#early cruz sighting!

[payaso-gomi]

Made a little cruz collage!

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

A Night Forgotten

Part Four

Flashback: The Wedding

What a beautiful, heart-felt ceremony. Emoni had come back from the restroom within the beautifully appointed ballroom. Her friends had picked an exquisite mansion to hold their ceremony and reception. The grand chandelier situated high above them made Emoni feel as if she were a part of Beauty and The Beast. The ivory ball gown the bride wore reminded her of a princess.

As Emoni enters the vast ballroom, she makes a beeline for the bar, needing to start the evening off on the right foot. Everyone began to mingle after filling their bellies with the best food she’d ever had. As she made her way there, her ivory and gold satin bridesmaids gown annoying her, she made eye contact with her ex, Troy, instantly turning her gaze away with frustration. He’d been trying to get her attention the entire time. Emoni wanted nothing to do with his lying, cheating ass.

To her delight, the bartender is a good friend: Brent is dressed up as Cupid for tonight's event, complete with a silly bow and arrow set slung across his chest. Ivory, silk, button down shirt on with the buttons halfway secured, his skin is oiled and painted in golden fairy dust, and his matching satin pants hang low on his hips. He looks like a love slave with fairy-like wings, quite honestly, more fit for a BDSM dungeon than a fairytale wedding.

"Brent, I didn't know you were a bartender, too!" she says as she takes a stool in front of him, tucking a stray curl behind her ear that had fallen from her elegant updo that Brent had given her just that morning. "This hair is fantastic, by the way. I love how it makes me feel, so…"

"Naughty and free?" he suggests.

"Exactly."

She's been his client for the last three years, and over that time, their rapport has been growing by leaps and bounds. It's been a wonder to discover there is more to this silent, talented man than just his good looks and charm.

"The best hairdresser in all of California by day, moonlighting as a mixologist for the newlyweds?! How very mysterious you are, Mr. Clark!”

Brent shrugs one muscular shoulder and flashes a quick grin. "I'm a man of many talents," he reminds her with a wink. "We're always full of surprises, Ms. Daniels."

"Is that so?" she challenges him with a wicked grin. "Why don't you prove it by making me something as unique and unforgettable as this hair Ply me with a menu of drinks guaranteed to end with my socks being knocked off!"

With a mischievous gleam in his dark eyes, he accepts her challenge.

"I do believe I've got just the thing for you, Ms. Daniels…"

Brent sauntered over towards the end of the bar to make her the perfect drink. Emoni swayed in her seat, enjoying the music and refusing to be in a sour mood because of her ex. Fuck him. He doesn’t deserve to steal her joy.

Unfortunately for her, another man known to be a thorn in her side since High School was on his way over, dressed from head to toe in Sebastian Cruz—Italian fabric. It’s a black suit with gold accents, matching the colors of the wedding. He is a groomsmen after all. His tapered locs are braided back and he couldn’t go without wearing his gold canines. He begins as it always does between them: with an acknowledgement and an insult.

"Evening, Daniels," Erik Stevens greets her with a bow of his head, taking up his customary place at her side as she turns up her nose at him, attempting to fake her disgust of him, “How goes the dick hustling tonight?"

She glances over at him, amused. His eyes are shielded with a gold half-mask. Very sexy. She would never tell him that however. With a mouth like his, it was sure to piss her off quickly. he carries a glass tumbler that is filled with melting ice and the tiniest bit of cognac.

Where is Brent with her much needed drink?! She searched the bar and there was no sight of him.

Odd.

Emoni was determined not to give into the whim to kick this smug Prince in his priced jewels. It's far too early in the evening for that sort of a juvenile response, and really she needed a little liquid courage to be that bold.

And why would you kick him in the balls when you actually want to tea bag them? Her salacious thoughts intruded.

"Hello, Stevens," she unenthusiastically responded instead, refusing to call him by his first name. "Still seducing the ladies with a forked tongue, I see."

His serpentine smirk is chased by a sexually-suggestive leer. "You meant silver tongue, I'm sure. And if anyone's out to deceive…you're the one dressed like a seductress, Daniels. Since when do you seduce?” He noticed she didn’t have a drink in her hand, “I take it Brent is still working on your drink?”

Emoni parted her glossy lips to speak but was suddenly rendered speechless. A beautifully-crafted cocktail was situated in front of her, as if it had materialized from nowhere. A striking and vivid pink, tropical flower was placed over the edge of the glass as a garnish. A pretty pink egg-white mixture swirled inside of the glass. It was topped with an orange drizzle and edible glitter.

For the slightest moment, Emoni could have sworn the mysterious drink glowed like it was made of magic. Even Erik couldn’t tear his eyes away from the pretty concoction. Just then, the most alluringly sexy voice brought her gaze forward. Emoni was stunned by the woman’s undeniable beauty. Long, sleek brown hair, feline eyes, chiseled jaw, sculpted body with sinewy curves, and a full set of lips so tempting. She was hypnotic.

“One Aphrodite’s Love Potion for you…”

“Thank you,” Emoni’s eyes searched, “Did Brent leave?”

“He needed to take a quick break. I’m taking over until he gets back…”

Emoni brought the cocktail to her lips and then she paused.

“What’s in this?”

“Gin, triple sec, lemon juice…just to name a few. It looks delicious, doesn’t it?”

Her voice was so beautiful. Erik stood there speechless. As if he were in a trance.

“Go on, drink it. I already know you’ll love it.”

Emoni gave a one shoulder shrug before bringing her lips over the rim and taking a sip. As soon as it touched her tongue, she was immediately hit with a burst of flavor. It was the best drink she’d ever had. She instantly felt a rush, the drink coursing through her body and making her feel all warm and fuzzy.

“It’s delicious. Thank you?—”

“Just call me Dove. It’s a nickname of mine.”

“Thanks, Dove. I may need another one of these tonight!” Emoni said with a flirty grin.

“Oh, you’ll be back for more, trust me. Maybe your friend here might want one?”

Erik locked eyes with Dove, for a second unable to formulate words. Someone had accidentally bumped into him on their way to the bar. Erik blinked away from Dove, clearing his throat to speak.

“I’m all good. For now at least. Not my type of drink.”

“I see,” Dove gave Erik a once over, “Well, I’ll see you two around. Enjoy your evening…”

Dove sauntered away towards the end of the bar. Emoni could feel Erik’s eyes on her. She glared at him.

“What?”

“Fitting.” He looked at her drink before eyeing her up and down, his gaze taking time to admire the view. "My, my, but you do love to play naughty for me, don't you?”

Although she didn’t particularly like the dress—not that it was her idea to wear it in the first place—it made her slim-thick body stand out. Her breasts sat up invitingly. The back of the dress although a bit poofy made her plump ass sit out.

“Naughty for you? That's the funniest thing I've heard all evening, Erik, Thanks for the ha-ha.”

She turns to assess the crowd of eligible men. There are more than a few faces she already knows, but others she'd like to know a lot better, “Contrary to your absurd and quite comical belief, I didn't dress this way for you. I have a specific agenda tonight.”

Erik scuffed, dimples deep in his cheeks and lips rolled shut, fighting the urge to burst into laughter. She’s such a logistician. That’s one thing about Emoni that attracted him to her. That articulate voice and intellect. It was so damn sexy. Erik waved down Brent who appeared again at the bar. He strolled over with a big smile.

“Another one of these, homie!”

Brent gave Erik a thumbs up and then he glanced at Emoni with a sorry look. She waved him away, not even bothered that he had to step away from the bar for a bit. Brent returned within two minutes with a new glass of cognac on ice. Erik accepted the drink graciously.

“Don't you always at these things? Have an agenda?” He dryly asks, taking a quick sip of his drink to hide a frown. “Speaking of which—” He leans in as if to impart a secret to her, appearing solemn and earnest in his proposal. “Look, the truth is…I just came over here to offer you my services.”

She turns her head and gives him a flat stare. “What services would those be exactly—teaching a woman what not to want in a man? Because you excel at that.”

“You're the only one who thinks so,” he baldly points out, and she knows he's right. The fact is Erik’s got women crawling all over him, begging for a piece on a regular basis, despite his abysmal character. Apparently, having a boat-load of money and royalty status is the great cosmetic for a truly deplorable personality, “As I was saying…my services,” he continues. “Tonight I'm feeling magnanimous, Daniels, so I'm going to make you an offer you can't possibly refuse.”

Emoni sighs and waves at him to get on with what will, indubitably, be a scandalous and ridiculous proposition. The answering dimpled grin he gives her is delightfully boyish and positively enchanting, and if she had fewer brain cells in her head she'd fall for it hook, line, and sinker.

“Go on, Boss, I’m listening.”

“Alright, now listen up because I'm not repeating it,” he says, preening as a peacock before her, “For one night only, for absolutely no money down and no contract necessary, I'm willing to save you the embarrassment of having to find and hunt down the perfect man for your desired one night stand,” He crudely points at his crotch. "I've already got one right here that can fulfill your every fucking dream. Totally free. I'll even throw in all the pink cocktails you'll need to work up the nerve. Dove is around her somewhere…”

Enoni purses her lips, trying not to laugh in his face. As far as trying it on goes, that one is rather original.

“So, let me just understand your pitch,” she replies, affecting indifference. “You're offering to ply me with copious amounts of alcohol and once I'm too inebriated to think straight, you're going to allow me a shot at some other chick’s sloppy seconds…assuming I don't fall unconscious somewhere in between and make things that much easier for you.” She fakes a yawn. “Nice try, but why would I allow my boss and a womanizer the chance of fucking me?”

His frown indicates he’s pissed that she would even think that.

“Your back is so gahdamn rigid, Daniels. I’ll be glad when you get that stick out your fuckin’ ass. And aren’t you the one tryna find a man to fuck in your hotel bed? A random man at that,” Erik chuckles, “So, if anything…”

She was furious then. She wanted to slap him in that pretty face of his. He was so infuriating!

“Are you calling me a hoe? All I did was tell you the truth. And you know it’s the truth, don’t you?”

He blinks as if she's nailed him right in the gut, and gives a long-suffering sigh as if disgusted with her total lack of interest.

“Daniels, you really know how to stomp a man's grand plans into dust at the same time as grinding his balls into meat strips,” He tosses back the contents of his drink, finishing off the glass. “I’ll leave you alone and watch you stand here looking desperate when an opportunity is right in front of you.”

Now she laughs and turns her attention back to the crowd, eyeing the selection and seeing if there is anyone there who might even remotely catch her attention tonight.

“You can’t stand the fact that I don’t fall for your dimples and your raspy voice and your status. Your charm doesn’t work on me. If you can even call it that.”

“Plenty do,” he grouses, looking petulant by her refusal to be impressed, “I'm amazingly appealing, and we both know that you know that.”

"Sure I do,” Emoni replied sarcastically with a roll of her eyes.

He sniffs. "Your problem is you're too green…miss prim."

“No, I'm foxy and an excellent judge of character. Far from green and prudish, Stevens.” Emoni fired back.

“Yes, well…” He sighs, twirling his now empty glass in his hand, “I don't suppose you'd consider lowering your stuck-up standards for a night to aid a fellow charity-dodger deal with his dick?”

“Not for all the air to breathe.”

“Ah, well, your loss, love,” he says, sounding not in the least put-out by her rejection.

He is, after all, quite used to it by now. This is a familiar ritual for them, one they'd been having on and off for the last five years or so since his return from Wakanda. It always ends the same, too: he 'flirts' outrageously with her then ducks out with some random woman on his arm, and she, unwilling to be the brunt of jokes about a lack of a sex life come Monday morning, eventually leaves with one of her friends-with-benefits for a Saturday night of vigorous sex…followed by a Sunday morning filled with hollow excuses and quick goodbyes. That’s how Emoni ended up with her ex, Troy. A serious mistake that led her into a toxic relationship.

