#did I mention it even has some striking and thoughtful depiction of disability on top of it all?

[silencedrowns]

when I say that INU-OH is absolutely transcendent, I mean that it’s quite possibly my favorite theatrical experience of the last 20 years and I do not say this lightly. I had as much reaction to the sheer artistry of this movie that I did in the goddamn Vatican museum. criminally slept on. please do whatever it takes to watch this… it did not do particularly well due to being underpromoted and experimental, which is an absolute crime.

Do You Know This Anime?

[txemrn]

The Missionary's Daughter

Ch. 1: "Meant to Live"

Need to catch up? Prologue: "It's Over"

Chapter Song Inspo: "Meant to Live" by Switchfoot

Series Song Inspo: "Changed by You" by Between the Trees

Pairings: Drake Walker x OC (Margot Hughes); Liam Rys x Riley Brooks

Series Warning: 🛑 for mature audiences only (🔞); series contains angst, language, NSFW🍋 material; trigger warning: heavy discussion/depiction of drug and alcohol abuse, suicide, religion, mental health; please be advised and exercise discretion

A/N: When I say that this took a village, it would be the understatement of the century! Huuuuuuuuge thank you to all of my amazing sweet writing sisters that encouraged me and helped me pull this together, but especially to @charlotteg234 for brainstorming and mapping this out with me, @kat-tia801 for doing the same, but then having to deal with me incessantly asking, "Does this sound right?" and @chemist-ana FOR GIFITNG ME MY FREAKING AMAZING MOODBOARD! It's SO beautiful, and it literally puts me in the mood to write about my Druggy Drake and Margot! Thank you so, so much, friend! Most of the characters and some of the plot belong to our friends at Pixelberry.

A palpable crackle ignites the sterile air of the staff locker room. To say she was ‘nervous’ is a painfully severe understatement to the jitters that spark from her fingertips. But, rather than dance chaotically like cut wires on pavement, she is lightning, mesmerizing, lighting up the sky with excitement and power.

***

Dressing for another Monday morning at her weekly volunteer job at the prestigious Cordonia Family OB/GYN, Margot Hughes swiftly shimmies a monogrammed ceil blue scrub top down her curves. Pulling her brilliant strands of autumn harvest into a high bun, she slips on her work clogs while nudging her locker closed with her knee.

Before leaving the changing area, she catches her visage in the mirror, the unflattering fluorescent lights casting more shadows onto her worried features. She can feel the rumble of her rapid heartbeat echoing in her ears; her chest constricts tightly as her breathing becomes shallow. Her eyes begin to sting with fear as the whites burn red, threatening with a glaze of tears.

Today is the day her entire life will change; everything she has ever wanted, everything that she has ever worked for will suddenly determine the course of her future in a single moment. Seeing the all-too-familiar terror in her eyes, Margot flutters her eyelids shut. Her fingers nervously trace along a simple chain around her neck until they finally grasp tightly to a dainty sterling silver charm: a cross.

“Take my anxieties, Lord,” she whispers with prayerful conviction, her sparkling blue eyes gracefully opening to look at her necklace. She exhales deeply. “Your will be done.” Margot stares at her reflection for a few more moments, focusing on her breathing to calm her restless heart. “You are strong, Margot. You've got this,” she affirms herself in a hushed tone, a bright smile breaking across her face. “This is your day--" suddenly overwhelmed with peace, a joyous smile paints across her face. Chuckling to herself, she glances upwards: “I'm counting on You.” Taking a deep cleansing breath, she eagerly exits the stillness of her thoughts, and joins the bustle of the morning's clinic appointments. Today is her day.

***

Halos of blurred auras bleach his vision as Drake cautiously opens one blood-shot eye. His tongue sticks to the roof of his roughly parched mouth as he massages his pained forehead. Clueless of what day it is--much less what he did last night--he is greeted with a sudden glorious sensation: a supple wet mouth on his hardened morning length.

His body relaxes back onto the dampened, disheveled sheets of his bed; he releases a pleasurable exhale as he blindly reaches for the head behind the lips. He strains to focus his view, but can only make out a foggy shape of a nude woman with long, tousled brunette waves.

It’s her. His love.

Drake smiles; delicately tangling his grip in her strands, he admires how even the afternoon sun catches her beauty perfectly. He quietly smacks his lips. He can still smell her on his stubble; he can still taste her on his tongue.

Had she told Liam? Were they celebrating that they could finally be together?

As she takes in the head of his girth, he arches his back, relaxing his body into her hungry touch. Closing his eyes, he offers a guttural groan deep in his chest as she swirls her tongue around his firm thickness.

“God, you’re incredible, Riley--”

---

Pulling out a pen, Margot reaches across the counter to grab a patient’s clipboard--that is until Iris, the front desk manager grips her long, manicured nails to the other side of the particle wood. “Miss Mary-Margaret,” she leans in conspiratorially, lowering her voice, “do we know anything yet?” Margot chuckles, shaking her head. “Child, you better come find me the moment you know!”

“Only if you promise to start calling me ‘Margot’” the young blonde jests, opening her client’s chart.

“How about I start calling you what we’ll all be calling you in just a few short years: ‘doctor’?” Rosy pink swirls splash across Margot’s face, warming her cheeks to the touch. She bows her head coyly at the mention of her dream becoming a reality. The thought that she will soon find out if a medical career is in her future makes the twenty-one-year-old’s heart leap with unbridled excitement.

For as long as she can remember, Margot has had a strong desire to serve and help other people. Much of that selfless attitude was instilled into her heart by her own parents. They were called to be Christian missionaries when Margot was only eight years old. After much planning, church fund-raising, and prayer, Roy and Mary Hughes left their comfortable home of Lafayette, Louisiana, and settled in the small Mediterranean country of Cordonia.

Many of their friends and family were shocked that the church would send them to such a beautiful area of the world. Typically missionaries humble themselves to serve the needy, the homeless, the lonely and the sick. They sacrifice the luxuries of home for the sake of loving humanity. They help people in war-torn countries, third-world countries, countries that don’t have electricity or running water. But, this country?

Cordonia itself is a lavish nation, rich in heritage and traditions. And funds. Thanks to the ideal weather conditions, the fruitful soil produces bountiful harvests and exquisite supplies for fine textiles that remain in high demand throughout the world. The Cordonian government, a monarchy, discovered a new opportunity to expand their wealth in the late 19th century: costly tariffs to international investors. Within the first ten years of increasing the taxes on exports, the national treasury was not only in the black, but their funds had exponentially increased every year. Farms were flourishing as the working class became larger, stronger.

But, the treasury began to dwindle quickly due to the extravagant demands of the royals. For the first time in the country's history, commoners were wealthier than some of the nobility. Disdain from the upper class quickly ensued until finally, in the early 20th century under the rule of William I, a new tax law was implemented to all of Cordonia: anyone involved with international exchange would have to pay into the treasury to handle such business.

Unfortunately, there were no limitations to this new tax law, and many farms floundered, property ownership being seized by the government. Families were uprooted; jobs were lost, and worse, assets were sold for even more money, filling the pockets of the greedy leaders. The people that once had a plethora of goods at their fingertips were now starving and unsheltered. And vengeful. The Cordonians were outraged by the gouging, many of them forming violent riots, banding together with outside influencers in hopes of overthrowing the government.

On the cusp of a civil war, King William I decided to rezone the country, providing a place for the displaced working class to claim safety and sanctuary, a place that would offer shelter, education, and more affordable options for goods. To appease the people even more, he named the project ‘the Core,’ paying homage to their greatest export, the Cordonian Ruby. It was also a way for him to forever express his gratitude for such a fruitful nation: they were the core reason the nation was thriving so richly.

Like many government-assisted programs, it didn’t take long for the cracks to show in the infrastructure. And with funding cuts over the years, the Core began to crumble, striking a sharp contrast from the rest of Cordonia. The Core, now often referred to as ‘the slums’, have become a breeding ground for crime, drugs, and prostitution. It is the blemish of Cordonia, its existence often not acknowledged amongst the elite.

But, according to the Hughes, ‘God saw the need’. They were sent to serve in the slums of Cordonia, starting up several free programs, including a nightly soup kitchen, afterschool programs to keep children out of trouble, and trade classes to help adults out of poverty. The people accepted the help and adapted quickly to the missionaries; but even more importantly, they embraced these Americans as their own, many of them forming important and lasting relationships with the Hughes.

But, still there was something missing, something that burdened the missionary’s oldest daughter: healthcare. Having good health and access to a doctor is still treated as a privilege in Cordonia, and time and time again, the curable were disabled or buried. A change needed to take place. And Margot, although unsure of how, knew she would devote her life in making it happen for the Cordonian people.

As she makes a few notes on her clipboard, an olive-complected arm stealthily reaches around Margot, gracefully grazing her sun-kissed skin before gently placing a cup of piping hot black coffee in front of her. Staring at the hand, she instantly knows who it is. And she titters, playfully rolling her eyes. “Tadd! Another coffee?” She grabs the coffee, twirling on the ball of her foot to face the clinic’s young ultrasound technician. "My tab must be over a hundred euros by now!"

"Oh, don't you worry about that," he chuckles, rocking on his feet. “Plus, I figured with your new gig at Bríki--” he jovially shrugs his shoulders.

