#have a few others ill try to steadily put up in the upcoming weeks

[earthenterran]

satoko/rika; i stayed there (gou/sotsu)

spoilers for higurashi gou/sotsu

vid features lots of suicidal imagery. some blood. watch at your own discretion.

inspired by this beautiful video by @liesweliveby that I rewatched so much it made me want to play with the same song. please check it out as well!!

I wish the series explored the isolation satoko went through with gou/sotsu more. tried to emphasis the scenes where she's just standing off to the side, ready to play her part to keep the dream she wants to keep on dreaming.

(do not remove caption)

[wakaoujisenhime]

May I please request some angst with Kise being busy with basketball and modelling career neglecting his s/o? Additionally his s/o thinks he's cheating on them and just a big misunderstanding. Thank you very much 😊❤️

A/N: Even though I am quite late, happy Valentine’s Day! This actually got longer than I planned it to be, but I hope you’ll like it nonetheless! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Tags: Kise x reader ✅  angst ✅  fluff ✅

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

Misunderstanding - Kise x reader

If someone had told you that you’d become the Kise Ryouta’s girlfriend some time ago, then you wouldn’t have believed it.

Kise was a young face everyone would’ve recognized if they had seen it somewhere in public. His blond hair was partially at fault for that as well, but the main reason for his immense popularity was his side job as a young model for different fashion and makeup brands. On top of that, he had been a part of the legendary Generation of Miracles, a group of six young and talented basketball players who each had an extraordinary and never-seen-before skill that could turn every game around. He was very fond of this sport and wished to steadily improve himself at every possible opportunity so of course, it was a given that he’d continue his training even after middle school.

Thinking about this handsome man and all of his achievements made you wonder just how lucky you were for being able to call him your boyfriend. You still couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that the two of you went to the same school and were in the same grade, but never mind that, what surprised you the most was the moment he’d asked to meet you and then sheepishly confessed his interest in you and the wish to be by your side as your boyfriend. It was such a surreal situation that you couldn’t help but nod throughout the entirety of it.

The two of you didn’t know each other that well at first so the process of finding out everything possible about the other was quite fun and really made both of you forget about the stressful part of your daily lives. At first, you had expected that Kise was your typical playboy who’d just confess to anyone who met his preferences, but as time went on you actually saw past those prejudices of yours and were pleasantly surprised at how different he was than what you had imagined. He was a very caring, gentle, and nice guy who’d do anything to see you smile and hear you laugh or giggle. He made you feel like you were the only person in the entire world and that there was no one else he’d rather spent his time with than you. The surprises he prepared for you on special days such as Valentine’s Day or your own birthday were mind-blowing as well.

You of course made sure to always return that amount of love you’d received and his adorable reactions were the reason you felt like you’d fallen in love with him yet another time.

Everything was working out perfectly and the two of you were as happy as can be, but life, unfortunately, likes to ruin perfect moments like these...

The two of you were now third-years and Kise was slowly starting to think about his future plans, so he began taking on more modeling gigs during his free days, some of these even overlapped with the days on which you had planned a date. You were pretty understanding at first and even told him that you didn’t mind, but as these date reschedulings began occurring every single time it really made you sad. In fact, you were so sad that as soon as Kise mentioned having an upcoming free day you simply nodded and whispered a silent ‘I see.’

Nevertheless, you kept on visiting him during his basketball club’s training sessions and watched him steadily improve his performance with each passing day. His bright smile after every basket made your heart throb and a couple of weeks ago you would’ve interpreted it as a positive feeling but now? It simply pained you. Negative thoughts flooded your mind and is if that wasn’t enough, a group of his fangirls stormed the field moments after the referee had blown his whistle three times.

“Kise-kun, please look this way!!“

“Kise! Can you please sign my t-shirt?“

“C-Can I have your number please!“

Sights like these weren’t uncommon and you were used to ignoring them, knowing that Kise wouldn’t do anything that might upset you or his fans, but as of late situations such as these annoyed you. You sighed, stood up, and left the gym.

“(Y/N)! Wait up!“

At the sound of the familiar voice of your best friend, you obeyed his plea, turning back to the young man who was running up to you.

“Yukio! What’s wrong?”

He stopped right before you, greeting you with a small smile as he rubbed the back of his neck in slight discomfort.

“Is...Is something bothering you? Or more like...has everything been alright as of late? N-No that’s not it...Do you-”

“There’s no need to beat around the bush Yukio and you know it,” you say with a small smile as you gently bump your fist against his arm, “just tell me what’s been bugging you.”

He sighs in relief and you see how some tension leaves his shoulders as he asks you a rather surprising question: “I’ve noticed the tension between Kise and you, so tell me...what’s up with that? Do I need to step in and help you out with something?”

Yukio was quite perceptive, especially when it came to your and Kise’s relationship, he always made sure to keep up with your well-being since he knew how carried away your blond boyfriend could get. If it were any other occasion, you would’ve told your best friend what had bothered you so much, but now that you reflected on it, it seemed a rather meaningless reason for you to be upset over so you just shook your head lightly and brushed it off. Your counterpart on the other hand just squinted his eyes in suspicion but decided to let it go for now.

“Just make sure to tell him if something is worrying you, ok? Remember, communication is the key to every relationship.”

And with those wise words, he bid you farewell and jogged back to the gym...

“Hey...(Y/N)-cchi? Would you like to go on a date next Saturday?”

“..? Excuse me?”

The two of you looked into each other’s eyes with equally surprised expressions and not short after you both burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry Kise, I just didn’t expect you to invite me on a date, that’s all.“

Your boyfriend sat down next to you and took your hand in his own, gently caressing each of your fingers as he let his eyes roam around your facial features. Looking at him being that deeply lost in thought made you wonder just what was going through his mind. Usually, he’d try and avoid dating you in public or when it was still daytime because of the potential rumors and scandals it might start, so you couldn’t help but wonder just what brought this sudden change. With a rather sad-looking smile, he brought your hands to his lips and gently kissed your knuckles, his action causing your cheeks to redden ever so slightly.

“Hehe, sorry (Y/N)-cchi, it’s just...we haven’t been able to spend much time together and I need to tell you something important as well, so I thought that a date might be the best solution for this...”