Really, the way she and Erik dance around each other at these events and in the office is comical, if it wasn't so fucking obvious that they both wanted a good, nasty, rough night with each other. The problem is that Emoni wants more than a one-off with her boss. Unfortunately, he's highly allergic to commitment.

Hence the sexual tension with the mean bite. Suddenly, Erik surprises her by taking her drink from her hand and sampling it. He held her gaze with a penetrating stare, daring her to do something. She stared back at him with her mouth agape and eyes wide.

He sits the drink down on the bar and licks his full, tempting lips, giving her a slow once-over, “Enjoy your cute, little drink,” he offers and heads off, a beautiful model-type following him with lustful eyes. That wasn’t the only woman there that wanted a piece.

As he walks away, Emoni tries not to let her disappointment overtly show, or derail her from the plan: she is going home with some man tonight and will lose herself in their sex. She’s horny and it’s been too long since she’d been full of dick. After all, that always helps her, at least temporarily, to forget her unrequited feelings for Erik Stevens.

She finishes off her drink, giving a surprised hum at how pleasant it tastes…and how light it makes her feel by the time she hits the bottom of the glass.

“When do you plan on admitting your feelings for him? I mean, it’s been over ten years…”

Startled, Emoni looked forward and met the eyes of that captivating bartender. She slid another pretty drink towards her with a mischievous grin. Emoni was mesmerized by her undeniable beauty with a slight trace of vanity.

But wait, how did she know it’s been over ten years?

[m1d-45]

Can I offer you the thought of gifting Kazuha a music box to keep during his travels?

songbird

notes: yes. ignore that it took me [checks notes] like several months to get to this request. and that it was meant to come out on his birthday. shush.

word count : 3k

-> warnings : none ! minor spoilers for inazuma AQ but nothin serious

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist : @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

there was little you could give a wanderer. he only carried what he needed, and what was needed was already kept close and well-maintained. there was little room for extra trinkets or unnecessary weight, either sacrificed in a moment of exhaustion or left behind when fleeing from those who wished him ill.

your kazuha was no different. even after joining the cruz fleet, he travelled light, with barely the clothes on his back to keep him company. he kept his pen in one pocket and paper in another, rarely carrying so much as a coin purse. this was fine and good, except his birthday was coming up and you had not a single clue what to get him.

you couldn’t ask beidou or the crew, as he’d certainly be lingering by and his hearing was far sharper than his blade. you couldn’t ask him—you’d tried, actually, but he’d just smiled and promised that he didn’t have want or need for anything. he spoke of his birthday very casually, as if it was any other day and not the reason he was by your side at all.

but kazuha was nothing if not thoughtful. for your last birthday, he’d gotten you a book of pressed inazuman flora, each carefully labelled, and had spent the entire afternoon telling you exactly where he’d picked each and why he’d chosen it. a lavender melon flower for resilience, a sakura bloom for change, a maple leaf for love. it was a painfully sweet show of affection, especially considering that the sakoku decree was not yet lifted.

“kazuha- are you sure you want me to have this? it could be years before you could collect these again.”

“please, my muse, the decree will not last forever. i have faith. and even if it doesn’t…”

he slips his hand into yours, looking out across the harbor. he’d taken you to a ridge just outside the city, letting you appreciate the sights without being unable to focus on his book. he looks away for a while, out to the sea, out to what lies beyond, the world seeming to slow to a crawl around you. the very air held its breath, allowing a wayward samurai’s sigh to linger, his mind far, far away.

“…inazuma is my home, but it is not my only place of rest. even if i never again got to experience a wondrous autumn, i’d still have this book.” he dragged his eyes from far-off shores, the same color as the maples sewn into his clothes.

“i’d still have you, wouldn’t i?”

and oh, archons, just the memory of that was enough to make your cheeks warm from more than just the liyuen sun. it’s early morning and the crowds are just starting to pick up, the shops of the lower harbor slowly selling off their wares. you’ve been looking for the better part of an hour now, and nothing seems to quite stick.

he already has pens, and is rather fond of the kind he already has. while you have the name and seller of said pens—he’d lent you one a while ago and never took it back—he already kept several spares tucked into his pockets. no matter how often he writes, how many papers he folds and gives away, his pad never seems to thin. the thread he uses to repair his clothes never fades or grows sparse, and he’s never so much as lost the tie in his hair. the week is growing shorter, and you have nothing.

and sure, kazuha isn’t materialistic to begin with, but you can’t think of anything else. it’s not like he dislikes liyuen food, but you’ve caught him frying his own fish enough times to know that he far prefers simpler tastes. he’s the one more familiar with liyue’s plains and hills out of the two of you, and you’re not eager to hurt yourself looking for somewhere new only to find out he’s already been.

he never asks for anything, never shows a hint of wanting. if he likes something, he gets it, leaving little for you to grasp at. it’s hard not to feel helpless, when he knocks at your door with your favorite flower in hand and you can hardly think of a single thing to do for his birthday. you can’t very well buy the sight of gardens of maple, nor somehow import those odd jelly-fungi he’s mentioned eating while in inazuma. based on the way he describes them, you’re not even sure if they’re meant to be edible…

his sword is kept in pristine condition. his shoes don’t seem to wear. you’re not familiar enough with medicine to try at getting him something for his aches, but it doesn’t matter, because every dawn means a fresh set of bandages, the faint herbal scent of whatever medicine underneath staying strong. he doesn’t need anything, and what he does he already has, and what he wants is quickly paid for through months of saved wages. he catches his own food, embroiders his own clothes, and you’re certain he’d filter and drink seawater if beidou didn’t stop him.

what can you get someone so minimalistic?

you prepare to loop around a final time, pricking your ears for the slightest call of something interesting. an array of local fruits, the freshest on the market. silk textiles, horsetail baskets, handmade chopsticks. you push through the crowds, eyes flicking over each stall. food, clothes, more food, building supplies? the harbor is crowded, overlapping shouting and negotiating and the barest sound of music through it all, quickly becoming overbearing.

…music? you stop and turn and seek out the delicate sound, surprised enough that your purpose for browsing has been lost. it’s rare to see street performers this far from the city center, not to mention the sound is so thin… normally there’s at least a set of drums to cut through the chatter. you’ve looked over everything twice anyway, it wouldn’t really hurt to look.

you don’t find a performer. instead, the sound leads you a few stalls over, to one full of various odds and ends, each carved from a dark wood. a lone chair, a set of cups—one has a weird chip in the lip—on an uneven plate, a good dozen set of chopsticks, somewhat clumsily painted. it’s tended by a young man who’s very nervously watching the customer in front of him fiddle with a wooden box, turning it over and inspecting every angle. there’s a key sticking out the back, and when they open it again, a single thin note floats out, quickly dashed away by the crowds. it’s beautiful, clear and crisp, even with the noise around you.

“maybe another day,” the other customer shrugs, and though the vendor’s face falls, yours lights up.

it’s perfect. sure, yeah, as the would-be buyer steps away and you look closer, the lines of engraving are uneven and hesitant, but the music was what made it worth it. kazuha always talks of the song within whispering wind, and you’ve seen how his pace slows when passing an opera, lingering just so. you never bought tickets because you didn’t know which he’d seen before, but this… this would do just fine.

“sorry about the wait,” the vendor apologizes, a slight sigh to his voice. “feel free to take a look around, just please be careful when handling the pieces. i don’t need another scolding from master lu…”

you pick up the box before he’s even done speaking, flipping open the lid. inside is some sort of flower on a plain pedestal, the same color as the rest of the box and largely unremarkable. you turn it, twisting the key in the back a few times, letting the song play again. it’s a slow, dancing tune, clear through the bustle. the little flower spins slowly, and you’ve made up your mind.

“what song is this?”

the vendor perks up, picking through his pockets until he finds a folded note. “’moon in one’s cup,’” he announces, “composed by yu-peng from up in yujing terrace.”

you dedicate the name to memory, closing the box and latching it shut. already, your heart is beating a bit fast, excitement and relief filling your chest.

“how much?”

you were hiding something from kazuha. he didn’t know what, he didn’t know why, but he knew it.

well, that was a bit of a lie. if he had to guess, it was whatever you’d gotten for his birthday. he’d done his best to assure you that you needn’t do or buy anything for him, but you’d gone and found something anyway. he couldn’t mind too much, not when the wind around you seemed to curl and skip along, ruffling your hair with self-inflicted pride. you were happy, and that was a fine enough present in itself. it was better than the poorly-hidden worry that always colored your features before, and it was a relief to know that it was a shallow issue you had been hiding. birthday or not, he’d hoped you’d tell him if something was wrong…

but it was nothing, thankfully. you asked him to find you after dinner on the day of, and that was that. the rest of the week slipped away like clouds from the sky, leaving him with a clear mind and a faint smile as he slept.

beidou was, surprisingly, not the first to wish him a happy birthday. it was furong that first saw him enter the breakfast hall, raising a glass with a shout that quickly spread across the crew.

“happy birthday!”

“here, c’mon, let’s get you a drink.”

“a toast!”

“to another year of smooth sailing!”

“to our stormwatcher!”

beidou was, however, sat closest to the door, and so she was the first to throw her arms tight around him, not minding the way his armor certainly dug into her skin.

“happy birthday, kazuha. don’t mind the noise, yeah?”

it would be impossible for a day such as today to turn south. the crew settled down and food was pressed into his hands, the shouting cooling off as they refocused on whatever they had been doing prior to then.

aside from the commotion at breakfast, his day was relatively normal. monitor the supplies coming in to ensure nobody tampered with them, then unpack them below decks. there was less to do, but that was simply because the date of their departure was approaching. within a few more days, he’d be off across open waters once more, keeping eye on the horizon.

that was for later, however. after lunch, he left port and took a stroll north, sitting for a while in an open field. the sky was cloudy, but not enough to worry about rain, so he lay on a flat-enough stone and let inspiration ebb and flow. a haiku here, a scratched out line there, though he was admittedly less focused than usual. the joy from that morning hadn’t really left him, sticking to his clothes and filling his thoughts. he wasn’t blind to the fact that he was welcome aboard the alcor, but it would be foolish to deny the appreciation of such a loud gesture, in meaning and volume.

his birthday didn’t mean much to him. sure, there was another year’s worth of memories to look back upon, a year’s worth of friendship and connections, but that could be declared any other day just as easily. when on the run from the shogunate, there was little time for such things as celebrations…

perhaps that was why he was still smiling. not just because of his friends, but because he had the energy to appreciate them. the ability to take off work and sit in the sun, soaking in nature. the energy to look forward to later obligations, instead of being permanently stuck in the moment.

dinner was far calmer than breakfast. he returned to the fleet late in the evening, ducking below deck to help cook. very few crew members liked (or were even good at) cooking, which meant it often fell to him. today, though, he was ushered out quickly, a few more people than usual seeming determined to block him from entering. it was strange, but not unexpected. the crew was close-knit, with every milestone met with raucous celebration.

he didn’t mind, though, returning above and busying himself with odd tasks. ferrying messages from furong, sorting papers with huixing, any and everything to keep himself occupied until the bell rung and dinner was served. the smell of alcohol quickly stained the air around the crowded dinner table, joining the heady mix of relaxation, joy, and a bit of anticipation.

another surprise awaited him, it seemed. he stuck around after he’d finished his food, noticing when little yue slipped out but not mentioning it. he also looked the other way when he snuck back in with a plate with a somewhat dented cover, letting someone else take his empty plate as the new one was pushed into its place. the conversation fell and he ignored the smell of sugar in the air, lifting the lid.

inside was a cake with shaky, cramped writing, struggling to fit his name in such a small space. it had obviously been made in-house, and was likely whatever secret the chefs had been determined to keep.

the cake itself was okay. a bit too sweet, dense, and with an odd sourness that he couldn’t tell was intentional or not. but the crew was happy and laughing and he didn’t need wine to get dizzy off their high, sitting at a well-worn table in a familiar seat surrounded by those he loved.

there was only one thing left…

he packed one of the last slices and kept it close to his chest as the halls grew quieter, the night air far cooler above deck. anemo softened his fall onto the pier, the wind leading him through the city and into familiar streets. the sight of your house had long since engrained itself into his mind, but he still felt his smile grow, tucking his cake behind his back as he knocked.

you were as beautiful as ever. he was certain you could pick yourself up from a pile of mud and still be sstunning, but tonight you had put in effort. still dressed for the weather, but with a bit more care into the set of your hair, standing straight.

