#but... ive known this was happening for almost two months now. it was a rapid decline but i'd already started grieving.

[kitchenangst]

Before Anything Good pt. 3

Mako x reader (she/her pronouns)

Summary: Barely one month of living on the streets, and Mako has grown skeptical of anything good that’s offered freely to him. When the girl from the other side of town calls him stinky and demands he take a shower, he might just be right about his newfound cynicism.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: language, implied abusive relationship, incoherent thoughts, really badly described analogies

a/n: why is it so hard to get to the mAIN STORY LINE LMAO I am neglecting my hw so hard right now anyway lmk if there are errors 

pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iv

Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom, Mako, Bolin, bathroom- her feet bring her to her destination, hand on the knob, ready to burst in- wait, no, knock first. 

The door opens slightly, revealing a part of Mako’s face before his hand sticks out expectantly. Yn stares at his open palm before slapping it with her own. 

“Sorry! Forgot the towels!” she calls tersely as she hurries to the towel cabinet, just as she heard the bathroom door shut. Running back to the bathroom at the same pace with the towels in her arms, she freezes halfway as she realized she had forgotten their clothes. Fuck, where were the clothes, that’s the whole reason why she went to ask her mom in the first place. They had to be in the basket in her father’s room or something, she concludes, whatever that something is. She breezes by the bathroom on her way there, leaving the towels on the doorknob with an urgent knock, not noticing that they had fallen to the ground before she returned to the room. 

Clothes, clothes, what were their sizes. Frantically digging through the basket, all she finds are her father’s garments. Turning to the dresser, she urgently starts pulling the drawers out one by one, lifting and throwing the folded clothes until she can find the pair of clothes, the uniform, she realizes, that was always provided in faux hospitality.

As she continues to shuffle through the clothes, she can’t help but think that she should’ve just left the two in the alleyway (sympathy be damned, this was much more harmful than helpful) if she had known her father was going to mug them of the only money they had left. 

Is that why they had so many clothes uniforms for various sizes? To rob the other orphans she had insisted on bringing home for dinner as well? Wasn’t it counterproductive to spend money on them when these orphans barely had money to spare? 

She finally finds 2 sets of clothes uniforms: one roughly her size and another just slightly smaller. Without wasting a moment, she gathers them in her arms and races to the bathroom, rushing to stop her father before he leaves. However, she barely makes it out the door without him in the way. 

“Spirits, sweetie, what animal did you release in my room this time?” 

Finally sparing a glance around the room, Yn finds the state of the room just as messy as her mind. The clothes strewn everywhere and unorganized, thrown at rapid fire just like her thoughts. It dawns on her that he’s about to leave when he grabs his coat and hat… leave to mug her new friends (if she was even allowed to call them that at this point), just like he had every time before today. 

“Father, where are you going?” she tries to ask normally, as unsuspectingly as possible, but the shaky pitch as she calls for his attention might as well have given away that she discovered his scheming. 

“Just picking up some money,” he responds coolly, sending a shiver down her spine and goosebumps in their wake. 

“From where?” Her fingers twitch in anticipation of his answer, hiding underneath the uniform. 

He way he forces a chuckle out to alleviate where the conversation is going, sickens her as he crouches down to her height. “My boss, of course.” The tight lipped smile he gives is all she needs to know he’s lying. 

“You-you’re not stealing from them, are you?” The very thought of it felt absurd, but saying it out loud left a bitter note on her tongue. She clutches onto the clothes, the fabric the only thing stopping her nails from digging into her palms. “They don’t have any money!” She whispers harshly, unsure if she wanted Mako and Bolin to hear from the other side of the hall. She couldn’t tell what was worse: knowing that stopping her father will impact the household or that this would affect the brothers for worse. Was picking one over the other any better? Did she even have a choice?

“Sweetie, we need the money, too, so just keep them occupied while I look for it.” An order, and one she had no choice but to follow.

His hand snaking around the back of her neck is enough to stop her from protesting. The firm squeeze making the words lose themselves in her throat and forced to be swallowed down if she didn’t want to choke on air. His smile was cold in comparison to the unspoken threat in his eyes, his nostrils flaring just slightly to serve as a reminder that someone will bear the punishment in her stead, and the slight raise in his eyebrows almost daring her to challenge him. 

Somehow, it scares her more than meeting the back of his hand. 

He finally releases his hold when she doesn’t say anything. “Well? Better get those clothes to those boys,” he reminds her while standing back to his full height. “It’ll be the only nice thing they’ll have in awhile!”

Her face pales as her feet drag her back to the bathroom, hardly registering that she left the room in the first place. Knocking on the door once again, she merely shoves the clothes in Mako’s face before he can stick his hand out the open door. “Dinner will be ready in a bit,” she mechanically says, looking away. She turns back at Mako’s thanks, immediately regretting it because her eyes speak of conflicts louder than she can say, regret written on her face clearer than a sunny day, and she fears that he catches on. She opens and closes her mouth, unsure if she should tell them. Before she decides on an answer, she promptly shuts the door on him and returns to the kitchen to help her mother. 

Hearing her mom’s upbeat humming with a large pink print donning her face as she sets the table nearly breaks Yn’s heart. How could she pick between her mother and these two boys she just barely met? How would there be any way to satisfy both parties? She sighs at the conflict, her shoulders sagging at the thought of being unable to do anything for both of them. 

She begins filling the bowls with rice, her movements sluggish from dreading what will happen to Mako and Bolin. How will their opinion of her change? Will they forgive her? Will her mom forgive her if she makes the other two leave before her father could find their money, if they even had any? Was it like this every other time before? 

She hated it. The feeling of being tugged between two equally wrong decisions; the feeling of seeing the surface of the water while chained to the bottom, only barely being able to have the tip of her nose reach the surface for air; both of which her body would readily succumb to the dark. 

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” She looks up from her spot to find her mother’s concerned face. “You’re piling the rice,” she says with a playful grin. She gently takes the bowl and rice scooper out of Yn’s hands, pushing the rice piled past the bowl’s rim back into the cooker. She can’t help but think her mom could have pushed it into the last remaining bowl instead. 

She merely stares at her mom filling the last bowl, proceeding to frown at her mom. “Will you be eating tonight?” Yn’s voice comes out much smaller than she hoped, the lump in her throat making it hard for her to speak any louder. 

Her mom stares blankly at her, pondering for a few brief seconds before concluding, “I would hope so. I made plenty for all of us.” Hope so. The fact that she had to think if she would eat, if she even got to, made Yn’s stomach lurch, stones piling in her abdomen, making it hard to filter out the guilt. “Those boys are nice. They should be able to take back any leftovers they want.” Her mom’s smile falters to a grimace, as if she was compensating them for their loss, for the misfortune she brought to them. At least she was doing something to balance the bad. What about Yn? What could she do? Her feet stay frozen to the ground, unmoving just like her problem. 

“Mmm!! Smells so good!!” Bolin’s call from the hallway snaps her out of her reverie. His head pokes out from the corner shortly afterward, eyes darting until they finally land on the table. “Mako! There’s food!”  

Bolin races to the seats at the round dining table with Mako shortly behind him, both unable to resist the enticing aromas of the meal and reach for their chopsticks, manners forgotten. Their mouths water at the sight of grilled fish and sauteed vegetables, and start piling it onto their bowls before scarfing it down with a wholehearted zeal that could light an entire town. 

“Doesn’t it feel nice to eat without being stinky,” Yn teases with good nature as she approaches the table with her bowl in hand. Climbing onto her seat, she begins piling the food into her own bowl as well, making sure to sneak the vegetables she liked less into her mom’s bowl. Dinner is quiet, save for a few chuckles from her mom at how Bolin practically squeals in delight at every bite, the crisp ring from chopsticks hitting the ceramic bowls or plates, and the dull thud of the cups tapping the wooden table whenever someone drank from it. 

This is nice, Yn thinks. She grins at the small smirk Mako gives Bolin when he puts more vegetables in his bowl, at the wide eyes that take up half of Mako’s face when her mom wipes the sauce off his mouth with a napkin, at Bolin’s little dancing when he thinks she didn’t notice he stole her favorite part of the fish from her bowl. It’s one of the more heartwarming dinners she hasn’t had in awhile, one where her mom’s eyes gleam from pure joy instead of unshed tears. The whole scene makes her almost forget about her dad, until she hears the doorknob shake. 

And like a crack in glass, the screeching of Yn’s chair scraping against the floor as she abruptly stands, ruins the whole atmosphere. Everyone stops mid-bite as they stare at her escaping the table. Mako and Bolin carry on after sharing a look while her mom struggles to swallow her food. 

Her feet slam against the floor, almost getting hit by the doorknob as it swings open. She cranes her neck to look at him in the eye, simply holding her hands out to gather his coat and hat for the second time that day. 

His hollow chuckle does nothing to warm her as he says, “What? No bow this time, sweetie? Did you forget how to greet people at the door?” The smile playing on his lips a menace and an indicator of his good mood as he recalls how successful his catch this time is. 

“No…” Almost shamefully, she bows slightly, her arms stiff as she brings them back to her side only to raise them again for his coat and hat. “Welcome back, father.” 

She dashes off to his bedroom the moment she retrieves them, patting the jacket and emptying the pockets for any signs of coins or bills, only to come out with a few yuans. Making sure to take it, she wedges it between the wall and the back of her dresser in her own room for later. 

She returns to the dinner table on time to see him seated between her chair and mother. The grilled fish she ate flops aggressively in her stomach when he mentions picking up money from his boss. A small bonus, he calls it. She catches Mako looking towards Bolin for a few brief seconds, eyes wary, at the amount.

About 1,300 yuans. It’s a whole lot more than the amount she found in her father’s coat. 

Is that how much they had? How were they able to have so much money despite being orphans? Where were they able to hide that amount? How was he able to find it? Where is he hiding their money if it wasn’t in his coat?

Dinner is silent once again, yet the tension is enough to ruin her appetite. It doesn’t feel as heartwarming anymore, the table flooding with anxiety and defeat at the mere presence of her father. His attempt at small talk is choppy and near condescending. Mako’s posture had stiffened since her father sat down, but if the stoic expression resting on his face showed any discomfort at his tone, he didn’t say anything about it. His choice to make dry responses doesn’t deter her father, doesn’t stop the fact that they’re in his household, doesn’t hinder his good mood from robbing.  

The plates are eaten clean with leftovers packed neatly into containers for Mako and Bolin to eat for tomorrow. Before they leave, Yn makes sure to carefully tuck the yuans she stole from her father’s coat earlier into the pockets of their washed clothes, leaving a messily scribbled note saying she was sorry. She returns the folded clothes to them just as they enter the carriage.

“Will I see you again?” It’s a stupid question, she thinks, yet she can’t help but be a little hopeful. Of course she can see them, but they might not want to see her again, especially once they find out their money was stolen. 

“I don’t know. We don’t really have anywhere else to go, so maybe?” And it’s a naive response that’s bound to change soon enough. 

Bolin’s face becomes the more dopey with every passing second he tries to stay awake, likely tired from digesting all the food he devoured. Once they secure their seats, Mako says their thanks as the carriage rides off. Yn watches it as it grows smaller and smaller in the distance, yet it does nothing to quell the growing guilt in her gut.

-

a/n: yall know I had to sneak in one last stinky before reaching the end of this chapter LOL i had to split this part AGAIN because it was too many words, and the next part will likely be the end of what i originally intended to have as part one,,, also updates may be slower from now since school is picking up the pace :(( anyway pls stay hydrated it’s like 100F where i am and it sucks 

edit: i tweaked the last few paragraphs a bit bc it was a tad confusing since i wasn’t very clear with my wording, so i’m very sorry about that ;( also i hope any questions you guys have will be answered in next few updates!! 

pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iv

taglist! (if you’d like to be tagged, pls DM or send in an ask!)

@welovediaaxx​​

[pixieposts]

Febuwhump Day 14

AO3

Today's prompt was technically “I didn’t mean it” but I didn’t have any solid ideas for it, so instead I went with Alt 9: Gunpoint.  I know this is after the gunshot part, but I had an idea, and I ran with it😅.  This also takes place inside a Modern!AU that I haven’t posted yet... Soooooo if you read it again act surprised I guess? 😂😂

TW’s:

Major Character Injury

Warning: Trent Ikithon  

Brief Description of Injury

Fjord looked up in surprise at the quiet knocking, almost uncertain if he had imagined it.  Most of his friends didn’t bother to knock... the only one he could think of was Caleb (despite having a key), but he had only left about an hour ago.  He stood as the knocking sounded again, setting down his tea and making his way to the door.  He smiled when he opened it and saw the familiar ginger man standing on the stoop.  

“Hey there Cay, I didn’t expect you back till morning, miss me that much?”  

He felt the teasing grin drop off his face when he realized just how pale Caleb looked... taking in his expression Fjord reached out to pull him inside.  Caleb winced, but followed him, leaning back against the door when it closed behind him.  Fjord felt the panic rising in his chest as he got a good look at Caleb in the light.  His breathing was rapid and shallow, his face sickly pale and pained.  He was clutching his hip under his coat and let out a gasp when Fjord jostled the fabric.  The scent of blood overwhelmed him for a moment, and he thought he might be sick.  

“Caleb what- what the fuck?”

“Trent, or one of his guys” Caleb forced another deep breath “shot-shot me, I would have gone home but-” He stopped, panting slightly as he held up his blood coated hand “I- I didn’t know what else to do”

“Fuck, no it’s- You need and ambulance Cay”

Fjord led him to the kitchen, trying to support as much of his weight as possible.  The moment Caleb was seated in the large kitchen chair Fjord whipped out his phone and dialed the emergency number.  

“What is your emergency?”

“Ambulance, we need an ambulance, my friend he- we need help, he's been shot and we need help”

Fjord could hear the panic in his voice now as Calebs eyelids drooped, the hand on his hip was going lax where it needed to be maintaining pressure.

“Address?”  

“Cay you need- yes sorry it’s 23 Spire Square- put pressure darlin’ please”  

The woman was talking again, but he barely registered it as he moved to grab a clean kitchen towel and pressed it up against the bullet wound.  Caleb’s eyes were completely closed now, and Fjord wasn’t sure if he was awake or had actually passed out.  

“Sir?  Sir I understand this is difficult, the ambulance is almost there, and I need you to unlock the door”  

“It’s unlocked, I never- I didn’t get around to re-locking it”  

The paramedics arrived and lifted Caleb from the chair onto a stretcher.  Fjord felt the bile rise in his stomach at the way Caleb’s head lolled, he was sweating, he was so pale.  The ambulance ride was a blur of tearing clothing and beeping machines.  One of the paramedics tried to ask him what had happened, but he had nothing to give them other than Trent’s name.  The wound was horrible, once the medics had it cleaned off Fjord could see that there was more than one awful hole in Caleb’s skin.  

He had to look away.  

He watched Caleb’s face instead, watching the way it twitched, taking some small comfort in the fact that it hadn’t stopped.  The fact that he was breathing.  

When they arrived at the hospital there was a team waiting, they took Caleb and one woman stopped him at a pair of swinging doors

“You can’t come past here dear, you need to wait in the waiting room”

“Please, please I have to- he needs me, I need to be with him”  

He knew he should be embarrassed by the way he pleaded, but at this point he couldn’t make himself care.  He needed to be with Caleb, he needed to make sure he was okay.  

“I’m sorry, really, but he’s in good hands with the doctors okay?  The best thing you can do for him now is wait here.  What’s your name honey, is there someone you can call?”  

Can I help? Is there someone I can call?  

His own voice rang through his head, all those months ago.  He nodded at the nurse, still staring over her shoulder as if he could see through the doors through sheer force of will.  

“I’m Fjord”

“What’s his name dear, he didn’t have ID”  

“Caleb, his names Caleb”  

“Okay” she led him to a hard plastic chair from which he could still see the doors “call someone, we’ll take care of him and send someone for you when he’s out of the surgery okay?”

He nodded and watched her walk quickly through the swinging doors, the panic had faded into an uncomfortable numbness.  Caleb was back there, he was back there with lead in his body, in pain, and Fjord couldn’t help.  

Finally, after what could have been a few minutes, or an hour, he picked up his phone and dialed.

“Fjord?  If this is you calling to say Caleb is sleeping over again-”

“Veth”

Something in his tone stopped her immediately, a worried hum was the only response.

“Caleb’s- Caleb was shot”

“He was what?  Where are you?  Is he okay?”  

Veth’s panic broke through the fog in his mind, and he shook his head before remembering that she couldn’t see him.

“He- well he was breathing when I-” he forced himself to take a breath “hospital, we’re at the hospital, the doctors took him, they wouldn’t... I couldn’t go in with him”  

“I’m on the way”  

The click of her hanging up the phone was too loud, but he nodded and slipped his own phone back into his pocket.  All he could do now was wait.  

Veth arrived quickly, so quickly that Fjord would realize later that she must have driven like a mad woman, but in the moment, he was just relieved to have someone else there.  They didn’t speak, she just sat next to him and joined him in staring at the doors.  At some point her small hand landed on his, and he was thankful for the contact, though he didn’t have the words to say it.  

Finally, what Fjord would later be told was about two hours after they had arrived, an elvish man in scrubs walked out the doors.  He paused for a moment before he found Fjord and Veth and walked over.  Fjord's heart was pounding again as he tried to read the mans expression, looking for something to indicate that all was well or... or not.  

“Fjord?”  

He stood, and the doctor held out his hand.  Fjord took it briefly as he nodded, Veth standing and introducing herself as well.  

“I’ll start by saying that Caleb is in recovery”  

Fjord felt the air go out of his lungs all at once as he dropped back into the seat, relief washing through him.  The doctor gave him a moment before continuing.

“The bullet entered his right hip and lodged in his left thigh; he was incredibly lucky that it missed both femoral arteries.  It was a narrow miss in the left leg... but a miss still.  We managed to get the bullet out, along with some bone shards from where it nicked his hip-bone.”  

Fjord nodded along, trying to get his breathing under control again.

“You can come back and see him, but he’s under some fairly heavy anesthetic so he’ll be out for a while”

Fjord stood immediately and squeezed when he felt Veth take his hand.  The doctor led them down a series of halls into a much quieter ward of the hospital.  It occurred to Fjord as they passed a darkened window just how late it was.  He needed to call Caduceus, there was no chance he would make his shift.  The doctor opened a door into what would only be considered a typical hospital room.  The lights had been lowered to a soft glow, and the blinds on the windows were drawn.  The nurse from earlier was blocking Fjords view of the bed as she fiddled with one of the machines before nodding to herself and turning around.  She offered him a soft smile, but the best he could manage in response was a grimace.  

“The chairs pull out, they’re not the most comfortable but it’s better than sleeping sitting up” she said softly, patting his arm as she left.  

“If you have any questions, myself or another doctor will be in to check on him in a few hours.  If he wakes before that the blue button behind the bed will call the nurse's station”

“Thank you, doctor,” Veth’s voice was gentle, and a little scratchy.  

“Get some rest”  

As if.  

Fjord pulled the chairs up to the side of the bed, feeling his chest ache at the sight that greeted him.  Caleb was sleeping, long lashes fanned across familiar freckled cheekbones.  He was still pale, but the sickly sheen was gone, and if Fjord hadn’t known any better, he would have thought nothing was wrong.  Someone had changed him into a hospital gown, and a voice in the back of Fjord’s head noted that they would need something to take him home in.  The blanket bulged slightly where Fjord assumed the gauze pad sat on his hip, and the bandaging was wrapped around his thigh.

It was a near miss

Gods.  If the bullet had hit his artery... Fjord shivered and sat down, sliding his hand under Caleb’s on the sheets to avoid messing with the IV sticking out of the top.  His poor hands, both attached to the clear medical tubes leading to the odd bags of... whatever they were.  Anti-biotics maybe?  Pain medication certainly.  He was never letting Caleb out of his sight again.  

No, that was crazy.  

But... if he had driven him home, if he had insisted on it instead of giving in to Calebs claim that it wasn’t worth wasting gas...  