Nothing he’d just said sounded good to you. Kise was rarely a person who’d organize something according to things he’d like to tell or discuss with you so the idea alone was a massive red flag for you. And yet, you couldn’t ignore the seriousness with which he’d approached you, so despite the uneasy feeling that was building up within you, you put on your best fake smile and nodded.

——

“Oh my god did you read today’s news?“

Stop it...

“I just can’t believe it and here I thought that he was a down-to-earth type of guy!“

But he is, I swear!

“You guys are exaggerating! He’s a playboy, you can see that from a mile away!“

N-No, you’re wrong!

“Did you guys actually know that these were actually some long-term fans of his from way back when he first debuted?“

So what...? I’m sure there must be some backstory to this...

“They could’ve at least picked a better and more hidden-away location than a love hotel right at the center of Shinjuku...“

Maybe they had a photo shoot around that area!

“Ugh, he makes me sick...and to think that I shared my book with him once.”

Please don’t say that...

“I feel sorry for his managers and teammates. Who knows what these poor souls have to go through because of this.“

T-That’s一

No matter how many corners you turned, stairs you climbed, or rooms you entered, everyone was talking about the same thing: Kise. The moment you had woken up, your phone was full of notifications, questions, and missed calls, but before you could even comprehend what was going on, one particular message had caught your attention.

♡ : I’m sorry (Y/N)-cchi but I won’t be coming to school today. This is all just a big misunderstanding...trust me

It was then that you had noticed the big headline of your phone’s news app:

MODEL KISE RYOUTA CAUGHT RED-HANDED! IS ONE NOT ENOUGH? Steamy adventures in front of Shinjuku’s most famous love hotel!

It had been such a massive slap to the face, that the entire morning was foggy to you, reality hit you the moment you had stepped on school grounds.

Gossip. Rumors. Lies. Disgust. Aggression. Madness. Sadness.

No matter how hard you tried to avoid any ill-meant word from your classmates, you just couldn’t escape. Your belief in the man whom you called your beloved, the one who promised you that you’d always be the one in his eyes, the same one who swore that this endeavor was nothing but a misunderstanding, was starting to waver.

Suddenly everything started to make sense.

His distant behavior towards you, the increasing amount of modeling gigs he took on, your surprise visits during his training that he’d loved so much went unnoticed and that important topic he wanted to discuss with you on your next date. Everything.

You felt how all those negative feelings you had accumulated during these past few months started to come forth. Just as you were on the verge of tears and wanted to do nothing but fall to your knees, scream and cry you came across Moriyama and Yukio.

“(Y/N)! There you are! How long do you think I’ve been looking for you?!”

The tall man alongside your best friend was quick to notice that you were quite distraught and immediately took a hold of his captain’s shoulder and squeezed it slightly. You truly appreciated that these two were looking for you and intended to calm you down or encourage you to think positively and rationally about this, but right now you couldn’t manage to listen to their kind and caring words, so you apologized, thanked them, and headed straight towards the rooftop, the place where Kise had confessed to you.

As if on cue, your phone began vibrating and as you looked at the screen you saw that the incoming call was from no other than the man who’d been on your mind since the early morning.

“K-Kise...?”

“(Y/N)-cchi! Thank god, you picked up! I’m sorry for the short and sinister message this morning, but I had to clear some things with my managers first bef-“

“So your image was once again more important, huh?”

“W-What...?”

Before you could stop yourself from saying something you’d regret later, your mouth was unfortunately quicker.

“Lately I hardly recognize you, Kise, it’s as if you’ve become an entirely different person. First, you confess your love to me all sheepishly, blushing from head to toe, then you treat me like I’m the center of the world and the only reason you live for, but as of late you’ve been prioritizing your work more than our joint time. I tried to be understanding, I really did, but if you asked me out just so that you could fulfill some kind of goal and boast to whoever with it, then I’m really the wrong person for this.”

Nothing but silence came from the other end of the line, so you took this as a sign to continue.

“Listen, Kise, I don’t need nor expect you to adore me as if I’m some kind of deity, but I at least would like to know what the backstory to today’s tabloid news meant...and I sincerely hope that you aren’t going to trot out some lame excuse because I wouldn’t be able to handle it.“

“...(Y/N)“

“I’ll see you this Saturday Kise.“ you whispered as you ended the call without waiting for his answer.

——

You looked at yourself in the mirror, dreading what this date would mean for your future with the blond young man. The entire week-long you had deliberately avoided him in order to keep your thoughts as rational as you could and not let them get influenced by neither your feelings for him nor the supporting words of your friends. It was hard to ignore the guilty and worried stares he sent your way and whenever you saw the vicious glares others gave him, it really tugged at your heartstrings, but somehow you managed to withstand any possible temptation.

During the bus drive to the city center, you once again looked at the screenshot you took of the article that had caused you so much despair over the past few days. The blurry photo showed a tall blond man who was without a doubt Kise, trapping some girl whose face was covered by pixels between himself and the wall of the love hotel while the second one was pulling on his dark blue jacket, the same one which you had given him as his last year’s birthday present. Judging by the image alone it did look like Kise and the two girls were on their way to the rather flashy establishment, but your boyfriend couldn’t quite hold himself back and decided to start on the fun beforehand.

Cheating, huh...?

You bit your lip and thought about it. A famous and perky guy like him already had a stable fangirl club that followed him at each step so him feeling tempted during your time as a couple wouldn’t have surprised you in the slightest and yet it pained you so much that you could’ve started crying right then and there in front of all the other people that were sitting in the bus with you.

The city was brimming with people left and right, exiting and entering shops and restaurants. Today should’ve marked a happy occasion since it was the first public date the two of you had ever planned while the streetlights were still off. You had agreed to meet right in front of a small cafe that was close to the station and wasn’t one of the popular hangout spots so that you could at least have some sense of privacy. Each step you took fueled your anxiety of what was about to come and no matter how many deep breaths you took, you just couldn’t calm your raging heart down.

You finally saw a blond head sticking out among the crowd and just as you were about to raise your hand and wave to him, you halted. Kise was apparently not alone and had come alongside yet another girl who was constantly clinging to his arm, trying to get him to move.

“What did I even expect...?”

