#have the past few times ive posted also been weekend afternoons? i think so

[ritoryb]

[emptymasks]

I’ve seen a lot about your thoughts on Elisabeth and Tanz der Vampire, and they’ve been really helpful getting into those musicals! But you have a huge list of other musicals that people can get into…

So I was wondering if you had any musicals you hadn’t mentioned in a while that you really like or would like to talk about??? (preferably something from your lists that has a blue heart please?)

Oh if only you knew how long the list of European musicals really is... I however have only seen 9 (if I counted right) and I have a lot more that I still need to watch. Oh also, I only put the blue hearts on any musicals that I was providing multiple links for so people could see which version I reccoment the most highly. If a musical only had one link and didn't have a blue heart it doesn't mean I didn't like it.

I've watched: Mozart das Musical, Elisabeth das Musical, Tanz der Vampire, 3 Musketiers, Mozart L'Opéra Rock, Dracula (the Graz production), Rebecca das Musical, Roméo et Juliette and Schikaneder.

If you enjoyed those two you're likely to enjoy Rebecca! It's written by the same composer/lyricist team as Elisabeth and Mozart (and same lyricist as Tanz der Vampire - though if you're listening to any German musical, original or translated, 90% of the time the lyrics will have been done by Michael Kunze that man is everywhere). The Stuttgart production has my favourite set design of any musical! Well... Actually probably. There are so many big set pieces it's insane, way more than I've seen in some Broadway and West End musicals. You can tell so much work went into it and the visual effects that I won't spoil if you don't know the plot but if you know the plot you know what I mean by the effects at the end are so good and I didn't expect them at all and I freaked out so much the first time I watched it. Jan Ammann as Maxim in the Stuttgart production is the best Maxim. No I won't take any argument. Other actors feel a bit one-dimensional to me, but the way Maxim acts at times comes from trauma and some actors and productions seem to forget that, but Jan really goes for it and his Maxim is a lot more sympathetic and I just want to give him a hug. Pia Douwes as Mrs Danvers, if you've seen her in Elisabeth what more do I need to say, she's amazing. A musical goddess. Her Danny is a bit more wild than some, but she kills it. My favourite video, which I put the blue heart next to, has understudy Christina Patten as Ich/I, but I adore her she's my favourite. She adds some spunk to Ich in act 2 and her voice is so pretty and aaaa. I just love these three actors together in these roles.

Roméo et Juliette is another favourite of mine! It's hard to choose which one to recommend, but it has to be the original 2000/2001 production because of the sweetness and chemistry and voices of Damien Sargue and Cecilia Cara as Romeo and Juliet. They're so pretty and work together so well. The only reason I say it's hard to pick is Mercutio. I adore him, but in the original production they cut out a song they had planned for him and he doesn't really do much at all? In the 2010 revival they gave him two more songs and you care about him so much more and John Eyzen plays such a good Mercutio. So I'd recommend the original but if you want to like Mercutio more, which you should he's amazing, I'd recommend watching at least clips of John's. It's an interesting musical because all productions are non-replica and also change around the order of songs, add or take away characters, all sorts. The Hungarian production is also very popular and I'm sure it's great, I just haven't' gotten around to watching it yet.

Mozart das Musical was the first non-English language musicals I watched so I have a fondness for it, but it's not my favourite. However, I do realise I have forgotten most of the songs and the few I've gone back and listened to are better than I remember.

Dracula isn't super popular and I understand why, I don't love the plot of the Dracula/Mina romance in it, however. I do love this musical because despite how I find the plot lacking, the songs are so good! At least, I love them. And the actors are all doing a great job. And it's one of the few Dracula adaptions to keep Quincy Morris so they get bonus points for that.

Mozart L'Opéra Rock and modern French musicals... This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but they're often more like pop-rock operas now. So if you're not into musicals with that style of music it might not be for you, but I still enjoyed it even though I didn't think I would because of the style of music. Mozart and Salieri's chemistry is very good, Salieri's bisexual crisis song is iconic, actually all of Salieri's songs are iconic.

Schikaneder... eh. I didn't like it that much and I didn't really like any of the songs. There's no English subtitles, but someone sent me the entire English synopsis and I watched it with a German friend so I had double the help of understanding it. Doesn't mean others might not like it, just none of the songs stood out to me and I had no desire to listen to any of them again. It's by Steven Scharwz of Wicked fame and I love Wicked, but I didn't love this.

3 Musketiers!! God it's so underrated and not spoken about within the European musical fandom that I even forget about it and literally forgot to write about it earlier in this post. It's a Dutch musical (though did also have a German production) and it's really good!? Faces you might know are Pia Douwes as Milady de Winter, Stanley Burlseon as Cardinal Richeliu (Netherlands Der Tod in Elisabeth), Henk Poort as Athos (Netherlands Phantom and Jean Valjean). The dialgoue is funny, the songs are good, some of the set pieces have no right to exist in this tiny musical?? They made this giant boat and pelt the actors with rain just for one 5 minute song and then we never see the boat again? And while I recommend the Dutch one because Dutch musicals deserve more love and it has official English subtitles!! Official ones, not fanmade! I have the DVD and it comes with English subtitles (and Dutch and German subtitles) which is so nice. The German version is also good, good cast, Pia came back and Uwe Kroger as Richeliu and omg they rearranged the songs and the German arrangement of Nicht Aus Stein is insane and amazing and frankly iconic.

That's all of the ones I have watched. Next on my list to watch are Rudolf and Notre Dame de Paris, both of which I have listened to some songs from and already love (I've listened to way too much of Notre Dame de Paris and am so in love).

I want to start organising streams where I'll host the musical either by getting the video from Youtube or my own files and anyone who wants to join can come along and watch with us, chat with us if you want or just watch there's no pressure to chat. I thought about doing weekly streams? This would also make me finally watch some of the ones I've been meaning to for ages. But I keep wondering about time zones. I'm in the UK and would want to stream at about 11pm at the latest (11pm BST/GMT+1 as we’re in daylight savings at the moment, if the streams continue past the end of October which would be wild then I’ll make a note of the time change that would be to 11pm GMT), which I know can work for other UK and Europeans, but for any Americans would be in the afternoon. So, I wondered if doing it on a weekend would be better? Then it doesn't matter if it's in the afternoon? Maybe Saturday evenings then? It would either be Saturday evenings UK time or Friday evenings UK time. What do you guys think? If people are down then I'll make a separate post with a list of what we'll be watching each week and if anything happens to me that means I can't stream one week then everything will just get pushed back a week, but I don't see that as likely to happen. And I'll only be streaming those that have English subtitles, so don't worry about not being able to understand anything.

edit: am also open to 10pm bst if others want that, im just trying to think of what time works best for everyone so sorry if 11pm is a little late for europeans, i know 10pm could be a little early for americans. also in case it sounded like these are the only musicals i will be streaming, thats not so, ive got more than just the ones mentioned on this list!

(Tagging some people who I know are or might be interested in streams to see what you think of that plan: @sirona-art @ringwraith100 @tanz-der-trash @smilingwoland @the-weird-dane @witchgaye @ami-fidele @kisstheghouls @looking-4-happiness @ladysapphire928 @sloanedestler @tinywound @persephonaae @phoenixdewinter @uwucoffee @freshbloodandgothicism )

[pixie88]

Delilah

Chapter 1 - Alone - Third A&E Series.

A/N: I originally posted this on a side blog but I was having trouble switching between the two and I also didn’t want to start again. As I said there this A&E series is a lot more darker, hitting RL subjects I have been through myself please don’t judge me as you can’t make me feel an worse than I have made myself in the past. The stigma around these subjects are real and so many people don’t speak out about them. Friends and family don’t even know the secrets I will reveal in these chapters as I am ashamed and worry about what they will think. I hope this helps even just one person realise they aren’t alone. I hope you like it 😘

I’m not going to annoy people with re-tags, so I’m not tagging in these first two chapters as most my usual tags have read it.

Find previous chapters HERE under Together - Adam & Ellie.

Word count: 1905

WARNINGS: ⚠️ Angst & adult language.

Pairings: Adam x Ellie.

Enjoy!

A Year and a half after the last chapter of A&E Together.

"She's beautiful, Ellie! A girl! We have a little girl," she looks over to him feeding their daughter. All the panic and worry was worth it! She thought to herself as she's getting stitched up.

16 week's earlier.

This pregnancy had been harder on her than Charlie's, her morning sickness had carried on until 24 weeks, she was in pain with her hips and back. Adam made her give up work at 32 weeks. She was reluctant, but knew he was right, plus at home, she could do more research on shops for sale in London.

By the time she had hit 36 weeks she had found the perfect shop, they had a cheeky weekend away in London to view the property while Ellie's mum had Charlie for them. Being heavily pregnant they didn't do much sight seeing, but they did spent a lot of time tangled beneath the sheets in the hotel room. This would probably be the last time in a long time they would have time alone, so they wanted to make the most of it. 

When they arrived back home Ellie had to sort out the internal and external work. She had put in an offer and was in the proceeds of owning the new shop being, so close to the end of her pregnancy Adam took over all the dealings of the new shop not wanting his wife stressed. 40 weeks Ellie woke on her due date irritated and fed up with being pregnant their little lady showed no signs of wanting to come out.

That afternoon Ellie was in the bathroom when she thought her water had broken, looking down at the floor, she was expecting to see clear waters but instead she saw crimson red puddles of blood. She calls out to Adam who was downstairs soon rushed up to his panicked wife. Shock grew on his face as he saw what had her so panicky. He quickly regained his composure, trying not to worry his heavily pregnant wife.

Adam quickly called her midwife who told them to head to the hospital after dropping Charlie at Elaine's door. He helped an hysterical Ellie into the car. On the way her contractions started they were very close together so when they arrived, he practically had to bridal carry her out to the car with her bag to the labour ward where they handed him a wheel chair. Once in the delivery suite and after a few puffs of gas and air Ellie start to calm down she was so mellow that she wasn't even bothered when the doctor took a sample of her blood, she usually hated blood tests but the gas and air had worked its magic.

When the doctor came in Ellie was completely out of it. Between contractions, she was drifting, those few seconds between each one felt like heaven "Sorry, did you say your name is Doctor Curry? I bet you had the korma taken out of you at school!" she laughs at her own joke, then apologizes when she realised what she had said "Don't worry, I know it's the gas and air talking believe me, I've had worse. We are just going to listen to baby and see how they are! OK?" She nods.

After 10 minutes whooshing the doctor and midwife didn't look very happy with the result "What's wrong?" She asked him. He had that look all doctor have when they're about to tell you bad news "You baby's heart beat keeps dipping" tears started forming in her eyes "Dipping? What do you mean?" He hands her a tissue "Mrs Barlow, we want to deliver your baby as safely as possible and with the fluctuations of their heart beat you have an hour to deliver this baby, or we will have to take you down to theatre for an emergency c-section" her heart sank "But how am I going to have a baby in less than an hour? She just said I'm only 3 centimetres" She looks up at Adam, he's calm which soothe her.

"Well, we need to first break your waters, hopefully that should speed things along a bit. So, I'm going to leave Charlotte here to do that and I will be back in half an hour to see how you are doing" DR. Curry makes his way for the door. "Ellie, after your next contraction I'm going try and break your waters. So, I need you to tell me when it's over, OK?" Ellie nods the next contraction comes and goes. Charlotte successful breaks her waters "That feels so warm!" Ellie laughs just as the next contraction starts to build.

"Oh my god! I feel like I need to push!" She screams as the contraction takes hold. "Ellie if you need to push, then push, but little pushes!" Scared her body is tricking her, she refuses "I can't! You said I was only 3 centimetres. I'm not ready!" She hisses at Charlotte "Hey Ellie, listen to me if that's what your body wants to do then do it. I will keep an eye if nothing happens we will stop! OK? You need to trust what your body is telling you to do!"

The next contraction build she begins to push... crashing Adam's hand in the process until it fades again "You're doing brilliant, beautiful" Adam kisses her forehead "Anything?" She asks her midwife "Well, I can see the top of baby's head..." She's cut off by the next contractions "There's the head" Charlotte tells her "With the next contraction she'll be here" another starts and Ellie pushes again "And here she is 7:43PM welcome to the world little one!" Charlotte says as she cleans her up.

"Ellie, you did it again! She's here!" Adam cups her face and kisses her lips "Skin to skin?" Charlotte asks, Ellie nods "I'll just get Daddy to cut the cord" she looks over to Adam and hands him the scissors. He proudly cuts through the cord before Charlotte moves her to Ellie's chest "Does she have a name?" Charlotte looks at both of them "We're still haven't decid..." she cuts Adam off "Delilah!" Ellie looks up at Adam as the brightest smile appears on his face "Aww that's lovely! Where did you get that from?" She asks the pair.

"It was my Nan's name" Adam says not quite believing she finally had a name and a name that means something to him. "That's sweet! Ellie do you want to give Delilah to Daddy while we get this afterbirth delivered?" Charlotte places Delilah in a towel passes her to Adam as DR. Curry walks in "How are we do...oh baby is here! Wow how long did that take?" He looks over to Charlotte "15 minutes after I broke her water. She had the urge to push right away!" He looks at her stunned "Whoa! That's amazing have you requested her IV drip yet?"

Ellie looks confused "IV drip?" He looks over to her "We estimated you probably lost just over a pint of blood. This will just stop anymore bleeding" Charlotte smiles at a worried Ellie "Nothing to worry about its just because you've lost more than usually. It's routine"

"I'll go and get what we need. While you finish up in here" DR. Curry says as he leave the room.

Later, Charlotte has shift had ended and a new midwife had taken over "When can I go for a shower?" Ellie asks her new midwife Demi she wanders over checks the IV drip monitor "You have another 45 minutes on this then you should be OK" another midwife walks in and calls Demi out of the room a few minutes later she comes back in "We are going to have to move you up to postnatal ward now" Ellie looked shocked with Charlie's Labour she was allowed to have a shower before heading up.

Her legs were still covered in blood as well as her hospital gown. She got off the bed with her IV drip and into a wheelchair, Adam close behind with Delilah. She gets into her cubicle and take a seat in the chair after the midwife leave, she bursts into tears Adam puts Delilah down in her cot and rushes over to his wife "Hey, what's up beautiful?"

She looks up at him "Everything I'm covered in blood, I'm still in this awful thing. I want get into bed, but I can't sit on there like this! I want to cuddle my baby, but my arms are cover in blood. I feel dirty like I'm a cast member of the walking dead! And from what it sounds like we have a snorer the other side of this stupid curtain" He lifts up his wife's chin "Watch Delilah I'll be back in a minute" he gets up and leaves the cubicle through the curtain.

10 minutes later he comes back with a wheel chair and a midwife "You help her into the chair and grab her bag I'll grab baby" the midwife tells Adam. Wiping her tears she looks up at him "What's going on?" He smiles at her "You'll see now come on!" He lifts her out of her chair and into the wheel chair. They walk down the hall and through a door. Once inside she spots another bed and a bathroom "Adam?"

She looks up at him "This was the last one they had!" She looks at him still confused, he laughs, "£90 a night for a private room with a bath in the bathroom and this lovely lady has said if you've had over 80 percent of that drip she'll take it off you, so you can go for a soak" her eyes well up and she starts to cry again.

"It suppose to make you happy not sad!" He laughs, "Happy tears!" The midwife smiles at them both as she catches sight of Ellie, she shook her head "Oh dear, look at the state of you! They let you come up here like that! You poor thing, let me put her next to the bed and get you off this. Even if I have to put you back on after you can't sit like that!" She puts Delilah next the bed and takes Ellie off the drip before helping her to the bathroom.

20 minutes later all fresh from her shower, she emerges from the bathroom in her own comfortable clothes. Adam is changing Delilahs nappy. He looks up "Feeling better?" She smiles as she nods at him before she gets onto the bed next him. She places a kiss on his cheek, "Thank you!" He looks over to her "Why are you thanking me? You did all the hard work!" He places Delilah back in her cot "You were calm while I was losing it! I crashed your hand and you spent money on a hospital room just to make me happy!"

He laughs, "I did have my own motives! No one, not even me was going to sleep with a motorbike snoring next door!" he pulls her to his chest and pulls over the blanket over the both of them "We better sleep while she does. So, night beautiful!" She kisses his cheek "Night! I love you!" She feels him chuckle "I love you more"

Continue reading this story here - Chapter 2.

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night Part XII

(Author’s Notes: Sup guys! I hope you had a fantastic Fourth of July (for the American readers) and celebrated safely. If you are not American, I hope you had a fantastic weekend! Thank you for your patience while I worked through some writer’s block. I think I’m getting back into a swing though. I started reading a book that is set in the Edwardian period and it has helped me find the dialect and voice that I started with. I’ve been reading a lot of contemporary literature as of late and I think it’s influenced my writing a little, which is fine, but I’m fighting to remain consistent. I’m working on a novel of my own and it’s also based in the Edwardian period, but in a fantasy world, and I’ve been struggling to stay in the same dialect with that too. Anyhoo... I’m rambling... here is part 12. I hope that you enjoy it. Please hit the like, reblog, leave me a comment to cry happily over, and follow along for updates. Be safe! Be kind! Stay healthy.)

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Part XII

The following morning, James was settled in a wing chair in the game room, nominally enthralled by a short collection of poetry by Keats. It’d been a comfort to read Keats’ poetry when he would be feeling out of sorts. Perhaps because his father insisted on reading it to him as a child before bed. It seemed even in his adolescent and young adulthood, after weeks of sleepless nights cramming for examinations, going through drills during the day, and shivering through countless patrols in the chilly streets of London, he always enjoyed dozing in the warmth of a well-made fire, with Keats’ heart bleeding through the pages of his collection.

This naturally led to his considering what Keats would do in a situation like his. As his mind wandered into his thoughts, he was aware of the scent of late-blooming climbing rose coming in the window on a puff of air and he noted that the scent might have prompted the thought and he wondered whether Matthew would still be Matthew if he smelled of diesel and boot polish instead of bay rum, and what Cordelia, who smelled of roses and lime blossom to him, would be doing at this time of the day if she weren’t lying in her sick bed.

A swift clatter of boots on the stairs heralded Matthew’s arrival, and he closed the book, without the relief he’d been searching for, for even Keats couldn’t keep his mind from wandering.

“The Silent Brothers have gone,” said Matthew, his tone composed with his usual preferred demeanor of bored indifference.

“Gone where?” asked James.

“Back to the Citadel, I’m assuming,” said Matthew. He tugged at his starched shirt collar, and James could see he was warm with sweat about the neck, as if he had run all the way here. “Brother Zachariah remains and another, but I cannot recall his name, they all look the same to me.”

“Any word on Cordelia or Alastair?”

“Unfortunately not and the adults want a word with us in the dining room post haste. I assume they want a detailed description of our knowledge concerning the events of the night.” Matthew slumped in the other wing chair and covered his face with his arm. “

“Well, that’s certainly a blow to my afternoon plans,” said James, keeping his tone light in the hope that he could convince his parents and friends that he was calm enough to stand outside the bedroom that Cordelia had been moved into. They moved her in the night while he slept and no one would tell him the location due to his sudden outbursts. “If the other Brothers have left, that’s surely a good sign that Cordelia and Alastair are healing and are no longer in need of their attention.”

