And with that, the door is shut with a heavy clang, and you and Jimin are left alone—shivering.

“What the fuck,” Jimin hisses once they’re gone, hurriedly looking around and then darting to the back wall to grab the blanket. It’s tattered and dirty, but at least it’s thick.

Slowly, he turns to look at you. His eyes rake over your soaked clothes, sticking to you, and notes that your lips are already starting to turn blue.

He breathes a long, long sigh.

“I need you….to take your clothes off.”

You speak through chattering teeth.

“What?”

“This is our best bet at staying warm. We need to strip out of our clothes as soon as we can and huddle for warmth. I don’t think it’ll be long before Namjoon or Yoongi comes to get us, but I don’t want to risk—”

“W-What do y-you mean? T-They k-know we’re gone?”

Jimin holds up his hand. His middle finger is hugged by a black ring. On the top there’s a red light flickering.

“Namjoon gave one of these to all his closest subordinates—me, Yoongi, Tae, etc. It’s an emergency trackers, so that if something happens and we can press it, and it will send everyone in his inner circle a signal and a GPS location. I pressed it as when we were riding the elevator down to the lot, before they taped our wrists together.”

“God, I love you,” you say, albeit your deteriorating condition. “But h-how am I supposed to undress with my wrists b-bound like this?”

“Hold on,” Jimin responds, and heads to the table in the center of the room. He kicks it onto the floor, and then positions his wrists against the corner. Standing on the table to make sure it doesn’t go anywhere, he steels himself and pulls upward with all his strength.

There’s a ripping sound, and the duct tape on his wrists splits up the middle.

“Fuck that hurt,” he says, rubbing his chilled skin as he pulls the remainder of the tape off. He then makes his way over to you, grabbing your wrists and bringing them to his mouth. He creates a tear in the tap with his teeth, and frees you of your bindings carefully, trying not to hurt you.

Soon enough, you’re both free. Jimin still looks a bit perplexed at the situation, however. What is he gonna do if Namjoon walks in and sees the both of you huddled together for warmth? Sure, Jimin has gained Namjoon’s trust, but…

You roll your eyes, shaking in your boots. You don’t have time for this.

“Jimin, get undressed, and wrap yourself in the blanket. Once you’re situated, I’ll do the same.”

“I…okay,” he responds, and immediately starts to shuck his shirt off. A small part of him feels pride at you taking control of the situation. You’ve definitely gotten more commanding since you’ve begun helping Namjoon with his work.

It doesn’t take long for Jimin to shed his clothes, and he’s quick to grab the blanket. He moves the upside-down table to the wall, and then seats himself atop it—figuring sitting on the wood is better than sitting on the frozen concrete.

“Okay,” he says, and when you move to pull your top off Jimin immediately looks away. He averts his eyes to the ceiling, and if his lips weren’t cracking from the cold, he’d probably whistle a tune to make himself feel less awkward.

“Okay,” you say quietly in the background, and Jimin hears quick footsteps coming towards him.  The blanket he had draped over the front of his torso is lifted, and he stills in shock when you straddle his lap—your chests pressing together as you wrap the blanket tightly around you both.

“Oh my god,” he says. You sputter.

“What?? I thought this would give us the most skin contact! I’m trying to get warm!”

“Okay—but like—the position—,” Jimin stutters, seriously about to lose his mind. Sure, he’s done a lot of things with taken women before, but you’re way different. You’re like…his sister, practically.

“If you manage to get a boner is this cold I’ll be amazed,” you simply respond, and hug him tight. At that, Jimin finally seems to relax a little—breathing a laugh.

“I don’t know. Think Yoongi would be into a foursome?”

At that, you full out cackle. Sure, you’re still freezing, and scared, but you appreciate the conversation. With Jimin’s reassurance that the others know you’re in trouble and know where to find you, you feel a bit more at ease.