“You figured what?” Margot playfully punches his shoulder. “That I could sneak you free coffee?” She gives a mischievous smile, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t think Mr. Pavlis would appreciate me offering free drinks, especially since I haven’t even started yet--”

“That’s right!” Tadd eyes widen. “Today’s the day--!”

“As if I didn’t already have enough to be nervous about today,” Margot’s voice becomes shaky, as she clenches her teeth in a forced smile.

“Hey,” Tadd’s voice turns into an endearing whisper. He shifts his head until his piercing jade eyes meet Margot’s baby blues. “You have nothing to worry about. We both know you did well on that American doctor test--"

"The MCAT," Margot stifles a laugh, rolling her eyes into an appreciative grin.

"Whatever," a crooked smile grows across Tadd's handsome features. "And as far as the coffee shop, you're a fast learner. And a hard worker. Plus, if they see what we all see in you--" he sighs, his gaze never breaking free from hers, "-- they're going to love you."

Margot looks down at her feet, hugging her clipboard tightly to her chest. Feeling her palms begin to sweat, she coyly looks back up at her dear friend. "Thanks, Tadd."

After a few silent moments of staring at each other, Tadd clears his throat. "So, um--" he starts, "have you heard anything yet? About the test?" Tadd changes the subject. Margot shakes her head as she takes a pull from her coffee. "Well, when you do, um, maybe we could, I mean, I thought we could--"

Suddenly an intercom buzzes overhead. "Thaddeus to exam room four. Thaddeus to exam room four."

Tadd furrows his eyebrows, looking to the ceiling before resting a kind half-smile back on Margot. "Duty calls," he nervously sighs as he bounds down the hallway. Halfway down the corridor, he spins around to face Margot. "Hey, um, come find me! Before you leave at noon!" He finger-guns the air before returning to his pursuit.

Margot awkwardly finger-guns him back before smacking her forehead with the palm of her hand. "Seriously, Margot?" she mutters to herself, turning her attention back to the central desk of the clinic; however, she realizes quickly that the attention is all on her.

"When are you two going to make it official, Miss Mary-Margaret?" Iris chokes in the midst of her belly laughs, nodding with other scrub-adorned coworkers.

Biting her bottom lip feeling her heart flutter, Margot straightens out her demeanor, becoming stoic. "I--I don't know what you're talking about--"

"Margot, isn't it obvious?" Chimes in a jolly intake nurse. "That boy loves you--!"

"Who? Tadd?" Margot feigns innocence. She fixes her attention to the chart as she scribbles down more notes. "It's not like that--I mean, we're not, um--" she sighs. "We're just friends--" An instant roar of laughter abrupts from the reception desk, making it impossible for Margot to hide her toothy-smile paired with her scrunched up nose.

"You say that now, baby girl--"

"That's right," chimes in another giggling co-worker, "friends for now!"

An older plump nurse places a tender hand on Margot’s hand, a knowing smile spreading across her face. "Some of the best relationships come from friendships, moró. Give it time. Let the love grow," she winks at Margot.

Margot fidgets with her pen, delicately licking her bottom lip. She then tries to form words with her mouth, but no sound is heard. Her pink cheeks reveal she is flustered. She quickly closes up the chart, pushing loose hairs behind her ear. "Have a good day, ladies."

Hearing the squeals of her coworkers diminishing behind her, Margot quickly escapes into an empty exam room. Closing the door behind her, she leans against it, looking up at the textured ceiling tiles. She can feel the butterflies in her stomach bouncing through to her heart as her legs wiggle with weakness like gelatin.

The idea of 'falling in love' excites Margot, an idea she has dreamed about ever since she saw Baby meet Johnny. But, so far in her young life, she has never experienced it first hand, let alone a romantic hand- hold. Was this love? All she knew for sure was today was not the day to figure it out.

***

As soon as Riley’s name escapes his breathless moans of ecstasy, a searing sharp pain instantly ignites around his hardened girth. And Drake sees red.

"Fuck!" He lets out a guttural roar until no sound comes out of his mouth. He gnashes his teeth, trying to breathe through the agony, but only froths at the corners of his lips. The veins in his neck and his forehead protrude violently as streams of tears roll down his face. Petrified to move, his face turns a deep ruddy color. Before turning violet.

A sudden sensation of relief washes over him as the stabbing sensation fades to throbbing. Drake nervously looks down at his softening cock, relieved to see his member in one piece. "Goddamnit, Brooks," he pants furiously, "you fucking bit me--"

The brunette quickly tosses her curls out of her eyesight right before her fist meets Drake's jaw. "Oh, shit!" The cracking of the joints in his face echoes around the room. Drake starts to gently massage his chin. "You're not Riley--"

She climbs off of his body, standing her naked body in front of him. "No shit, Sherlock!" She slinks her short black spaghetti-strap dress over her dangerous curves before hastily grabbing her clear platform heels and racing out the door. "Fuck you, Drake Walker!"

***

A heartless, cocky laugh pours over the phone speaker. "Shit, Walker. Just--" the baritone voice trails back into a fit of laughter.

"It's not funny, Leo--" Drake warns, accidentally shifting his weight in bed, stirring a soreness to his recent injuries. "Ow!” he sucks air quickly between his gritted teeth, “fuck!" he whimpers to himself, adjusting the cold packs on his genitals.

"But you actually called her a different name, bro. A different name! With her mouth on your salami, your pocket rocket, on your--on your anaconda--" Leo's words fade back into cackles.

"As if you remember every goddamn hook-up’s name--"

"Dude," Leo interrupts, "if she's going to go all hungry, hungry hippo mid-blowie, I'm going to remember her name."

Drake scoffs. "Bullshit--"

"What? I'm serious, bro" Leo's voice becomes sincere. "All of these bitches we meet are looking for one thing--" he pauses dramatically for his wounded friend to finish his sentence; but the silence proves Drake is clueless as to where Leo was going with this. "A connection, Walker!" Leo's voice drips with conviction. "These women don't want to feel like they're disposable, even though--" he chuckles to himself, “let’s be honest: we’re doing them a favor--”

"--’A connection’, Leo" Drake interrupts, urging the conversation back on track.

"Right! ‘A connection," reaffirms Leo, circling back to his point. "Now, okay,” he knowingly titters, “I can’t remember all of these names--”

“Ha! See?” Drake barks.

“--Which is why--” Leo enunciates over Drake, “I use a single pet name. ‘Girl’.”

"'Girl'? That’s your trick? You call them 'girl'?" Drake raises an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Hear me out,” Leo continues. “If you call them something like ‘baby’ or ‘sweetie’, it can be seen as patronizing, that you’re clearly looking to smooth-talk your way into their pants--” Drake rolls his eyes, moving the phone to his other ear “--but now, calling them ‘girl’, I’m showing I want to be a friend, that I just simply want to connect. And then when you’re having your way with her, call her whatever the fuck you want as long as you finish the name with ‘girl’. Good girl. Dirty girl. Naughty girl. Sweet girl. Or in your case, hungry girl--”

Drake clears his throat, stifling a laugh. “--That is the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard--”

“Hey!” Leo interjects. “Who is wearing a bag of frozen peas on his one-eyed trouser snake?”

“Touché,” Drake sighs. “So, where are you right now?”

“With Jason up at his shop.”

“Who?” Drake lets out yawn, looking at his bedside alarm clock.

“Shit, Walker, you really were fucked up last night," Leo sighs. "Jason. You met him last night.” Leo’s voice lowers into a whisper. “He helped you get fucked up last night.”

“Oh! Right, right,” Drake rubs his head, “that was--wow, that shit was--”

“Good, right?” Leo finishes. “Hey, come join us at his shop. We’ve got coffee, and he’s got some new, um, product he’d love to show you--”

“Oh, Leo, I don’t know--” Drake removes the melting bag of vegetables from his lap. Gently lifting up on the waistband of his boxers, carefully inspecting his bruised parts.

“Does Liam have you working today?”

“No, no, it’s not that--” Drake hesitates.

“Oh!” Leo knowingly exclaims. “Does Riley have you working today?” He begins to chuckle. “You might need to let her know that you’re currently indisposed for --”

“Leo--” Drake warns.

“Then what's the hold up?"

Drake glances over at the mirror affixed to his antique dresser, but he doesn't recognize his own reflection. There's an emptiness in eyes, an inexplicable turmoil overcoming the man he once was. How did everything get so complicated? How did he get to such a place that it's better to be absent in life than to live it?

She was just a friend--at least that's what he convinced himself when Riley Brooks first caught his eye. Beautiful. Extremely witty with a fight he had never seen before. When they first kissed, he swore it was a mistake. Hormones. It had been so long since he had touched the delicate petals of a woman's lips.

But, this wasn't just any woman. It was her. And he soon would find himself wrapped up in her bedsheets, wrapped around her finger, wrapped in an awful web of lies.

And, all of his transgressions were against him, his very best friend, the man he regards as closer than a brother, his closest ally and confidant. Normally, Drake would turn to Liam in a heartbeat with any troubles, but this? How could he? How could he talk to Liam about his own devastation when the truth would devastate Liam?

It's been four days since that fateful night of Liam's coronation, four days since the love of Drake's life walked away from him, forcing his hand into harboring secrets from the crowned prince. It's been four days since Drake heard his own voice in his head, four days since he's been sober enough to even think. Even though he deemed the temporary escape necessary, the sudden twinge of discomfort in his groin makes him realize that taking another hit right now is the absolute last thing he needs.