The crowd before you started to disappear and the two of them finally came into full view, but so did you. His yellow eyes met with your glassy ones and you could immediately see how regret and sorrow distorted his already distressed face.

“(Y/N)-cchi, wait...i-it’s not what it looks like..!”

You felt something warm fall down your cheeks and without paying it any mind you simply turned around and began walking back where you came from. Kise’s desperate calls for you to wait up were ignored and whenever his voice seemed too close to you, you sped up but he was too persistent. Despite the dense crowd you constantly walked amongst he never lost track of you.

(Y/N)-cchi! Please wait!

It’s all a misunderstanding, I promise you!

Listen to me, please!

(Y/N)!

You were trying to isolate his desperate pleas to such an extent that you hadn’t noticed the park you had just walked in. There were barely any people who strolled around this small yet beautiful piece of nature. The thought of elderly people walking their pets here, children running around and couples occupying the benches made you imagine just what excellent spot this would’ve been for a proper first date...

The young man behind you had used the time you were lost in thoughts to close the distance between you, but as soon as had returned from your small daydream and noticed how close he was to you, your body involuntarily urged you to run. And you did.

N-No, wait...!

You were fully aware of what you were doing, and you felt terrible for it. Kise’s leg had been injured for quite some time and he was told to not overdo it, which meant that he had to renounce running for most of the time so that he had enough energy and leg power left for his basketball matches.

And yet why..?

Why was he running after you as if his life depended on it? As if it was the last point his team needed for victory? Why?

You stopped sprinting and swiftly turned around. The man who had been an arm’s reach from you didn’t expect your sudden halt and collided with you, but luckily he caught you just before you lost your footing and pulled you towards his heaving chest. His trembling arms wrapped around your body and tightened their grip.

“Finally...”

The way he hugged you made all the wonderful and sweet memories of your life with him came up, leaving you with no other option but to return his embrace with the same amount of love.

“Kise...are you crazy? Why did you start running after me with your injured leg?” you asked after a short while and even though your question was intended to sound like a lecture, it ended up having a worrisome tone instead.

“This small amount of pain is nothing compared to the pain I made you feel these past few weeks.”

A small smile adorned your lips, but at the same time, you had to continuously think about all the things that had happened in this week alone, causing your smile to vanish almost immediately. You wanted answers and you needed them now.

“Kise, please...I want you to-“

“Explain. Yes, I know.” he interrupted and slowly backed up, looking you directly into your eyes.

After he’d taken hold of your hands, he began by defusing the situation that had transpired some mere seconds ago. The girl that was tugging on him was apparently a fan of his who’d drunk one too many beers. She’d unintentionally run into him and had almost lost her balance, but as caring as he was he held onto her and that’s when she had found out his true identity. Kise tried to keep her as silent and calm as possible, but that was easier said than done. The moment you had arrived was when she had started pulling his clothes, pleading him to come to her house and sign all of her merch.

“So about that article...on that day we had a photo shooting in Shinjuku and I was asked to take a break so I wandered about and that’s when two girls came from the love hotel. I wasn’t disguised so they immediately recognized me and tried to ask me out and whatnot. They were so persistent that I told them about you...they thought I was lying and then...”

You saw his sudden change in demeanor, his jaw muscles had tensed up and his grip on your hands was harder than earlier. Kise was rarely mad at something or someone, but what you saw before you, that anger and unspoken hatred were a first for the normally cheerful young man.

“They began insulting you, saying how you were together with me just because of my looks and nothing more. How dare they talk you down to their level? Just who do they think they are?!”

You expected any random excuse but seeing him get so worked up for your sake made your heart ache and now that you knew the backstory, the pictures made more sense. Your lover explained that he’d lost his temper and had pushed the girl who’d trash-talked you against the wall, warning her to keep her mouth shut before he really lost it. Meanwhile, her friend had tried to get him away from her by pulling on his jacket, and apparently, that’s when one of the passersby shot the photo. He took a short break after telling you that and then out of nowhere he brought his face closer to your own.

“(Y/N)-cchi...that’s not all. Do you remember our phone call when you told me that I’ve changed?“ he asked and waited for your confirmation before continuing, “...well the reason I didn’t call you first and had to deal with my manager is that we considered making my relationship with you public.”

“Wh-What...?“

“I’ve had enough of people trying to flirt with me and not believing when I say that I’ve found the perfect partner already. You see...graduation is just a few months away and after that I wanted to concentrate more on our relationship, hoping that maybe you’d like to...to live together with me.“

If you weren’t shocked enough before then his proposal just know had given you the finishing blow. Your heart was beating so fast and so loud that you feared he could’ve heard it.

“Was...was this the reason you took on so many jobs?”

He noded in embarrassment. “I wouldn’t feel confident enough to propose such an idea when it seems so far away and unrealistic, so I wanted to gain some sense of stability and independence before I asked you.”

Kise continued his explanation, but you didn’t catch most of it since you were so lost in your thoughts. The man before you had taken so many overtime shifts, had sacrificed so many of your dates, had gotten himself in a scandal for your sake, and yet here you were doubting him and doing something so childish like running away from him. You bit your lower lip and jumped into his arms, silently apologizing to your lover for your presumptuous behavior. He simply returned your embrace and kissed your temple.

Sometimes, misunderstandings such as these do have their benefits...

[biot08]

Preaching to the choir

*long, long before the events of the ARR, before her adventuring career:*

Rayford Portier was reaching the end of recounting the things that he wished to bring to Ser Vauban’s attention regarding the current state of everything he had felt affected the little fort in Coerthas. There was much; despite the lack of importance of the family’s name, the fort was still a critical outpost in the Dragonsong war, and the patrol routes that left it regularly covered a large area. He had mentioned the need for certain supplies, had brought in letters that would need to be distributed, and the skywatcher’s early reports for the upcoming season. But at last, he found he could finally no longer avoid the news he was not looking forward to relaying. “…and, ah, your father sends word of one last bit of business.”

He did not continue talking. Zoissette had spent much of the meeting busying herself with the watch schedule, her pen scribbling names into slots. She was paying attention, and the break in the flow of Rayford’s speech did not go unnoticed. Her writing slowed as she finished writing one last name for now, and she gently stuck the feathers of her quill into her mouth before slowly looking up with a head tilt. Rayford simply fixed her with a steady gaze. She reached over, and placed the pen back into its ink pot, and she sat up.