“Yoongi doesn’t exactly seem like the type. And as much as I’d love to see what you two are like as lovers, I think Namjoon would commit double homicide before that happened.”

“What a shame,” Jimin responds with fake disappointment, grinning a little.

“Right?” you respond, snickering. “Seriously though, you’re supposed to be Namjoon right now, right? Or at least they think you are, for some silly reason.”

“Silly indeed—I’m much more handsome—”

You smack his shoulder, and Jimin laughs.

“Like I was saying—they think you’re Namjoon, and we’re on the topic, so…what are you like as lover, Jimin?”

Jimin pauses, his eyes shifting to the side to look at you curiously.

“Are you asking about my kinks, or what?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” you respond, pouting a little. “Or like…I mean…in bed…do you kinda, like…” All of the sudden you feel embarrassed by your own question, and Jimin giggles.

“Well, I’m definitely not vanilla. I tend to like giving and receiving marks—I like BDSM stuff, just like everybody else. And I tend to be switch, or verse, whatever the kids call it—”

“Wait, even with Yoongi?” you interrupt him, pulling back to look him in the eye. Jimin desperately avoids looking down at the open space between your chests. However, you hardly notice his inner predicament, focused on the idea that—

“Does Yoongi bottom??”

It seems impossible. That Yoongi—who tends to be stoic and serious—who in your mind you see as a man of power, just like Namjoon—would…bottom.

Jimin reaches forward and squishes your cheeks between his palms. “Do not tell him I told you any of this or he will cut my dick off.”

“What? There’s nothing wrong with bottoming!” you respond, and Jimin just sighs.

“I know, but you know Yoongi. Think about how he’d react if you went up and told him that I’d let it slip that sometimes I’m the top, and not him. He’s got such a stick up his ass about dominant and submissive roles sometimes, I swear…”

“Well, I won’t say anything,” you promise, allowing Jimin to guide you back into a hug. Not only was it getting cold with you leaned away from him, but he also really needed you to not give Namjoon anymore reasons to murder him.

“So,” Jimin speaks up again after a minute, and you can hear the excitement in his voice. “What about you and Namjoon? Put a dildo in his butt yet?”

“Jimin!” you hiss, slapping his shoulder once more.

“Okay, okay, but seriously! What’s it like? You can’t just ask me about my sex life and not expect me to return the favor.”

“I mean, I guess…,” you mumble, pouting, and Jimin patiently waits for you to continue. “Well…like you said, it tends not to be vanilla. Obviously we have softer times, but as I’m sure you can guess Namjoon loves being dominant.”

“And I’d assume you’re more than happy to let him explore that role,” Jimin pipes up, sounding a little cheeky, and you huff.

“I mean…yes. But…sometimes I can take over.”

“Really?” Jimin asks, genuine surprise in his voice. “Kim Namjoon lets his girlfriend take over in the bedroom?”

“I mean it’s not like I go full dominant but I can take the reins from time to time,” you say proudly. “It’s a good ego booster, getting the boss of a mafia group to beg.”

“…and suddenly there’s some imagery in my head that I didn’t need to see,” Jimin groans, his forehead knocking against your shoulder. You laugh.

“Hey! You’re the one who asked me about our sex life!”

“And I regret it already,” he responds, breathing a laugh. You hum thoughtfully.

“What? Do you wanna think about what our sex life would be like instead? If I had been turned on by you touching me when we first met, who knows what could have happened.”

“Oh god…fuck I did that, didn’t I?” Jimin says, sounding horrified at his own actions from the past. You shake your head.

“Yeah, but don’t start feeling guilty about it now. We’re fine, Jimin,” you assure him. He hums in response, acknowledging your forgiveness but not knowing what to say. Then, after a minute, he finally speaks up.

“To answer your question though—even though they think I’m Namjoon, I promise you I’m a much better lover—”

“Jimin!!” you smack his shoulder one final time, and the male breaks into a fit of laughter. You find yourself giggling as well, unable to deal with his stupid remarks (even if you do kind of love them).