At the very least, he wouldn’t be walking home for a while.  

Veth took his free hand, her eyes locked on Caleb’s face, and together they waited.  

[shutupandshipit]

Little Life - Ch.12

Summary:  A baby could ruin his career before it had even started. If anyone found out, he would be kicked out of the Hero Course at the very least and UA at the very worst. Even then, how was he supposed to care for a baby once it arrived? He was a fucking seventeen-year-old boy, not a twenty-nine-year-old omega with their shit at least somewhat together.

…..

Or where Katsuki get pregnant, but is determined to make it to graduation. No matter what it takes.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T (just for language mostly)

Chapter: 12/16

Previous <- Chapter 11

Chapter 13 -> Next

Master Post

Chapter 12: Birth

"Please, someone help!"

Katsuki was shot back into consciousness with a scream.

A frazzled nurse ran forward, eyes wide as she took them in. "Sir, what-"

Izuku didn't let her finish. "He got hit, but I don't know where! Please, help him! Please, he's pregnant-" A sob exploded from him as his whole body shook. "Please help my mate. Save our baby."

There was a flurry of activity around Katsuki that he could barely understand through his haze of pain. More shouting, a gurney beneath him as they ran through the halls. They passed in a blur of white walls. He kept a vice-like grip around Izuku's fingers and another around his stomach. The pain was starting to numb him, clear his brain as it did when there was too much.

Izuku talked rapidly to the personnel around them, explaining everything to the nurses as he was wheeled into a room. The door slammed shut.

'Save our baby. Save our baby. Save our baby. Please, save our baby.' The mantra continued on a reel in his head. He was barely mentally present, all his energy focused on breathing and willing their baby to be okay. He only came to when Izuku was ripped from him.

Izuku fought desperately to get back to his side as Katsuki reached for him again. "What are you doing? Bring him back!"

"Sir, please calm down. We need to get him stable before we can assess the fetus-"

"He's nine months pregnant!"

The nurse's face was red, and she tersely tried again, "Sir-"

"He needs me!"

The movement around Katsuki never slowed even as another nurse, taller and burlier than the first, stepped up to hold Izuku back. Katsuki was stripped of his suit. An IV was pressed into his arm, monitors pressed to his skin. The rapid rhythm of his heart filled the room, speaking to his panic. A hand was pressed to his chest, holding him still. Under Izuku's desperate snarls, he still heard the doctor speaking, and against his will, he began to calm.

"The baby has a strong heartbeat. No signs of distress, but he's in labor. We need to get him transferred to a birthing room before the alpha goes feral. He has broken ribs-"

"Don't worry about me!" Katsuki forced out a vicious snarl, making the activity halt. He'd never been a normal omega -far from it- and he was sure they'd never heard an omega sound like an alpha. Especially an omega in labor. "Our baby comes first!"

"Sir-"

"If someone tells us to calm down one more time, I will rip their fucking throat out! Help my baby!" he gasped.

The doctor, a beta smelling overwhelmingly of clean laundry, calmly observed him. "Your baby is going to be fine, Ground Zero, but if I don't heal you first, you're not going to be able to give birth, and unfortunately, C-section isn't an option for male omegas. This is a really dangerous time for you and your baby. They're fine right now, but if I don't heal you, they won't be. Do you want to endanger your baby?"

"Are you fucking-"

"Do you?"

Katsuki found the breath to scream, "No!" pushed along by another rolling contraction.

"Then let me work, and we'll get you into a birthing room as soon as possible." She looked up at Izuku, voice stern as she directed him. "Alpha, get over here. He needs skin-to-skin contact. Keep him calm while I work. He's going to need you to keep him conscious if the injuries are as bad as I think. He's got a punctured lung, at the very least, and if there's also internal bleeding, this is going to take a lot out of him. Undress to your comfort level, and get on the bed with him."

Izuku stared at them, shock and fear still on his face. He didn't move.

"Dammit, Deku!" Katsuki snapped before another contraction hit him. This time, he had the presence of mind to grit his teeth against the rising scream. "Fuck, get over here! Why does this fucking hurt so much? I thought contractions weren't supposed to be bad at first!"

Izuku stripped to his boxers and climbed into the bed with him, leaving his hero uniform in a crumpled heap on the floor. He pressed into Katsuki's side and his tear-stained face into his hair.

"Yes, well, this is just the beginning, Ground Zero," the doctor said as her hands grew almost uncomfortably warm on his skin. She started at his throat and moved down. "But it's only so bad because of your injuries. It won't be as bad for awhile after I'm done. Now, take as deep a breath as you can."

Katsuki inhaled shakily, just a shallow inhale, and gripped Izuku's hand tightly. He could feel something in his right lung knitting back together, and it immediately became easier to breath. As she reached his ribs though, there was an audible 'crack'. He grunted, biting into his lip. Copper and salt burst across his tongue. Compared to the contractions though, it was barely a mosquito bite.

"You're a tough one. Any other person would have passed out." The warmth grew more comfortable, and the heart monitor slowed to a more normal rhythm.

"Don't look down on me," Katsuki snarled passed his teeth.

Izuku carded his fingers through his hair, chest rumbling gently.

The doctor's smile never wavered. Several minutes later, she pulled back. "Well, looks like you didn't have any internal bleeding, luckily. Okay, let's get you into a birthing room." She nodded towards the nurses that had stepped back, and they swarmed the bed.

.....

Several hours later, they were still in the birthing room. Katsuki's thoughts were pleasantly fuzzy thanks to the epidural they'd shot him up with as soon as they'd gotten into the birthing room. Izuku was passed out at his side, mouth wide and drooling, and he took the chance to unashamedly start scenting the idiot.

There was a moment before Izuku sleepily started to blink, and then he was crying again. "Oh god, Kacchan, I'm so thankful you're okay. I don't- I wouldn't have- Without you- I should have made you stay out of the battle. I'm a terrible alpha!"

Katsuki smiled through the drugs, too fucked up to get angry. He gripped Izuku's jaw until his cheeks squished. He laughed at the absolutely ridiculous expression. "Let's be real, you wouldn't have been able to keep me back anyway. And no one was expecting there to be a battle, dumby. I'm stubborn, remember, and so it this little monster in me. They're the strongest of the three of us."

"But what if-" Izuku squeaked out through his squashed mouth.

Katsuki's grip tightened minimally. "No. Stop. I'm fine. They're fine. Stop thinking about the 'what ifs' and be fucking grateful. Neither of us thought I'd get hit in a fight that wasn't supposed to happen, so just shut up and kiss me."

Izuku pressed forward enthusiastically, and they made out for several blissful moments before the door cracked out.

Izuku was out of the bed and on his feet immediately, crouching low and defensively in front of the bed as Katsuki's own growl joined his.

Aizawa stepped in looking unimpressed. "Chill out, you two, I'm not the enemy," he said with a roll of his eyes, "We have a lot to talk about, and there's some idiots behind me who are very eager to check on you."

Katsuki's ears pricked as he picked out the tell-tale hiccups of his best friend. Before he could stop his drug addled brain, he said, "Let him in."

Aizawa poked his head outside, and said, "Let me do the talking. If you two get too excited, I'll send you back to the school."

As soon as he stepped back from the door, Kirishima burst through. He was a full on mess of tears as he rushed forward with All Might on his heels, but stopped a couple of steps into the room at the sight of Izuku's defensive stance and flickering lightning. He dropped onto all fours, crawling forward to Izuku's feet, and bared his neck in pure submission. He was still sobbing messily.

"How are you even hydrated enough to still cry, Shitty Hair?" Katsuki quipped, and only then did Izuku relax and return to his side.

"Can I..." Kirishima sniffled, staring up at them.

Katsuki nodded, and Kirishima had his arms wrapped around his neck in the next moment, scenting him aggressively. "I'm so glad you're all right! I was so worried! It took forever to find you, and then they wouldn't let me in, and then-"

"Fucking breath, Eiji, holy shit. You're getting snot on me, you gross fuck."

Kirishima calmed marginally, but didn't let go.

Katsuki threaded a hand into his hair, holding him close as Izuku climbed back into the bed the other side. He should have felt confined with so many bodies pressed in around him, but he and his omega were just basking in the warmth and comfort.

"Young Bakugou, Young Midoriya, I'm happy to see you two are both alright. How was the... birth?" All Might asked from his spot beside Aizawa.

"Well, the baby is as stubborn as Kacchan, so... It hasn't happened yet," Izuku explained wearily, eyes trained on their teachers, "Um, Mr. Aizawa-"

"Stop. I'm going to assume the two of your have known this whole time?"

A deep blush darkened Izuku's cheeks, and Katsuki wanted to go back to kissing him. Wow, he really was high.

"N-no. I found out last month," Izuku whispered.

Kirishima pulled away, wiping at his eyes. "I've known for, uh, s-s-six months."

Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. "I have no idea how you hid this for nine months. You know how much trouble you're all in?"

"A heaping pile?" Katsuki asked, grinning. The epidural seemed to make it impossible for him to feel anything other than happy.

"More." Aizawa was silent for a moment before sighing. "Luckily, the hospital staff has agreed to keep this quiet. The only thing anyone knows is that you were hurt during the battle, and Midoriya brought you here. You're also incredibly lucky that the armor you were wearing kept the child safe. If the villain had hit you any lower, that might not be the case. So, thank whatever god you believe in for that."

"I only believe in myself and Izuku," Katsuki interrupted.

"Whatever. So, let's talk about what's going to happen." Aizawa pulled a chair from the bedside to sit in front of them, crossing his legs and leveling a glare at them. "Principal Nezu already knows the situation. If this had been discovered earlier, you would have been dropped immediately, but seeing as you're already about to give birth and there are only three months until graduation, it's been decided to allow you to stay."

Izuku and Kirishima whopped even as tears started to track down their faces again.

Aizawa's face seemed to soften minutely, his scent filling the room in a comfortable, calming haze. "There are some conditions. You'll be moved into a room with Midoriya due to the nature of the situation. I assume you've basically been sharing a room as is?" They nodded silently. "Right. You'll be allowed to keep the child with you since there is literally no other option."

"But?" Katsuki prompted, his irritability slowly, slowly, slowly growing. The epidural must have been wearing off. That, or there was another wave of contractions beginning to crest.

"But if any of you can't keep your grades up -yes, Kirishima, this includes you as well and any others I find out were in on this- or your performance drops, you will be immediately dropped. If anyone asks why you have a newborn with you, your cover for the time is that you saved them during battle. Their quirk makes it impossible for you to be separated, and you have to take care of them until their parents are located. After graduation, you are free to disclose any information you wish. Understand?"

Katsuki laughed. "Like I would let a baby keep me from becoming a hero. Don't look down on me."

"Wouldn't dream of it, trouble kid."

All Might was ringing his hands at Aizawa's side, but remained silent.

Katsuki opened his mouth to say something else, but stiffened when pain rippled through him. He stared to pant, and everyone but Aizawa looked at him in concern. "Get out. I'm about to start screaming again." When Kirishima stood to follow their teachers, he latched onto his shoulder. "Stay."

A look of surprise passed over his face before he smiled and sat back down on the edge of the bed. "Sure thing, man, I'd love to."

Katsuki laughed. "You won't be saying that soon."

"We'll be back in a few hours to check on you," All Might said, lingering in the doorway before letting it close.

.....

They were in that birthing room for twenty-seven straight hours before the doctor started to urge Katsuki to push.

"Fuck you, Deku, you useless piece of shit! I'm going fucking skin you and make your insides your outsides, bastard!" Katsuki screamed at the top of his lungs as he crushed both Izuku's and Kirishima's fingers until their bones creaked in his grip. "You're never going to touch me again, do you hear me! Never! You fucking did this to me, asshole! Garbage alpha! I'm going to make Shitty Hair my alpha after this since you're such a useless bag of dicks! You're just a fucking deku, Deku!"

Between his knees, the doctor's shoulders were trembling with laughter.

Izuku and Kirishima sobbed at his sides, gripping each others shoulders for support over his head.

His omega thrilled in his chest despite the pain. His alpha, his pack, and soon, a baby. It was everything his shitty omega had ever yearned for.

"You're doing great, Bakugou," the doctor said when she finally got her laughter under control, "You're crowning, so just another really good push or two, and then it'll be all over, alright?"

Grinding his teeth, Katsuki ignored the feeling of being ripped out at the seams. He gripped the hands in his tighter, and pushed. "I fucking hate you so much!" A scream ripped from his throat, and then relief washed through him.

He fell back onto the bed, panting harshly as tears streaked hot down his cheeks from closed eyes.

Izuku swooped in, pressing kisses across his sweaty face, laughter on his lips even as his hand started to purple. "You were so amazing, Kacchan! You did so great. I love you so much!"

"Love you too, idiot," Katsuki whispered. There was a breath, and then he stiffened as a loud cry split the air.

Struggling to open his eyes, Katsuki pushed himself up on trembling arms until two arms wrapped around his back to help him. The three stared at the doctor's white clothed back in anticipation. The cries grew in volume, angry and fussy.

"That was the most manly think I've ever seen," Kirishima whispered, trembling more than Katsuki was as the doctor turned with a giant smile and a pink bundle in her arms.

"She's a little small. Only a teeny tiny 4 pounds even, sixteen inches long. One of the main reasons you didn't show. She's healthy though, very hungry and very angry," she said, scooting in between Kirishima and the bed to lay her in Katsuki's arms, "She's beautiful. You did really great. Now, I'll send someone in about an hour, alright?" She stepped back, looking at Kirishima. "You should get back to school, Red Riot. The new parents need to rest."

Katsuki snarled, "He stays. You're not going anywhere, Shitty Hair."

"Bakugou-"

"No."

The doctor sighed, but nodded. "Well, if you insist. I really don't need a new omega mother on a rampage. Someone will be by to heal your hands. I heard breaking bones with that last push. But you should at least eat and rest. It's been a long day." She was gone in the next moment.

Katsuki ignored everything in favor of staring down at the little bundle that was nuzzling insistently against his clothed chest. "Greedy little shit, aren't you?" he asked fondly, and glanced up at Izuku, "Help me get this stupid fucking gown open. I can't move my arms."

Carefully, Izuku and Kirishima lowered him back to the bed before extracting their arms. Smiling down at the pair, Izuku reached over to start untying the front of the gown.

Red stained Kirishima's cheeks, and he stuttered, "I'm going to go find some food for us while you do that."

"Don't get embarrassed now, Shitty Hair. You just watched me give birth. There's nothing worse than that," Katsuki quipped tiredly, but Kirishima just grinned back as he headed for the door.

"Okay," Izuku said, glancing up with an enamored, dopey smile before he could leave, "Thanks, Kiri."

Katsuki hissed as hard gums latched onto his nipple.

.....

Katsuki was out before Kirishima returned, and he woke up hours later from a deep and dreamless sleep. He was clean, the sheets beneath him crisp and devoid of blood and other bodily fluids. Blinking sleepily, he turned his head to find Izuku completely knocked out, snoring in his oblivion. Their baby girl had been fashioned with a tiny diaper and lay splayed bare against Izuku's equally bare chest.

His heart fluttered in his chest at the sight. Reaching over, he gently ran a finger over the soft green fuzz covering her head. She mewled at his touch, shuffling and nuzzling along Izuku's chest.

"Come here, little monster, you're not gonna get anything out of him," he whispered softly, lifting her slowly from Izuku's chest and cradling her against his own. She latched onto his offered nipple without fuss, sucking greedily. Katsuki stroked her pudgy cheek, smiling. He'd done this. He'd made this little gift. He'd never upstage this achievement for as long as he lived. "You look just like your dumb dad."

"Katsuki?" Kirishima asked sleepily from a chair on his other side, scrubbing at his eyes as he sat up. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit, but the endorphins have pretty much dulled the brunt of it," Katsuki explained, looking over as he scooted the chair closer.

His eyes were wide, mouth parted in astonishment as he stared down at her. He reached out, but stopped. "Can I... Does that hurt?" There were deep purple bags beneath his eyes.

"No." After a heartbeat, Katsuki said, "You can hold her after she's done if you want."

Kirishima's eyes widened even further, sparking brighter than ever. Any traces of exhaustion were scoured from his face. "Really? I can? What about Deku?"

Katsuki rolled his eyes. "That's a dumbass question. He just let you stay while I pushed this little shit out. I think he'll be fine." He paused, considering his next words. "You're pack. He wouldn't dare."

"Awesome," Kirishima whispered before glancing over at Izuku, "He was kind of freaked out when I got back. Guess you just passed out after I left. It took me awhile to calm him down. He was literally in tears while the doctors fixed the bones in our hands. After I got him to eat though, he passed out just as quickly. You two have been through a hell of a lot today. He really loves you, you know?"

"I know."

Kirishima was quiet, and then he smiled brightly. "Are you hungry? There's food waiting for you. Don't know how good it'll be at room temp, but..."

"I'm about to eat my own fucking hand, but I'll wait until she's done so I can have my hands free. I don't really want to get crumbs all over her."

"Sure thing." Kirishima's attentiveness as he watched the baby eat was almost uncomfortable, but Katsuki knew he was just curious, so he let it slide. It wasn't every day that he got to see a baby breast feed, especially from his friend.

It was another ten minutes before the baby's mouth went slack. At Katsuki's nod, Kirishima got up to set the wrapped sandwich, a banana, and a bag of chips in his lap.

"Bring the chair as close as you can," Katsuki instructed, and Kirishima sat so close that his chest was pressed to the railing. "Okay, be careful. Hands where my hands are. Support her head and butt. Yeah, like that. Okay. I'm going to pull my hands away, don't freak out. She's really light. Don't hold her too tight. Yeah, like that." He watched Kirishima like a hawk as he ever so carefully sat back.

"She's so small, oh wow. She's beautiful, Katsuki. She looks just like Deku." Kirishima's face was the definition of 'in love' as he stared down at her. He was clearly as enamored as Izuku. "What are you going to name her?"

Doing up the ties of his gown, Katsuki grabbed for the food. Through a massive bite of bread and meat, he mumbled, "Izuku wants to name her 'Katsumi'."

Kirishima nodded. "Yeah, that's perfect for her. I can already tell she's gonna do amazing things. Who's last name are you using?"

"Both of ours. Bakugou-Midoriya."

Kirshima nodded again. They fell into silence while Kirishima nuzzled her and Katsuki wolfed down every crumb of food he'd been brought.

He sighed when he was done, still a little hungry, but not as much as before. He watched Kirishima and Katsumi, an unconscious smile curling up his lips. Before he could think better, he said, "Izuku and I only talked about it briefly, but we wanted to ask if you wanted to be her godfather. Only if you want."

Kirishima's head jerked up in surprise, and Katsuki groaned as tears spilled over onto his cheeks.

"Oh my god, stop crying already, Shitty Hair. It's fucking irritating, and my hormones are all fucked up right now. I'm not okay with crying because of you."

Kirishima only started to cry harder.

.....

They were stuck there for another day before Aizawa dispatched Mina and Ochako to come collect them with a change of clothes.

They cooed annoyingly over Katsumi while the three men changed, and Katsuki had to fight back the urge to rip them to pieces when he came back to collect her form their clutches. "Back off, vultures. Stop touching her," he snarled as he pulled her from their arms.

They whined in tandem, "But Kiri gets to hold her. Why can't we?"

"Because I don't want your scents on her. Back the fuck off before I hurt one of you. Don't touch my baby again."

They whined further, still crowding his face until Izuku none-to-gently got between them with a tight smile. They quickly backed away at the quiet growl he let out. It had been a long three days for Katsuki, Izuku and Kirishima, and it had worn even Izuku's nerves thin. Kirishima had been there the entire time, but even though the two heroes were pack, they hadn't been around. They were pack, but it was different.

Katsuki smirked, flashing a vicious smile at them.

The women stuck out their tongues in reply.

They left quickly after that, and when they arrived at the dorm, Kirishima, Mina and Ochako ran interference as Katsuki and Izuku bolted upstairs to Katsuki's room. They barricaded the door.