“my muse,” he breathed, taking the small box from behind his back. “i have brought you a gift.”

and of course, you made a fuss about it, about how it was his birthday and that he didn’t have to do anything for you. but was that not the same logic that he had given you? did it matter, really, when the air was sweet with more than sugar and even your mock anger couldn’t hide your excitement?

at your behest, he took your hand in his and led you out of the city. his ‘favorite place’ was rather vauge instruction, but his mind had been made up from the moment he’d seen you. not too far, as he’d hate to stay out too late, but still somewhere nice. past bubu pharmacy, up the stone path, and on the low ridge beside it. few people would be passing by this late at night, but it was still close enough to the city that there were no real threats. a blanket was laid out and you both sat, exchanging gifts. his was in a plain bag, carefully wrapped in layers of protective paper, a small wooden box that looked as if it was meant to have legs but the designer had changed their mind halfway through. it was fine work, if a bit clumsy, but he knew it wasn’t yours. your sudden shift in attitude earlier could only be explained by a storefront. further inspection found a latch on the front and a key embedded in the back, and he understood. inside the music box was (what he could only guess to be) a carved silk flower, though again, one of the stems seemed to have been snapped and hastily covered. he reached for the back and turned the key twice, letting the song begin to play.

it was beautiful. careful notes plucked a carefree song, sounding very much alike to the lighter bands along feiyun slope. the music rose and fell, cheerful but quiet, like a soft satisfaction instead of a bright outburst. it was a lovely song in its own right, but his mind was far elsewhere. you were waiting for his reaction intently, face held in suspense like you thought he might hate it. he’d think it foolish, but that would imply that he disliked it, and that was far from the truth. to know you cared so heavily about his reaction to a simple music box, that your worry was for him, that you had been so excited for him, that you were hoping for his approval as if you didn’t already hold all that he was in your palms. the box could be stolen on his way back to the city, knocked out of his hands and dashed under a heavy cart, and his day would still be all the brighter simply by virtue of you being in it.

it was his birthday, after all, and you were one of the best gifts he could ask for.

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Chapter 12 Nemo dat quot non habet (No one gives what they do not have) - Part 1

Previous / Masterlist / Next

Taglist: @glitterypirateduck @letsreadallday @jamesrifftapes @rileyslibrarian

Briefing room, 7am

Sergeant Christine 'Riot' Vega stopped in her tracks after opening the door to the briefing room, mobile phone in hand, when she found the room empty except for Kate Laswell sitting inside, facing the door.

''Kinda dramatic this early, don't you think?''

Laswell shrugged, sitting comfortably in one of the briefing room's chairs, which she had moved to face another next to the desk where the officers gave the instructions for the day.

''I am jet-lagged''

Riot grunted, rubbing her still sleepy eyes while she closed the door behind her and returned her phone to her pocket. Then, she approached the CIA Station Chief and sat down in front of her. Both women looked at each other for a couple of seconds before Laswell grabbed a can of coke from her bag and placed it on the desk next to Vega.

''It's 7am, Kate''

''You're going to need the sugar''

Riot glanced at the can before shrugging and grabbing it, cracking it open.

''I get the feeling I'm not going to like this'' She sipped a bit of the fizzy drink and sighed. ''Am I?''

''Maybe, maybe not'' Laswell retrieved a couple of folders from her bag and handed them to the Sergeant before leaning back in her chair again. ''There are photos in there. They are not pretty''

Riot looked up at the CIA agent for a second before opening the first folder. Her expression didn't change much except for a slight frown, and she started browsing the photos inside.

''... I knew these people'' She muttered, looking at Kate again.

''In the last few weeks, five former HeadHunters operators have passed away in less than clear circumstances'' Laswell leaned in and started grabbing the photos from the folder. ''Car accident, gas explosion, mugging gone wrong, another car accident, drug overdose''

Vega frowned, grabbing the last photo again to stare at it, drinking a bit more from the can.

''Drug overdose? Hawkins? He fainted at the sight of a needle, you can't possibly believe he'd...''

''I don't'' Laswell shook her head, leaving the photos again on the folder and grabbing the unopened one. ''But General Shepherd's substitute apparently thinks they're just unfortunate coincidences''

''Coincidences'' Riot snorted, checking the photos one by one. ''That doesn't exist''

The door opened again to reveal Captain John Price and Telecommunications Services Officer Gabriella 'Gabi' Cruz on the treshold. Captain Price waited for Gabi to step in before closing the door behind them, and took a seat behind the desk while the younger woman dragged a chair next to Laswell to sit down.

''What did we miss?'' Price grunted, his deep voice still sounding sleepy, but his eyes were as alert as always while he sat back and crossed his arms.

''I just showed her the photos'' Laswell looked at him briefly, and then at Gabi before returning her eyes to Riot, whose right knee had started to bounce.

''I feel like I'm about to be lectured here''

''There are other former HeadHunters operators that have simply vanished'' Laswell handed her the unopened folder, and the Sergeant grabbed it without looking. ''If voluntarily or not, that we don't know. But another six operators are unaccounted for as of today''

Riot looked at the list of names inside the folder, checking briefly the military files included, and then closed it before looking at Price.

''The answer is no''

The Captain chuckled and nodded before looking back at Laswell.

''You owe me a tenner, Kate''

''I owe you shit, John, we hadn't even gotten to that point'' The Station Chief grunted, and glared briefly at Gabi, who was quietly chuckling beside her, before leaning in her chair to look at Riot. ''Christine, if former HeadHunters operators are disappearing or being killed...''

''I said no'' The Sergeant stared right back at Laswell, with the stubborn look she knew so well after so many years. ''I won't hide in a basement, lay low, or whatever the fuck you were planning to do with me. Use me as bait instead''

''That's out of the fucking question'' Price shook his head gruffly. ''Not happening, kid''

''We have some of the rest under surveillance'' Gabi intervened, searching for a paper in one of the several folders she was holding, and handing it to Riot, who took it with a nod. ''There are not many left, I'm afraid. The unit had a high rate of...''

''Casualties'' Riot finished for her, studying the list of names and locations on the paper. ''I'm aware of that. Our COs wanted results, not safety''

''Until we know why they are disappearing or dying, I want you to...''

''I don't know why they disappear, but I can tell you why these are dead'' Riot interrupted, handing back the paper to Gabi and grabbing the photographs from the other folder again. Laswell blinked, surprised for once.

''You can?''

''Aye. I'm a recon scout. I'm trained to gather intel.'' The Sergeant nodded, humming softly while studying the faces, scanning her memory. ''It started with Colonel Stephen Greer, Rico's predecessor. He used to recruit people that were on the verge of being discharged for questionable behaviour or plainly criminal offences. People that were expendable, didn't know what else to do with their lives and wanted money to save for retirement''

''Colonel Greer is retired at the moment and living in Granada, Spain'' Gabi informed, consulting one of her other folders, and Riot chuckled.

''Of course he is, like a thousand of other Brits roasting themselves in the Spanish coast'' She kept humming, and then chose two photos and left them on the desk for them to see. ''These two were recruited by Greer, way before my time. They were about to get the boot for war crimes in the Gulf War 2. Their loyalty was to Greer, not Rico, and when Greer retired, they were butting heads the whole time. If the ones that disappeared are alive and have just rejoined Rico, these two wouldn't make the cut. But they could tell all kinds of shit about HeadHunters''

''And Rico shut them up'' Price nodded, arms still crossed and observing intently his newest Sergeant, who was now placing a third photo on the desk.

''Hawkins, as I said, fainted at the sight of a needle, but wasn't beyond dealing with opioids that he stole from every base where he had been stationed. I caught him myself once'' She frowned, shaking her head. ''Would do anything for money, including selling his mother''

''So Rico had him killed just in case?'' Laswell asked, grabbing the photo to look at it. ''Makes sense. When we interviewed him after your... ordeal, he didn't have anything to say, but suggested he could 'remember' things''

''Charming'' Riot shrugged, and then gave her another of the photos. ''This one was nuts, a loose cannon. He couldn't be sent alone anywhere because he would get in fights all the time, often killing the opponent. Useful when raiding a compound, but not so much when you're trying to lay low, off the grid''

''He was the first to die, in a supposed mugging that went wrong'' Gabi informed, with the police investigation file in hand and reading from it. ''What about the last one? Gonzalo Mejía... The one that had his house in Cartagena explode with him inside because of a gas leak''

''Gonzalo was a bastard. I don't know how he ended in HeadHunters, but he was a Caballero Legionario Paracaidista'' Riot leaned back in her chair, studying the photo. ''A paratrooper. Fucking tough guys. Nuts, too. My paternal grandfather was one''

''We have the theory that he had something that Rico wanted, the house had been searched through after the explosion. The house next door had cameras and recorded everything, but we couldn't identify anyone''

''If Mejía had something, he hid it and Rico wouldn't know where to look'' Riot shrugged, leaving the photo on the table, and Laswell smiled. Gabi smiled. Riot's eyes narrowed. ''What?''

''Would you know where to look?'' The CIA Station Chief leaned forward in her chair again, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her joined hands.

''Why do I feel that I'm being set up?'' Vega sighed, rolling her eyes and looking at Price. ''Does this have your approval?''

Captain Price couldn't hide his proud smirk when Laswell frowned. Ever since Belarus it had been clear where Vega's loyalty was.

''It does, kid. Miss Cruz here has planned everything it seems. You two are to travel to Spain, investigate the house, and then travel to Granada to interview Colonel Greer''

Riot's eyes turned to Gabi, who looked positively giddy.

''I have planned it as an undercover operation, just in case there's anyone keeping an eye on Greer apart from us. So we will fly to Valencia, and then we'll rent a car and go on a road trip, making stops, as if we were on holiday!''

Great.

Riot rubbed her eyes, listening to Price's rumbling laugh at Gabi's excitement.

''Alright... the two of us?''

''No, we're four. We'll need support, and to make it more believable I thought it would be best to pretend to be two couples on holidays!''

Riot's hand froze in place, staring at Gabi.

''What...?''

In that moment, someone knocked on the door, and after Price barked a curt 'Come in', Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley and Sergeant John 'Soap' MacTavish stepped inside.

''Are we late, sir?'' Soap grinned, and Price shook his head, trying not to laugh at the face Riot was making.

''No, lad, you two are exactly on time. Sit down. You're gonna need it''

[girlinlotsoffandoms]

day twelve - shot

notes: it's day twelve and whew febwhump is KILLING me lol

read on AO3 or below

Quiet shifts were a luxury for the dedicated men and women of Firehouse 51. Quiet shifts during a particularly harsh Chicago winter, however, usually meant that trouble was brewing.