“It’s possible,” said Matthew from under his sleeve. “My parents are here, as are Kit’s and Thomas’s.” He groaned and added, “Charles insisted on coming as well. My life is over.”

James cursed. “What does he want?”

“‘To get to the bottom of this most unfortunate disaster’,” said Matthew, “his words, not mine. He’ll insist on lecturing us about how insubordinate we’ve all been, and how, seeing as we are underage, we have no business going out after the Carstairs siblings without briefing the adults with the situation first. He’ll make me file his paperwork for a month.”

“You’re being a bit dramatic,” said James.

Even as James spoke he felt the hypocrisy of offering comfort instead of truth. But what truth could he speak to his parabatai? Remembering the whispered conversations between his own parents after James had returned from near death by demon poisoning, James knew with a sinking feeling that his own investigation towards his grandfather would need to be done in absolute secrecy.

“Charles has been wanting to get me behind a desk since we were children,” said Matthew. “My mother will surely not object now that Shadowhunters are being plucked from their carriages in the streets.”

“Well, lucky for Charles, you’ve the best penmanship of all of us,” said James.

“So glad to hear that your humor has returned,”groaned Matthew, hanging his head so that his face was hidden beneath the fall of his hair. “Even if it is at my expense.”

“Pull yourself together, Math,” said James. He stood and tugged the edges of his jacket down as if to reinforce his words. “It will not serve to allow the entire household to hear such agitation. We have faced our parent’s fury before, this will be no different, I’m sure.” There was a pause, and James gazed out the window to allow Matthew a moment to compose himself. While he envied Matthew’s free and easy, passionate nature, his capacity for intense friendships, he always felt squeamish in the face of Matthew’s occasional display of emotion. He was accustomed to his own emotional outburst and Matthew insisting on James to calm down.

“You are right, of course,” said Matthew at last. He pulled a large silk handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his forehead. “Good to see you back to your more rational nature.”

“Thank you,” said James, fully aware that Matthew did not altogether mean it as a compliment. It was hardly fair that Matthew should provoke him into a purse-lipped rigidity and then insult him for it, but James’s first concern was to protect his friend from his own self-indulgence. “Now why don’t we make a suitable plan?” he added. “I’ve learned long ago that it’s best to just nod in the presence of angered adults.”

Matthew nodded as if to show his ability to follow direction. “Perhaps we should share what we know about Belial.”

“I think not,” said James. “My parent’s have already made it quite clear that they don’t want us involved in the investigation any further. We will have to continue it without their knowing.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” said Matthew. “He nearly possessed you and tried to kill Cordelia twice.”

“Which is why we must continue the investigation on how to properly kill him because it can be sure that he will not stop until he has what he wants,” said James. “There has to be a way to kill him properly.”

“I hope it’s something obvious,” said Matthew, “like spritzing him with water or feeding him chocolate.”

A sound of voices in the hallway outside the game room was followed by a light knocking on the door and Thomas’s voice saying, “Of course I’ve forgotten the secret knock, it was far too complex to begin with.”

“They’re here to fetch us,” said Matthew urgently. James noticed that he did have a strange, pale look about his face, but perhaps, he thought, this was the properly deserved effect of too much rough cider.

“By the angel, it’s only Christopher and Thomas,” he said. “You and Thomas can look pale and interesting together. Of course, he’s only just lost his sister. Perhaps his situation will help your sense of perspective.”

“Your sarcasm lacks the delicacy that would render it amusing,” said Matthew. “But thank you for your reason. Your permanent frown always brings me to my senses.”

“I do not have a permanent frown,” said James. He took a brief look into the mirror over the mantle and consciously adjusted his features to a half smile, which only seemed to make him look as if he were in pain.

“Hello gentleman,” said Matthew,  “do come in. It’s mercifully clear of authority in here.”

Christopher and Thomas came through the door, and James found himself slightly relieved that they were alone. Both of them were neatly dressed in tweed trousers, buttoned up shirts with suspenders. Christophers glasses rested on the end of his nose while Thomas' shirt strained heavily around the illustrious girth of his arms. Neither of them seemed to wear any hint of the previous night’s grievances.

“Welcome,” he said. “Is it time then?”

“Just about,” said Thomas and folded his arms across his chest. “I’ve only just arrived with mum and dad and only convinced Christopher’s parents to allow him to leave their side by promising that we were only going as far as to fetch the two of you.”

“It’s already begun,” Matthew blurted out. “Behold men, your last minutes of freedom.”

“What’s he on about?” asked Thomas.

“Pay him no mind,” said James. “He’s consumed with the notion that due to the events of the last few nights our parents are going to handcuff us to desks until we come of age.”

“My mother suggested it,” said Christopher, “but I think my father has made progress against the idea.”

“See,” said James, gesturing to Christopher. “If my aunt Cecily can be brought to sense then so will your parents. Let’s just do what they ask of us and resume our investigation without their knowledge.”

“So not much different from what we’ve been doing for the past seventeen years?” said Matthew, shooting James a look. James could only roll his eyes as Christopher and Thomas drifted to the two wing chairs, where they sat and continued, for some minutes, to turn over the circumstances of the secret Belial investigation in a low and urgent manner.

“Any word on Cordelia and Alastair?” asked James.

Thomas nose flared as he met James’s gaze with an expression of frankness. “No,” he said. “Not that I’ve heard.”

James leaned against the wall and felt an echo of the agony that he had felt the night before and had to quell an urge to run out of the room and demand that someone give him information on the state of his fiance, seeing as far as everyone knew they were still engaged.

“I overheard our mother’s talking,” said Christopher to Matthew. “Alastair woke for a moment last night and was able to communicate with the Silent Brothers, but he is instructed to rest without visitors so that the injuries to his brain can continue to heal.” Matthew grumbled something under his breath. “Cordelia has been placed into an induced coma that she is unable to wake up from on her own. When her injuries have had some time to heal they’ll attempt to wake her up. The good news however is that the cure for her demon poisoning has allowed the runes to take a more immediate effect so she is healing.”

Christopher offered James a reassuring smile, which he appreciated more than he could properly express.

“Forget being tied to a desk,” muttered Matthew. “My mother will probably request having me put into an induced coma instead.”

Tessa Gray sat in the plush velvet couch in the front drawing room with her legs crossed at the ankles and her husband’s hand gently pressed against her shoulder while he sipped brandy from a glass tumbler in his free hand. Aunt Cecily was seated in a wing chair beside the fire with her husband Gabriel a respectful six feet away from Will. Aunt Sophie sat at the other end of the couch with Tessa, her hand held softly in the clutches of Gideon, both of them still carrying the misery of the loss of their eldest daughter Barbara. Charlotte Fairchild stood behind her husband’s wheelchair and beside her eldest son Charles. James knocked on the door and went in followed by Matthew, Christopher, and Thomas.

“Gentlemen,” said Will. “I hope that you all slept well and are prepared for punishment and ridicule.”

“William,” warned Tessa. “We simply want you to recount your details from the night the Carstair’s were attacked.

Matthew shifted beside James.

It had only just occurred to him that he hadn’t seen Lucie since they arrived at the Institute with Cordelia and she wasn’t in the room now. “Where is Lucie? She would have more to tell than any of us would.”

“Lucie has already recounted her experience,” said Tessa, one eyebrow raised. “She’s resting now. It’s the four of you that we wish to speak to now.”

“We are enacting an investigation on this prince of hell Belial,” said Charles, as he moved forward into the center of the room. “If we’re to be successful in locating him and effectively killing him then we need all of the information that you have concerning him.”

“I’ve already told my parents everything that I know about Belial,” said James. Both Will and Tessa turned him a look. James exhaled and began his recount of his experiences with Belial.

“And you believe Belial to be the one to have taken Miss Carstairs?” asked Charles when James was finished.

“I never saw him myself,” said James. “That would be a question for Lucie.”

“She claimed not to have seen him either,” said Charles, removing a pocket watch and checking the time before slipping it back into his trousers. “She said that she found Cordelia in the fog badly injured. She said that she lost you, but once the fog rolled away, you appeared again. Is this not the truth?”

James wasn’t sure what would compel his sister to lie about the events of Cordelia’s rescue, but he had to assume that there was a good reason and one that he would explore later when he could speak to his sister himself.

“It’s the truth,” said James. “As I told you before Lucie disappeared into the fog and I ran after her. We lost each other for some time, and when the fog moved off, she was there again with Cordelia.”

Charles stroked his chin. “It’s been unanimously agreed upon that the four of you, including Lucie and Anna, will be restricted to local patrols during daylight hours and are to report in detail any and all demon activity. If you so choose to break your restrictions then your punishment will be as sever as I see warranted.”

“What exactly would you see warranted?” asked James.

“You’ll be sent to Alicante,” said Charles, his eyes marked on Matthew, “where you’ll remain until you come of age and if you continue to disobey direct orders then the punishment will be as severe as stripping you of your marks.”

“Charles,” Charlotte hissed from beside her husband. “We never mentioned—“

“It is for their own safety, mother,” said Charles, squaring his shoulders. “I do hope it doesn’t come to such extremes, but in this case, the safety of one is the safety of them all. I do hope this will encourage them to keep each other accountable.”

Though it pained James that these new founded restrictions would limit his personal research on finding a way to kill Belial, it did not discourage him in the least. In fact, he was even more excited about the prospect of an opportunity to infuriate Charles. If one of them were to be sent to Alicante, he was sure the rest would follow, and he couldn’t strip them all of their marks. What with Shadowhunters being down in numbers as it were. Charles tactics were classic: infiltrate fear into the army without ever enacting punishment. Not that Charles would ever find out if they were going against him. Charles was too busy building his castle out of sand to see what goes on around him.

“I think Charles has allowed power to go to his head,” said Will, under his breath. He’d been in something of high spirits since Jem had arrived at the Institute and been ordered to stay to help the Carstairs siblings mend. “Don’t fret, Jamie boy, if you are stripped of your marks, Coleridge lived a life of poverty and had to be sustained by charitable friends and he turned out fine.”

“William,” Tessa hissed. “Do be serious for a moment. Jamie, as much as we regret taking away your personal freedoms, it is of the utmost importance that you heed the restrictions put in place for you. Even if he is being a power hungry, conniving, son of a--”

“What your mother is trying to convey,” said Will, moving in front of her, “is that you should be careful and mindful of your action.”

“I could always become a postman like Trollope?” said James. “I’ll begin to work on my beard.”

Will bellowed and clapped James on the shoulder just as the doors to the drawing room were opened by the footman and in walked Brother Zachariah with Sona beside him. Her graying hair has come loose and spilled down her back in an array of perfect waves that mirrored the texture of her daughters. Her expression was somber; deep circles sat under her eyes and her lips were impossibly dry.

Her arm was entwined with Jem’s as they shuffled into the room.

James, followed by Tessa and Will, hurried across the room to meet them.

“Mrs. Carstairs is in need of some rest,” said Brother Zachariah. “She would like to request that James remain with Miss Cordelia while she is away.”

James took her free hand and offered it a reassuring squeeze.

“She is lost in there,” said Sona, her voice rough and weathered. “I can feel it. It helps if you read to her. Let her hear the sound of your voice so she has something to walk towards in all of that darkness.”

“I can show you to a room,” said Tessa, a note of emotion in her voice that she quickly cleared away.

“That would be lovely thank you,” said Sona and removed her arm from Jem’s for Tessa’s.

“Perhaps some light broth,” said Brother Zachariah. “She hasn’t eaten much and I worry for the child.”

Tessa nodded and led Sona from the room.

Brother Zachariah turned his attention to James. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better after some sleep,” said James. “I can go to Cordelia now if you wish.”

“She is having a bath,” said Jem, “but in the next hour. Prepare to make yourself comfortable, perhaps bring some literature. As Sona said before, it is of the utmost importance that you continue to speak to her, give her something to walk towards, or the Cordelia that you know can become lost in her thoughts forever.”

James' voice became bitter. “Why is she in a coma if it means she could become lost inside of her mind? Can’t you wake her up?”

“The injuries that she has sustained would be too terrible to be conscious during,” said Jem. “The body is able to heal much quicker if the mind is asleep to the pain.”

James drew himself into as stiff of a column as he could and clamped his teeth down on a small quiver of his jaw. He resolved himself in that moment to give Cordelia whatever she needed; if he had to read to her for days, weeks, even months then that was what he would do.

(Next update is going to be Sunday 7/12... maybe)

[softbiker]

Bucky Barnes Oneshot

Warnings: a couple of bad words

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: After being injured on a mission, Bucky winds up spending a day with the Avengers newest recruit. Bucky x Reader

A/N: This is my submission for @nacho-bucky ‘s writing challenge! My prompt was ‘the smell of freshly baked bread’. As a side note, I drank a whole pot of coffee yesterday and wrote this in one afternoon, so it’s also unedited :) As always, let me know what you think! 

By the time the quinjet is an hour out from New York, Bucky Barnes is in an irredeemably foul mood.

Breaking up terror cells in Germany was supposed to be an easy mission - in and out, with the practiced ease of their well-oiled strike team. Really, they took the mission to spare German special forces the trouble...that, and a potential connection to an old Red Room contact of Natasha’s. With their “dream team” (Sam’s words, not Bucky’s) of Cap, Bucky, Sam, and Natasha, this should have been a light op, a scrimmage, Nerf ball.

Turns out superheroing is a contact sport, and they’ve got the bombs and broken ribs to prove it. A train station, a decoy, and an explosive device Natasha failed to disarm. With Sam coordinating civilian evacuation, there had only been a couple dozen injuries, but the suspect had slipped away, leaving them bruised and empty-handed.

Bucky had taken a brutal hit as he pulled Nat to safety, and now he is curled in his seat on the jet, metal hand holding his ribcage. He watches Steve scowl in the cockpit, jaw unflinchingly tight as he goes over the mission in his head. The captain doesn’t know how to let things go - never has, never will. Sam is actually piloting the quinjet, making unreturned small talk about a basketball game he went to last weekend. Natasha sits across from Bucky, a Stark tablet in her hands, dissecting bomb schematics and diagrams of diffusion techniques. There’s a little scab of dried blood on her bottom lip that she pokes at with her tongue, red brows lowered in concentration.

Bucky is exhausted - his hair smells like dust and smoke, his mouth is tangy and dry. There’s dried sweat underneath his uniform and he itches and his feet are hot in his boots and his ribs really fucking hurt. He lets his head fall back against the seat, and wishes they were home already.

**********

She pops her head up over the back of the couch when she hears them. What a sight they make: Bucky, propped up on Steve’s shoulder, Natasha dust-covered and buried in her tablet, Sam still sweaty and tugging at the harness on his suit. She still smiles, tentative but kind.

“Hi guys.” She lifts her fingers in a little wave. “Everyone okay?”

Bucky grunts in response; Natasha says nothing, making a beeline for her room and a shower. Sam, without doubt the most talkative person on the team, props himself on a stool and blows a harsh breath past his lips.

“We’re alright, yeah,” he sighed. “Barnes is a little beat up but he’ll get over it - he’s just  dramatic.”

“Fuck you, too, Wilson.” Bucky flips Sam off over his shoulder as they hobble towards the elevators.

She winces, not yet used to their harsh banter.

“Hey man, be nice in front of the rookie, alright?” Sam hollers, mock-offended. “You’re creating a hostile work environment!”

Steve chuckles a little at that, jostling Bucky’s tender ribs, which makes him scowl at his best friend.

“Bucky is a hostile work environment,” Steve deadpans. They’ve reached the elevator, and shuffle inside, turning to face the common room. Bucky catches the rookie’s eyes as she giggles behind her hand.

“She’s fine,” he rolls his eyes, sparing a wink for the rookie. “When I make it hostile, bird brain, you’ll know.”

The elevator doors close, and he leans on Steve a little heavier, and jabs his elbow into Steve’s stomach.

“Thanks a lot for that, by the way,” he huffs.

“What?” Steve feigns innocence, and very poorly. “Didn’t know you were so worried about making a good impression on the rookie.”

“I’m - I’m not.”

“Uh huh.”

“Shut up.”

They meet Dr. Banner in the medical wing where his lab adjoins the clinic; Sam had messaged him half an hour ago that they were inbound with a broken supersoldier, and Bruce had taken the liberty of setting up some of his supplies. Of all the doctors on staff, Bucky favored Dr. Banner - he was mild and soft-spoken enough to not trigger Bucky’s anxiety, in spite of the needles and IV drips and the snapping of latex gloves.

An X-ray and some bandages later, Bucky is removed from the active duty list for two weeks.

“Even with your advanced healing factor, I wanna be careful with this,” Bruce says, taking off his glasses to scratch the side of his nose. “I mean, your medical history is a little blurry, to say the least - and with all the shit HYDRA pulled, who knows what kind of stress your bones have been through before.” He taps away on his tablet, notifying FRIDAY and the admin system to remove Bucky from the roster. “In the meantime, take it easy - no missions, no training, no lifting weights. Probably avoid the motorcycle, too. I’ll check on them again in two weeks, and we’ll go from there.”

Steve is nodding - he never leaves Bucky by himself in medical - and crosses his arms. Neither of them have changed out of their uniforms yet, and in this sterile observation room, Bucky can finally smell the layers of grime and sweat clinging to them. His nose wrinkles when he gets a little whiff of himself, feeling bad for the nurse who bandaged his ribs.

“Oh I almost forgot -” Bruce turns around and reaches for something on his lab bench. A little blue bottle, full of round white pills. “Here. I developed these for the two of you - since you metabolize normal painkillers so quickly, I figured we might need something that would work in the event you sustain heavy injuries which…well, seemed likely. Take 2 every 4 hours, okay?”

His metal fingers grip the little bottle, rattling the tablets inside.

“Sure thing, doc.”

**********

She lifts the hem of her shirt, wiping at the sweat on her forehead, and leans against the wall of the gym. Her breath comes in short pants as her chest heaves, trying to cool down from her last bout with Agent Romanoff.

“Heads up.”

Her hands barely make it up in time to catch the flying water bottle headed for her face.

“Good catch,” Romanoff smirks a little. She’s sweating, too, but in a way that’s decidedly more sexy, little red curls hanging by her face. She looks fresh from a Pilates class, not a suicide workout - the rookie can feel the heat of her own face, the sweat drenching her clothes, and knows she’s not nearly as glowing as her trainer.

“You did really good today,” Romanoff continues. She keeps saying to call her “Natasha” but that is so hard to do with a woman so intimidating her alias is one of the world’s deadliest animals. “Really good. You’ve shown tons of improvement since we started. I’m going to recommend we start letting you shadow on missions in a couple more weeks.”

“Wow, really?” Her face lit up in spite of her exhaustion.

“Sure.” Natasha smiles. “I know it’s gotten a little boring, having you go through all of this.”

“Boring” was an understatement. Despite having a few years of experience under her belt - well, according to Tony Stark, vigilantism barely counts as “experience” - the rookie was assigned to a training program for her first couple of months on the team.