Dropping onto the bed, they settled into the comfort of familiar surroundings. It was more of a relief than either of them had realized, especially to have a proper nest.

After a shallow breath, laughter spilled from them.

"We're fucking parents," Katsuki gasped, hand pressed over his warming face, "Holy shit. We did it."

"You did it." Izuku pressed his face into Katsuki's neck, smiling like the fool he was. "Yeah, we're parents."

They continued to laugh, tears in their eyes, until they heard a tiny giggle from between them. When they pulled apart in shock to stare down, a slit of red eyes and toothless gums stared up at them. Katsumi giggled again.

Izuku let out a happy cry as the tears in his eyes fell, and pulled the pair into his chest. "Oh, I love you two so much! I didn't even know babies could laugh at two days old. Her laugh is beautiful!"

Katsuki smiled against his neck. "Yeah, yeah it is," he laughed.

[adverb-slut]

Empty Wallets and Empty Stomachs (Fanfiction)

Hiiiii, another AO3 repost from me, mainly ‘cause I’m trying to spread out my stuff on both platforms.  This is a short four-chapter story that I’m going to post all in one go (that’s why it’s so long) since I think it’s hard to navigate between different chapters on Tumblr.  If you’d like to read this story on AO3, click here.  I apologize in advance for the really bad title; I just couldn’t think of anything better at the time.

Title: 

Empty Wallets and Empty Stomachs

Summary: 

No summary, really.  Just chilling with Mammon and Beel and MC  and being dumb.  Mostly just MC and Mammon go shoppin’ and you cook with Beel.  Other shenanigans ensue.

Genre: 

Humor/Fluff/Slice of Life

Rating:

T

Word Count:

6645

Additional Note: 

Sorry to take too much of your time up with the super long stores, but again, on AO3, this is formatted and was originally meant to be a four-chapter story! :)

-

Chapter 1

“ … and that, class, is the true nature of the Twin Paradox.  As you can see—” Your professor, a gangly demon with round glasses and a haircut that reminds you vaguely of the Backstreet Boys, is promptly interrupted by the low gong of the school bell, signaling that class is over.  

Upon hearing this, you whip out your D.D.D and make your way to the door as your teacher calls, “Don’t forget to read Chapter Seven, Section Nine through Twelve of your Physics IV: Mind Over Matter textbook for class on Wednesday!”  

You scroll through the messages on your Chat app, doing your best to keep one eye on your D.D.D and one eye on the sea of demons bustling to get to their next class.

Lucky for you, Physics is your last class of the day.  As you make your way to the House of Lamentation, you notice that you have a missed call dating back an hour ago from Mammon.

Feeling it’s too late to call back, you decide to send a text instead.

Mammon MC:  You called?

MC:  What’s up?

You see an ellipse bubble pop up immediately, indicating that Mammon is typing.

Mammon:  MC HOW DARE YOU MISS MY CALL

Mammon: You can miss everyone else’s calls, but not *mine*, got it?

Mammon:  I have important things to say, y’know!

You feel a smile grow on your face and shake your head.

MC:  Important things?  Like what?

Mammon:  WELL, it just so happens that I get paid today!

You stare at the message in confusion.  Paid?  Before you can question his statement, you remember that Mammon frequently did various modeling jobs to make cash.  It was supposed to be a way to earn a little spending money and pay off his debts, but unfortunately for his creditors, the latter very rarely happened.

However, you are still unsure as to why Mammon is telling you this.  You send a confused-looking sticker.

Mammon, surprisingly, doesn’t respond right away.  You close out of the Chat app and begin to put your D.D.D away.  As you fumble around for a pocket to put it in, you crash headfirst into someone.

Oh, crap, you think.  The demons at R.A.D normally don’t bother you, but that’s because you usually don’t headbutt them accidentally.

“I’m so sorry—” you start, but your apology is cut short as the demon turns around.  “Beel! I apologize; I didn’t see you there!”

Beelzebub pivots to face you.  “Oh, hi, MC,” he says, greeting you with a melancholy nod. 

You cock your head curiously.  The sixth-born demon’s face is set into a sorrowful frown, and the five-pound bag of Scummy Bears that he’s holding is only half empty.  “Is something wrong?”    

He looks down and shakes his head.  “Nothing you need to worry about.” Beel looks back at you.  “Are you going back to the House of Lamentation?”

You want to ask him some more questions, but at the same time, don’t want to pry.  “Yep!”

“Let’s walk together, then.”  He flashes you an unconvincing smile as the two of you begin to make your way down the R.A.D halls.  

Unsure of what to say, you keep silent, smiling internally as Beel walks slower than his usual long strides so that you can keep up with him.  By now, most students have either gone to their dorms or have made it to their last few classes; the only sounds that echo through the hallway are you and Beel’s footsteps.

You keep your silence until the two of you near a trash can in the hall, where Beel dumps what remains of his bag of Scummy Bears into the garbage.

You gasp and your eyes widen.  What in the Devildom just happened?

Beel puts a hand over his taut stomach in response to your astonished look.  He peers at his feet as he explains, “My stomach feels queasy. I can’t eat right now.”

In the few months that you have known Beel, you can hardly remember a time where he has turned down food, let alone thrown it in the trash.  Whatever problem Beel is facing, you wager it has to be serious.  

Beel turns away and continues to walk down the corridor.  You want to grab his hand and get him to stop, but knowing Beel’s strength, you know that there’s no way that you could physically do that.  Instead, you run in front of him and put your hands out, causing him to halt and tilt his head in confusion.

Furrowing your brow, you poke Beel in the chest.  “Tell me what’s bothering you, Beel.  It’s not good to keep things bottled up.”

Beelzebub still won’t meet your eyes.  “I know.” He sighs, as he glances up and notices that you still haven’t left his path.  “I’ll tell you later.”

You don’t want to push the soft-spoken demon and step to the side.  “I hope you do.”

As before, you and Beel continue to the House of Lamentation in silence.  Once you two arrive, Beel heads directly to him and Belphegor's room without his usual stop to the kitchen.  You shake your head and make your way over to your own room.

Dumping your backpack onto the floor, you head over to your downy bed, breathing in the floral scent of jasmine and roses.  Only Asmodeus uses that scent of detergent, so he must be on laundry duty this week. You mentally thank him for using such a pleasant scent, unlike the strange musk of the sandalwood and papyrus fabric softener that Satan had used two weeks earlier.  

Your laundry-related musings are interrupted by rapid, deafening knocking on your door.  You hope it is Beel, finally ready to talk about whatever is bothering him, but you know better than that.  Beel, for all his muscled glory, has a very quiet, almost timid knock. The only demon in the House of Lamentation that has a knock so boisterous, so cacophonous, so incessant is … 

“How come you’re not dressed yet?” Mammon demands, walking straight into your room as soon as you open the door.  “Didn’t you get my messages?”

“I haven’t checked my D.D.D in a bit,” you admit, pulling the device out of the pocket of your uniform.  You open the Chat app, noticing that you indeed have some message notifications from Mammon.

Mammon Mammon:  HUH?  How’re you confused by *that*?

Mammon:  Getting paid means I’m going shopping!  And you’re comin’ with me!

Mammon:  Be dressed by the time I get home from *barf* tutoring!

Mammon:  Curse Lucifer and Satan for making me go to that crap, by the way.

Mammon:  I mean, who *cares* if I have a D- in Statistics?

“I don’t think I can go shopping today, Mammon,” you sigh.  Grabbing your backpack from off the ground, you begin to rifle through it until you find your Physics IV textbook.  “I have a lot of homework due soon.”

“Homework, shmomework,” Mammon chides, yanking the book from your hands.  “There ain’ t nothing wrong with not doing it once in a while.”

You give him a look.  No wonder he has a D- in Statistics.  

Mammon grabs your hand, leads you off the bed, and pushes you over to the closet.  “Tell ya what, if you come with me, I’ll be super generous and buy you anything you want from the store—only something super cheap, though, but still!”

You want to protest, but figure Mammon won’t let this go.  Instead, you get dressed into something more casual than your uniform and step out of your closet.

The second-born, who was absentmindedly flipping through your Physics textbook as you changed, immediately sits erect once as you appear.  “I swear that I wasn’t going through your things,” he claims. “Much.”  He gives your outfit a once-over and two thumbs-up.  “I always forget how nice you clean up for a human, MC!  You’re officially fashionable enough to stand by my side!”

You blush ever so slightly, but before Mammon can notice, you busy yourself by emptying your backpack of any school-related content.  That way, you have an empty bag to carry as you go shopping.  “And if I don’t want to stand by your side, Mammon?” you tease.  

The demon’s face flushes with a blush even deeper than yours.  “O—of course, you want to be by my side! I’m the Great Mammon, don’t you forget that!”

You smile as you take out your last notebook from your bag.  “Okay, I’m ready to go shopping with you,” you say, putting your backpack on.  “Let’s go.”

“Say it with a little more enthusiasm, will ya?” Mammon complains as he opens the door to let you through. 

You shake your head, smile, and decide to tease him some more.  “Fine. Let's go!”

“That’s not the part I said to be more enthusiastic about!”

-

Chapter 2

“Are you serious, Mammon?” Leviathan growls. “I already checked ahead—the Ruri-chan figurine, if you buy it in the Majolish collectibles department, is only four hundred and fifty thousand Grimm. I’m not paying you a cent more.”

Mammon waves his hand nonchalantly. “And if I ain’t mistaken, Levi, ya want this figure today, right?”

Levi grinds his teeth. “Right.”

“Well, then! Ya want me to go buy it for you today, you pay me my two hundred and twenty-five thousand Grimm labor fee!”

“I’m not paying you that much Grimm extra.”

“Then go buy it yourself!”

“I can’t. I have to finish this gaming campaign today. I already put it off long enough, and it’s not my fault that the Ruri-chan neko maid figure releases today, too!  It's gonna sell out, fast!”

“Then pay me my damn labor fee!”

“You just made that up, and I already told you—I’m not paying you that much, you ass!”

And on they go.  

You’ve been listening to the two brothers argue for the past fifteen minutes. You had thought by now maybe Mammon and you would have gotten a start on his shopping, but no, he had insisted on barging into Levi’s room to see if he could make a little extra Grimm off of his younger brother before the two of you left.  

“You’re scum, Mammon, you know that?” Levi growls. He turns to you, pouting. “What about you, MC? Will you buy my precious Ruri-chan figurine for me?”

You sigh. “Give me the money, Levi. If I see the figure, I’ll buy it.”

The third-born demon grins. “Thanks! I knew I could count on you.”  

He rummages through the pocket of his coat and begins to count out the right amount of Grimm. Once he has enough bills, he hands the stack to you, but before you can grab it, the money is intercepted by Mammon.

“I’ll hold onto that for you, MC,” Mammon assures, a coy smile lighting his face. “You don’t have any pockets in that sweatshirt.”

You smile sardonically and pull Levi’s money back. You know better than to trust Mammon, the Avatar of Greed with money of all things. Secrets? Maybe. Schemes? Definitely. Being a tsundere idiot? There was no one more capable. But money? You’d be rivaling him in idiocy if you did that.  

“It’s fine; I got it,” you promise, sliding the money into the deepest pocket in your backpack.

Levi scowls at Mammon as you two leave. “Please die.”

-

“Here we are, MC!” Mammon grins, waving his hand for you to take in all the scenery. “The most expensive shopping district in all of the Devildom!”

You look around at your surroundings; it was a horribly gaudy site. There are huge building complexes, studded with stores selling items from the most famous brands in the world. What really brings out the garishness of the location is that every store seems to be covered in gold.

There’s a gilded Ralph Goren shop, a Chanhell showroom that sparkles with a yellow brighter than the sun, and even a Burbury emporium that glitters with a fine flaxen coating.  

“Why … why does everything look like this?” you can’t help but ask.

Mammon, who had been staring lovingly at the lurid buildings, looks over at you, pulled out of his reverie. “What? Oh, the gold? It’s just to show how expensive everything is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, MC,” Mammon explains, suddenly grabbing your hand as he leads you further into the shining abyss. “All this stuff—” He gestures toward all the name-brand stores. “You can find in any of the regular couture shopping districts in the Devildom. However, the stuff sold here specifically—the very same stuff in all the other stores—is more expensive.  The buildings are all covered in gold to represent that.  It’s great, huh?”

You dig your heels in the ground. “Wait … you mean … you’re only shopping here … because it’s expensive?”

“Duh! Things that cost more make ya look cool.” He yanks your hand harder to get you moving again. “Not that I need help looking cool or anythin.’”

“Of course.”

Wow, you realize. He really lives up to his title of the Avatar of Greed.

“Oh! Look over there! Silver-plated spurs! Let’s go see if they have ‘em in bronze or somethin’—silver kinda clashes with my look, y’know? And holy crap, they’re selling diamond insoles for your slippers in that store! Can’t imagine they’d be comfortable, but still, why wouldn’t you want ‘em?”

Before you know it, you and Mammon are standing in line for the register at Versucky, with the second-born demon holding at least seven or eight different, high-end items, all of which you wonder if he has any use for.  

“I know what you’re thinking, MC,” Mammon says, looking at your confused expression. “How much money does the Great Mammon make from modeling if he can afford to buy this much stuff?”

You want to point out that that was not in fact, what you were wondering, but he barrels on ahead.

“Well, a lot, of course, ‘cause y’know, I got all this.” He gestures toward his body sensuously. “But still, even if it’s not enough, I got my beloved Goldie!” Mammon shuffles all his desired items to one hand, and with the other, whips out a shiny black credit card from his pocket.

Your eyes widen. “Didn’t Lucifer confiscate that from you two days ago?”

“Yeah,” Mammon admits. “But I found it. He left it in one of the oysters in Levi’s aquarium—don’t ask how I figured it out.”

You shake your head and can’t help but smile at his rebelliousness. You wonder how Lucifer is going to punish Mammon for his craftiness this time.

As you and he reach the front of the line, Mammon suddenly drops everything he’s holding. “Oh, crap.”

You reach to pick up all the items that had tumbled to the ground. “What?”

“Well … “ Mammon scratches the back of his neck, a slight blush coming over his tan skin. “I just realized that I promised I’d buy ya somethin’ if you came with me, and heh, here you are.”

“It’s okay, Mammon; you don't need to get me anything,” you reassure him. You hadn’t really expected him to keep his end of the bargain, and honestly, you didn’t really care. You hadn’t actually needed anything from the store, and in fact, the only reason you had tagged along was, well, for the company … and the fact that Mammon wouldn’t have shut up if you hadn’t.  

“No, it’s not,” he says. He grabs your wrist and leads you out of Versucky. “I said I’d buy ya somethin’ and that’s what I’m gonna do. Here, we’ll buy whatever you want first, so then I’ll know how much Grimm I have left to spend.”

“But you don’t have to worry about how much money you can spend,” you remind him. “You have Goldie.”

Mammon’s blush deepens. “W—well, yeah, I know!” He looks down, grinding his heel into the ground. “But I just remembered that Lucifer put a control lock on her that notifies him every time she’s being used, and then he’ll know I took her back.” His head whips up immediately. “And just so y’know, it ain’t like I’m afraid of him, or anythin;’ I just figured not using her would be the smarter thing to do, that’s all!” 

You smile at his display. “If you say so.”

“Wh—what! Ya don’t believe me?”

“No, no, of course, I do.” 

“You—you better!” He coughs and tries to regain his composure. “Now, where do you wanna go? Unless ya wanted to shop at Versucky, ‘cause I guess we could go back in there.” 

“I’m not really sure,” you admit. Even in the human world, you weren’t very familiar with couture brands, and you’re even more lost in the Devildom. Your eyes scan the apparently endless miles of gilded shops until you spot a strange blip of steel gray in the sea of gold. “What’s that?”

Mammon squints in the direction you point. “Never seen that store before in my life. Kinda gross, though. The whole ashy color scheme really clashes with the rest of the buildings here.”

To be honest, you find the dull color of the edifice somewhat soothing compared to the sheer gaudiness of its surroundings. You begin to make your way over to it, Mammon in tow.

“Thrifty’s Cheap Finds,” Mammon reads as you near the building. He dry heaves. “Cheap finds? What is this? Some kind of lame way to attract broke-ass degenerates like …” He trails off when he sees your raised eyebrow and blushes. “I wasn’t gonna end that sentence with ‘you,’ I swear! Calm down!”

You shake your head and don’t respond as you enter the store. As you begin to wander around the shop, not even Mammon can keep his jaw from falling open in wonder. Inside Thrifty’s Cheap Finds is everything from hairspray to mattresses to books to cookie sheets—all of them branded with human company labels.  

“No wonder everything here is so cheap,” Mammon realizes. “No one in the Devildom wants human stuff. Well, unless you’re Satan and Lucifer and like all that antique crap.”

You resist the desire to glare at him and instead pore through everything in the shop, your eyes never failing to examine each item. It’s been months since you’ve been home and seen any of these types of knickknacks.  

A wave of homesickness washes over you as you finger a timeless gingham tablecloth, as Mammon ambles off to the electronics section, which is filled with ancient-looking cellphones and computers. 

You swallow the feeling away before it can cause a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes. You wander farther down, realizing that all the mismatched pots and pans mean that this is the cooking aisle.  

You pause in the section of this aisle that displays cookbooks and remember the miserable look on Beelzebub’s face earlier today. Perhaps, you wonder, there is something in here that would cheer him up.

The cookbooks are all in disarray, and you shuffle through the many stacks of them several times before you find a book that you think Beel would like. You flip through the cookbook and nod in approval; the pictures are large and detailed and the human recipes are quick, simple and hearty—perfect for the always hungry Avatar of Gluttony.  

You flip the book over and read the price tag. “Nine thousand Grimm.”  

You worry that that’s too much, especially since you remember Satan once mentioning that books from the human world usually weren’t economical. You haven’t really gotten the idea of how much a single Grimm is worth yet, and you keep hearing Mammon’s voice in your head, insisting that whatever you buy today be cheap.  

“Hey, what’cha got there, MC?” Mammon asks, materializing as if on cue. “This what you want?” He grabs the book from your hands and gives it a mildly disgusted look. “A cookbook?”

“It’s for Beel,” you say, defensively.

Mammon raises an eyebrow. “The only demon ya should be buying stuff for is me, but I’ll let it slide this time.” He too flips the book over. You grimace nervously as his eyes widen when he sees the price.

“I’ll put it back if it’s too expens—” you begin, pulling it away.

Mammon blushes. “Ar—are you kidding, MC? When I said to buy something cheap earlier, I didn’t actually mean it! Hell, I’m willing to splurge on ya if you really want somethin!’ You didn’t actually have to go find something this dirt-cheap!”

Huh, so nine thousand Grimm is considered inexpensive, you note. You smile at Mammon’s uncharacteristic generosity. “It’s okay, I really do want this.”

He runs a hand through his hair and tries to regain his composure, but to no avail. “Y—you sure? I mean—if ya wanna get somethin’ from Ralph Goren or somethin,’ I’m cool with that!”

You hold the cookbook to your chest and nod. “I’m sure.” You grab his hand and lead him to the register.

As Mammon pays the nine thousand Grimm to the lanky demon clerk, he shakes his head and looks at you. “You really are something else, y’know that, MC?”

-

Chapter 3

As soon as you and Mammon return home, you walk over to Leviathan’s room and knock on his door.  Hung on your wrist is a bag from a store called, Look At Me, I’m a Stupid Otaku (or at least, that’s what Mammon had told you the building sign had said.  You don’t know how to read Japanese.), which held a Ruri-chan figurine. “Levi? It’s me, MC.”

“Come in,” the third-born demon calls. 

You open the door, only to see Levi slouched over on his computer.  You take the figurine out of the bag. “Where do you want this?”

“Oh, is that my darling Ruri-chan?” he asks, his eyes never leaving the screen.  “You can bring it here. Sorry, I’d come over and get it myself, but there are only two minutes left on this boss stage, and he still has half of his HP left.”

