#case 2: train delayed by. FIFTEEN MINUTES. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lianabrooks · 3 years ago

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I saw your response to the stutter post and I wanted to ask, if it's ok, I had no history of the speech apraxia stutter (the s-s-stutrer) but when i was 23 I would randomly become non-verbal or stutter like that alot. The doctors did a bunch of tests and they all came back normal, even an MRI. Do you know why? I have lots of mental illnesses including anxiety and trauma. I know you're not a professional I just want you're casual opinion

I'm so glad that post is still making the rounds and helping people! My answer is below the cut.

This is 100% based on my experience of a parent of children (now 20 and 13) with severe speech apraxia and selective mutism.

What you are describing (sudden onset of nonverbal behavior or stuttering) can be caused by: - brain trauma (concussion, stroke, high fever, inflammation of the brain) - anxiety - sensory overload If you've had an MRI and have ruled out trauma to the brain, my guess is you are experiencing a form of selective mutism associated with anxiety and sensory overload.

If that's the case the case what's happening is your brain is overwhelmed, there's too much going on, and so it shuts down non-essential processes to save energy for coping. Speech is something the human brain generally considers nonessential. As much as you want to communicate, your brain's default is to keep you breathing and safe. If your anxiety spikes, your brain is going to burn energy looking for the danger and shut down speech and language.

When your brain hits that point it is exhausting and frustrating to talk. It's just an incredible amount of work to fight your way past the fire in your brain and make the words happen... and that can produce a stutter. Your brain is fighting itself.

In my experience what works to help someone through this is: 1) addressing the root cause 2) planning ahead 3) prepping for conversations 4) creating a safe word to escape conversations 5) creating a safe space where you can quickly decompress 6) having backup communication

1- Address the Root Cause This is pretty simple. If you have trauma and anxiety you should do all you can to find someone trained to help treat the trauma done to you. It's going to take time, and it can be painful to address things that have happened to us, but this is important for your future health and happiness. Taking a small step today means a better future. It won't fix anything right away though, so I have more tips!

2 - Planning Ahead This works well for anyone with anxiety, speech delays, ADHD, and people who identify on the autism spectrum. Basically, having the schedule in advance means your brain has less to process in the moment because you know what is happening next. It reduces so many things you have to think about. So... - set multiple alarms --> As a parent I would say, "Okay, we need to run errands after breakfast. We'll go to the park and then to the gas station and grocery store. ... Okay, breakfast is over, let's get dressed and to the park, the gas station, and the grocery store. ... Okay, we are leaving in fifteen minutes for the park, the gas station, and the grocery store..." warning every five minutes allow them to transition. Once we got in the car I reviewed it again. When we finished at the first thing we'd review again... it's boring but it works. For adults, you set multiple alarms so you can transition better. - set one day apart to put things on your calendar, make a reasonable to-do list (always add extra time to everything so you have space for emergencies and traffic jams), and when you wake up you can review what's happening next - if you are going somewhere new try to research it online. Look at pictures, read reviews, plan several things you are excited to see/do/eat when you are there so you have things you know you want to do.

3 - Prep Conversations Just like planning ahead you can review things you want to say in advance. Some people pick how they plan to say hello to everyone at the office, some practice their lunch order, some just rehearse small talk or ways to introduce things they're interested in. - if this makes you more anxious, skip it

4 - Safe Words Are For Everyone Plan ahead for disaster and pick a phrase to use when you are overwhelmed. It can be as simple as, "I'm done." or as vague as "I don't love the vibe in here." - pick something and tell the people you are with (friends, partner, co-worker, teacher, boss, whatever) - reinforce usage of the word by walking away after using it - if my safe word is "I'm getting a headache." then my spouse knows I need to step away, go somewhere dark, and not have any noise because being stressed triggers migraines and - for me - quiet and dark are soothing - your safe word should get you somewhere safe - if someone is offended, tough cookies, this is a boundary issue. You are setting boundaries to keep yourself safe.

5 - Create A Safe Space Once you use your safe word you need to go somewhere that you can calm down. If you're at school or work this might be a corner, quiet conference room, or a hallway. It may mean you put on your headphones and listen to Metallica for fifteen minutes. - this is a thing you need to plan for when you are calm - you need to work with the people around you in advance and figure out what would be appropriate (ie - if you are flying a plane please do not drop everything to take a nap)

6 - What To Do In An Emergency At some point you will have a nonverbal episode in a situation where you can't use your safe word, can't retreat, and need to communicate. To keep yourself safe you need to bring an alternate form of communication. - keep a card in your wallet explaining that you are unable to communicate and what you need (quiet, headphones, a dark room, ect) - look into apps that will let you write or save pre-written directions

At the end of the day you need to be patient with yourself and accept that not all days are verbal days. You are going to have bad days where the words aren't going to come out, or where you stutter, or where you bother someone because you aren't as eloquent as they would like. It happens. It's just part of life.

I have a kid who didn't talk until they were almost five and who still sometimes communicates only in monkey squeaks and funny faces. It doesn't even slow our family down because we love this kid and that means we've learned the kid's language.

People who love you will take the time to learn your language. People who don't love you, don't get to judge you.

Having speech apraxia and a stutter is a problem in the workplace, but only because people are biased and ableist. It's not a reflection on your intelligence, work ethic, personality, or ability to work (not even if you're a motivational speaker - look at Stephen Hawking!). If someone at work gives you a hard time... look at what laws protect you where you love. Most countries have laws that punish companies who discriminate against people with disabilities. Protect your rights.

If you are still in school and they are giving you a problem, give 'em hell. I have fought school districts across a continent to make sure people with disabilities get the education they deserve, I am happy to send you specific help for that. Everyone has the right to an education.

If you have trouble from strangers... ignore them as best you can. People who don't know you and don't love you do not get to criticize you. I know that's hard to believe, but it's true. You are more important that a stranger's snap decision about you might make you out to be.

Good luck with everything. I hope you're able to recover and set boundaries that keep you healthy and happy.

- L

#speech apraxia #stutter #disability #nonverbal #speaking #selective mutism

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itsuki-minamy · 3 years ago

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LIMITED KINGSHIP, WAR STORIES:

CHAPTER 2: HEKIREKI & SENDEN

* Mini Episodes KFCN (List of Chapters) * Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Suddenly he realized that the enemy was gone.

The surroundings were full of the dead. Most of the folded corpses belonged to members of the "Purgatory" clan who wore black clothes. Fifteen minutes ago, a hasty force led by Gouki Zenjo raided that warehouse after being contacted by the intelligence department. And then the warehouse turned into a terrible battlefield.

With "Hekireki" bloody on his shoulder, Zenjo started looking for the next enemy to attack. But that no longer existed.

The battle was over and the remnants were hunting. There were still some in black who resisted, but it was only a matter of time before they were crushed or smashed. While he was thinking that, Bado's iron spear pierced one of the black ones, and Azuma's twin sword stabbed another. The "Purgatory" clan member, who had decent fighting ability, didn't seem to be staying anywhere.

"How boring."

He hit the field in an unsightly way and lowered "Hekireki" to the ground.

The next moment, the pile of corpses exploded.

"Zenjo!"

Fresh blood came out from the sword wound all over the body, and flames came from both feet, the one in black clothes was good at fighting. A deadly surprise attack that hid the corpse of a colleague. Long before he understood it, Zenjo tried to shake "Hekireki" with his own super reaction.

He could not.

According to a later investigation, it was an inadvertent collaboration between those in black. One in black that lay behind Zenjo was dying, but was still breathing. With the last of his strength, he grabbed the "outside" blade, regardless of whether his fingers fell.

That caused a delay of a few seconds. Zenjo was just looking at the flaming fingers approaching in front of him, holding "Hekireki's" fixed handle.

But he just grabbed Zenjo's nose.

"You need more than that..."

The one in black clothes who attacked Zenjo stopped in midair. Blood poured from the edge of his mouth which opened and closed with bloody eyes wide open. A thin saber protruded from his chest, and the saber that pierced his chest diagonally from below suddenly stopped the one in black clothing.

"Ah!"

A cheerful voice that did not seem to belong to the place, resounded behind the one in black clothes.

"I'm sorry I made a mistake! Zenjo-san, can you take care of it please?"

It was as easy as asking him to take the remote there. After blinking, Zenjo passed by "Hekireki" and frequently shook the ones in black clothes.

The flames that clung to both feet disappeared.

The body of the man in black, who had lost his neck, was thrown to the ground. A young man standing there waved his saber and wiped off the blood. The friendly look reminded him of a laughing dog.

"No, I made a mistake. If you tap it, it can't be the case, huh? Hahaha…"

"Kuze. You saved me."

Young Kuse laughed cheerfully and waved.

"I just did something extra. Zenjo-san, you could have handled it with a margin."

"No, I couldn't react now. I would have been 'without a nose' at best, because it was aiming at my head."

"Well, is that so? That's good. Soon it's new soba season!"

Zenjo smirked as he tapped on Kuze's shoulder, saying that he was out of focus.

"This season's buckwheat noodles are pretty good too. I'll use chopsticks when I get back to the barracks. Thanks for your help."

"Oh then, make it soba."

"What? Are you going to ask me to make arrangements again?"

Kuse was smiling. Zenjo saw the smile as if he was amazed. Not suitable for a bright appearance, this young man had a very persistent character.

"Well, I wish I could go home."

"Oh, thanks!"

As Kuze struck a gutsy pose, Zenjo shrugged and walked towards a group of hurrying troops who had begun to take care of the remaining work.

++++++++++

The war was escalating.

Kagutsu Detention Center "Red King" crackdown operation. The attack from "Scepter 4" intended to kill Kagutsu Genji was unsuccessful in retrospect. Although the force of "Purgatory" was greatly reduced, the original purpose of the operation was not finally achieved, and Kagutsu left his territory and fled, and the remaining clan members divided into thousands and went into hiding. The hive was destroyed, but the queen bee and the soldier bees were flying now.

The activities of the scattered members of the "Purgatory" clan were almost the same as before. Whenever something happened, there was a danger that they would explode. "Scepter 4" chased after them and they were incapacitated as soon as they were discovered, but "Purgatory" wasn't just silently hunted to death. The damage caused by a fierce counterattack who did not care about his own life was turning into a social problem that could not be covered even by "Tokijikuin".

There were two pressing issues.

One was the search and murder of Kagutsu as soon as possible. As long as that "King" will continue to exist on earth, this war would never end.

And the other was to increase the strength of "Scepter 4".

The battle with "Purgatory", who burned the people, burned the city and even burned themselves, was slowly shaving the staff of "Scepter 4". To make up for the loss, they touted that they had the cause of the war and recruited a large number of talented personnel from the relevant ministries.

Shuichiro Kuze was one of those supplemental staff members.

Originally a police officer, he achieved outstanding results on both his aptitude and skill tests, and joined the "Scepter 4" running unit at exceptional speed. He was a rare human resource who had already been dispatched several times and was not afraid to fight the deadly "Purgatory", but instead displayed a simulation as if he was enjoying it.

For some reason, Kuze teamed up with Zenjo.

Even now, Kuze and Zenjo were undergoing simulated one-on-one training in the training ground of the "Scepter 4" barracks. Except for the fact that the product was a bamboo sword, it was a form of training that came as close to the actual battle as possible. Even attacks on key points were tolerated wherever they were covered by armor.

Kuze raised the bamboo sword to eye level and turned its blade towards Zenjo.

Zenjo carried a large bamboo sword on his shoulder and was about to attack him.

Kuze's specialty was "pushing". His stab, fired by explosive acceleration with a different ability, was roughly equal to the speed of a bullet. It would be impossible to react if it were the perception of an ordinary person.

But, of course, Zenjo was not an ordinary person.

"Let's go!"

The next moment that Kuze said that, the figure disappeared.

An extraordinary light that glowed fluttering blue like the tail of a meteor. Before recognizing it, Zenjo's body was moving. The speed God's sword judgment darted into the void on the right.

Zenjo's bamboo sword touched Kuze's sword that jutted out without fail.

"Ah!"

As he wielded the sword of pursuit, Zenjo was impressed. Viewed from above, the location of the different abilities would have looked like a rank "nine". A blow from outside the field of vision due to explosive acceleration, but it did not exceed Zenjo's reaction speed.

"Che!"

Kuze sped up again, leaving a childish click of the tongue. As he repeated sharp turns ignoring the laws of physics, he jumped incessantly. He was like a spring-loaded toy that swept across the training ground.

Zenjo stopped chasing him with his eyes and closed his lids.

Behind.

Before he felt it, his body was still moving. He turns and cut the space behind him. The cut that was shot deflected Kuze's thrust horizontally upward and hit him like he was a face shield.

"Damn!"

With a stupid voice, Kuze struck and fell to the ground of the training ground. If he had been serious, he would have lost his nose.

"This is the ninth."

Carrying the bamboo sword on his shoulder again, Zenjo said that without pride. Kuze, who had stretched out into a large shape, lifted his upper body as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I thought I could pull it off now... Zenjo-san, do you have eyes behind you?"

"Well, it's clear. You can understand it even if you can't see it."

"Mm... Zenjo-san, another one! Please."

When Kuze lifted his index finger, Zenjo was truly astonished and showed the training ground clock with his chin.

"It's closing time. It will be tomorrow."

"Really? Absolutely tomorrow!"

"I wish they hadn't sent me."

Saying that, while he was a bit crowded, Zenjo headed for the exit. Kuze also put the bamboo sword in a bag and bounced after him.

After taking a shower together, they had dinner later.

The barracks cafeteria was quiet, probably because it was late. Zenjo ordered a hazaru soba and Kuze a kitsune udon, and they ate together.

Kuze talked to Zenjo all the time while he ate.

"Zenjo-san, are you attached to the army?"

"Hmm?"

" I belonged there. There are a lot of people like that in 'Scepter 4', right?"

Surely it was so. The personnel of "Scepter 4" came mainly from other security organizations. Unless they didn't lack combat training on a daily basis, they couldn't withstand the battle with "Purgatory."

However, the situation was different for Zenjo.

After slurping his soba, he said...

"I am from a mountain."

"Mountain?"

"When I was waving a stick in the mountains, I met Habari, so I followed him."

Kuze blinked twice as he pinched the fried food with chopsticks.

"Well, what was that? What kind of situation?"

"Thanks, like I said."

Answering only that, Zenjo took a sip of soba again.

Kuze stared at Zenjo for a while with a surprised face, and then...

"Fu…"

He shook his shoulders and started laughing.

"Hahahahahahahaha! What's wrong, did you meet the commander in the mountains and follow him? Hahaha, Zenjo-san, are you a youkai?"

Zenjo was disappointed in Kuze, who bent over his body and laughed like a child. It was surprising that he was laughed at, although it was not his intention to make him laugh.

"No, sorry, I'm not going to make a fool of myself. But that was very interesting."

"Is it interesting?"

"It's incredibly interesting! I've never met such a person!"

"Mmm...?"

He wondered if that was the case. Originally, Zenjo was a guy who didn't understand many things. If they told him it was interesting, it would be true.

"No, you're good at 'Scepter 4' after all. It's not boring."

As he cheerfully said that, Kuze drank the udon from him. As Zenjo ate the soba noodles, he looked at Kuze as if he was looking at something strange.

"Bored?"

"Yes. The workplace in front of me was already boring. Anyone can do it, such as document preparation, on-site verification and traffic control. More like this, a fierce car chase with the criminal! Fighting battle! Shooting! I was imagining it."

He lifted the bowl and drank the soup.

"So it's so boring that I shouldn't do it. When I was thinking about it, they asked me and I came to try it. I can do what I want every day! It's a lot of fun, right? That's why I think you adapt very well to "Scepter 4"!

Zenjo scratched his cheeks while Kuze drank, wiped his mouth and clasped his hands with a "Thanks for the food!"

"Uh..."

"Isn't that the case with Zenjo-san? Don't you do it because it's medicinal?"

"Eh?"

He wondered if that was the case. Was he enjoying the battle with "Purgatory"?

There was no doubt that he was elevated during the battle. On the battlefield where a momentary judgment divides life and death, that feeling that inspires all cells cannot be experienced anywhere else.

But he didn't think he was struggling to taste it.

When he swung his sword under Habari's command in "Scepter 4", he felt that he was breathing properly. It seemed natural to do so and it "fit." He didn't know if he could describe it as funny.

"Well, that's correct."

It became difficult to think of the way and Zenjo answered that.

"That's right! Well, I'm glad you feel the same way as me!"

Kuze laughed in a friendly way and then a mysterious light fell on his eyes.

"But lately, it's more fun practicing with Zenjo-san than interacting with 'Purgatory'."

"Really?"

"Yes, because Zenjo-san is much stronger than them, so it's fun to do it. Hey, Zenjo-san. Someday, with me…"

Kuze cut off the words when he suddenly remembered. After blinking several times, the mysterious light disappeared. Then suddenly he stood up and held the bowl of kitsune udon in his hands.

"Sorry, it's nothing! So, good night!"

With a smile, Kuze went to the place where the dishes were being returned.

As he drank his soba, Zenjo rebelled against Kuze's words.

(Well, I'm glad you feel the same way as me!)

Maybe it wasn't.

Although they belonged to the same "Scepter 4" and wielded a saber, he felt that something was decisively different between him and Kuze.

He didn't know what it was. He didn't want to think until he knew. Thinking again that he was okay, Zenjo dropped the green onion seasoning into crushed chunks.

++++++++++

Three days later, the hidden member of the "Purgatory" clan in Minari-cho, Fengze-ku, was discovered.

According to the information department report, there was only one member. However, the problem is that he was hiding in the houses of common people. They threatened the inhabitants and parasitized their lives themselves. A bully lurked in his house and behaved inattentive. The father of the family, who could not bear such a situation, rushed to a public institution and discovered his existence.