“Too much of a risk to put you in the field right away,” Stark had rattled off, handing her forms to sign and an official t-shirt (‘Look Mom! I’m an Avenger!’) and a tablet with a map of the compound. “Legal says we can avoid liability issues with a training program before we gradually phase you in, and I’m inclined to agree, so! Welcome to the team, but not officially!”

Her days consisted of early morning workouts, followed by combat and tactical training with Black Widow herself, and then...well, not much. There was research, of course, and she stayed on top of the intelligence briefings with the rest of the team. She went to meetings and official dinners and unofficial karaoke nights, but the rest of her time was mostly her own. Frankly, she was chomping at the bit to get back out there, in the action. Helping people.

“Well, hopefully it’ll pay off,” she sighs, giving Agent Romanoff an exhausted smile. “I wouldn’t want to be the weak link on the team.”

“You won’t be, believe me,” Natasha shakes her head. With a glance at her watch, she picks up her own water bottle and heads for the door. “Now I’ve gotta run, Skype meeting with Fury in 5. I’ll see you later, Rookie!”

**********

Bucky Barnes was feeling good.

Like, damn good.

Like, ‘Banner should label his controlled substances’ good.

Thing is, post-HYDRA and post-fugitive and post-cognitive reconstruction therapy, Bucky was more mentally okay than he had been in decades. He had the occasional rough day, and he definitely wasn’t perfect by any means, but with the shrinks that Stark had on retainer, he was getting better at dealing with it all. His physical health, however, was more of a moving target. In spite of receiving a bastardized supersoldier serum, he had been pumped full of so much other shit and gone through so much physical stress that his body had fundamentally shifted equilibrium. Multiple appointments with Dr. Cho and Shuri revealed that his chronic pain may never fully heal - if it did, it would be a very gradual process. Normal painkillers in reasonable doses did nothing for him, so Bucky settled in to his discomfort, carrying it the way he carried his knives and his scars - always.

24 hours into his medical leave, a few doses of pills down, and he couldn’t feel a single ounce of pain in his body - he shifted his awareness to each part of himself, like that guided meditation thing Wanda did sometimes, and he couldn’t find the pain, not even lurking behind the muscle and metal. He might be a little miffed at being off the active duty roster, but if his whole vacation is going to feel like this? Well, he doesn’t mind to let Steve handle the next threat to world peace.

With his schedule suddenly wide open, Bucky wonders what he’ll do with his day. He can’t remember the last time he truly had nothing to do - it’s an exciting prospect. So he lets himself ease through his morning, sleeping in, long hot shower, slipping on those plush Black Widow pajama pants Nat gave him as a gag gift. He knows everyone else will have had their breakfast and moved on to morning briefings and training drills by now, and he wanders down to the kitchen in the hopes that they’ve left him some coffee.

He sees her there, perched on a stool at the island and frowning at the tablet in her hand. There’s a little scrunch to her nose when she does that, he notices.

“Good morning,” he says softly, trying and failing not to startle her.

“Oh, hey Bucky,” she smiles, watches him round the island to the coffee pot on the counter. “I didn’t see you there.”

“S’okay. I’m quiet.”

“You didn’t get tapped for the recovery mission? They’re going after your suspect from Berlin again, I think.”

“Oh, I’m off missions for two weeks.” He turns, giant ‘Don’t forget to be awesome’ mug gripped in his metal hand. “Banner’s orders. You didn’t hear about my smashed ribs?”

“Oh no, I guess not - are you okay?” Suddenly she’s concerned, and a little sheepish. “Sorry, I’m still a little out of the loop I guess.”

He feels guilty for that - she’s eager, bright, kind, a brilliant recruit. But it can take a while before you’re ‘in’ with the team. Not because they exclude her, but, well - a group made up of outsiders has a hard time adding new faces to the mix.

“Don’t apologize. Not your fault.” Bucky digs around in a jar on the counter for a few sugar packets, dumping them into his mug. “Anyways, I’m off the roster for now. Gotta figure out something to do with myself, I guess.”

Her smile is slow, ducked under pretty lashes - he really needs to stop noticing these things.

“Would you - I mean, you can hang out with me if you want?” She chews on her lip. “I’m done for today - my training with Natasha ended early and they didn’t need me in on the briefing so…”

The rookie was lonely - he could see that, anyone could. The fact is, between their own training and missions, it had been a little hard for the team to spend very much time with her. Bucky himself was often a bit of a loner in his free time, preferring to hole up in his room with books and movies rather than go out for drinks or another karaoke night. And yet, he found himself feeling eager at the thought of spending a relaxing day with the new recruit, getting to know her a little, hearing that funny little laugh through her nose.

“Sounds great, Rookie - what did ya have in mind?”

**********

“Okay, I just wanna go on the record and say I called it. I called it!” She’s grinning. “I knew you would love this.”

“Well, hey, in my defense, I’ve never hated beautiful women.”

She just rolls her eyes, kicks her feet out to rest on the coffee table in front of them. There’s a pile of DVD’s, all hers, laying across the surface, picked through and ranked in order of what was most important for Bucky to see. His film education was obviously lacking, considering he missed out on 70 years of movies, and didn’t even know what he liked anymore, so he was content to let her pick. After raiding the kitchen for an array of snacks, they settled in, opposite ends of the same couch with a bowl of popcorn and dark chocolate M&M’s between them.

Approximately 20 minutes into the movie, Steve appears, just passing through for an apple from the fridge. He stops in his tracks behind the couch, the crunch of the fruit in his mouth just above their heads.

“What is this?” he says around his mouthful. If his Ma could see him now, Bucky thinks.

“It’s called ‘How to Marry a Millionaire’ - came out in 1953,” she answers, smiling over her shoulder at him. “It’s one of my favorites honestly.”

“That’s - that’s Lauren Bacall!” Steve perks up, smacking Bucky’s shoulder.

“Yeah, punk,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “Betty Grable’s in it, too.”

“No shit!” Steve is grinning now, and he gives the rookie a conspiratorial look. “Y’know, Bucky used to have her pin-up poster. The one in the white bathing suit? Had it in his suitcase when he shipped out.”

“Oh, really?” She’s looking at him now, eyes sparkling at the rosy blush climbing up Bucky’s cheeks. “Betty Grable, huh?”

He clears his throat. “Well, everybody had that picture, I mean...it’s famous for a reason. All the boys had ‘em.”

“No, no, I get that,” she shrugs. “I just had you pegged as more the Rita Hayworth type, that’s all.”

It takes him back for a second, Steve too, that she knows these starlets, that they could’ve been having this same conversation 75 years ago. He can see that look in Steve’s eyes, sly and knowing as they slide towards him. Bucky works his mouth, tries to control his smile.

“Well, nothing wrong with her either,” he drawls, spreading his arms along the back of the couch. “But did you see Grable’s legs?”

“I just thought you might’ve had a thing for redheads!” she laughs.

“They’re alright, I guess - now Dugan on the other hand…”

Neither of them notices Steve leave the room, tossing the apple in his hand and a huge dopey grin on his face.

**********

“Tell me again what the recipe says?”

“One cup of pumpkin puree.”

“Oh - shit, I thought you said one can.”

She smacks her forehead. “No wonder the batter is so goopy!” She rolls her eyes playfully. “You’re trying to ruin my bread, Barnes.”

“I swear I’m not, doll - it was an accident.”

“Okay, new plan - we just make a double batch since the can has two cups in it.”

She shuffles around behind him, grabbing her flour and sugar and sour cream and other ingredients, hands flurrying to measure and fix the dough. It’s mid-afternoon now, a couple of movies down, and they (she) decided they needed to get in the fall spirit by baking a ridiculous amount of...breads. The banana bread is already in the oven, the pumpkin will be on its way as soon as she fixes his mistake, and a blueberry bread (made from muffin mix) is next on the list.

“But...what’s so special about making it into breads?” He had asked, causing her to look at him like an idiot.

“Ask me that again after you try them, Bucky.”

So he shut up and cracked eggs and sifted flour, stirring when her arm got tired. He was already regretting his words now that the smell of the banana bread was drifting towards him from the ovens, and he had to admit the pumpkin and cinnamon from her bowl was making his stomach growl. With all the bowls and measuring cups laying around, they were making enough sweet breads to feed an army, but hey - the Avengers are practically a small army of their own. And besides, Bucky intends on taking an entire loaf - baker’s privilege.

He decides that he likes watching her work, bouncing around the kitchen, some oldies playlist on the speakers, her tongue poking out between her lips. She’s got her sweater sleeves pushed up over her elbows - he had to help with that, after she got dough on them. This song is good, too, and he wants to ask her who wrote it-

“Are you gonna stand there staring at me, or are you gonna help?” she quips over her shoulder. He has no idea when he last smiled so much.

“You’re the boss, Rookie.”

**********

She’s got her feet in his lap now, and they haven’t said a word in an hour, and Bucky doesn’t even remember taking his last dose or two of his pain pills but he doesn’t feel a goddamn thing.

There’s a huge book in her lap, Stephen King - a favorite, he’s learned.

“I read at least one of his books every year in October,” she tells him. “You know, to get ready for spooky season.”

“Spooky season? What the hell is that?”

“You know, Halloween time!” she smacks his arm. “It’s Halloween first, Buck, you gotta get in the spirit.”

“I’m -” he sputters, face drawn in the most adorably confused look. “Halloween first?”

She hands him a book of his own and now here they are - he’s 20 pages into The Shining, but he’s stopped paying attention because she’s yawning behind her book and her eyes are fluttering shut, and it shouldn’t be as distracting as it is.

He forces his eyes down to his own page, to Jack Torrance and haunted hotels, but they’re drawn back up when her book finally drops the rest of the way to her lap. Her head slumps sideways onto the back of the couch, mouth open just a little. He draws the blanket down around her feet and tucks it in a little tighter, but other than that, doesn’t move a muscle. He’s just fine right here, thank you.

He’s sinking in again, driving up the twisting mountain road to the Overlook, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Carefully - in the way highly trained superspies can be careful - he lifts his hips up and pulls his phone from his pocket, managing not to dislodge her feet or wake her up. She merely sighs in her sleep, nuzzling her face into the couch pillow. A text notification from team group message lights up the screen.

It’s Natasha. A photo, a photo which she somehow managed to take without him knowing, of him and the rookie, practically snuggling on the couch and reading together. Her legs are propped over his lap, and Bucky’s eyes are staring straight at her over the top of his book. Nat has captioned the photo: “looks like Barnes found a good nurse.”

He snorts a little. Natalia. Glances up at her, still sleeping, and tilts his phone upwards a few degrees and snaps a picture to send back.

“She sleeps on the job” he types, thumbs still slow on the phone keyboard. Instantly, his phone starts buzzing with more texts from the team, but he mutes it and lays his phone on the coffee table. He doesn’t feel like talking now. Well, talking to them.

“Hey...Rookie,” he whispers, reaching out and shaking her shoulder a little. She hums in her sleep, but makes no other move.

“Rookie, I gotta ask you something.” He wiggles her leg a little, shaking her feet in his lap, and whispers her name. He’s rewarded with her eyes fluttering open, her mouth drawn down in a pout at being woken up.

“Whatisit,” she sighs, still slumped into the cushions. He clears his throat. Here goes nothing.

“So, there’s a charity gala for the Stark Foundation coming up next weekend,” he starts bravely. “And - and the whole team is going anyway, so I know you’re gonna be there, but - well, maybe you would consider going...with me?” Courage runs out, and his brain backpedals. “I mean, just as a friend?”

She huffs. “I can’t believe you woke me up for that.”

“Oh.” He looks down, hair falling in his eyes. “So...you don’t want to go with me?”

“Of course I’ll go with you, Barnes,” she sighs. “Now shush. I was napping”

His face hurts from the stretch in his cheeks when he smiles. He’s gonna give Bruce those pain meds back.

[ladyideal]

Unlucky Star

Pairing: Leonard McCoy x Reader

Word Cont: 2064 (oops?)

Warnings: Nudity but not in a smutty way, needles, injections, and lots of fluff, couple ol’ cursing

Summary: While everyone was sick, you weren’t. This time, while everyone was sick free, you caught the cold. Jim tries to intervene on behalf of your health. Leonard takes it upon himself to pull you away from work, and takes care of you.

A/n: This is for @cuddlememerrick​ and everyone feeling sick during this cold and flu season. Take care of yourselves, everyone. Go see a doctor if it worsens. Better safe than sorry. To those are sick, get well soon!

PS: It’s also Valentine’s weekend, so I’ll be taking up drabble requests over the weekend (as I’ve no plans) and finishing up a couple more fics. Expect a couple more posts from me.

(credit to owner for gif)

You were lucky for the most part. Away missions that you went didn’t end in a disaster, you had a job aboard the infamous USS Enterprise, you had friends, and most importantly, you had a wonderful love life. Nothing much you could complain about really.

Above all, you were one of the lucky stars amongst the crew that hardly ever got sick. So while the entire ship had tears watering in their eyes, noses that flowed never ending with snot, and coughs that could be heard from one side of the ship to the other. 

A harmless rhinovirus really, but in just a matter of weeks, the entire crew was infected, sending Leonard into overdrive down at the medbay. Even the Captain was confined to his quarters, in fear of transmitting the cold. However, it was no use. Chekov took the day off, and you were one of the very few dwindling officers left, that could keep their eyes open long enough to see what was in front of them.

You volunteered to take his shifts, seeing how the ship was in quite a disarray at the amount of people sniffling and sneezing around you. If the Romulans knew that just a single bacteria managed to cripple the entire crew, hell it’d spell really bad news for everyone. 

It was only a week later did you really start to notice that something was feeling rather off. 

At first, you’d chalk it up to stress and pulling extra shifts. Less sleep, less food and water, and more hours awake deciphering Chekov’s notes was to blame, you’d thought. However, what really brought your attention, was your soaring uncomfortable fever and wracking cough that shook your body every time you had a coughing fit.

You were doomed for sure. 

Pressing a tissue to your nose as you attempted to steep coffee grounds, you glanced at the chrom. 

“So much for a break,” You mumbled, grabbing the mug of coffee on your out the door and towards the Bridge.

“Afternoon, Captain,” You greeted Jim as you strode past him, giving Chekov a thumbs up on his way out. 

“Afternoon, Lieutenant,” Jim paused, noticing your usual lack of excitement. “Are you alright? It doesn’t sound-.”

“I’m fine, Jimbo,” You took the seat that the Russian whiz kid vacated earlier. “Little tired.” Settling yourself in a better position, you could still feel Jim’s worried eyes on your back.

“If you say so,” Jim reluctantly dropped the topic, although from his tone, he was still worried for you. 

Squinting your eyes to better understand what the hell Chekov left for you on his notes, you started your long, arduous work day on the Bridge. On a normal day, you’d banter back and forth with the Captain to fill the silence as you both worked. Given that you were Leonard’s girlfriend, you were best friends with him too, and enjoyed a couple similar things. For example, hating medbay, disliking authority, getting under the doctor’s skin whenever possible, and taking risks.

Hours ticked by, as you squirmed around in your seat for the umpteenth time. Sweat gathered on your brow, and behind your neck as you focused on your task at hand. With Chekov’s sloppy handwriting, it was a nightmare to sort through his notes each day, something that you’d lectured him whenever you got the chance to do so. 

It was getting ridiculously warm. Fuck. Did Jim mess with the temperature again?

“Lieutenant!” Jim sharply spoke, interrupting your thoughts. He sounded much more worried now, as if he had been trying to gain your attention for quite some time now. 

“Yes, Captain?” You spoke, looking back at him. 

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you wiggling around in your seat like that,” He spoke, observing your hunched up position. “I think you’re sick. I’ll have Bones come up and have a quick look at you.”

“Captain, I assure you that I’m fine. Leonard’s finally able to relax after that disaster month of a cold,” You protested, but quickly faltered as he commed your boyfriend up from the medbay.  

“Y/N, you need rest and time off to take care of yourself. We can’t have another fiasco like last month again,” Jim continued. “I’ll have someone take the rest of your shift.”

You grumbled wordlessly, appreciating the warmth and concern from your friendship with him, but irritated as he was one that never took his own advice. “You’re an ass.”

“What’s this about being an ass?” A familiar baritone voice drew out from the doors. 

Leonard.

“Bones, there you are,” Jim brightened up, throwing his best friend his usual shit eating grin. “We were just talking about how Y/N over there looked a little pale, and agreed that it’d be better if you took a glance.”

You silently fumed at Jim’s words, glaring down at the numbers in front of you. Trust Jim to roll you into this mess. 

“You telling me, Jim, that there was no emergency?” Leonard grumbled loudly. 

“Yeah Jimbo, there’s nothing wrong,” You added your words into the growing fire. 

“You wound me,” Jim feigned horror, clutching his hands together in front of his heart.  

“You’ll live.”

Rolling his eyes at his best friend, Leonard strode to your station with his emergency medkit in hand, and squatted down till he was eye level with you. 

“Sweetheart, look at me,” He softly ordered. While you stubbornly sat there, he gently placed his fingers around your chin, quietly encouraging you to do so.

He regarded your red eyes, stuffy nose, and very dry, chapped lips. “You’re sick, sugar.”

“‘M not sick, Len.‘m fine,” You hoarsely managed out. “Just a couple more minutes.”

He raised his signature eyebrow look, already exasperated that you were trying to fight him on this already. “Even the strong eventually falls ill.”

Hearing the evidence of your sickness, Leonard brought the back of his hand to your forehead, feeling the uncomfortable warmth radiating behind your skin. “And a fever too.”

He sighed, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “C’mon sweetheart, let’s get you outta here first.”

“Len, honey, I’m-,” You tried again, but stopped as he threw a pointed look at you. “Okay, alright, alright, you win. I’ll go”

“Take care of her, Bones,” Jim added cheekily before you and Leonard headed towards the turbolift. 

You threw him a glare before the doors closed. 

“Unbelievable, darlin’. Why didn’t you comm me that you were sick?” The doctor pulled out his handy dandy tricorder, giving you a whirl as it no doubt scanned you. 

“You were tired, I was tired,” You shrugged.

“My god, darlin’. How long have you let this continue?” He scowled down at his tricorder, taking in the numbers displayed. 

“A day or three,” You squeaked out. Now that you weren’t forced to compensate for your work, your sickness rapidly took over again. 

“A day or - Jesus, that is ridiculously bullheaded of you,” He put away his tricorder, gently tucking away an errant hair. “In your state, you would benefit from an IV saline overnight, but I assume that’s a no go.”

You pulled out your best puppy dog eyes at him. 

 “Alright sweetheart, I can make sure you’re comfortable down in our quarters too,” He relented. “You know I would do anything with those eyes.”

“What are you gonna do, hypo me into next week so I don’t have to suffer?” You lifted your eyes hopefully at him. 

“Even better,” He breathed, crowding into your space. “I’ll draw you a bath, even drop in your favorite bath bomb, make some food for you, and then wrap you up so we can snuggle up together on the couch with ice cream to soothe your throat while we watch some holos.”

You leaned on him, already closing your eyes to imagine it all. “Mmm,” you hummed. “I like that.”

Before long, while you were stripping your clothes off into a mess on the floor of your shared quarters, Leonard turned the taps on to fill the tub. 