“The Inquisition intends to make an appearance at the closing of the next moon.”

The two looked at each other. Zoissette drew a long breath in and then let it out slow. She leaned forward, and clasped her hands tightly together on the desk. She had been at the fort for a bit over five seasons. During that time, she had seen and participated in several skirmishes. She had taken care of her people as best as she was able with the meager budget a lesser house could spare. The fort was important enough to be manned, but not at all glamourous. It was sticks duty. There would be no chance for young up and comings to make their name out here, mostly rebuffing scouting parties. It was a duty that was tolerated as necessary, but not celebrated, and gaining the trust of the soldiers and support staff had required simply showing up and doing the work. No speeches. No lectures. No preaching. Just showing up, and showing that she was simply there to do the job. And certainly no delusions of power (she didn’t have), delusions of holiness (she didn’t feel), nor displays of extravagance (she wouldn’t waste precious resources on).

She could feel it all fraying and coming apart under the heavy hand of the Holy See.

When she spoke, she drew out her words, enunciating fully, as though care of word indicated holiness of intent. “Have they said what cause of heresy they suspect?”

“None, ser. They claim this to be a routine visit. It has been some time since they have come out this way. Apparently, to hear your father retell it, they merely think now to be an opportune time. The astrologians believe this to be a point of a longer lull than usual in the fighting. The Holy See wishes to make an appearance. Do a few interviews. Make sure all is well, and when they find that it is, take the opportunity to… remind the soldiers who they fight for, and what they fight against.”

Rayford’s tone was politely neutral. It always was. A skill he practiced as he lived. Zoissette was pretty sure his idea of raising his voice was inflecting his syllables differently.

“I… see. Well, I doubt they will find anything here,” Zoissette said. There was an unspoken ‘I hope’ there. She was new yet, but not stupid. Heretics, if they were present, would certainly go to pains to keep themselves hidden.

“May I be free with my words, ser?”

“Always, Rayford. Always and particularly now.”

“The men and women will need to be told, but you should be careful with how you handle them in the coming weeks. This will be a delicate time. Many of them have had run ins with the Inquisition over their lives. All of them will have seen the Inquistion’s work at a distance. The work may be necessary, but it is often brutal, and even the most innocent and pious sort of man may see a hollow shadow behind him in the mirror when he hears that the inquisitors will be calling.”

Zoissette buried her face in her hands. “I know.”

~~~

The Sergeant at Arms stood over the practice pit, watching lancers and archers coordinate their attacks on the training dummies at the far end of the area. He was an old hyur, with gray grizzled hair and a scar on half his face. He had lost an ear and his good looks to a dragon early in his career, and like as not would be at the fort supervising others rather than being out on patrol. He did not care for that, but his experience was valuable, and he had the rare enough knack of teaching.

Zoissette liked him. He tolerated her. She knew that, and appreciated it for what it was.

He was now frowning at the news. Zoissette often would just stop in long enough to do turnover with him and then be on her way without getting in his, but this time, she lingered, watching him mull over the news, and wanting to be present should he have something to say about it.

He looked over at her, expression dark, and lowered his voice.

“Do they suspect heresy here, madam?”

She hated being called madam, but she let him get away with it. Again. Good teacher. Rare knack. And he didn’t let the others do it, so a minor loss for a better gain.

“No. Routine visit, they say. Just want to conduct interviews and remind us of our duties.”

The man’s scowl deepened, and he pointed at a pair of trainees that had slowed their advance. Once they were startled back into action, he turned to Zoissette.

“Ill news. Almost be easier if they had announced they had found heretics and were performing their investigation. Then my soldiers would have focus. They would not trust each other for a bit, sure, but I can work with that. As it is, they will be jumping at every shadow, jumping over each other to ‘prove’ their piousness. Discipline’ll improve, sure. Moral, though? It’s going to plummet. The next month is going to be hell.”

Zoissette sighed, and nodded. “I know.”

The two continued to discuss the realities of the situation and how to try to work through it, and then both returned their attention to their respective duties.

~~~

Zoissette was in the fort’s library. The fort was small, but it did have its library, and a reasonable selection of books. She was hoping to find a treatise on pole arm tactics.

Instead, as she turned away from the shelves empty-handed, she found one of the maids standing there, eyes downcast and hands folded in front of her. The woman was obviously in distress.

Odd. Usually the house staff would go to Rayford if they needed something.

“Esmerelda?”

“Y-yes madam. Knight! Knight ser. Ser. Yes, yes ser,” the woman stammered.

“Hey hey hey. Deep breath in, let it out slow, you’re okay, we’re okay.”

“Yes. Of course, ser. Yes ser. Begging your pardon, ser…”

The woman’s voice trailed off, becoming small. Zoissette clasped her hands behind her, and gave the woman her full attention. She suspected.

She was right.

“Ser, do we… do we have heretics, here, ser?”

Zoissette shook her head. “Not that I know. Look, it’s… it’s just a routine visit. Nothing to worry about. They say they just-“

The woman swallowed, hard, and stared at the floor. Zoissette fell silent, to let the woman have space to speak.

“My… my apologies, ser. This is hard for me. I … I am a good and pious woman, ser. I know I have nothing to fear from the Inquisition, ser. I know it. I … I KNOW it, ser. But… I want you to know it too, ser.”

Zoissette inwardly had to admit, that usually Rayford was the bridge between her and the staff, much as the Sergeant at Arms was the bridge between her and the non-noble soldiers. But this woman was clearly in distress, and it fell to her to be present. Zoissette nodded, and put a hand on the maid’s shoulder.

“Of course. I have never had cause to suspect.”

“I… I apologize, ser.. I just… it’s just… I came to House Vauban because I could no longer stand to stay at my previous house, ser. They found… they found heretics among the staff, ser. They… they chose to make an example of them, ser.”

The woman took several deep breaths, steadying her nerves, and then all of a sudden, her expression went dead, and her body seemed to fold in on itself.