Thankfully, before either of you can say anything else that might make your boyfriends mad, a metal door loudly creaks in the distance. Shouting quickly ensues, but after a few seconds there’s silence. You and Jimin both keep your attention on the door to the room.

“Think it’s them?” you ask, and Jimin nods.

“Well, I sure hope so. My ass in numb.”

You roll your eyes at him. Jimin just grins.

Finally, after another minute there’s the sound of a lock clicking open, and the door to the small room you and Jimin have been trapped in is hauled open.

Namjoon and Yoongi appear in the doorway. Immediately their eyes flit to the both of you—huddled together, and totally naked. They both tense. You and Jimin glance at each other.

“Uhhh,” Jimin begins, clearly starting to get nervous—seeing that both his boyfriend and boss are…scarily quiet. “We got sprayed with water?”

“This is the only way would could think to stay warm and not get frostbite,” you quickly add in, shooting Namjoon a pleading look. You really don’t want him getting mad at Jimin for this shitty situation.

After a few moments, both Yoongi and Namjoon sigh. Namjoon begins to peel off his long dress coat. Yoongi poses a hand on his hip, looking you both over again. His brows are still furrowed with worry.

“You’re not hurt? Either of you?”

“No,” you reassure him, smiling a little, and his eyes soften.  

“Good. Those two didn’t seem very competent anyway,” he says, throwing a thumb over his shoulder back towards the entrance.

“I thought the same,” Jimin says, averting his eyes to the side as Namjoon steps towards the both of you, coat in his hands—ready and waiting. Quickly, you open the blanket and detach yourself from Jimin—and said male continues talking to distract himself.

“I couldn’t figure out who they’re working for, but I figure it must be someone new to the scene, considering most others tend to keep their distance.”

“We’ll figure it out later, and give them the proper retribution,” Namjoon pipes up, pulling you into a tight hug. His coat nearly reaches your feet, and is already warm thanks to his body heat. You sigh blissfully.

“For now, can we just get somewhere that’s not freezing? My toes are starting to go numb.”

“Of course, babe,” Namjoon responds, kissing the top of your head. “I think we have a blanket or two in the car as well.”

He glances over to Yoongi for confirmation, and the male nods. Jimin is at his side now, still tightly wrapped in the dirty blanket.

“Pretty sure there’s something in the trunk.”

Happy with that answer, Namjoon wraps an arm around your shoulder and leads you back out into the open warehouse—Jimin and Yoongi following right behind. As you get close to the outer door, you spot the two men who had brought you here sprawled out on the ground, and wince. Namjoon gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“They’re just knocked out.”

You nod, grateful. You’ve seen enough dead bodies already—and would prefer to not see any more in your lifetime.

Stepping outside, you immediately spot Yoongi’s car nearby, and almost run to the heat it promises. You jump into the backseat while the other three detour around back and pop the trunk. Seconds later, Namjoon is scooting in the backseat alongside you. He drapes a blanket over you, and smiles when you snuggle close—trying to leech his warmth.

“You had me worried,” he whispers, lips pressing against the crown of your head.

“I had me worried too,” you respond, and he chuckles, giving you another kiss. Up front, Yoongi settles into the driver’s seat, and Jimin scoots in beside him. He’s got another blanket wrapped around him as well.

As Yoongi starts the car and pulls away from the warehouse, Namjoon speaks up again.

“I’m glad I got those trackers for everyone…you’re seriously both okay?”

“I’m fine,” you assure him, and up front Jimin hums.

“I’m fine too. Honestly the biggest blow was to my pride.”

Namjoon cocks an eyebrow. “Why is that?”

“They thought I was you the whole time,” Jimin responds, and shoots you a playful wink through the rear view mirror. “I told Y/N that I’m much more handsome, but she didn’t seem to buy it.”

Namjoon looks down at you, eyebrows raised in amusement. You blush.