You bring the figure to his desk and leave it next to what looks like a box of granola bars.  “Super high-energy chocolate-covered cricket snacks,” you read. “Now with extra protein.” You blanch because despite living in the Devildom for a while, you still have yet to become accustomed to the food.  

“Yeah, sometimes when I’m really in the gaming zone, I don’t leave my room for days, not even to get meals and stuff lololol, so I keep those here if I get hungry.”

“Can I have one?”  You are planning to check in on Beel after making this stop to Levi’s room, and realize that it would be better to show up with food.

His eyes glued to his computer, Levi nods.  “Go for it.”  

As you reach into the box to take one, Levi suddenly turns toward you, even though you can see the timer counting down on his game.  “Better take the whole box. Beel’s not gonna be satisfied with just one.” He sighs. “Everyone’s been kinda worried about him, you know?  He’s been down all day, but he’s not saying anything to anyone, not even Belphie.” He perks up. “But! If there is someone who can make him feel better, it’s you, MC!”

You smile at his worry for his brother.  “Thanks, Leviathan.” You stuff the box into your backpack.

He nods, before turning back to his game, frowning when he realizes that the onscreen timer read 00:00 and he hadn’t been able to finish off the boss.  “He’s in the gym.”

“Of course,” you say, as you leave his room.

-

Just as Levi had said, you find Beel in the House of Lamentation’s fully-equipped gym. 

The sixth-born demon is sitting cross-legged in front of an elliptical, a towel slung across his shoulders.  Unsurprisingly, his twin—Belphegor—is with him, napping with his head resting on Beel’s lap.  

Beel frowns nervously when he sees you.  “Oh, hi, MC.” He sighs. “ I guess you’re not here to tell Belphie how cute he looks sleeping like this. ”

You cock your head curiously.  “I can if you want me to.”

Beel shakes his head.  “I was just checking to see if he's awake.”

“Ah,” you realize, sitting down next to him.  “Is there something that you don’t want Belphie to hear?”

Beel nods but doesn’t say anything more.  Instead, he fiddles with the hem of his rather tight-fitting tank top.  You try not to stare at the bulging silhouette of his abs that show through.  “It’s funny,” he begins. “When either of us is upset, I get less hungry, but Belphie becomes more sleepy.”  

You remember learning of the twins’ connection a few days earlier.  The two had a bond so strong that they sometimes shared each other’s feelings, and if one had an extreme emotion, the other would often experience it, too.  You put a hand on his arm. “What are you so upset about, Beel?”

He groans.  “It’s nothing, really.”

You decide to try a different tactic.  “You’re worrying your brothers,” you admit gently.

“I know.”  Beel takes a deep breath.  Twisting around, he pulls out his navy backpack from behind the elliptical.  After rummaging through it for a moment, he pulls out a telltale Physics IV: Mind Over Matter textbook.  He flips to the end of the book and releases a packet of paper, which he hands to you.

You examine it for a moment, surprised to see in obnoxious red ink, the phrase F - sprawled across the front.  Maybe stick to lifting weights, meathead is written underneath it.  Although the words cause your blood to boil, you swallow your anger and calmly move your hand up to Beel’s shoulder.  “You’re upset because you did bad on a test?”

Beel slouches, his back sliding down one of the supports of the elliptical.  He continues to fiddle with his shirt and doesn’t meet your eyes. “It’s not just that,” he confesses.  “If I fail another one, my professor is going to make me repeat the subject.” He sighs. “Belphie’s always helped me study in Physics; we almost always have the same class schedule—except I take Weights and he takes regular P.E—and he always made sure I knew the material.”

“But Belphie doesn’t go to R.A.D this year,” you realize.  “He’s supposed to be enrolled in a human school for the exchange program.”

“Yeah,” Beel sighs.  “I can’t ask him to learn the information at home with me—I know he would if I asked—he’s already been through so much this year.”  He gulps. “Lucifer is going to be so mad when he finds out I’m failing.”

“Why can’t you just get a tutor, like Mammon does?”

“You see how everyone makes fun of him because of that.”

You want to point out that Mammon usually brought the teasing upon himself  and justified it with his unrelenting moronness, but an idea strikes you instead.  “Hey, I 'm in Physics IV, too.  Why don’t we study together?”

Beel’s face lights up.  “Really, MC? You’d do that?” 

You laugh as you hear his stomach growl in excitement.  “Of course!” You remember the cricket snacks you took from Levi’s room and begin to take the box out of your backpack.  You see the cookbook you bought for him and take that out, too. “You’re hungry, now?”

He grins sheepishly.  “Yes, I’m famished!”

“Look here, I brought you snacks,” you say, handing the box to him.  “Thank Levi next time you see him.”

Beel immediately rips open a package and begins to eat.  “Hi wroh.” He swallows, and repeats, “I will. Thanks to you, too.”  He looks at the cookbook in your hand curiously. “What’s that?”

You place the book in his lap, balancing it precariously on Belphegor’s head.  “It’s a cookbook from the human world. I bet it has all kinds of recipes for foods you haven’t tried before.”

Beel grabs another cricket snack as his eyes widen.  “I haven’t eaten many human foods before.  Let’s look at it together.”

You nod, opening the book and flipping the page as Beel munches.  

“Haha,” he laughs.  “Angel Food Cake. Maybe we should make some for Simeon and Luke.”  

You smile and turn to the following page.  The next recipe is for Devil’s Food Cake. “Or maybe you can make this one for dessert someday.  Or this one—look—Deviled Eggs.”

��Those look good.”  Opening another snack, Beel suggests, “Hey, MC, I’m on dinner duty tomorrow.  Want to help me cook some of these foods? Or maybe, I can cook and you can help me study?”

“That sounds like a good idea, Beel,” you muse.  “What do you think we should make, then?”

“Well, Satan won’t eat animals, Leviathan refuses to eat seafood, and Belphie—” He pats his brother on the head.  “—doesn’t like to eat beef or veal. If we use any of those, we probably have to substitute the meat with other things.”

You and Beel pore through the cookbook for several hours, finally deciding on Deviled Eggs as appetizers, Garlic Parmesan Risotto and Savory Mashed Potatoes for the main course, and Black Forest Cake for dessert.  

“This will be fun,” Beel promised, yawning.  “I’ll pick up the ingredients after school tomorrow.”

You curse the contagiousness of yawns as you yawn, too, feeling your eyes grow heavy.  You can feel Beel’s head rest on your shoulder as he begins to snore lightly. Without thinking, you lean your head to the right, feeling Beel’s under you.  You promise yourself that you won’t fall asleep as you close your eyes and mutter, “Sounds … like a … plan.”

-

Chapter 4

“I’m gonna kill him,” Mammon whispers, his voice low and colder than ice as you, him, and Beel huddle over your D.D.D.  “I’m really gonna kill him.”

Beel frowns at his elder brother.  “Why are you so upset? You’re not even in the picture.”

“Yeah, if anyone should be mad, it’s me, Beel, or Belphie,” you comment, zooming in on the photo, which had been taken yesterday.  

It was from when you and Beel had fallen asleep together as you two pored over the cookbook you had bought for him.  Strangely enough, Asmodeus—who had both taken and posted the photo—was in the picture, as well; he was posing as if he had been napping sweetly on your shoulder the whole time.  To everyone’s surprise, the only one “awake” in the photo appeared to be Belphie, who had wriggled his way from lying in Beel’s lap to having his legs rest on his brother while his torso and head were sprawled all over your lap.  He was too deeply engrossed in reading Beel’s new cookbook to notice his brother taking the picture. Asmodeus captioned the photo, Just getting a bit of beauty sleep with my babes 😘. 

“Yes, you should!”  Mammon says. “ Why aren’t you, by the way?  This photo is a total invasion of your privacy!”  He whirls toward Beel, his eyebrows downturned in anger.  “And what’s the big idea, Beel? Sleepin’ on MC’s shoulder like that?”  He puts a hand on your head patronizingly. “You shouldn’t touch anyone like that without their permission!”

Beel smiles.  “Well, I think MC looks cute in this photo!  And it’s not my fault that we fell asleep like that.”

Mammon rolls his eyes.  “Well, I’m still gonna kill Asmo for postin’ it.”  He taps on your Devilgram feed to unlike the photo.  “Anyway, why’d ya call me here?” he asks, gesturing toward the Hall of Lamentation’s kitchen.  

“No one called you here,” you remind him, taking a seat at the kitchen table.  You reach down, grab your backpack and pull out the cookbook you had bought for Beel, as well as your copy of Physics IV: Mind Over Matter.

“Yeah,” Beel agrees, his mouth downturned in a frown.  “You just heard that MC was going to be in the kitchen helping me cook and decided to come along.”

Blushing, Mammon takes a seat next to you.  “Maybe I just wanted to help ya cook, Beel.”

“No way.”  Beel sticks out his arms, barring him from entering the kitchen.  “You’re not helping me cook. If you cook, I won’t eat it.”

“Okay, okay, fine, jeez.”

As you flip through the cookbook to find the recipes that you and Beel had decided to make yesterday, Mammon grabs your Physics textbook, whipping through it boredly.  “Why’d ya bring your textbook to the kitchen? You having trouble in Physics and want to study here or somethin’? ‘Cause if you are, never fear—The Mammon is here!”

You look at Beel—who glances at you nervously—from the corner of your eyes.  You yank the textbook away from Mammon. “You’re not even taking Physics.”

“Yeah, I’m taking Chemistry, and have a C in it, so I’m still passing—so what?”

“How are you supposed to teach me Physics when you’re not even in it?”

“MC!  Don’t doubt the Great Mammon’s abilities!”

“Oh yeah?  Does the Great Mammon know the formula for … angular acceleration?”

“The change in angular speed divided by the change in time,” Beel pipes up, as he hovers over the stove, checking for the water to boil for his Deviled Eggs.

Mammon laughs and waves his hand at his brother.  “Don’t be ridiculous, Beel.” He turns to you. “C’mon, MC, don’t mess around with me.  I know ‘angular acceleration’ isn’t even a real word.”  

You turn to the glossary in the back of your book and point to the term with the formula next to it, which Beel had recited.  “Seems like the Great Mammon’s abilities have failed him.” You watch Mammon blush furiously and smile. “And besides, Beel and I are having a Physics study session, since we’re both in the class.”

“And we’re not getting much studying done with you here,” Beel quips.  He retrieves four dozen eggs from the refrigerator and begins to carefully drop them into the boiling water on the stove with a ladle.

You do a double-take and glance at the cookbook.  “Beel, the serving information here says that to serve eight people you only need sixteen eggs, at the most.”

Mammon and Beel shake their heads.  

“If my brothers are going to get a chance to eat anything, we’re going to have to make this many,” Beel decides.  He hoists up a giant pot of potatoes that had been already boiling on the stove and plops it in front of Mammon, handing him a potato masher.  “Mash these.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to cook anything,” Mammon whines.  

“Yes, because whatever you make tastes gross.  Mashing the potatoes isn’t cooking anything, so you can do just that.”

Mammon grumbles something that sounds curse word-y, but stands up and begins to work the masher into the potatoes.  “Just for that, I’m making ‘em creamy. No lumps.” He whispers to you, “Beel loves lumpy potatoes.”

“Fine, Belphie will like it smooth, anyway,” Beel assures.  He walks over to the refrigerator and yanks out an entire wheel of parmesan cheese.  He sets it in front of you and hands you a cheese grater. “Can you shred this cheese, MC?  I’m about to start getting the arborio rice for the risotto ready and the whole process is going to take a while.”

Your eyes widen.  He wants me to grate the entire wheel of parmesan.  “Sure, but what about our … you know, study session?”  You had promised to help Beel with Physics, and you were by no means going to forget about it.

“Ask me questions as we go?  Sorry, I didn’t realize how much there was to do,” he says sheepishly.  

You nod, laying your Physics textbook flat open to Chapter Seven, which was your assigned reading for your next class.  

You cut off a block of cheese and begin to run it against the serrated surface of the cheese grater for several hours, asking Beel problem after problem from the book.  He stumbles on quite a few of them, but you correct him only if you know how to—after all, you yourself aren't a master in Physics. The ones you don’t are questions that you skip, mentally circling them to come back to later.  

Every so often, Beel grabs a scoop of the mound of grated parmesan that you have shredded and adds it to his pot of risotto.  Surprisingly, Mammon also throws several handfuls of cheese into his potatoes, as he mashes them until they are so smooth that you were sure that not even an ant would be able to find the tiniest lump.

Beel doesn’t notice that Mammon adds the rest of the ingredients in the recipe to the potatoes—copious amounts of cream, whole stalks of herbs, salt, and more butter than you have ever seen in your life, and stirs them together.  

“Beel says he won’t eat anythin’ I make ‘cause he’ll hate it,” Mammon explains to you when you stare at him for disobeying his brother’s explicit orders of doing nothing but mashing the potatoes.  He smirks. “But wait ‘till he gets a load of these.  They’re gonna be great.”

You roll your eyes at the mischievous demon, wondering how his little fling with deviancy is going to bite him this time. 

“Okay, time to assemble the cake,” Beel announces, plopping all forty-eight freshly-piped Deviled Eggs onto the table, along with a steaming casserole filled with Garlic Parmesan Risotto.  “MC, can you sprinkle the rest of the cheese on top?”  

As you begin to do just that, he brings over three round German chocolate cakes, a bowl of whipped cream, and a dish filled with cherries macerated in sugar.  One of the three cakes is already topped with a layer of cream and cherries.  

“I hate cherries,” Mammon grumbles.

As if on cue, Asmodeus walks by.  “That’s why you’ve never popped one.”

You stifle your laughter as Mammon’s face turns a very unbecoming shade of red.  “Asmo!”  He sprints after his brother, leaving you and Beel alone in the kitchen.  “I was already gonna kill you once, but now I’m gonna kill you twice! C’mere, you bastard!”

You turn towards Beel, who is putting the third layer of cake onto the growing tower and covering it with whipped cream.  

Putting his spatula down, Beel looks at you.  “MC, thanks so much for helping me today—with the food, with the studying, with everything.”  He looks down. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

You smile at him.  “It’s no problem, Beel!”

“No, really,” Beel insists, staring into your eyes with an intensity that sends shivers all the way down to your toes and causes you to flush pink.  “I feel so much more confident now in Physics. I think if I took a quiz today, I’d at least know enough to pass.”

“I’m just glad I could help,” you say honestly.  

Beel grins and carefully lifts the Black Forest Cake by its base and puts it on a cake pedestal.  “It’s time to put all this food in the dining room,” he says. He then notices Mammon’s mashed potatoes.  He frowns as he sees the green herb fragments, signifying that his brother had done something other to the potatoes than simply mash them as he had told him to.  He dips a spoon into the pot and tastes them.  Beel’s face becomes a blazing inferno. “I’m going to eat him.”

“What?” you ask, noticing the sudden shift in his mood.

“Sugar.”

“Sugar?”

“He put … sugar … in the Savory Mashed Potatoes.” 

THE END   

[madpanda75]

I've got a twofer for you 73: “ Oh, Are you ticklish? ” and 182: “ Ive wanted this for so long. ” the concept is that Rafael has a girlfriend who is a virgin and she finally decides that she wants to lose it on Valentine's day

Thanks for your request, sweetie!! I hope you like this, I had a lot fun writing it! ❤️🥰 Sorry I’m a little late with this since Valentine’s Day.

Warning: NSFW 

“The First Night”

Rafael stood behind you, playfully dropping kisses on your neck while lightly prodding your sides.

“Raf! Stop!” You said in a fit of laughter, trying to squirm away and focus on putting the final touches on your ropa vjeja.

“Oh, are you ticklish?” He asked, continuing his assault.

“You know I am. Why don’t you make yourself useful and go open a bottle of wine. Dinner’s almost ready,” you winked at your boyfriend.

Rafael sighed in defeat, “Ok, but only because I’m hungry.” He kissed your lips once more before grabbing the merlot, uncorking the bottle and pouring two glasses just as you placed the food on the table.

It was Valentine’s Day, a day where romantic restaurants all over Manhattan were jam packed with couples celebrating their love. Rather than fight the crowds and be inundated with nylon red balloons and cheesy pink hearts, you opted to invite Rafael over for a quiet night in. You had even gotten his abuela’s ropa vjeja recipe for the occasion.

Rafael moaned around a mouthful of food, “Y/N, this is amazing.”

“Really?” You had gone to three different supermarkets to get the ingredients for the dish. Having never cooked Cuban food before, you wanted the meal to be perfect.

“Don’t tell my mom, and I’ll deny it if you ever do, but this is better than hers.”

You beamed with pride, “I promise I won’t tell.”

Rafael and you had only been together for 6 months but never in your life had you felt so connected to another human being. It was as if you both had known each other your entire lives.

For him, you were like a breath of fresh air. Having had his heart broken before, he had closed that chapter of his life, believing he would never find love again, until he met you.

After dinner, you watched as Rafael lovingly fingered the pages of the book you had gotten him for Valentine’s Day. It was a first edition copy of Slaughterhouse Five signed by Kurt Vonnegut.

“Do you like your present?”

Rafael took your hand and smiled brightly at you, “I love it, cariño. Thank you so much. Where did you even find this?”

“I have my ways,” you smirked. “Happy Valentine’s Day, mi amor.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, mi vida. I love you,” he leaned over, placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

“I love you too,” you softly said.

Just as you were about to clean up from dinner, the lights in your apartment flickered for a few seconds before going out completely. “What the hell?” You said, standing in your kitchen, flicking the light switch on and off.

“Must be a power outage,” Rafael looked out the window, noticing the building across the street was also dark. “Do you have any candles?”

“Yeah, in the hallway closet,” you replied.

As Rafael lit some candles, you checked with your landlord. She confirmed there was an outage that was affecting your block and the power company was working on the situation as quickly as possible.

When you came back into your apartment you gasped at the scene before you. Piles of blankets and pillows laid on your living room floor, candles covered the end tables and coffee table, their soft light casting a romantic glow.

Rafael sat in the middle of the impromptu oasis he had created, smiling at you, “Is it too much?”

You shook your head, “No, it’s perfect.”

He patted the spot next to him, motioning you over. You happily obliged, laying your legs over his, kissing him deeply.

After a moment, he pulled away, “You know I never got the chance to give you your present.” Reaching into his pocket, he took out a small red velvet pouch, placing it in your hand. Rafael watched you open the pouch, pulling out a key. “It’s a key to my apartment. I know it’s only been 6 months, but I was hoping you would want to move in with me.”

You stared at him, utterly speechless, your lease was up in a month so it was perfect timing. “Yes! Yes, of course I’ll move in with you, ” you broke out into a brilliant smile before lunging at him, causing him to fall backwards with you in his arms.

He held you close, laughing against your lips as he kissed you. The kiss quickly began to gain momentum, his hands roaming your form. He rolled over so you were beneath him, his tongue brushing up against your own. You softly moaned, tugging on his bottom lip, your leg hooking around his hip. He whimpered, nipping at your jawline.

“Rafael, make love to me,” you whispered breathlessly.

As soon as those words escaped your lips, he stopped, knowing that you were a virgin and the weight that simple request carried. You had been seriously contemplating giving him your virginity, deciding that tonight would be the night you took your relationship to the next level.  

Men balked when you dropped the big V-bomb on them, all but sprinting out the door. It was always the same story, they would lament that sex is a critical part of a relationship. While you agreed that sex was important, it wasn’t the only component of a relationship. You wanted to wait until you were in love, truly, deeply in love to share that part of you, that physical intimacy with someone.

After you first told Rafael about your virgin state, you promptly showed him to the door, expecting him to flee just like the others. Instead you were surprised to discover that he shared your sentiments about wanting to wait until you were in love to have sex. He was incredibly patient and sweet, allowing you to set the pace as you both got to know each other better.

With Rafael, you wanted him to see all of you. There was a deep rooted connection between you both, a love that made you feel safe to be vulnerable and exposed. It was a love like no other, one that neither of you had experienced until now.