“They put them to the sword in the courtyard, ser. I thought several of them my friends, ser. They ended it quickly, thank the Fury for small mercies, but… I am no soldier, ser. I am just house staff. I had seen death before of course. We all have. But this was different. I did not handle it gracefully. In the days and moons afterward, I could not see the courtyard without seeing … them. So I left, ser. Your family was kind enough to take me on, ser. It can be hard for a commoner to find good work if they leave their priors like I did, but yours took me on, and I am grateful, but…”

The woman’s voice trailed off. Zoissette tried a smile she hoped was reassuring and squeezed the maid’s shoulder. The maid looked up at Zoissette’s hand, and reached her own up, to touch it.

“I know I am out of line, ser. And I know the Inquisition is necessary ser. But I cannot forget that day, ser. I am a good and pious woman, I promise ser. I just… I just need you to know that.”

“I know,” said Zoissette.

~~~

“We’ve got a problem,” said Ser Jervoix.

Vauban was a minor house, and the fort was not an important one, but sometimes the other minor houses would pass around their knights, both as a show of mutual support and a way to expand the experience of their officer corps. The fort was not a prestigious outpost, and the work was not exactly easy, but it still had to be done. And that was how Zoissette had come to have another visiting noble who helped her. She had only been there for a season, and would only stay for another. She had been surly at first, but had steadily grown used to the situation, and while she was not a friend, she was at least reasonable to work with. So while Zoissette handled matters closer to the fort, being the face of the family, Gilda Jervoix had been leading patrols and managing the remote camp.

That she had come back early said much. That her first sentence was that said more. Zoissette nodded and gestured to the table nearby. The two sat, and Zoissette poured them both a cup of the customary mulled wine.

“One of our men spooked at the news of the Inquisition coming,” said Gilda. “When he went, several others abandoned their posts also.”

Zoissette groaned. “Heretics after all?”

“I am sure the Inquisition will suspect so, but no. I don’t think so. I spoke with the men. It took some asking around, and a bribe or two, but I learned much. The man who first ran was in a village that had unknowingly harbored heretics. They were apparently sneaking into an abandoned house using a tunnel system of some sort.”

“I think I recall hearing this news from my father. It’s one of those inspiring stories they like to tell. The heretics were found out because they were stealing from the villagers under cover of night. When the villagers investigated, they stumbled upon the heretics’ stash, finding both their stolen items and some draconic artifacts. Rather than handle the situation themselves, they pretended to ignore it. Notified the Inquisition.”

“I heard the same story, right. The Inquisition swept in, burned the heretics, and held the people of the town up as model citizens.”

“I feel like that story must be at least ten years old. What’s that have to do with our missing man?”

“That story is a just a little older than your guess. Older than I remembered, to be honest. Sixteen years ago, it made quite an impression on a certain eight year old who watched the house next to his get burned to the ground… with the people still inside.”

Zoissette sat back in her chair and stared at the ceiling, and groaned.

“As for the others, I think they were already skittish. If a man who was declared such a holy example from his youth feared the inquisition…”

“…what hope could they have. Yeah.”

Gilda looked at her drink.

“I know the work the Inquisition does is necessary. There are those who would tear down Ishgard, and do the same to us, if not worse. But should we not be better than them? Should we not be so… brutal?”

“I know,” said Zoissette.

“More may flee in the coming weeks. Maybe not permanently - I got news from one of the other holdings, in fact, that our man had been spotted on the road -to- Ishgard. I think he was merely hoping to not be here while the Inquisition is. Hard to say. But with him and the others gone… our patrols are thinner now. It’s going to be hard to fill out schedules. Like I said… we’ve got a problem.”

“I know,” Zoissette repeated, feeling a sinking weight in her chest.

~~~

Zoissette greeted the Inquistor at the door with a salute.

“Greetings, with all due respect from House Vauban. It is our privilege to host you at our holdings. Please, come in.”

The inquisitor walked into the fort, looking around, taking stock of his surroundings. He wore a coat, lined thick with sumptuous fabrics. Gold chains littered the outside of it, and various rosaries and other symbols of his holy office. His presence was unmistakeable, and he seemed fit to try to fill the space with himself.

He smiled warmly at Zoissette.

“Ah, Madam Vauban, Ser Knight. Thank you for receiving me.”

“Of course. We have prepared a meal for you, of course, that you may have at your leisure. If you are tired after your journey, our house servant, Rayford Portier, has already prepared a room for you. He is at your disposal for the duration of your stay, as, of course, am I.”

The inquisitor nodded, a faint smile on his face. “Of course, of course. Thank you, Madam Vauban. I trust that you, of course, understand the importance of our work out here. I will need to see your books, of course, so that I can schedule interviews with the people. I do not think I will find anything, but often you can find hidden truths that point, if not at a person, at least elsewhere. Diligence is the price we pay, and we will pay it in full.”

“I know,” said Vauban.

“And it is the hope of the Holy See that the men will find the site of one of us visiting even such a distant outpost will be inspiring. We care for them, after all, one and all. They will surely look upon this as a momentous occasion, as their purity is seen for the truth of itself, and be bolstered by knowing their own holiness demonstrated. Our purpose is for the glory of Ishgard, you know.”

“I know,” said Vauban.

“Good, good. Of course you do. All is well for now, then. I think I shall retire for the evening. I have been traveling all day, and we can start our work early, and fresh, tomorrow morning. This is good work that we will do, Madam Vauban,” the inquisitor said, offering Vauban a smile.

Zoissette returned the smile, but her eyes were cold, and her smile was brittle.

“I know,” she said.

[acomplexjourney]

Wound Care

A little over a month into the new year, I have been thinking about stories. Humans have been telling stories for as long as our species can remember. Our country has a story. Each individual has a story that she or he adds a little bit more to every day. And in medicine, we tell stories. On rounds in the hospital: “Mr. S. is a 78 year old male here with pneumonia. He said he slept well last night and is wondering if he can eat breakfast.” In family medicine clinic: “Ms. Y. no longer needs a wheelchair after her injury and is now walking steadily with a cane. She is wondering if she still needs to take her blood pressure medication.” As both winter and the pandemic hopefully near their ends, I have been taking some solace in trying to view my job as one not full of work, but full of stories. Here are a few stories from my two-week wound care rotation.