You rubbed your eyes tiredly as you examined yourself in the mirror. “God damn,” you muttered. 

“Don’t think much of it,” Your boyfriend spoke, turning around to watch you. “You’re sick. Water’s ready.”

You stuck a finger in to test the water, but recoiled instantly at the touch of the icy cold water, and reproachfully glanced back at him. 

“You don’t want the saline, this is the next best way to lower that fever,” was all the explanation you received. 

With an unhappy scowl, you slowly lowered yourself in while Leonard came back with a chair and a washcloth. 

As you laid back back, you let your eyes flutter close, dropping your tense shoulders. 

“That’s it,” The doctor encouraged, gently dabbing away at your forehead with the cold washcloth. “Computer, bathroom light to 30%”

You groaned in earnest, satisfied with the amount of attention you were receiving and the dim lighting you were in. 

“Here, let me wash your hair real fast,” he spoke quietly, reaching over to grab your bottle of shampoo and a jug of warm water he’d placed to the side earlier..

After pouring some water on your head, he squirted a dollop into his hands and slowly massaged it into your hair. Humming an unfamiliar tune, you let yourself drift off in bliss as Leonard worked his way out from the scalp. His long, talented fingers did not miss a place, gently smoothing out each strand out.

It was pure heaven.

Before you knew it, he was pouring the rest of the water to get the suds out. “Let’s get you outta there before you start shivering.” 

Letting the water drain and helping you up to your feet, he grabbed a nearby definitely-not-standard-Starfleet  extremely fluffy towel from the rack and ever so gently dried you off.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you yawned, feeling so much better than just a mere few hours ago.

“Incoming,” he warned, throwing you your pair of pajamas, and lastly, your panties to your face.

You did your best to scowl at him, but failed as you ended up chuckling at his antics.

 “Why don’t you go get yourself comfortable on the couch, and I’ll bring you something to eat?” He suggested, placing another hand on your forehead.

You nodded. When he was satisfied that the heat behind your skin had lessened, he left for the kitchen to get you your dinner. 

Stretching yourself out on the couch, you reached out for the plaid blanket draped over the cushions, while scrolling through the tv guide for something to watch. 

The scent of chicken noodle soup filled the air, turning your gaze towards the hallway as Leonard emerged with two bowls of soup and a hypo all balanced on a tray.

“Found anything eye catching yet?” He asked, carefully handling over your bowl. 

“Not yet,” You replied, thanking him with a nod. “How’s your day been?”

You scooped up spoonful after spoonful of soup as you listen to him talk about those unfortunate to be stuck down in the medbay. Idiots, he had called them. 

When you and Leonard both had your fill, you watched as Leonard picked up the hypo. Knowing the routine, you tilted your head to the side, so he had better access to your neck.You felt his warm fingers splayed around your throat, seeking out a landmark for the injection. 

“Quick pinch,” He warned. You closed your eyes before the slight sting, which was made instantly better by his gentle massage. 

You must have made a noise of happiness as he stopped, softly kissing your forehead. Sickness be damned. He was a doctor, he didn’t get sick.

“Stay right where you are, darlin, and let me go get those ice cream,” He grinned at you, before moving off the couch. 

It took a few minutes before you finally decided on the cheesy, yet classic movie: The Titanic. Leonard returned with two ice creams and spoons, placing them within arms distance  on the coffee table in front.

At last, he snuggled up closer to you, pulling you tighter to him. “What are we watching, sweetheart?”

“The Titanic,” You grinned at him, enjoying the relaxed smile he had beaming on his face. 

“Of course,” He rolled his eyes good naturedly, but settled in.

“Leonard?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

“My pleasure, sugar.”

 (My masterlist is also up for those interested)

[calumance]

LA Devotee - Part VIII

Warnings: much cussing, this part is pretty angsty, ends happily though!

Word count: 3k

Summary: With the guilt of Calum’s kindness eating away at Emily, she figures if he won’t accept payment, there’s only one way to repay him.

A/N: I just wanted to thank everyone for reading and sending me lovely messages. There are not enough words in the English language to explain how much I appreciate all of you. ❤️❤️ Happy reading!! Feedback and requests always welcomed!!! (Want to be notified when I post writing? Let me know, and I’ll tag you!)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII

           When my alarm went off I felt like I could barely open my eyes, almost as if they were glued shut from the tears. Being that I cried myself to sleep, I woke up feeling tired and absolutely drained, like sleeping did almost nothing for me. A voice in the back of my head told me to call in and sleep the entire day, but a girl needs to eat. As I sat up on my bed, the crushing weight in my chest coming back made it hard to find the motivation to pull myself to my feet. Barely being able to keep my eyes open, I fumbled my way through my apartment to find the most lazy business casual outfit I could manage. Flats, leggings, an oversized sweater and a messy bun. As per my usual morning routine, I made my coffee and then left, except I didn’t think there was enough coffee in the world to help me get through this day.

           Under the crushing weight of the boulder sitting on my chest, I could still feel a prick of light when I walked up to the car that is causing the pain. I stopped and stood back from the car for a minute, trying to decide if I actually deserved it or not. My head started to spin as I pulled my phone out and sent Calum a text:“I know I’ve thanked you a million times, I just don’t have any words to explain how I feel right now. Please let me know if there is a way I can repay you. Have a great day, Calum. Xx” As I dropped my phone into my bag, I shook the thoughts out of my head and walked to the car. The engine roared to life and I drove my drained self to work. It was different finding my way to the parking garage and walking into the building a different way than I normally do. I sat at my desk, Mikayla already sitting at hers eating her breakfast. “You look like shit, Emily.” She said with a mouth full of the muffin she was eating.

           Although I wanted to be angry at her, not only did I not have the energy to be mad, but I also knew she was right. A sigh left my chest and I shook my head, “I feel like shit.” My eyes connected to Mikayla’s for a second and then I looked around to see if our boss was in yet. “Come with me real fast.” She nodded and I walked her out into the parking garage. We stood in front of my new car and she looked at me confused. When I pressed the unlock button on the keys, she raised her eyebrows. “He bought me a car, in full, and every time I ask him how he wants me to repay him, he says he doesn’t want to be repaid. I should be fucking ecstatic, right?” She nodded, a large smile stretched across her face, “I fucking cried myself to sleep last night. What the hell is wrong with me?” I squatted down to the point where my butt was hovering over the ground. My arms wrapped around my legs as the tears started to form in my eyes. My head shook as I tried to not let the tears spring free. “I feel so fucking guilty, Mikayla.”

           She placed a hand on my back and told me to go back inside with her. I locked the car and we turned to go back inside, her arm linking with mine. She thought about her words for a minute before taking a breath and starting, “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, feeling guilty about something like that is totally normal. Especially because you’ve only really gone on one real date with him. It is weird for him to buy you a brand new car after one date. But, maybe that’s just the kind of guy he is?” She shrugged and let go of my arm as we reached our desks. “I also think that you’re feeling things you haven’t felt in a really long time. Like, from what you’ve told me, I don’t think your ex would’ve bought you a car even after being together for thirty years.” She smoothed down the back of her dress as she sat in her desk chair, “Mostly, I think you’re feeling a bit overwhelmed. You never really get a chance to sit down and talk to him, do you?” I shook my head, the only time we actually see each other is on the weekend, and when he shows up at my apartment at three in the morning. Mikayla shrugged as she pulled herself closer to her desk. “I still stand by the fact that you should tell him.” She wasn’t wrong, I just still didn’t want to.

           Around noon, my phone went off, scaring the crap out of me since the ding of the ringtone always seems to be a hundred times louder than the music playing. Calum’s name popped up on my screen and my heart skipped a beat. “Good afternoon, Emily. For the millionth time, it’s not a problem. Come over on Friday and we’ll call it even. I hope you have a great day, talk to you later. Xx Cal.” My eyebrows pulled together and I dropped my phone onto my desk, placing my face in my palms. I looked over my computer at Mikayla who was deeply concentrated in what she was doing. I grab one of the headphones out of my ear, “He texts me telling me that if I go over to his house on Friday, he’ll call it even, but I still feel like shit.”

           She stopped what she was doing and sat straight up to look at me, “So, stop worrying about it. If all he wants is to hang out with you and ‘date’ you, then date him.” She raised her eyebrows and twisted off the top of her water bottle to take a drink.

           I ran my hands down my face and shook my head, “I just don’t want him, or anyone, to think I’m taking advantage of him. Because it’s not like I asked him to buy me the car, he just did it, but I can almost promise you people will see it as me taking advantage of him.” My hands dropped to my desk, causing some knick-knacks to clank and fall over. A few eyes looking at me in confusion. I made and apologetic face to everyone and his my face again.

           Mikayla laughed, “I don’t think you’re taking advantage of him, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t think you’re taking advantage of him, stop over thinking everything.” She stood and started grabbing her wallet from her bag. “Are you ready for lunch?” With a hasty nod, I grabbed my wallet and followed her to the elevator.

           Mikayla sat next to me with her food as I read the message for the sixth time. I set my phone down and looked at Mikayla, “What even are we, Mikayla? Like, we’ve hung out multiple times, but we’ve only been on one date, and he buys me a fucking car.”

           After taking a bite, Mikayla shrugged. “Maybe he considers you more.” She raised her eyebrows and chewed for a minute. “Maybe he considers you his girlfriend.”

         My eyebrows stitched together as I stabbed my fork into my food a little harsher than normal, “Don’t you think it’s a little soon for that?” I looked at her without lifting my head and continued to assault my salad.

         She shrugged and swallowed down her food, “Trevor told me he considered us boyfriend and girlfriend after two dates, from the day we met, two dates was two weeks. So, I guess it depends on the couple. However, I believe that you can be dating, and be boyfriend and girlfriend at the same time.” She took another bite and looked at me, “It’s just something you guys have to sit down and talk about.” I clenched my jaw and Mikayla rolled her eyes, “Listen, I know you like him, I’m actually pretty sure you like him more than you think. You are so scared of your past that you’re expecting this to fail. You need to relax, open up to him, and talk to him. Stop trying to hide who you are.”

           I said nothing, she was right. I needed to stop hiding, and running from everything. That’s what I did when I moved here, I ran. In my defense, I had every reason to run from everything that I was running from, but I had almost no reason to run from Calum. With a bit more internal thinking, I finally decided to text him back, “Hi, Cal. The day’s going alright. I have a pretty busy week ahead of me, I would love to come over on Friday, is there anything you would like me to bring? Talk to you later. P.S. I’m afraid of the ocean.”

           It didn’t take very long for him to reply. “No need to bring anything other than your beautiful self, also I think you’re crazy, but google says it’s a popular fear. Does that mean you won’t go to the beach? Xx” A smile stretched across my lips as my cheeks flushed a light pink.

           My fingers danced across the screen as I responded to him, “Can’t wait until Friday. I’ll go to the beach, I just won’t swim. Xx” After the message sent, I locked my phone and smiled to myself, wanting the week to go as quickly as possible.

           When Friday finally did come, I had gotten a little bit more sleep, but the weight that sat on my chest continued to make it hard to breathe. I pulled into Calum’s drive way and parked my car, gripping the steering wheel for half a second before shutting off the car. As I climbed out, I adjusted my blazer and threw my bag over my shoulder. Just as I approached the door, the weight fell from my chest and into my stomach, making me feel as if I was about the throw up on his doorstep. I grabbed my stomach and started to turn around and run away, but Calum opened the door before I could move. “Hey, I heard you pull in.” His eyes ran over me and a smile crept onto his lips. “You look really nice today.” He moved out of the way from the door to give me space to walk in. Before moving, I looked down at myself and thanked him, then sheepishly made my way past him into his house. “Do you want something to drink? I still have a bunch of those drinks I bought for you?”

           “Sure, I’ll take one of those.” He walked into the kitchen and I put my bag on the table by the door. As I followed him into the kitchen, I looked out into his backyard and noticed the ground around his pool was wet. When I looked at him, his hair was wet, but he was wearing fresh clothes. He must’ve been swimming when I pulled up. I scratched the back of my head trying to not think about what his skin looks like wet.

           His hand reaching toward me with a bottle in his hand pulled me out of my thoughts. As I twisted the cap off the bottle, he cracked open a beer for himself and looked at me, “How was your day?” He smiled as he pursed his lips, pressing the bottle against them to take a drink. I just nodded, which caused his eyebrows to pull together. “Is everything alright?” He asked lowering his arm so the bottle was hovering by his stomach.

           “Can we go sit outside?” He nodded and we walked together out into his backyard. After I sat down in one of his wicker chairs, he sat in the one next to me. I continued to wander around in my thoughts until he asked me a second time if everything was alright, this time being a little more concerned. After licking my lips, I finally connected my eyes with his. His brown eyes coated in concern, making my stomach turn slightly. “I know you have told me a million times that I don’t owe you anything for the car, but I also know that I have been holding back on you. I wasn’t wanting to tell you about me for a while, but I finally decided that I am going to repay you by telling you everything there is to know about me.” He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t move a muscle. My voice suddenly became shaky, “But, I feel like once I do tell you everything that you’re not going to want to hang around with me anymore. Which, if that’s how you feel, I’ll respect that and go on my way.” I looked at him and waited for him to respond.

         Calum’s eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but they closed as he continued to stay silent. I sighed as I gathered the strength to tell him everything. My eyes closed as I thought about where to start. Instead of starting slow, a tsunami of word vomit fell from my mouth. “Three months ago, I moved here for a job, which you knew, but what you didn’t know was three months ago was when I signed all of the papers declaring my divorce.” I kept my eyes shut, squeezing them tighter, holding back my tears, “It was a shitty marriage, he was a shitty person, and it only lasted two years. He literally took everything I owned, including my car. The day I met you I got the finalized papers in the mail.” A wave of nausea washed over me and I wrapped my arms around my stomach, my eyes springing open to make sure if I did suddenly vomit, I knew where it was going to land. “I’m so traumatized by everything that happened to me, that I’m terrified that it’s going to happen to me again.” The tears fell down my cheeks, burning on the way down. As I wiped a tear off my face with my pointer finger, I looked at Calum whose eyes were still locked on me. “I’m not even sure if I should be afraid, though, because I don’t even know what we are. I just,” I couldn’t finish, tears began pouring down my cheeks like a waterfall.

           Calum hurriedly put his drink on the table then grabbed either side of my face, brushing the tears away. “Hey,” He cooed, dropping himself so that was he at eye level with me, “Why would you think that would make it so that I didn’t want to hang out with you?”

           My chin quivered trying to hold back more tears. “I didn’t want you to think less of me because I was married, and got a divorce. It was just a shitty relationship and I had to get out of it. I’m actually pretty sure it was an abusive relationship, but I’ve never been to therapy so that’s not exactly conclusive.”

           My eyes fell away from his, and he moved his hands from my face to my shoulders, tugging on me slightly. “Oh, darling, come here.” As I pushed myself away from the chair, he fell backwards onto the ground, sitting do that I could find a place in his lap. He kissed my forehead then wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer to him. My head fell onto his shoulder, and my face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, the tears pouring out again. I was tired, tired of holding this inside, tired of not being able to sleep, tired of fighting all of my demons. A wave of absolute hysterics washed over me as I sobbed into his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his torso. He put his hand on the back of my head and tried to calm me. I couldn’t calm down, everything was washing over me all at once, everything I had been feeling for the past three months finally overflowing.

           Calum held onto me, waiting patiently for me to stop crying. It took a while, but I was finally able to compose myself. I apologized and he shook his head. “Don’t be sorry, everything you’re feeling is completely normal. I don’t have a great romantic past either. The last break up I went through was really ugly, and for a long time I wanted nothing to do with relationships.” He paused and I felt a lump in my throat. “But then I met you.” I lifted my head and looked into his eyes. His hand gently resting on the side of my face, “I don’t care that you got divorced, it doesn’t make you any less of a person. It more makes my heart hurt that someone hurt you like that.” His eyes flickered between mine and he ran his thumb up and down on my cheek, “I can promise you that I will never hurt you, ever.” He paused, and a smile returning to his face, “And if it’s alright with you, I’ve been referring to you as my girlfriend for a few days now. I can stop if you’re not comfortable with that.”

           The feeling of wanting to cry washed over me again, but this time it was happy tears. Instead of crying, I grabbed his face and planted my lips on his. This kiss was different though, it was different knowing that I could kiss him whenever I wanted to. It was different knowing that I could refer to him as my boyfriend. Everything just felt different, but it also felt right. It finally felt like everything was right.

[missharasser]

My cat is not getting better

Hi, it's happening again. What I thought would be something I could forget about is happening yet again, my other cat is sick and with the same disease as the one that died early this year. I was confused as to why he got sick since I care for them a lot, but the vet told me that FLUTD is really common in males. So here I am, once again asking for help. I truly didn't want to do this since I didn't want to come across as someone who always asks for money, but at this point I don't know what else to do, I've been selling my stuff and doing jobs for people but it is not enough.

His name is Castiel, he's two years old and this past two weeks have been a nightmare, I first realized my cat was sick last week on Monday when I arrived home and noticed he couldn't pee at all, he didn't want to eat nor drink and he didn't have the strength to get on the bed. I took him to the vet immediately and they diagnosed him with FLUTD (Feline lower urinary tract disease).

The vet told me they couldn't use the urinary catheter since they didn't know just how big the crystals and sediment in his bladder were, so they appointed me for an urinalysis and an ultrasound. The next day I went to the appointment and they told me they were now sure he had FLUTD, and that he needed to change his diet and that only with antibiotics and a few shots he would be alright.

Sadly that was not the case. One day passed and I went to the vet to get his medicine but he looked weak and still wasn't eating. I was feeding him with re-hydration solutions and some vitamin gel but it wasn't enough. I couldn't give him too much solution either or his bladder would be damaged since he still couldn't pee. They told that if he looked worse that night that I should bring him fast and not wait for tomorrow. That afternoon I spent every ten minutes checking his vitals and making sure his bladder wasn't hard. Sadly at 7pm his pulse dropped and he wasn't breathing as fast so I took him to the vet, they told me he was getting cold and that he was at a risk of hypothermia. He had to be hospitalized that night.

The next day I went to check up on him and he looked really bad and that's when they told me that he indeed had hypothermia and that it had been really difficult to manage also that a surgery was needed. The urethral obstruction (a blockage in the urethra, which is the tube that carries urine from the bladder and out of the body) got worse and while he had started to pee it hurt him so bad since the clumps were bigger than his urethra.

I told them I didn't have any money left and that I would try to gather enough to pay, but business is business and they told me they could only perform the surgery if I paid. That day I sold my graphic tablet, some glasses and did paid homework. I managed to gather enough money and told them they could start the surgery.

That was last Friday. After that he had to stay hospitalized throughout the weekend. On Saturday I went to check up on him. He looked sick and skinny, still a little weak after surgery and he had an IV since he was dehydrated. They told me that if it went well I could pick him up on Monday.

On Monday he looked way better, still a little disoriented but better. They gave him his medicine and told me that I had to come back again so they could check up on him and give him the rest of the medicine. I took him home and he looked so happy to be here. He was rubbing himself on my legs and my hands while I was sitting with him. The next two days were uneventful, he started to eat, pee and was even meowing. On Wednesday I was told that everything was ok and that I only had to come back in 15 days.