"I think I better stay put," Drake answers, combing his fingers through his disheveled tresses.

"Suit yourself," Leo jovially retorts. "If you need any oxy for your boo-boo, hit me up--Oh, and Drake?"

“Hrmmm?”

"Her name is Whitney."

"What?"

"Jaws? You know, the bitch who chewed on your Moby Dick?" Drake sighs heavily, regretting that he ever told Leo what had happened. "Her name is Whitney."

Drake furrows his eyebrows. "Now, how do you remember her name--?"

"Oh, bro, you don't forget WAP Whitney--oh shit, you probably haven't gotten a good look at your sheets this morning, have you?"

With a grunt, Drake ends the call. “Fuck me,” he mutters under his breath. He carefully gets up, waddling to grab his clothes before heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

In the middle of splashing his face with cold, soapy water, Drake's phone rings. Grabbing a hand towel he carefully saunters back to his room, answering the call without hesitation. "Just let it go, Leo--”

"Drake?"

An icy chill shoots down Drake’s spine, freezing him in his steps. He knows that melodic voice anywhere, a voice that reminds him of early morning sunrises and late night silver moonlit paths. “H-hey, Riley,” he stutters, caught off guard. A brief awkward stillness falls over the conversation. “How are you--?”

“I miss you, Drake,” she interrupts.

Drake’s vision suddenly begins to spin as the air in the room becomes stagnant. Stiffening his bottom lip in anger, his breathing quickens as he reaches out carefully to brace himself against the wall.

“Drake?”

“I’m here,” he chokes out. “What do you want, Brooks?” He can hear the tears in her voice, but he wills himself not to care, he wills himself to not even ask.

“Drake, I think I made a mistake--”

“No,” Drake barks out, “no, you can’t do this to me--”

“Drake, please,” Riley sobs, “I’m on my way to the doctor--”

“The doctor?” Drake’s tone suddenly changes. “Are you okay? Is everything with--um, you know--” he slaps his forehead with the palm of his hand, “--okay?”

“Yes--” she sniffles, “--no. I just, I can’t do this alone, Drake. I can’t do this--”

“Riley--” he roughly says her name to grab her attention, “you made your decision: you chose Liam. You want to raise our baby--my baby with him--”

“Don’t you think I want to have this baby with you? That’s all I can even think about Drake,” she takes a moment to calm down her shaking voice. “I love you, Drake. I want a life with you. I want you to be there when this baby is born, when this baby needs his or her father--when this baby needs you--”

“Riley--” Drake exhales with frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose, “--but Liam--”

“I know, Drake. I know--” Riley takes a deep breath, “Can we just talk? In person? Just so we can figure this out? I can come over there--”

“Brooks, I--” Drake stumbles over his words as he runs his fingers over his coarse, overgrown stubble. Of course, he wants her to come over. And to stay. But, has anything changed? Liam just proposed, and she made it clear what her intentions were. But, still, it’s possible she had a change of heart, and this was a second chance he may never get again. He sighs heavily. “Sure. Okay."

After finishing his impromptu conversation with Riley, Drake realizes he needs to make another phone call. He scrolls through his call history, and clicks the green send button.

"Did you change your mind, Evander Holyfield?"

"Funny, Leo," Drake sarcastically responds. "So, yeah, um, what's the address to the shop?"

***

“Does that--does that say what I think it says?” Margot nervously stammers. "I think I saw my score--oh gosh!"

“Here. Let me look--”

Margot quickly covers the computer screen with her hands, "No, Mrs. Iris!” Margot squeals. “I’m not ready--I’m not ready for this!”

“Child, you have been ready for this for months. Now, if you don’t get your hands out of the way--"

"What's with all the commotion?" A few technicians and nurses pile into the room, each giving an endearing rub to Margot’s back. Everyone begins craning their necks to see the computer, covered by Margot's arms. "Is it time? Have they posted the scores?"

"They sure have!" answers Iris before turning to Margot. She tucks several blonde wisps behind Margot’s ear before putting her finger under her chin. "C'mon, baby," she smiles encouragingly, "it's more fun celebrating than worrying."

"I'm--" Margot takes a deep breath, biting back her tears, "--I'm so scared--"

"--and the Lord knew you would be, baby." Iris wrinkles her nose at Margot, her voice becoming stronger. "That's why He called you to be courageous. C'mon."

Margot bites her lip, slowly nodding her head. Feeling the storm brew in her eyes as the weight of the world sits on her chest, she carefully peels back her hands. Her eyes scale the black and white on the screen, but nothing seems to make sense. A burst of silence overwhelms her hearing, time standing perfectly still. Her only company is the beating of her heart.

Take my anxieties...

You have nothing to worry about…

Your will be done…

Be courageous...

Like suddenly breaking through the surface for air, an abrupt roar of cheers fill the room, shaking Margot from her trance. "Our baby girl got a 519!" screams a tearful Iris, pulling Margot from her seat and into a tight embrace. Other coworkers join in, creating a giant group hug.

Margot remains speechless, shocked by her score. She always knew she was an excellent student, studying hard all through school and excelling in her classes. When it came to the MCAT, she was confident she would score better than average, a score of 500. But, to even be noticed by top medical schools, she needed to score in the top 5%, a score 517 or greater.

News swept like wildfire through the clinic, and shortly thereafter, Tadd and some other technicians filed into the breakroom with a decorative chocolate cake and punch in tow. "I knew you could do it!" Tadd cheers victoriously, offering a chaste hug to Margot. "Dr. Hughes," he swipes his hand in the air as if to paint an imaginary portrait. "It has a nice ring to it."

"I still don't understand why you put yourself through all of that," mentions an older phlebotomist. "Cordonia has a medical school right down the road--"

"Because Margot wants to go to one of the best medical schools in the world," interrupts a deeply demanding, yet sincere voice. “To Harvard. Like me.”

"Dr. Ramirez," Margot smiles brightly, jumping up to greet her mentor with a hug.

"That is, you are still looking at my alma mater for medical school--"

"Yes ma'am!" Margot's eyes light up with the thought that her dream of going to Harvard Medical School is becoming her reality. "It would be such an honor to go there, let alone to follow in your footsteps."

Dr. Ramirez pulls Margot in for another tight hug. "My word, Mary-Margaret, 519?" she presses her cheek to Margot's, "I am so proud of you."

"Thank you, Dr. Ramirez," Margot warmly responds, "thank you for taking a chance on me and helping me so much with my studies and research--"

"You know I did that for selfish reasons, right?" The practitioner stifles a smile while Margot squints her eyes with suspicion. "Cordonia needs more female physicians, and more importantly, physicians that will make a difference in its healthcare," she grips tightly to Margot’s hand, "for everyone. I believe you will lead this country in a health care reformation."

"I don't know what to say," Margot clears her throat as she fights back the tears. "I hope I make you proud--"

"You already do." Dr. Ramirez gently touches Margot's cheek lovingly before turning to exit the room.

"Oh!" Margot quickly chases after the obstetrician, “can I talk to you? Privately?” With a nod, Dr. Ramirez leads Margot into a quiet corner. “I know my work-study ends in two weeks--”

“I know. Don’t remind me, Margot--”

“Well, I was wondering,” Margot chews on the side of her mouth, fidgeting with her fingers, “if by any chance I could possibly stay on?”

“Oh, Margot, I wish I could. Unfortunately with budget cuts--”

Margot shakes her head. “No, no, Dr. Ramirez, I meant if I could stay on, shadowing my usual Monday and Thursday mornings, I mean, if that’s alright. Learn more? Keep up my skills?”

“You want to continue volunteering with us?” The doctor gives an inquisitive look. “Don’t you want to get a job to earn money before you move to the states next year?”

“I already got that covered,” Margot assuredly answers. “I just got a job at Bríki, the coffee shop past the square--”

“Oh my gosh,” Dr. Ramirez’s eyes light up. “Does Aleksi still own that place?”

“Mr. Pavlis? Yes! Him and his son run it together, I believe--”

“They have the best coffee,” she energetically smiles, “now I have another reason to stop by.” She kindly places her hand on Margot’s shoulder. “Of course, you can stay on as a volunteer. Whenever you want, however much you want. It is a pleasure to have you around.” With a squeeze of her arm, Dr. Ramirez turns to go to her next appointment, but stops halfway down the hall. “Oh, Margot? My nurse stepped away to make an important phone call. Do you mind escorting my next patient to the exam room?”

Margot dutifully nods with a grin. She twirls around, bounding for the front desk to grab the chart of Dr. Ramirez’s next patient, a new patient. After making a few small notes, Margot opens the door to call her back.

“Brooks? Riley Brooks?”

*****

Tags: (this is my original tag list for this series; if you wanted to be added or removed, please let me know!) @alyssalauren @ao719 @bbrandy2002 @burnsoslow @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @choiceskatie @forallthatitsworth @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovingchoices14 @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @mainstreetreader @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @sweatyrysconnoisseur @taniasethi @tessa-liam @texaskitten30 @thefrenchiemama @thegreentwin @twinkleallnight @yourmajesty09

[the-darkness-does-not-bargain]

Big God, part 2

Part 1

WARNING: This chapter contains graphic depictions of violence and bodily injury, as well as mention of suicidal thoughts.  Please be advised.