In response to this, "Scepter 4" quickly formed a unit that rushed over. They ran to the site to "exterminate" the abominable parasite.

However, this time, it was not possible to get through the gate with the transport vehicle and cut it randomly. After all, the other party was alone and the detained hostages were a mother and two young children, according to the father's information. If they took action inadvertently, it would have the worst consequences.

The operation required speed and stealth. "Scepter 4", the deputy director, Gen Shiotsu, selected the appropriate personnel and devised a strategy.

Shuichiro Kuse was included in the staff, but it was boring for him.

Kuze was toying with that idea while biting his yawn in the car.

It had already been three hours since they arrived at the place. Because "Scepter 4" stood out in a transport vehicle, they used an ordinary sedan type and stopped from hiding to blind spot. Kuze sighed softly, looking at him stagnant out the window.

He wished he could rush in and kill him.

It would be easy. He would jump out the door, go through the second floor and invade, and drive the saber into the heart of the guy in black. That was all that was needed.

Kuze understood why he was selected as a runner. The small body was suitable for infiltration, and the "Senden" saber he had was also a slim custom-made one, so it should work effectively in a small room.

So he wanted to do it as soon as possible.

Finally, the long-awaited command came from insiders.

"The target has taken the hostage. I enclose the location."

"Yes!"

He sprang to his feet, grabbed the saber, opened the passenger seat door, and Kuze broke into a run.

In seconds, the target house came into view. When he was hiding behind the wall of a neighbor's house and observing the situation, the transmitter spoke a voice again.

"The target is in the bathroom on the second floor. The children cannot confirm the whereabouts of their mother in the next room. Each member must pay the utmost attention and do everything in their power to secure the hostages."

"Kuze, ready!"

With a light tone, Kuze pulled "Senden" out of the scabbard.

He held his breath and waited for the moment. The plan of the house is engraved on his head. All the images of how he would move, what kind of path he would take and how he would kill the one in black clothes were created in Kuze's brain.

Kuze himself did not know that there were no hostages there.

"Fast!"

By the time Shiotsu's voice echoed, Kuze was jumping.

He jumped off the wall, landed on the ceiling, and ran. At the edge of the field of vision, he could see a blue trail that went through him in the same way. There were a total of four runners, all their own competitors, who aspired to the life of a single man in black. Kuze licked his lips and accelerated to the point where the shingles broke.

He jumped with the same impulse, he broke the second floor window with his body and ran inside.

"Eh?!"

He heard a high-pitched voice. Kuze invaded the children's room on the second floor. According to the information, two children who were less than elementary school students were shaking in a corner of the room.

Kuze ignored it.

The problem was that of black clothes. If he killed him, everything would be solved. So that should take precedence. Kuze thought that way and stepped out into the second floor hallway.

Their eyes met.

There was a figure in black clothes in the bathroom that was left open. However, when Kuze found him, he was strangling and using the children's mother as a shield.

"Stay away, blue clothes! This woman will die!"

He could barely see the one in black who was angry. Very firmly, he was hiding behind the woman. The scared woman shook her head, while she shook her head, he looked and disappeared his face burned in black.

Before thinking of anything, Kuze was kicking the ground.

If he killed him, that would be it. That was the only priority, and everything else was wiped from Kuze's head.

Many things happened at the same time.

"Kuze, stop!" One of the rushing staff members yelled.

"Damn it!" The man in black's burned face turned red, and the flame-filled woman screamed in tears.

Time seemed to flow slowly. He could feel precisely the extraordinary light of "Senden", the heat of the flames that sprouted from the face of the man in black and the smell of the flesh that enveloped her.

In the slowdown time, Kuze analyzed various factors and...

(Oh, this person can't be helped anymore.), he thought.

Too easily, he cut off the hostage's life.

This being the case, the hostage's body was no longer a problem. It was just a corpse, a wall of flesh less than 8 inches.

It did not hinder "Senden".

With a half-smile, Kuze stabbed hard forward.

A bright blue tip pierced the woman's chest, and the heart of the man in black was skewered and glued to the bathroom wall.

"......"

The woman opened and closed her mouth. Kuze tilted his head and looked at her face, thinking that she looks like a dying goldfish.

When Kuze drew the saber, the woman and the one in black fell one on top of the other. Their bloods mixed.

The bodies clung to each other and wet Kuze's shoes.

He takes a breath and inform the others.

"We have deactivated the objective. The mission is complete."

At the same time, an angry sound rang out from behind.

"Kuze! Damn! What did you do?!"

He thought, and looked at the owner of the voice as if he was confused. It was Shinohara, who belonged to the same group as him. He was yelling something when he flushed with anger, but Kuze couldn't understand the meaning of the word. He turned his neck and face away to keep them from flying off.

The frozen facial expressions of the two boys, looking through the door, were reflected in Kuze's field of vision.

++++++++++

"Do you know what you did?"

"Scepter 4", Shiotsu made a heavy voice in the barracks interview room.

Shuichiro Kuze, standing in front of him, replied as if nothing had happened.

"I killed the member of the 'Purgatory' clan. I think it was an unavoidable decision in that situation."

"Right now, 'Purgatory' is not the problem. The problem is Kuze, you stabbed the hostage and killed her."

"I did not murder her. At that time, the woman had already been killed by the one in black clothes. Should I be so reprimanded for damaging her corpse?"

Shiotsu had various reports in front of him.

"Shinohara's report is different. At that time, Shinohara said that the woman was still alive. However, he testified that you ignored the warning and approached the black-robed one and went through him."

"In my eyes, she looked dead."

Kuze spoke clearly.

"I think it would have been difficult to help her, even if she had a break. Is it the right decision to leave the dangerous clansman to help a dying woman? If the action was delayed, hers, two of her children and I could have been euthanized."

"It is not you who should judge whether the woman would be saved or not."

"The judgment of the site should be left to the members of the site."

Shiotsu groaned softly.

What Kuze said was correct in some respects. In the battle with "Purgatory", a momentary misjudgment could be fatal. And that moment came innumerably. It was not enough to have many lives if they were all compared with the regulations of the body and the current law. Above all, Kuze said that a certain amount of excessive acts should be allowed to protect one's life.

But…

Shiotsu watched Kuze's expression.

There was no expression floating there. Self-blame, regret, remorse. He couldn't read any of the emotions the one with the almost innocent human hands would have.

Shiotsu muttered to himself that that was the real problem.

"Kuze..."

At that moment, Shiotsu silently inhaled, and then...

"Where do you think the meaning of 'Scepter 4' is?"

"Eh…?"

"Answer it. What's 'Scepter 4' for?"

For the first time, the color of hesitation reached Kuze's expression.

As he listened to Shiotsu, Kuze replied.

"Kill the enemy. Annihilate "Purgatory" and bring peace to society."

Shiotsu sighed deeply and said.

"No. You are definitely misunderstanding."

"......"

"Our mission is to protect the general public. The sword to protect those who cannot resist the weapon of incompetence, that is 'Scepter 4'."

"It's the same as I said, right?"

In the words that Kuze muttered, unprecedented emotions appeared.

He was frustrated.

"Killing those in black clothes is to protect the general public. If they are left unattended, tens or even hundreds of people will die if they are not treated well. To avoid that, isn't it natural to leave two people alone?"

"Still, we should not be the ones to kill. We should be the ones to protect the people. If there is a defenseless civilian, that is why we have the power to protect ourselves."

"It's stupid."

Kuze laughed through his nose. His dark and bright gaze seemed harsher, as he generally had a friendly gaze.

"Why do we have to do that? It is so stupid for a good person to be sacrificed for an inferior person."

Shiotsu closed his eyes.

What swirled around his chest was not anger at Kuze, but responsibility for himself.

He may have been too impatient to make up for the personnel lost in the battle with "Purgatory". He had hired a person who lacked the most important qualities, distracted only by the ability to fight. He should have known well what would happen if that person had a different ability and special power.

People who cannot control themselves will eventually use their different abilities as they wish.

How is it different from "Purgatory"?

Shiotsu slowly opened his eyes and said in a low voice,

"Shuichiro Kuse. Say goodbye to "Scepter 4" from now on."

++++++++++

Kuze, who came out of the interview room, was looking vaguely at the ceiling of the hallway.

(I blew it.), he thought.

With that in mind, he sighs. This time, he looked down at the ground and started walking.

When he was called by Shiotsu, Kuze had decided what he should do. That was a field decision and he didn't think he had done anything wrong. He intended to stick to that statement.

It is the members of the field who exchange lives. However, it was not uncommon for him to be blamed for a later trial. It was a common feeling not only for Kuze but also for the ER personnel.

Shiotsu was smart and looked closely at the members. That is why he thought that he would not give such a severe punishment based on his thoughts.

"He was telling me something strange."

Kuze lied and looked at his hand. When he focused his consciousness there, the blue glow of the extraordinary shimmered.

It was proof that he was an excellent person and a chosen one.

Kuze couldn't respond well to Shiotsu's words asking the meaning of "Scepter 4". That was because Kuze didn't know. Therefore, he got a rag out of there. It didn't matter if the general public died or lived, he knew that his true intentions would probably not be forgiven within the organization, so he hid it.

The important thing for Kuze was to use that power in all directions to fight. Fight "Purgatory", bypass the momentary deadline and end the life of the enemy. Never in a dull life until now, was it a bright day.

That was stolen from him.

Because he took a boring life from a boring human.

Kuze sighed again and suddenly raised his face.

A familiar giant was walking down the hall. Kuze laughed and raised a hand.

"Hey, Zenjo-san."

"Oh, Kuze?"

Zenjo's eyebrows widened when he noticed that Kuze was there for the first time.

"What are you doing in a place like this? Is it training?"

"No."

Kuze laughed bitterly and...

"Hey, I've been preaching to the vice principal. I'm here for that."

"Oh, Shiotsu? It's loud."

Sympathy reached Zenjo's eyes. Seeing that, Kuze's smile changed to a natural one.

That person knew himself.

He had always felt that way. Zenjo, like himself, rejoiced in the fight. He was a person who should have the nature of killing people rather than helping people. So, Kuze was sure that if he talked about the situation, this person would be on his side.

"But you're almost right."

Zenjo simply denied the idea.

"Eh?"

"Shiotsu is loud, but he's always right. If he claims something from you, you're wrong. I wonder what he was. Apologize properly."

"......"

Kuze looked at his toes.

"Yes, what is that?"

"If that is all."

"I see."

Kuze scratched his head again with a bitter smile.

"In a way that's correct. I thought it was suitable for 'Scepter 4', but surprisingly, isn't it?"

"Eh?"

Zenjo mysteriously shook his head, thought for a moment and then nodded.

"That's right. You said you were the same as me, but I think you are different from me."

"......"

"I can't put it right. You might not be good at 'Scepter 4'. You should stop in time."

Zenjo said that in a wonderful and irresponsible way.

Kuze was about to start laughing. Interestingly, he didn't get mad at all. This was because it had been broadcast that Zenjo was saying that from the bottom of his heart without any malicious intent.

After all, Kuze didn't dislike Zenjo. He was clean, natural, and stronger than anyone. That's why he liked dealing with this person, because he could fight without shackles.

He regretted thinking that he couldn't do that from now on.

Then, Kuze suddenly glowed.

"Ah!"

"Hmm? What's wrong?"

"Sorry Zenjo-san, I just remembered my errand now! I'm done!"

In a hurry, Kuze ran down the hall. Zenjo said, "Oh...?", and gave up, but Kuze suddenly stopped and looked back.

"Please help me again later!"

Zenjo laughed and nodded.

"Oh, I have to be sent."

"Still, please!"

Kuze ran away, saying just that with a smile.

It was that night that Shuichiro Kuze disappeared with "Senden".

++++++++++

When he got out of the transport car, a warm wind caressed Zenjo's cheeks.

The policeman raised his face and smelled a faint smell on the wind. He was delving into the battlefield with "Purgatory". He smelled like sticky, burnt blood.

According to the map, the back alley where the discovery of the men in black was reported was divided into T-shapes. The unit split into three hands, blocking all exits. The most important thing to prevent was that those in black clothes escaped. They had to make sure to capture or neutralize them, even if they took some risks.

At that moment, in front of Zenjo, the entrance to the back alley was black and open.

"Over there."

At random, Zenjo entered an alley.

The back alley was narrow and dark. Polyethylene buckets and outdoor units blocked the street, and the walls of the building that approached from the left and right blocked the sunlight. If one in black clothes came out of the shadows and emitted a flame of extraordinary skill, there would be no way around it. It could be said that this was also a dead place.

Still, Zenjo was not afraid and advanced slowly.

The process suddenly stopped.

Shinohara, who was following Zenjo, said groaning.

"What is the situation? What is this?"

One in black clothes was dead, as if his back was against the wall of the building.

Wide-eyed and in a pool of blood. The burned right hand was soaked in the blood clot, burning and producing black smoke. This was probably the cause of the smell.

In the first place, it was a mystery from the initial discovery report.

It was said that several of the black clothes were fighting. At the time, there were no "Scepter 4" units deployed nearby, and since the Hiiragi incident, the police had been told to stay away from the men in black. Most likely it was a fight between those in black, but in the current situation where they were hiding in a scattered way, he did not think they would do such an outstanding act.

So who was fighting the ones in black?

Zenjo, who was inspecting the corpse in black, said the answer.

"It's Kuze."

"What…?!"

"It is pierced all over the body. This is due to 'Senden'."

Saying that, Zenjo stood up.

Since that night, Kuze's whereabouts have been known to be uncertain. Kuze's legal status was the same as an "Illegal Strain" since he was fired from "Scepter 4". They had to capture him and put a skill suppressor on him, but there weren't enough personnel to track him down in "Scepter 4".

Kuze killed the ones in black and, perhaps, he was still hiding in that place.

"But why is Kuze here?"

Shinohara said that, and suddenly closed his mouth.

Someone slowly emerged from the darkness behind the alley.

It was also one of black clothes.

"Oh, fufu...!"

His face was distorted with anger and hatred, and blood was pouring from his entire body to the point that his black suit was still drenched in red and black. Legs wobbly, the one in black slowly approached.

"Gah!"

The tip of the saber protruded from his chest.

The saber was instantly pulled out and the one in black collapsed to his knees.

Zenjo spoke the name from behind him, standing there.

"Hekireki."

"Oh, Zenjo-san!"

Dressed in a dark green raincoat, Kuze smiled at his face, which had been bathed in blood, and called out to Zenjo cheerfully.

"No, I'm lucky! I can't get it all of a sudden!"

"What are you doing?"

"What?"

Eyes blinking, Kuze looked around him, and mysteriously at himself.

"What's wrong? It's not a job. I got fired from 'Scepter 4'."

He shook "Senden" to spill the blood.

"But if you look for the black clothes, 'Scepter 4' will come, right? Maybe Zenjo-san is there! I thought it was good."

While he smiled, Kuze,

"I never thought we could meet at once! I'm lucky! So…"

He crouched down and pointed the tip of "Senden".

"Let's go."

Before Zenjo thought of anything, Kuze was kicking the ground.

The glow of the blue genie was diffusely reflected in the narrow back alley. He bounced off the ground, scaled walls, emergency stairs, he went up, down, left and right, and hit everything, drawing an unpredictable trajectory like a pinball.

Shinohara, who was behind Zenjo, couldn't even follow Kuze with his eyes. But Zenjo reacted.

It was also an action before thinking. The thick blade of "Hekireki" flipped up as the wind scattered.

The dark green raincoat split in half.

Kuze was no longer there. He twisted in midair, tossed his raincoat, and landed on the ground.

Zenjo kept "Hekireki" jumping and stopped in an unprotected posture. Looking at his empty torso, a fierce smile appeared on Kuze's mouth.

(I caught you!), he thought.

With extraordinary power in his legs, Kuze tried to strike a stroke of luck.

He felt the shock in his chest.

"Eh?"

He lost the strength of his leg. His soles did not separate as if they were stuck to the ground. Interestingly, he looked under his feet and saw a saber thrust into his chest.

"Ah?"

When he coughed, a blood clot spilled from his lips.

Kuze slowly looked at Zenjo.

Zenjo was flipping "Hekireki", with just his right hand.

Before he knew it, he held another saber in his left hand. That pierced through Kuze's chest.

"Oh, wow...!"

Kuze distorted the edge of his mouth when he heard Shinohara make a panicky voice.

"Hey, Shinohara. It's a pay cut to have a saber stolen from you."

When Zenjo drew the saber, Kuze sank into place.

The blood was overflowing. The color of his face was white and transparent. It was clear to everyone that it was no longer useful.

Still, Kuze was somewhat satisfied. He looked at Zenjo and laughed weakly.

"After all... you are amazing, Zenjo-san. I couldn't get over you."

"Kuze."

There was no anger or sadness in Zenjo's expression, just confusion.

"What did you want to do?"

"What?"

Kuze shook his shoulders and laughed. Eventually the laughter turned into a cough and the exhaled blood created a series of stains in the alley.

"I wanted to. A real and potentially deadly battle with Zenjo-san."

Breathing out, Kuze fell onto his side.

"It was fun."

That was the last word from him.

Zenjo, holding a bloody saber, shot a confused look at Kuze's corpse.

#k #k project #k fan clan #scepter 4 #habari jin #shiotsu gen #zenjo gouki #kagutsu genji

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idratherdreamofjune · 4 years ago

Text

Someone requested I share about the experience of fighting a COVID outbreak in my workplace (a nursing home). This happened last Oct/Nov and is already sort of a blur in my head (partly because I worked the night shift for it). At the time I suspected the details would fade, so I started jotting down bullet-pointed moments in my journal. Having been forced to experience history, I want to share my own little corner of it. So here are [most of] the minimally-edited odds and ends collected over seven weeks on “the Unit”:

It started as four rooms behind a duct-taped & zippered plastic curtain at the end of a hall - “a slide projector and a bed sheet” as I told my family cheerily over the phone.