As usual, 51 kept their doors open, welcoming in those who needed to warm up.

From his spot at the Squad table, Kelly noticed someone hanging around near the street. The guy looked to be in his late teens or early 20s and was not dressed appropriately to be out in single-digit temperatures. He knew most people in the area knew that the station was open to the public—they could warm up, grab a hot cup of coffee or hot chocolate, and come and go as they please. Some people didn’t know or didn’t “want the help”, but usually would change their minds with some convincing from the firefighters.

There was something about this guy though; something felt off about him and Kelly couldn’t put a finger on it.

As Kelly was staring at the guy through the bay door windows, Cruz stuck his head out of the common room and announced that there were fresh pots of coffee and hot chocolate.

Capp and Tony abandoned their Jenga game and stood from their chairs, more than ready for a fresh cup. "You coming in for a refill, Lieutenant?"

"Not yet," Kelly said, standing up from his recliner and slipping his beanie on his head. "That guy out there? He's been out there for a while. I'm gonna go see if he needs any help."

Capp and Tony both looked out and saw who Kelly was talking about. They nodded their understanding.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Kelly stated and made his way to the door.

It was bitterly cold outside, making Kelly shiver and tuck his hands deep inside his Squad jacket pockets. He ducked his head against the wind and made his way over to where the guy was still standing. As Kelly got closer, he saw the guy was more like a kid—no more than 18 or 19.

“Hey,” Kelly called as he approached the kid. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” the kid grumbled out, his voice agitated.

“You sure? It’s way too cold to stay out here without a thicker jacket. Do you want to come inside the station? Warm up and maybe get some coffee?”

“I said I’m fine!” the kid yelled. He turned to Kelly face to face.

Looking at the kid, Kelly realized that he wasn’t shivering like he originally thought. He was shaking, sweating heavily even though it was freezing, his eyes were wide and crazed, and his agitation was growing. He was high on something, and Kelly recognized it immediately.

“Fine my ass,” Kelly pointed out. “You’re high as a kite. What are you on?”

“NOTHING!”

“It’s not safe for you to be out in this weather, especially in this condition.” Kelly said, trying to reason with the kid. “Let’s just go inside—”

“So you can call the police?” the kid interrupted. “I don’t think so!”

Before Kelly could do anything, the kid in front of him pulled out a gun and aimed it at him.

Pain erupted in Kelly’s chest and abdomen. He felt multiple hits, almost like punches but sharper. The shooting was quick and frenzied, performed at a speed only a drug high could provide. Before Kelly could even try to fight back, the attack was over, and the kid was hurrying away down the street.

Kelly collapsed to the frozen ground, just out of sight of the station's bay doors. He felt a warm wetness spreading quickly over his body. His limbs didn't seem to want to cooperate, but he was eventually able to get his hand onto his stomach. Pulling his hand back, he saw that it was covered in blood.

Kelly was fading fast, and he knew he needed help. Slowly, as if his limbs were made of lead, Kelly tried to get his cell phone out of his pants pocket. He succeeded and even managed to get the phone unlocked and pull up Stella’s contact information but, before he could connect the call, his entire world went black. His phone fell into the snow beside him, Stella’s info still pulled up on the screen.

… … …

Inside the station, almost everyone was in the common room drinking coffee and hot chocolate. It had been about 10 minutes since Severide had gone outside and no one had noticed he hadn’t come back.

It wasn’t until Casey and Boden entered and asked where he was that some of them even knew he’d gone somewhere.

“He hasn’t come back yet?” Capp asked, setting his mug on the table.

“What do you mean ’he hasn’t come back yet’?” Casey asked. “Where’d he go?”

“He saw someone outside,” Tony explained. “He was going to go talk to them, see if he could get them to come inside and warm up.”

“He said he’d be right back.” Capp added.

“Well, he’s not in here, in his office, or at the Squad table.” Casey asked, crossing his arms. “How long ago was that?”

Capp glanced at the time on his phone. “About 10 minutes.”

At this point, everyone in the room was concerned. The temperature outside was in the single digits with a windchill in the double-digit negatives, and it had started snowing again. There was no way Severide would be outside talking with someone for 10 minutes in those conditions. But, if he wasn’t in the station, there was only one place he could be.

Stella sat her mug on the counter and pulled out her phone, immediately calling her fiancé’s number. It rang and rang, but Severide didn’t pick up. Stella looked at the group, moving her phone from her ear to dial Severide’s number again. “His phone’s on but he didn’t answer.”

“Keep calling him,” Casey said. He started zipping up his jacket. “I’m going to go look for him.”

“I’m coming with you,” Stella said.

“We are too,” Capp and Tony added, standing from their chairs.

Soon, the entire shift was zipping up their coats to go look for Severide.

Once outside the station, they all spread out to look for Severide. Stella continued calling his phone, so they were listening for the ringing along with looking for any trace of him.  

It didn’t take long, maybe a minute or two, before a panicked yell from Cruz had everyone running to the side of the station.

Stella didn’t know what she was expecting to find when she made it over, but her fiancé, unconscious in a far too large pool of blood, was not it. “Oh my god, Kelly!”

She immediately dropped to her knees, opposite Cruz, and stared in horror at Severide’s body. She could easily count 4 gunshot wounds, but there was so much blood there could’ve been more.

Immediately, she used her hands to apply pressure to two of the wounds while Cruz did the same to the others. Stella heard someone yell for Brett and Violet to grab their gear and she heard Boden yelling into his radio for dispatch to send CPD and stand them down but her only focus was Kelly.

Brett and Violet arrived and worked together to replace Stella and Cruz’s hands with pressure bandages. They got him hooked up to oxygen, IVs and monitors and loaded onto the stretcher.

From the amount of blood on the ground, everyone knew the situation was critical but the looks on Brett and Violet’s faces did absolutely nothing to calm their fears.

They had just loaded the stretcher into the ambulance when the CPD arrived.

Stella and Brett climbed into the back of the ambo with Severide while Violet hopped into the driver’s seat. Lights and sirens blaring, they rushed off to Med, leaving Boden and the rest of the team to deal with the police and try to make sense of everything.

… … …

Two gunshot wounds to the abdomen that damaged his liver, nicked his large intestine, and tore through his abdominal muscles.

One gunshot wound to his chest that punctured a lung before getting lodged in a rib.

One gunshot would towards the middle of the chest that, miraculously, missed the heart by millimeters.

Massive blood loss and hypovolemic shock, which led to cardiac arrest.

And mild hypothermia, which slowed Kelly’s heart enough to keep him from bleeding out on the scene.

There were several close calls, three blood transfusions, two chest tubes, and Kelly was in for a long recovery, but he was alive and as stable as he could be.  He was going to be OK.

That was the report Stella got from Dr. Marcel after close to seven hours of surgery.

During that excruciating wait, Stella and the rest of 51 learned from Trudy that CPD had found and arrested the kid who attacked Severide. He was an 18-year-old high school dropout with a history of drug abuse and assault (and a warrant out for his arrest), high as a kite and still covered in Severide’s blood when the police found him. He was refusing to talk, but they had more than enough evidence against him.

Kelly Severide had such a good heart. It often got him in trouble, this time though, it almost got him killed.

Stella sighed and stood from the chair beside Kelly’s hospital bed. She squeezed his hand and used her free hand to run her fingers through his hair. They’d started weaning him off the sedation a few hours ago, and Stella was desperate to see his blue eyes open again.

It seemed like Stella was going to get her wish when, after a couple of minutes, she felt him squeeze her hand. “Kelly? Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes for me?”

It took a few seconds, but eventually, Kelly opened his eyes. Stella smiled at him. "Hey."

Kelly hummed a response and it took him a little while to get his bearings and find his voice. "What happened?"

"You were shot outside of the station. By the time we found you, you'd been bleeding out in the snow for ten minutes."

"How bad?" Kelly asked quietly. 

Stella sighed. "Pretty bad. You got shot four times; Dr. Marcel had to repair some damage to your liver and intestine, your lung was punctured, and the fourth bullet came within millimeters of your heart. You lost a lot of blood and were dealing with mild hypothermia but you're going to be OK.”

"Damn," Kelly moaned. "I thought he needed help."

“I know babe.” Stella comforted. She moved a hand to his cheek. “CPD has him now, maybe this will be the thing that helps him get clean.”

Kelly nodded in agreement, but he knew Stella didn’t believe her own words. He didn’t believe them either.

A few minutes passed quietly, the couple just happy to be together, until Stella spoke again.

"You really scared the hell out of me." Stella scolded gently. "I mean it Kelly, it was close this time. You almost didn't come back from this."

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Kelly said, sincerely. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good. Because I’m looking forward to spending the rest of my life with you.”

Kelly smiled a tired smile. “I like the sound of that.”

Stella smiled and leaned forward to kiss him. “Me too.”

[readingslover]

Chapter 4

Previous chapter | Next chapter

“You don’t understand. Me gonads, you ovaries!” Let out a very frustrated George as the group gets out of the car. This has been going on since they woke up.

“Oh, that reminds me, we’re out of tampons,” Izzie said.

“Izzie, you’re parading through the bathroom in your underwear when I’m naked in the shower.”

“Can you add it to your list, please? Tampons.” The tall girl replied, ignoring what George said.

“It’s to the list, it’s your turn,” Meredith explained as they walk towards the entrance. It was still dark outside.

“I am a man!” George exclaimed.

“I get that you feel weird about Izzie walking in when you shower. But, what is your problem with buying tampons? It’s normal to buy them.” Amory said.

“I don’t buy girl products. I don’t want you walking in while I’m showering, and I don’t want to see you in your underwear.”

“It doesn’t bother me, okay? Look at me in my underwear George, take your time. It’s no big deal.”

“It’s the same as a bikini, George,” The other blonde said patting his back.

~~~~~~

“You are the first person they see in the morning. You say please, you say thank you, you apologize for waking them up. You make them feel good about you.” Dr. Bailey told the interns while they were changing into their scrubs in the locker room. “Why is that important? Because they’ll tell you what’s wrong. Why is that important? Because then you can tell your attending what they need to know during rounds.” Amory closed her locker and put her hair in a ponytail. “And why is that important? Because if you make your resident look bad, she’ll torture you until you beg for your mama. Now get out there, I want pre-rounds done by five thirty a.m.”

“I better get good patients today. Yesterday I had two guys with colostomies who needed dressing changes every fifteen minutes.” Meredith said after Bailey had left.

“Well, I had a guy who kept calling me a nurse, despite multiple people calling me a doctor,” Amory complained.

“I’m gonna be in surgery. Today is my day.” Cristina said, looking into the distance.

“On what?” Meredith asked.

“Yeah, on what?” The blonde repeated.

“Like I’d tell you. I was here at four and you didn’t get here until four thirty.”

“Why won’t you tell us?” The dirty blonde insisted.

“I’m not the intern who’s screwing an attending.

“Hey, I’m not either. So, you could tell me.”  Amory says.

“Oh no, I can’t. You’re smart, everybody likes you. You’re gonna get surgeries either way.”

~~~~~~

Later that day, Meredith George and Amory walked down the hallways.

“There need to be some rules,” George complained.

“So, what, we can walk around in our underwear on alternate Tuesdays, or you could see bras but not panties? Or are you talking about Amish rules? Because if you’re gonna get Izzie to cover herself…” Meredith says.

“The amount of flesh exposed is not the point. You have to do something, it’s your house?”

“It’s my mother’s house.” Meredith corrected Izzie.

“Do you like Izzie?” Amory asked. “Do you have a crush on Izzie?

“Izzie?! No, Izzie, I don’t like Izzie. No, she’s, she’s not the one I’m attracted to.” The boy blurted out.