This is part 2 of my Catradora Superhero AU angst fic.  Please enjoy the misery!

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17638580/chapters/41745818

Part 2: Let Go

Six months later

Catra could honestly kiss Entrapta if she didn’t have a girl at home.  That little genius has finally given her exactly what she needs to get what she’s wanted for years.  She can’t help but laugh, just a little, as she cracks her newly improved titanium fists against She-Ra’s face.  She watches with spiteful glee as the other woman flies backward several feet, hitting the gravel rooftop with a pained groan, blood gushing from her freshly broken nose.  She’s already soaked from a dozen or more weeping lacerations scattered across her body, and Catra hasn’t broken a sweat yet.

It took six months of experimentation, six months of 2am fire alarms, and six months of hard-earned income to accomplish, but she finally has the weapon that will dispose of this sword-swinging bitch once and for all.

And what a nifty weapon it is, she thinks as She-Ra struggles to even stand. A funky little virus of Entrapta’s own design, made-to-order, transmitted through a single simple injection. The scientist had described like a computer bug that wreaked havoc on the mainframe and screwed the entire system, She-Ra’s body in this case.

“So it will disable her powers?”

“Not exactly, but it will make them weaker to a statistically significant degree!  And it will dramatically delay the onset of her incredible healing factor!  Oh, speaking of, is there any chance you can grab me a sample from her?  For curiosity’s sake.”

Catra doesn’t know or care about all the specifics. But she does know the virus works beautifully.  She bets the oh-so-mighty hero isn’t feeling so cocky now, when she can barely stay up let alone avoid Catra’s vicious attacks.

“I gotta say, girl, you don’t look so good,” she taunts, affecting fake concern as she lazily strolls forward.  She-Ra throws a punch, or tries to.  She’s much slower now.  Surely on a different day her attack would be picture-perfect, but tonight Catra dodges the blow with ease and catches the wrist that flies past her face. She twists it harshly while her other hand strikes at the hero’s vulnerable elbow.  It gives way with a wet crack and a scream.  It’s very satisfying.  A jet-boosted shin kick to the stomach makes the bitch double over and fall to her knees, wheezing.  It’s delightful, really.

Catra tuts, lets go of her arm, and steps behind her, grabbing her by the chin hard enough to drive freshly sharpened claws into her cheeks.  “You’re way off your game.  Punching is, like, the one thing you’re good at, or so I thought.”  She-Ra struggles, pulling at Catra’s hand with her good arm, but only succeeds at pulling the talons further down her face.  “Have you always been this weak underneath the stupid tiara and the butchy chest plate? Have I really been punching down this whole time?  I don’t think I even need this suit to finish you!”  She puts both of her hands on the defenseless back of her greatest enemy, lets them rest there for a single savory moment before she shreds clean through white fabric and flesh and muscle, repeatedly, deeper and deeper each time until she can feel bone just a few centimeters beneath her fingertips. There’s no scream this time, which is a little disappointing, but she’ll imagine the pain is just too much to be vocalized.  Her fingers drip sweet crimson when she pulls them out.  Hmm, maybe she’ll take some of it back for Entrapta’s “sample”.

“T… Tigress… please…”

Catra’s ears perk up.  “What was that?”  She-Ra doesn’t answer, only pants roughly.  “Hey. Hey!” She says, stepping back to the front and bending down to force the other woman’s head up, smearing more blood on her cheeks in the process.  “What did you say?”

“Tigress…”

“Are you begging me?”  She can’t help but laugh.  This is all just so… dramatique.  They’re even right near the edge of the rooftop with the sunset and city lights twinkling in the background.  You could make a comic cover out of this.

“You don’t want to do this…”

She scoffs.  “Oh honey, please, I definitely want to do this.  You have no idea how much.  But please, make it even sweeter for me!  What’s next?  Are you gonna tell me you have a wife and kid at home?  Are you two days from retirement?  Or are you gonna give me those sad blue eyes and tell me how I’ll never be able to come back from this, that my soul will never clean again if I commit this black deed ooooooooo?  

“Seriously though, come on… we both know how this is gonna end, princess.  Now, you don’t have to die with dignity but for your sake I’d hope you at least try.”  She lets the woman’s chin drop from her hand and straightens up, crossing her arms over her chest.  “If you say something cool, I’ll tell people it was your last words.”

She waits, but her victim now seems resigned to silence. “Nothing?”  Nothing.  She shrugs, raises a hand to make the killing blow.  “Your choice.”

The blare of a siren and the powpow, bratatat of gunfire catches her off guard.  She’d let herself get caught up in the moment, but the bullets pinging against her armor pull her back to the suddenly much less awesome reality of the situation.  She turns, hissing, to peer over the edge of the roof facing the street below.  Ugh, there must be 15 cops down there, and 6 more on top of the building across the road, all of them taking shots at her.  Bastards, this paint job wasn’t cheap, ya know?

When she turns away from the distraction, She-Ra has vanished.  There’s nothing but blood and tatters of ruined white cloth where she had been kneeling. Catra frowns and peers over the other edge, one that overlooks a dank, empty alleyway.  She can see more blood on the asphalt, but her prey is gone.

 Catra strolls down the sidewalk toward her and Adora’s apartment, hands in the pockets of her dark pinstripe pants and a smirk practically etched onto her face.  Last minute interruption aside, tonight had been very pleasurable for her, and she knows it’s going to get even better.  The night is cool, and the air feels softs as a kiss on her skin.  She walks up through the front entrance, nodding cheerfully to the doorman before heading to the elevator.  While she watches the floor number rise and rise, she fingers the little velvet box tucked safely in her pocket, an important purchase made earlier in the day.  Tonight is about to get so much better.  

She checks her watch.  Adora’s last class should have ended a few hours ago, and she should already be home.  She hasn’t answered her phone, but Catra isn’t worried.  She’s been with Adora long enough to know no one in the world forgets to answer their texts as often as her girlfriend.

Their floor is quiet when she steps out of the elevator.  Most of their neighbors either go out on nights like this or never leave, so she hardly ever sees them at this hour.  Unexpectedly, hers and Adora’s door is locked, but she fishes out her keys and gets it open with ease.

It’s dark inside, no lights save for the one in the kitchen.  Weird… She wonders if Adora started having head pain and needed things to be less bright.  They’re infrequent, but Adora overworks a lot and is prone to stress headaches when she does.  I’ll make her some of that weird tea she likes, Catra thinks, nodding to herself.  

“Adora?”  She steps inside and shuts the door behind her.  No response.  She frowns. She’s about to turn on the living room light when she hears the window break.  She stills, her hand slowly pulling back from the light switch as she turns her body soundlessly.  The breaking sound seemed to come from the window opposite the kitchen, near their bedroom door.  She takes a single, silent step forward, trying to get a better view without giving her position away.  Her hands clench and unclench, and she lowers into a more predatory stance.  If she gets to beat down a burglar in her home tonight, it might almost make up for not getting She-Ra.

She hears a thud and a clatter, followed by a pained whine.  She freezes in place, still hidden in the shadows, waiting, when…

There, in front of her, red-stained hands grabbing clumsily for the edge of the dining table, is She-Ra.  Her face is still a wreck from their fight.  In fact, it seems that Entrapta’s virus worked even better than expected, because She-Ra doesn’t look healed at all.  Her broken nose and cut cheeks are still sluggishly bleeding, as are the wounds on her back and sides.  Her legs are dirty and covered in scrapes, and her left arm is cradled against her chest, unmoving.  She tries to pull herself up, only to accidentally upend the table and send it crashing to the floor.  She-Ra hits the floor right after it, crying out and curling up on her side, clutching her broken arm with tears streaming down her face, mixing with the blood and dirt and sweat.

But why is she…?  How is she here?  She doesn’t… she’s no…

Catra’s jaw drops, her throat constricts.  It feels like she’s being strangled; she can’t seem to take in any air.  Her hands are shaking.  She digs her nails into her palms but it does nothing.  This can’t be real.  Itcan’tItcan’tItcan’t…  There’s no way.  She… she would have known, wouldn’t she?  She would have seen the signs, clues everywhere, she would’ve…

This isn’t happening.  It’s not. She-Ra isn’t… Adora isn’t… no… nonononononononONO!

But the ethereal glow is fading from She-Ra’s skin, and her features are softening into a face that is intimately familiar.  And Catra wants to rip her own heart out; surely that would be less painful than what she feels right now.  Surely there can’t be anything worse than this.

She doesn’t know that she’s moving at first. It isn’t until the floor creaks beneath her feet that she realizes she is walking forward.  Blue eyes, She-Ra’s eyes, Adora’s eyes, snap up to meet hers.  They are terrified.  Catra could throw herself out the broken window, and at least her death would be fast. Anything would be better than this.

“C-Catra?” Adora’s voice is rough from crying, tremulous. Catra can’t do anything else but step fully into the light of kitchen, letting it illuminate her stunned face. And still, even through the pain of her torn up face, Adora smiles, her relief evident.  She relaxes on the floor, reaching with her good hand outward to her girlfriend.  “Catra…” She coughs roughly and her next breath is gurgling.  Can she not breathe properly?  Catra doesn’t remember breaking any of her ribs… Could the fall have…  “Catra,” Adora repeats.  “Babe, I’d love a little help here…”

She helps her.  Adora’s face rests against her neck as Catra embraces her with trembling arms, helping her sit up.  She doesn’t say anything, can’t, but her love doesn’t seem to mind.  It’s a struggle to move over to the sofa.  Adora is still mostly She-Ra, and her size and density reflect that.  But Catra helps her rest against the edge of the couch.  She winces and turns her body to the side so nothing is pressed against her destroyed back. Catra can see the dark blood as it oozes from the wounds, rolling down her lover’s skin.  It’s sickening.  Hells, she might hurl right on the nice hardwood floor.