“The old way” refers to how we did things yesterday, and tomorrow there will be another new change

Getting tired of requesting supplies from outside and never receiving them; considering rephrasing as demands

Damp-dusting with Virex; we are our own housekeeping staff for the first three weeks (when we have time, which is increasingly hard to spare)

Constantly bumping face shields with the CNA as we roll a patient together

Pillows and then blankets are scarce as deliveries from laundry outside are delayed, so when a patient was sent out I reappropriated the clean-enough blankets for their roommate

Patterns begin to emerge even in week one - when a patient takes a turn for the worse it happens suddenly and drastically

Catching the local news on a TV and realizing that one of the new deaths in the county was ours

-------

Week Two cemented the unspoken understanding that no matter how much of a disaster you walk into at shift change, the proper response is always “It’s fine, don’t worry about it!”

Expanded to two full halls

Scavenging with the CNA in the wasteland of the “airlock” outside the unit; three rooms had been cleaned out but in the fourth we struck gold: two and a half packages of chux!

Getting rattled when the phone rings at 2 am because it’s probably word of another patient about to be delivered, disoriented and upset, through the zipper door.

“We have -” *pause* “- twenty to thirty patients!”

Every night I loose another layer of skin inside sweaty gloves

We all agree that, between stress and the sweaty PPE, working on the COVID unit is the perfect way to lose the “Quarantine fifteen”.

The oldest nurse on the unit - who volunteered on day two of the outbreak because most of the positive patients were hers - goes home with a fever and ends up in the ICU

--------------------

Late in week three we expand again to three halls, peaking at 56 patients

As staff cases spike the rules are adjusted to allow work on the COVID unit as soon as you’re asymptomatic

Rumors trickle in: outside they’re so understaffed that the Executive Director is working the floor as a CNA

The first three recovered patients were sent back through the airlock but we were all too tired and busy to take more than passing notice

Working on election night was an experience, I had to tell a patient who woke up at 6 am that, no, we still don’t have an official president, so sorry

Limited IV pole availability leads to creative solutions like the classic “stick a thumbtack in the wall” and the new favorite “just use one of the curtain hooks”

Limited IV fluid is a bigger problem

In report from day shift: “This was the first day we all cried within the same 15 minutes.��

--------------

Weeks four and five run together

Word ran through the unit that a housekeeper had just walked in, and we welcomed her with great excitement

EMTs trying to refuse to take our patients to the crowded hospital - I was never trained what to do when emergency services stay outside and try to change the family’s mind

CNA in full PPE with a huge red biohazard bag over one shoulder: “I’m the COVID Santa!”

Remdesivir is now the doctors’ drug of choice, but no one can pronounce it for at least a week

One night the county coroner has to come twice. She puts a mask on the bodies before double-bagging “since the drive is a little bumpy”

Twice-weekly testing results no longer deliver lines of positive patients to our door as most now have it or have had it

The day after the unit shrinks back to two halls I am interrupted by a nurse I haven’t seen on the unit before, looking for a patient who moved off the unit days ago... “When did you start on the COVID unit?” is met with a moment of concerned silence; she did not at all intend to be on the COVID unit!

-------

For the last two weeks of operations we have little more than a handful of patients, then just one

As the unit begins to be, somehow, overstaffed, a “first shall be last” policy is implemented and the more recent volunteers are returned to the outside to work with recovered patients

“Today has been like the Twilight Zone” - report from day shift about Thanksgiving on the unit with one patient and new admissions coming in outside

Night shifts by myself with the patient - I never thought I’d be so bored at work, much less on the unit

I may actually miss waking up to sunsets, which I’ve found to be calming

#COVID nurse #covid experience #plague nurse #I mean thank God it wasn't really yersinia pestis or - even worse - ebola #COVID gothic #;P #mine #in roughly chronological order #wow there is a lot of this....

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chiefnooniensingh · 5 years ago

Text

I Won’t Hesitate (for you) Chapter 10

Chapter 10: I can’t keep it all together

In this chapter: In the past, Isobel Bracken-Evans finds something that changes her life forever. In the present, time is running out and Alex is stuck. Michael is more and more honest, but is he as trustworthy as he seems?

A/n: A little shorter than usual perhaps, but we're hurtling towards the end here. Anyone have any idea yet?

As always, a special thanks to Aileen (@acomebackstory), Callie (@callieramics), @hm-arn, @royalshadowhunter, @ladymajavader and May (@merlinss) over on Tumblr for their continued support and cheerleading. I don’t know if I would’ve finished it without you guys!

So @Lire_Casander guessed both last week's title and the one the week before that. Chapter 7 was called You should give me a chance (this can't be the end), which is one of the most heartbreaking lines of the song Still in love with you by the Scorpions, and I always imagine Malex while singing it. I even made a gifset of it. Chapter 8 was called Come Back (I still need you) which is from Hold on by Chord Overstreet.

Can anyone guess this week's?

also on: ao3

other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

June, 1934

Isobel Evans-Bracken was clearing out the attic of their new house. They’d been living there for well over a year, yet the attic had filled up with their stuff fairly quickly, as stuff was wont to do. Old reports cards and art projects Mrs Evans had kept, and Isobel had never had the heart to throw away; pictures of her and her brothers before she and Max were adopted; toys from when she was little – okay, so maybe it was mostly her stuff. Her husband wasn’t a sentimental man, he barely had anything from his youth. Isobel knew precious little about that time in his life because it was very painful for him to talk about. She knew he fled a colonized, war-riddled country after the Great War and had a hard time adjusting to the States. But the circumstances that caused him to leave, the hardships of living in and not being accepted in a new, strange country, those details he had never shared with anyone.

She loved and trusted him anyway. If he ever wanted to share those details in time, she would be there to listen.

In the back Isobel found some boxes she didn’t recognize. There was no name scribbled on the sides and she couldn’t even remember these being part of the many, many boxes the movers took upstairs for storage. Odd. She pulled one towards her and opened it, curiosity getting the better of her, as it often did.

“Izzy? Are you home?”

“I’m upstairs, darling!” Isobel called down as she took out several yellowed newspaper clippings. They were all connected to a 15-year-old cold case, a little girl who was murdered in Roswell, New Mexico. Isobel sorted through them, going from the first “Ortecho Family Drama Unfolds” clipping, to the discovery of the body two weeks later. Why was Noah keeping these?

“What are you doing in the attic?” Noah’s voice was coming closer, climbing the stairs towards her.

“Oh, just sorting through some of my stuff,” she said absentmindedly as she flipped through the newspapers. “You know, old memories and – ” She broke off mid-sentence as she came to the date of the arrest of the one and only viable suspect. A picture was next to the short report of the arrest and the young man, whose identity was not known at the time. She knew it though.

It was Noah.

He was about 20 in this picture, and since it was 1920, the timeline matched roughly with him fleeing his country. He looked younger, thinner and harder. But Isobel recognized him immediately.

“Old memories?” Noah’s voice was now almost at the attic door and Isobel jerked out of her stupor. She stuffed the newspapers back in the box and pushed them to the side, grabbing some art projects from a nearby pile, just in time before the attic door opened and Noah came in, smiling. She held up her projects, working hard to bring a smile on her face and not giving anything away.

They spend the rest of the afternoon looking at her projects and old pictures and Isobel, having learned from early childhood to lie through her teeth, pretended nothing was wrong.

The next day, after Noah had gone to work, she went back to the attic and took out the box again. Now with more time she spread the newspaper clippings out before her and examining them more closely. Now she saw Noah’s tiny handwriting in the margins. If before she could pretend this was just her husband’s weird hobby, after reading some of his notes, she couldn’t deny the truth any longer.

His note under the news of the discovery of Rosa’s body was especially damning. Weren’t supposed to find her this soon. Cover tracks immediately.

Isobel let out a single, shocked sob.

The note by the news that Jim Valenti had killed herself made her blood run cold. Good riddance.

Her husband had killed Rosa Ortecho and had gotten away with it.

She had married a murderer.

Present day, 22nd of October, 1935

“No one gets off this train without being accompanied by me or the staff from the other carriages, is that clear?” Alex stood in front of the train door, having arrived just in time to stop people from swarming onto the platform for one last breath of fresh air before the final leg of the journey. Every face he saw was mutinous, but Alex couldn’t risk anyone escaping. Kyle was locked up for now, but the mystery was by no means solved. Someone else still could’ve committed the crime, could still be planning to run.

“Can I at least get out?” His father appeared beside the other travellers, his nose still very noticeably broken, a front tooth missing. Alex felt a savage pleasure at seeing the tables turned.

Alex shrugged. “I could literally not give any less of a fuck what you do with your time.”

Despite the hard feelings towards him, the other passengers sniggered, which made Jesse Manes turn red. He shouldered passed Alex and disembarked the train, letting in a blast of cold air. But it was clear they’d cleared the Alps; the cold wasn’t as biting as it had been. Michael stepped up, looking sheepish. Alex knew why; he was feeling it, too. They were each other’s something, which made this entire situation all the more complicated. They didn’t know how to act around each other. “I need to call Jack, tell him we’ve arrived at Lausanne.”

“Yes, alright. I’ll have to accompany you,” Alex said, opening the door and allowing Michael to get out ahead of him.

“Well, if you must,” Michael said, with a mock tone of exasperation. Alex followed him to the phone booth on the platform, then sat down on a bench a few feet away, taking out his notebook and going over it all for what felt like the eight thousandth time. He knew most of it by heart now, but that didn’t mean it made the mystery any clearer.

He was still immersed when Michael sat down next to him. “Jack says the Compagnie is not pleased by our delay. I told him to tell them to ‘stuff it’. I’m not sure he will.”

Alex snorted, looking up from his notebook and straight into Michael’s eyes. They were twinkling lightly, as if a murderer had never ruined this trip beyond repair. “You always did have a way with words.”

“I try.”

Alex shook his head with a smile and looked back down to his notebook. “I don’t think I can figure it out, Michael,” he said after a minute silence. Michael looked up, his eyes filled with sympathy. “Literally anyone could’ve done this. Sure, there are several people with motive. Kyle, Max, Isobel – ”

“ – me,” added Michael, with a half-smile. At Alex’s shocked expression. “Come on, Alex, you know you can’t deny it. I have as much motive as Max has. I love Isobel. I don’t know if the allegations of abuse were true, but you know I would never have waited to find out if those rumours reached me.”

“Yes, but I know you – ”

“You saying I’m not capable of murder?”

“No, I’m saying you wouldn’t have the patience to wait around and plan a perfect murder. You’re impulsive and rash and emotional and if someone hurts someone you love, you don’t wait to get retribution. You find it immediately.”

Michael choked out a surprised laugh. “Well, you’re not wrong. I’m surprised you still know so much about me.”

Alex brushed his hand against Michael’s, only briefly, but enough for the familiar rush of warmth go through him. “I don’t think I ever could’ve forgotten about you.”

Michael grabbed Alex’s hand and pressed a swift kiss to the back of it. “You’re a foolish romantic, Alexander Manes.”

“I know. Always been my problem.”

The two of them looked at each other, before Michael tore his eyes away. “So what are you going to do when we get to Paris?”

“I don’t know. I have to give the police something. There was a murder on this train. I can’t show up empty-handed after three days spent with all the suspects.”

“Tell me your thoughts,” Michael said, sitting up straight and giving him his undivided attention.

Alex blinked, surprised. “Okay,” he said, then opened his book. “Noah Bracken, 35, murdered in a locked room. Stab wounds to the chest. No stab wound is identical. It’s like the person stabbing him tried to make it look like different people did it.” Michael straightened further, giving Alex a nod to continue. “Isobel is the most obvious suspect, since she was in the room. But there’s nothing else that points to her, and if it’s true she took Barbital, she was physically incapable of waking up. Max Evans lied about being her brother and was seen fighting with Noah just a few weeks before the murder, possibly about Isobel. You brought on board the murder weapon – which you stole from my house fifteen years ago, I might add – and turned out to be Isobel’s other brother. Kyle has the strongest motive, seeing as his father killed himself in the wake of the Ortecho case. But he supposedly has an alibi, provided by Maria, whose alibi was first her mother and then Kyle, which makes her a very shaky character witness. Mr Otto tried to run, his daughter’s alibi has him sleeping. However, she was apparently also talking to Max Evans. The murder was committed at 4:30, not 3, a fact Kyle knew and decided to conceal, along with his true identity…” He trailed off, sighing deeply. “I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to tell the police. I can’t give them anything.”

“Would that be so bad?” Michael said softly, and Alex looked at him startled. “Noah Bracken was a terrible person, a murderer. Would it be so bad to, I don’t know, let his murderer get away with it?”

Alex rested his head against the station walls behind him and let out a long sigh. “I don’t know if I can. I’ve always had a very clear moral code. And no matter what crimes a person committed, they should always get a fair trial. Murder is not an excuse for murder.” He looked at Michael with a sad smile. “I’m a murderer, too, you know.” Michael looked back at him, shocked, and Alex swallowed. He’d never told anyone about this particular dark place of his psyche, but he pressed on. “I murdered dozens of faceless men on the battlefield. I am a murderer. And I got away with it. Because it was in service of my country. That…injustice to my victims will never go away. But I can try and give other victims justice. That’s why I became a private investigator after I was injured. To make up for the murders I got away with.”

“Oh, Alex…” Michael began, but then jumped up as the train whistle blew. “Jesus, we have to leave! Get on the train, quickly!”

They ran inside and only just jumped on when the train lurched into motion. Out of breath, the two men leaned against the train wall, both chuckling. “You know, Alex,” Michael said, turning his head to look at him with a smile, “I think you’re closer than you think you are. You have all the puzzle pieces, I’m sure of it. Now you just gotta find how they fit together.”

He closed the distance between them and pressed a light kiss to Alex’s lips, before sauntering off in the direction of his cabin. Alex stayed behind, biting his lower lip pensively, his thoughts whirling.

Most of his thoughts were devoted to the question that was driving him insane; was Michael guilty or not? He tried his hardest to push it to the background, because he didn’t know the answer and it wasn’t helping. He still had almost a day before they would arrive in Paris and he needed to figure it out before then.

Even if Noah Bracken was an absolute monster, he deserved justice. Just like Rosa Ortecho had deserved justice.

Alex looked at himself in the reflection of a window. He scoffed when he realized the truth in his eyes; this hadn’t been about justice for quite a while now. It was a mixture of pride and protectiveness. Alex protected those he loved, and even ten years apart hadn’t stopped him loving Michael.

He wanted to solve this case to prove that he could. He wanted to solve this case to clear Michael’s name. Preferably, the solution would lead to both outcomes.

Worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, he went over to the Bracken’s cabin, which had been locked after Isobel had been moved into Miss Otto’s cabin for the remainder of the journey. He took out Michael’s keys and opened it. The body had been moved to the freezer in the kitchens for preservation, but the rest of the cabin remained untouched. Alex turned to look at the inside of the door, inspecting it closely, hoping to find any clue. A handprint. A hair. Anything that would help Alex in his search for the murderer. Not even the lock was picked, there were no scratches or signs of damage on it whatsoever.

It meant the killer had either had a key or had left through the window.

That information helped exactly no one, because those had always been the only two options of this murder, shy of Isobel having murdered her husband herself, which Alex still didn’t think the most likely of options. He straightened up and looked around the cabin. He crouched down, realized his leg wouldn’t allow it and sat down completely instead, changing his perspective. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine a scenario.

It was evening, Mr and Mrs Bracken had just returned to their cabin, exhausted after a long day of travelling. “Darling, can you give me the Barbital, please?” Isobel asked. Noah handed the bottle to her without speaking. He changed into his pyjamas and got into bed, while Isobel rummaged some more. “I ordered some tea,” Isobel said, arranging her pillows.

“That is excellent, my sweet,” Noah said, already half asleep.

There was a heavy knocking on the door and the door opened to reveal Michael, who was holding a tea tray. “Here you go, Mrs Bracken,” Michael said, his eyes flickering to Mr Bracken, who threw him a dirty look for having woken him up. “A good night to you both,” Michael continued, seemingly unbothered. With a nod and a smile at Isobel, he left.

Isobel poured out the tea and handed a cup to her husband. They drank in silence, before Isobel dropped a kiss to Noah’s cheek and went to bed herself. Noah dropped off to sleep almost immediately, but Isobel stared at the ceiling for a good long while.

Alex opened his eyes, wondering how close to the truth this scenario was. Was this when Noah Bracken had been sedated? Had Isobel put the Barbital in his tea? Or had Michael done that? He looked around the cabin again, trying to reset the scenario. He settled his back against the door and tried to get comfortable for a few rundowns of possible scenarios.

He was going to be here a while.

#malex #malex ff #rnm ff #malex fanfic #roswell new mexico #Alex Manes #Michael Guerin #a disaster bi and a chaotic gay #what could go wrong #otp:I Don't Look Away #my fanfics #my rnm ff #my malex ff #motoe au

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jasontoddiefor · 6 years ago

Note

May I request if the Justice League will know if Batman and Bruce are dating each other?

Yes, you may! :D

Set after Dick has figured out “””the truth”””, but slightly before he joins Bruce on the streets as Robin! This is canon to my fanfic!

The Batkids all think Bruce is dating Batman instead of him being Batman AU.