“No the one, so there’s a one?” Meredith asked, George, while he tried to avoid any aye contact with the two women.

“O’Malley, Grey, Madden, get Karev and head down to trauma. You’re with Shepherd.” The resident ordered as they approached, assigning them their tasks.

“Shepherd's in surgery,” Meredith stated since Dr. Shepherd left the house early to be on time for the surgery.

“He got pulled before he could start.” The resident informs.

~~~~~~

As the group approached their attending for the day, they come across a shocking sight. Their patient was somehow conscious, even with several nails in his skull.

“I can’t see my hands! I can’t see…” The patient informed, panic in his voice.

“Use 4 mgs of morphine. Titrate up to 10. You know what I don’t want him to move.” dr. Shepherd ordered.

“Okay, Mr…?” Amory started

“Cruz, Jorge Cruze.” A nurse told her.

“We need you t stay very still, Mr. Cruz,” The blonde informed him.

“He tripped and fell down a flight of stairs holding a nail gun.” The nurse told the group.

“Somehow he managed to miss a blood vessel. That's a minor miracle. Optic nerve's been affected. Can you feel this? Numbness on his right side.” Dr. Shepherd examined. “What's our immediate concern?”

“infection.” Meredith and Amory said in unison.

“Right. I wanna be pulling these nails out in the next half-hour. I need a CT.”

“CT's are down. They exchanged them out last night. Computer's crashed; have them back up by 1:00.” A nurse informs them.

“So typical.” Dr. Shepherd muttered. “So what are the options?”

“MRI.” George suggested.

“Brilliant. The man's got nails in his head. Let's put him in a giant magnet.” Alex said sarcastically.

“We should do films from three axis points and a C-arm in surgery.” The blonde said.

“Excellent! You guys dig up research and find out if this has ever happened before.”

Just when we where about to leave, Amory heard the man speak again.

“My wife, my wife, my wife.”

“Your wife is on the way, Mr. Cruz”

She then left the room, Meredith being assigned the job of watching over the man.

~~~~~~

After the girl did some research along with George, they approached the attending to inform him of what they found.

“Dr. Shepherd? Turns out there have been 23 similar cases to our patient’s, though one was a suicide attempt, so I don’t think that counts.” George starts.

“It doesn’t count. Anything else that could help?”

“Well, there aren’t any procedures that could but it’s been established that a shorter surgery time reduces risk, and bleeding and infection are the main problems to look out for,” Amory informed him.

“great, so I’m on my own.” He sighed.

“We have also thought of something that could help, but we’re not sure.”

“Go ahead.”

“What if we remove the nails from the exact angle they entered the skull?” George started.

“That way we avoid any further damage so it should be safer.” The girl finished off.

The attending started smiling, seeing the work they had put into this. “You might be onto something. Great work O’Malley, and Madden. You’ve earned a chance to scrub in.”

~~~~~~

“Vertiginous or light-headedness?”

“Light-headed. Sometimes he'd have to brace himself to get out of bed.” George informed him as they scrubbed in for surgery.

“Could be a million things. Simple orthostasis. What?”

“What made him fall down the stairs with a nail gun?” Amory wondered out loud.

“He said he tripped. Just because you hear hoof beats, don't assume zebras.”

“ Something caused him to lose consciousness and fall down the stairs. He could have a tumor.” The boy explained.

“How about, we start with this surgery and after that worry about the possible tumor? He shouldn’t even be alive by now, right?” The girl suggested, having finished scrubbing in.

“Exactly, I have no clue why he’s still moving and talking. Let’s wait before we say something that might not be there.” Dr. Shepherd agreed.

Jorge was really nervous about his surgery, which is completely normal. So Amory suggested to tell them about his wife, which he gladly did.

“She had this thing for red when we met. Red car, red dresses, red hats. Personally, I hated the color. Too obvious, you know? But a couple years ago, I took her up to the mountains. She was in a red dress, and there was this field of red… poppies I think. And she jumped out of the car and ran into them and started laughing, laughing at all the red.”

~~~~~~

While the surgery was happening, the chief narrated what is happening to those in the galley.

“As you can see, the patient has shot seven nails directly into the skull without doing significant damage other than the optic nerve, and we may be able to save that. The idea is to remove the nails at exactly the angle they entered. Any wiggle, and we risk doing more damage than when they went in.”

As Dr. Shepherd removed the nails with his incredible precision, George and Amory assist. After all of them were removed with little to no bleeding, Dr. Shepherd evaluated the situation.

“I don’t think we made it worse. The big question is the optic nerve. We’ll know more in the morning.”

“Should we order the MRI?” The girl asked.

“He needs to stabilize. We'll do it tomorrow.”

~~~~~~

The next day, after finding that Jorge had gotten his sight back, Dr. Shepherd ran some tests as the interns watched.

“Can you tell me what you had for breakfast on Monday?” The surgeon asked.

“Cheese omelet. And on Sunday, and on Saturday, and on Friday. Sone gets up every morning and make me a cheese omelet.” Amory smiled at the couple’s relationship. This is something she hopes would someday happen to her.

“It’s the only thing he likes.”

“It’s the only thing you know how to cook?”

“Okay, things look good, but I need Jorge to get an MRI this morning to check for residual bleeding.” The surgeon informed.

~~~~~~

Turns out George was right, the patient has a tumor. Now they had to inform him and his wife he had a patient.

“Best practice, probably to remove the tumor. "Probably" because I can't get it all.Ninety-nine percent, but not all of it. Radiation and chemo, you're looking at maybe five to ten good years.”

“Let’s do it.” Jorge decided.

“You haven't heard the downside. See, the tumor is located in a part of your brain where your memory and your personality resides. And because of the fuzzy edges of this type of tumor, I have to cut out a lot. Jorge, you stand a good chance of losing your memories. Of losing who you are.” Amory inform them. It’s their job to inform all of the patients of the good side and the bad ones.

“The alternative is gamma or cyberknife treatment with focus radiation. It's less evasive. There's little chance of memory loss or him losing himself but it would only give Jorge maybe three to five years.”

“Three to five years?” Jorge’s wife asked a clear lump in her throat and started crying.