One morning, we saw a patient who had a venous ulcer on his left leg. The patient smiled though his mask when he saw Dr. K. and me enter the room. When Dr. K. scraped at the wound slightly, it started bleeding. Dr. K. swiftly took a piece of gauze and started holding pressure against the wound. “This looks like a job for a resident,” Dr. K. thought out-loud. He then commanded me to put on a glove and hold pressure against the wound. Dr. K. and the patient bantered for a while and the patient got his wound care instructions for the upcoming week. At the end of the visit, Dr. K. asked me to continue to hold pressure for five more minutes to ensure the wound stopped bleeding. Once I was alone in the room with the patient, he shared with me that his wife had passed away at the beginning of January. I expressed sympathy to the patient and even though we had only just met, he then spent the next five minutes telling me about his wife and her health problems toward the end of her life. I once again offered my condolences and the patient told me calmly that she was in a better place now. This encounter was a good reminder for me that one never really knows what another person is going through. Sometimes just being present with someone else is all it takes for them to open up to you.  

Mr. M. was a patient I saw for two visits during my rotation. He was a very pleasant 60 year old man paralyzed from the waist down who was being treated for a stubborn sacral ulcer that was taking an eternity to heal. The first time I saw him, Mr. M. was watching TV in a hyperbaric oxygen chamber. This machine is pretty cool, since it brings the patient to an increased atmospheric pressure, similar to deep sea diving. This allows for the delivery of 100% oxygen to the patient’s wounds. Normal air only has about 21% oxygen, so it is pretty amazing that most of the air we breathe on a normal day is not the critical molecule we need need to survive. Once Mr. M. had finished his hyperbaric oxygen treatment, he was wheeled to an exam room in his wheelchair bearing a U. S. Navy emblem on the back. So far in my medical training, I have observed that chronic illnesses can affect patients in one of two ways. They can become miserable people, lashing out at those around them. Or, in spite of their daily suffering, they inspire happiness in others. Mr. M. was definitely one of the latter types of patients. During his visits, Mr. M would always talk about the Bills or tell jokes. “Sorry about the stinging,” the wound care doctor said once as he was debriding the wound. Mr. M. replied, “that’s okay, I’m used to it. I’m married!”  

On another morning, Dr. C. shared with a patient that he was originally from Canada. Dr. C.’s mother grew up in Parry Sound, a small town located on the shores of Lake Huron. Parry Sound is known for being the birthplace of one of the greatest NHL players of all time. Bobby Orr was born and lived in Parry Sound until age 14, when he was signed by the Boston Bruins. Dr. C. shared that his mother was actually childhood friends with Orr’s older brother. The two of them would frequently play with and pick on Orr, since he was the youngest in the group. It turns out that patients are not the only ones with interesting stories to tell!  

Last but not least, it was great catching up with Cam, my former chief resident, who is now an attending!

PS- If you’d like to hear more stories, I highly recommend the Anthropecene Reviewed podcast by John Green. If you would prefer to read the stories from the podcast, it’s also soon to be a book!

[nurfhurdur]

Life’s Highway Ch. 53 - Heartbreak

AN: I was going to link it but figure I’ll post the whole thing, why not. This one is rough….on me anyway. 

Request on AO3, Lightning dealing with the loss of Doc. Part 1 of ?

Also! Everything I’ve ever written is humanized.

He’d never dealt with death before, it was something he had just never thought of, surprising when his career revolved around driving a vehicle at incredibly high and dangerous speeds. So because he’d never dealt with death and had never given the topic much thought, he’d therefor never given the causes of death much thought either.

Of course it wasn’t like he didn’t know it happened. No one lived forever and to think otherwise was both naive and idiotic, but the closest it had ever reached him had been headlines in the tabloids. Other celebrities. So and so passed at 81 due to complications of surgery, car accidents, plane accidents, illness, he understood that, but somehow when he was forced to face it for the first time he just couldn’t get a grasp on it, or when he thought he did he’d suddenly be left juggling the notion awkwardly until he was mentally and emotionally exhausted.

Why did his first experience with loss have to be Doc.

He supposed he should be thankful that it wasn’t so sudden. Well it had been sudden, but not blink of an eye sudden. He should be thankful it wasn’t that drunk driver that jumped the curb in front of the hotel down in Concord last fall, who’d hit two people before careening in to a street light only ten feet from where they’d been standing in an attempt to get some air after a long day of press conferences and signing autographs. Lightning had barely realized what was happening when he felt a rough hand yank him backwards, heard tires squealing, people screaming, and in .001 seconds witnessed Doc shift from crew chief to medical professional. He remembered standing awkwardly near one of the pedestrians, holding the phone in a shaky hand and speaking to a 911 dispatcher as he parroted whatever Doc told him. He’d had no idea what half of it meant but it had helped the responders who arrived on scene.

In that moment he’d actually forgotten Doc was ill.

He’d forgotten it rather frequently in the course of those seventeen months.

Had it really only been seventeen months?

Lightning would get so caught up in their usual routine that for days or weeks at a time he would forget there was anything wrong. Or maybe he’d been forcing himself to forget, because there were times when that knowledge would crash through the wall he’d worked so hard to put in place. With blinding force, that fear and anticipation of the worst would jump that barrier and slam in to those weak defenses, scrape across his senses like metal on pavement, send chills down his spine and leave deep grooves and gouges, raw and open and bleeding. It had and still left him with an unexplainable sense of detachment from the rest of the world. How could they keep going when they all knew nothing was ever going to be the same. How do you live day to day knowing that the hands on the clock were slowing down. How could you just wait for them to stop.

In those days when he could forget, though, those blissfully ignorant afternoons at the Butte, he would forget the large brown envelope he’d found on the desk and took the liberty to open. It had looked official enough to pertain to the upcoming season, and everything sent to Doc was always addressed Jesse A. Hudson M.D.

Except it had nothing to do with Piston Cup.

The forms he’d glanced at before shoving them back in to the folder had been filled with terms he didn’t understand, didn’t want to understand, but he’d spent enough time hanging around in the clinic in the off seasons to recognize some of it. He could only sit around so long before he’d pull those text books off the shelves in boredom. One of his favorite pass times had been flipping to random pages, finding the most ridiculous and bizarre medical facts and try to stump Doc, which of course never worked. In doing so, it was hard not to pick up a few things here or there…

He’d stomped through to the garage, intent on throwing a tantrum that would put his rookie year to shame but when he finally did find his mentor, his crew chief, his father, he’d only thrown the envelope on the old desk and glared at him with tear filled eyes.