When Batman has announced that he’d arrive with a delay, Clark had expected the worst. The news hadn’t said anything about a Joker breakout or similar, nor did Clark’s hearing pick up anything unusual in Gotham, but Batman wasn’t late without a good reason. Especially not any later than the Flash. Batman was a notorious workaholic and hated getting off schedule, so Clark had taken another look at their HQ’s med-bay, just in case.

After all, Bruce was the kind of person who would show off bleeding half to death and keep his mouth shut about it and endure.

Thankfully, when Batman did arrive, he seemed to be healthy and awake, and a quick look told Clark he wasn’t hiding more injuries than usual.

Nevertheless, Batman had come with a small and colorful surprise attached to his side.

“Woah, Spooky, what’s with the small clown?” Green Lantern asked, obviously not picking up on Batman’s irritation.

“My name is Robin,” Dick Grayson hissed, furious like a cat. He was wearing a green domino mask and a yellow cape, but otherwise, he was in his Batman PJs, which Clark recognized because he had bought them. Carefully, Clark pinched himself, checking if he was dreaming. There was no way Bruce had actually taken Dick to the Watchtower looking like this, was there?

Green Lantern raised his hands in defeat. “Sorry there, little man. Didn’t mean to offend you. What are you doing here?”

“I’m-”

“Accompanying me to our meeting,” Batman interrupted his young charge. “Which I’d like to finish as soon as possible.”

“You were the one who got here late,” Flash mumbled. He was already on his seventh package of chips, and they had been waiting for barely fifteen minutes.

“You disregarded my veto for any meetings this week. I am busy, and as I said before, Gotham is my priority.”

“It’s ‘cause B and Alfie are gone,” Robin said with a yawn. “B’s got a Wayne Enterprise meeting in England and Alfie’s visiting family there so it’s just Bats and me at home and he didn’t want me to stay behind even though I have school tomorrow and should be sleepin’. Bat, when’s Bruce gonna be home again?”

“Robin.”

“What?” Besides Batman, Robin looked more asleep than awake already. Tired confusion was written all over his expression.

“Wayne Enterprise…?” Green Arrow repeated slowly, then he froze.

Batman tensed, though Clark doubted that anybody but him and Flash could spot it. Out of all of them, only Diana, Clark, and Bruce knew each others’ civilian identities. Bruce was paranoid enough to not want anybody else to know, and Clark had only discovered his identity in the middle of the battlefield on accident. Bruce hadn’t spoken to him for weeks afterward. It was a little hypocritical since Bruce knew everyone else’s identity, but he argued that his secrecy was a safety measurement. He was the only member of the Justice League with Kryptonite in his possession and every hint towards his identity, would put Clark and so the whole world at risk.

Privately Clark thought that Bruce wasn’t giving himself enough credit, but he could understand where Bruce was coming from.

Clark didn’t want to burden anyone with Superman’s identity either. If villains knew that other members of the justice league could tell them who Superman was... the consequences would be disastrous.

But all of that didn’t matter right now because Dick Grayson, Robin and ward of Bruce Wayne who was Batman, had just asked Batman when Bruce would be home.

“Bruce Wayne?” Green Arrow’s voice had reached a pitch it most definitely wasn’t meant for. “Is that- You’re Dick Grayson.”

And now Robin had caught up on his slip. He paled and his small hand held onto Batman’s cape. Clark wasn’t sure whether this was part of some secret code Batman and Robin had created, but Batman immediately picked Robin up. His cape covered Robin almost completely, hiding him away from everyone’s eyes.

“I’m not,” Robin protested weakly, but the secret was already out.

Clark and Diana shared a look. They had to stop this conversation right now.

“You’re babysitting Bruce Wayne’s ward,” Green Arrow continued, still caught in shock.

Beside him, Green Lantern was already laughing. Clark carefully stepped to Bruce’s side. He wouldn’t kill Green Lantern, Batman had a code, but Clark wasn’t sure whether a fist to the face also fell under the ‘no harm to innocents or other heroes’ paragraph in this particular situation.

“How else is he supposed to afford all these fancy gadgets-” Green Lantern managed to choke out between laughs, only to come to a sudden stop.

“Wait. Is that how you get your funds? Babysitting for Wayne.”

Clark had to do something. Batman had jumped in front of bullets for him, even though Superman was indestructible.

“Article 43 Addendum,” Clark recited, effectively shutting everyone up.

Bruce would hate him for this, but not as much as he’d hate revealing his identity to the League and to Dick like this. Bruce planned things through, and Clark knew he had a plan on how he wanted to reveal the truth to Dick in the future.

Green Lantern and Green Arrow spluttered. “But-”

“This is our code, we all agreed on it,” Superman said, standing straight and being the perfect picture of authority.

Clark was rather sure he’d just earned himself a training session with Bruce and Kryptonite. The things he did for his friends.

“And today we are not here to talk about Batman, but the planned defenses of the Watchtower. Considering tonight’s events, and the fact that we did go against Batman’s veto, I propose that we adjourn this meeting.”

“Aye.”

All heads turned to Wonder Woman. “There is still time to talk about the Watchtower in the future, and we should take Batman’s new responsibilities into consideration.”

After that, nobody dared to disagree. Diana was simply awesome like that. With her standing right next to Batman, everybody hurried to leave the meeting hall as well.

“Thank you,” Bruce told Diana, once everyone was gone. Then he turned to Clark. Robin was still in Bruce’s arms, though by now his breathing had evened out a lot - he had fallen asleep.

“Alfred will be back on Sunday. I expect you in the Cave at eleven in the morning.”

Bruce turned around on his heel and walked away, his cape flaring dramatically behind him

Clark was so screwed.

“Any chance you want to come to our training session?” He asked Diana, but she just laughed at his misery.

“And watch you lose?”

And that was that.

Article 43

All inquiries to civilian identities that have not been initiated by the JLA member in question are prohibited unless there is a severe risk.

Addendum, proposed by 02-Batman

Inquiries about any member’s spouses or children are not exempt from Article 43.

---

Three things that are very important to me:1) Everybody thinks Batman is at least 10 years older than he actually is. Bruce just has that old man energy when he’s actually just as old or younger than other JLA members in this verse

2) Bruce absolutely loves watching Clark squirm every time the JLA members reference Bruce in terms of Batman’s significant other because this is all Clark’S fault

3) Bruce absolutely wiped the floor with Clark.

#dc comics #dc #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #justice league #clark kent #superman #fanfic #ask #stylefoxx

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xprincessofthefallenangels · 4 years ago

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thesportssoundoff · 5 years ago

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“Conor McGregor is back! Excitement may vary. Excitement in this card may vary! Excitement is really yours to have and hold, folks” The UFC 246 Fight Preview

Joey

January 13th, 2020

The UFC kicks off its 2019 schedule after a few long weeks off with a card that will, with very little sarcasm in play, play a hefty part in defining the way 2020 rolls out deep into the year. UFC 246 from Las Vegas, Nevada is a weird card on paper but it's also very significant and significance can sometimes create card quality/card quantity. Conor McGregor vs Donald Cerrone is a significant fight, one that figures to ask and answer a lot of questions for both men. For better or worse, the future of two divisions could be mapped out in one night depending on the results of one which fight which again parlays to its perceived significance. The PPV main card is "fine" although it clearly lacks a significant co-main event and the televised prelims are actually respectably spiffy as they're essentially four well put together "prospect of note vs proven veteran" fights with some good early ESPN+ prelim action too. Again I don't know if this card is good or bad---just that it's a significant card of fights and by the time Friday comes along, that long term delay in high level MMA is going to be eating at us SO we'll be all in on this one.

2020 Stat-O-Matic:

Debuting Fighters (): Ode Osbourne, Aleksa Camur Main Event Exemption:

Short Notice Fighters (): Main Event Exemption:

Second Fight (): Askar Askarov Main Event Exemption: Vs Debutantes:

Cage Corrosion (Fighters who have not fought within a year of the date of the fight) (): Conor McGregor, Brian Kelleher Main Event Exemption: Conor McGregor

Undefeated Fighters (): Aleksa Camur, Maycee Barber Main Event Exemption:

Fighters with at least four fights in the UFC with 0 wins over competition still in the organization (): Alexey Oleinik, Justin Ledet Main Event Exemption:

Weight Class Jumpers (Fighters competing outside of the weight class of their last fight even if they’re returning BACK to their “normal weight class”) (): Donald Cerrone, Conor McGregor Main Event Exemption: Conor McGregor, Donald Cerrone

Twelve Precarious Ponderings

1- So what necessarily is the end game here for Conor McGregor? As has been the case since he broke out onto the scene and KO'd Jose Aldo, much of Conor's "plans" feel less like plans and more like thoughts he forces into existence. The good stuff like being a double champ and finagling a big money Floyd fight and the bad stuff like the Khabib lead up or believing he could just beat Nate Diaz up 15 lbs because it seemed like fun all feel like the decisions of a guy who sort of just decides he's going to do something and then does it regardless of the long term impact. Conor had the chance to fight Justin Gaethje and instead pushed for Frankie Edgar fight, ultimately leading us to the here and now where he'll draw Donald Cerrone up a weight class after a year plus layoff. In the time between Conor's LAST fight and this one, he's been arrested, accused of sexual assault, accused of fathering a child out of his marriage and feel free to fill me in on anything I may have missed. What sort of made Conor McGregor a superstar was that he flirted with the concept of being a character completely in control of everything he did and 2019 at the very exposed him as somebody lacking any semblance of control within his life. Either way, it's hard to say what the future holds for McGregor with a win. We know a loss means it's over as four losses in his last five pro fights (I'm counting Floyd here for completionist sake) would probably kill whatever credibility he had and whatever legitimacy he garnered over the course of three years running through the UFC ranks. A win? It's hard to say with a guy who when he's right has the ability to dictate what he opts to do next. A win? Conor McGregor would fight Jorge Masvidal in a big money fight, a third Diaz fight, a GSP fight where both fighters can cash out or go and chase down Khabib. If one truly wishes to get stupid, I suppose fights with Pacquaio, Floyd or Paulie Malignaggi exist out there as well. The first step isn't so much winning this fight but winning this fight and getting back to what made this whole act work to begin with.

2- This is historically the sort of fight Cerrone doesn't show up for and gets forced out of his element but there's some things here I think that do tilt the scales slightly in his favor. For starters, I DO believe in ring rust and Conor hasn't fought in over a year and has fought just twice since the end of 2016. You can argue that wear and tear means Cerrone is shop worn but I feel as though he fights better the MORE he fights and the more active he is. For a fighter like Conor who lives or dies based upon how sharp his timing is, I think it's fair to wonder if the long layoff is going to shake him. We saw him struggle with his timing vs Khabib and while Khabib is on a whole different galaxy than Cerrone, I'd argue it's worse to be slightly off vs a dude like Cerrone who does have the starch in his strikes to do more than flash KD you. Also Cerrone is probably the first guy since Jose Aldo that Conor's had to be mindful of walking into smoke with the legs. Also Cerrone's been campaigning at 170 lbs on and off since 2016 and so you have to assume if this is about being comfortable at the weight class, he's got the nod over Conor.

3- Under normal circumstances, I'd say "I think Conor's defensive wrestling is somewhat understated and the idea that anybody can take him down and sub him is a fallacy" but I also have ZERO idea if he's actually done any serious grappling training or if he's just hoping Cerrone's going to play nice and strike with him for a bit.

4- Which fight is more undesirable for Amanda Nunes; a Holly Holm rematch where she can't realistically top what she did in the first fight or a Rocky Pennington rematch where she'll be tasked with trying to sell/expand upon one of her most boring fights ever?

5- I wonder who is more broken in theory between Holm and Pennington. Rocky looked to be on the verge of going from solid WMMA fighter to a damn good top 5-ish woman at 135 lbs after dominating Meisha Tate but she broke her leg, took a lot of time off, followed that up with a dud vs Amanda Nunes and then got stalled out by Germaine de Randamie. She rebounded with a win over Irene Aldana which almost felt more about Aldana being a putz and less about any sort of sign of a rebound for Rocky. It's worth remembering that the fight vs Holm was the one that got sort of signified that Rocky was better than people realized but it required her to pressure for fifteen minutes and that's sort of gone away for her recently. As for Holm? She's fought Rousey, Cyborg, Tate, Shevchenko and Nunes. She's pushing 40. She had an extensive boxing history that suggests she's taken plenty of damage. She just got KO'd for the first time in her UFC run the last time out and at this point it's fair to ask if Holm's durability is going to be shot. This fight is why Aspen Ladd figuring shit out is really important for this division.

6- Maurice Green and Alexey Olenik being on this main card is curious until you realize that this main card has two WMMA fights and a fight at lightweight on it. Sometimes beef gets called in to "bulk" up the main card.

7- Anthony Pettis sure picked a fine week to announce a UFC lawsuit, am I right?

8- Let's talk about how great these prelims are for a second. Sodiq Yusuff vs Andre Fili is a battle of exciting prospect and proven veteran with a multitude of ways to win. Nasrat Haqparast vs Drew Dober is a battle of exciting prospect vs proven veteran with a multitude of ways to win. Maycee Barber vs Roxanne Modafferi almost feels like the potential crowning of Maycee as a 125 lb contender by taking on a former title contender who STYLISTICALLY will at least give us a reason to double check her ability to do things such as defend takedowns and deal with pressure. Lastly I REALLY do love this fight between Chas Skelly and Grant Dawson as Dawson has slowly gone from somewhat awkward wrestling savant to a more well rounded pressure fighter while Chas Skelly is one of those ultimate gatekeeper types for young fighters. These are all great fights worthy of going out of your way to see on ESPN.

9- We're four years now into the Alexa Grasso project and I still don't know if she has the fight smarts to ever take the next step in her career. A good test vs a declining Claudia Gadelha who still has something to offer.

10- How much ya wanna bet Maurice Green allows Olenik to pull him down on top of him?

11- Justin Ledet's run at 205 lbs has been weird as his lack of athleticism for the weight class plus what feels like an odd lack of strength (How he was burly enough to fight at HW but gets chucked around at 205 lbs is a mystery to me) has made him go 0-2 in the division. After a lengthy lay off, he's back at 205 lbs against Aleksa Camur. Camus is a training partner of Stipe Miocic and he got in here off the Contenders Series where he had a crazy fight that exposed him to be a) wacky as all hell and b) a bit too raw for my liking in the UFC. This feels pretty winnable for Spirit of Truth lookalike Ledet.

12- Ode Osbourne vs Brian Kelleher is an early FOTY candidate to me.

#MMA #UFC #McGregor #Cerrone #Pettis #CDF #Holm #Pennington #Prospects

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voicesfromthelight · 5 years ago

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A Follow-up on The Attunement: A Warning on El Paso, And What It Taught Me About The Importance of Building Symbolic Vocabularies

Today’s post will be a follow-up on events that have transpired in the last 48 hours, since I received my energetic attunement from my guides. The last two days have been interesting, exhilarating, and intense. I’ve felt a very clear shift in my ability to receive information from Spirit, and the events I’ve experienced have helped me figure out some useful things about how this energy works. They have also emphasized to me the importance of working with your guides to both fine-tune and expand communicative vocabularies.

As a quick recap, in case readers don’t feel inclined to revisit the previous post: Two days ago, I woke up to the awareness that I had been a sent a clairvoyant image, for which I was also given claircognizant instructions on how to find it. The instructions quickly led me to the correct photograph of unrest in Hong Kong. When I went to channel later in the day, my guides confirmed that the image had been transmitted to me with the intention of bolstering my latent clairvoyant ability. After obtaining my consent, my guides then gifted me with a powerful energy attunement that they said would help me develop my clair-senses, quicken the manifestation of my goals, bring through new teachings, and also aid me in energy healing through allowing me to work together with a new healer spirit guide. This energy could be passed on to other people simply through intention and mutual agreement. The experience of the attunement was electrifying, and I was able to pass the energy on to three people by the end of the day, reactivating it at will. All of them reacted palpably and positively. The most important piece of advice I received was to be very intentional about where I directed the energy, and to take even more care than before to avoid manifesting my fears through worry.

Having sent this energy attunement to three people, now, here is what I have figured out, so far:

1. This energy will adapt itself to the needs of the individual receiving it. Salvador’s instruction to be intentional in how it is directed is aimed not only at me, but at the recipients. They will gain the most benefit from the energy of the attunement when they clearly define what they wish to use it for, before receiving it.

2. It seems that when the energy is passed on, the attunement may work in a way similar to a strong, one-off energy healing, geared towards the recipient’s needs. I do not yet know if the attunement can be passed on by people who receive it from me. I suspect that in many cases, it can, depending on the person, their proclivities, level of psychic development, and intentions.

3. The energy is passed on simply by saying an opening prayer, re-activating the energy through intention, receiving consent for the attunement, and then visualizing the energy pouring into the recipient. I find myself using sound in the the form of whistling to help transmit it. The process takes about two minutes, but the energy can reach the recipient with a slight delay.

4. For me, the attunement has definitely strengthened my clairvoyance, and for some reason, at the moment, this is currently manifesting as being tapped into events that make international news headlines. I seem to be open to new methods of communication, with new guides.

Aside from these considerations about the nature of the energy and how it works, the events that have happened since the attunement have given me much to process. One sequence of events in particular, while upsetting and linked to a great tragedy, has already taught me a valuable lesson about the importance of giving our guides a rich bank of knowledge, or vocabulary of symbols, to work with when transmitting information.

This post will meander somewhat, but I think it’s important that I document and share everything that has transpired so far.

In the hours that followed the attunement, I enjoyed a great sense of well-being. I felt peaceful, grounded as well as energetically “whole,” as if any energetic cords of tension or lack linking me to other people had dissolved, and all my personal energy had been restored. Then, in the evening, something unexpected happened.