Last night was when all went downhill. He refused to eat and he didn't want to drink anymore. At 2am he puked all over the floor and started shaking a little bit. I was worried but I had to wait until morning to take him to the vet.

His ears and paws started to feel cold so I heated some water bottles and wrapped him up in a blanket and hugged him the rest of the night. Today he wasn't as cold as before but not as warm as he should be. I took him to the vet and they said that he had kind of a water bag in the stomach area and that he would need to have surgery performed again to see what's going on. They're worried that that liquid they feel is pee since it could be mortal. He was dehydrated again since he didn't want to drink anything.

They said that since I have been paying on time for the last week that they could wait this time, they will perform that surgery today and I have a week to pay all the bills that are needed during and after surgery.

Up till now I have spent more than $350 (appointments, ultrasound, medicine, shots, hospitalization, surgery, special dry and wet food, transport, etc) and it may sound like it’s not much but in Mexico it is expensive (almost $7000 pesos). I don't know how to make more money. As some of you know I'm a college student and money is not something I have in abundance. I managed to pay all the bills from last week, but it will probably be the same amount now since he will need new pain meds and noninflammatory, also antibiotics and the days he would have to stay hospitalized.

I love my cat. He has helped me a lot with my depression and I truly don't know what I would do without him. The worst thing is that everytime I think of him I'm reminded that my last cat had the same illness and the he couldn't survive. I'm so anxious right now I just want him to be okay. 

If any of you could help I would be really really grateful. If not, it doesn't matter, just good wishes is enough. I'm still selling some stuff I have and doing some jobs when I find the time, but finals are coming and I'm worried I won't have enough time to study and care for my baby.

https://www.paypal.me/letipimhe

I'm sorry for the long post, but I’m desperate and even if I just get some cents I don't care. Anything helps. If you can’t donate please share, I’ll be really grateful. Also if you’d like to see the receipts so you know I’m not lying just tell me.

[buckybabybaby]

Mr Hollywood (Epilogue Part IV)

Final Part!

Summary: Bucky Barnes, an underpaid teaching assistant in a small English village, dreams of a movie career back in his home country of America. He finally gets the break he's always wanted, and if it wasn't for you, his best friend, he wouldn't have been able to take it.

But is that fact enough to save your friendship when it's tested by the pressures of Hollywood?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word count: 2085

Chapter summary: Do you hear wedding bells?

A/n: The final, final, part, I promise!

(If the picture is all blurry, opening it in a new tab in browser helps!)

Warnings: Just fluff. But if you really don't like the idea of getting married, this is not for you.

Previous: Epilogue Part III

Mr Hollywood Masterlist | Main Masterlist

*****

“Bucky? What is up with you tonight?”

“What d'ya mean?”

“You keep fidgeting.”

“Sorry.”

He shifts beside you again before stilling, and you settle back against him to continue watching the movie, cuddling into his warmth, a small smile on your face as he pulls you closer.

It's been so nice having him home for the past few months.

After filming on his début show wrapped following it's forth season, he was inundated with offers of work, and he'd flown back especially to announce his new role was in a British series, filmed mostly on location only a few miles down the road. You had tried to protest, not wanting him to sacrifice his career for you, but when he'd explained it really was the best move, in every sense, you'd been thrilled.

Now, you can't imagine not spending your free time with him.

The weekends are just like they used to be, at the diner, or picnics by the river, sometimes lunch at the local garden centre as you buy yet another packet of seeds, what is different however are the crowds Bucky draws. The public are now aware of the nature of your relationship with him, and whilst he tries to be inconspicuous the two of you together are far too recognisable.

At first he hadn't been keen to subject you to the attention, and the potential backlash, but the number of times he had been wrongly linked to yet another actor was growing out of control, and he felt he had to do something to quash all the rumours.

“I never want you to doubt what we have,” Bucky had said when he told you his plan.

In order to cause as little fuss as possible, one afternoon in the winter just after you got together, he'd posted a picture of you and him at the Hollywood sign, with a simple caption, 'my world'. He had warned you beforehand that not everyone on the internet would be positive, especially when they learnt he's not 'available', but you knew it was for the best.

The general reaction wasn't nearly as bad as you feared. Isabella and her little friends belief that you and Bucky would one day be married appears to have been commonly held within the school, as when you went in on the Monday after his big declaration no one batted an eye. They clearly either thought you two were already together, or were not in the least surprised that it had finally happened, and aside from Edwin's spontaneous hug in congratulations, which caught you off guard in the nicest way, the day passed as any other would.

Even when the press turned up at the front gate, desperate to get a picture of the one who'd stolen the heart of Hollywood's favourite darling. Peggy 'no nonsense' Carter saw to them, and armed with laws and regulations around the sharing of photographs of children, before the morning break they'd been scared away. She also accompanied you home that evening to ensure there weren't any lingering around, wanting to make sure your home was still a safe space, somewhere to escape back to when everything became too much.

Eventually it all died down, and Bucky looks so much happier now he can talk openly about you in interviews, not having to dodge around the subject. Will you ever get used to seeing your name on celebrity gossip sites? Probably not, but it's just part of the crazy roller-coaster that is life with Bucky, and no matter how nasty the journalists can get you know it's all worth it.

By his side you can get through anything.

Back in the present he squirms next to you again, knocking into you as he adjusts his position.

“Bucky?”

“Hmm?”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes.” Looking over at you, he smiles tightly. “Well, maybe. I'm not sure yet.”

Frowning, you pause the movie to give him your full attention. “Anything I can do?”

“Whether everything is okay kinda depends on you,” He says quietly.

Tilting your head as you watch the way he wipes his palms down his thighs, you wonder what's got him so worked up. Now you're thinking about it, you realise he hasn't relaxed properly all evening, despite showering and changing into his pyjamas, he's been paying more attention to tending the fire than enjoying the film. Sitting up, you gently remove his arm from around you so you can rise from your slouched position and get a proper look at his face. It's almost the same look of mild terror he wore four years ago in New York's Central Park, when you had both tripped your way through declarations of love, just before your very first kiss.

It clicks. There's only one reason he'd look like that now.

“Bucky, I know what this is.”

He blinks up at you. “Oh yeah?” He asks, voice high.

“Yes, and you don't need to be so nervous. We've talked about this.”

“I still want...” He trails off, his gaze slipping to the dying embers in the fireplace.

“Bucky?”

“Hmm.”

“I love you, you know?”

His face softens at your declaration. “Yeah. I do.”

“And you know there's no proper way to do this, no perfect way, and no way to mess it up either.

“I know. I just want it to be special for you. Please let me try at least.”

“All right.” You sit back in your seat, buzzing with anticipation as he collect his thoughts. Licking his lips, he takes a shaky breath, looking back across at you as he begins to speak.

“Y/N. My love. My best friend. These four years have been everything I've ever wanted, and even before then, your friendship completely changed me, for the better I hope. Thank you for always keeping my feet on the ground.”

“You're the sole reason I'm where I am today, and without you I'd be lost. I knew you were someone special from the moment we first met, outside the school gates. Do you remember?

“'Course. Mrs Jenkins hasn't been able to look me in the eye since.”

He laughs brightly. “Well, you were very quick to shut her down when she asked if I even had the right qualifications to teach.”

“I wasn't too snappy, was I?”

“Nah. My Y/N? Never.” His manner turns serious again, sitting up straight and maintaining eye contact. “I want to thank you Y/N. Thank you believing in me when I didn't. Thank you for giving me the confidence to keep going. And thank you for always being there, for forgiving me despite giving you every reason not to. I couldn't live in this world without you.”

“I couldn't live without you either Bucky,” You croak, your emotions getting the better of you. Reaching across to squeeze your thigh, he waits for your gazes to meet again before continuing. “Which brings me to a very important question.”

You nod encouragingly, grinning through the gathering tears.

“I'm gonna do this bit properly, so,” He slides off the sofa, kneeling before you and taking hold of your left hand, his own eyes watering as he peers up at you. “Y/N Y/L/N, light of my life, most beautiful person I've ever met, will you do me the honour of marry-”

“Yes!”

“-ing me?” He finishes, even as you're pulling him up to kiss clumsily. Knocked off balance by your enthusiasm, he ends up crushing you into the cushions, his body relaxing against yours when you refuse to let go.

Bucky always kisses you like he doesn't know when he'll next get a chance, and this time is no different. Tongues find each other as you hook one of your legs over his hips, the taste of salt from both of your tears only making the moment sweeter as you gasp into each others mouths, fingers lacing above your head as you try to get as close as possible.

Breaking away at length to breathe, you sigh contentedly, running your fingers through Bucky's hair as he traces his own along your sides.

“Didn't ever imagine you'd propose to me in your pyjamas,” You murmur after a minute or two.

“Sorry! If you want-”

“Bucky, shush. I'm teasing. This is perfect.”

He presses a kiss to your knuckles. “I'm sorry I haven't got a ring either.”

“That's all right too. With my job I wouldn't wear it often anyway.”

“But I will get you one. Gotta do it properly, every little detail.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

To prevent him from promising anything more extravagant, you lean up to touch your lips to his, softer now the initial elation has dimmed slightly into comfortable bliss. His body is still trembling with the pent up nerves, making your heart skip, so in love with this man you could explode.

“Was it really that scary for you to ask me to marry you?”

“Yes,” He laughs, resting his head against your neck.

“Golden Globe winning Bucky Barnes was scared to ask little ol' primary school teacher Y/N to marry him?”

“Technically, it was James Barnes who won the Golden Globe. Bucky is just your boyfriend-”

“Fiancé.”

“-Fiancé, who still can't believe he's got this lucky, so yes, I was scared.”

“You knew what I was going to say, though?”

“It wasn't so much your answer I was scared of, just making sure I got it right for you.”

Melting under him at his words, you let him trail his lips down your throat as your mind wanders to the big day.

“Oh!”

“What?” Bucky asks, not lifting his head off your shoulder.

“I was just thinking about how many flower girls and boys we're going to have to have. Amelia and Benjamin, obviously. Edwin and Ana's children, even Spencer, he's old enough isn't he? Or he will be by the time it happens. Isabella is almost too old now she's twelve, nearly a teenager.”

He chuckles at your rambling. “You know she'll still want to be one. It's all she ever asks me about when you're not in the room.”

“Really?”

“All the time.”

“Can't let her down then. And what about your best man? Dayton or Sam?”

“Err.” Bucky pauses his kisses to contemplate his answer. “Now you're asking.”

“Which one will have the most embarrassing stories? Pick them.”

“In that case then, neither.”

“Would it really be that bad?” You giggle, squishing his cheeks between your hands. “I know everything already.”

“True. But does your mum need to? Or mine for that matter? I wasn't exactly an angel during college. Or at any wrap party, ever.” He winks at you when you stick your tongue out in mock disgust. “Don't act so innocent Y/N. We both know what happened in that bathroom at the NTA's.” 

Releasing his face, you look away as your own heats up. “Dunno what you're talking about.”

Bucky hums, grinning cheekily. “No? I'm sure Sam remembers what he walked in on.”

You slap his chest lightly. “Don't make it sound so filthy! Nobody was naked, nothing explicit was going to happen. I was just happy for you.”

“Very happy, I'd say.”

Rolling your eyes as he snickers into your hair, you shuffle into the corner of the sofa to allow him to lay beside you, foreheads touching as you breathe each other in.

“We're engaged Bucky,” You whisper gleefully, linking your hands together and pulling them to rest over your heart. “Lucky you. Must feel like winning an Oscar, getting to marry me,” You joke, smiling so wide it hurts.

“Better.” Bucky says it so matter of factly, with such a straight face, that your breath catches.

“Remember to talk about me in your acceptance speech when you do win one, then.”

“If I win one.”

“When, Bucky. When you win. And I'll be right there by your side so you won't forget who to thank first.”

“Okay, if you say so. When I win I promise to mention how being your husband is better than any academy award, in front of millions of viewers and a roomful of fellow professionals. Should pick up a few 'ideal partner' points if nothing else.”

He beams at you as your body shakes with laughter, knowing that he is ridiculous enough to keep that promise.

“Seriously though Y/N.” His lips brush yours once, twice, three more times before he pulls back enough so you can see just how much he means it. “Being with you is like winning an Oscar every day.”

*****

A/n 2: This really is the end now, however much I'll miss them. But I can't just keep dragging it on, mainly because I've run out of ideas! I couldn't write their wedding for so many reasons, one, I couldn't keep it gender neutral as easily, and two, I just wouldn't know where to start! So just imagine it yourself. Sam is definitely gonna be there, along with Bucky and Y/N's entire families, Peggy of course, Edwin, Ana and their children, a guest list and a half, definitely a day to remember! But not something I could write, so this is the natural end of their tale... :(  

So here is my 3rd (probably?) thank you note! It's the middle of February now and I posted the first chapter of this fic in the middle of June last year, a whole eight months ago, so if you've been here from the beginning just know I love you and thank you so much for sticking with me. This hasn't been the most consistently updated story but we've got there in the end! And it you've commented at any point, please know I treasure every single word. I write for myself, the story I want to read, with the sort of characters I would like to have in my life, so if anyone else enjoys it too then that it just a bonus!

I have another idea for a slow burn series, and hopefully it won't be too long until I post that. More Bucky x reader, of course ;) so if you've liked this, maybe you'll like that too! Stick around, basically!

Once again, thank you so much for reading! xoxo

Main Masterlist

[freddiesaysalright]

Catching Up Part IV

A Joe Mazzello x Reader Story

Summary: Reader is a writer for an entertainment news network and after Joe comes in to do an interview, they reconnect.

Word Count: 2.6K

Tag List: @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @jennyggggrrr, @somethinginthewayiam, @grandaddy-roger-trash, @rogerloveshiscar, @hopefully-aesthetically-pleasing, @danamaleksworld If you’d like to be added let me know!

Part I  Part II  Part III 

Part IV here we go!!!

Monday rolled around and you dreaded going back to work. Although, you knew Joe was coming in to re-do the Bohemian Rhapsody interview, so you had that to look forward to. The past few days with him had been bliss. Cute dates and great sex. You couldn’t have been happier. The only damper was that Joe was leaving New York a week after the interview at your station. He’d be back the next month, but going so long without seeing him was going to be the wait of a lifetime.

You walked into the newsroom, humming to yourself. You stopped in your tracks when you saw Don sitting at your desk, smiling eerily at you. You shot him a questioning glance as you slowly approached.

“‘Sup?” he said when you reached him.

“Good morning,” you returned. “Is something wrong?”

“Come on, let’s go in my office and talk,” he said.

You set your purse in your seat when he stood up. You shook your jacket off your shoulders and followed him. He closed the door behind you. You worried for a moment he was going to ask you to do the interview again, even though Emily was already at her desk. You took a hesitant seat across from him.

“What’s going on, Don?” you asked.

“Are you seriously going out with Joe Mazzello?” he replied.

Your gaped at him. “I - I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“It is my business,” he said. “When our own magazine Tweets pictures they caught of you two together this weekend.”

Your heart sunk. You thought you’d been so careful.

“Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is for us?” he said, raising his voice slightly. “One of our own writers is sleeping with a source!”

“Hey!” you cried. “He’s just doing a promotional interview. This isn’t an ongoing story. Even if it was, I’m not the reporter on it, so it doesn’t violate any ethical rules!”

“So you are sleeping together?” he wondered.

“You know I’m not going to answer that,” you returned levelly. You were impressed with your own composure. Anger was boiling in the pit of your stomach.

“You can’t see him anymore.”

“You can’t ask that of me.”

You glowered at each other over his desk for a moment. He sighed, rubbing his temples.

“I just don’t get it,” he said almost under his breath, but you still heard.

“There’s nothing to get,” you replied. “Joe and I are two adults having a relationship. It’s no one’s business but ours. If those are your only concerns, I’ll be going now.”

You stood up, turning on your heel and going for the door. He leapt to his feet and grabbed your arm to stop you, turning you to face him. Then, before you could ask what he wanted, he kissed you. You scrunched up your face and shoved him hard away from you.

“What the hell, Don?” you demanded. “Is all this because you’re jealous?! You don’t even like me!”

He looked down, clearly embarrassed. “It’s - uh - well, it’s a weird self preservation thing. When I like someone, I’m ruder to them.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” you returned. “I’m going to say something to you that is insubordinate and grounds for termination, but you need to hear it. If you are attracted to a woman, man up and ask her out. You’re an adult, so quit pulling pigtails.”

You stood there, waiting for him to tell you to pack up your desk, but he just looked at you, shocked.

“Well?” you said. “Are you going to fire me or do I have to tell you how to do that too?”

He rolled his eyes, his usual self returning at last. “You’re not fired. Just...don’t mention this to anyone. I’m sorry.”

“Fine,” you said coldly, and you swept out of the room.

You walked over to your desk. You looked up and saw, once again, the four stars of Bohemian Rhapsody coming into the newsroom for their interview. This time, when you caught Joe’s eye, you smiled. He winked and you waved at him. His presence made your anger melt away. Don didn’t matter.

Putting off your work, you made your way to the green room to say hello.

“Welcome back, guys,” you said warmly.

They all said their thanks as you went to Joe and wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head on his chest. He kissed the top of your head and you hummed with satisfaction.

“What’s up, babe?” he asked.

“I just like holding you,” you said.

“Well, then by all means, carry on,” he said lightly.

You considered for a moment telling him about what happened between you and Don, but decided against it. He was about to do an interview Don was producing, and you didn’t want any tension there. Especially on Joe’s end since he would be on camera.

Emily came into the room shortly afterward. She was definitely made for daytime television. She had think, beautiful blonde hair. Round, brown doe eyes, and a wide, sparkly smile. She was so pretty, but it was hard to be jealous of her because she was also so kind.

“Hey!” she greeted, her thick Georgia accent coming through already. She took in you and Joe. “Aw, y’all are cute! Good for you, Y/N!”

You and Joe looked at each other and smiled in a way you were sure was disgusting to the onlookers in the room.

“Well, I’m Emily,” she said, shaking hands with all of them. “I just wanted to come by and introduce myself before we got started. And apologize for last week. I heard Don was pretty rude.”

“Well, to Y/N, yeah,” said Joe. “But not to us.”

“Still, it was unprofessional,” she said. “He’s still producing the segment, though.”

“Really, it’s alright,” said Gwilym.

As if summoned by the mention of him, Don poked his head in the door. You refused to meet his gaze, burying your face in Joe’s chest and closing your eyes.

“Emily, gentlemen,” he said, nodding to them. “We’re gonna get started in just a few minutes. Y/N, if you could get back to your desk and do some actual work, please.”

You rolled your eyes. To be extra snarky, you kissed Joe long and passionately before you left. But when you got to your desk, you ignored your work further. You jumped on Twitter - which wasn’t abnormal since you often wrote for the social media accounts associated with the network - and found the magazine’s page. The first thing up under the pinned Tweet was the picture of you and Joe. It was a nice picture. You were grinning at each other.