“This is an incredibly difficult decision. If you have any more questions or you need to talk to me, I'm here, ok?” They left the room to let them talk about it.

~~~~~~

The couple decided to have the surgery. Sona explained that she’d rather have 10 bad years with her husband than 5 good ones. It wasn’t Amory’s decision, but she’d rather have 5 good ones, than 10 bad ones. She would want to make memories with the person she fell in love with, not the body of him and the mind of someone else.

Later that night, She came home to find Meredith downing a whole bottle of tequila.

“What’s going on? I heard you advised Sona against the surgery. You know we can’t do that.” Amory asked her moving to sit next to her. “Don’t tell me you’re fine when I know you’re not. So do you wanna talk about it? Or do we just drink this bottle, forgetting about it?”

“I want to talk about it, but I need you to promise me you won’t tell anyone.” The dirty blonde took another sip of the bottle before continuing.”My mom isn’t on a road trip around who-knows-where, she has early-onset Alzheimer’s. She’s in a nursing home. I’m the only one who can visit her and she won’t let me tell anyone. That’s why I advised against it. I know how it is to live with someone who most of the time doesn’t recognize you.” The blonde let out an “oh” and moved closer to Meredith.

“Do you want to be alone? Or can I stay and we share the bottle?” She asked.

“You can stay” Meredith answers passing me the bottle of tequila.

They spent the rest of the night drinking the bottle and talking about gossip they heard from the hospital.

[cljordan-imperium]

FLASH FRIDAY FICTION

Prompt posted by @flashfictionfridayofficial​

THE IMPERIUM CHRONICLES TAG LIST - @ceph-the-ghost-writer @kjscottwrites @writingpotato07 @saltysupercomputer @careful-pyromancer @late-to-the-fandom @autumnalwalker @perasperaadastrawriting @fearofahumanplanet @jessica-writes22 @dogmomwrites @mjjune @verba-writing

Let me know if you'd like +/-

Now…to see who from Imperium is having fun in the sun….hint...you've met him, but she hasn't come in yet...can you guess before you look??

The sun glinted off of the water, diamonds glittering across the small waves that were lapping at the white sand.  There was hardly a sound other than the soft whoosh of the water and the birds overhead.  It was a far cry from the demands of court, the battles against the Princes, and even the seeming constant commotion within the Palace with all the newest residents.  The breeze coming off of the water was soft, caressing the skin of the couple lounging in the hammock and bringing the scent of the fresh salty air to them under the shade of the palms.  The sight of the scene as a whole would have shocked, yet amused, most who knew the powerful male and thought him never to relax.

“Do you want to go for a swim?”  The heavily accented voice of Katrya was low and soft, barely raising above the ambient sounds of the beach they were just off of.  

“No, I’m enjoying relaxing here in the shade with you.  Why do you want to go in the water?”  His lips caressed the curved shell of her ear as he spoke low next to her ear, his deep voice making her feel like her skin was vibrating.  At the same time, his arm tightened around her waist where he was holding her against him.  She couldn’t deny that she was enjoying being in the arms of the large male as they just relaxed and looked out at the sea.  

“When was the last time you took a vacation?”  There was tease in her voice, a lightness that caused his heart to skip.  

“Middle Ages?  Early Renaissance?” There was humor in his deep voice and she let out a light laugh.  Would anyone believe her normally stoic love could be humorous?  She doubted it.  When in the Palace he could almost be a statue, at least when around others…

She rolled over in his arms, her body awakening at the feel of his hard and muscled body rubbing against hers.  Looking up into his sky blue eyes that were slightly creased with amusement, she let her fingers run through his jet black hair.  “Well, Cruz, we are going to have fix that more often, aren’t we?”  There was a mischievous smirk on her lips.  While she would not try to change him one lick in front of others, she did want him to learn to relax and realize he deserved to be happy.  The weight he carried for an almost two millennia old mistake was foolish.

“Is that so, little queen?  Are you going to try to make a decree on me?”  One brow rose as humor still continued to dance in his eyes, grabbing the light glinting off of the water and putting it to shame in the process.

“I have been dethroned, remember?  Unless…” she let her nose rub against his as her lips just barely ghosted over his, “you are planning to dethrone your sister.  I prefer being the King’s Consort.  All of the benefits, none of the responsibility.” She kissed him lightly, the taste of him only making her desire him more. “Except making sure the King is well taken care of, of course.”  Her deep brown eyes swirled with seduction and it dripped from her voice like honey.

“Oh, I think he is very, very well taken care of…”  Now he claimed her mouth possessively, his fingers fisting in her hair as his fingers of other hand deftly undid the strings on the side of her suit. “But he can always use more care…”

[streetglider]

(Dora Maar Double Portrait with Hat – Art Blart _ art and cultural memory archiveから)

Dora Maar (French, 1907-1997) Blind Street Peddler, Barcelona 1933 Gelatin silver print Image: 39.3 x 29.3cm (15 1/2 x 11 9/16 in.) Gift of David Raymond The Cleveland Museum of Art © 2013 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris

The Second Spanish Republic fascinated many of the photographers active in the international context during the first half of the 20th century, such as Henri Cartier-Bresson, Man Ray and Dora Maar. The latter travelled to Barcelona in the summer of 1933; there, imbued with the spirit of the flâneur (Baudelaire’s stroller looking for chance encounters), she wandered through the city taking photographs of anonymous characters. In Mendiant aveugle (Blind Beggar), Dora Maar felt drawn to blindness, a motif that had been recurrent in photography from its very beginnings, because of the paradox of capturing the image of someone who cannot see. Dora Maar plays a game that is both conceptual and aesthetic, by combining elements that seek symbolic efficacy, in harmony with the interests of Surrealism: the subject’s open eyes, which preserve the gesture of seeing but not the sense of sight, the mysterious wrapped object the beggar is holding in his lap (probably a stringed instrument) and the lowered metallic blinds that serve as a backdrop to the character’s drama. This image is evidence of the affinity that Dora Maar felt with the surrealist group; in the opinion of its early theorists, André Breton and Paul Éluard, artists should “train one’s eyes by closing them” in order to shape their gaze and direct it towards the alternative reality associated with the unconscious mind.

Text by Almudena Cruz Yábar

[seaviewhomes]

CAR RENTAL ST JHON USVI

Discover Roswell and Beyond: Your Ultimate Guide to Exploring with Car Rental St John USVI

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Why Choose Car Rental St John USVI for Your Island Adventure?

When visiting St. John, having a reliable mode of transportation is essential to fully experience the island’s wonders. Car rental St John USVI offers you the freedom and flexibility to explore at your own pace. Whether you're venturing to the pristine beaches, lush hiking trails, or historic landmarks, a rental car ensures you don’t miss a thing.

Top Attractions to Explore with Car Rental St John USVI

Trunk Bay: Known for its underwater snorkeling trail, Trunk Bay is a must-visit. With your rental car, you can arrive early to beat the crowds and enjoy the serene beauty of this iconic beach.

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Virgin Islands National Park: Covering two-thirds of the island, this national park is a haven for nature lovers. Drive through its scenic roads and discover hidden gems like Annaberg Plantation and Cinnamon Bay.

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At Sea View Homes, we understand the importance of a smooth and enjoyable travel experience. After exploring the intriguing sights of Roswell, including the International UFO Museum and Research Center, the Roswell Museum, and the Bottomless Lakes State Park, extend your adventure to the idyllic island of St. John.

Plan Your Perfect Vacation

By choosing car rental St John USVI, you unlock the potential for an extraordinary vacation. Seamlessly transition from the captivating allure of Roswell to the tranquil beauty of St. John, making memories that will last a lifetime. At Sea View Homes, we're here to help you every step of the way, ensuring your travels are as enjoyable and stress-free as possible.

Ready to start planning your dream vacation? Visit Sea View Homes to browse our stunning properties and begin your adventure today!

[influencermagazineuk]

Ana de Armas: The Mesmerizing Beauty of Hollywood

Image: Instagram / Ana De Armas When we talk about the most promising and talented young actresses in Hollywood, one name that instantly comes to mind is Ana de Armas. With her stunning looks and exceptional acting skills, she has captured the hearts of audiences all over the world. Born and raised in Cuba, Ana started her career at a young age and has already made a significant mark in the entertainment industry. In this article, we will take a closer look at Ana de Armas' journey to success and her rise as one of Hollywood's most sought-after actresses. Early Life and Career Beginnings Ana Celia de Armas Caso was born on April 30, 1988, in Santa Cruz del Norte, Cuba. She grew up in a small village with her parents and older brother. From a young age, Ana showed a keen interest in the performing arts and would often participate in school plays and local theatre productions. At the age of 14, Ana enrolled at the National Theatre School of Cuba, where she received formal training in acting. She graduated at the top of her class and was soon offered roles in various television shows and films in Cuba. Breakthrough Role in "Una Rosa de Francia" In 2006, Ana landed her breakthrough role in the Spanish film "Una Rosa de Francia," directed by the esteemed Manuel Gutiérrez Aragón. Ana's portrayal of Marie, a young Cuban woman caught in the throes of a passionate love affair, was her first exposure to a wider audience. Her performance was notable for its depth and nuance, effortlessly conveying the complexity of her character's emotions. This role allowed Ana to showcase her acting prowess, earning her recognition in the industry and paving the way for future opportunities. Hollywood Debut and Rise to Stardom After making her mark in Spain, Ana set her sights on Hollywood. She made her Hollywood debut in 2015 with the film "Knock Knock," where she starred alongside Keanu Reeves. Despite mixed reviews for the film, Ana's performance was praised for its intensity and authenticity, sparking interest from several renowned directors. She went on to star in "War Dogs" and "Hands of Stone," further establishing herself as a versatile actress capable of diverse roles. However, it was her role in the critically acclaimed film "Blade Runner 2049" that truly catapulted her to international fame. Ana's portrayal of the holographic AI, Joi, was both poignant and compelling, earning her critical acclaim and recognition from audiences worldwide. Recognition and Recent Endeavors Ana's remarkable performances have not gone unnoticed. She received a Golden Globe nomination for her role in the thriller "Knives Out," where she played a nurse entangled in a murder mystery. Her performance was hailed as a breakout, marking a significant milestone in her career. Most recently, Ana de Armas starred in the much-anticipated James Bond film, "No Time To Die," where she played the role of Paloma, a CIA agent. This part allowed her to showcase her range, combining action, comedy, and drama effectively. It is clear that Ana's talent and versatility position her well for a long and successful career in Hollywood. Off-Screen Life and Philanthropy Off the screen, Ana is known for her down-to-earth personality and philanthropic efforts. She frequently uses her platform to raise awareness for various causes, including climate change and animal rights. Despite her fame, Ana remains deeply connected to her Cuban roots, often sharing her love for her home country and its culture with her fans. Image: Instagram / Ana De Armas Ana de Armas is a true testament to the power of perseverance and hard work. Her journey from a small town in Cuba to the glitz and glamour of Hollywood is truly inspirational. With her talent and dedication, there is no doubt that Ana de Armas is set for an even brighter future in the cinematic world. As we eagerly anticipate her future projects, one thing remains certain - Ana de Armas is a name that will continue to shine in Hollywood for years to come. Read the full article

[xtruss]

Save the Eggs — The Next De-extinction Target: The dodo! Bird Reproduction Will Make Bringing The Dodo Back a Big Challenge.

— John Timmer | January 31st, 2023

The Nicobar pigeon, the dodo's closest living relative, is quite a bit smaller and capable of flight.

Colossal is a company that got its start with a splashy announcement about plans to do something that many scientists consider impossible with current technology, all in the service of creating a product with no clear market potential: the woolly mammoth. Since that time, the company has settled into a potentially viable business model and set its sights on a species where the biology is far more favorable: the thylacine, a marsupial predator that went extinct in the early 1900s.

Today, the company is announcing a third de-extinction target and its return to the realm of awkward reproductive biology that will force the project to clear many technical hurdles: It hopes to bring back the dodo.

A Shifting Symbol

The dodo was a large (up to 1 meter tall), flightless bird that evolved on the island of Mauritius in the Indian Ocean. As European sailors reached the islands, it quickly became a source of food for them and the invasive species that accompanied them. It went extinct within a century of the first descriptions reaching Europe.

Its lack of fear for humans initially turned it into a metaphor for foolishness. But as concerns for human-caused extinctions and ecosystem disruptions have risen, the metaphor has shifted to one where the dodo represents a preventable tragedy caused by human thoughtlessness. It's that latter metaphor that made its de-extinction appealing to Colossal. "I think a lot of it is the name recognition," said Beth Shapiro, a biologist at the University of California, Santa Cruz, who's collaborating with Colossal. "You know, I think people don't really care about extinctions, in as much as it doesn't impact them personally. But the dodo somehow has this real draw to people.

"By targeting something that is so famous—really the icon of human-caused extinction—I think we're going to draw more people into thinking about it," Shapiro told Ars. (She's also collaborating on a separate project that's looking into de-extincting a second of these icons, the passenger pigeon.)

In the case of the thylacine and mammoth, Colossal made the case that returning these keystone species to the habitats they once inhabited will alter the habitat significantly, changing which species can survive and thrive there. The company's argument for restoring the dodo is, in many ways, the converse: We will have to restore the ecosystem before a revived dodo can survive there.

"If [dodos] are to be able to reestablish thriving populations on Mauritius, it's going to require removing many of the invasive species that were introduced there. And in that way, this project will help to reinvigorate and revive these ecosystems," Shapiro said. "By making sure that dodos can survive there, we'll have to create a habitat that is also beneficial to other endemic Mauritian flora and fauna that maybe are struggling to survive because of the invasive species rather than because of the absence of dodos."