“What? It’s true…”

Chuckling, Namjoon curls a finger under your chin and guides you into a soft kiss. You melt, body flooding with warmth.

“And that, my dear, is why you’re my favorite.”

[wuzzybear]

The Accidentals- A bad fucking week. part 1

A group of broke adults join a medical trial hoping for some easy cash but instead get a lot more than what they wanted. There is something bad at play and they need to work it out if they ever want to be normal, not that they were normal before.

 Laura walked in through the door of her shoddy apartment, the lights flickering on as she slumped down on her stained sofa, she wanted to order takeaway but knew she didn't have the money, life was way to expensive and this week had been a pile of horse shit if any one had been, her car was in the garage after it broke down a couple days ago, the bill was so high she would need to not eat for a month.  Before getting off shift today she had seen a family of five burn, only 2 getting out alive, a baby and the father.  She tried to not let her job get to her but fighting fires was the easiest part, watching the families as they realise that not everyone made it is the worst, you can feel the guilt in the air. We are trained to move on, you can't take every death personally or it kills you from the inside but whenever i see a family torn apart so abruptly the worry stays on my heart, seeing happy families destroyed was definitely the worst part of her job but laura still loved the job and everyone struggles with it so she just tries to leave the worry at work,but today it followed her home, there was just something about today, the fire had started in the oldest’s room, probably faulty electrics, she was barely out of primary school, just starting to think she was a grown up, it had already killed the middle kid by the time anyone realised and the mother just breathed in to much smoke, it was come and go for a bit but in the end she didn't even make it to the hospital. A happy family reduced to two, a morning father and a 2 month old girl, how she survived I don't know. All that innocence and such young lives torn away so quickly. 

 Laura stood up shaking her head, it's not good to stay focused on the bad things, noodles and beer and an early night and she can sort everything else out in the morning.She has parents she can beg for money,they won't be happy but they wont let her starve,she just wishes she didn't have to call.  For tonight she resigned herself to the sofa with a bottle of cheap beer and some veg noodles, strolling through the internet. Eventually the sun was long gone and the shame came creeping back, she was sitting here running from her responsibilities with beer, noodles and a blanket around her, just trying to hide away on the internet, she was a grown woman, an adult. She closed down Reddit and opened her emails, this was an adult thing, she could clear her inbox. Ad,ad,ad,scam,ad,ad, important thing she should of replied too, she was trying to be grown up but that was slightly too grown up, ad, bank statement, don't want to look at that, oh nice easy one, the unit chief is trying to set up a quiz night, he needs to know when i'm free, i can do that. After a couple minutes of checking her calendar, which was embarrassingly empty she had formed an adult but chill response. There! She had been an adult, she had written an email and deleted a few more. She scanned over the rest hoping they could wait a few more days until a quiet moment at work, one caught her eye, an email from a trial company, she did a couple of studies a few years back to get some extra cash and extra cash was just what she needed, she looked into it, it was a medical study looking into a mental health drug, they needed people with diagnosed mental illness so she knew she would fit right in. Drug trials were not her thing but the pay was pretty good, two injections a week, £50 each, it lasted 12 months but you could leave whenever, just under £5,000 for the whole year, she probably wouldn't hang on that long but long enough that she could fix her beat up Honda and still eat. Honestly how could she resist? The testing facility was a 15 minute walk away from the fire station as well. Fuck me if was perfect, no nagging from anyone about “being an adult” and “looking after your finances”. Laura finally went to bed that night, slightly tipsy, exhausted but slightly less stressed.