The Tweet just said your name, under your byline, and that you and Joe were the “new flame.” It had pretty good traffic too. There were about two hundred comments, eight hundred retweets, and one thousand likes. You clicked on it to read the replies, hoping that no one recognized you. You had not posted a picture of yourself online since the ones your ex leaked, for fear that someone would reverse search and match your face to the one in the nudes.

The replies were mostly shocked emojis, people congratulating you and Joe, or something nasty about your appearance. You read every single one of them, looking for any chance that someone had linked your image. You breathed a sigh of relief when you read the last one and it hadn’t happened. You kept the page open to keep an eye on it in case that changed. But for now, you could breathe a sigh of relief.

When the interview was over, Joe took you to lunch. You chose a casual place and got burgers. You laughed and talked together. At one point you were tossing French fries at each other, trying to catch them in your mouths, much to the amusement of a baby at the next table over, who giggled, high pitched and adorable.

“Oh, hey, bud,” Joe cooed. “Didn’t see you there.”

The baby gurgled some nonsense back and Joe nodded thoughtfully. “You make a very good point, there. I agree.”

A smile parted your lips as you looked on at Joe having a full, made-up conversation with this little baby boy. It was the sweetest thing you’d ever seen.

“What’s that?” Joe said, leaning closer as the boy said something that sounded like “a-goo.” Joe looked between you and the boy. “Well, you can tell her that yourself.” A beat passed and then the boy went “ga!” loudly and pumped his tiny fists in the air. “Alright, I’ll tell her if you’re really that shy about it.” He looked at you. “He says you look very beautiful today.”

You brought your hand to your chest and gasped dramatically. “My, my! What a kind compliment from such a handsome boy!” You looked at the baby and wiggled a finger at him.

Finally, the mother, who had been in deep conversation with her girlfriends, noticed you and Joe entertaining her son. She smiled.

“Wow, I didn’t realize Russell was over here making some new friends,” she said kindly.

“He’s quite the chatterbox,” said Joe, offering his hand to shake. “I’m Joe, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

“Nancy,” she replied. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for keeping him busy.”

“No problem,” you assured her.

“He is a great conversationalist,” Joe continued. “And a bit of a flirt.”

She chuckled. “Would you like to hold him?”

“Heck yeah!” he replied.

Smiling still, she took Russell from his carrier. He shrieked with excitement as she put him in Joe’s arms. He twisted his face up to earn laughter from Russell. They babbled back and forth to each other and you thought your heart might explode from how adorable it all was.

“Honey, you need to keep him,” Nancy said to you under her breath. “He’s gonna be an incredible dad one day.”

“We’re just starting out,” you told her. “But it’s something to keep in mind for sure.”

Russell and Nancy left shortly after, but you looked at Joe like he hung the moon.

“You really like kids, huh?” you observed.

“Oh, yeah,” he returned. “My nephews are like, the lights of my life.”

“That’s so sweet,” you said. “Are you going to see them while you’re in town?”

He nodded. “Yeah, actually. This afternoon. But I’m free the rest of the week if you want to spend some time before we leave.”

“Absolutely,” you returned. “I already took the time off work.”

“Aw, you didn’t have to do that,” he said.

“I want to be with you, Joe,” you said. “Work just isn’t as important.”

He smiled and leaned over the table for a kiss. You thought of how your day started compared to what you were feeling now. Don didn’t matter. Twitter pictures didn’t matter. All you needed was Joe to take you out of your fear and and anxiety.

The week passed far too quickly. You took Joe to the airport, parked, and walked him inside. You hated that you couldn’t go all the way to the gate with him, but he had a little bit of  time before he absolutely had to be there. After he checked his bag, he came back to you. Hot tears filled your eyes and you tried to wipe them away before he saw. He still saw.

“Aw, baby, don’t cry,” he said, pulling you into his arms. “I’ll call you every night. And, if you’re comfortable with it, we can face time.”

You looked up at him, color draining from your face. “I don’t know about that.”

“That’s okay,” he said, rubbing your arms. “Like I said, only if you’re comfortable.”

You rested your forehead on his chest, relishing each moment you had him here in your arms. Where you could really feel him there with you. You etched the details into your memory to hold you through the next eight weeks until he returned. The rhythm of his heartbeat. The soft warmth of his skin. The way he drummed his impatient fingers against you.

He leaned in and kissed you, and you gave the kiss similar treatment. Although, with the way he kissed you it was hard to concentrate. It was passionate and yet soft. Romantic. A kiss to remember on nights you missed him most.

“I’m not saying this to freak you out, okay?” he said. “But Y/N, I really think I’m falling in love with you.”

Neither of you had used the word “love” before. It felt soon, but it also didn’t. It didn’t scare you to hear that from Joe. In fact, it excited you. You beamed through your tears.

“I’m falling in love with you too,” you said.

He sighed, relieved, and kissed you again. He checked his watch.

“I’ve got to get through security,” he said.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you told him.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” he returned.

With one last kiss and squeeze of your hand, he let go. You watched him until he disappeared through the line. It felt like your whole heart was going with him.

The weeks without Joe passed in a haze. You were exhausted all the time and becoming oddly emotional about him. Each time you hung up with him at night, you cried to yourself a little, missing him so much. You were an emotional person, but you’d never felt so weepy before. It concerned you, but you knew you’d also never felt this strongly about someone before.

After a month of Joe being gone, you were finishing up your feature article on up and coming female directors. The deadline was the following day, and you were making the final edits before submitting it to your editor to look over.

A sudden wave of nausea hit you. You felt your stomach churn uncomfortably, and you pressed your hand to it, frowning. You’d had a normal breakfast so you couldn’t imagine what was causing this. Your body heaved, and you jumped up to run to the bathroom. You just barely made it into a stall - not even having time to lock it behind you - and you vomited into the toilet. It took a few minutes before you were done and sat back on the floor.

“Rough night?” came the voice of Don from the door.

You jumped and squeaked with fright. “God, Don! I know this is a unisex, but don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry,” he said. “Are you sick? Do you need to go home?”

“I don’t know,” you replied.

“Well, whatever this is, I don’t want it spread around the office,” he said. “Go ahead and take the day off.”

Tears sprang to your eyes. “Don…that’s so nice.”

“Holy shit, it’s not that nice,” he said, eyes widening. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Everything makes me cry recently, so I’m sorry for the waterworks,” you said with a sniffle. “But I probably should go home.”

“Please do,” he said. “I’m...so uncomfortable.”

You thanked him again before leaving the office and heading home. When you entered your apartment, Christy was there, reading on the couch. She worked in an upscale restaurant that was only open in the evening, so she was home all day.

“You’re home early,” she said.

“Yeah,” you said, wiping tears from your face.

“Everything okay?” she wondered, setting the book down.

“I don’t know,” you told her.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m so tired, I’m emotional as hell, and I just threw up at work. In front of Don.”

“Jesus,” she muttered. “I hope you’re not pregnant.”

You stared at her, wide eyed. She sighed.

“Let’s go to the store.”

You went together and picked up a couple tests. When you came home and took them, the result was always the same. Pregnant. You still had two weeks before Joe returned to New York. How on Earth were you going to tell him?

[justinsdaysinthedark]

Post # 6 - It is what it is

I'd be lying if I said I haven't spent the past half an hour with tears flowing from my eyes staring at a blank screen wondering how I'm going to get everything I've got floating in my head out. I suppose listening to Coldplay live in Argentina probably wasn't the best choice of music to set the mood. I'll work on that one in the future...

Where do I start? It's been a question I'm often asking myself at the start of these blog posts and it's certainly not the easiest one. What do you guys know? There's been so much happen since my last post on Thursday night.

Friday July 26th: I saw my doctors around lunchtime who came in quite concerned. Whilst they were confident my lymphoma was one called DLBCL (Diffuse Large B- Cell Lymphoma), some tests had come back with suspect results that it could be a more aggressive and harsh type of lymphoma called Burkitt's lymphoma and if confirmed, chemo was starting that night with no time to waste. There was also one marked in the middle (a cross of the two) called Burkitt's Like Lymphoma which is treated similarly to DLBCL. Whatever it was, I couldn't change it. I just wanted answers and if treatment needed to start, let's get it underway!

Adam, my incredible haematology doctor sent off another test of my gall bladder to finally get the confirmation I was after. It was urgent. He had to know. It was reassuring of Adam to state "Justin, we need to know what this is. Preliminary results are due back later this afternoon and that will hopefully rule out Burkitt's. if it is Burkitt's, we'll start chemo tonight and I'll be with you every step of the way - even if I have to stay back a few hours."

I know doctors earn a fair coin on a lazy day, but how many give you that much confidence that you and your health is important to them? I'm going to have it a guess and say not many but alas, I am so incredibly lucky with the team of doctors I have.

4:00pm and Adam strolls in the door heading straight for my room. My heart drops, similarly to what it had when Michael dropped the news I had lymphoma. "Good news. Preliminary results are back and we're confident it's not Burkitt's. You can't rule out anything in life, so there still is a small chance it could be. We're happy to wait for the final results on Monday, figure out a treatment plan from there and start Chemotherapy next week. Spend Saturday and Sunday on day leave and I'll see you next week."

This was news to my ears. In a time of what has been negative or no news, I could spend the weekend with family relatively freely and forget everything was happening for a few hours each day. My Uncle Bob and Aunty Denise were down from Tasmania to see me, as was my Aunty AJ and cousins from Bairnsdale so it all felt like it fit into place.

Friday night saw me considerably more relaxed with this news...that was until Collingwood started and it was the demolition it was. Slightly humorous side note, the nurse came in around 9pm for my nightly observations. Naturally, my heart rate was up a bit more than normal watching the football (118BPM - normally between 70-85BPM). This caused the nurse to call in the team of doctors who wanted to put me on an ECG machine for the night and monitor my heart. I assured them it was because Collingwood were on and if they gave me an hour, I'd be okay. It took some convincing, but it finally worked. Back they came an hour later and it had gone down - crisis averted.

Saturday afternoon and evening was wonderful. I went down to dads for dinner and was fortunate enough to spend some much needed time with family over a beautiful dinner and good laugh.

Sunday was much the same. I went home, mum did a fair chunk of washing for me as I spent it being me. Seeing Courtney, napping in my own bed and even headed over to Fountain Gate and got some much needed new clothes and other miscellaneous items - something that seems so simple but is such a luxury when you've spent the past 15 days in hospital.

Monday July 29th: They say the more you think positively, the more positive news you shall receive....or it goes something like that right? I woke up this morning the most upbeat and best I'd felt in weeks. I felt fine. I felt no pain, almost like I'd woken up from a shitty hotel! In all honesty, I felt like I'm abusing the system however I keep being quickly reminded how much I need to be here. Did I wake up so positive because I lived my old life for 16 hours over the weekend? Is it because I was hoping to hear a reasonably positive outcome with this lymphoma test? Probably a mix of both if I'm honest. But whatever it was, I was hopeful.

Adam came around at roughly 10:00am. Didn't really have much for me in terms of news but more of an outline of the day. If they hear the results of the test they were waiting on, they'd write me up a treatment plan ASAP and get chemo started this afternoon. At worst, I'd be starting it tomorrow (Tuesday). They just needed that definitive answer of what type of lymphoma I have - an answer I'd love more than anybody.

Either way, we agreed i'd need a PICC (Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter) line in which basically is a long-term cannula. It runs from the inside of my arm right up and around and stops basically just outside my heart. This is for easy access for the chemotherapy and even an easy exit for blood tests - something that's proven incredibly difficult to take from me over the past few days. Additionally, these lines can last up to six months verses the three days you get from a cannula. There were too many positives to say no to!

This wasn't scheduled for any time in particular, so 1:00pm came around and I was about to be taken to get the PICC line in.

Just as I was about to leave, Adam came in with a few words I'm all too familiar with. "Well, the pathology tests we were waiting on have come back inconclusive..."

Woah. Wait. What? How do tests of my gall bladder that was removed six days ago come back inconclusive? How does one of the main sources not have enough 'data' to tell them what sort of lymphoma I have? I was just stunned.

Adam continued "As a result, we can see some signs of Burkitt's lymphoma and that's what we're going to treat you for. You're young. You should be able to handle it and it's better to over treat you than under treat and be stuck where we are at the moment. It's an intense 16-day chemo treatment that will totally wipe out your red and white blood cells as well as your platelets. We foresee you being in here for another 3-5 weeks, depending on how well your body goes getting these levels back up to normal post this first treatment..."

I honestly say this but that's all I remember from this conversation. I was hoping I'd be heading home this week but looks like that definitely won't be happening. Today marks day 40 of the past 55 days in hospital (day 15 of this stint) and if I go off the longest suggested time expected, I have another 35 days to go. That honestly crushed me.

I got taken down to get my PICC line in - quite an easy process. Very similar to putting in a larger cannula, just a whole lot longer and uses local anaesthetic as well as being guided by an ultrasound and X-ray. I'm lucky enough to have two ports, which will hopefully speed up some of my medication and how much they can pump in. Does it feel weird? The only weird part was feeling it slide down past and near my heart - but that's okay now!

By the time I return, dad made his was in to try and help process the news. We get Adam in to once again explain the process. In layman's terms, I'll be starting an intense and high-dose 16-day chemotherapy program kicking off tomorrow (Tuesday) morning. Most of the time across the next 16 days, I'll be hooked up via IV drip getting whatever medication is required. I think I saw I have rest days on days 7 & 8 which I suppose will give me two days to look forward to. At the end of the day, it's something I'm not certain on and will be a day by day process and constant learning about what's going into my body to help fight with me.

I do have one request for you all. With my body not producing red or white blood cells or platelets over the next few weeks, I do request if you are planning to visit however are sick to stay away those extra few days. With my immune system going to be at the lowest it's been, I don't particularly want to pick up something I don't need. Additionally, as much as I'd love flowers, they're also banned due to the infection risk of the spores mixing with the chemotherapy and causing some dangerous damage from the inside.

At the end of the day, if you're not sure please message me and check as I'm not entirely sure myself about everything. I'm constantly learning as I'm going.

How am I feeling? I'm nervous. I'm nervous at the unknown. How will this affect me? How bad am I going to feel? Will I lose my hair? What will my energy levels be like? In advance, I do apologise if over the next few weeks I'm not myself. Truth be told, that's because I probably won't be.

In a way, i'm finally excited to start my treatment first thing tomorrow morning (after yet ANOTHER lumbar puncture). I was so envious of both people next to me getting their first rounds of chemo today. I know mine will be intense but I just can't wait.

I've learnt so much about cancer and chemotherapy over the past four days and I know there's so much more to learn. Today I learnt I'll be incredibly highly cytotoxic, which basically means all needles and anything used on me need to go in a separate bin just for me. Additionally, I'll have to get used to the good old double flush after the toilet to ensure all waste is disposed of. Mouth ulcers are a big issue with most chemo patients as well. I'll have to start brushing my teeth after every meal and taking a special mouthwash 3x daily to assist with keeping these under control. There's plenty of other little things, but they're two I least expected.

Everything really hit me last night....not like it did tonight though. I just had twenty minutes to reflect and it just became a sudden realisation. What I'm going through is real. It's not a 'joke' anymore. It's not something they're looking at as a potential cause. It is the cause. I have a legitimate medical issue and it's finally time to fight lymphoma. All well and good to be talking the talk like I have been - it's now time to walk the walk. This sits well with me. If I give somebody my word, I do whatever I can to get it achieved. Unfortunately for the lymphoma throughout my body I've given it my word and it's time to fight it. Round one begins tomorrow morning.

I leave tonight feeling a whole lot better than I did when I started tonight's post. I didn't learn from my words earlier as Coldplay live from Argentina is still playing however I'm in a much more comfortable mind space.

My best friend of a lazy 20 years, Dylan visited tonight with his partner, Jacqui. One phrase popped up more than most and they made me aware it was a common phrase coming out of my mouth.

"It is what it is."

I can't control what's happened to me as "it is what it is." What I can control from here though is how I fight lymphoma. Thanks for the visit tonight guys, I appreciated the two hours spent here in what's been an incredibly tough afternoon.

Much love.

Juzz xx

[adhdisgay]

helloo ive been thinkin lately of finally getting a diagnose for adhd cos everytime i read about it my brains like “dats us !” so ive thought for a while that thats what i have and honestly the posts where u talk about not needing a diagnose to have like “the right” to say u have adhd are so encouraging and nice i love them. anyways i really want a diagnose so i can get some meds so i can actually focus and get shit done and i wanted to knwo how has ur experience been with taking meds? thanks 💚

aw omg, I’m glad my posts help! I know when I was on the diagnosis journey I often felt like I couldn’t even like adhd posts bc it wasn’t confirmed, so I want to make sure others don’t feel the way I did

my experience with meds has been an interesting one, that’s for sure! i started with meds about two and a half years ago.  they weren’t adhd meds, but before I was diagnosed I was originally put on anti-depressants and anxiety meds since my undiagnosed adhd gave me killer anxiety.  they mostly just made me sleepy and I would miss class because I was knocked out, so I stopped taking them.

once my adhd was diagnosed, I was put on 20mg of Adderall XR (the XR lasts all day vs. IR which is the more short-term medicine).  it definitely helped me focus, but I had TERRIBLE dry mouth and lack of appetite at first.  luckily those symptoms eventually went away for me!  the other thing I didn’t like was that it wasn’t a consistent boost of energy.  I would get a mild euphoria about an hour in and be ON TOP OF MY SHIT for the afternoon.  I would get everything done.  I was unstoppable.  I could kick the sun.  but then 5pm hit and I would crash, hard.

so I asked to be taken down to a lower dosage, and they put me on 15mg Adderall XR.  that one worked much better for me!  I still got a small rush an hour or so in and would still hit a small crash later on, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the stronger dose. I also rarely took my meds on the weekend, so I had a break from the effects every now and then.

this past winter I was switched to a different insurance that only covered generic Adderall, and I did NOT like that.  I don’t remember the manufacturer, but I have read online that people react differently to different manufacturers, so don’t take my experience with generic as everyone’s experience.  while I didn’t have a rush/crash, the effects just… didn’t end.  I could not sleep on generic.  I stopped taking medication because 1) I literally wasn’t sleeping, which was making me anxious and causing me to get sick, and 2) I finished college classes.

now I’m not taking any, though I would like to be.  my need for medication isn’t as strong now that I’m out of classes, but even working full-time was rough without them after a few weeks.  I think potentially trying Adderall IR might help me if I’m still stuck with generics.

so it’s up to you! medication isn’t for everyone, and it also causes different reactions for each person.  I know some people hate how Adderall makes them feel, but it worked very well for me.  on the other hand, some people love the generic stuff that was The Worst for me.

I would recommend being upfront about your concerns/questions with your provider! they will have a lot of answers, and in my experience are more likely to believe you if you already come prepared.  I had some providers accuse me of trying to just ‘get drugs,’ and being upfront about how I just wanted to see how medications worked for me helped ease that tension (hopefully you don’t experience that, though!).