I had come back to my home in Brooklyn after a long day of running errands in Manhattan, and was planning on visiting a friend. Before leaving the house, I plopped down on the sofa in my living-room - which is where I usually do my channeling work - and dozed off for what must have only been fifteen minutes.

Within that short period of time, I quickly fell into a dream. I found myself looking at a room with dusty, red curtains covering the wall, which felt a little similar to some of the Argentine tango salons I frequent. As in those salons, people were gathered near the walls, but somehow, the situation felt more like a family wake than a tango milonga. Some of the 20 or so people, of all different ages, genders and sizes, I knew were of Mexican descent. They didn’t seem to see me back. I was merely an onlooker. Only one man standing in the crowd - a dapper Mexican gentleman with distinctive, almond-shaped eyes and a moustache, wearing a suit and tie - turned his gaze to me momentarily, and nodded slightly, a strange, solemn look on his face.

And then, I knew, they were dead souls.

I didn’t know why I had been brought into the presence of this particular group, as I didn’t seem to have any personal connection to them, but they seemed to belong together in some way. Perhaps they were merely there because, for whatever reason, I happened to be seeing into their particular frequency band of the spirit world? Then, as my inner eyes scanned the crowd, they finally alighted on a sweet, familiar face. It was my friend from film school, Louie.*

Wait a minute. What was Louie doing in the middle of a group of dead souls?

What did I know about Louie, lately? He was young, recently married, and had a lot of life to look forward to. He was also of Mexican descent. Yes, he had had a health scare about a year ago, but had recuperated well. He lived far away, in Texas, and I hadn’t seen him in ten years. To suddenly see him standing there, surrounded by dead people, I thought, could only mean one thing. He had either suddenly passed, was about to, or was in mortal danger. As my concern mounted, my awareness inched towards a panicked lucidity. Something was terribly wrong. As my consciousness came hurtling out of the vision, I tried several times to physically call out Louie’s name, but no sound came out.

With my eyes still closed, but awake, now, through my eyelids, I could see and feel something that felt like a dense, red ball of energy, flashing with heat near my face, like a warning sign. It was as if it was broadcasting some kind of code containing all the emotional and intellectual information that was being transmitted to me in the dream. Every time it flashed, I felt the emotional response of terror flaring up. However, I knew the energy itself was not malicious. It was merely a semi-sentient package of information from Spirit - perhaps a thought form - very vigorously doing its job. It flashed a few times, and then, it was gone.

I opened my eyes, sat up, and tried to process what I had just experienced. It was a hot night. My fan was off. I sometimes have nightmares when I’m too hot. The inability to call out, and the feeling of the flashing ball of energy, surely were symptoms of sleep paralysis? On the other hand, after the morning’s very powerful developments, could my intuition be so off that I would dupe myself into thinking I had received a mediumistic communication of this caliber? That didn’t sit right, either.

I opened up my phone and looked up Louie’s Facebook page, half dreading to see a sudden outpouring of condolences on his wall. There were none.

Louie was safe and sound, in El Paso.

Over a late dinner, I hashed over everything that had happened with my friends, still not quite knowing what to think. Why had I seen Louie like that, when he was OK? Why couldn’t I shake the feeling that this was not just a vivid nightmare with some special effects added in for good measure, but a communication from Spirit?

The following morning, as I was going over the morning’s news headlines, I was reminded of the image I had been sent clairvoyantly as a prelude to my attunement. Despite its actually having been set in Hong Kong, when I had received it, I had mistakenly thought the scene was taking place in an Asian area of Russia. Now, instead of the Hong Kong protests, it was protests in Russia, in which hundreds of people had been arrested, that were making headlines. I wondered if the claircognizant information had been deliberately split to be relevant to both events: Russia and Asia? (This is how my guides’ verbally coded shorthand sometimes condenses information.) The question of how to process geographical information in Spirit communication was about to become more pressing.

I took the train into Manhattan with the intention of going to write in my customary café. It is worth mentioning that on the way there, another strange synchronicity happened, which I’m sure was orchestrated by my guides. I took a slightly different route than usual, and was serendipitously all but pulled off the street into an event where 25 shamanistic healers were conducting a group sound healing ceremony. I hadn’t been to a gathering like this for years, and the timing so soon after my attunement seemed perfect. (I had, in fact, been planning on attending events organized by the group behind it for over a year, but simply hadn’t gotten my act together.)

As I exited the event, I checked my phone. And that’s when I saw the headline: A mass shooting was taking place in El Paso, Texas. Where Louie lived. In fact, Louie was the only person I knew who lived there, and the first thing I would think of anytime anyone mentioned the city. Two possible suspects were still on the loose. The situation was still unfolding.

I quickly checked to see if Louie had posted anything online to let everyone know he was OK. Yes. He had posted a warning for people to stay away from the area of the shooting. Thank God, he was probably fine, and it was the proximity of the shooting that had triggered the warning I had received. I quickly messaged him, stumbling a bit over my wording, telling him to please stay safe. Then, I hoped for the best.

By the end of massacre, 20 people were dead, and at least 20 more, injured. I was haunted by the feeling of terror I had felt the night before, but Louie and his loved ones were safe. And that’s when I understood what had happened in the dream, and why.

The dream I had on my sofa was an authentic mediumistic communication. However, the reason I had seen Louie in the middle of the group of souls who were about to pass so tragically was not that he was to be among them, but because my strongest association with the city of El Paso, was Louie. Simply put, because of how my mind was wired to decode information, “Louie” was shorthand for “El Paso.”

This is where the lesson in this experience can be found.

It’s important to remember that Spirit will use the existing knowledge within the mind of the medium to give concrete form to intangible energy - which is why different mediums receive information in different ways. This is also why competent instructors of mediumship will encourage students to build up their knowledge of different subjects - and a bank of symbols for different concepts. If you memorize an entire book of baby names, Spirit won’t have to work as hard to get you to hear names in a mediumistic context. If you familiarize yourself with symbols associated with different faiths, you’ll know what a turban with a miniature dagger in it symbolizes, and what it does not. If you read up on the history of fashion, you might have an easier time pin-pointing the era and culture a spirit is hailing from.

…And if you familiarize yourself really thoroughly with geography and landmarks, well, Spirit won’t need to use your still-living buddy as a symbol for a city where a massacre is about to happen, scaring the crap out of you.

…And you will no longer confuse Moscow and Hong Kong.

Geeze!

This is an excellent takeaway.

I’ve heard stories of developing mediums who get so upset about receiving communications on tragedies, that they just say “Nope!” and shut down, sometimes for years. This experience was emotionally challenging, but didn’t make me want to reject the communication. So, last night, I sat down, and said to my guides: “Thank you for sending me this information. I do want to continue to receive truthful communication even when it’s unpleasant. But let’s make a deal. I’ll read up on landmarks, geography, and a whole bunch of other stuff, and you will use that new symbolic vocabulary to fine-tune your transmissions, so this kind of confusion doesn’t happen again, OK? Please make sure I don’t get scared that my friend is in mortal danger, unless it’s true and there is something I can do to help, or you at least know that hearing about it will soften the emotional blow.”

Now, it’s up to me to hold up my end of the deal. I am confident that they will hold up theirs.

What areas of knowledge do you think might help you with your Spirit communications? Do you have areas of expertise on which you find you will more readily receive specific information? What symbol systems work best with your communications? Think about how you can expand and develop them!

_________________________________________________

*Name changed to protect privacy.

#attunements #energy healing #spirit guides #precognition #intution #mediumship #symbolism #channeled messages #spirit #spiritual #el paso shooting #psychic #psychic medium #clairvoyance #psychic development #sleep paralysis #dreams #prophetic dreams #lucid dreams

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jarienn972 · 6 years ago

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Only a Little Superstitious - Chapter 18

I realized yesterday as I was getting ready to post the latest chapter of my other ongoing story that I hadn’t posted this recent chapter update on Tumblr yet. It’s been up on AO3 and FF.net for a little while so I apologize for the delay getting it posted here. This new chapter picks up right about the same time as the cliffhanger ending of Chapter 17 and if you haven't figured out yet why Kronk continues to pursue Emma and Killian, I've dropped a few not-so-subtle hints here.

Previous chapters on Tumblr: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Carlos managed to make the hike back to his government-issue SUV in approximately fifteen minutes less than it had taken to ascend to the cavern. Armed with photographic evidence of the matching symbols, he had practically skipped down the mountainside, still lost in disbelief that this hidden hiking trail just might hold a gateway to another world. If they were right about everything, by tomorrow, he would be able to physically witness magic. Grandmother had always insisted that it existed and now, they would be able to see its return. He had heard these legends since he was a boy and never dreamed that some might just be true.

He tossed his backpack onto the rear seat before sliding behind the steering wheel and stretching across the center console to flip open the glove compartment, retrieving the charger cord for his phone. Not having a signal out here in the middle of nowhere was quite draining on the battery. He'd barely glanced at the phone all morning except to check the time or to make use of the camera since he knew he wouldn't have service until he reached Highway 60. As soon as his phone was in range of a tower though, his phone chimed with notifications and Carlos would soon learn of the drama unfolding down in the Valley.

Unlike his own beat up Suburban, the Park Service SUVs were fully equipped with built-in Bluetooth so he could listen to his messages without needing to fumble with the speakerphone button. He had only a single message but it had Carlos pulling off to the side of the highway the moment he heard it. There was no mistaking both the urgency and hint of fear in Emma's voice as he listened to her words, realizing that she'd left the voicemail for him just ten minutes earlier. Had she contacted Tim already and if so, what action might they take?

He'd barely screeched to a stop before slamming the gearshift into Park and grabbing his phone, dialing Emma's number impatiently while hoping she would pick up quickly.

"Carlos, I'm so glad you called," Emma answered on the third ring. "Did you get the message I left and are you back in the city yet?"

"Yes, I got the message but no, I'm not quite there yet. I'm still a few miles east of Apache Junction – maybe forty minutes away if I disobey a few speed limits… Did you get ahold of Tim?"

"I had him paged by one of the nurses here in the Emergency department. He's on his way." She didn't sound entirely convinced though.

"I'll give him a call myself in case they didn't relay the urgency, but I'm sure he's on his way. I'll make sure he knows what it's about and call you back when I'm closer to Mesa. I don't know how we'd do it, but I think we may need to get the two of you out of there…" Even as he suggested it, Carlos reflected on how risky that idea might be but he didn't see any other option.

"I'm honestly inclined to agree, but I don't think that would be easy…," Emma replied as a tall, dark-haired man in a cadet blue uniform pushed open one of the double doors across from her. "Carlos, hang on a minute… This might be your friend, Tim, now…"

"Sheriff Jones?" the uniformed man asked as he approached, extending his hand toward her in greeting. Emma nodded as she shook his hand, reading the name on his badge which confirmed who he was even before the security chief introduced himself. "I'm Tim Stillwater, head of security here at Mesa General. Glad to finally meet you in person, despite the circumstances…"

"Tell Tim hello for me," Carlos said with a chuckle from his end of the phone call. "I'll leave you in his capable hands and call you back when I reach Mesa."

"Excuse me one moment, Mr. Stillwater," Emma apologized as she wrapped up the call. "Thanks, Carlos." She disconnected the call and returned her attention to the man standing before her. "Carlos days hello and he's on his way."

"No need to apologize," Tim replied. "If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me as I got dragged into an incident out in the ambulance bay trying to help restrain some high as a kite guy paramedics brought in who attacked two orderlies. So sorry for that delay, but how can I be of assistance?"

Emma contemplated her words carefully. She knew that Carlos had provided Tim with portions of their situation but she hadn't been privy to those conversations so she didn't know exactly how much had been discussed. "You're familiar with how my husband got here?"

"I'm sure I don't know all of the details but I know that Carlos rescued you from up in the mountains after your husband was stabbed by someone. He also told me that the attacker was still at large which was why he chose to bring you here for my oversight…"

"He's here," Emma interrupted, not wanting to waste too much more time explaining right at this moment. "I just saw Killian's assailant, Nehemiah Kronk, in the cafeteria a few minutes ago. He was carrying around a box of flower bouquets, probably pretending to be a florist…"

"Okay, in that case, why don't you come with me?" Tim suggested, reaching for the radio clipped to his belt. "Let's go look at the security camera footage so you can point out the man, then I'll have my people get this place on lockdown…"

"No, you don't want a lockdown," Emma stopped him. "That might push this guy to do something rash. I don't want to put anyone else at risk."

"Okay, Sheriff," Tim began, taking her warning under advisement, "how do you think we should proceed?"

"Well, the first thing I need to do is get to my husband. He doesn't even know any of this yet but I don't want to go back through the cafeteria to the main elevators in case Kronk is still there. Is there some other way to get upstairs?"

"There's another elevator back this way that isn't open to the public. Your husband is still in the ICU right?"

"Yes. He was sleeping when I came downstairs to get coffee so he doesn't know Kronk is too close…" Emma stopped when she realized she was rambling, worried that Tim might think she was unstable.

"Do you think this Mr. Kronk knows your husband's room number?"

"We've kept that information pretty quiet so I doubt it. My parents don't even know the room number, but Kronk knows how seriously wounded Killian is. I don't know if he'd think about ICU though."

"This is a very large hospital campus so there are a lot of rooms for him to search unless he knows where to begin. Obviously, he would eliminate certain floors like pediatrics, but it will still take a while. Our staff is trained to protect our patients' privacy, but if he starts talking to other patients or their families and friends, we can't control what information they might give out."

"We're going to have to get Killian out of here," Emma stated as Tim pushed open one of the double doors into the Emergency area. "And we've got to do it fast, before Kronk finds us."

"This guy's pretty tenacious to have hunted you down. What exactly does he want from you?"

"I honestly don't know," Emma replied and she didn't even have to skirt around that answer. She really didn't know for certain why Kronk was trying so hard to find them. "It feels like he needs something from us and maybe it's about something that happened after the attack… I just don't really know…"

"Hard to gauge the intent of some people," Tim said, not questioning her vague response. "Now, I'll be happy to help you both out with getting your husband moved to another facility, but are you sure about this? It might not be safe to move him."

"No, it might not be, but I have to weigh which would be the bigger risk – potentially causing my husband further injury by moving him or the possibility of putting others in danger if Kronk doesn't find what he wants?" Emma's dilemma was certainly a valid one and she sensed that Tim didn't envy the choices she was facing. She knew she would also be making this same argument to medical staff very soon, but she didn't doubt her decision and she knew that neither would Killian. No innocent people would be put at risk for their sake.

By the time Carlos called back, Emma had already engaged in two separate arguments with medical personnel who didn't agree that Killian should be discharged and moved to another facility even if his condition had improved overnight. Tim Stillwater had intervened as best he could, explaining that it was a necessary relocation due to personal security concerns for the law enforcement officers. Tim was in agreement that remaining here at Mesa General wouldn't be safe for anyone so Emma had made a phone call to Dr. Whale, requesting a favor from him to set up a fabricated transfer of Killian to a private, unnamed location. After a few minutes of protesting, Whale agreed and had his administrative assistant draw up formal-looking instructions which were sent to Killian's attending physician in Arizona. The Mesa medical staff had finally relented, still voicing their disapproval while a nurse began disconnecting the multitude of monitors and machines he'd been connected to.

With Carlos only a few minutes away, Emma was hurrying to help Killian get dressed while Tim and his staff kept a watchful eye on the hallways and security camera monitors for any sign of the man Emma had identified for them in footage filmed earlier. Getting Killian clothed however was proving to be a more daunting challenge than planned due to his mobility limitations, and he was growing increasingly frustrated by his inability to perform even the simple task of pulling on his own trousers. She'd grabbed the most basic pair she could find amongst the clothing Carlos had acquired for them a few days ago – elastic waist, soft fleece pants which weren't too dissimilar to the ones Emma often wore to bed.

Killian despised this helpless feeling as he lay there allowing his wife to dress him. His chest still itched from the irritating adhesive that had once secured various medical sensors to his skin and he was anxious to be rid of the last remaining tether – the IV catheter taped to his forearm which was delivering a last dose of medication. He might as well get the last of the pain medicine before they departed this building. Emma had a long-sleeved, button-up shirt draped across his waist and was digging his boots out of the backpack when the nurse returned to yank out the IV, placing a bandage over the tiny crimson bubble left behind.

Emma gave her husband a quick sideways glance as she gathered up their belongings, shoving them nonchalantly into the backpack while awaiting their friend's call. As much as she was loathe to admit it, she still found the sight of Killian's bandaged chest unsettling, but she did her best to keep up a brave face. She knew he was doing the same in attempt to bolster her spirits, but she recognized the cracks in the façade, knowing all of this exertion was bound to take a toll on him.

With his arm free from the tubing, Killian reached for the shirt, determined to do at least one thing for himself. Despite a mild tremor, he managed to hold up the charcoal grey shirt long enough to shove his maimed arm into a sleeve, tugging the fabric as far up onto his shoulder as he could manage, already thankful to no longer have his deformity on display. He then raised his right arm above his head, reaching behind his neck in attempt to grasp the collar of the shirt, but it was just beyond his fingertips. With his teeth already gnashed from the discomfort this position was inflicting on his body, he struggled with the reality that he was going to need to ask for help. Emma spared him that indignity though as she moved swiftly to his side, taking hold of the fabric and moving it into a position where Killian could grab it and maneuver the other sleeve so he could slip his right arm inside. The pain he'd just inflicted on himself was agonizing but at least he felt as though he'd accomplished something, however small, but he conceded defeat when he stared at the row of itty bitty buttons.

"Could use a hand with these, Love," he said, eyes still downcast with embarrassment.