He looked down at you with his hypnotic green eyes, gently stroking your cheek, “Are you sure? Just because I asked you to move in with me….I don’t want you to feel pressured into this.”

“Of course I’m sure. I’ve wanted this for so long. I’ve waited for so long,” you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his hair as you pulled him into a feverish kiss. “I want you,” you purred against his mouth.

“You have me. I’m yours, mi amor,” he groaned.

Rafael moved to stand up. Taking your hands, he helped to get you to your feet, gifting you a slow sensual kiss, pulling you flush to his body. You melted into his touch, your tongue seeking entrance into the warm confines of his mouth.

He hummed against your lips, his hands sliding down your back to cup your ass and lift you into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing him hard as he carried you to the bedroom.

Your heart was beating so fast, it was practically pounding out of your chest when he set you down at the foot of the bed. “This is real. This is actually happening,” you thought to yourself.

Rafael cupped your face, sensing that you were anxious. “Hey, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You softly smiled, “I know, but I want to. I’m just nervous.”

He placed tender kisses on your face and leaned his forehead against yours, “I’m nervous too. We’ll go slow.” Kissing you again, his fingers brushed under your shirt before tugging it off your body. His hands moving around to unsnap your bra. “Is this ok?” He asked.

“Yes,” you whispered.

Rafael lowered your bra straps, taking a minute to drink you in. Dipping his head down, he placed a kiss on your pulse point, before tracing your collarbone with his tongue.

Your breath hitched. Rubbing your thighs together, you could feel your desire for him begin to get stronger. Your fingers trembled as you began to unbutton his shirt. Rafael’s chest rose and fell rapidly, watching you push the shirt off his shoulders. You ran your hands across his bare chest, running your fingers through his chest hair, feeling his muscles tighten under your touch.

Your palm rested over his chest, you could feel how fast his heart was beating, matching the same rapid pace as yours. You looked up into his eyes and pulled him into a hungry kiss. His lips moved over yours more insistently as his fingertips trailed down your ribcage towards the waistband of your skirt.

You moaned, your tongues dancing with each other as you blindly searched for the button to his slacks. While you were working on ridding him of his pants, he unzipped your skirt, pushing it off your frame. Rafael moved to gently lay you on the bed. Hovering above you, he kissed down the column of your throat.

“Rafael,” you whimpered, arching your hips up, grinding into his erection. This was the farthest you had ever gone with a man. In the past you were always too scared and unsure to take it any further, but not tonight. Laying in Rafael’s arms, you had never been so sure of anything in your life.

A fire began to burn deep in your belly, your flesh becoming heated when you stopped, “Rafael, the candles!” He stared down at you in confusion, his eyebrows furrowed. “In the other room, we left them burning,” you explained, afraid that your living room would be engulfed in flames.

A realization spread to his face, ‘Don’t move. I’ll get them.” He scurried out of the room, almost tripping over the discarded clothes on the floor as he hurried to blow out the candles in the living room. You let out a long sigh and closed your eyes, listening to the sounds of the city outside your window. The sirens, the horns, the sounds of people living their everyday lives, it was soothing, an urban lullaby.

Rafael came back into the room. His heart skipped a beat when he saw you laying on the bed, eyes closed, hair fanned out on the sheets, the moonlight casting a glow on your figure. You looked like an angel.

“My God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered with a lustful look in his eyes.

You opened your eyes and sat up on the bed, pulling down his boxer briefs, freeing his caged erection. Your eyes widened when you saw his hard cock, a drop of precum oozing from his slit. “You’re so big,” you blurted out.

He blushed and snorted a laugh, “Thank you.”

“I can’t believe I just said that,” you covered your face in embarrassment, only to have him gently pull your hands away, peppering your face in adoring kisses.

“Don’t be embarrassed. Tonight is about you. I want to make you feel good,” he softly said, stroking your cheek. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too,” you said, kissing him slow and sweet, laying back, bringing him down on top of you. Tentatively, you reached down and wrapped your hand around him, he felt hot and heavy in your grip. He moaned, nibbling on your neck as you stroked his cock, rubbing his precum up and down his shaft. You moved a little faster, tightening your hold on him, experimentally, adding a twist with every downward stroke.

“Oh fuck, cariño,” he groaned, arching his hips into your touch. He kissed you, growling against your mouth, gently tugging on your bottom petal.

On your own accord, you spread your legs for him. His lips began a fiery trail down your body. He cupped your breast, blowing cool air on your nipple. Watching it harden under his command, he circled your areola with his tongue before taking it into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on the hardened bud. You gasped, writhing under his touch, arching your back as he repeated his actions on the other breast.

He continued to leave wet open mouth kisses down your stomach as the backs of his fingers slid up the side of your legs towards your hips, “Your skin is so soft,” he purred, dragging his tongue across your bikini line. He settled himself in between your legs, groaning when he saw the dark wet patch of arousal that had soaked through your panties. Kissing the juncture where your hip and thigh met, his head was centimeters away from your lace covered labia.

You laid back on the bed, taking in large gulps of air, desperate for his touch. “Raf…please touch me,” you begged.

He ran his nose up your slit, inhaling deeply, tugging your panties off and tossing them aside. The heady scent of your wet sex made his cock twitch with excitement.

“You smell delicious,” he purred, spreading your lower lips, exposing your glistening pink pearl to him, his hand lightly stroking the quivering soft flesh. Dipping his head, he placed a kiss right on your clit before pulling the nub deep into the depths of his mouth.

You practically jumped off the bed, never having experienced the sensation of someone’s mouth on your sensitive feminine parts.

“Try to relax, cariño,” Rafael said, kissing your inner thigh. You nodded your head and laid back, losing yourself in the thralls of ecstasy.

Rafael licked a broad stripe up your slit, sucking on your labia, the wet squelch of his actions filled the room. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you moaned and arched your hips. He traced your entrance with his tongue, flicking against it rapidly, groaning as your sweet taste flooded his mouth, the vibrations shooting right through your core. You draped your legs over his shoulders, trying to pull him closer.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watched him make love to your pussy with his mouth. His eyes met yours as he massaged your bundle of nerves, moaning against you. Your cheeks tinged bright pink, breath coming in heavy pants. Watching him pleasure you was the most erotic and sensual experience of your life.

“Please…more,” you sobbed, tangling your fingers in his hair. He wound his arms around your thighs, nodding his head between your legs, his chin coated in your arousal. “Oh Raf! You make me so wet, I can’t stand it,” you blushed at your words. What was this man doing to you?

Rafael smirked and brought a finger under his chin, slowly plunging it into your sheath, your arousal allowing it to easily slide in. He continued stimulating your clit, your muscles relaxing against his digit before slowly sliding it in and and out of your opening.

“Fuck,” you whined, the sensation of his large finger pumping into your center left you wanting more.

“Does that feel good?” He asked in a husky voice, watching as you began to move against him.

“Yes…oh God..yes,” you moaned. Rafael increased his suction on your clit, adding another finger, thrusting them in and out of you, mimicking the way he would fuck you with his cock.

Unable to keep your head up, you collapsed on the bed, your eyes slipping close, mouth open in an “o” form as your muscles pulled him in deeper, your body rocking back and forth against him. He pulled his fingers out of you, turning them towards him and plunging back in, crooking them upward in a come hither motion, wiggling them against your g-spot.

Your walls fluttered against him, tension building in the pit of of your stomach. Your moans were louder and more high pitched. Rafael was relentless, working his fingers inside you while gently nibbling on your clit, moaning and groaning. One final stroke and you were coming hard, a low guttural moan escaping your throat. Arching your back, you tugged hard on his hair, every muscle in your body contracting. Rafael hummed, licking you through your release, slowly pulling his fingers out.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, trying to calm yourself from such an intense orgasm. “You’ve got quite a mouth on you.”

Rafael chuckled and kissed his way back up your body. Craning your neck up, you kissed him hard, moaning when you tasted yourself on his tongue. You whimpered, feeling his rock hard erection brush up against your thigh. “Y/N, I need you,” he softly said against your lips. “Oh damn…umm I don’t have any condoms,” he froze and looked down at you apologetically.

“Don’t worry I have some,” you smiled and reached over into your nightstand, pulling out the biggest box of condoms Rafael had ever seen.

“Wow….”some” is an understatement. I’m shocked and incredibly happy all at the same time,” he said.

“I like to be prepared,” you giggled and handed him one.

He nuzzled his nose against yours, “One of the many reasons why I love you.” Ripping the condom packet open, he rolled the rubber onto his member. Rafael hovered above you, his eyes filled with love and adoration, “I’ll be gentle. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Tears filled your eyes, gazing up at the man you loved. “Its ok, mi amor. I trust you, ” you tilted your head to kiss his forearm framing your face.

Rafael ran his cock up and down your slit, collecting your wetness before he pushed his crown against your entrance. You gasped, your eyes widening as you experienced this new sensation.

“Hold onto me, cariño. I’ve got you,” he whispered breathlessly.

Your nails dug into his skin, leaving half moon indentations. He pushed further until he was halfway inside you, stroking your hair, kissing over every inch of your face. Rafael leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in heavy pants, trying to calm himself. He clutched your shoulders so hard his knuckles were white. You were incredibly tight, your grip on him was beyond anything he had ever felt before. It took all his strength not to snap his hips and bury himself inside you.

After a few minutes, he slid the rest of the way in, burying his head in the crook of your neck, groaning loudly when your hips made contact. You mewled, clinging to Rafael. Your muscles stretched and strained, it felt like they would snap, trying to accommodate his large size. The fullness of his cock inside you settled into your bones. Nothing could have prepared you for that fine line you were walking between pain and pleasure.  

He lifted his head, gauging your reaction, searching for any signs of discomfort in your face, “Breathe, Y/N,” he said in a strained voice. “Are you ok? Do you want me to stop?”

“No…don’t stop. Don’t ever stop,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”

He kissed you fervently, licking into your mouth. After several minutes he slowly pulled out until only the head of his cock remained inside you before gently pushing back in. He shivered as he began to move against you, feeling your walls clench around him. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned.

“So do you,” you whimpered, your body beginning to yield to him, the smell of his cologne mixed with sweat was enough to drive you wild with lust.

Heavy breathing and pleasure filled moans filled the air as he quickened his pace. “Please more,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you.

Kissing your lips over and over again, he grunted against your mouth, thrusting into you a little harder, still trying to be as gentle as possible. He moved his hand between your bodies, rubbing circles over your clit. You cried out in ecstasy, your nails scratching down his back, “Oh God! Rafael….so good!”

He groaned, arching his hips to hit that delicious spot deep inside you, moving his fingers more insistently over your bundle of nerves. The heat coming off your joined bodies made it feel as if you were being forged in the fire. Your skin malleable under his touch, your body being pushed to the edge.

“Fuck! Please don’t stop!” You whined. Feeling close to orgasm, you covered your mouth with your hand, feeling shy about vocalizing your release.

Rafael pulled your hand away from your mouth, pinning both of your wrists above your head with his one large paw. “Don’t be ashamed. I want to hear you. Let me hear how good I make you feel,” he demanded in a husky voice. He lowered his head to suck on your nipple, his fingers rolling and pinching your clit as he moved a little faster against you.

You arched your back one final time, your orgasm all consuming, stars exploding before your eyes. “Rafael!” You screamed, falling apart beneath him. Feeling your muscles spasm and contract around him was enough to send him over the edge. He came harder than he ever had before, his lips capturing yours as he growled and groaned against your mouth.

He let go of your hands, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck, stroking you both through your release, his hips slowing to a stop. You clung to him, your body trembling, pulling him into a white hot kiss. He rested his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath, a sheen of sweat covering your bodies.

“I love you so much,” he nuzzled his nose against yours, running a hand through your hair.

“I love you too,” you whispered, tears falling down your cheeks. The emotion you felt at the moment was overwhelming. He kissed them away and held you before gently pulling out of you. Peeling off the used condom, he went to the bathroom to toss it in the trash. He settled back in bed, pulling you even closer to him, kissing your forehead, each eyelid, the tip of nose, and finally dropping a tender kiss on your lips.  

“How do you feel?” He asked, his fingertips dancing up and down your spine as you both laid together.

“Sore but…in a good way,” you sighed in contentment. “I’m so happy I waited for you.”

“I’m so happy I have you in my life. Tu eres la reina de mi corazón. Te amo,” Rafael kissed the top of your head.

“Te amo tambien,” you lazily kissed his skin before moving to straddle him. “Think we could go for round two in a few minutes?”

“You read my mind, cariño,” he said with a devious smirk. “Our first night together.”

“One of many,” you purred, pulling the covers over you both, kissing him passionately. Your heart was full. Every broken relationship, every moment where you doubted you would ever find love, it all led you to Rafael, the love of your life.  

@obfuscateyummy @southern-magnolia @beltzboys2015-blog @letty-o @sweetsummertime99 @sonnysdoll @lyssa1385 @burningsorr0ws @katmstanton @gibbs274 @izzythefanfreak @riodallas @eclecticminded @delia26 @glimmerglittergirl @sweetcannolicarisi @babypink224221 @amirightcounsellor @livxrafa

[avid-windex-consumer]

Hurricane

Yaz had often been in the eye of the storm growing up. Safer than those in the storm itself, but watching and the winds howled and fought against the rapids.

She'd been in the eye of the storm with Izzy Flint, who'd teased her relentlessly, but not enough to be considered bullying. She'd watched as her shallow friendships were consumed by the storm, raging and snapping.

She'd seen her family argue, words spat out to eachother, scathing and often venomous, tensed to puncture and hurt. Though arguments were frequent, she was considered the "good child" of her family, in comparison to Sonya, who was considered far too involved with boys, and makeup and parties.

So she'd watch, as each storm passed, and they did, they all passed eventually. Watching on the outskirts, just close enough to feel the winds and the splatter of salty water, to hear the howling and the raging.

But this, this was not a storm.

This was a hurricane.

-x-

2 Hours Earlier

"Come on then, fam! Let's get a shift on."

Yaz smiled to herself, heering the cheerful voice coming from the hallway. She turned to greet her friend, and was met with a brilliant smile.

Ryan and Graham were already ready, she noted, setting down her breakfast.

"Where are we going then?" Graham asked.

"Audryvel IV. It's a planet known for it's interesting people, cuisine, art, really, just about anything you could think of." The Doctor smiled, starting to press down button and clutch at the levers.

"Reason for that is, it's really just a blend of all the cultures from the three galaxies located around there, since they're very close."

The Tardis jolted, making her way through space and time, parting through stars. It really was beautiful, Yaz thought. The Tardis in itself was an amazing design, with it's pillars and glowing lights.

The sound of the Tardis breaks were heard, and the Doctor started to the door, pushing it open to reveal a hill with tan-colored grass overlooking the city.

The city in itself, which Yaz distantly heard the Doctor introducing as "Yvmir," was a jaw-dropping sight. The sky was a dusty red, parted in certain spots to show black and stars. Two suns lit the city, which almost seemed like a carnival in Yaz's mind. Yaz tilted her head, noting that it was sundown. She smiled to herself, looking to the doctor who was waiting for them to be ready to go.

"You guys ready?" Yaz asked the boys. They nodded, still looked entranced. The Doctor had a subtle smirk playing at her lips.

The four made their way down the hill to the market, and the humans of the group gaped at the sight before them. The Doctor looked to them, and handed out three pouches, each one filled with coins.

"I don't want to take from-" Yaz started but the Doctor interceded before she got any further, waving her hand in front if her face.

"S'fine Yaz! I rarely come here anyway, and I don't need that much money on me. I want you to take it."

The Doctor seemed dead set on her taking it, so Yaz begrudgingly obliged, taking the pouch wearily, a small smile on her lips.

"Thank you." She said, looking up to meet the Doctor's eyes.

"Don't thank me! I'm happy to do this. Come on, I can show you where the best little trinkets are."

The Doctor started forward, and the three followed suit.

-x-

Eventually, they came upon a small stand, near the back of the town, filled with pretty little sculptures, jewlery, and other random totems. The person manning the station had blue skin and a sleepy, almost unaware disposition.

The alien's eyes were glazed with a foggy look, and though at first Yaz thought it was his species, the Doctor looked overly concerned for that.

"Doctor? What's wrong with him?" Yaz questioned.

The Doctor leaned forward, opening his eyes wide then shining light into them with her sonic screwdriver. The action didn't even garner a response from the blue alien.

She put her hands on his ear in an odd fashion, nose scrunched whils concentrating. Nobody disturbed her until she took her hands off the ear.

Yaz could've sworn she saw her eyes flash for a second; with what she didn't know. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't positive.

"What happened to him, Doc?" Ryan asked wearily.

"He's been drugged. Let me see..." She opened his mouth wide, looking into his thought which she could see had turned an unnatural green color, bright, almost neon in tone.

Her eyes widened, and then flashed again. And Yaz knew what she'd seen in those eyes a second ago, without a doubt. It was anger.

Not just anger, rage, though highly controlled and tampered down. Yaz had never seen that look on the Doctor before, though in all honestly, they didn't know too much about their bubbly friend, and the Doctor seemed to prefer it that way.

"Kal 32. That's the name of the drug, it's deadly for Bemirins. He was drugged with the intent to kill, we have to get him to the hospital!"

The Doctor whirled around, putting the Alien on her back and starting forward, rushing through the square. The three followed, used to running by now. Eventually they made it to a tall building with red glass windows, and rushed inside.

"Emergency! We have an emergency!" The Doctor called as nurses came rushing out, immediately setting him down on a bed. Yaz noticed all three were covered in blood on there medical aprons.

At the quizzical look both the Doctor and Yaz were giving them, the fourth doctor, who was the only one not covered in blood, answered as the other three immediately took the Bemirin to the operating room.

"They've been in surgery," the doctor explained, "He's the fifteenth Bemirin to come here in this state today. They've all been-"

"Drugged with Kal 32." The Doctor finished for him, and he nodded in return.

"But that's illegal, it's not even shipped to this galaxy." The Doctor muttered, obviously angered.

The other doctor nodded mutely. "It's been an issue these last few months. We've been told that a lot of our recent patients who are in for treatment becuase if drug abuse have been smoking Kyr 21-"

"Which can be converted to Kal 32." The Doctor finished for him. "But isn't Kyr 21 illegal too?"

"Yes, but it gets people the rush they need very quickly and with the right people not awfully difficult to smuggle in."

The Doctor nodded, turning to the other three. "I'm going to get you situated in a resutrant. I have a small job to do, yeah?"

The three nodded reluctantly, saying there goodbyes and thanks to the other doctor.

The Doctor led the group towards a small resutrant, quaint and small but bright with decorative lights and smelling of incredibly good food.

She wrote out a few orders that would be more sorted towards human tastes, and then turned to leave, but not before giving them a few rules.

"You shouldn't leave the resutrant unless you need to for safety reasons, and if you do you should get back to the Tardis. I won't be long gone, just need to run a few errands."

"Couldn't we come?" Ryan asked.

She waved the question away. "Nah, it'd be boring. Have fun!" She speedily exited, no chance for disagreement.

-x-

The Doctor was right about one thing, the food was spectacular.

Rich flavors filled her mouths, things she'd never tasted before. The other two seemed to be in agreement.

The meal was quiet, each person savoring their food, until Yaz broke it.

"Do you guys reckon the Doctor was lying to us about running errands?"

Ryan and Graham shared a look.

"I though I was the only one who saw it." Graham spoke, setting down his fork.

Ryan shook his head in agreement. "Something was definitely not right about her. You think it's something to do with the drugging thing?

"I wouldn't be surprised." Yaz commented.

Graham was about to speak again when a figure with a black robe walked over. The three gave eachother uneasy glances.

"You...are companions of the Doctor?" The voice was garbled underneath the mask the figure was wearing.

"So what if we are?" Graham answered.

The figure stared at them, though they were unable to meet the robed person's eyes thoguh the mask.

"CV 31 works well on humans."

The three narrowed their eyes, each one on high alert.

"Was that a threat?" Yaz asked, staring up at the taller being.