Definitely stick with any medication you’re trying for at least two weeks, unless the side effects are so bad that you can’t.  it took a long time for my appetite suppression and dry mouth to go away, but once they did I felt amazing and productive on my meds.  it was still difficult for me to eat, but not impossible, and I was able to make it work.

that was an EXTREMELY long answer, but I hope that was able to help!  if you have any more questions since this was asked forever ago, or anything specific that I didn’t touch on, feel free to send another question or send me a message!  I’d love to help

[astronomyparkers]

The Upside of Falling Down {IV}

Warnings: Language, mentions of nsfw content

Pairing: University!Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: So. It’s been about three months since I updated this fic??? I would like to sincerely apologize for the wait.  University is hard and I was just completely swamped and dealing with four breakdowns per week and then I had a bunch of family issues but!!!!! My finals are just starting and then I will be free to write!!!! So I hope to have updates that are much more frequent.  Thank you so much for sticking with this story, as it means the world to me.  All my love.

{masterlist}

Your dorm was pitch black, with the only light coming from the LED screen of your alarm clock. Outside, rain continued to pour down, thunderous on the roof of your building.  Under normal circumstances, the comforting noise would have lulled you to sleep long ago, but your mind was too wired to reach unconsciousness. With a frustrated sigh, you turned over onto your back, staring at the ceiling above you.  The girl that had lived here last year had plastered glow in the dark stars all over the dorm roof, and although you had no idea how she got away with creating a model of the night sky, you always stared at them and tried to make out the constellations when you couldn’t sleep.  

Your hand reached up and traced the outline of Ursa Major as your mind recalled how you had traced the lines and planes of Peter’s body earlier.  Sex with Peter Parker had not been something you ever thought would happen, or something you ever thought you wanted to happen.  When you had woken up from the post sex nap, you had slipped out of bed and gotten dressed as quickly as possible before creeping out of the dorm; you hadn’t even looked back at Peter’s sleeping form before you shut the door behind you.  You had thought that you would put the whole incident behind you, chalk the whole thing up to anger-driven lust, and forget about it, yet your mind wouldn’t shut off. It was like you were stuck playing a highlight reel of the entire encounter.  You could feel the ghost of his touch all over your body, and it was driving you insane—partially because thinking about being touched like that again was…something, but mostly because it was Peter.

For the past month, you had had this weird pseudo-friendship with him.  You didn’t particularly like him, he didn’t particularly like you, and you were nervous about accidentally spilling his Spider-Man secret twenty four/seven, but at least you knew where you stood.  When he said that you two were dating, it changed things.  And when you slept with him, it changed things again.  You had no idea how to act around him now; how would you look him in the eye after everything that you two had done?  And, even more concerning, how would you look him in the eye now that you knew just how good he was at pleasuring you?

Because that was the problem.  If Peter had been mediocre or barely halfway decent at sex, you could’ve forgotten about it. You really could have.  But somehow, between being a straight A student and an Avenger, he had also found time to become really good at sex, and honestly?  It wasn’t fair.  There was a pyramid of ideal qualities that you looked for in a guy, with the three points being smart, kind hearted, and good in bed, but so far, any guy who you had applied the pyramid test to had fallen prey to what you and your friends called the Bermuda Triangle of Boyfriends Bind.  Any guy who you were interested in never fulfilled all three categories.  While a boy could be smart and good in bed, he was a dick personality-wise.  If he was kind and intelligent, he seemed to be unaware of how a vagina actually worked.  You never actually thought that you would find someone who checked every box at once, or that it would be someone you couldn’t actually stand.

It was a bind, indeed.

 Eventually, you drifted off to sleep, but it was a restless one that left you feeling worse when your alarm went off the next morning.  You slapped it off and groaned, tearing off your covers before you realized that it was the weekend.  You had planned to use the day to study and catch up on readings, but you decided that your GPA could handle you sleeping in for a little bit.  Climbing back into bed, you closed your eyes and pulled the blanket tight around you, trying to get a little bit more rest.

By the time you made it out of bed, showered, and got dressed, it was early afternoon.  Dressed in your comfiest leggings, sweater, jacket, and running shoes, you grabbed your book bag and wallet before locking your dorm behind you.  You needed to study today, and obsessing over a guy was not going to stop you.

The air was crisp but bright as you walked to your favourite coffee shop just off campus. It was a little windy, and you pushed hair out of your face as the breeze whipped it into your eyes.  Taking refuge inside the shop, you blew onto your hands to warm them up as you walked up to the barista and placed your order. The shop was crowded, full of students cramming before exams, couples on coffee dates, and friends catching up. After receiving your drink and your sandwich, you were lucky to grab the last free table at the back of the shop, sitting down and spreading your notes onto the table.

Once you were comfortably positioned, with your notes covering the table just right, you began. Reading over notes and working on practice calculation sheets, you ate your lunch and enjoyed your coffee without paying any attention to the atmosphere around you.  You didn’t even look up from your table until an hour had passed, and it was just your luck that when you did look up, you made eye contact with Peter.

His hair was blown around his head wildly, his cheeks were flushed, and he was flexing his fingers to warm them up.  Distracted by the realization that his hair was infuriatingly similar to how it looked when you ran your fingers through it last night, you almost didn’t notice the curly haired girl he walked in with.

Peter was laughing at something she said as he peeled off his jacket, and kept smiling as he ordered the two of them drinks at the counter.  It wasn’t until he made eye contact with you that the smile froze on his face.

The girl with him followed his line of sight and made eye contact with you.  Her gaze flickered between you and Peter for a moment before she whispered something to him.  Peter whispered something back as he accepted the drinks the barista passed to him, and he passed the second to the girl.

You forced yourself to smile at the pair as they began to approach you.

“Y/N,” Peter gave a small wave. “Hey.  How are you?”

“I’m—I’m good,” You nodded, fidgeting with your pen as you spoke. “How, um, how are you?”

“Good, good.” Peter mimicked your nodding, and kept mimicking it as you waited for him to introduce the girl with him.

After a moment, she cleared her throat. “Peter?”

“Oh, right, yeah, uh, Y/N, this is my friend, Michelle.  She’s visiting from Princeton for the weekend.” Peter gestured to the curly haired girl. “Michelle, this is Y/N, my, um—”

“Fake girlfriend who you revealed your biggest secret to and then banged, right,” Michelle sat down in a chair across from you and motioned for Peter to do the same. “You can call me MJ.”

Peter’s eyes widened dramatically, as did your own, and your mouth dropped open so fast you were surprised it didn’t make a noise.

“Parker, oh my god, what the fuck?” You asked, burying your face in your hands. “You told her?”

“No, no, I didn’t!” Peter’s head continued shaking frantically. “Okay, well, I—I told her about the secret thing and the fake girlfriend thing, but I most definitely did not share the fact that we made—had sex.”

“You didn’t need to,” Michelle shrugged and took a sip of her drink. “When I knocked on your door this morning, you had post sex eyes.”

“Post sex eyes?” You questioned, curiosity getting the better of you.

“After Peter sleeps with someone, he gets this hazy look in his eyes, like he can’t focus on anything.” Michelle smirked. “He kind of looks high?  It’s pretty entertaining, honestly.”

“I do not have ‘post sex eyes!’” Peter protested weakly.

MJ scoffed. “Peter, please.  The morning after you lost your virginity, your eyes were so hazy that you couldn’t focus on anything.  Two days later you told the girl you loved her and that you wanted to move to a farm upstate and raise puppies with her.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Two days?”

Peter blushed before glancing around the crowded coffee shop. “I—she was the first girl that ever sucked me off, okay?  I was seventeen.  It was an emotional moment.”

“That’s true, actually,” Michelle nodded. “You cried for days when she wasn’t very responsive to the farm and puppies idea.”

“Really?” You grinned before taking a sip of your drink. “Days?”

“How did you—? Ned told you, didn’t he?” Peter grimaced, sighing and sipping his drink.

“Oh yeah,” Michelle laughed. “I’m surprised Y/N is the first one outside of our group to find out you’re Spider-Man.”

“MJ, lower your voice!” Peter glanced around again. “Jesus!”

“Okay, well, as much as I’ve loved hearing about Parker’s embarrassing sexual escapades,” You began gathering up your notes. “I have a lab report to finish.  See you in Biology, Parker.  And it was really nice meeting you, Michelle.”

You stood up and slipped your bag over your shoulder before finishing off your drink.  Peter nodded at you as a goodbye, but Michelle stood up as well, her drink still in her hand.

“Hey, Y/N, can I…?” Michelle motioned to the drink station with her head, pushing her hair out of her eyes.  You nodded and followed her over to the counter where she opened a few sugar packets and began pouring them in her coffee.

“What’s up?” You asked curiously.  You were aware of Peter watching the two of you, and his eyes on your back made you feel nervous.

“I just—I know I make fun of Peter a lot, right, but he’s, you know, he’s my best friend.  And I know I don’t know you super—you seem great, really, but—Peter’s been through a lot.” Michelle toyed with the wrappers of the torn sugar packets. “I’m just…worried, you know?  About how this whole…fake dating thing is going to affect him.”

“I didn’t—”

“I know you didn’t start that, but—Peter’s never known when to quit.  He thinks he can make things right with everyone and protect everyone, and—and he can’t.  It’s not possible.” Michelle stirred her coffee before adding more sugar. “He needs someone looking out for him just because it’s him, not because they feel obligated to.”

“I don’t…I’m not really sure what you’re trying to say,” You said slowly, confusion tinging your words.

Michelle sighed. “If you’re not here for Peter because you genuinely care about him…then maybe you shouldn’t be here for him at all.”

You stared at Michelle, not sure of what to say.  You watched as she stirred the coffee again and took a sip.

“Ugh, nasty.” Michelle wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Way too sweet.  Sugar is gross, but whatever.  I needed an excuse to talk to you.  Anyways, see you around.  Hopefully.”

You watched as Michelle turned around and walked back to the table.  Peter’s eyes were still on you when he said something to her; you could only assume he was asking about what you two discussed.

Tossing your empty cup in the garbage, you turned around and left the coffee shop.

 While the library usually provided you with a quiet place to work on assignments and think, it didn’t do much for you when you wanted to stop thinking.  Michelle’s words kept running through your mind, an endless loop of concern that you couldn’t shut off.

You wanted to shut it off.

You knew she was right.  Despite your efforts, you’d come to know Peter fairly well over the last month. You knew he would never quit anything if he could help it, especially if he thought he was protecting someone. But did he have anyone protecting him? Was there anyone who was watching his back?  Anyone who was staying up at night, waiting for the text that would let them know that Peter was back in his dorm in one piece?  Anyone who had a first-aid kit ready if the text came and he wasn’t?

“If you’re not here for Peter because you genuinely care about him…then maybe you shouldn’t be here for him at all.”

Did you genuinely care about him?  He was a nuisance, sure, but a nuisance you seemed stuck with.  It would be rude not to care about him (at least, that’s what you told yourself).

And the fact of the matter was that, even without the added drama of sleeping with a superhero, you had never been good at this part.  The after.  The facing of the consequences of a one night stand that you couldn’t get away from. The emotions.

You dropped your pen and pressed a hand to your forehead.  Emotions should be the farthest thing from your mind when thinking about Peter.  There were no emotions.  There was annoyance and, after last night, lust.  But nothing else.  There couldn’t be anything else.  You couldn’t let there be anything else.

But if there wasn’t anything else, then why was there an ache in your chest when you saw Peter enter the café with a girl?  Why did the thought of him touching anyone else the way he had touched you the night before ignite a flame of envy in your stomach?  Why were you over-analyzing every event of the last twenty-four hours like you were the defense lawyer in the trial of your mind versus your heart?

And why were you losing?

A tap on your shoulder pulled you out of your thoughts.  You jumped, dropping the pen you had been twirling around in your hand and looking up at the librarian standing over you.

“So sorry to bother you, hon, but I’m afraid we’re closing.” She smiled warmly down at you.

“Closing—?  What time is it?” You said, a disbelieving frown forming on your face.

“About five to ten.” She smiled again. “You get back to your dorm safe, alright?  Campus security is there to walk you if you need it.”

“Right. Thanks.” You gave a tired nod and began to pack your things up before you slipped your bag over your shoulder and exited the library.

When you reached the outside, you were halfway shocked to see that the librarian was right.  It was pitch black, with barely a star in the sky visible through the clouds.  You had wasted the entire afternoon and evening in the library, with nothing to show for it except more problems, more questions, a half finished lab report, and a headache.

Wind rustled the trees above you, whipping your hair into your face.  You tightened your jacket around you and looked around in the darkness; with no moonlight and the path to your dorm running through the pitch black forest, you were contemplating walking back inside to get security when a voice from behind you spoke up.

“Need an escort?”

You turned around to see Peter leaning up against the pillars of the library, his hands tucked in his pockets and his jacket buttoned up to his neck.  His hair, which was usually slicked back, was being blown into his eyes, and his mouth was turned up at the corners.

“No, it’s okay, I—I can get security.  It’s fine.” You pushed your hair out of your face (unsuccessfully) and forced a smile. “Really.”

“You’d take some middle aged, balding security guy over an Avenger?” Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well, the middle aged, balding security guy hasn’t seen me naked.” You huffed. “Look, Parker, can you drop the whole surveillance thing for one night?  I just—I need some time to think, and—”

“Y/N.” The corners of Peter’s mouth settled into a straight line as he sighed. “I just want to make sure you get home safe.  That’s it. I swear, I—I’m not going to try anything.  We don’t even have to talk about it.  But I—I can’t go back to my dorm if I don’t know you’re safe and sound in yours.”

You bit your lip. “Fine.  But only because I don’t want to be murdered.”

Peter walked over to you and the two of you began making your way back to your residence building.  It was about a fifteen minute walk, which meant that you ran through your small topics (the windy weather and the bio test next week) in about eighty-three seconds. After that, an awkward silence filled the air as you trekked down the path, with Peter being careful to keep a foot of distance between you at all times.

With five minutes to go, Peter broke the silence.  

“Okay.” He kicked a rock down the path in front of you. “I know I said we don’t have to talk about it.  But—but can we talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?” You kept your gaze glued firmly on the darkness in front of you.

“Um.  A lot.” Peter’s voice was short and clipped, like he was trying to maintain composure. “We had sex, Y/N.  I think that kind of complicates the whole ‘hating each other’ thing we had going on.”

“And talking about it complicates it more.” You rubbed a hand over your tired eyes. “So let’s just drop it, okay?”

“Right. Right.” Peter nodded to himself as his voice hardened over. “Because it was just sex.”

“Right.”

“It meant nothing.”

“Exactly.”

“Just sex between two non-friends who are fake dating.”

“Now you’re getting it.” As you reached your building, you pulled out your key card from your backpack. “Thanks for the escort home.”

“Could I walk you up?” Peter gestured towards the door. “You know, make sure you make it in okay.”

“I, um, I don’t think that’d be a good idea, Parker.” You swiped your key card through the door and pulled it open. “Maybe we should just…call it a night.”

“Yeah.  Yeah, you’re right.  My bad.” Peter gave you a smile that looked more forced than it usually was. “Um, have a good sleep.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, or around.” You nodded to Peter, trying your best not to meet his eyes.

“Or…around.” Peter echoed your words softly.  You could feel his gaze glued to you.

You stepped into the building and closed the door behind you, sliding down it once it had clicked shut.  The wood was cold against your back as you laid your head in your hands and pulled your knees to your chest.

Thoughts raced through your head, a million words flooding all at once, but only one came to your lips.  One word that summed up everything that you were feeling.

“Fuck.”

{part v}

[this-blog-should-not-exist]

It’s been what, two weeks? One week?

A surprising amount has happened since my last post, idk where to start. So much has been on my mind as well

Last I had said was my last time I saw J I think, which was last Wednesday, the 18th. After that we had just snap chatted for a while. This past Friday I actually had another date with a guy I met on Tinder that I’ll call G, he was a close call to J. So I had told him on Thursday the night before I was going to meet him up in Easton that I was already also talking to another guy. I just wanted to be honest with him because I didn't want to just lead him on and then disappear after the date if it went south. He said that he respected my honesty and that not many guys would do that. So all in all Friday came and we met in Easton at Barnes and Noble. He’s really cute actually, a bit cuter than J but I wasn’t going off that I was going off personality. We ended up spending quite some time at Barnes and Noble talking about comics and books we’ve read and a few other random things. After that we went to get some food at Chipotle and sat outside and talked. We had talked for hours really until it got dark. We got along really well actually, we had so much in common. Books, the way we thought about things, movies and video games. He was like a walking meme too it was fun. But I just didn't feel a spark. Im not sure why I didn’t. Was it because I was already so invested with J? I had been talking to J for about a week longer than G but like I said J was a little more aggressive. G seemed like me, he was softer, gentler and passionate. After we finished talking I had drove him home since he went to college at OSU in Columbus, I didn't want him to have to take the bus home that would’ve taken forever when I could just drive him. I dropped him off and that was the night. I went back home and we said goodnight on snapchat and that was that. The next afternoon he was asking if I had made a decision between him or J and I had chose J because like I said, I for some reason just didn't feel a spark with G. Idk why. I said Id still like to be friends of course because I mean he’s a pretty cool dude, I like him. But since then we’ve talked a little less which I mean is understandable as well. We keep our streak going and make a little talk but thats about it. I hope he’s doing well, I saw today that he had unmatched me on Tinder.

That day though, Saturday I had managed to finally pay off 5,000 that I had owed my college that I went to out in Portland Oregon. I am so so so relieved now, Ive been working so much since this past June to pay off that debt because since I owed them 5,000 they wouldn’t release my transcript which meant i couldn't apply to transfer to a college back here. But now that its paid off I can set all that up this week because I believe my deadline to apply for spring classes is the 30th of this month. 

After that day, I had picked up a shift on Sunday because my friend C was actually going up to Cleveland to see a guy HE’S been talking to on Tinder as well so that was fun. I worked Sunday, C got back that afternoon, he said it was an really good time. The guy he is talking to is 23, a musician and finishing his masters in Cleveland. They fit together really well he had said. Im glad, C had never really had a relationship before and I hope this goes well for him. He hasn't had the best of luck with guys or girls really in the past. Just a lot of hookups, which I guess works for him, whatever floats his boat. Im glad he's met someone though. But so I picked up his shift on Sunday, gone to the Band Competition back in my hometown because two of my friends were helping set up for their high school band who were preforming at my high school. So I got to go around see a bunch of my old friends again which was so nice. Ive missed seeing all them in high school and that. After the band perfomance we had a work meeting that night at the bowling alley downtown, then I left and went back up to Columbus to see J. He had really been wanting to see me, and I had missed him a bit. 