"Of course," Emma replied without judgement, recognizing how difficult all of this was for him. She buttoned it as rapidly as she could, wanting to be ready to move the moment Carlos called. Killian didn't even fight her as she pulled socks onto his bare feet then shoved his boots on. He was basically ready to go as soon as an orderly brought them a transport chair.

It was Tim Stillwater who first poked his head into the room though, informing them that one of his guards spotted Kronk on the floor below them, delivering one of the bouquets Emma had seen him carrying earlier, evidently in attempt to maintain his cover. He seemed to have no indication that he'd been made which was Emma's one consolation. Kronk was just getting too close though, she fretted, so caught up in that thought that she practically jumped when her phone rang. Carlos' timing couldn't have been better.

The conversation was brief – Carlos instructed her to meet him outside by the ambulance bay. She relayed the plan to Tim who ducked out of the room in search of the tardy orderly while Emma tossed their last few items into the backpack, the last of which was the specimen jar containing the broken tip of the dagger. They were going to need this later.

In minutes, they were ready to go and despite some minor grumbling on Killian's part, Emma and the orderly managed to get the pirate maneuvered into the wheelchair. He wasn't particularly enthusiastic about his wife having to push him, still cursing his inability to walk, but with no other choice available at the present, he swallowed his pride and accepted the aid.

Handing Killian the backpack to hold onto while she pushed the chair, Emma was noticeably tense while they awaited Tim's signal that Carlos was in position. Tim had already waved off the orderly, circumventing standard hospital protocol in this situation to avoid additional sets of prying eyes. So many thoughts were swirling through her head but her primary concern was for Killian. The morphine would wear off soon, plunging him back into severe agony. It pained her to even think of subjecting him to it all over again but hopefully, Grandmother would have a solution.

"Carlos is here," Tim announced as he re-entered the room. "Coast is clear to the service elevator, but we need to go now. I've got two of my men guarding the main elevators and one watching the east stairwell. They've been ordered not to engage Mr. Kronk should they encounter him, but I don't want to push our luck."

"We're ready," Emma assured the security chief. "No one else has spotted Kronk yet?"

"We've been keeping a close watch on the security cameras," Tim began as Emma carefully spun the wheelchair around, then pushed it through the doorway and made the turn to her left. "Unfortunately, the cameras don't cover all areas, but unless something has changed in the past few minutes, he's still on the third floor." Emma nodded, quickening her pace as Tim led the way down the unauthorized corridor toward the private elevator.

Reaching the ground floor, the elevator doors parted to reveal another uniformed guard standing sentry. The guard stepped aside to allow them to pass while confirming to his boss that their quarry wasn't in sight. No words were spoken as Tim cleared a path through the busy Emergency area for Emma to follow, making their way toward a side door that exited into the ambulance bay which was typically only used by paramedics. On the other side of that door, Carlos stood outside of the Park Service SUV and he immediately jumped into action to help Emma get Killian into the vehicle. They had to do this quickly as they didn't want to remain out here, exposed, for too long.

While Emma and Carlos scrambled to get her mobility-impaired husband into the relative safety of the SUV, above them, Nehemiah Kronk had reached the fourth floor, closing in on their prior location. Intensive Care was a little trickier for the former Marshal to navigate as the rules generally permitted only immediate family. He'd approached the desk in his guise of delivery man, inquiring about a patient by name of Killian Jones and very briefly explaining that he had a delivery from the patient's family back in New England, but they hadn't known his room number. The nurse behind the desk denied him any information, but as he listened to her response about patient privacy and safety, Kronk's eyes were soaking up every little detail around the desk. He noticed that the rack of patient charts contained six clipboards, but the names or codes printed on their labels were far too small to read from his vantage point so he mentally tried to correlate them to the surrounding rooms that might appear to be occupied. Out of the eight rooms in this ward, six had closed doors and but open curtains to allow nurses clear view of the patients, one had an open door and open curtain, and the eighth had its door open but curtains were drawn closed. If occupied rooms were indicated by those closed doors, what was different about this possibly unoccupied room that led to its curtains being closed?

Kronk grinned at his good fortune as an alarm suddenly drew the nurse's attention away. In the brief seconds that her back was turned to focus on another patient, Kronk darted into the room with the open door, prepared to apologize should the room be occupied but he couldn't help but indulge his curiosity that this room could be related to the pirate.

Ducking inside, he could tell that the room was either occupied or had been very recently vacated as the bed linens were still rumpled and a not-fully depleted bag of IV fluids still hung above the bed. The patient's chart had already been removed so Kronk took a brief inventory in hopes something might have been left behind that could confirm the identity of the room's occupant. The countertops were bare and monitors were already powered off, but he realized that the trash can hadn't yet been emptied as a basic brown, heavily taped cardboard box caught his eye. He snatched the box out of the waste can and a smile widened across his face as he recognized the addressee – Emma Jones, Care of Ranger C. Littlecreek.

The remainder of the address label was torn but he had enough evidence to confirm his suspicion. The Storybrooke savior and her pirate husband had been here, the injury he'd inflicted on the pirate severe enough to warrant Intensive Care treatment and scrutiny. He also realized that it meant that the item he sought likely wasn't here any longer. A surgeon would certainly have removed it, probably with complications, but it meant he'd still have to track down Sheriff Emma and his first clue was the second name on the discarded package.

C. Littlecreek. Ranger?

Was that how they'd made their way off of the mountain? Assistance from a Park Ranger?

He tried to speculate how this new information would aid him when his train of thought was momentarily derailed when a young, dark-haired woman clad in flowery scrubs strolled into the room pushing a small cart, presumably to collect the used bed linens.

"Oh, sorry," the startled woman stammered. "Wasn't expecting anyone to be in here…"

"Apologies," Kronk replied, plastering a fake smile onto his lips. "The patient who was in this room, Mr. Jones, do you know what happened to him?"

"Sorry, all I was told was that the patient room was empty and I got sent to clean up," the woman responded.

"Ah, well, someone Mr. Jones knew back East sent him a get well bouquet that I was trying to deliver. Unless we have a new location to deliver it, I guess it's going back to the shop," Kronk explained, hoping it would make his presence less questionable.

"Afraid I can't help you," the young woman stated as she yanked the blanket from the bed. Kronk smiled at her one last time before exiting the room, thankful that the nurse at the desk was still occupied and didn't appear to have noticed his nosing around the vacant room without authorization.

Pausing in the elevator lobby, Kronk took a moment to gather his thoughts and ponder his options. Had the pirate been move to a different room within this same facility or had he been discharged? The latter seemed unlikely from Intensive Care, but then the possibility remained that Jones died. If he wasn't dead, he might have been moved, but was he still here or had he been transferred to another facility? There were still dozens of rooms to search in this building but while he knew he was on the right track, should he keep searching or regroup and try another approach?

He thought about that second name on the torn address label, C. Littlecreek. He wasn't in Texas so the title of Ranger most likely would refer to a National Parks Service Ranger, the same inclination he'd had earlier, before he'd been interrupted. A fortuitous encounter with a Park Ranger had likely saved the pirate's life and it didn't seem like much of a stretch to think that the Sheriff might have befriended that same Ranger. She'd obviously had her package mailed to the Ranger's address, probably a place of employment based on use of the title. A Park Service field office maybe?

Now, armed with this new lead, he was convinced he was close. His prize was well within his grasp and with that, he'd be home soon.

Tagging @killian-whump for this latest update as I think I forgot to tag her on the last chapter. (I realize that this chapter is a little light on the whump unless you want to count bested by a button down shirt) Not done with the pirate just yet though. If anyone else would like to be tagged for future chapters, please let me know!

#cs ff #cs fan fic #cs fan fiction #captain swan ff #only a little superstitious

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tincanspaceship · 6 years ago

Text

Per Aspera Ad Astra, ch.3

(ch.1) (ch.2)

Thanks to @onaperduamedee, @elissastillstands, and @speedygal for their input!

Word count-3485

rating-t

Philippa’s suitcase shut with a satisfying thunk. Michael perched on the edge of her bed, elbows balancing on her case. She reached out and slipped Philippa's hair out of its sloppy bun. Philippa held still as Michael rearranged her curls, slender fingers combing through her tangles, pressing against her cheek.

Do you have everything, Michael?

Michael shuffled forwards to plant a kiss on Philippa's cheek. Her unease leaked into Philippa's mind.

Are you all right, my love?

...I was just looking at the Vulcan studies on mind-melds…

Philippa reached for Michael's hand, her fingers working their way between Michael's.

And what?

Our meld–specifically, the lasting strength of our meld–shouldn't be possible. Many people who are quite close do sometimes pick up on the other’s emotions well on into their life. But thoughts...never, never after two weeks have passed, let alone six months. And we're human, only one of us has Vulcan training.

Gays do it better.

What?

Accept it for what it is. A statistical improbability that just happened to fall on us by sheer coincidence. I know you're worried.

Philippa’s subtle smile and her flushed cheeks were enough to make Michael's anxiety fade a little. “You're right.”

“The captain is always right, Michael. When will you learn?” Philippa's brilliant grin tugged at Michael’s self-control. “Now, checklist. Do you have everything?”

“Yes. I will only partake in your unnecessary checklist if we're going to–” Michael sighed in distaste, “–cuddle.” Philippa absolutely beamed.

“You said it!”

“Yes, I said it. Shut up and move over,” Michael grumbled. Philippa's eyes gleamed as she shuffled over and patted the free side of the bed. Michael swivelled and hopped over their luggage, ending up with Philippa's hand on her forearm, sprawled on the mattress. She flipped onto her side and wrapped her arms around Philippa's waist, guiding Philippa's head to the hollow of her neck, jaw resting on her collarbone and hair tickling her throat.

“Ready, Burnham?”

“I still think this is unnecessary.”

“Toothbrush?”

“Check.”

“One week’s worth of clothes?”

“Check.”

“Swimsuit?”

“How long is this list?” Michael muttered.

“Hush. Swimsuit?”

Michael sighed. “Check.”

“Walking shoes?”

“Check.”

“Girlfriend?”

Michael squeezed Philippa a little tighter. “Check,” she chuckled.

“Good. I've taught you–” The beeping of the computer cut her off.

“Incoming call to Commander Michael Burnham,” it announced. Michael disentangled herself from Philippa, with a sigh. She sat up and ran her hand through her hair, grabbing her display PADD off her shelf, straightening her collar.

“Route call through PADD, computer,” she ordered, adjusting the angle to hide Philippa from view. Philippa managed to slip her hand into Michael’s while still remaining hidden.

Amanda's face flickered into view. Michael's sharp inhale was not lost on Philippa.

“Michael!” Amanda smiled. Michael tightened her grip on Philippa's fingers.

“Hello, Amanda.” Michael's smile was convincing.

I'm here, Michael, I'm here, Philippa soothed, brushing her thumb across Michael's.

“I'm sorry to call you right before your shore leave, but...your father needs to talk to you.” Amanda's eyes crinkled as she talked, her mouth turned upwards slightly.

Michael, make up an excuse. In case you...need to hang up.

“I may have to leave. The transporter room can't wait for me forever.”

“Of course. Sarek?” Michael stiffened. Philippa stroked her back, tracing circles along her spine.

I've got you. Promise me that you'll hang up if you need to?

I promise, Philippa.

Sarek appeared on the screen, face blank. Michael's breathing hitched.

“Greetings, Michael.”

“Hello, Sarek,” she managed, through her teeth. Her knuckles turned pink from her grip on the display.

“I am sorry to delay your departure, however, I must discuss my behaviour six months ago.” Michael hand trembled around Philippa's.

Michael. I love you.

Philippa's voice echoed in Michael’s head as a quiet reminder. Michael swallowed and nodded, solemn. “What must we discuss?”

“I behaved irrationally.”

“You did,” Michael stated, blunt.

“I behaved irrationally because of an extreme imbalance of my mental state, due to a lack of sleep and exposure to an unknown virus that destroyed my rational thinking,” he explained.

Philippa...oh, is he serious?

Michael suppressed a sarcastic snort. “Really,” she said, voice just slightly too loud.

Keep yourself together. And listen.

“I...take it you don't believe me. Please, Michael, I did not mean to say what I did.”

“Swear on Amanda,” Michael demanded, shaking slightly.

Michael?

I'm just making sure, Philippa.

Sarek took a deep breath. “I swear on Amanda Grayson’s life that what I have said was not trickery.”

Michael felt her chest tighten.

Michael, are you going to be okay?

Yes...I hope. I'll hang up if I have to.

“Okay, Sarek. I believe you. And Captain Georgiou–she is nothing if not protective, and she exaggerated the amount that you have affected my life negatively.”

Did I really?

Not as much as I would have him believe, but yes.

Hmph.

“My apologies for my behaviour. No caretaker should act like that to their ward.” Philippa felt Michael's anger rise.

Caretaker and ward. I am his daughter!

Michael, keep your head on straight.

“Did you try your hardest to support me, as a child? I can answer that for you, because I know you didn't. Did you think that letting me be human may have been a better choice?” Michael's voice sharpened. She felt Philippa's palm press between her shoulder blades, massaging the spot that pleasantly forced her to straighten her spine.

“I...believe I did everything in my power to raise you well,” Sarek responded.

Michael's expression softened. “I don't think you could do your very best. I was, after all, a small child, a human, with post-traumatic stress disorder, with anxiety, with demons. One who ended up in fights she didn't want to be in, who came home with broken bones.” Michael was thoroughly shuddering at this point, her hand entwined with Philippa's, grounding her.

Do you want to go, Michael? I think I can feel your nausea.

I need to finish this.

She took a shaky breath and continued. “But you tried. You tried what you thought was best. It wasn't, but it was something. You had two other children to take care of. It was a family, a disastrous one, but a family still.”

A long pause spread between them, Michael's ragged breathing compressing her in her quarters.

“And…and when Philippa came by and gave me a new family, I was integrated immediately, with no bias. I came to love the Shenzhou family as much as ours.”

Philippa, will you keep drawing on my back? It calms me down.

Of course, Michael. Her finger began drawing swirls across the plane of Michael's ribs.

“When I was on a mission as a lieutenant, on which my mental state deteriorated, I had a…breakdown, of a sort. My training failed me. Philippa noticed me, she came over and sat with me, kept me in her arms and talked to me until it passed, until her shoulder was thoroughly tear-stained, and I fell asleep on her lap while she held my hands and told me stories. She cared so much, she cares so much still. And she would do the same for any member of this crew, current or past,” Michael whispered.

Michael, you should leave. I think you're about to need my shoulder to cry on again.

I just--I need, I need, I need a minute more.

“You sat by me in silence until I could calm down, you even left when I cried. Which, I suppose, makes sense to a Vulcan. And of course I didn't want you to leave, so I stopped crying. You tried to make me Vulcan, and it didn't work, it forced me to focus everything I had on grades and school, it isolated me. And you did love me, I know that you did and you do. But there's no friend-making when you're always studying or learning, a hundred different things to keep yourself safe and make sure you didn't fall behind.” Michael inhaled at the end of her sentence, soothed by Philippa tracing constellations down her spine. Still, she felt her throat tighten and a stabbing pain settled at the bottom of her rib cage. Her hands shook and she stared at Sarek with wide eyes, who seemed to be in shock. He gaped at her for a moment.

Transporters, Michael.

“I have to leave. The transporters are being disabled for maintenance in fifteen minutes,” she blurted. Sarek nodded.

“Amanda and I are staying on Earth, in Paris for the entirety of your shore leave. You would be welcome to stay with us.” Michael raised a wobbly eyebrow.

“I am staying in Pulau Langkawi. With Captain Georgiou.”

An almost-silent oh came from Sarek’s direction. “Of course.”

“I am sorry, Sarek. I need time. Live long and prosper.” She hung up before Sarek could respond. The PADD flew across the room, clattering into the doorway. Michael collapsed. Philippa shot up to catch her.

Michael, I'm here, I love you, it's going to be okay because I'm here and I love you.

Michael's whole body shook, her eyes shut and spilling over with tears. She crumpled, muscles tense and Philippa's arms holding her tightly, breathing quick and jagged.

“Computer, turn off lights!” Philippa ordered. She flicked back the covers, and let Michael cling to her as she leant back.

Is there something I can do, Michael?

Just...please don't go, please?

Of course I won't go!

She shuffled around and managed to pull herself into bed with Michael, tugging the blankets to cover them. Philippa tightened her grip on Michael. She felt Michael's hands slip up into her hair, rhythmically stroking the waves with trembling fingers.

Michael, try and synch your breathing with mine, if you can. I think it'll help.

I-I'll try–please…

It's okay, my love. We can stay here as long as we need.

Philippa felt one of Michael's hands leave her scalp. It came to rest on her stomach, palm flat against her muscles, the pads of her quivering fingers across Philippa's ribs. Michael took a careful, slow breath, hovering on her exhale. It matched Philippa's measured breathing.

Just like that. Deep breath.

There's too much...there's too much–, it's-

Michael whimpered. Philippa's heart strained.

Do you need-uh...what's the word? Sen-sensory deprivation?

I–suppose that's...maybe? I just try to–focus on one thing-uh...

Michael buried her face farther into Philippa's neck. She felt the damp splotches on Michael's shaking cheeks, the gentle pressure on her abdomen lifting. Michael's fingers spread across Philippa's biceps, squeezing the stiff muscles.

Will you...sing for me?

Of course. I'm not good, though.

Philippa coughed. Her voice filled the silent room, a quiet whispering of Malay into Michael's ear. Philippa's throaty whisper slipped into Michael's mind.

Philippa...it’s helping. A lot.

Good.

The familiar inflections of Philippa's singing calmed Michael. Her shaking ebbed and faded, hands still clutching desperately at Philippa's shoulders. She sank her teeth into Philippa's collar in an attempt to mute her sobbing.