Technical Hurdles

The dodo is also a new direction in a biological sense, in that it's a bird. In mammals, things like cloning, gene editing, and other manipulations are done all the time and have been used successfully in various species. Birds, partly because of their use of eggs, require different techniques—techniques that haven't been as thoroughly developed or widely deployed. In fact, they've only been used in a single species, the domestic chicken.

The techniques developed there are dramatically different from what's available in mammals. In chickens, we don't have stem cells that can reconstitute an entire embryo, and it's not clear that we could use them anyway, given that the initial development of the embryo is so closely tied to egg production. But we do have what are called primordial germ cells (PGCs) that act a bit like stem cells—they can divide indefinitely in culture dishes—but are committed to only forming germ cells, which go on to produce eggs and sperm.

During normal chicken development, the primordial germ cells migrate through the circulatory system and reside in the developing gonad. PGCs can be manipulated in culture and then moved from the culture dish to the circulatory system at this stage, allowing them to form genetically engineered germ cells and give rise to offspring that carry the same engineering. This works partly because of the egg; a small hole can be opened, the PGCs transferred, then the hole can be taped over and the chicken embryo can continue to develop.

However, we don't know whether these techniques work well or at all in species beyond chickens. Or whether PGCs from one species can successfully enable reproduction when transplanted into a different one. Or how size mismatches between eggs and developing embryos work out. Or any of a large number of additional questions. So, it's possible that the technology development needed to enable the dodo de-extinction could hit a brick wall well before trying to engineer any dodo-like DNA sequences into its closest living relatives, the Nicobar pigeon.

Worth The Effort?

For several reasons, Colossal sees the risks as being worth the effort. One of these reasons is simply its business model, which involves recognizing when the technologies needed for de-extinction can be useful in medicine, biotechnology, or agriculture. Many species of birds are raised commercially, and it's possible that streamlining PGC manipulations and enabling them in other commercial species could generate revenue for Colossal.

Developing these technologies for birds is also in keeping with Colossal's interest in ecosystem restoration. "We're losing a lot of birds, which are really, really critical to ecosystems, and there's just not enough money going into it," Colossal's Ben Lamm told Ars. "We could start working on the dodo while further developing some of these underdeveloped and underfunded technologies around bird conservation."

— John Timmer is Ars Technica's Science Editor. He has a Bachelor of Arts in Biochemistry from Columbia University, and a Ph.D. in Molecular and Cell Biology from the University of California, Berkeley. John has done over a decade's worth of research in genetics and developmental biology at places like Cornell Medical College and the Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center. He's been a speaker at the Nobel Dialogs, the annual meeting of the National Association of Science Writers, and the Science Online meetings, and was one of the organizers of the SONYC discussion series. John has taught scientists how to communicate with each other and the public at Cornell Medical College and Stony Brook University. When physically separated from his keyboard, he tends to seek out a bicycle, or a scenic location for communing with his hiking boots.

[poetryfoundation-potd]

On the Meeting of Garcia Lorca and Hart Crane

BY PHILIP LEVINE

Brooklyn, 1929. Of course Crane’s

been drinking and has no idea who

this curious Andalusian is, unable

even to speak the language of poetry.

The young man who brought them

together knows both Spanish and English,

but he has a headache from jumping

back and forth from one language

to another. For a moment’s relief

he goes to the window to look

down on the East River, darkening

below as the early night comes on.

Something flashes across his sight,

a double vision of such horror

he has to slap both his hands across

his mouth to keep from screaming.

Let’s not be frivolous, let’s

not pretend the two poets gave

each other wisdom or love or

even a good time, let’s not

invent a dialogue of such eloquence

that even the ants in your own

house won’t forget it. The two

greatest poetic geniuses alive

meet, and what happens? A vision

comes to an ordinary man staring

at a filthy river. Have you ever

had a vision? Have you ever shaken

your head to pieces and jerked back

at the image of your young son

falling through open space, not

from the stern of a ship bound

from Vera Cruz to New York but from

the roof of the building he works on?

Have you risen from bed to pace

until dawn to beg a merciless God

to take these pictures away? Oh, yes,

let’s bless the imagination. It gives

us the myths we live by. Let’s bless

the visionary power of the human—

the only animal that’s got it—,

bless the exact image of your father

dead and mine dead, bless the images

that stalk the corners of our sights

and will not let go. The young man

was my cousin, Arthur Lierberman,

then a language student at Columbia,

who told me all this before he died

quietly in his sleep in 1983

in a hotel in Perugia. A good man,

Arthur, he survived graduate school,

later came home to Detroit and sold

pianos right through the Depression.

He loaned my brother a used one

to compose hideous songs on,

which Arthur thought were genius.

What an imagination Arthur had!

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52174/on-the-meeting-of-garcia-lorca-and-hart-crane

Audio Included

[pinkpcny]

isn't sure how long he's sat there before kash starts talking, all he knows is that he's grateful when he does even if cruz doesn't say anything back. he wants to, several times, especially after hearing the story of the other males father. wants to scream out that he loves him. that he always has. always will. wonders what's worse : never hearing those words from your father at all, or hearing them once and then never again. wonders if those three little words, or big in his mind, will be uttered between the two of them ever again, or if it was a confession only meant to be spilled between the sheets on one beautiful occasion. he keeps listening, hangs on every word until all falls silent. faint smile tugging at his lips at the thought of kash drifting off to sleep. can't help but to hope he finds some peace in his dreams. the idea brings a small comfort that allows him to close his own eyes, fall into a light slumber. it's the early hours of the morning when charlie lomax pulls onto the street, uber driver determined to get her out of the car as fast as he can. groan emits the moment she does, sight of someone slumped outside of her door. " hey ! " lack of decorum presents itself as she approaches, words slightly slurred as alcohol continues to take affect. " look, it really sucks that you don't have a home dude, but like . . . i need to get into mine, so scram, " she insists, leg moving to give a light kick. only when she moves to step over them does she realize who it is. years since she'd seen him and the last time she'd been so young, but how could she forget the face of the boy her brother had spent years pining over. " pathetic, " mumbles under her breath, roll of her eyes as she shoves in her key, pushes open the door. " ow, " cruz groans in surprise, eyes shooting open as his body gets pushed against the wall. " what the fuck ?! " groggy as he stands, barely aware of what's going on. charlie still mumbling as she stomps upstairs, irritated for no good reason other than she's her. " making the guy you've been in love with since what-fucking-ever age sleep outside is a whole new level of playing hard to get, " though she's taking note as she slams her room door shut, and as cruz comes to, suddenly he's face to face with the person he's been trying to avoid. chest aches, heart swells. doesn't know what else to say other than, " hi. "

sits   there   for   a   while   in   silence   ,   nothing   but   pen   scratching   paper   and   police   sirens   in   the   distance   to   keep   him   company   .   would   find   it   peaceful   if   there   wasn't   a   war   thrashing   inside   of   his   head   ,   making   it   hard   to   focus   on   anything   except   the   man   on   the   other   side   of   the   door   .   hums   a   distracted   beat   under   his   breath   ,   pen   dangling   from   his   lips   as   fingers   drum   against   notebook   before   he's   emitting   a   sigh   .   "   you   know   ,   when   i   was   nine   ,   my   dad   came   home   really   fucked   up   .   like   ,   i'm   talkin'   ..   slurring   his   words   so   bad   that   he   couldn't   even   remember   his   first   name   ,   hunched   over   ,   could   barely   stand   .   my   sister   was   so   pissed   that   she   threatened   to   make   him   sleep   out   on   the   street   but   i   bargained   with   her   and   said   i   would   take   care   of   him   ,   "   emits   a   laugh   that   sounds   more   like   a   breath   ,   sniffing   as   head   falls   back   against   the   door   ,   "   i   didn't   know   the   first   thing   about   takin'   care   of   anybody   ,   but   i   did   know   how   to   cure   a   hangover   .   so   i   got   him   water   ,   aspirin   ,   took   off   his   shoes   and   shit   ,   and   helped   him   get   into   my   bed   .   looking   back   on   it   ,   it   was   actually   pretty   fuckin'   dumb   .   he   was   a   shitty   dad   ..   if   you   could   even   call   him   that   .   only   showed   up   when   he   needed   something   ,   never   gave   us   anything   .   but   i   was   a   kid   ,   you   know   ?   didn't   know   the   first   thing   about   enabling   people   .   "   isn't   even   sure   if   anybody   is   on   the   other   side   of   the   door   ..   hell   ,   doesn't   know   if   cruz   is   even   home   .   he   could   be   out   ,   filling   his   time   with   people   that   don't   treat   him   like   shit   and   lie   to   his   face   ,   or   maybe   he   was   in   bed   and   sleeping   the   whole   ordeal   off   .   but   he   keeps   talking   anyway   ,   clearing   his   throat   ,   "   that   was   the   first   and   only   time   my   dad   ever   told   me   he   loved   me   .   i   almost   didn't   hear   it   and   sometimes   ,   i   think   i   may   have   imagined   it   .   but   he   rolled   over   when   i   was   pulling   the   blanket   over   him   and   looked   at   me   through   bloodshot   eyes   ,   and   mumbled   it   .   i   stood   there   for   a   couple   minutes   afterwards   ...   thinking   he'd   say   something   else   ,   maybe   thank   me   or   something   stupid   like   that   .   but   then   he   started   snoring   ,   and   i   just   left   .   "   throat   thickens   and   fingers   begin   drumming   restlessly   against   paper   again   ,   tongue   running   along   lesser   before   he's   sucking   it   into   his   mouth   and   chewing   it   raw   .   stays   like   that   for   a   while   longer   ,   mind   swirling   and   spinning   ,   as   silence   blankets   him   again   .   but   it   grows  deafening   ,   thoughts   a   bit   too   loud   ,   and   he's   jumping   into   the   next   story   ,   and   the   next   ,   until   his   voice   grows   hoarse   and   sleep   inevitably   takes   him   under   .

[enchantedblackrose]

We Need You

Pairing: Kelly Severide/Fem Reader

Summary: Kelly responds to a fire at your workplace

Warnings: ? lmk if I'm forgetting something

A contribution to One Chicago Week 2002. Prompt used: chills. Huge shout out to @resanoona for helping this actually get edited. I thought I had a cute idea and this was a pain to write so I hope ya"ll like it.

Part 1|| Part 2

We Need You Part 1

It should have been a day like any other. But being a squad lieutenant at one of the busiest firehouses in Chicago didn't exactly promise Kelly Severide "normal" days. Or maybe what made this day worse than others was that Kelly was in love with you.

Bells rang at Firehouse 51. A building fire demanded truck, squad, and ambo. There was a slight hesitation in Kelly's pace as he kept going over the address in his head. Then, he felt his heart sink to his stomach; that address was your workplace.

For Kelly, the ride felt like it took an eternity. In reality, squad arrived at the scene in under three minutes.  

The ten story building appeared to be engulfed by flames from all sides.  Dark, heavy smoke poured out of windows. People were still exiting the building, but many were gathered just outside coughing, crying. Paramedics ushered everyone they could and began triage nearby. Kelly, hoping against hope, scanned the crowd for your face.

"Severide. Severide!”

Kelly's attention was pulled from the group of unknown faces to the man that just hollered his name. Casey gave him a quick 'what's the matter with you?' look. 

"Y/n works here. Seventh floor."

Understanding and worry washed over Casey. "We'll find her, Kelly. She'll be okay." Kelly, not trusting his voice, only nodded in response. Casey resumed speaking to a man about the fire. Kelly listened while his eyes focused on the door, willing you to walk through it unharmed. 

“Any way of knowing how many people were present?” 

The man shook his head no. 

“Know how the fire started? Did you smell anything, see anything?”

“I’m sorry, no. I can tell you the ground floor is just washrooms now and custodian closets. And the top two floors are completely vacant since-” The man erupted into a coughing fit.

“Thank you, sir for that information. Let’s get you checked out.” Sylvie appeared at the man’s side and escorted him to the ambo for a quick assessment.  

Civilians stopped exiting.and Casey started giving out orders. Kelly instructed squad to gear up when a sudden blast of flames overtook the entire eastside of the building.

Kelly could not let any more time pass. His first instinct had been to run into the building, straight for your office. He tried to remain calm, assess the fire with Chief and Casey, and stayed outside as long as he could. Kelly would not wait any longer.  He raced towards the building ignoring the protests of both Boden and Casey.

"Y/n could be in there!" he yelled back to them before disappearing into the smoke.

“Severide!” Boden barked. 

“I’ll get him, Chief!” Cruz appeared on the other side of Casey, mask ready.

“No.” His voice made it clear there was to be no arguing. “We stick to the plan.”

“Copy that.”

“Excuse me? Are you in charge?” A woman in her late 40’s approached Boden and Casey.

“Yes, ma’am. I am,” Boden nodded.

“I spoke to all the other office managers and shift supervisors from the entire building. Everyone is accounted for except a woman…a y/ln from the seventh floor.”

~*~

The day was unseasonably warm, so when you were offered an early lunch break, you took it and taking advantage of the break in the weather, walked to your favorite pastry shop nearby.

You casually strolled back to the office, happily munching on bits of your chocolate croissant. As you neared the building, you were shocked to see a number of firetrucks and ambulances surrounding the street in front of the building. You had heard the sirens going while you were at the pastry shop, but you had no idea they had been called for your workplace. The sight caused chills up and down your back despite the warmer temperature. The chocolate croissant fell to the ground, as you felt your heart plummet. You spotted a face you knew, a face you never wanted to see at a fire. You saw Chief Wallace Boden.