Adora is holding her hand, squeezing it, trying to comfort Catra.  Comfort Catra, it’s!  It’s… unconscionable, sadistic!  Her entire life is burning before her eyes and the universe is laughing.

“---think the first aid kit is still on the bottom of the linen closet.”  Adora is talking, but Catra only catches the last sentence.  She swallows, getting up on unsteady feet, and makes her way to the linen closet.

Their first aid kit is big, filled to the brim with every kind of tool, bandage, tape, and antiseptic available; tourniquets and joint braces, heating packs, pliers, tweezers, ACE wrap in six different colors, Scooby Doo band-aids.  Adora had insisted on it when they moved in together.  At the time, Catra had thought it was just so Adora could patch herself up after teaching her classes.  Fucking Eternia’s sake…

Adora’s eyes are closed when Catra returns, and her heart stutters in her chest.  The world starts to collapse in on itself, already scorched and crumbling.  But then those gray-blue eyes open again as she gets closer, and her lover’s expression is apologetic.

“I just wanted to shut my eyes for a minute.  Who knew nearly dying could be so exhausting, eh?” The joke doesn’t so much land flat as land like a knife in the foot.

Catra bears her teeth, grinding them against each other.  Her fist is so tight it might crack the plastic handle on the kit.  “Don’t say something like that.”  Her voice breaks as she finally speaks, and Adora sobers instantly.

“Sorry, love.  I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Catra ignores the apology.  “We need to dress your…” Crippling, life-threatening wounds that I gave you? “…injuries”.

Adora is compliant, saying little else as Catra opens the kit and starts working on the worst of it.  Her fingers still quiver when she presses an alcohol-soaked rag against the cuts and scrapes and sets the broken nose.  Adora winces but makes no sound, even when it’s time to clean her back.  It’s almost too much for Catra.  She tries to focus on breathing normally but feels faint regardless.  There’s so much blood…

Bandages, bandages, she repeats in her head, like a chant.  Don’t look at the muscle peeking through.  Just get the bandages.  Should they go to a hospital?  Can they go to a hospital?  What would that even look like?  Absurd, but… “I can call an ambulance,” she offers, knowing Adora’s response before the words even leave her mouth.

She shakes her head, sighs.  “No, it wouldn’t be worth it,” she says, trying for cheerful unconcern.  “Besides, I think I can feel my healing kicking in.  I’ll be ship-shape in no time!”

Adora doesn’t see it with her back turned away, but Catra is crying.  It’s pathetic, shameful, but the tears roll down her face anyway.  She presses two large sterile pads to Adora’s back and then wraps green bandages around until the area is completely covered.  It’s not enough.  It has to be enough.

The last thing to deal with is the arm.  Adora shivers when Catra touches it.  Catra shivers too, because the limb feels like a sock full of marbles and toothpaste.  She thought she’d only broken it once.  There’s a rudimentary sling included in the kit, not what’s needed but close enough. She’s struggling to put it on correctly when she feels a hand against her cheek.

Adora is smiling at her again as her thumb wipes away tear tracks.  It’s awful. Catra leans into her touch, powerless not to, and meets the woman’s gaze.  Her mouth opens, but the words are hesitant to leave.  Fighting with them is harder than fighting with the arm sling.

“Why… didn’t you tell me?”

Adora looks surprised by the question, but she doesn’t shy away from it like Catra half expects.  “Would you believe me if I told you I don’t really know?”  She sighs heavily and leans her head back against the couch cushion.  “I guess… I just thought… I don’t know what I thought.  I suppose when it started, I didn’t know who I could trust.  Getting fantastical superpowers out of the blue makes you reevaluate a lot of things, your relationships included.  I never told anyone.  And I suppose I didn’t want to put that on you, the burden, the stress, the risk.”  She chuckles sadly and it turns into a breathless cough.  “I wanted to protect you.  Just like I always do, right?  It’s dumb. I know you can handle yourself, but I just couldn’t stop… so I didn’t say anything.”  She blinks back more tears from her red-rimmed eyes.  “I should have known it couldn’t last.”

“No, it couldn’t,” Catra agrees quietly.  After another minute, spent in silence, she finally gets the sling on straight.  Adora takes Catra’s hand and presses her lips to the knuckles.

“Thank you, Catra,” she says.  “You always make this better.”

Catra can’t respond to that, so she makes an excuse instead.  “I’m going to go put the kit away, and I’ll get you some water.”  She piles the contents of the kit back inside haphazardly before leaving the room as quickly as she can without running.  In their little kitchen area, she grips the edge of the counter, her fingers turning white with the effort.  Her mind is racing a thousand miles a second in a dozen different directions.  What is she going to do about this?  What’s she going to tell her people?  She should tell them, shouldn’t she?  Her loyal soldiers, they work so hard for her and she owes them so much… She-Ra is their enemy, the biggest threat to their lives and the business.

The worst thought crosses her mind at that moment. A whisper in a voice that sounds too much like her mother, and its words are black and hateful.  Destroy your enemies wherever they appear, no matter what face they wear.  Kill without mercy, before they kill you.

She could do it.  She knows how.  She… she could make it fast.  No pain, no nothing, she could kill---

Adora… Adora who has always been there, who has never judged her, who has stood by her and loved her through every horrible thing she’s endured for years.  This is Adora, the woman she loves more than anything, than power, money, even her own life for fuck’s sake.

Catra’s knees give way and she slides down to the cold tile floor.  She clutches her stomach and finally gives into to the urge to vomit.  It’s hardly anything, mostly dry heaves; she hasn’t eaten since lunch 9 hours and one lifetime ago.  But with the bile goes that putrid, wretched idea.  It leaves her feeling oddly helpless when it’s gone.

“Catra?”  Adora is calling out for her, sweetly, appallingly innocent.  “Is everything alright?”

Catra’s answer is mechanical.  “Everything is fine.”  Her throat is sore.

At that moment, facing the crippling emptiness of her spirit, she makes a decision.  She doesn’t know if it’s a good decision, or if it will even work, but she makes it.  She can’t think of many other choices.  There’s a bottle of pills in their medicine cupboard, one neither of them has touched in months or more.  She-Ra’s body is still vulnerable, like Adora’s.  It can work, and then she’ll… she’ll…

Figure the rest out later.

She forgoes water, picking apple juice instead, better to mask the taste.  When Adora sees the glass in her hand, she smiles gratefully and drinks it all down without thinking twice.  “Thank you, love,” she says, setting the glass on the coffee table.  Then she takes Catra’s hand again and simply holds it, running her thumb across her fingers.  She laughs softly, still a little breathless.  “You know, you’re taking this a lot better than I think I expected.”

“Mm.”  Catra sits next to the love of her life and waits.  Adora is happy with this, resting her heavy head on her girlfriend’s shoulder, blissfully unaware.

Catra waits.  And when Adora’s soft pants even out, becoming slow and deep, she acts.

[simon-newman]

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

Three movies told the story of a young hero and his friends who went against all odds to destroy the evile empire ruled by the ruthless Sith Lords.

Master Luke Skywalker went a long way from an inexperienced teenager to a wise Jedi Master but one thing remained unchanged - his inner good and compassion that knew no bounds.

He became a beacon of hope for the entire galaxy and a symbol for generations of movie fans.

Much later three prequels were made to tell the story of Luke's father.

Those prequels were not nearly as good but they worked in the way they were supposed to - they told a story, expanded the existing characters and entertained the fans nonetheless.

 But the Dark and Evil empire of Disney is now at large and seeks to destroy what was has shaped two generations.

It's warped vision twists and distorts the galaxy as the Jedi Master Luke Skywalker is nowhere to be found.

Now - after two years - a young Mary Sue managed to find the Jedi Master hoping that he'll restore the balance.

   I guess you can already see where I am going with this review.

 A grumpy, nostalgic oldfag who's unable to let go of the story he grew up with and spits venom on new installment.

You'd be mostly correct. I am a fan of the Star Wars story and unlike many I find certain enjoyment in the prequel trilogy as well.

All six movies have certain magic to them. A magic of telling the story.

Like a good book - the Star Wars movies focus on the story foremost with special effects being only a bonus.

 Hell. I don't want to be disrespectful towards people responsible for other elements like the work of the actors or the awesome music in those movies - it's just not the main selling point for me.

 Yet here I am - after the trainwreck of a movie that The Force Awakens was I still went to see The Last Jedi expecting full well that it's going to suck and I sadly have to say - I was right. Again.

 Now where to start with the latest... Installment... To the franchise?

 Ok. I'll not go the usual way - I shall start in what I can read on the Internet about the movie, then to the movie itself and my own thoughts on the matter.

So... What I can read about The Last Jedi is an interesting matter this time around.

 While TFA was widely considered a masterpiece and people kept freaking masturbating over how good and progressive the movie was TLJ is causing a major split among people.