The figure ignored her, continuing on a different speel. "It takes exactly fifteen minutes to take effect. That's why it's so vital. It goes off at an exact time."

The group stood up. "Are you gonna keep harassing us mate? Or are we going to have a fight?" Ryan spoke up.

Again, the robed figure ignored him. "At exactly fifteen minutes, it knocks the humans out completely."

Yaz's breath caught in her throat, finally understanding what the robed man was saying. She would've gotten up, if her body wasn't overcome by sleep at that very moment, the other two following suit.

-x-

Yaz awoke in a cage, bars allowing her air. Her head was splitting, and her mind was foggy. Her knees were tucked uncomfortably into her chest and she wasn't able to turn because of the low high of the cage. In short, she was rendered practically immobile.

"Ryan? Graham?" She called out, and was met with silence, the very thing she'd been dreading.

"Come on you guys, answer me!" She panicked.

A groan-Ryan's groan-echoed through the room. She relaxed in relief.

"Ryan?"

"Yeah, m'here."

Where is here? She thought.

"Ryan, can you see Graham?"

Silence. Yaz desperately hoped he hadn't fallen back asleep.

"Yeah, he's out cold though."

"Well, at least he's here." She attempted optimism, though even to her own ears she sounded hollow.

Footsteps rang through the room, and on instinct Yaz tensed up.

"You three, companions to the Doctor. Humans. Human scum, really." It was a different voice, though this time decidedly male. Yaz could make out Reddish skin and long black hair, sharp features, with cold grey eyes.

Yaz was about to say something in retort, but she decided it was safer to stay quiet.

"Mm...you Humans never do fail to confuse me." The main mused.

"And why's that?" Yaz questioned.

"Traveling with the Doctor, knowing what she is." The man chuckled.

"And what is that?" Yaz challenged.

"She didn't tell you, did she? Well, I can't say I'm surprised."

"Tell us what?" Yaz was beginning to get angry.

"Your Doctor, as much as she may pretend, isn't as whimsical as you might think."

"Stop dancing around the question and answer me!" Yaz snapped at him.

He met her eyes. "The Doctor, the Oncoming Storm, Destroyer of Worlds, Doctor of War. All titles that your friend has garnered over the years."

What? What? No. The Doctor is bubbly and adventurous and kind, not a soldier. Not a destroyer. Doctor, what did you do? Is what he's saying the truth? And if it is, why is it the truth?

Yaz was having trouble attaching the names to the Doctor she knew, but then she looked back on that subtle flash of anger-no, not anger, rage, and she started to doubt all she knew about her weird alien friend.

And what did she know? She didn't know the Doctor's species, her histories, her family. Hell, she didn't even know her name, though she suspected that was something very few people were privy to.

"Do you want to know why she left? It wasn't to run errands. In the thirty minute period while the chefs prepared your meals, she took down a base of my men."

"What?!" Yaz squawked. "Why would she do that?"

"We poisoned the Bemirins. Filthy scum, worse then humans. They migrate to our planet in flocks. You know what Audryvel used to be? A power empire. Full of Audrian culture and customers and people. Now look at the place. The mess it's become due to outsiders. And you know who first brought there culture over here? Bemirins."

Yaz opened her mouth, but no words seemed to come out.

"Still not a reason to be killing them." Graham spoke.

When had he woken up?

"Yeah, that's not cool mate." Ryan agreed.

"And you know who helped the Bemirins migrate after they had their war?"

Yaz had a feeling she knew where this was going.

"Your Doctor. So to get back at her, I'm going to kill all of you."

Yaz's blood ran cold.

The Doctor will get you out of this. The Doctor will get you out if this.

She repeated that phrase over and over, like a mantra.

But could she really trust the Doctor?

She heard the man's footsteps come closer to her, and she spotted the silvery gleam of a blade.

This is where I die.

Just as she felt the blade touch her neck, she heard the door slam open and all too familiar footsteps pounded in.

"Step away from her." Yaz glanced up to see her friend, and her eyes widened.

She'd been in the storm the entire time here, boxed up and waiting to die. But what she saw in front of her wasn't a storm.

It was a hurricane.

-x-

Present

The Doctor's whole expression was wild, dangerous and dark. She was a flood, the howling of the winds seemed to part for her, no, not part. They were sucked up into her, and ever step she took towards them collected more waters.

Her eyes. Oh god, her eyes. They were full of promises of danger, a wildfire, an inescapable current.

Yaz had never seen anything like it. And she was terrified.

It was so unnatural on the Doctor. The Doctor who was normally so kind and unthreatening.

And Yaz wondered how she could have been so blind to this. How this hurricane was hidden so perfectly under facades of calm and happiness and lightness.

What was perhaps most unsettling was the way it seemed so right at the same time, as if that expression fit her even moreso then her calm and happy one. It melded to her face, as if that was to truth of the Doctor.

And Yaz knew, deep down, that in a lot of ways it was.

"Did you not hear what I said?" The Doctor's voice had dropped dangerously low. "I said step away from her."

"Or what?" The man did withdraw the knife, seemingly interested in the Doctor herself.

"I know about you, Killian Redkalv. I know that you've committed many crimes, hurt many people, killed many people."

"The same could be said for you." Killian smirked at his remark.

The hurricane inside the Doctor's eyes whirled, and the room tempature dropped. Yaz was sweating.

The Doctor ignored him. "In fact, I think it's time to make a bargain. I could send you to prison, and erase all records of your worse crimes, or...I could have you executed."

Killian froze, gritting his teeth. "I'm closer than you are to her. I could slit her throat, and nothing you could do would stop me."

The Doctor gave him a cold look. "I wouldn't be too sure about that."

"Oh?" Killian said. "Then what could you do?"

Again, she ignored the question. "I'll answer that if you give me an answer here. Would you rather die, or go to jail. There are no other options."

"Hypothetically? I think I'd rather die" He raised an eyebrow. "Though it's not like I'll be caught. See, the room is filling with Galyzine, You know that that means, I take it?"

"It's a toxin meant to kill beings with two hearts." The Doctor said offhandedly, seemingly not worried by this new information.

Yaz wondered if it was new information at all.

"Why'd you do it then, anyway?" The Doctor asked.

"Do what?"

"Murder Liryc Horylvnde? Wasn't she a good friend?"

Killian grit his teeth. "She stuck her nose where she shouldn't have. There was no other choice, it was her or me."

"You know," the Doctor started, "they found a ring on her dresser. She was planning on giving you a bond proposal. You might have been lovers."

Killian looked away, and just for a second Yaz could swear she saw a flash of grief. "As I said, there was no other way."

"Hmm, I think that's selfish, but hey, what do I know. Actually, here's something I know. 3...2...1...ah!"

Killian collapsed to the ground groaning, eventually his breathing evened out and he was out cold.

Yaz wanted to make sure he wasn't dead, but in all honesty, she was terrified of the Doctor right now.

"Right, let's get you all out and about. Can't imagine that being very comfy."

After they were all free, Ryan spoke up.

"What did you do to him?"

"Ah, well, I switched the Galyzine for Agnefeine. It kills of Audrians-"

"What?! You killed him?!" Yaz yelped.

The Doctor shook her head.

"Nope. Let me finish. But it's a health drug for Bemirins."

"But he's Audrian." Graham said, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Nah, he's half-Audrian half-Bemirin. I'm sure a lot of his crimes against Bemirins were because of his self-hatred. When you're a cross between the two it knocks you out. We're going to take him to the prison center and let the authorities deal with him, yeah? Let's get a shift on."

The other three warily followed her, and a sense of uneasiness and distrust was formed in them.

-x-

After dropping off Killian at the jail, the group silently made their way to the Tardis.

"Well, that was interesting? Yeah. Never thought any of that would happen coming here. And we didn't get to buy any trinkets or sample the desserts on the other side of town, that's where the best desserts are-"

The Doctor was trying to break the tension by going back to her cheery, happy-go-lucky self, but if anything it just increased the tension.

"No." Ryan said, cutting her off. "You don't get to do that. Not after this."

The Doctor's fake smile dropped, and Yaz was amazed at both how quick the switch was and how good of an actor she was.

Mostly though, Yaz was trying to scan her memories for any indication of the truth. How could she have been so easily fooled?

"I'll explain everything inside." The Doctor said, looking conflicted and saddened.

Yaz had never seen the Doctor said. She'd seen her wistful when talking about how she carries her family with her, but never sad. It seems a lot of things were new.

The Tardis doors opened, and they made their was to the "living room" as Graham liked to call it.

The three sat down opposite to the Doctor, who had an ancient look in her eye, a far cry from the look of childish wonder that had previously seemed to follow her wherever she went.

"First of all, I want to apologize. I didn't mean to scare you, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And for lying to you about where I was going earlier."

The three nodded, taking the information in but remaining silent.

"See, the thing is, doing the right thing means making the hard choices. And a long time ago I had to make a very hard choice."

The Doctor looked haunted, Yaz noted.

"There was a war," she began, "and I was a soldier."

So she was a soldier after all.

"You see, it was the two most advanced races in the universe. The Time Lords and the Daleks. It was a losing battle, people were dying in masses on both sides, no sign of it stopping soon. Eventually, if the war continued, it was clear that it would spill out into the universe."

Yaz's eyes were wide. That sounds awful.

"So I made a decision. I took a bomb, and I blew up my planet. To save the universe."

What.

Wait.

What?

That explained a lot of things, Yaz thought. How desperate the Doctor was to save every single soul. After being put in an impossible position all those years ago.

"Then some timey whiney stuff that would take a few days to explain happened and the planet was brought back, but time locked, out of my reach."

I can't imagine that. Being given back your people but never being able to return.

"And then a friend died. And I spent seven billion years in a trap they made for me, dying over and over again and resisting the trap in order to save her secrets. We were too powerful together, you see. I took her out of the time stream, one heart beat before she died.

And then one of us had to erase our memory of the other. I was the one who got erased. But when regeneration hit...it all lodged back into place. One day she'll be ready to die...but until then she's running on her last heart beat."

"Doctor..." Yaz was already tearing up. That was just...horrible. There was no other word to explain it...just horrible.

"When you try to save as many people as me, you realize that sometimes not everyone can be saved. Not all people who are fighting against you can be saved, and some times they can become your wife."

Yaz paused her thoughts.

Wait, wife?

"Hah. Yeah, she's dead though. Time travels funny, really, I saw her die before I even knew who she was."

This is just messed up. How is she still going on?

Yaz almost felt I'll listening to it.

"And when you're fighting against someone, sometimes the only way for innocent people to survive is death. It's awful, and I always try to avoid it, but death is...inevitable."

The Doctor looked distant saying those words. The grief was clear in her eyes.

"I'm not a good person-" The Doctor started, but Yaz cut her off.

"Yes you are!"

The Doctor smiled sadly. "No, I'm not. But I help people, I fix things, yeah? So as long as I'm doing that, I think I can live with myself."

A heavy silence overtook them.

"One more thing. I'll be blunt. A lot of my companions have met some...tragic ends that's not a lie. Do you want to continue traveling with me? Either way, I'm fine."

The Doctor looked anything but, but Yaz wasn't about to comment.

"I'm staying." Ryan started.

"Me too." Graham agreed.

"We're a fam, right? And fams don't abandon eachother."

The Doctor gave a smile, and it seemed far more genuine then any smile they'd seen before.

"Thank you. Thank you all so much."

[nexlance]

Adolescent Depression: causes, symptoms, treatment, and Parental Communication

Adolescence is a time of transition, and it is "natural" for adolescents to be moody, irritable, lonely. As a result, depression in teenagers is often misdiagnosed or merely due to normal teenage behavior. The stresses of everyday life are also having a negative impact on our young teens. Take a look at the numbers below and be astounded. Figures dont lie, and they are also the perfect way to highlight those details that, when introduced to the general public's attention, leave a permanent impression. It is important to capture the interest of someone who wishes to hear more about what the numbers are showing. There is no wonder that numbers are nothing more than concrete concepts with the potential to sway even the most cynical of minds, and it would even offer the young generation the real picture when it comes to teenage depression. Twenty Percent Of Teenagers Are Sufferers The first thing that will make you wake up and take notes of adolescent depression rates is the fact that almost one-fifth of the adolescent population of the United States has undergone a degree of psychiatric depression before reaching full adulthood. Not just that, but ten to fifteen percent of adolescents have signs of adolescent depression, while another five percent of the adolescent population has suffered from major depression. Second, another concerning feature of adolescent depression is the lack of social acceptance for adolescents with such an illness, and what's worst is that as many as 8% of teenagers would have witnessed the recurrence of depression at least once a year. This is concerning because depression affects just 5% of the national population. adolescent depression usually lasts for eight months. Teenagers are now at risk of having another bout of adolescent depression within two years, with the chances of this happening ranging from twenty to forty percent, and there is also a seventy percent chance that they will have another bout of adolescent depression. Third, a common characteristic of adolescence depression is that many teens experience seasonal depression. This form of depression is most common during the winter, but it can also be seen in areas of high altitudes. And the weather may play a role in the onset of seasonal depression, so teens must be mindful of these social influences on their mental health. Fourth, other data on adolescent depression show that dysthymia, or a moderate type of depression that persists for a long time, affects around 2% of adolescents, and a similar number of teenagers are more likely to develop bipolar depression as they get older. Indeed, it is estimated that up to 15% of teens who have had major depression are at risk of experiencing bipolar depression later in life. As a result, it is fair to conclude that adolescent depression can impact adolescents regardless of their socioeconomic status, economic class, ethnicity, ethnicity, or accomplishments, and that adolescent depression is a very serious mental health condition affecting teens in the United States. There are some prominent early signs of adolescent depression. If you think your underage child is troubled, you must get treatment urgently.

Adolescent Depression Different Than Adult Depression?

Depression is a mood disease in which people feel depressed, withdrawn, lose confidence in what is going on around them, have learning difficulties, and can even commit suicide. Depressive symptoms are normal, and most people will experience them at some stage in their life even though they are not diagnosed with depression. Men have a lifetime prevalence of depression ranging from 5% to 12%, whereas women have a prevalence ranging from 10% to 25%. Severe depression ranked fourth in terms of disease dysfunction and related risk factors in 1990. Depression is expected to rate second only to heart disease as a concern by the year 2020. Depression has also been attributed to an elevated risk of cancer, respiratory failure, immune dysfunction, allergies, migraine, insomnia, infectious disease, and suicide. The body responds similarly to depression and stress. Corticosteroids are hormones that are produced when a person is stressed or depressed. Cortisol levels in the adrenal glands rise and remain elevated during depression, affecting long-term memory. Individuals suffering from depression include increased development in the hypothalamus, pituitary gland, and adrenal glands. Long-term stress has been linked to a decline in hypothalamus volume. The hypothalamus is in charge of processing input from the autonomic nervous system and controlling feeding, sexual activity, sleep habits, impulses, and hormone secretion. People who have had repeated bouts of depression have irregular electroencephalograph sleep cycles. Enlarged ventricles and greater cerebral atrophy have been observed in depressive patients with psychotic characteristics. Adolescent depression can show itself in a variety of ways. Adolescents and infants, according to the DSM-IV-TR, exhibit more irritability, social withdrawal, and somatic complaints. Displays of melancholy and psychomotor retardation, as seen in people with depressive disorders, are not common in teenagers. Adolescent depression, on the other hand, may be characterized by frustration, confusion, exhaustion, and lack of interest in usually pleasurable activities. Another characteristic of teen depression is that it affects both boys and girls equally. Because of the presenting signs, adolescent depression is impossible to diagnose. Other conditions, such as Conduct Disorder, Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder, and Anxiety, are often associated with the disorder. There are two forms of depression. Shyness, fear, worrying behavior, and avoidance are all correlated with internalizing style. Externalizing personality is linked to substance addiction and behavior disorder. A variety of studies have associated depression and other psychosocial factors to adult pain perception. It stands to reason that depression, or symptoms of depression, will be found in teenagers who are in distress. Adolescents' sense of well-being has been attributed to low back and mid-back pain. Adolescents and children who have back pain complain that their health is bad and that they are unhappy. Physical fitness is a major indicator of depression in youth, both now and in the future. In addition, physical disorder is linked to depression.

Warning signs and symptoms Of Adolescent Depression

Poor or fluctuating grades in school, disappointment in school or at work, and a sense of inability to achieve expectations are all red flags. Withdrawal from friends, family, and hobbies is another possibility. They will become more isolated as time goes by. They can show signs of depression, hopelessness, and a lack of motivation/enthusiasm. Their self-esteem may range from poor to non-existent. They may be unable to focus, make decisions, or miss things sometimes. Changes of sleep and appetite are possible. They can become irritable, irritated, and anxious as a result. They can become addicted to substances (self-medicate), depressed, or obsessed with death. When the adolescent exhibits some of these symptoms, continue to speak to them, even if it's just to let them know you're there for them, and get treatment right away. There are some indicators that a person is suffering from adolescent depression. Changes in appetite, changes in sleep schedule, lack of interest in usually common sports, irritability and often irrational response to anger, and, last but not least, declarations of depression are among the signs. Changes in appetite or eating habits are a typical and very strong indicator of teenage depression. In reality, it is one of the primary symptoms. More specifically, the signs can include eating too much, eating too little, or not eating at all for an extended period of time. These symptoms of teenage depression should not be confused with those with an eating disorder. However, these main signs may also turn into more neurotic habits, particularly as the patient begins to feel better following a diet shift. Changes in sleep and sleep schedule, including changes of appetite or feeding pattern, are symptoms of teenage depression, but the behaviour varies from person to person. Nonetheless, a significant shift in sleep habits with no apparent cause should be regarded as a fairly solid and not-to-be-ignored warning sign. Another well-known symptom of teenage depression is a rapid and unexplained decline in involvement in previously favored hobbies. It's not the same as when a child outgrows a passion of a certain game. If your child enjoys a sport and suddenly decides not to participate during the season, you should be concerned. It may be a symptom of teenage depression. Another red flag, which is difficult to ignore, is when the child becomes enraged frequently or overreacts to his or her own annoyance. This may be more than just a case of more or less anticipated adolescent rebelliousness. However, distinguishing between typical juvenile misbehavior and depression-driven misbehavior requires the expertise of a trained and experienced healthcare professional. There is no such thing as a single symptom of depression. It's still a slew of symptoms. When your child expresses despair, it may only be a terrible hair day, so if you've recently encountered any of the above symptoms of stress, it's time to take action. Call your doctor and brace yourself and your family for a bumpy trip.

Adolescent Depression - Causes and Best Treatment Options Available

Adolescent depression is a form of depression that may develop during adolescence. This form of depression is characterized by a lack of confidence, feelings of worthlessness, persistent disappointment, and discouragement, among other negative emotions. You can't tell whether an adolescent will get sad or not; often it can be predicted, but in most situations, it can be kept silent before anything happens. It is important to treat teen depression until it worsens, which could happen at any moment. You must address the issue as soon as you know you are stressed or your adolescent is depressed. It might not be an easy problem to solve, but you have to start somewhere. Adolescent depression may be a teenager's acute reaction to such conditions or even normal stress, but it may also be a condition that they may recover from for years if they are not supported. When it comes to adolescents, depression is often caused by: - Arguments of independence from parents - a lack of liberty (in their minds). - The normal maturing mechanism, as well as the tension and worry that it entails. - Sexual hormones may play a significant role in depression. Adolescent depression can also be a transient response to upsetting circumstances that may escalate to a lasting situation, such as: - Failing school - Being the victim of bullying - Death of a relative or a close friend - A sad breakup with a partner Teenagers with poor self-esteem, those who are very critical of themselves, and those who believe they have little or no influence over such stressful experiences are at risk of depression. It is also well recognized that teenage girls are more likely than teenage boys to feel depression while they are going through a tough time. Any of the risk factors are as follows: - Unstable care giving - Weak social skills - Chronic illnesses - Sexual, mental and physical child abuse - Genetic depression - family history of the disorder - Parental loss due to divorce or death, as well as other traumatic life activities Any eating disorders, such as anorexia and bulimia, have been linked to adolescent depression.. Treatments It is important to rule out any physical illnesses first, such as hypothyroidism or anemia. Depression should be considered after all physical causes have been ruled out. The below are some treatments for teenage depression: When pursuing care for teenage depression, psychotherapy may be the first choice. Talk counseling attempts to help the troubled adolescent to improve their way of thinking. They will be taught more reasonable ways to solve their problems, as well as how to develop their interpersonal and social skills. Medication - Antidepressants are often used for children, but with great caution. This is due to a lack of knowledge on the long-term impact of antidepressants on teenagers. Antidepressant side effects can cause children under the age of 21 to have suicidal thoughts or even attempt suicide, necessitating hospitalization. Alternative treatments such as acupuncture, acupressure, and specifically tailored fitness plans can be beneficial to teenagers suffering from depression. Before adopting any new treatments, consult with your child's doctor. Herbal supplements are completely safe and have far less, if any, side effects than antidepressants. Check with your child's doctor whether he or she is on any medications for any health issues. The herbs are not dangerous; however, they can diminish the potency of certain prescription drugs, putting your child at risk.