Philippa looked down at her partner, face contorted with screams, tears spilling everywhere and eyes bloodshot, holding onto Philippa as if she would be hurled into the vacuum of space if she let go, fabric balled in her mouth.

Time slowed.

Philippa's voice faded.

“Oh, Michael!” she breathed. Her hands reached for Michael's cheeks, pulling her closer. She pressed their foreheads together, the tip of their noses touching. Michael opened her eyes a crack, lashes heavy, tears trickling. She mirrored Philippa's grip. Her hands pulled carefully on Philippa's hair, curling the strands around her fingers.

“It's going to go away, Michael. And we'll go down to Pulau Langkawi and go swimming. And you're going to meet my mother, and she'll make you the most delicious laksa. Okay?” Michael nodded, a tiny jerk of her chin. “But first, we’re gonna stay right here until you feel better. And I'm not ever going to leave.” She adjusted her position to plant a kiss on Michael's vague smile, wiping away her tears.

Philippa. I love you.

I love you, Mikey. Do you mind...not chewing on my uniform?

Michael's weak chuckle as she spat out Philippa's collar mixed with the sound of shuffling blankets.

I'm so sorry. I didn't realise–I'm sorry.

Are you feeling better?

I need…

“Fifteen minutes,” she finished. She melted into Philippa's torso, hands resting gently on her shoulders. Her toes curled and relaxed in her boots. Philippa could still feel Michael's erratic heartbeat, shaky breathing matching Philippa’s.

“Okay, Michael.” She nuzzled Michael’s forehead, inhaling the Starfleet soap that Michael insisted on using. Her grip left Michael’s face and dropped to her waist. She clung to the textured fabric across Michael’s back, fingers spread.

“You're...you don't mind waiting?” Michael mumbled, muffled by Philippa's jacket.

“Of course not. Michael, I love you, and I don't mind at all. Just let me know when you're ready.” Michael's tiny hum of happiness warmed Philippa's heart. She grinned into Michael's curls.

“And I'm making you take a picture in front of the eagle in Langkawi.”

•

Philippa poked Michael in the shoulder. “Put that book down, and get swimming! I'm going to drag you into the water with your clothes on.” She wrung out her hair over Michael's face, who sighed, leaning her head back and tilting her book away. “You can read on the Shenzhou.”

“It would be logical to continue reading. The end of the chapter is near.” Philippa groaned and slammed the book down into Michael's abdomen. She received a somewhat-insulting glare from Michael, who gingerly picked up the book and rested it on the arm of her chair while placing the bookmark in the correct position.

“Come on. The water is beautiful and no one’s around.”

“Because it's raining, Philippa.” Michael adjusted her umbrella to expose Philippa to the heavy drops.

“Like I said. The water’s beautiful, and no one’s around.” She grinned and wrapped her fingers firmly around Michael's wrist.

“Hey!” Philippa yanked her out of her seat, dragging her directly into the rain. Her bare feet dug into the sand. Michael sputtered as she inhaled a raindrop, desperately searching traction against the soggy ground, fully soaked. “Let me go!”

Never!

Philippa shifted her grip and bent down, slinging Michael over her shoulders. Michael's squeal hit Philippa's ear. She scrabbled at Philippa's stomach, trying to find her ticklish spot, feet flailing wildly to her right. She felt the gentle pressure of Philippa's arms holding her in place, wrapped around her neck and the inside of her knee. Michael's fingers made contact with the bottom of Philippa's ribcage. Philippa snorted and swung Michael's arms away, laughter creeping out of her mouth.

“Ah! You are ticklish!” Michael exclaimed, reaching with spidery fingers to her side.

“That was a mistake, Michael!” Philippa responded to Michael's attack by hurling her into the blue-grey waters. Michael surfaced and sputtered. Her loose pants floated around her legs, yellow contrasting sharply with the water. She yanked them off, revealing the bottom of her Fleet-issue wetsuit, and balled them up before tossing back to shore.

“No, that was a mistake, Philippa,” Michael teased. She lunged for Philippa's waist, who dodged it and sent Michael flying into the water. She wiped rain out of her eyes.

“You know, Michael,” Philippa began, sending a wave of water in Michael's direction, “by bathing suit I didn't mean a Starfleet wetsuit meant for caving.” She knocked Michael's leg out from under her and flicked water at her rain-soaked face. “I meant a more...human bathing suit. That doesn't hide all your lovely muscles.” Michael paused her attack.

“You wanted me to wear something so you could...admire me?”

“I'm your girlfriend. I'm allowed to admire the fact that you could toss me halfway to Vulcan.” She avoided Michael's spray with a deft sidestep.

“As am I. Although you have made it...much easier.” Philippa's bathing suit showed her strength while still being rather modest, her stomach half-covered by the crimson bottoms. Michael brushed a finger across Philippa's raised abdominal muscles. “You look good in red.”

“You look good in anything, Michael.” Philippa's hand twisted into Michael's, and she raised them to her lips and pressed a kiss to Michael's toughened knuckles. She made eye contact, smirking, other hand coming to snatch Michael's elbow. Michael caught a whiff of Philippa's plan.

Philip–PHILIPPA!

Michael was tossed over Philippa's shoulder again, this time slamming into the sea headfirst. She forced her eyes open and made a desperate attempt to grab at Philippa's foot. It worked. Philippa tumbled into the water, Michael shooting up and towards the shore. She pulled herself back onto the sand, lying with her legs in the waves, letting the downpour soak into her bones. Philippa crawled up next to her, shaking out her hair.

“Feeling okay?” Philippa's head rested on Michael's ribs, with her arms wrapped around her waist. Michael's hand played with Philippa's soaked curls.

“I'm okay.” Michael's chuckle bounced Philippa's cheek. “I take that back. I'm cold.” Philippa rolled off Michael, shivering.

“Ditto.” She extended a hand to Michael. They headed back up to Philippa's cottage, Michael pausing to retrieve her pants and collect her book and umbrella. She huddled with Philippa under the waterproof dome. Their footprints filled with rain seconds after they left them in the sand. Philippa clutched the railing tightly as Michael opened the door, closing the umbrella under the protection of the the porch. Her book was held tightly to her chest.

“My mother would say we'd catch our death of cold.”

“Your mother would be correct,” Michael responded, throwing her book on the couch and leaning the umbrella up against a window. “The chances–”

“I don't need to hear statistics. I need dry clothes.” She tossed Michael a protein bar off the dinner table and gnawed on one as she dipped into their bedroom. Michael threw her soaked pants across a chair, biting off a huge chunk of her granola bar. She shivered.

“Do you want your sweater, Michael?” Philippa called, accompanied by the rustling of clothes.

“Yes, please, Philippa.” A lump of fabric shot out the door. Michael picked it up and untangled her warm sweater, a SHENZ shirt, socks, underwear, and Philippa's oversized fuzzy pyjama pants. Michael sighed. She slipped into the washroom and emerged a minute later, her hair still dripping across her sweater. Philippa stuck her head into the central room.

“Are you warming up?” Michael nodded and pushed the door open. Philippa promptly fell backwards into their bed, curling under the duvet. “Good. Join me?” Michael smiled and sat on the corner of the bed, stroking Philippa's forehead with damp fingers.

“You're so adorable,” Michael cooed, brushing her damp hair out of her face. Philippa covered her face with a pillow and groaned.

“No I'm not,” she grumbled, muffled by the sheets. “Stop.” Michael draped an arm over her shoulder.

“I think you deserve a little flattery, Philippa,” Michael said, smirking. Philippa made an unintelligible noise and threw her pillow at Michael. “Is that how you treat your girlfriend?”

“Yes,” she mumbled, retreating under the blanket. Michael ran her hand through the chunks of hair that peeked out.

“You're still adorable, Philippa. Accept it.” She peeled back the covers and kissed Philippa's forehead, tucking her legs in and sliding in right next to Philippa.

“Never,” Philippa groaned, nestling herself in Michael's arms. “You're the pretty one.” She felt Michael's heavy exhale.

We can both be adorable, Philippa.

Hmph.

Philippa's hand wrapped around Michael's face, her palm gently shoving her away. Michael detached Philippa's spidery fingers, leaning in for a quick kiss. She took it with a smile.

“I love you, Philippa.” Michael whipped the stark white cover over them, sealing them inside a deflating dome. Philippa poked at the top of the impromptu tent.

“I love you too, ya dork,” Philippa admitted, nose bumping against Michael's neck.

Don't call me a dork, Philippa. It's unoriginal.

Okay. Nerd!

Seriously?

Philippa snorted and made herself sneeze. Michael chuckled, and tousled Philippa's hair.

“Dork,” Philippa grumbled, half asleep.

“Says the person with an honest-to-god telescope, Philippa,” Michael retorted.

“Oh, fuck off,” Philippa spat, with little force. Michael laughed at the unusually rude words.

I take it we won't be seeing your parents on our last day?

Michael's breath caught in her throat.

...no. I feel bad for Amanda, but I can't risk breaking down in front of Sarek.

All right. I'm sorry my mother wasn't around most of this week…

It's okay. I did meet her. She's a carbon copy of you, just thirty-odd years older.

“Hey! Should I be offended by that?”

No. Although there are some differences…

If you're about to make a dig at my cooking skills, I'm gonna force it down your throat.

Point taken.

Philippa snuggled into Michael. “Good night, Michael.”

“Philippa, it's noon.”

“Good night, Michael.” Michael sighed.

Philippa's soft snoring filled the room a few minutes later.

#michael burnham #philippa georgiou #writing adventures of tin can.tag #milippa #star trek discovery #michael x philippa

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sportsmania2 · 3 years ago

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History of basketball

The history of basketball began with its invention in 1891 in Springfield, Massachusetts by Canadian physical education instructor James Naismith as a less injury-prone sport than football. Naismith was a 31-year old graduate student when he created the indoor sport to keep athletes indoors during the winters. The game became established fairly quickly and grew very popular as the 20th century progressed, first in America and then in other parts of the world. After basketball became established in American colleges, the professional game followed. The 벳무브 American National Basketball Association (NBA), established in 1946, grew to a multibillion-dollar enterprise by the end of the century, and basketball became an integral part of American culture.

Early history

Invention of the game

The game of basketball as it is known today was created by Dr. James Naismith in December 1891 in Springfield, Massachusetts, to condition young athletes during cold months. Naismith was a physical education instructor at YMCA International Training School (now known as Springfield College) in Springfield, Massachusetts. Upon the request of his boss, Naismith was tasked to create an indoor sports game to help athletes keep in shape in cold weather. It consisted of peach baskets and a soccer style ball. He published 13 rules for the new game. He divided his class of eighteen into two teams of nine players each and set about to teach them the basics of his new game. The objective of the game was to throw the basketball into the fruit baskets nailed to the lower railing of the gym balcony. Every time a point was scored, the game was halted so the janitor could bring out a ladder and retrieve the ball. After a while, the bottoms o

Naismith's original rules

1. There were only thirteen rules of "basket ball":

2. The ball may be thrown in any direction with one or both hands.

3. The ball may be batted in any direction with one or both hands.

4. A player cannot run with the ball, the player must throw it from the spot on which he catches it, allowance to be made for a man who catches the ball when running at good speed.

5. The ball must be held in or between the hands, the arms or body must not be used for holding it.

6. No shouldering, holding, pushing, tripping or striking in any way the person of an opponent shall be allowed. The first infringement of this rule by any person shall count as a foul, the second shall disqualify him until the next goal is made, or if there was evident intent to injure the person, for the whole of the game, no substitute.

7. A foul is striking the ball with the fist, violation of rules 3 and 4, and such as described in rule 5.

8. If either side makes three consecutive fouls it shall count a goal for opponents.

9. A goal shall be made when the ball is thrown or batted from grounds into the basket and stays there. If the ball rests on the edge and the opponent moves the basket it shall count as a goal.

10. When the ball goes out of bounds it shall be thrown into the field and played by the person first touching it. In case of a dispute, the umpire shall throw it straight into the field. The "thrower-in" is allowed five seconds. If he holds it longer it shall go to the opponent. If any side persists in delaying the game, the umpire shall call a foul on them.

11. The umpire shall be the judge of the men and shall note the fouls, and notify the referee when three consecutive fouls have been made.

12. The referee shall be the judge of the ball and shall decide when the ball is in play, in-bounds, and to which side it belongs, and shall keep the time. He shall decide when a goal has been made and keep account of the goals with any other duties that are usually performed by a referee.

13. The time shall be fifteen-minute halves, with five-minute rests between.

14. The side making the most goals in that time shall be declared the winner. In the case of a draw, the game may, by agreement of the captains, be continued until another goal is made.

The first basketball game

The first basketball court: Springfield College On December 21, 1891, Naismith published rules for a new game using five basic ideas and thirteen rules. That day, he asked his class to play a match in the Armory Street court: 9 versus 9, using a soccer ball and two peach baskets. Frank Mahan, one of his students, wasn't so happy. He just said: "Harrumph. Another new game". Someone proposed to call it "Naismith Game", but he suggested "We have a ball and a basket: why don’t we call it basketball?" The eighteen players were John G. Thompson, Eugene S. Libby, Edwin P. Ruggles, William R. Chase, T. Duncan Patton, Frank Mahan, Finlay G. MacDonald, William H. Davis and Lyman Archibald, who defeated George Weller, Wilbert Carey, Ernest Hildner, Raymond Kaighn, Genzabaro Ishikawa, Benjamin S. French, Franklin Barnes, George Day and Henry Gelan 1–0. The goal was scored by Chase. There were other differences between Naismith's first idea and the game played today. The peach baskets were closed, and balls had to be retrieved manually, until a small hole was put in the bottom of the peach basket to poke the ball out using a stick. Only in 1906 were metal hoops, nets and backboards introduced. In 1894 the soccer ball was replaced by a ball Naismith contracted Spalding to make.

First international games

After its arrival in Europe, 스보벳 basketball developed very quickly. In 1909 the first international match was held in Saint Petersburg: Mayak Saint Petersburg beat a YMCA American team. The first great European event was held in 1919 in Joinville-le-Pont, near Paris, during the Inter-Allied Games. United States, led by future Hall of Fame player Max Friedman, won against Italy and France, and then Italy beat France. Basketball soon became popular among French and Italians. The Italian team had a white shirt with the House of Savoy shield and the players were: Arrigo and Marco Muggiani, Baccarini, Giuseppe Sessa, Palestra, Pecollo and Bagnoli.

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asterinjapan · 6 years ago

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It’s a small world after all...

Good morning!

As predicted, I didn’t get to update my blog yesterday anymore, because it did indeed get a little late, haha. Thankfully it was for good reason: yesterday was Disney day!

I just finished trying to stuff all my souvenirs into my bags to see if it all fits, so I’ll give you yesterday’s report without further ado. Today’s report will follow later, as will yesterday’s photos. There’s a lot to sort through ;)

We got up early to get the 8:30 AM train to Tokyo station, from where we took the Keiyo or Musashino line down for Maihama, the closest station to the Disney Resort. However, the Keiyo had a delay of about half an hour (!), so when we got there, the train that was supposed to leave 25 minutes ago just entered the station. Lucky for us, and not entirely unsurprisingly, it was a rather full train, haha.

Fifteen minutes later we hit Maihama station, and off we went for Disneyland!

My friend really likes roller coasters, so we first went to Splash Mountain to get her a Fast Pass. The park had barely been open for an hour and a half, and the fastpasses were already at the return time of 5 PM, whoa. We secured her one and then moved over to It’s a Small World, which had a queue of 45 minutes. That sounds rather ridiculous for It’s a Small World, but it’s been closed for over 8 months for rigorous restorations and for some very important additions. You see, this year marks Tokyo Disneyland’s 35th anniversary. For the occasion, they’d renewed It’s a Small World and inserted new dolls, all of Disney characters placed in their home countries. They went up as recent as Moana, and it was a lot of fun spotting all the characters. The ride looks mint new now too – I couldn’t go last year, but from what I remember from 2016 and earlier, it did look rather old compared to other attractions. Can’t say so anymore now!

That was super fun, so with that earworm stuck in our heads for the rest of the day, we decided to take a rest with an ice cream and figure out our plan for the rest of the morning. We were approached by a cast member, who told us about this being the anniversary year and then decided to reward us with special medals for the anniversary year. To top it off, she also gave us a fast pass for whichever roller coaster ride of choice, no time slot or waiting time required!

So that was really super neat, and as it turned out later, we really were lucky, since we spotted maaaaybe 2 other people in the entire park with the same award. We kept being congratulated by other cast members too, so we felt very special all day, haha.

My friend had become interested in the Star Tours attraction – we could use the fastpass for it, but it was only a 30 minute wait, so we took the bystander entrance and walked on. I have to confess I eventually noped out, since only the very final warning before boarding warned for sudden drops, and I really don’t do well with those. The attraction was apparently very nice, though if you’re, like us, not a Star Wars fan, it’s probably not going to be your favourite.

I was very happy when my friend mentioned she wanted to try the Philharmagic attraction next, because that one is one of my favourites, haha. It’s a 4D attraction of what was supposed to be a concert conducted by Mickey Mouse, except Donald Duck takes over and messes up, taking you on a wild journey through various Disney songs. It’s really tons of fun, and luckily my friend really enjoyed herself too.

We had lunch then and my friend went into Space Mountain, for which she thankfully also managed a fastpass, because I noped out there as well, haha. I strolled around to do some shopping and we met half an hour later, which was well-timed for the both of us, so that was good!

We were in time to catch the full daytime parade Sansui, which eh, has a lot of water. It was fun, but I wanted to take photos, and I really had to take refuge under the trees. The wind was picking up and Donald Duck had sprayed me with his water hose before, but I could avoid it this time and managed to take some pictures while my friend just enjoyed getting splashed with this weather, haha. (It was sadly 33 C again and sunny. Sunny’s nice! The temperature less so.)