 From one side we get people who watched this movie and didn't like it - which is not really a minority of reactions.

People didn't like the movie - many people. That or the ones who didn't like it are far more vocal about it than people who did.

 Sadly many of those people still don't see the bigger picture of what is wrong with the so called "New Trilogy" and still consider TFA a masterpiece.

I've even seen people calling for Jar Jar Abrams to be brought back to direct the 9th movie... Please NO!

Jar Jar Abrams is the primary person responsible for us being in this mess in the first place.

Rian Johnson had to work with a setting he was given after Abrams left - which already had the seed of many of the problems people noticed only in The Last Jedi.

 Anyway.

Then there's the other side. I'd call them the Dark Side but I am feeling a weird pressure on my throat... It's starting to get difficult just to breathe in here...

 The Blind Side! I'll call it the blind side!

 The blind side is producing a lot of positive reviews focusing - like with TFA - in how PROGRESSIVE and MODERN the movie is by the choices that were made for the characters and completely disregarding how those choices work as a whole, how they fit into both established universe and the current story.

Hell - those reviews barely even talk of the movie as a whole.

It's like reviewing a Titanic movie and only talking about the ship design and the depiction of sinking.

But there are worse reviews still - One review in particular that I've found tried to justify the choices made by Rian Johnson for Luke Skywalker and the entire Star Wars franchise as a whole.

 The reasoning in that review was...

That the writers are tired of Luke Skywalker and that no story written today can live up to the legacy of George Lucas original.

This is the reason why Rian Johnson had to literally torch everything that was and build anew on top of it.

The review compared the EU to the Jedi Tomes from the movie - a dusty books nobody will ever read and then goes further to compare fans to comic-relief aliens and the entire forty years of legacy to be a meaningless waste of time.

 WOW!

Way to go.

I feel dirty doing it but I'll quote one sentence from TLJ for this one:

"Amazing. Every word of what you just said was wrong."

 For once - if your writer doesn't feel like he can live up to the previously established story - change the writer. The entire EU shows that the legacy can be lived up to.

Two - if you want to build anew why the fucking hell do you take existing material to do so? This sounds like a plan to effortlessly grab some money using the fame gained by other people.

Three - YES go ahead! Insult the fans and those greater who came before you. Their work is meaningless and fans are stupid for liking it - here have something new, why don't you like it? Please like it! The old is bad - buy new!

 <Nostalgia critic video here>

 Sigh...

 I won't say it directly but some of the positive reviews I've found seem... Odd... As if they were not written by people who actually watched the movie or people who were not even interested in the movie itself. It was more a theory of MODERN and PROGRESSIVE moviemaking and why TLJ fits those trends perfectly so it must be a masterpiece.

  Well... On to part two of the review... My experience with the movie...

 First of all I have to admit - I facepalmed a lot less than during TFA.

Maybe I was already prepared for what I was about to see or perhaps the plotholes and stupidity were less evident here.

No - this time around I have other issues with this movie...

Well - ok. Old problems persist as well but I got used to those somewhat.

 For one thing - the movie is like 90 minutes too long. The pacing sucks big time.

We get a grand opening and a grand ending - the thing in the middle is... Slow and boring.

But I'll go into more detail.

The opening is a reenacting of the Empire Strikes Back attack on the Rebel base by the Empire.

 Wait. No. That's not the opening and not my first issue with this fucking movie.

My first issue is an extension of what we've seen in TFA and it begins with the opening crawl.

Basically - the Imperial remnants retreated to the outer rims where they had no infrastructure to work with in the beginning and scarcely any resources or a workforce outside of what they escaped with.

 Over about 20 years they've rebuilt the armada and created a Superweapon larger than the Drath Star (remember the first one that took the galaxy's worth of workforce 20 years to construct?).

Then they shot laser beam from one solar system to another and blew up 5 planets (in one system) which was a "decisive blow" to the Republic.

By the end of TFA the superweapon was blown into oblivion by a lone rebel fighter and the day was saved.

 TLJ picks where TFA left - the Starkiller is destroyed... But the Republic is already gone, Last Order is in charge and they have another Superweapon in the form of an enormous dreadnought serving as Snoke's flagship.

 HOW!? WHEN!? WHO!? WHAT!?

 Let me put all the above into perspective.

It's the year 1945 - WWII ends and the Nazi remnants run away to South America to hide in the countries there - they have no industry, workforce or allies to work with.

Imagine if in 1975 they appeared in Europe with a massive armada of ships, millions of soldiers and a gigantic Laser Canon on the Moon.

They blow up Paris and 5 surrounding cities but someone destroys the Moon Base and the fleet they brought to Europe.

It turns out however that 5 hours later another BIGGER fleet appears at the coast and this time they brought an entire Australa turned into a battleship with them.

At this point Hawaii discovers the Nazis already control both Europe AND United States of America.

 In short - the amount of power the First Order has at it's disposal is ludicrous and the idea that blowing one out of THOUSANDS of solar systems automatically disables all the governments and transfers the power to the First Order is insultingly simplistic.

 Even in the Original Trilogy we learn that only in New  Hope the senate has been disbanded.

Yes - it took the Emperor 20 years to completely seize the power over the Galaxy. You expect me to believe that Snoke did so in 5 minutes? Pfff...

 Ok - back to the lack of plot.

 First battle is an re-enacting of the Empire Strikes Back battle on Hoth (space part) - just more goofy.

Final battle is an reenacting of... the battle of Hoth... Ground part this time.

 Yes - the entire movie is just a big nostalgic fap to the Empire Strikes Back opening scene.

With elements from all the old Star Wars movies up to this point but on that later.

 As for the individual character arcs the movie is separated into three storylines after the beginning and all three are flawed and boring.

 Line 1 - Poe Hotshot.

The mostly dead in TFA ace pilot is getting his own plotline here and... he's just a stock hotshot who disregards rules every fucking time he disagrees with them and faces no consequences for doing so.

I hate such characters with passion as they're insulting every military personnel ever just to appeal to the "young rebel is right" theme.

Not to mention that the command of the Rebels is retarded as well. Knowing they are being tracked and can't escape their grand plan is to... Fly forward full speed as long as they have fuel and hope to reach a conveniently nearby rebel base planet before they run dry.

Maybe split the fleet? Transfer fuel to one vessel? ANYTHING at all? Why do people on board not know what is the plan?

 By not telling anyone and allowing the fear to run rampant you pretty much ask for mutiny at this point.

 Line 2 - Finn the Janitor.

The progressive black Stormtrooper character. O how I despise you.

IMO - he's the biggest insult to POC representations in all the movies.

After TFA painted him as a coward and allowed for small character development here he's... A comic relief and a plot tool. That's all.

A trained-from-child soldier is once again beaten by a girl smaller than him - this time a clumsy mechanic girl with a stun stick. Some trained soldier you are.

 As for the plot tool - he's just there to janitor his way into every piece of First Order spacecraft, perfectly know the design and how to access stuff.

All they need is a pro codebreaker they find in a person of a drunkard they find in the gambling planet's jail.

TBH - Codebreaker drunk portrayed by Benicio del Toro is by far the most charismatic character in this piece of shit of a movie.

 But back on topic - both lines 1 and 2 lead to NOTHING - Poe's mutiny is cut short and Finn fails to disable the tracking device.

In fact - their actions give First Order the intel of nearby Rebel base and fuck everyone over.

Another fun fact - onboard Snoke's flagship BB-8 proves to be the most psychopathic droid in the entire Star Wars so far - wrecking a killcount higher than any other character in the movie.

  Line 3 - Rey... Fuck me sideways Rey and Jake Skywalker.

 I don't even know how to begin here.

My predictions after TFA were correct - Luke Skywalker is gone and a man standing in his place (as Mark Hamill himself stated) is nothing like the original.

Jake Skywalker is a grumpy failure of a man who gave up on the galaxy after one failure.

 That's it - that's all the character of Luke Skywalker accounts to in this movie. A failure for new and better Rey to stomp over and surpass.

And I am not surprised - they had to tarnish the image or Rey would never be able to shine from behind him. Again - not a great choice, just a way to hide creator's own inability to build something worthy of the original.

To add insult to injury the image is once again contradictory.

Luke Skywalker as we see him now is dead set on letting the Jedi legacy die with him and yet he goes extra lengths to preserve the first Jedi temple. What? If he wants it to die shouldn't he be the first one to torch it?

No - Yoda does it. Cause now Force ghosts can call down lightning bolts.

 As for Rey... She's once again learning by herself and when Luke finally agrees to guide her a bit she disregards it and goes against it to show how WRONG the OLD DUDE is.

She TRIES and it works... because trying now works... And Yoda agrees... Whaaaaaaa??? (Yes I made a huge leap here but she was "trying" and Luke didn't correct her immediately, she went against his instructions AND Yoda now supports her over Luke so... You get what I'm saying... I hope)

 And then there's... Soul-link of Rey and Kylo where they speak with each other mentally at random times cause a wizard (Snoke) did it!

Yes - we have Rey and Kylo who hated each other share an intimate moments every Thordamned occasion the scriptwriters had and it's shoved down our throats so that Rey can see good in Kylo... Along with his abs (I know he was jacking off when the link activated and you're not convincing me he didn't!)

 This supports my another theory - that Kylo will be redeemed in the third movie... With the power of vagina no less it seems.