Coping With Adolescent Depression

Adolescent depression is highly common and can develop in children who will never feel it again. Then, what happens? It is popular for a variety of purposes. For instance, teenage hormone levels undergo drastic modifications and differences. Hormone fluctuations can disrupt a person's mental health. Technically, the condition is caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain. When chemicals or hormones get out of balance, a person becomes depressed. Adolescents are most likely to undergo the emotions when their hormones shift often.. Children are still suffering a great deal of tension. To an adult who may not have children, this will seem to be a humorous joke. They do, after all, have their whole life ahead of them. They have little commitments and are at a point in their lives where they will have a good time. Regrettably, this is not completely right. Teenagers are continually subjected to social pressure. They are pushed to be slim, to dress well, and to use drugs and alcohol. Any of these stresses, particularly drug and alcohol pressures, are difficult for a teenager to cope with. Drugs and alcohol are depressants, and if a teenager continues to use them, he or she can develop depression. Loss is another cause. When a loved one dies, it is common for a person to feel depression. This trigger isn't just for teens. What Should You Do? Unfortunately, there isn't anything you can do to influence a teenager's hormones or reaction to social pressure. What you should do is speak to your kid about social pressure before they reach the age of adolescence. Describe what it is and how to deal with it. Keep a good watch on your infant as well. They may be depressed if they have severe mood swings or begin to behave abnormally. It may also be a warning if they become socially isolated and refuse to hang out with their mates. Maintain a constant line of contact with your kids. This will assist you with understanding how they are feeling. If you or your kid suspects they are sad, take them to a mental health provider right away. You should begin by speaking with a school counselor. A school psychologist may be able to assist them in coping with their hormones and social pressure. However, if the emotions are more intense, you can see a therapist. Trained therapists are well equipped to treat teenage depression..

Adolescent Depression and Parent Communication

Photo by Ivan Samkov on Pexels.com It is self-evident that puberty is a time of accelerated growth. The child's social responsibility extends into the home, and peer relationships tend to take precedence. Simultaneously, molecular changes are taking place, resulting in bursts of physical and academic development. It's no surprise that so many teenagers report feeling anxious and pressured. Despite the above causes, most teenagers adapt to maturity without incident and grow up to be well-adjusted adults. In particular, study over the last ten years suggests that roughly 80% of all teenagers achieve maturity without major difficulties. Many of the remaining 20% face transition challenges as a result of a variety of reasons such as family conflicts, peer interactions, and educational pressures. For others, the end result is sadness, and normal development is halted. Depression in puberty resembles adult depression. The adolescent is filled with depression, hopelessness, and a lack of interest in a brighter future. Eating and sleeping habits may change; friendships and family relationships may suffer; and school grades may begin to fall. In certain circumstances, the stress subsides and life resumes normalcy. However, if depression persists, the adolescent's life trajectory will be permanently changed, leading to school failure, drug misuse, and an unstable adult lifestyle. Fortunately, parents may take a variety of measures to assist their teen in overcoming stress and returning to normal functioning. To begin, it is critical to understand the improvements in the teen's biochemistry predispose them to emotional control issues. As a result, juvenile populations experience emotional extremes more often than infant or adult populations. Some days can feel like a roller coaster of emotional highs and lows. As a result, adults can become irritated and impatient when a teenager expresses his or her feelings. Second, it is critical to recognize that these emotional responses are very genuine, and that often just listening can be extremely beneficial to the teen. For example, when teenagers are so dependent on their peers, the absence of a best friend or first girlfriend is always viewed as tragic. And parents who are sympathetic to their teen's sadness may grow impatient as the teen's storms of crying, sleepless nights, and sullen demeanor disrupt the family environment. However, if parents are not present, teens can find another person to speak to. Someone else is usually another teenager who lacks the loyalty, empathy, and intelligence needed to be genuinely helpful. Furthermore, as hidden confidantes become Facebook comments, trust problems often emerge. Parents wield considerable strength. Read the full article

[jfleurcannon]

oh fuck. a hysterectomy story.

just so i don't have to go through explaining. please visit links and read up if you are interested, i simplified it AF and wiki'd the source, otherwise, this is legit not the place for you. i talk about things, life, whatnot, and my life is fucking bullshit sometimes.

endometriosis

adenomysosis

fibromyalgia - i'm not even gonna get into this one. because, as the doctor who diagnosed me said, 'not many people believe in this one, so maybe don't say that you have it out loud.' but chalk that guy up for chronic musculoskeletal & joint pain in my wrists, arms, shoulders, back, butt, and knees. but 🤫.

i'm sure y'all know wtf depression and anxiety are, i see those #bellletstalk tags. it's been with me for years, since i guess the chronic pain started. i got my period and wondered why the fuck i was the only one who got sick, like sick. fainting, knocking over a mannequin display at the eddie bauer at fairview mall (you're welcome, sisters), passing out at school and having to be carried out by julie (thank you, sister), missing so many activities and things i wanted to do but couldn't. having 'jenn's always sick anyways' thrown in my face by a childhood friend, being made to feel bad about pain and not wanting to be in the mood, having to cancel plans last minute because of pending pain, side effects from meds i'm taking that make me sick, but not quite as sick as the original problem - so i deal. like i deal with it all. [like a warrior. i have held my pain like the damn death star. my uterus is the death star. except that time i carried and birthed a baby, and then it was fucking AWESOME!] typically it's bottom shelf paper bag internalized. and for years my solution was to therapy it out, or shove the feels down hard so i developed massive GI issues, or maybe that is the endo, who the fuck knows. fast forward years of therapy and a shit ton of medication and three suicide attempts, the final one being in 2007. i was hospitalized for the final attempt at sunnybrook's mental health ward. the F ward, i shit you not. i felt like girl intrurrupted, but there was no winona or angelina. there was a pam and a joan. no padded room, but i couldn't leave to go outside for the first week. that was fucked up.

pain is pain, and although i am a fan of ja-rule, pain has never equaled love to me. it has only left me with an overwhelming hate for parts of my life, that were always plagued by illness, pain, and brewing depressive state. i would get sick for long, long periods of time and there would be no reason for it. had i known then what i had (endo, adeno, fibro, MFGT's) it would have made sense. two of the three are auto-immune diseases. i get a cold, and i really get it. i lose my voice, and it's gone for months.

the only fast thing i've done is labour and delivery. it might seem strange to put the birth of my child in the pain category, however the story will explain why in a mo. i arrived at the hospital at 10am at 2cm dilated, upon exam by a nurse i pushed and my water broke, i was put in a wheelchair and brought to wait for a L&D room, outside the exam room and in the tiny hallway, there my insides tore open, quite literally, nerve damage, and rapid labour. i screamed and screamed and was told to wait while they got things ready. i mean. i thought i was dying. why was this happening so fast? my husband came back up as i was being brought into the room (i think, some details are fuzzy). i was examined by a doctor and was at 10cm. it hadn't been more than 10 minutes since i had arrived. i remember things moving too quickly for me and i was very panicked that something was wrong. i remember being told the boy's heartbeat was becoming compromised and we needed to get him out. options included a C-section, forceps, or the vacuum. all terrified me as i literally was without ANY pain management. we opted for the vacuum and they offered me laughing gas as a super sad knife-in-the-back compromise. i took it, but the hell? AT THAT VERY MOMENT I WANTED THE SWEET, SWEET NECTAR OF THE ALL POWERFUL EPIDURAL! four pushes with the vacuum on and the boy was born, at 10:35am. in 35 minutes i arrived at the hospital had my baby, like whatevs, and held him while being stitched up. naturally there were stitches. i can't even with that pain. OMG. people say you won't remember the labour pain and that 'it'll just go away when you see your perfect baby', you know what? they lied to your face, or they had an epidural, or they didn't experience rapid labour. 2-10 in 5 minutes. they did not teach me that in L&D class. i wanted ice chips, and the tub, and the playlist of music, and maybe a pelvic roll or two on the ball, but no, miles wanted his entrance to be dramatic and fast and it was nothing less than that.

any and all of the things i've battled have stayed with me like wearing a cloak, all day everyday i feel pain, whether it's physical, mental, emotional, or otherwise, i feel it. i can't see it but i fucking feel it. with diagnosis always come the waiting game of endless specialists, tests, interventions by way of oral medication, physical therapy, walking epidurals, suppositories in my ass or vag, chiropractor visits, along with visits to acupuncture, massage, GP, GYNE, and psychologists.

after a thirty year battle, and almost one year of keeping this in my drafts folder, i finally have felt an end to my endometriosis and adenomyosis pain. a hysterectomy and final excision of endo from nerve clusters fused together because of it, i can breathe. i can breathe clearly and without a constant fear of nausea, hot flashes, bizarre mood swings because of the menopausal state the IUD was causing, and chronic pelvic/back/low abdomen/bowel pain. i still have a 44 year old body and permanent nerve damage from rapid labour and negligence from a past surgeon, but holy hot hell it's nice to not want to punch people in the face for asking you how you feel. i know that's not a normal reaction to that question. i get that. however, as someone who has suffered from chronic pain her whole adult life, it is the hardest question to answer honestly. how you feel sometimes is like shit, or crap, or a god damn mess, or you just don't want to talk, especially to that person but you can't say it. so you answer, 'fine', 'great', or 'living the dream'. is the honest answer the best answer? it may not be, but it's the one with the least amount of follow up questions or lengthy conversation to follow. i love things, and flowers, and coffee, and white wine, and my man friend, and my kid, and my family, and a handful of others - but for the most part i would honestly prefer not to talk to anyone about anything. it's all the same conversation anyway. and i'm tired. tired of listening. tired of talking/hearing my own voice. tired of noise. in need of quiet and calm. my one year surgery anniversary is coming up and i'm looking forward to it. i have never looked forward to a post surgery anything because those have always led to more surgeries. but the doctor from brazil with the 'small hands' did the job this time. removed the death star and its accompanying bullshit organs (tubes and cervix) and we are good to go now. she works again, without pain 😉

surgeries for endometriosis & adenomyosis

2006 - laser laparoscopic discovery of endo

2009 - stage IV endo excision via laparoscopy

2015 - laser laparoscopic removal of endo & appendectomy

2016 - endo excision via laparoscopy

2019 - full hysterectomy (minus ovaries) and extensive endo excision on nerve clusters fused together

[thenightisland]

you know the drill:

this is becoming like its own series but idk how else to explain this awful year i don’t even feeling like properly linking so here’s just the URLs of the other ones in the series: 1. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/161087786689/explanationsupdates-under-the-cutmore-i 2. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/161920216354/additional-updatesexplanations-under-the-cut 3. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/163767959805/updates-under-the-cutmore-post-one-post-two-on 4. http://thenightisland.tumblr.com/post/164398486219/on-the-fourth-edition-of-what-the-fuck-is

one of the assessors got jumped a while back. she was just walking past a pt in the main assessment dept and he jumped up, punched her in the back of the head, took her to the ground and beat the fuck out of her. she was out for weeks and weeks and had broken facial bones. i can’t believe she didn’t quit.

our nurse executive quit though. not like, went prn or gave two weeks notice, like just straight up was like I’M DONE and walked out which honestly is the closest i’ve ever come to respecting him.

while having more psychologically unstable pts isn’t new, having more medically unstable pts has been a problem lately. like our crash cart is not like a medical hospital’s crash cart it’s like. an ambu bag some iv supplies and a stethoscope no lifesaving medications. when a pt has a medical issue we send them out to a medical hospital because obv we don’t have the resources to treat complex medical issues where we work. which didn’t used to be an issue because you’d used to see maybe two medical codes a year on my unit. we’ve had /ten/ since my last update post /just on my shift/. two of which weren’t even “pt is going downhill fast” codes they were “pt has no heartbeat and isn’t breathing” like we had to fucking bring two people back from the goddamn dead /within ten minutes of each other/. we’re all like we’re psych nurses man if we wanted to do this shit we’d work er. [and the er we’re required to send these pts to is awful like they sent us back a guy who had almost died twice in three days who had an /untreated brain tumor/ bc obv he’s totally fine]. or we’ve been doing mash unit style medicine like the suicidal kid with partial thickness burns all over his chest and neck that literally no one was doing anything about. we were debriding burns with a mixture of different PO IM and SQ drugs to achieve the same effect as IV morphine because debriding is extremely painful but not doing it will just make things worse and no one else seemed to care so we just fucking did it. like we’ve done so much medical nursing lately. like the one with the uncontrolled severe seizures that led to the medical hospital labeling her first break schizophrenia despite no family history of mental illness but /five different medical issues that all cause psychosis/. or the one they let on the unit despite being on the do not readmit who has untreated hiv that he actively tries to give to other people and /active tuberculosis/. or the one with the aneurysm. or the one with severe CHF. and on and on and on. and remember: we’re not the most medically unstable unit in the hospital because we have a 40 bed /geriatric psych unit/ so you can imagine the kind of pts /they’re/ getting. on the plus side, all of our ten odd codes lived.

my personal life is still a goddamn mess, of course, but that’s a given. don’t even know where to begin with all that. and i can’t talk about a lot of it which makes it that much more fun.

i had an entire crisis about the odyssey [which tbh is still kind of going on even after /weeks/] because i’m getting so cagey in memphis because i fucking hate this town. and i just got back from new orleans which is the closest thing i have to an ithaca at the moment and it killed me to come back to this fucking city.

i’m also really paranoid right now because after i come back from vacations, something terrible always happens and i’m not exaggerating it’s like clockwork to the point that the bad things have all happened between friday and sunday after i’ve returned from my vacation, each time, without fail. well that would be this weekend so i am just waiting to see what great horrors await me this goddamn time. [last time, it was the whole coworker killed in vehicular homicide thing]. but i guess paranoia isn’t the right word. you’re only paranoid if you’re wrong, and my life has already set the precedent. so i guess anxious is the better word.

the anxiety is increased given that my mother has been out of work all week because they’ve had trouble regulating her blood sugar and so she’s been really sick and even said so herself she’ll probably end up in the er over the weekend because she doesn’t think she can make it till her next doc appt because she’s miserable, and she’s already been in the er once when this weird shit started happening a month or so ago so the Vacation Curse has me even more concerned than usual, which is saying something. 

there’s a new psych doc working now and everyone is really unsettled by him and we’re pretty sure he’s a genuine psychopath like completely without exaggeration and he’s already done a lot of really creepy things to/with staff members and one nurse said in passing “i’ve known a lot of doctors like him he’ll end up fucking a pt at some point” which we initially left to hyperbole but he’s been doing shit like transporting female pts to other units without the staff’s consent in his own car which is like all kinds of not allowed, and the way he talks to some of the staff is just downright rapey honestly. and so we had a rough case this summer who, through the combined efforts of my squad, we got her from a diagnosis of intellectual disability with schizophrenia, nonverbal, self harming all the time, history of physical and sexual abuse, constantly in restraints and on a 1:1 obs level to a new diagnosis of autism spec with ptsd because her “hallucinations” were /flashbacks/ and she ended up very social and verbose and like fucking read william blake for fun and had a great sense of humor and was off all special observations and had a transfer to another facility pending so she could get more 1:1 long term therapy, and the creepy doctor was covering her case while her actual doc was out of town and he rode all the way to the other hospital with her which is another thing you do not do, and we found out from a coworker that she is now a /2:1/ [two staff members within arm’s reach 24/7], self harming again, in full shutdown/meltdown mode, and nonverbal. and it was such a rapid deterioration that all of us lost sleep over the possibility that this creepy doctor might have done something because even after she was at the other hospital and therefore no longer our pt, /he kept going to see her/. which fucked us up a lot because we were the ones who worked so hard for so long with her. like even the thought of it.

recently had 25th birthday so naturally had a crisis about that because i’d always said my goal was to be out of memphis by 25 and yet here we are. 

another of our fave pts, esp one of /my/ fave pts, died out of literally nowhere. the day before my birthday. so that was great.

also felt really surreal to see the news about the convictions in the holly bobo case, which i found out about when one of my coworkers was reading the news on his phone during a lull one night i forgot that to him and everyone else it’s a national news story [hell it even has its own wikpedia page] but to me it’s just /holly/ because she was /in the class above me in our nursing program/. my first semester in college i remember seeing her face on missing posters on every building on campus. so it was really a weird moment of dissociation for me. glad the motherfucker was found guilty on all charges, obv. 

the tech of mine who got his skull slammed into the floor, the one who’s been out with what can only be called severe psychological trauma, is supposed to be coming back the third week in october. which i just. i mean i’m glad because he’s one of our best guys, but i’m also like /why the fuck would he come back/ because he could be a fucking english professor again. motherfucker spent part of his youth growing up in italy and montreal, lived on the west coast for years, /was/ a college professor, did time as a script doctor in LA, and was a fucking thriller novelist who just gone girled himself for whatever reason and ended up working with us. there’s literally a reddit thread asking if anyone knows what happened to him and i want to be like don’t worry it’s fine he works with me. but so we’re like why would you come back to this place after what happened to you when you have so many other options available to you????? what are you running from that makes you so desperate to keep centering your life around a locked acute psych ward???? why did you gone girl yourself to begin with??? like he was screwed up enough there for a while that he wasn’t even answering his calls or texts and our boss had to send the police to do welfare checks on him because he lives alone so it’s like man why not go back to the life you had before and /get away from all of this/ it’s not like my situation where i’d rather be living a different life but have never done so, he already has the foundation because he’s already lived a different life he has an in that i don’t have and i can’t for the life of me figure out why he thinks working as an acute pysch tech is the better option. 

but i mean. we /do/ call our unit the hotel california for a reason.

[ateamymm]

The Effect of Oil Prices, Employment and Interest Rates on the Fort McMurray Housing Market

What Will Happen Next Year?

“What do you think the market is going to do in the next x months/years?”

It’s the most common question we get asked.

And we can’t answer it.

As REALTORS®, we shouldn’t predict the real estate market. We’re not economists and so it’s not our role, so the Real Estate Act doesn’t allow it.

What is our role? Well, we deliver unbiased statistics and interpret them, honestly inform buyers and sellers the value of the properties they are considering buying or selling, and we offer our representation & marketing services. Then, if they wish, we execute the transaction.

But what can we say when someone asks us about the future of the real estate market?

There are a few things, but today I’ll just cover one of them.

Hopefully, you will finish reading, a little more informed, and satisfied.

Confessions of a Failed Economist

I have a Masters in Economics for Development from the University of Oxford, but I really didn’t understand economics until the last few years.

I was taught that economics is the study of decision-making; that it’s rooted in human psychology, and that firms & households make decisions based on prices (e.g. wages & rents), which determine aggregate supply & demand for products and services in the marketplace.

Like a lot of people at school, I learned plenty in class, but I didn’t really know what that all meant.

What’s worse, not knowing that I would become a REALTOR®, I didn’t choose Real Estate Economics modules at either college (isn’t hindsight 20/20?).