Next up was Pirates of the Caribbean, which I’m sure was underwhelming for my friend after those wilder rides, haha, but it’s still fun. When we got out, she went on to use the free fast pass for the Big Thunder Mountain while I went to find a place for the next big event: the Dreaming Up! Parade, which is new and should be very spectacular.

My friend made it back in time and we settled in. I eventually got up for better pictures, which was a shame, because I got sandwiched between someone who made pictures with her iPad still in one of those book-like covers, and someone else who felt compelled to wave at every single person passing, which is nice, but less so when you keep getting that hand in your frame.

Either way, the parade definitely lived up to the hype. There was even a float for Big Hero 6, which is a rarity and maybe a first for Disney parks, as far as I know. I think I managed to take a couple of decent pictures despite my place and the setting sun, so you’ll get to see those later.

While my friend made it to Splash Mountain, I did some more shopping and made it back so early I was fairly sure I could still catch her. I thus went up to the ride, switched to my big lens and managed to indeed take a picture while she plunged into the watery depths of the ride, haha.

So we both had lots of fun! We walked over to the castle to take some much needed pictures with it as a background before the sun completely set (I’d scored mouse ears by this point, so clearly I needed to pose with those), and then we went out for dinner. We learnt a wise lesson there about leaving food out in Disneyland, because out of nowhere, a huge crow swooped down onto the trays with trash and scooped up a piece of bread, whoa. I’m almost tempted to think it was a raven, it was that big.

So uh, don’t leave your food out unguarded in Disneyland, kids!

My friend was happy she’d done all her roller coaster rides, and I was happy with the attractions I’d been on and the shopping I’d gotten done. We went on a repeat next: Philharmagic. Luckily it wasn’t as busy as the first time around (it really was a busy day considering it was Wednesday), and once we got out, it was almost time for the nighttime parade, so we caught that one because we could, haha. They updated it last year and it’s really gotten lovely. (But I’m biased, I really love the Rapunzel float.)

Another repeat as we rushed to It’s a Small World – the queue was at 20 minutes now, but a lot of other people had the same idea, hohum. Luckily it did still turn out to be 20 minutes, more than enough to get the song stuck in our heads again, haha.

We still had some time left, so we went over to Monsters, Inc. Ride & Go Seek, which I’ve never been to because it’s one of the most popular attractions, but the waiting time was down to 50 minutes now and we were planning on being swept out of the park by closing time anyway, so what the heck, haha. I haven’t actually watched Monsters Inc., but the ride is very fun. You get thrown into a car with 2 or 3 people and you get flashlights. The ride itself is pretty fast and drives you through all kinds of scenarios featuring blue helmets with eyes on them. You have to hit the eyes with your flashlight to reveal monsters, or in some cases, the little girl Boo.

So that was super fun! We still had about half an hour left, so I dragged my friend into Pooh’s Hunny Hunt, which is unique for Disneyparks and also one of the more popular ones here. The wait was still about half an hour, but that’s much better than the average of 90 minutes during daytime. Pooh’s Hunny Hunt doesn’t have a set track, so every time you ride it, your trip is different. Mine was a lot different from the previous couple of times too, so we had a lot of fun and it really was a nice way to end the day.

Even if we did get chased out by the announcements kindly but sternly reminding us that the park was closing, oops.

The train back to Tokyo was busy as expected, but we could sit on the Yamanote line to Ikebukuro (still busy though, despite it being 11 PM at this point), and we made it to our hotel rooms at 11:30 PM.

So yeah, that’s why I didn’t update my blog yesterday, haha.

The pictures will take some time to sort through, so I’ll get those to you tonight. For now, I’m logging off to go into Ikebukuro one last time. We’re already checked in for our return flight tomorrow, but I really don’t want to think about that…

See you later tonight again!

#japan 2018 #report #report: japan 2018 #places: tokyo disneyland

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theres-no-paradise · 7 years ago

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Sorry not Sorry

Chapter 2

Summary: A random number wakes you up early on a Saturday morning. But it doesn't stop there. The stranger keeps on sending messages, and you have no idea what is happening, when you start to develop feelings for the unknown person.

Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader [submit your name: How it works]

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

Y/N your Name

Y/F your friends name

Word Count: 1646

Warnings: There will be swearing for sure, lots of sarcasm

A/N: Part two of my little series. this chapter is a little shorter but I still hope you enjoy it anyway :)

It was a busy Thursday afternoon as you finished off your shift and got ready to call it a day. As you were packing up your bag, a little blinking light indicated that there was a new unread message on your smartphone. Sighing, you ignored the phone, since you didn't had time to check who messaged you as the train would be leaving soon. Thursdays were mostly the busiest and longest days for you at work. During peak hours, lots of customers would come in at the same time and that meant for you to multitask. Of course, you still had your colleagues around to help out but you wanted to do a good job as well and your boss to notice your hard work, so thursdays were more than exhausting for you.

As you were about to leave the building, you turned around and called out a “See ya’ll tomorrow”, before heading out into the warm spring day in London.

You hurried to the train station, taking two steps at once to reach the platform in time only to get greeted by a sign that had the information of delay on it. “Urgh fifteen minutes? When will the TFL get their shit together?”, you mumbled as you walked over to the bench to sit down and rest from the quick walk. As you waited for your train to arrive, you remembered that there was a message on your phone, waiting to be read. As you pulled out the device, first thing you noticed was the number. Sighing, you opened Whatsapp and checked the new message they’ve sent you.

+44 98 7654 3210: How old are you?

You: Why the fuck would I tell you my age?

After pressing the green send button, you kind of felt bad for the rude counter question. But on the other hand this stranger kind of annoyed you too. Back in the past, some of your fake friends would use your number to do pranks on you. Sometimes even call you in the middle of the night and just give your number out to random strangers, to send you creepy messages as well. Maybe that's why you felt so uneasy about the number texting you now. A vibration signalled you an incoming message and you looked at the screen again.

+44 98 7654 3210: Because I was asking for your age and not your national insurance number lol

You re-read the sentence a couple of times before you started to giggle. That was an answer you most definitely didn't expect but it cheered you up any way. Okay, maybe this stranger wasn't that bad, you thought.

You sat there for a few minutes, phone still in your handy as you stared down to the streets. Many people were rushing to the train station since it was rush hour time, but you just relaxed a little more and decided to type back a message.

You: And you know that I could tell you anything and it doesn't need to be true

You didn't want to make it too easy for the stranger. If they really wanted to know who they were texting, you would make it a little challenge. You kind of hoped, that with the way you messaged them, they would get annoyed by your stubbornness. Sometimes you enjoyed to be this rude. But only sometimes.

After a delay of a full 18 minutes, your train arrived at the platform. Crowds were moving towards the doors, pushing to get the best seats but you didn't care. The train ride wouldn't last long anyway so you just stood by the door, looking out of the window as the train started moving slowing. Staring out the window and listening to the people talking, another vibration caught your attention.

+44 98 7654 3210: Yeah you could but where's the fun in that? Im 21

You shook your head as you read the message. It kind of made sense to you now, why they were so nosy. Even though you weren't that much older, you smiled as you thought back to your early twenties. You definitely were an annoying young women, getting on the nerves of some of your friends. Sometimes you would talk nonsense, or behave weird, especially when drunk. Once you stopped going out on weekends on a regular basis, this behaviour kind of stopped.

As the train came to an halt in your neighbourhood, you left the waggon and walked down the stairs. Walking home took you a couple of minutes so you decided to text the stranger back.

You: Unbelievable I see why you're like this You are still a baby

+44 98 7654 3210: Ouch So you're older?

You: Somewhat. 25

The next incoming message came after a few minutes. You just got into your apartment as a vibration in your pocket startled you. Throwing your bag onto your sofa, you walked over to your kettle to fill it up with water. You couldn't wait to have a nice cup of tea and just drop down onto your sofa.

While the water boiled, you grabbed your phone to read the unread message.

+44 98 7654 3210: At least you're not a cougar!

“What is wrong with you?”, you asked the phone, shaking your head in disbelief. This must be a guy, you thought. No woman would use such a word. Also, did this person know that you were a girl? Or did they just assume over the way you texted with them? You just replied with one word, before you threw your phone on the table, not minding any more messages.

You: Weirdo

+44 98 7654 3210: :D

+44 98 7654 3210: I never asked for your name

You stared at the message for a couple of minutes, trying to absorb the sentence so that it made sense to you. Well, it did made sense but you felt uneasy about just answering, telling the stranger your name.

You: And why in the world should I tell you my name?

Your message sounded a little passive aggressive but you shrugged it off. This person could still be playing a prank on you or even worse, murder you if they were a serial killer. You started to think if they knew who you were. Maybe this whole thing was really just a prank?

+44 98 7654 3210: Well I wouldn't need to ask if you're a male or female

What a weird way to explain why you wanna know a person's name, wasn't it? You thought about writing down a neutral name, where you couldn't tell if the person was really a guy or a girl but another thought hit you.

You: omg Are you some kind of old ass pedophile?

No answer for about ten minutes and you got frustrated. You were still at work, but Friday afternoons were probably the most relaxed ones.

Just as you started to work on a booking, a new text message came in; but it didn't stop. Your phone vibrated three more times, and you got hold of it immediately, wondering what the sudden storm of messages was about.

+44 98 7654 3210: No!! Just curious! I swear! My names Tom

You laughed out loud.

The way he sent the messages, being all shocked, looked hilarious. You tried to imagine his face, the way his panicked expression must've looked but you couldn't help it and sigh in frustration. You had still no idea, who that person was even though he told you his name. You knew a few Tom’s but they were all mature enough not to do pranks on you. So who was this mysterious 21 year old named Tom, that disturbed your peaceful life?

You decided, to give another cocky answer just in case, you thought.

You: Good for you

You put your phone to the side, to keep on working on the bookings that you’ve just started to manage. After a little while, your phone vibrated again.

+44 98 7654 3210: Someones in a bad mood today

You: Dont you have anything important to do?

+44 98 7654 3210: Other than texting you? Nope :)

What did you expect him to answer, as you read his response? Of course he had fun asking all these questions and getting these sarcastic answers back. But you had to admit, you kind of started to enjoy the exchange of texts and it made you a little uncomfortable. This guy was a stranger after all and the feeling of being played with was still stuck deep in your mind.

You: Bye

+44 98 7654 3210: :(

You: :)

Putting the device back on the table, you concentrated back on your task. This person really had nerves to message you during working hours. A look on the clock told you, that it was nearly finishing time in the office and you hurried to get the last bookings ready. You didn't want customers to be waiting for their Confirmations the whole weekend, so you wanted to have it all ready by the time of closing hour. As you sent out the last Email, you shut off your Computer and packed up your stuff. It was already silent in the building, as most people had already called it a day. Only your boss and his secretary were still on the floor, preparing other stuff for upcoming fairs.

“See you monday”, you shouted and left the front door, hearing two voices calling out “Have a nice weekend” to you. Smiling, you left the office building and walked out to the always busy streets of London.

People were rushing from one place to another, tourists stopped by and took photos of every little detail and you smiled. A simple, close mouthed but happy smile. And then you just took your phone out and typed in the few letters, still smiling.

You: Y/N

Taglist: @hollandorks @beardedsteveslut

(Let me know if you wanna be tagged (: )

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #haz osterfield #tom holland imagine #th #sorry not sorry #sns

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oursyncracyqwo34 · 4 years ago

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What You Should Have Asked Your Teachers About Infants

Make Your KidsA Reality

Sleeping. A toddler is not born ready to rest independently. There is a vast array of kid development, from regular sleeping to more complex toddler growth like hand movements and bowel control. Toddlers begin to develop motor skills, like making sounds or walking. Potty training is another important toddler development milestone that most parents will go through when their infant becomes a toddler.

Most preschoolers will start walking at sometime between four to twelve months of age. During this period, they will have the ability to hold on to the walker with barely any support. Most children will eventually have the ability to carry their own weight and do simple toddler walks. Other milestones include toilet training, eating new foods, playing with other kids, and crawling around the house.

By age 4 years old, most toddlers are no more interested in using the toilet or using the potty. They're capable of brushing and flossing on their own. This is a good sign. However, if your little one shows weird or aggressive behaviour, you might have to work on problems beyond toddler stage behaviour.

If your toddler begins toilet training but doesn't advance past the potty training stage on schedule, you should think about the possibility that he or she's not ready. It's never a good idea to leave a young child unattended in the bathroom. Parents should work together with their child, not just during potty training, but also every time your toddler is playing and exploring.

Toddlers' brains continue to grow as they enter the toddler years. There are many things you, as a parent, can do to help your toddler adjust to his or her environment and increase their intellectual development. You should give your toddler lots of opportunities to do so.

According to current reports, 2% milk offers important antibodies that are essential for the evolution of the growing immune system. A healthy immune system in toddlers helps to ward off illnesses and delays the whole milk allergy.

When should a child know their ABCS?

By age 2: Kids start recognizing some letters and can sing or say aloud the “ABC” song. By age 3: Kids may recognize about half the letters in the alphabet and start to connect letters to their sounds. (As s makes the /s/ sound.) By age 4: Preschoolers often know every one of the letters of the alphabet and their correct order.

There are several other critical milestones that are attained in this time interval that parents tend not to emphasize as much as talking and walking. Gaining the ability to point at whatever it is the little one wants you to see shows enormous psychological gains from a toddler. This generally happens before a child's first birthday. From the time your baby is 12 weeks old, they ought to have ceased using bottles with teats altogether. Your baby needs to be drinking from an open or even a free-flow cup, this helps them learn how to sip rather than suck drinks. Pretend play provides many opportunities to wait, take turns, and reconnect as children decide how the story will unfold. Another idea is playing"sharing audio" where all you chooses a tool to perform and place an egg-timer for 1 minute.

By the end of the second year, many toddlers show more attention in the company of other children. They may not be quite ready to share their toys when they play, but it's a big step in their budding social life.

Some children will have a hard time stopping a PTD - Potty Training Daze tantrum. In these cases, try saying,"I'll allow you to settle down now." But whatever you do, don't benefit your toddler by providing in. This is only going to prove that tantrums are an efficient means to get what he or she would like. Rather, kindly praise your child for regaining self-control. Rememberthat need to teach your child that the best approach to get exactly what he or she needs is through good behaviour. If you know your toddler is tired, it is not the best time to go grocery shopping or attempt to squeeze in one more errand. It is important to not spank, hit, or slap your little one.

At this age, kids will probably not have the ability to make a connection between the behavior and physical punishment. The message you send when you spank is that it is OK to hit someone when you're angry. Experts state that spanking is no more powerful than other forms of discipline, like timeouts. And don't forget that children learn by watching adults, particularly their parents. So make sure that your own behavior is role-model material. When requesting your child to pick up toys, you are going to make a much stronger impression if you've put away your own belongings instead of leaving your stuff all around the room. Toys or dolls may also help you explain the procedure for your toddler.

Between 18 and 24 months, a toddler's mind is prepared to begin playing make-believe. You may grab them"feeding" a teddy bear or speaking into a toy telephone.

But about months, you can expect to hear some real words. Between 18 and 24 months, many kids start using words that are simple, such as"no more" or"go there." By age 2, you may even notice a brief sentence or two. Daily with a toddler is an experience -- and there's so much to look forward to as your child develops. Wondering when your little one will begin to walk, speak, and do all of those cute toddler items? As infants move into their next year of lifethey are more portable and more independent, exploring what they could access.

This stage can begin as early as nine months old depending on the child and surroundings.

Toddlers tend to have temper tantrums because they have such powerful emotions but do not know how to express themselves how older children and adults do.

This era is sometimes referred to as"the terrible twos", due to the temper tantrums for which they're famous.

Never Leave Your Child Alone In The Kitchen. One of the most reckless things for toddlers is having a bottle in their hands while they eat. While babies will latch on to bottles with their palms, you should never leave your baby alone with a bottle - ever. Babies swallow their bottle as a very tiny portion of the hungry body, and this can result in suffocation. While the baby may look like he or she is nursing, the fact is that the baby is simply taking joy from the bottle itself.

Fifteen months is the best age for you to begin making changes on your toddler's diet. You will need to make sure that the kid you have is getting enough nutrients, so start introducing new foods to his or her diet. Start by feeding your toddler three meals each day, at the exact times each day, and be sure each toddler has three little cups of his or her own food. When you start changing up the toddler meals, you'll also see that your toddler will be more receptive to change and eating in a new way.

You'll have to track the toddler constantly, and be certain the toddler has everything he or she needs. Toddlers will develop many negative behaviors if they are not tracked, so constantly supervising them is needed. This implies providing constant supervision when they're doing their homework, potty training, riding the bicycle, playing outdoors, eating meals, and going to bed. With continuous supervision, you can grab toddler behaviors until they become benign and dangerous.

Toddlers and Kids: It's All About Nutrition Caregivers who feed their child with ready-to-eat foods or nutritionally fortified foods often realize that the child develops many bad eating habits because they are given what they want when they are hungry. One of the best ways to keep your toddler healthy is through healthy eating options. When you choose healthy foods to your toddler, you'll find he or she gets tons of vitamins and minerals, and avoid developing bad eating habits.

Toddlers And Toys: It's All About Protection Adults often forget that the toys that they select for their little one can contribute to unintentional injuries or even death. Always check the toy for small parts that may be choking hazards. Never leave a toddler unsupervised near or on the toys. Choose toys that come with a locking mechanism so that the toddler cannot reach and play with the parts. Keep in mind that kids should never be put at risk for choking while playing with any sort of toy.

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