I said bad things about Lines 1 and 2 but Line 3 is even worse than that - it's by far the most boring and insulting part of the movie...

 Sigh...

The Review is 6 pages long and I am not nearly done but I'll cut it short.

 I need to mention that Leia uses the Force in this movie - again without training and any shown guidance (I am getting it out of the way since people are gonna remark I didn't complain about her but I do complain about Rey and for that reason - the bullshit kid pulling the broom at the end! Now everyone can just forcepull without training! Why not!?)

 There is a lot shoved down our throats in this movie.

The moral message - wealth is bad, guns are bad. There is no good side in war. Wealthy people are responsible for animal cruelty. Kids are always innocent and used by adults...

Really? This is what you want to go with in a Star Wars movie?

 Inability to hold a mood in the movie is also prevalent - we get serious situations interrupted by comedy... Or really weird, weird choices.

There's the infamous milking scene (please don't make me elaborate) which was really unnecessary.

And then there's the scene in the initial battle where some girl on the rebel bomber dies to release the bombs (that drop WWII bomber style... Gravity in Space? How does it work?).

The girl is holding a pendant as she dies and it actually left me confused for a bit.

 There was an extreme amount of focus given to that pendant for a previously unknown character...

I was confused - what's that? Is it important? Why is it here? Who is she? Did I miss something? Something in the EA game that's required to understand the movie?

No - the answer is given like 10 minutes later but such a thing should NOT happen.

You should NEVER confuse your viewers with such scenes.

 For example - if a dying person gives a pendant to a friend and that friend later finds the sibling with an identical pendant - that's basically the same motif executed correctly.

Giving the viewers only an extended dramatic eyeful of the pendant without context is BAD.

 I am also insulted by the handling of Rose's character for the movie (who is Rose? You asked a good question - she's Lando replacement but goofy).

She spends a day with a guy who proves to be nothing more than a comic relief and falls in love with him after failed Disney adventure that gets people killed.

In the end she stops his Heroic Sacrifice claiming that they can only win the war with love and not by killing bad guys...

Fucking stu...

 BOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

 That was the sound of the canon Finn was about to stop from firing - it just doomed you all and your allies are going to die! Good work Rose - you're a fantastic hidden agent of the First Order.

 There’s also an surprising amount of paraphrasing of lines from both the Original AND Prequel trilogy. Like no 10 minutes of the movie can go without a recall to the previously existing ones. Write your own fucking lines!

And then Luke Skywalker dies by Force exhaustion.

Cause he has to die in this movie... Oh and Rey is a Jedi already and saves everyone after the Falcon reenacts the Run inside the 2nd Death Star part of the Return of the Jedi.

  That's it.

That's this goddamn movie.

  Good parts?

Music was not so bad - actually quite more memorable than TFA.

I liked the space battles... The parts where Laws of Physics were not being brutally raped.

 I am actually guilty of looking for explanations to some things:

1) Starships can be heard on the surface of the planet if the electromagnetic pulse fro mthem leaving hyperspace is resonating with the atmosphere - causing the sound to be created.

2) A ship going FTL can cause damage to objects on it's way if it exits the hyperspace without slowing down - that's the idea behind the relativity missiles.

 Things I couldn't explain:

1) Imperial Destroyer is visible from the planet's surface and it's the size ot a Death Star from the original movies.

2) Laser beams in space traveling on parabolic trajectory.

3) Bombs being dropped like in planetary bombers - they just fall as if there was gravity.

 I also liked how they poked some fun on the issues people had with TFA - it was cute... As if they were aware of what they did wrong...

Ehh...

  I am done.

The Sequel Trilogy is not salvageable.

 EU is officially canon - at least just for me. Fuck you Disney!

And for all fans of the sequel trilogy angered by what I said I’d like to post a GIF or image of that “Salt” guy from Crait but unfortunately I can’t find any (ok - I got one gif but it’s too big for tumblr). I’ll fix that later.

 EU Luke: “Yoda and Ben were great teachers, yet even they lost students. I can still sense good in him. There’s always hope, Kyle, remember that.”

This is the Luke Skywalker I want to remember - the only one I want to remember.

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The Fosters: My Thoughts on Episode 4x11 "Insult to Injury"

I’m Glad They Found Her:  Callie, your mix of quick thinking and utter lack of it is compelling and terrifying.  Get out of that car, stat.

Stop The Car Right Now:  Not like that.

Have to Get You Checked Out.  Humor Me:  Oh no, Jesus.  This makes me so sad.  It also strikes me every time I rewatch how grateful I am that he has Stef there for him in this way.  I can’t ever forget the way he and Mariana had to spend their first five years, and how they didn’t have their basic needs or medical needs taken care of when they needed it.  I love how Stef doesn’t hesitate to touch Jesus to try and calm him down.

Why Does It Smell Like Gas?  My heart.  This is so awful.  I hate that he is going through this but the acting is on point.  Seriously so good.  Stef being there physically for Jesus is everything - though I have to suspend disbelief a bit to buy that Stef would have no idea what a seizure looks like.  (And as my sis so aptly shouted out last night: THIS IS NO PLACE FOR THE THEME SONG!)

If You’re Polite and You Smile It’s Amazing What You Can Get Away With:  ...and you’re WHITE.  Gotta say it.  White privilege at work here.  Seriously rude Jude and Noah.  That is not your boat.

Jesus, Can You Hear Me?  I’m Right Here:  I love how Stef just keeps reassuring him, and assuming he CAN hear her, even while he continues to seize.  Seriously though, a seizure over two minutes is bad news.  They need to get control of that.  Or push some meds that work.  While I am positive Stef wouldn’t be allowed in the ER with him for any length of time, I do still appreciate her efforts to stay with him.  But once she starts being a distraction to the doctors, she needs to go so they can do their jobs and save Jesus.  (Though these trauma docs need some serious training on correct positioning during a seizure.  He needs to be on his side, and that mask on his face is only going to help him choke or aspirate)

Are You Okay?/No She Isn’t:  THANK YOU, Emma!  Way to use your discretion wisely and let Lena know what’s up with Mariana.

It’s On Me.  It’s All On Me:  Brandon!  Your brother has a head injury.  This is no time to do the wild.

He Was Doing Fine and Then He Had Some Kind of Long Seizure:  Glad they’re doing a CAT scan.  And glad Callie finally knows.  I liked that they showed her reaction to getting that news.

The Assault of Nick Stratos:  Seriously.  Nick Stratos is walking around right now and Jesus isn’t even conscious.  This is a bunch of malarkey.  These cops need to pipe down and realize they need to wait to speak to somebody with a head injury like this.

I’m a Cop, Too, and No One Questions My Son Without Me Being Present:  Yes, Stef!  Insist!

I’m Having You Checked Out By a Doctor:  Thank you, Lena!

Why Is She.../You’ll Have to Ask Her:  And here we have Emma of the fabulous discretion, using it by NOT telling Mat Mariana’s private information.   Love her.

Potato Chips:  Okay but Jude, your brother is in the hospital right now.  (And sorry not sorry but you deserve what you get with that boat’s owner coming back on board.  Serves you right for being such little jerks.)

You Need to Calm Down/You Calm Down!  No!  Ohhh..Jesus is so frustrated that he’s talking back to Stef...  I was glad to see that she didn’t immediately reprimand him (whether it was because of the presence of cops, the fact that he was injured or that Stef recognized this as seriously out of character behavior and could see he was struggling.)

This was the only scene in the episode that gave me serious pause.  (It’s also one of my favorites, though, so…)  With a history of a long seizure like that, and head trauma, I would think doctors would err on the side of caution and have Jesus admitted.  The lights would be way lower, and a nurse or doctor or some kind of medical professional would intervene and insist that questioning would have to wait.  

You can see how much Jesus struggles with processing the questions and the pacing of the conversation.  How he gets frustrated trying to keep up.  I like how this scene really showed Jesus having difficulty with filtering, processing, expressive speech and how he became frustrated due to things being so overwhelming.  Jesus is normally SO aware of police and himself around them, but he has so much else demanding his attention right now. (My sis specified further that the police didn’t allow Jesus enough processing time, and did not ask him simple enough questions.) 

Also, it’s worth noting, I think, to discuss police’s involvement at Nick’s request and on his behalf, while they have no knowledge or interest in Nick’s own history of stalking or threatening Mariana.  And not even the barest amount of courtesy for Jesus, struggling with a brain injury.  Seeing this in the same episode where we see Jude and Noah talking their way onto somebody else’s boat and getting away scot free because they “smile” and are “polite” just hurts extra.  Because kids of color would never get the benefit of the doubt in the same way.

This scene didn’t need to happen at all, though.  Stress like this can CAUSE subsequent seizures.  (Which, I understand, is probably why it was written this way, but to my mind, an over two minute seizure, on top of a punch to the head and a nail in your brain is enough trauma.)  I do love how Stef knows the second time around that Jesus smelling gasoline is a precursor to a seizure and is able to get help to him immediately.

How Many Did You Take?/Two or Three/Take Your Blood...That Should Tell Us A Lot More:  Yes, PLEASE run bloodwork on her.  Lena knows Mariana didn’t take two or three pills…

Medically Induced Coma:  Thank you.  If he can’t stop seizing, they have to do that.  And I don’t envy Moms dealing with the knowledge that their son is about to have a bolt put into his head.