Kelly's chief.

And that could only mean…

Suddenly you were running towards the trucks. It didn’t matter that firefighters you didn’t know stood in your path acting as a blockade. You would make it through. You would get to Kelly. You were instructed not to come closer. But the commotion warranted the attention of the Chief. 

Boden’s eyes fell to you. A visible sigh of relief left him as he hollered for the firefighters from another company to let you pass. He had already previously radioed Kelly informing he was free to search for you and only you as all others had been accounted for. He wanted to give Kelly a time limit, but because it was you that Kelly was looking for, he hadn't wasted his breath. Casey, Cruz, and the other members of 51 were itching to get inside the blazing building, to safely retrieve both you and Kelly. The decision weighed heavily on Boden. He had been about to give an order when he had spotted you about to argue with those other firefighters. The timing was truly serendipitous.

When you reached the chief, tears had already started to fill your eyes. Boden placed a hand on your back.

He radioed. "Severide? She's here. She's alright. Do you copy?"

There was static, coughing, and finally the voice you were so desperate to hear. "I copy, chief. The wall behind me collapsed. My exit's blocked. I have to go around."

Boden sighed, not liking that Severide needed the extra time. He offered you the radio.

"Kelly? You get out of there. I mean it. Whatever it takes, you do it. We need you.”

The radio crackled and then Kelly’s voice rang out. “No matter what happens, know I love you, y/n.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself not to cry. Minutes seem to go by. The fire was unrelenting. Scared for Kelly's life, you welcomed Boden's much larger hand in yours and held tightly.

Through the thick smoke, Kelly appeared where a glass window used to be. Though you were still frightened, it was a welcomed sight.  Mouch worked to get the aerial to him and you watched without ever taking a breath. You didn't relax until he was on the ground in front of you. He stripped off his gear with every step towards you until you were within reach. You clung to him and he welcomed your tight embrace. You pulled away to look him over. Your hands roamed his face, chest, arms, unable to believe he stood before you unhurt.

"I'm okay, y/n. I promise."

"That’s good," you said through a sniffle, "because…we really need you."

Kelly stared blankly back at you, momentarily puzzled by you echoing the same sentiment you gave over the radio. He assumed you were referring to yourself and his 51 family. Another possibility occurred. 

"Are you…?"

You nodded and Kelly instantly placed a hand on your tummy.

Boden did a double take. "Kelly Severide, you S.O.B." He said with only affection. Kelly smiled wide and Boden pulled him for a hug, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Boden hugged you next with sincere congratulations.

"It's still early, Chief," you said shyly.

"I won't say a thing until you’re ready." You smiled and thanked him for understanding. He waved you off. "Severide, take the rest of shift off."

"Chief, you sure?" 

"Consider it a gift." Boden said as he walked away.

Kelly wrapped you in his arms and kissed the top of your head. “You have made what I thought was going to be my worst day ever into the best. I love you, y/n.” 

[abbynx]

How to have a relationship with Panacotta Fugo

Genre: Headcanons

Warning: Language, mentions of trauma, emotional outbursts

A/N: I love him, your honour. Also listen to "Break your heart" by Taoi Cruz

- So falling in love... It takes quite a lot for him to even develop some sort of connection with you, seeing as how he continually disprove and chastise Giorno for making the smallest of mistakes in part 5, I don't see why he wouldn't do that to others as well.

- So early stages of relationships involved him being dismissive of you and being indifferent, but that's just him being him. He doesn't like you, nor does be dislike you— his treatment remain the same. We will not hesitate to put a fork in your flesh while yelling myriads of Italian profanities at you... Sooo yikes 😬

- BUT DON'T GET ME WRONG! He can be somewhat nice if things aren't busy around the mafioso gig, ya know? He can be calm and patient and have more grasp of his patience, he can be chatty about the recent things he has learned and discuss it thoroughly. It is a sporadic side of him that's always a sight to see because he isn't clenching his jaw nor clutching a fist.

- I think it's the pure-hearted and dedicated that makes him fall. Those who persevere through hardships and coming up with unconventional solutions that oddly work in their favour and just enduring challenges life throws at them. Those who refused to be reduced into adjectives uttered by those who doubted them, in fact it only makes them do better and in spite, prove them wrong. I mean... That's how Fugo finally warmed up to Giorno.

- So... In terms of starting to pursue him romantically requires a lot of preparations. Such as getting close to him (not necessarily physically, he doesn't really fare well to it yet just sayin').

- Befriending him is tricky because ya know, he has a general distrust towards people due of the encounters he had in the past. Hence, what you're going to do is to just let it happen, let it naturally develop. Slow process, baby steps, testing the waters and all that.

- Remember when I said there's a sporadic side of him that adores talking about academics? Don't waste your opportunities, go talk to him about it. It doesn't matter about how little you know about astrophysics, quantum physics, Hunchback of Notre Dam or any of the math science literature history art shit he is into, making it known that you're interested in talking to him and listening to him will make him like you. This will make him want to talk to you more and then suddenly the next thing you know, he no longer side-eyes you chastisingly... Too much.

- Then the conversations will start to drift into more than the academics, but your personal experiences; He'd be sharing moments that happened whilst he hung out with his friends, how stupid Narancia is with the math no matter how many times Fugo stresses the answers, how he warmed up to the newbie Giorno, how Mista was on and on about the number four, how he looks up to Bruno etc etc... He shares them to laugh with you, perhaps express his frustrations and to be frank, he's never felt better to vocalize it to someone who would listen and chime in to ask some clarification. That way, he can also analyse and think about he has done, reflect and just see it in other's point of view.

- The more he gets closer with you, the more he trusts you and soon, the personal experiences evolves to his personal life, where you get some tidbits from his childhood. He'd drop some small info about his past, how he brought up the amount of pressure he had in the family, how young he was, how strong his urges to get his hands on a potentially fatal weapon to dispose of his parents whenever he'd see them... He's been through hell and back, dragged by the hair by life and it's nice to tell someone about that he had to go through.

- So with this bond formed, whenever he needed to cool off after smashing his fist on the wall, he'd find you and you'd be there softly tending to his bleeding hands and listening as he rants away. He really didn't need to be angry to be going to you, he genuinely enjoys your company and doesn't mind spending a whole day with you, just hanging out and whatnot... He realised how he liked your presence so much, he'd get a wee bit antsy if you're not around, finding himself quite a bit irritable because of it.

"Hi Panacotta!"

"Oh! Y/N! Come sit with us! I have a new riddle for you!"

Both Mista and Narancia can only stare in disbelief at how brief the extent of rage Fugo has suddenly evaporating at the sight of you. Then they smiled, having been caught up with the tension between you two.

- But then a revelation came to him... How joyful he is whenever he'd see you and how he'd instantly light up no matter what he's been feeling... How you can get away from his constant scrutiny and how you always receive praises from him... He believed it was a natural thing between close bonds, but he knows how close bonds are thanks to his friends and this feeling with you is certainly different...

"Oh... OH—!"

- Congrats! You made the Panacotta Fugo madly in love with you! A round of applause for Y/N L/N for being a powerful being 🥳🎉🎊

- You'd think this is the end of it but no we're just warming up *cracks fingers*

- He's going to deny it to himself that he was feeling this way, even chastising himself for feeling such a thing. He thinks that him falling in love with you will only bestow you a curse. What if he accidentally unleashes his anger out on you? What if he loses control and hurts you?

"I'm worthless. They deserve someome who treats them like a deity, not a therapist."

- By some miracle, he wasn't catching onto your body language and figuring out that you're in love with him too. So let's say you confessed.

So there you were, spilling your heart out for him, shed a few tears or two, with nothing to lose. He short-circuits. This revelation uncovered feelings about you made him over think about a lot of things. Sure, you feel the same way as he does but...

"I'm sorry Y/N but... I can't accept your feelings."

- Your close bond became nonexistent the moment your feelings were made known to him. He distanced himself in hopes of losing you and resulting you to find someone else better. All that bonding, all that depth, all that trust, all that friendship, disappearing in a mere flash. All of the sudden, you were a stranger again.

- If you made any attempts to approach him, he would be quick to make an escape. If you chose to leave him one, prolong the amount of doubts you have for your relationship and question yourself if you'd done something bad to warrant this behaviour of his will only give him a temporary 'relief' of sorts. Sure it hurts to see you hurting, because of him no less. But in his eyes, he sees this as a better alternative to whatever bullshit he'll give you because of his stupid feelings.

- But if you decided to confront him, or more like corner him, perhaps figuratively and literally, I think he'd snap at you. On full volume, pitch on peak of cracking and breaking, tone angry, words damaging.

- He'd say hurtful things about himself and how he's not worth your time, that you should just leave him alone and such... And in his deep state of neck-deep emotions the tears cascading from his eyes didn't register to him until he realised he need to breathe.

- What remains of the fiery rage that built up within him is in a pile of ashes, then suddenly there goes the emotional downpour.

"I-I'm sorry Y/N I—" God he felt pathetic crying in front of you. And he was at fault, why was he the one crying? Why was he on his knees? "Please... Forgive me..."

- Then you'd be there, keeping your distance out of respect for his lack of desire for physical touch, but you were there to offer him a handkerchief. And as he is in the floor bawling, you were there, calmly rebutting the things he said about himself.

- I think he has too much emotional, psychological things to work through before having a relationship. Such as overcoming his extreme self-loathing, work on his anger issues, get over his past and such.

He loves you, he really does. But he doesn't think he's ready for a relationship. It's the lack of self-esteem that was stopping him, why he avoided you and he was very apologetic about it. He has emotional intelligence to be aware that he is not ready for this sorts of commitment

- So you were there, at a distance but still there comforting him, when he suddenly pulls you, his face against your torso and his tears on your clothes, as he profusely apologizes.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to avoid you like that... Please know I'm avoiding you for your own good, but as it turns out I'm just afraid... Afraid of what I might do to you..."

"Like hurting me?" He nods, his face still against you. He flinches at the slightest when your hand lands on his shoulders, but doesn't move an inch. Your fingers finds its ways in his nape, playing with his hair. "Oh Panacotta... I know you won't hurt me. In fact, I feel safe with you."

- There's no relationship happening between the two of you, at least not yet. Fugo promised that once he's ready, he'll be with you. You wouldn't mind, won't you? You'd be by his side, supporting him in every step.

- It takes long, he gets the thought about him being too slow, only for you to reassure him that you're patient and that he should take his time. He feels nothing but comfort and security in your presence and he works through his issues and learns how to control himself.

- The issue-sorting was quite lengthy, but in the end it was all worth it when he was finally ready. So there really is a happy ending for our boy right here.

[lonestarbattleship]

Crew of USS TEXAS (BB-35) conducting familiarization training with their new ship near Lobos Island, Gulf of Mexico.

"Now we were alone in the world. Except for an occasional ship on the horizon and for the tender which brought us mail and fresh provisions once a week, we'd see nothing but sea and sky and our small domain for days to come. For our purposes it was ideal; we forgot all about Vera Cruz, forgot everything but the TEXAS.

In the flat water of the Gulf, we got up anchor each early morning and went out to learn her ways. How long would it take to bring her dead in the water from full speed ahead? What was her turning circle? Had her engines any kinks, and her gear any weak spots? Was she good at casting on her heel? Could she dodge a torpedo? How long after the rudder was put over did she pick up her swing? At five knots, at ten knots, at fifteen knots, at twenty knots? Did she gain speed well?

And we had the fourteen-inch guns to work at. The shell weighed three quarters of a ton; there was electric hoisting gear for handling them. The powder charges weighed four hundred pounds, and came up from the magazines by power hoist and hand. What was the fastest, smoothest way to load the guns?

We put seventy men to a turret's crew, to be welded into a clean machine. Some of them went down into the deep magazines, to bully projectiles from their racks with chain purchases, or to pass powder through flaps in the bulkheads. Others we placed at stages on the way up, in the upper handling room, the upper powder room, the ready service, others back of the guns in the loading crews-rammermen, powder men, plugmen, shellmen, gun captains, hoistmen.

Heavy work for all, and they had to be synchronized into swift, coordinated teams.

'Try it again, lads. This time, Riley, stand with your feet a little closer to the tray. When you lift that bag of powder, get under it with the muscles of your back and thighs. It wants to come up faster. Savvy?'

'Le's go, sailors. Come on, now-ready on the plug.'

'Stand by....Load!'

Grunting, hurrying, they strained in movement; awkwardness merged into grace. They used dummy 'powder' charges made of wood.

Under the guns the pointers looked through their telescopic sights and turned the handwheels of the pointing gear; the white lighthouse made a good target.

'Don't spin the wheel so fast,' coached the officer. 'Come up to the point of aim. Slowly, now. Now stick with it. That's the stuff. Mark, mark, mark, mark--right on. Mark, mark... Stand by... fire! A little off that time; try it again. Mark! Mark, mark... mark... mark, mark, mark...stand by ... fire! That would have been a good hit." The loading crews cut down their time to fifteen seconds, and below that.

Our routine was tight and regular as the clock. It shook the looseness out of her. Sailors, lax from long time in port, stiffened to the discipline of a hard, taut, crew."

Passage from "Come On TEXAS" by Paul Schubert.

Photographed sometime between June 2 and July 7, 1914

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