Doc, for his part, had only regarded the offending parcel in silence from where he stood at the work bench.

“You weren’t going to tell me, were you? You weren’t going to tell anyone.”

Doc had allowed him to rant and rave and vent his frustration over being kept in the dark and Lightning couldn’t tell in that moment whether he was angry at Doc’s silence or that expression of calm that had refused to break in the face of his verbal assault.

One of his most vivid memories of the whole ordeal was how much his fingers hurt when he’d held on to the back of Doc’s shirt, how hot his face felt and the painful sting in his eyes when the tears had finally spilled over, of how there didn’t seem to be anything wrong, there was no sign of frailness or illness when Doc had finally cut off his tirade with a crushing embrace and a muttered I’m sorry, Kiddo.

It had all started after the race in New York. Wet and cold and raining for the majority of the weekend, minus the race somehow, just about everyone had come down with some form of bronchitis or the flu. With Radiator Springs back on the map, the population had been steadily growing and so had the amount of patients at the clinic. Lightning remembered being wowed with some of the new equipment and despite his own heavy chest cold, he’d asked a thousand questions about the mobile x-ray machine.

“Yeah, it’s great.” Doc hadn’t exactly sounded thrilled, but it might have been because while he was being granted the latest and greatest equipment, he still didn’t have the technicians to use the equipment, at least in the case where he’d needed it for himself.

“You could always walk me through it.” Lightning had provided. “It can’t be that hard.” The very idea that an x-ray machine could send images to a tablet wasn’t exactly science fiction to him. It was more the fact that Doc could use a tablet that was the strange part.

“This thing costs more than you make in a year. Don’t even look at it.”

“Why do we need x-rays?”

“You don’t. You have a cold.”

“Then who needs it?”

“It’s illegal to share that kind of information.”

Through process of elimination, Lightning had figured out it was Sarge, who had actually come down with pneumonia.

Because the clinic had no technicians, Doc had been forced to travel for his own diagnosis, which Lightning had just looked at as a field trip, complaining both ways that if Doc had just allowed him to use the mobile machine they would have saved an entire day’s worth of driving. He’d been a little surprised when Doc mentioned going back a month or so later, he hadn’t been nearly as bad off as some of them but only shrugged when Lightning questioned him and offered a vague explanation that they only wanted a follow up.

It was more than a follow up.

What little Lightning had gathered from the forms he’d mistakenly opened, told him that something far more serious had been discovered through the course of the illness that had swept it’s way through the pit crew.

It wasn’t pneumonia or bronchitis, he hadn’t even been able to bring himself to say it, let alone think it. It was a zodiac sign you looked up in the paper to read your horoscope, it was a constellation, the Latin word for crab. It was harmless when considered in that context…

But in those moments he couldn’t just forget, when he was forced to face the facts in those lonely hours at night, when the shadows crept in and his defenses were at their weakest, he’d sway dangerously between fear and anger. Fear of the unknown, fear of knowing that eventually there’d come a time when he’d look up at that pit box and Doc wouldn’t be there.

He wasn’t real sure on how the grieving process worked and he wasn’t desperate enough to google it yet, but he did know that he’d then get angry, because his crew chief (father) was such a walking contradiction that Lightning sometimes couldn’t even come close to understanding his logic. How could someone finally open up and tell such fond stories of people they’d abandoned for fifty years but then make no attempt to return to old stomping grounds. How could a Medical Doctor completely ignore their own failing health but badger him over his own.

How could Doc refuse treatment.

That’s what had hurt him the most, when his ranting and crying and confusion had finally mellowed and he’d gotten himself under control (days later) he’d asked in a conversational tone when treatments would start, because he’d planned to be part of it all.

“Season starts in two months, there’s no time for that.”

Doc had replied in a tone that suggested the conversation was over and of course Lightning had other thoughts on the matter. He’d put up a fight at times in the past, usually coming across more as banter with a suggestive edge behind it but this had turned in to a full blown argument, two hard headed individuals facing off and colliding head on, the way only extremely egotistical Piston Cup Champions could.

Doc had refused to back down, in the same way he refused to back down on anything. “I’ve seen what that does to a person, Hot Rod, and I am not spending whatever time left putting myself through that.”

That had been the end of it, and Lightning never brought it up again.

Web MD was not his friend, and if Doc ever noticed any of his text books missing at any given time he never said anything.

It was months after that argument that he would forget. When the season started they had fallen in to the usual routine and everything seemed to have returned to normal. Or maybe it was just a new normal. It would only creep up on Lightning at random, in the middle of a conversation with the guys or after getting settled in to whatever hotel room he was put up in. Most often it was in those moments where he was able to spend too much time in his own head.

He’d gotten in to the habit of checking his phone, even more frequently than he used to. He’d started sending text messages more often, even if Doc was only in the room across the hall. He could almost feel the initial irritation seeping through the phone the first half of that year, and he was sure those replies that didn't come back until 4:00 AM and caused him to dig around for his phone blearily were more out of spite than anything else.

But then, after about six months, it had almost become an unspoken agreement between them. Instead of his constant harping and questioning on his crew chief’s well being, he’d simply send a text, it was Lightning’s way of checking in without checking in.

(6:42 AM) Press conference at 8?

Generally meant Ok?

Doc (6:45 AM) 7:30 Don’t be late.

Always meant Doing fine, Kiddo.

It had become the new normal and while he hadn’t been sure how long that normal would last, he’d made sure to make the best of it.

[prevazilazenje]

PERSONAL STORIES:

My Father’s Demonic Possession

[date unknown, est. early 1990’s]

_

Dear Rev. [name withheld],

_

I trust after the several conversations and/or communiques you have had with my mother, [name withheld], that you will recognize my name and will be familiar at least somewhat with my situation. I am writing to you for several reasons: first, to give you the background of me and my husband; second to give you as much detail on my situation as possible; and third to ask, no to PLEAD for the the prayers of you and your church members in the upcoming weeks, because I feel I am to have a battle with the forces of Satan such as I never imagined I would see. I feel somewhat strange in asking help from strangers, yet I am forced to turn this way because no one else I know has had any knowledge or experience in the area of demonology.