I Need To Go Pray. I Know You Don’t Want To But I Need To:  I love seeing Lena’s faith here.  How she talks to God like a friend  And I love seeing Stef show up with a sweater and to hold Lena’s hand, even though she doesn’t believe in God, and has been hurt by the church.

All He Ever Did Was Try to Protect You and Now Look Where It Got Him:  I kinda love that this scene between Emma and Mariana is here.  I feel like Emma is feeling what Mariana would be feeling if she weren’t drunk and high.  I think Emma’s feelings are absolutely legitimate.  And I think that Mariana struggling like she has been is absolutely legitimate.  She went through a couple of serious traumas back to back (not to mention earlier ones in her life.)  While I don’t support substance abuse to cope, I think it makes sense, especially given her biological medical history, that she might turn to those things to cope.  I feel for Mariana and I hope she gets the help she needs.

You Can’t Go Around Telling People That I’m Trans:  I’m so glad Aaron said something about Callie outing him.  Needed to happen,

Please, For The Love of God, No More Trouble:  They’ll try, Stef, but I’m not holding my breath.  (Also I loved seeing the support between Stef and Lena here, where Lena got all overcome with emotion and Stef was urging her to sit, and took over talking to the kids.)

I Just Want Our Boy Back:  So heartbreaking.  I hate seeing Moms so separated from Jesus but I know he needs rest and quiet.  (ICU is still too bright though.)  Stef running down that laundry list of consequences to a head injury like that...with two major seizures and everything else Jesus has gone through, I mean, be glad he’s alive.  Potential disability is not the worst thing ever, Moms.  Though I am really curious to see how the show will depict recovery from a brain injury as well as repercussions of that.

For more: Fosters Recaps

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As mentioned in my previous post, I concluded that in my opinion cruises are a perfect option for those with disabilities due to the excellent accessibility of cruise ships by large companies such as Royal Caribbean and the wonderful care that the staff provide for those passengers with a disability.  It is also preferable to using air travel because of the lack of waiting around for hours in a large airport.  However, as the first post was a general overview of cruising with a disability, I wanted to write another post, writing about my own experiences of going on a cruise with a neurological condition.

As regular readers will know, one of the main symptoms that I experience as a result of the brain stem lesion is dizziness and problems with my balance.  As a result, I was hesitant about going on a cruise because of the severity of these issues that have been increasingly become worse recently.  In fact, a few days before leaving for the holiday, I was in floods of tears stating that I couldn’t face going on the cruise because of how sick I have been feeling.  Furthermore, the attacks of losing my vision also came back the days before the start of the holiday, and as a result, I just felt that I wanted, or even needed to stay at home to be among the familiar surroundings and those items that give me comfort.  I was frightened of these episodes occurring when in unfamiliar surroundings and somewhere where I do not know the layout.  I was eventually talked round into going obviously and had to go anyway as it was too late to cancel without losing a substantial amount of money.

I so wish that I could write telling you, I had a fantastic time.  I wanted so much to be well enough to enjoy the whole cruising experience as well as visiting new places such as Rome and Florence.  However, unfortunately, I found the majority of the holiday feeling very unwell.  The dizziness and vertigo were severe for the entire trip and has not settled since returning, so I am hoping it is not yet another deterioration in my condition.  A lot of people who I know that have been on cruises assured me that these ships are so large that you cannot feel them moving at all (apart from the times when the sea is rough!), however, my experience was far different.  Even when the cruise ship was docked at the ports, I still felt the ship moving; for the entire holiday, my world was awash with constant motion.  Perhaps due to the neurological condition and the problems with balance, as a result, I am hypersensitive to any type of movement.  Furthermore, as a consequence of the increased problems with my balance while onboard, the number of falls that I experienced increased as a result and therefore had to rely on my wheelchair for most of the cruise.  However, having said this for me, a cruise was preferable as if my severe symptoms suddenly presented themselves then I would not be too far from the cabin where I would be able to lie down and recuperate until the symptoms dissipated and I felt well enough to rejoin the fun onboard again.

I didn’t manage to get off the ship during the cruise but didn’t miss out on the amazing sights that were on offer from the ship itself. This is an amazingly beautiful picture of Nice

The symptoms, however, did not dissipate or I recovered enough to fully enjoy the experience, and therefore, unfortunately, was unable to leave the ship and visit the various destinations that the ship docked.  The symptoms were just too severe for me to feel well and strong enough to get off which is such a disappointment for myself as I so wanted to visit these places and those in Italy in particular.  Instead, I had to make the most out of what I could do, which was not much because of the severity of the symptoms and due to the weakness in my legs.  Instead, I stayed in the cabin and slept due to the fatigue or spent the time reading.  It might sound as if I didn’t accomplish much. However, I did manage to read a rather impressive 6 books during the 15-night cruise, some of which I have wanted to read for a long time but hadn’t found the time.  A positive therefore is that the holiday gave me time to rediscover a love of reading and losing myself in stories that for a short period took my mind off the dizziness, trembling, weakness, fatigue and pain.  And talking of pain, I spent a lot of time using the Solarium and enjoying the facilities including the warm Jacuzzi, sauna and steam room.  I found that spending time in the jacuzzi was excellent to relax and unwind from the stresses and worries of my condition as well as helping to ease the pain that I experience in my legs.  In addition to using the jacuzzi, my mother also splashed out for us to have a massage at the onboard spa Adventure of the Seas, which again was incredibly enjoyable as well as being extremely relaxing.  The masseuse noticed the stiffness in my legs, as well as my cold toes, which apparently is a sign of poor circulation so, was even recommended on some oils which we could use at home to ease the pain and increase the circulation in my legs.  It was very pricey but really was worth every penny.  My highlight of the holiday!

My sanctuary onboard Adventure of the Seas

Even going down for dinner was difficult for me – the lighting, the varying ceiling heights and the loud noises  all seemed to bother me,, making me feel very dizzy and setting the vertigo and although I felt silly for wearing it, I needed the security of my hat with me, the majority of the time in order to block out the stimuli which were making my symptoms worse.  I was unable to attend the shows because of the strobe lighting and flashing lights being used, as they too are a trigger for the episodes of vertigo that I regularly experience.  However, I did attend an ice show which used such effects, and was very unwell afterwards, with the inability to even get dressed the very next day.  People did stare and felt very self-conscious but I remembered a great quote by Dr Seuss “Those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.”  A lot of people who we met during the cruise were lovely and very understanding such as Gemma and Stan, a granddaughter and granddad who sat on our table at dinner.  Both were lovely and we enjoyed their company during the cruise.  Although even attending dinner was difficult as positive is that, during most of the holiday I still managed to go despite the severe symptoms I was experiencing and very much enjoyed dressing up for the formal nights.  Arriving back at the cabin we were on some nights greeted with the fun and cute ‘towel animals’ created by our wonderful room attendant (who nicknamed me Rihanna during the holiday!).  They also helped put a much needed smile on my face!!

  Being so unwell and suffering with severe symptoms so much on a holiday was incredibly difficult and as a result was very difficult to remain positive.  For obvious reasons, did not have room to take my positivity board along with me on the board which is a main tool of mine to remain positive despite chronic illness.  I did however take my gorgeous Book of Strength and Book of Motivation along with me, which helped me to cope during the difficult times.  Then whilst browsing the shops onboard, I saw a gorgeous necklace, depicting the word ‘hope’.  In replace of the ��O’ was a ribbon using silver stones.  A silver ribbon, I remember reading is used for a variety of different including brain disorders (or neurological conditions) and as a result was drawn to it, and thought it would be a perfect piece of jewellery to remind myself to remain positive despite living with a neurological condition and remain hopeful on the days where dark clouds are appearing in the same way the positivity does for me when at home.  A couple of days before the cruise, they had a jewellery sale – this time selling charm bracelets by the jeweller Bella Perlini.  There were many bracelets to choose from in a variety of different colours; so many that I had trouble to decide which to buy.  Then I found a plain silver charm bracelet, which had the words ‘Live, Love, Laugh and Dream’ engraved and again the inspiring positivity of this piece of jewellery really spoke to me and so had to buy it.  With these pieces of jewellery it is like wearing a piece of my positivity board and carrying it with me wherever I go.

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To conclude, the cruise was a difficult holiday for me, with the deterioration and severity of my symptoms.  A cruise, however does offer several benefits such as the easy and fast booking and check-in day on departure day, and the short distance to your cabin when chronic illness strike.  Although, the cruise was difficult and felt very unwell for most of it, I am glad that I went; if I hadn’t there would always be that ‘What if?’ question being asked in the back of my mind.  In addition, if my parents were to go on a cruise again, I would not feel as if I were being left out or jealous that they were going away and I wasn’t because I am aware of the effects that the constant motion of the ship has on my particular symptoms.  But as unwell as I was during the cruise, there were several highlights of the holiday and positives of my time away.  Would I do it again?  Probably not; perhaps the only way, would be if the doctors were able to cure the dizziness that I experience.  How, likely that is I don’t know.

  A Personal Experience of Cruising with a Neurological Condition As mentioned in my previous post, I concluded that in my opinion cruises are a perfect option for those with disabilities due to the excellent accessibility of cruise ships by large companies such as Royal Caribbean and the wonderful care that the staff provide for those passengers with a disability.