Finding Answers

It was about 3 years ago, in November 2014, that I first googled “how oil prices affect real estate prices”. OPEC had just made their decision to respond to the US shale boom by opening up the spigots. Oil prices were heading south. And fast.

[caption id="attachment_27700" align="aligncenter" width="601"] The 2014 oil price crash did a number on the housing market in Fort McMurray. (Credit:Kunstler)[/caption]

I wanted to get a sense of what we were in for.

I happened upon the 2005 master’s thesis of a Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) student named Mercedes Padilla entitled:

“The Effects of Oil Prices and Other Economic Indicators on House Prices in Calgary, Canada.” (MIT Library link)

Now, that paper wasn’t published in a journal, and as a result was not peer-reviewed, but the work of the supervising professor is, and enthusiastic readers can read through Professor Wheaton’s list of highly relevant, published work here.

What Was The Point of The Study?

The study attempted to figure out what determines house prices in markets that are dominated by oil. Namely:

-What are the main factors? -Which factors are the most important? -How long does it typically take for changes in the resource price, or other determinants to impact the real estate market?

This was perfect.

This could really help our messaging. If we had a sense of the answers to these questions, next time our clients ask us about prices (typically potential seller clients), we could refer them to this paper so they could draw their own conclusions.

And The Results?

The results of the study need to be taken with a big grain of salt for at least five reasons[note]a) Not peer-reviewed b) Written by a student, not an actual economist c) Calgary (not Fort McMurray) was studied d) 2005 was a long time ago e) Study of a rising, not falling market..[/note], but here are the main results:

A small list of 4 factors explained 98% of the variation in single-family home prices over time.

Those factors were i) employment, ii) the exchange rate, iii) the real interest rate, iv) the oil price.

Oil prices impact prices directly (through a wealth effect) as well as indirectly through employment.

A cheap loonie impacts prices directly (through foreign buyers) and indirectly through employment because oil companies become more profitable ceteris paribus.

Low interest rates impact house prices directly (cheaper payments) and indirectly through employment because businesses become more profitable ceteris paribus.

All other factors being equal for every $2-a-barrel change in oil prices housing prices were affected by 1%. Regarding lags: i) it was the immediate level of employment that impacted home prices ii) the exchange rate impacted home prices 1 year later, iii) interest rate changes impacted home prices over the following two years, iv) the full effect of oil price changes wasn’t felt until 1 year and 9 months after the oil price change.

Is it Worth Taking Seriously?

Well, that’s entirely up to you!

What I will say, is that in hindsight, in Fort McMurray, we have seen oil prices change by about $50 and three years later, benchmark home prices for single family homes have changed by about 20-25%. The interest rate, exchange rate, and employment have also changed, which complicated things (so, of course, does the wildfire), but generally speaking, we have seen the predictions of the academic paper play out.

What Have I Learned?

Old-school economics teaches us that families, when given “perfect” information will make correct decisions that maximize their happiness. Of course, that’s an idealistic view of the world, because making good decisions is really hard (see last week’s blog about reference points).

The business of real estate is done at the kitchen table, and it can be an intense place when decisions are made. Watching those decisions almost as a fly-on-the-wall, has been a bit difficult, but I’ve learned a few things:

People really do systematically make better decisions if presenting with good quality information that they can trust. Our job is to provide that information.

There are important ratios (for example the absorption rate[note]For any part of the market, we can divide the current stock of inventory by the monthly rate of sales. This gives us the “months of inventory” or absorption rate. If this number is greater than 5-6 months, we are in a buyer’s market, and prices tend to not be supported, assuming the economic fundamentals don’t change. By and large, for the last 36 months, this has been the case, and that is what has played out.[/note]), which determine the current state of the market. These can help guide potential buyers and sellers when fine-tuning the timing of their moves.

It’s not possible to predict the future.

Oil prices and credit availability are enormous exogenous forces which clearly determine the price of Fort McMurray real estate.

By extension, people interested in the value of Fort McMurray real estate do well to stay informed about the oil market and federal government/central bank policies (follow us on Twitter for relevant articles).

The value of your primary residence is going to vary greatly over time, and that’s normal in a resource town. Generally, people time the purchases and sales of these homes with the needs of their lifestyles, and that’s a good thing. However, especially those people with shorter timelines, and with higher risk-aversity, do well to arm themselves with quality information prior to making any big decisions.

The Future of Fort McMurray Real Estate

(We don’t predict the future, but here are some things to watch for in 2018)

The rebuild looks sure to continue: Congrats to everyone moving back home! :)

The oil glut may or not disappear during 2018:

How Saudi Arabia plans to end the oil glut

The world’s top oil exporter Saudi Arabia is determined to reduce inventories further through an OPEC-led deal to cut crude output and raised the prospect of prolonged restraint once the pact ends to prevent a build up in excess supplies.

Saudi Energy Minister Khalid al-Falih, speaking during an investment conference in Riyadh, said on Tuesday the focus remained on reducing the level of oil stocks in OECD industrialized countries to their five-year average.

The Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries, plus Russia and nine other producers, have cut oil output by about 1.8 million barrels per day (bpd) since January. The pact runs to March 2018, but they are considering extending it. Via business.financialpost.com

Speaking of the oil market, here are some possibly relevant reading topics:

-US shale -Provincial election (2019) -The electric vehicle (EV) revolution -Completion of Keystone XL -Other pipelines

In relation to credit, we will be closely watching interest rates and their impact, as well as the impact of the new mortgage rules which come into effect January 1st, 2018.

In addition, we will be observing fly-in-fly-out as well as automation, Bill 21 and local issues. Some of these might be influenceable by the new Mayor and Council (or not).

It is well known that many changes to the credit, oil, and housing markets are often cyclical, but there might be longer-term elements, too. When confidence returns to our local housing market (all markets balance!) there may be a bump in demand. But are you expecting a rapid “v-shaped” recovery or more of a “new normal” Fort McMurray house price?

If you want to know what signs of recovery might look like, click here for an in-depth look.

If you find this post useful, please feel free to share it with your friends. Comments are welcome in the space below. Thank you for reading!

The following article The Effect of Oil Prices, Employment and Interest Rates on the Fort McMurray Housing Market is republished from www.ateamymm.ca

[anoldwound]

A Time To Be So Small - Adam/Mohinder [Heroes]

Title: A Time To Be So Small Characters/Pairings: Adam/Mohinder, implied Adam/Hiro Rating: R Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for 2x11; explicit sexual content Word Count: 2899 Prompt: #007 - Broken Summary: “He’s… well, he’s essentially gone insane. He was in there for quite a while, and the lack of oxygen to his brain killed a significant portion of his brain cells. Even with him, it appears it will take more time to gain the brain cells back, if they can come back at all.” A/N: For the slashyheroes15 Adam claim (here). Suffocated - didn’t know how many times - breathe? No, can’t do that. Brain‘s crawling out of ears, metaphorically speaking, with maggots, they’ve eaten your clothes, that’s not very good. Sunlight would be nice. Good to dream, good to dream. Maybe Saint Nicholas will dig you out, what a nice fellow, on those Coke bottles. Red - blood, stained with white, white stained with red, and it’ll go back where it came from because that’s how the machinery operates. Cracks - whiteness? Was it over now? Couldn’t be, too much to wish for, must keep it simple, like two maggots leaving or for his ear to stop itching. More white. Hallucinating, was what he was doing - wasn’t the first time, he had seen other things, like grateful waterfalls to drink from and fish swimming around in his little birdcage… Too white - --- “Mr. Monroe?” Monroe… one of his aliases; he’d always thought it’d had a sort of dignity to it, he loved stealing from dead historical figures. “Mr. Monroe? Can you hear me?” He opened his eyes - funny, he hadn’t known they’d been closed - and there was too much white, still, but he could make out some sort of dark shape. Too much effort to say anything - useless, anyway - he closed his eyes and fell asleep. --- There was some sort of conversation going on. “How has he been progressing?” asked one voice, it sounded vaguely familiar. “Not very well, I’m afraid,” said another - the one from before, the “Mr. Monroe?” one. “We had prematurely assumed that once he was out in the air again, his cells would begin to regenerate, and although that has happened to some extent… the damage done to his mind might be beyond repair at this point.” There was a pause. “How do you mean?” asked the first voice. “He’s… well, he’s essentially gone insane. He was in there for quite a while, and the lack of oxygen to his brain killed a significant portion of his brain cells. Even with him, it appears it will take more time to gain the brain cells back, if they can come back at all.” “So… he’s a clean slate, you’re saying.” “No, not exactly. It‘s a bit more complicated than that.” “Very well. Let me know of any more progress.” Clacking heels left the room, and the blipping of a heart monitor reverberated. --- Water dribbled into his mouth - blessed water, smooth and lovely - and he hacked on it a bit but he managed to get it down. “Good,” said the voice, the nice one, with the soothing lilt. “Your body’s almost finished regenerating, Mr. Monroe. You’ll be up and about in no time.” He opened his eyes a crack - still too white, bright, searing, but he could make out more of the dark shape this time - the outline of curls, the contour of a face. He tried to say something - didn’t know what he would have said - but he couldn’t; it hurt too much. “Here. Have some more water,” the voice said, and helpfully poured more of it into his mouth. It took another few tries, but then he could feel his vocal chords knitting back together, could feel them healing, regenerating, until they were whole again, and God it felt so good. “The maggots,” he rasped. “The… the maggots?” “They took my clothes, and they tore them up, you see. They used them in their sacrificial rituals…” There was a bit of silence, until the voice said, “Perhaps you’ll start making sense in the morning.” --- Dear God, the hunger. He clenched his stomach - pain -  he might’ve shouted something; he didn’t know what - There was a startled shuffling from the corner of the room - scrambling - and some food was placed before him, which he gobbled up instantly. “Are you okay?” asked the voice, concerned, and he nodded, although he wasn’t. “Are you sure?” He nodded again. “Very well.” The voice walked away - he looked over, finally, and managed to catch the back of his head before he left the room. It was easier to see now - the man had too many curls, black and silky. He laid his head back down and gazed listlessly at his empty plate, at the gray walls and the wheels on the bottom of his gurney. He could escape easily, if he wanted to, but it was nice here, and the man with the soothing voice gave him odd comfort. He was slowly regaining sense - it couldn’t have been more than two days since he’d gotten here (not that he could tell, really, time had become a sort of illusory thing to him), and his brain didn’t feel quite so curly and crawly and maggot-infested. He still had fish hallucinations from time to time, however. There was one waving at him from the doorway, and he turned on his side to ignore it. What a bothersome little pest. --- “I don’t even understand why we’re keeping him alive.” “Dr. Suresh - ” “Do you really think putting him back in a cell is going to stop him? If he tried to release the virus, who knows what else he’s capable of doing?” “I assure you, we have contingencies. Adam’s going to be locked in a completely isolated cell this time - no one is even going to go near him except for a few select, trusted people… one of which will be you, doctor.” “Me? Why?” “We’re going to need you to monitor his progress, to see if he ever fully regains his memory. Though I must warn you - Adam is very manipulative. If you even suspect for a second that he’s faking his insanity, you tell me right away. Don’t get sucked into his delusions of grandeur. Okay?” “Of course.” “Good.” The fish was smirking. He glared at it. --- His eyes were fully adjusted now, and he watched this Dr. Suresh periodically walk in the room, check his heart-rate and do other sorts of clinical things, with an idle detached-ness. How long would it be until Dr. Suresh betrayed him - didn’t mercifully kill him, and instead let him rot in another prison cell like the other person wanted (he thought it was Bob, but he couldn’t be sure). Although, he wasn’t certain if it was even possible to kill him, short of chopping off his head. Maybe he could even resurrect from that. You could never truly rely on a hypothesis until it was tested, after all… “How are you feeling?” Suresh asked, as was routine. “Keep an eye on the maggots,” he replied, as was also routine. “They’ll grow into cockroaches.” --- “How’s the patient?” “He’s been improving at a rapid rate. His body has finished regenerating, although I’m not sure his mind has completely healed itself yet. He is speaking more coherently, although what he’s saying is still nonsense. He keeps talking about maggots turning into cockroaches.” “I don’t trust it. Adam would be just the type to fake insanity in order to garner sympathy, or for some other reason. I say we put him in the isolated cell tomorrow.” Suresh said nothing, but Adam saw him give a small nod out of the corner of his eye. I wish you would just kill me, he thought, but didn’t say, because clearly no one was ever going to allow him just this one small favor. --- The fish had decided to lay down in the corner and stare at him all day, now that they were both trapped in this isolated cell far from human contact. Except for Suresh, who popped in every once in a while. For someone who wanted him dead, Suresh seemed oddly concerned about his well-being. He brought him food and asked him how he was and made sure the sheets were changed now and again. Adam didn’t feel quite sane yet - he never was, he thinks, and he never will be - but he was a little better, and now that he was, he needed to think of some way out of here. It was better than before - of course it was, anything was better than the place that will not be named - but still not enough, too boring, and no one to talk to besides that bloody fish who never talked back to him anyway. Of course, that’s when the thing decided to say, “You should be here. You’re too dangerous,” and of course the thing sounded exactly like Hiro, and he wanted to throw something at it but there were no throwable objects in the room, so he just glared and turned over on his bed. “Mr. Monroe?” The light outside turned on, and Suresh stood in front of the large window, clipboard held faithfully at his side. “Yes?” He sat up, and ignored the petulant looks Hiro-fish was giving him. “We need some of your blood,” Suresh said, and he seemed almost apologetic. “Someone has been severely injured on an assignment, and we need your blood to heal them.” He shrugged. “As though you need my permission. It’s the only reason you’ve kept me alive, isn’t it?” Suresh pursed his lips. “It would appear so,” he said, as though he disapproved of this, but he kept his opinions to himself and pressed the button to enter the cell. “How long has it been, Dr. Suresh?” Adam asked as Suresh took a needle out of his pocket. “How long has it been since I’ve been in here? I’ve lost track of time.” “Four months,” he said, and looked at Adam’s arm expectantly. He held it out, and Suresh began the preparations. “Four months. Not too long, then. My mind seems to have slipped away somewhat. Wonder where it is… perhaps it’s only popped out for a bit, and it’s going to come back later. When do you think it will be back, Dr. Suresh?” “I’m… I’m not sure. It might never return, if it hasn’t fully healed at this point.” He bit his lip, and Adam stared, old desires frothing back to the surface. “That’s a shame. I rather enjoyed having a semblance of sanity. How does it feel to be sane, doctor? Does it feel good? I wish I could remember.” Suresh didn’t reply, and began to draw Adam’s blood into the needle. “We’ll be putting this in an IV later.” “Jolly good.” Adam hummed to himself as Suresh continued to draw the blood, fairies dancing on his brain. “You always ask me how I am. Aren’t you going to ask me how I am?” “How are you, Mr. Monroe?” Suresh asked obligingly, now done with the needle and pulling away. “You can call me Adam. And the maggots have left, but the fish is still here.” “That’s nice,” he said absently. He looked at the large window for no apparent reason, and said, “I should go.” “Won’t you stay? I do enjoy companionship,” he purred, desires now pouring over the surface. The fish swam further into the corner and closed its eyes. Didn’t want to watch, the prude. Suresh faltered. “I… no. That’s not a good idea.” “It would be completely innocent, I assure you.” “I’m sorry. I have to go.” And he did, the tease, the door clicking shut quietly behind him. Adam fell back against his pillow, a tad frustrated. The fish snickered at him quietly. --- God, he wanted. He was sure that it was unintentional on Suresh’s part, but with every flick of his eyes, every casual brush of curls out of his face, every mild sigh - it sent him ablaze with want, and no matter how hard he tried, Suresh wouldn’t succumb. The Hiro-fish tsked at him from the corner (God, even a fish with Hiro’s voice was trying to be his conscience) as he got off with a whimper, and he politely told the fish to go fuck itself. Or him, if it was feeling generous. The fish declined, and he felt disappointed, because even fucking a figment of his imagination with Hiro’s voice would have been nearly as good as the real thing. Although the fact that it was a fish would’ve been mildly disturbing, but it was his warped mind that was creating these images and he could turn the fish into whatever he damn well pleased. He concentrated, trying to turn the fish (oh God, it was a carp, wasn’t it?) into a submitting Hiro-human, but the fish stubbornly continued to remain a fish, and Adam was kind of getting tired of all of this fish nonsense so he started wanking again. And of course Suresh comes walking in at that precise moment, a completely shocked expression on that pretty face of his. “Want to join in on the fun?” Adam suggested, looking up, stroking himself faster. The pleasure came through in shockwaves as he watched Suresh watch him - Suresh couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away; his pupils were a little dilated, and dear God it was all making the want even worse - better, even. He moaned loudly, his cock throbbing, his head thrown back, still watching Suresh, who was gulping and seemed to be rooted to the spot. “Don’t be shy,” Adam said softly. Suresh clearly wanted to say something - but no noise made its way out of his mouth. He jerked himself closer, almost involuntarily… Adam moaned again and stroked harder, the conflicted look on Suresh’s face making the pleasure shoot through his nerves, almost making him fly into some other plane of existence. Suresh seemed out of himself as well. His fingers slowly fumbled at his fly, un-zipping, and he began stroking himself also, and Adam was about ready to explode - which he did, in a sense; he came all over the bedspread with a shout, which made Suresh groan and swallow and his knees buckled a little bit. “Get over here,” Adam commanded hoarsely, shaking with anticipation. “I - I can’t,” he gasped. “Fine.” He stood up, still shaking, and walked over to Suresh, slamming his lips against his, wrapping his fingers around the hand that was stroking Suresh’s cock. “I can’t - do this - ” Suresh said brokenly, but Adam shushed him, and rubbed his cock against Suresh’s inner thigh, making him convulse and gasp again, such a pretty sound. Before long, they were on the bed - shouts - skin sliding against skin, heavy pants and long, drawn out moans, curls tangled in slim fingers and come everywhere - smooth, naked - ecstasy that rose up from down there into chests, releasing itself through cries of more and groans and groans and whimpers. The fish seemed to have disappeared (good riddance, the pest), and Adam fell panting against the pillow when it was all over, Suresh lying next to him, thunderstruck and in disbelief, but pretty disbelief, curls sticking to his face. “This cannot happen again,” Suresh said. Adam didn’t answer, just said, “What’s your name?” Suresh hesitated. “Mohinder,” he said, and Adam smiled. Getting out of here was going to be a piece of cake. --- “Tell me, Mohinder,” said Adam when Suresh came back the next day with some food, determinedly not looking at him, “do you ever get the feeling that the Company may not have the best of intentions?” “I don’t appreciate your attempts to manipulate me, you know,” he said, still not looking at him. “I’m not manipulating you. It’s just a simple question.” Suresh finally looked at him, an angry, pulsating fire in his eyes. “Really? Then why are you asking a question that could easily lead to me doubting whether what the Company is doing is right, which of course works in your favor, and would most likely eventually lead to me siding with you completely and breaking you out of this cell? I know what you did to Peter, and I know what you’re trying to do now. Don’t think that because I had a moment of weakness yesterday means that I’m under your thumb. You deserve to be in here.” Adam quirked an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that you wanted me dead, doctor.” “Killing you would be too kind, I think.” With that, Suresh left, and the air hung heavy in his wake. --- It wasn’t too much of a loss, really. So, he was alone again. It wasn’t the end of the world. How many times had it happened now? Too many to count on two hands and two feet. Alone - yes, alone - Even the fish was gone now, and the maggots (they turned into cockroaches and ran away), and now Mohinder Suresh was gone too, because he didn’t come by and leave him food anymore, it just arrived mysteriously every time he was hungry (must be a trick of some special that he didn’t know about). It was fine, fine. Adam was used to being alone. He had come to rely on it, it was one of life’s constants. It was fine. Fine fine fine fine fine - He fell into sleep, and even in his empty dreams he was alone, searching, empty. His brain started crawling and folding into itself again, days passing by unmarked, and he found himself not caring anymore.