So I got up there about 9, we got in bed and played on our laptops until about 3am. We had talked the week before to go to the botanical gardens the next day, possibly head out to Easton and go to one of his coworkers house for a cookout. Well none of that happened because I didn't sleep well that night so I woke up about noon but I didn't want to wake him up yet because I wanted to let him sleep. Plus whenever I say with a friend or anyone and I wake up first I feel terrible because I feel bad waking the other person up. What if they’re not ready to wake up? What if they didn’t sleep well either? What if they are a heavy sleeper and don’t wake up? Will they be grumpy when I wake them up? Will they actually be awake when I wake them up or will it take then another half hour to actually get out of bed? But so I didn't end up waking J up until about 3pm which of course he didn't like because we didn't end up having time to do anything. We had gotten a shower together, gone out to town because he was hungry and also wanted to return this game he had gotten. Well we get out to town, he began to get annoyed because he couldn't make up his mind one which game to trade it in for then didn’t know where he wanted to eat. I felt back because he was getting so annoyed at himself and it was my fault because I should've waken him up earlier so we had time to do stuff. Because also that day I had to go down to Athens at 7 because I was signing a least for a house with C, and another one of my friends we’ll call Jo. So J took us back to his apartment I grabbed my stuff and left for Athens, signed the lease, came back up to Columbus, went to the cookout with J, met some of his coworkers, they were fun. I felt a little out of place because of how young I was. Everyone else was over 21 and some were married couples with kids. It was still a good time, I had a few jello shots which I was a little disappointed they didn't get me anywhere even buzzed. But we had left about 2 hours in, got home about midnight and I watched J play Fallout 4 until about 2am, we had drank a little back at his place too but I still didn't even get tipsy. When I drink I drink to get drunk, because when Im drunk the most that happens is I get a little off balanced. I can still talk and think straight its just my center of gravity is a bit off and it makes things fun to me. But so we had gone to bed then. I got up today about 9am, we took a shower and I left and went straight to work.

So much has happened this past weekend, so many good things as well. Nothing ever usually goes this well for me. Me and C felt the same way and were joking that something is just gonna come crashing down on us, because life has never been so nice, me him and Jo are all talking to someone, we got a house, I paid off college. Everything is just going to smoothly. Part of me like I said is waiting, something is going to happen I'm afraid. Something bad but I don’t know what or when. But part of me is also thinking you know what if this is it? Have I finally got my life on track? After years of struggle and trial have I got things going the right way? But what do I do about J? I still have this feeling with him. Am I just enjoying the romantic attention and dealing with his aggressiveness for the sake of the romantic attention? Could I do better? Am I just holding onto him until I make it down to Athens? I just still have so many doubts about things

[notsoaveragjoe]

#2 Bad Hair and Purple Tie-Dye Sweaters

Hello, Cruel World. Welcome to another late night from the mind of Joe. I feel as though I should start with an apology for not making my second post more than a week after my first. Then again, I promised you nothing. (MUHAHAHA) 

But seriously, it is my goal to try to get into a regular schedule posting on here in order to experience the freedom to write just for the love of it. As a musicology student currently working on the beginnings of a large research project looking on toward a graduate degree, I have done and plan to do a heck ton more academic writing. Just looking at the last semester alone I wrote hundreds (with an s) of pages of lit reviews, document-based research projects, conference papers, and much more. For the last three months I have not written much more than “2 Chicken & waffles-1 no sugar, Hot brown, + kids omelet” on my server pad in scribbled and illegible shorthand. Actually, who am I kidding, I know the menu well enough at my serving job back home that I haven’t written an order down in years. (Go check them out here. Great food, wonderful staff).

I digress..

Setting the Stage: Currently sitting in a dimly lit corner of my apartment, sipping a cup of tea and whiskey-- a bold choice. In the process of trying to not hear the passionate clamor of my roommate and his main girl during “euphemisms”.

During my homeward commute this afternoon, I was in a mood and took a detour to the supermarket where I subsequently purchased the following items:

Hair Texturizer

Dental floss

Bananas (Thanks Gwen)

Purple Tie-Dye Sweater.

Who You Are, Mannequin Pussy

As a black person, my whole life has been plagued by a complex relationship with my hair. Though of a complicated racial background and identity, one definable feature and large conundrum in my personal identity has been figuring out the best way to ‘keep’ my hair, maintain it, and style it in a way that is authentically me. Whoever the hell that is. Regardless, my hair has been a struggle to understand for as long as I can remember understanding things. Over the last year, I have began the process of growing my hair out. Though I have never had long hair before (or big hair... I guess?) I figured that the best way for me to understand what I want is to go from a large chunk of something, and then wittle it away until I find the “sculpture within”, sort of like this. 

After about the first six months, I realized that I was constantly irritated the coarse texture of my hair as it became increasingly difficult to wash, comb out, and style on a day to day basis. I did know that I would not be happy with a fully relaxed hairstyle, but I hope that my hair would be more manageable with texturizer treatments to slightly loosen the curls. Applying the treatment every few months to the new growth, as recommended by numerous hairstylists, I had begin to develop a slightly softer, but still curly hair texture.  

Between moving twice and adjusting to a new city while doing lots of new and exciting things, I had not had the time nor the patience to do one of these treatments on my hair for quite some time. That was, until tonight. This evening, I began the process as I usually do: I apply the texturizer to the most course parts of my hear, near the roots, and begin to go on to less coarse points of new growth. Once I had finished applying the stuff, one corner of my head began to BURN like none other. Though I had experienced this pain before, it had never been to this extreme extent. As I quickly applied the neutralizer and rinsed my hair as thoroughly as humanely possible, moaning in discomfort to match my the euphemism going on across the hall. Though my skin is a little tender, I now realize that the air in this city had non only been drying out my face, but my scalp was also as dry as a chip and beginning to crack. Upon this realization, I began to long to speak to someone about my experience, but on a greater level, it reminded me about how difficult my struggle with my hair has been.

Growing up, the culture to which I was accustomed incorporated going to a barber shop across town from my home to get my hair cut by a man named Sid or his son-in-law Rodney. Though it was a cool place, the only thing I learned there was to always get my hair cut really short, oil it occasionally, and comb it every day. Nearly every black man in my community kept their hair like this, so I thought it was the norm. I had always been raised to believe that guys with afros were either novelties or punks, and any other hairstyle was either dirty or unnatural for a man to have. On the other hand, my mother and sister either had their hair relaxed, or it was in a complex braid style that took them entire weekends to get put in. In any case, it wasn’t something that I was taught. 

Now, this is not a knock on my parents, who did their best to raise me with many privileges that they did not have. With them both working full-time careers my whole life, I am not angry with them for not taking the time to teach me about hair when they spent so many countless hours teaching me to read, write, and appreciate music. Still, it is wild to me that in order for me to get questions answered about my hair, I have always turned toward online forums and hair magazines to educate myself. It is also more astounding to me the sheer volume of hair care products, advice, and advertisements that are marketed toward white people. Even though there are black people literally everywhere, it is sad to see the inaccurate representation of people of color in this medium, as well as insufficient selections of hair-care products in most beauty supply aisles. 

Vegabond, Beirut 

As I feel a chill from the ceiling fan, I draw my hands into my newest oversized sweater. Then I remember I need to type.

In addition to the scalp burning hair texturizer, I also purchased dental floss (for obvious reasons) and four bananas (for the potassium... of course). Practicality aside, I now believe that the real reason my wayfaring soul drew me into the store was this sweater in particular. 

You see, for years I have lived in a world of toxic masculinity where it had been frowned upon to like anything ‘girly’ or ‘feminine’. Much of the dark parts of my life had previously been blocked out of my memory. Since beginning therapy, I have slowly began to have repressed memories return to me at the strangest of times, like a certain group rudely interrupted my internet browsing the other day. Upon seeing this purple tie-dye sweater in the store, my initial thought was “Thats pretty, but not my style”. Though a ‘correct’ statement, I remember how a drag queen had read me a few weeks ago, calling me a ‘heteroconforming, midwestern, plain-jane’. I can’t lie, she got me there. The majority of my wardrobe consists of dark earth-tones, some varieties of the color blue, and the occasional floral shirt for when I want to be ‘extra’. Oh, and black. Lots.Of.Concert.Black.

This dominoed into a number of thoughts reminding me of a statement one of my friends made, “For someone who LOVES the color purple, you don’t seem to ever express that love very much”, in response to a discussion about a mutual friend who loves the color green and rarely has the color too far away. 

Hello, this is therapy talking. OTHER PEOPLE’S OPINIONS OF YOU SHOULD NOT VALIDATE/INVALIDATE YOUR SELF WORTH. We’ll work on that next week...

When wandering the store, all of these thoughts went swirling around my head, much like the storm brewing outside. Upon further internal inquiries, I circled back to the mens clothing aisle to surprisingly see it was on sale, since it is July after all. The only sizes available were larger than my petite Sm-M that I usually wear, but I managed to find a medium size that fits as comfortably as an oversized sweater. Im sitting in bed right now swimming, but not drowning in thousands of threads of purple and white cotton. As I have always thought of myself as best in earth tones, wearing the color makes me both feel bright an happier, but also makes me look more pleasant in the mirror than I have in the past. Instead of hiding from the stereotypes of gay men, I think this is a better gateway into a life of being content liking what I like without further reasoning past I Just Like It. This impulse buy was likely one of the best purchasing decisions Ive made in a long while.

Fuck Toxic Masculinity,

~Mojo

[ciathyzareposts]

Game 29: Lords of Karma – Victory!

Having spent most of my last post on mapping and exploring, I decided it was time to dig into this game and start solving some quests. The most obvious goal was to earn enough karma to enter Heaven, but there were a number of other quests in the game as well. Laying out my goals was helped by the discovery of a book on a mountain top, which purports to hold the wisdom of someone called Maharathi. Continuously reading the book gives a number of hints:

CHAPTER I. Putting the Torch to Cobwebs

CHAPTER II. I Give a Beggar a Silver Dollar

CHAPTER III. A Cooling Egg

CHAPTER IV. Secrets Found in a Crystal Ball

CHAPTER V. An Idol Destroyed.

This was a pretty good set of quests to go on. In addition, I had been asked to rescue a princess from a knave and return her to the palace.  Tackling all of these took me the better part of an afternoon, which was time I could have better spent watching hard Japanese wrestlers batter the hell out of each other (it’s G1 Climax season once again!). Still, I’ve had worse weekends, and played worse games.

Rescuing the princess turned out to be not difficult at all. Her and the knave are always found somewhere in the Oak Forest to the west of the city of Golconda. The last time I tried to fight him he killed me, but this time I battered him to death with a lit torch. Combat is very swingy in this game; you can kill a Troll with your bare hands, then lose a fight to a bat when armed with a sword. It’s very much just a case of luck, though it seems that the knave is one of the game’s weaker enemies.

The princess then started following me, demanding to be returned to the palace. I returned her to her father, who rewarded me with a diamond before taking his daughter on a vacation. From that point on I was able to enter the palace without fear of being thrown in the dungeons, although there’s not really much reason to do so.

Reuniting the royal family.

It was time to get to the clues in the book, and I started with the beggar. The silver dollar is usually found somewhere in the Oak Forest to the east of Golconda (the locations of items and creatures is randomised, although they usually pop up in the same general area). The beggar is easy to find as well, as he’s always on the road either north or south of the city. I gave him the dollar and he rewarded me with a lamp that never runs out. This game involves a fair bit of stumbling around in the dark, so it comes in handy.

The next easiest clue to solve was the one about torching cobwebs. I’d found some cobwebs in the Cyprus Swamp, so I went there armed with a lit torch and tried to burn them. None of the commands I tried worked, so I explored a bit and was soon attacked by a giant spider. The spider kept firing webs at me, but with my torch I was able to burn them away and thus avoid being killed. Eventually I struck a killing blow, although it was a long, laborious process of typing KILL over and over again. Searching the swamp afterwards I found a sword, which soon became my primary weapon.

I had no idea about the egg, but after an hour of fruitless exploring, monster killing, and treasure-finding, I decided to try talking to everyone I met. Most of them just attack, but I was quite pleased to note that every creature I tried to talk to had some sort of response.  Success came when I talked to the giant who lives in the Redwood Forest to the south-west. He told me that humans aren’t welcome in his forest, but I could win his trust by bringing him a sapling.

I’d found a sapling in the swamp during an earlier game, so I wandered around (and killed a crocodile) until I found it again. The sapling is heavy, so I had to drop everything from my inventory to even move. Then I couldn’t get back out of the swamp the way I came, because the sapling was too big to fit through a crack in a wall. I was forced to find another path east and north of Golconda, but I was eventually able to circle around and take the sapling to the giant.

I hope those are some REALLY big leaves.

He rewarded me with an egg. I suspect there’s a way to hatch it, but I never did figure it out. The “cooling egg” in the clue had me trying to light it on fire, which I couldn’t get to work. So I’m not convinced that I solved everything here, but finding the egg is good enough for me to consider the third clue dealt with.

The other two clues took quite a bit longer to deal with, because they both involve exploring underground. There are a number of underground areas in the game: the sewers beneath Golconda, the tunnels under the mountains, more tunnels accessed through holes in the swamp. The most extensive of these seems to be the caves under the southern Promontory. It’s hard to tell, because there are secret doors all over these areas. Sometimes they appear when you LOOK, and other times they don’t, so fully exploring these places is a matter of luck and patience. I’m still not sure I got everything.

There are monsters underground, and all of them can kill you: the worm and the vampire bat are the weakest. There’s an axe-wielding goblin, a mace-wielding troll, and a shimmering wizard who will happily roast you with a fireball from his staff when he sees you. The idol mentioned in the clues is also underground, in the caves below the Promontory, past a maze of stalactites and stalagmites. The troll always guards the areas leading up to it, and he can be tough to kill even when you’re well-armed.

The idol is dedicated to Baal, and when you examine it you’re asked to make an offering. I knew it would be a bad idea, but I had to try it at least once.

Whoever the god of this world is, he punishes you worse for this than for murder.

Yes, I got blasted for idolatry and took a massive karma hit. Needless to say, I restarted.

With idol located I needed a way to destroy it. I had earlier found a bomb lying in the Aspen Forest to the north-west, and I figured this was the way to do it. Sure enough, I took the bomb to the idol, lit a match, lit the fuse, and moved away. The bomb exploded, reducing the idol to rubble, and I got a big karma boost. (What I didn’t get was a screen shot, because my torch had run out while I was waiting for the bomb to go off.)

My final goal was obtaining the crystal ball, which I knew was being held by a friendly wizard who roams about the wilderness. When you talk to him, he asks you to bring him the staff of the shimmering wizard. Which I then tried to do. Many, many, many times. That guy is tough.  In the end I resorted to praying at the temple, which sometimes results in you grabbing a torch and wandering into the underground tunnels, and is probably the quickest way of finding the wizard. So I just kept on praying, fighting him when I found him, and returning to pray after he killed me. It probably took me thirty tries to beat him (with a lot of fruitless underground journeys when praying sent me to the wrong area).  When I took his staff to the good wizard, he rewarded me with the crystal ball, which I discovered could be used to see secret doors. I considered using it to map out the whole game accurately, but even I have my limits (I would have totally done it if this was an RPG though).

Say “appear” one more time…

Last of all, it was time to earn enough karma to make my way into heaven. If I’m being honest though, I accomplished this one way before destroying the idol and obtaining the crystal ball. The number of points required to ascend to heaven is randomised with every game; in some games I’ve ascended with only 24 points, and in others it’s taken me over 300. So as you can see, the game can vary greatly in difficulty.

There are three ways to earn karma: solving quests, donating treasure, and killing monsters. The first of these I’ve covered pretty comprehensively above.  Donating treasure simply involves taking any treasure you’ve found to the temple and using the DONATE or GIVE command. A sign tells you that “contributions will be gratefully accepted”, so it’s not all that obscure, but it did take me a few tries to hit on the right command. Despite this game’s premise supposedly being to do good deeds, it still ultimately boils down to finding treasures and returning them to a single location. We haven’t escaped the influence of Colossal Cave Adventure just yet.

Killing monsters is a little more interesting, because doing so can earn you karma as well as lose it. I think it has something to do with the weapon you’re using.  When you examine a weapon it tells you where it was made. Some are forged in Valhalla, some in Hades, and some are made by “Knave Armaments, Inc.”  I’m pretty sure that you get points when using weapons from Valhalla, and lose them when using weapons from Hades. I found a ring from Hades that shot lightning bolts, and while it was powerful I lost karma every time I used it.  As for the Knave Armaments weapons, I’m not sure, but I think you lose karma from those as well. I just tried to test it and got killed by a vampire bat, so it’ll have to remain a mystery.  Oh, and of course killing friendly characters always loses you karma.

So I amassed a couple hundred karma, went to the temple, prayed, and got the following victory screen.

After this it dumped me to the OS prompt, so I guess heaven is using a TRS-80 you guys.

So that’s Lords of Karma done, dusted, and off the books. After a couple of games that I feel like I didn’t properly beat, it’s a relief to notch up another win. All that’s left is a quick Final Rating and I can move on to something else.

FINAL RATING

Story & Setting: The set-up for Lords of Karma promised more than the usual late-70s adventure fare, but in the end it wasn’t much more than another treasure hunt. It perhaps deserves some props for being one of the first game adventure games that has a number of sub-quests, and multiple paths to victory. It’s possible to win without donating any treasure at all, by completing the quests instead. The setting doesn’t have a lot of personality, and I’m tempted to dock it for mixing mythologies with Hades and Valhalla. Rating: 2 out of 7.

Characters & Monsters: The characters are simple quest-givers, but they do all respond when spoken to, and have a minimal amount of personality. The selection of monsters is decent, although combat is too random to differentiate them all that much. It’s a slight cut above the other adventure games available on home computers at the time in this regard, though. Rating: 2 out of 7.

Aesthetics: As with so many of its kind, it’s a text adventure with very sparse descriptions. Rating: 1 out of 7.

Mechanics: The parser is very simple (I doubt it knows more than about a dozen commands), but it gets the job done. Once you know how to GET, DROP, GIVE, TALK, PRAY, LIGHT and KILL you’re pretty much good to go, and the games does what it’s supposed to do. Combat is very random though, and there are no tactics that can mitigate this swinginess. Rating: 3 out of 7.

Challenge: In terms of puzzle solving this game has very little in the way of difficulty, and gives a decent amount of hints as to what you need to do. Earning karma is also not that hard, especially once you know how to avoid losing it. The game even resurrects you when you die, with no loss of karma at all. The most challenging thing is combat, but even that’s a minor setback in terms of the goal of ascending to heaven. It’s probably about the right amount of challenge for the size of the game, if not a little too easy. The randomisation gives it some small replay value, though. Rating: 4 out of 7.

Innovation & Influence: It doesn’t seem as though this game had much of an impact, but it does feature some minor innovations. It might be the first adventure game to explicitly have “doing good” as a goal, and it might also be the first to feature elements of Eastern philosophy and religion (albeit in a minor way). Rating: 3 out of 7.

Fun: I only had three sessions on this game, perhaps five hours in total, but I found myself enjoying it while it lasted. There’s just enough to see and do in the game to make it worth exploring for a short while, although the combat can be very frustrating. Rating: 2 out of 7.

No bonus point for Lords of Karma; I doubt I’ll revisit it.  The above scores add up to 17, which doubled gives a Final Rating of 34. That puts it equal 14th overall, and 8th on the chart for adventure games. That’s right in the middle, equal with Pirate Adventure, and among the highest-rated adventure games for home computers.

NEXT: It looks like I have tracked down a copy of Quest after all, so I’ll be looking at that if I can get it to work. If not, it’s either Swords & Sorcery (a minor PLATO RPG) or Daniel Lawrence’s DND (which I doubt I’ll be able to get running but you never know). The end of 1978 is finally in sight!

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/game-29-lords-of-karma-victory/