_

To begin with, the relationship of my husband and I began on the wrong foot. When we began going together, he was married. He assured me that the marriage had ended long before he ever knew me. As a Christian, I felt guilty about the relationship, but after a while gave into my desires, and while he was still married he and I began living together, and eventually had a baby. Even though I know this was wrong, I know it had been forgiven under the blood of Christ. Also, when we began going together I prayed in ernest about the relationship, because I figured since I was inexperienced in such matters, I was only infatuated with him, rather than in love, even though we had a tremendous amount in common. The answer I received was “Go in peace, child. I have sent him.” I asked him all the right questions as to whether or not he had been born again, and every indication was that he had been. There were however, a few drawbacks. He had a reputation as a womanizer (or rather as someone who was “free with his charms”), and he also had a history of mental illness, another area in which I was a complete novice. Also, he was the survivor of a major heart attack. His doctor told him that most victims of heart attacks as serious as his do not live longer than about five years. Two had already passed. So I rationalized that perhaps God wanted us together so that I could be a help to him and make whatever days he had left as happy and fulfilling as possible. I further found out that his mental illness had been diagnosed some twenty or so years earlier as psychosis by one doctor and as paranoid schizophrenia by another. I have, until this most recent set of circumstances, felt the latter was the case. I would also tend to classify him as a sociopath, but every once in a while, bits of conscience “leak out.” When I first met him he was a warm, kind, loving, caring, generous, fun, though reserved individual. Since then his emotional state has gone steadily and rapidly downhill, as has mine because I have developed such a close emotional bond with him. Whenever he gets depressed, I get depressed. Whenever he gets angry, I get angry and so on. He has considered suicide on several occasions as have I, something I never did before meeting him. Recently, though, I feel that all of these things can be directly attributable to demonic possession.

_

During our time together, he has on many occasions cursed and blasphemed God, used profanity that would make a sailor blush, and because of his actions, I have unfortunately allowed my faith to erode to the point where it is almost nonexistent. I, too, have found myself cursing, doubting, questioning, and swearing. It is shameful behavior, but I seem unable to turn the tide. As for his personal background, my husband had his funeral directors and embalmers license. He had served two tours of duty in Vietnam with military intelligence. He was a fireman as a very young man, and for the last 22 years of his life before I knew him, he was a police officer. He was always someone that people respected, someone who people gave a great deal of authority to. He was someone who always rose quickly to a level of command. As a policeman, he attained the level and rank of assistant chief, and his cases included all the gory, grisly, oddball cases that no one else wanted to handle, i.e. suicides, murders, occult cases, etc.

_

About two and a half months ago, I had a nightmare that my family and I were staying in a dormitory setting for who knows what reason. Anyway, in the middle of the night I had gone to check on the children and when I returned, I heard a voice coming from our room that I didn’t recognize. I thought that my husband was talking with someone. When I saw no one in the room, I approached the bunk and called my husband’s name. He turned over and glared at me with an unholy look and growled something at me. I shouted something to the effect of “Satan, leave us alone! Get out of here!” I related the story to my husband, who shrugged it off as just another weird dream.

_

Within the week, however, we had gone to bed after one of the many fights that have ruined our marriage. After about five or ten minutes in bed, I said to him, “Can I ask you some questions?” No response. I assumed he was already asleep. About five minutes later, a very low, angry voice said, “What do you want?” I didn’t answer because I was angry at myself. “Well, what do you want, woman? You summoned me up now what do you want?” I said, “Are you trying to scare me? Are you trying to prey on my nightmares?”

“What’s a nightmare?”

“You know, a frightening dream.”

“There’s no such thing as a nightmare.”

“In that case, we have nothing to discuss.”

“Then I’ll go back to where I came from.”

After about five minutes, my husband got up, went to the bathroom, got a drink, etc. All very normal behavior for him. I asked him about the conversation and he said that I had been dreaming again, and that he had no recollection of any such conversation. I dismissed it as either him talking in his sleep, or him playing some kind of “mind game” with me, one of which I wanted no part.

_

More recently, though, things have taken a more serious and frightening turn. About 6-8 weeks later, we had been in bed for again, 5-10 minutes, when he said, “Do you want to talk?”

“Why, is something on your mind?”

“I don’t have a mind.”

I dismissed it as one of his wisecrack answers, so I said, “Well, that fact aside, what would you like to talk about?”

“I must leave this man. He’s become a very dull person.”

Please note that on this evening, we were not angry with each other. The request by him was out of character, and the fact that he was referring to himself in the third person caught my attention immediately. Since the last conversation, I had read a small booklet on demon possession, but neither of us gave much credence to the fact that it could actually apply to him. However, on this occasion I took the matter very seriously. I began talking to it as if there were indeed another person in the room and we were talking about my husband. The spirit asked me to locate and burn a book called “The Spirits Book.” I said I didn’t know of any such book, but that I would ask him about it.

“He has it somewhere. It’s a book with a red cover and is smaller than the others. It’s put out by the Rosacrucians.”

“Ben Franklin was a Rosacrucian, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, I believe he was. There are a few others that will work if you can’t find The Spirits Book. One is Oahspe, one is called Man of Sorrows.”

Both of these I recognized, but there were several others that I didn’t recognize.

“What will happen if I burn the book?”

“I will be able to rise with the smoke and leave his body.”

“What happens if he dies before I burn the book?”

“I will be caught between worlds.”

“Are my children or I in any danger?”

“No, I have no interest in you. You are of no use to me.”

“How did you happen to be in my husband’s body?”

“I entered on the death of [name withheld].”

“You mean Father [name withheld]?”

“I guess you could call him that.”

[name withheld] was an old German priest who taught at the boys school where my husband went. According to my husband, this priest was very knowledgeable about the occult and had an extensive collection of grimoires and occult books. He also said that when he (my husband) was in the eighth grade, [name withheld] conjured the devil right before his eyes because he had said that he didn’t believe in the devil. He thought it was just a scare tactic used by nuns and priests to get kids to mind. Again, about five minutes after he finished talking, my husband awoke and denied any recollection of the conversation. He felt that I had either dreamed the whole thing or made it up. That’s when I called you.