Laura had 2 days until she got paid and she had her first appointment for the trial today, it was a rolling study so there was no set start date. She had promised Steve, the mechanic down the road, that he would get paid the bill as soon as she got paid so that he would carry on working with no money upfront, to be honest he totally owned Laura one, she had set him up with an ex of hers about a year back and she had never seen him happier. She walked up to a little privately owned clinic that she had never noticed before, it was smart but felt way to clinical, the lights were so bright it burnt and like all of these places the smell of cleaner was so strong you could taste it, she popped her phone into the pocket of her oversized jacket as she came to the front desk, the lady at the desk looked he up and down, I suppose she didn't really look like she belonged, it didn't look like a cheap sort of place.” hi i'm here for the trial, umm.. Laura Burmwell” Laura muttered into the ground,she hated reception staff, they always seemed super judgy and this lady was no different, she tapped away at her screen for a few very awkward moments and sighed, pointing me to a section of chairs near the back. Pulling her earphones out she landed in a seat. 

“Don’t worry she wasn't very nice to me either” a voice chucked next to her, a small grinning woman sat there tapping on her phone, Laura smiled back, she was gorgeous, long black hair down to her waist, out shining Laura's dirty blonde mess any day.

 “I’m glad she doesn't just hate me” Lorna joked, internally panicking. Why is such a cute woman actually talking to me? She suddenly felt amazingly under dressed, she was sat next to a stunning women who was clearly ready to go to work in a nice yellow dress and a jacket and she is there look like a gay hobo, hair up in yesterdays bun and a t shirt that has dinosaurs on it, at she is wearing smartish jeans. “I’m Laura, are you here for the study?” she smiled. 

“Preet, yeah, i'm hoping they can cure the fuckery going on in my head before the end of it” she chuckled but I could see the blush forming over her skin as she processed what she had said, Laura just snorted, tapping her leg on the linoleum floor, trying to think of something to say, her mind in overdrive.

“Nervous?” Preet questioned.

 “i just haven't been in a drug trial for years, what if I grow four heads or something?” She joked, Preet actually burst out laughing, tears starting to form in her eyes, which got Laura laughing too, they just sat there trying to hide there laughter from the rest of the very serious looking members of the waiting room, finally after about 5 minutes they both calmed down enough to speak, laughter still glistening in their eyes.

“ but seriously these drugs will of been tested for years before it gets to these sorts of tests, its perfectly safe, they are just proving it and checking out side effects, I’m sure you wont grow any more heads.”  At that moment Preet’s name was called over the speaker system, Secretly both of them were hoping they had been forgotten about so they could sit here and chat all day but neither of them said it. 

“See you later Laura” Preet called as she picked up her stuff and started to follow the now waiting nurse. 

Lorna went back to her music, trying to pull a stupid grin off her face. 

1941- September 5th

I walked into surgery, on the bench was the patient, a young soldier, barley 19. He was burning up. Nurse Weber was standing there, trying to cool him down while setting up. He had a gun wound that was starting to get infected and the bullet had yet been removed. We set to work, removing infected tissue and finding bits of the shattered bullet but further we got the more futile it became, he kept losing blood and nothing we could do would keep his temperature down, he was pretty much dead in front of us. The nurse looked up, exhaustion in every wrinkle in her face, defeat in her eyes, I’m sure she had been on duty when he came on, over 10 hours earlier. With an air of defect  I started sawing him up, giving him a dose of penicillin and covering the wound with gauze. I doubt he would make the night but we had tried. I removed my bloodied gloves and left. Hoping to be able to rest now. My eyes started over at the dying children and men who fill the halls. when will the war end, when will the suffering stop, have not enough died for the righteous cause? I started towards the boards, I was still on duty for another few days before I could head home. As i passed through the corridors i passed a officer asking about his son, every has someone fighting in this war to end all wars, he came to a halt in front of me desperately asking for his sons condition, i had treated him when he first got brought in, he was going to make it but he no longer had a left leg, a bomb had hit near trench and had impaled his leg. As he quickly dismissed me, relief clear on his face, you could clearly see the shine on his Swastika pin. “Heil Hitler” I murmured as he marched away into the chaos.

This is my first attempt writing, please tell me how to improve! this is the first part of a longer story.