#he's been through the physical and emotional wringer in the last hour

[ladytemeraire]

"He trained me in how to defeat you, not in how to save you – I don't know how to do any of this, I don't know how to be a proper Jedi, I don't know how to save you, but I know I must nonetheless; I am in pain and grieving but this is all I can do, and I will get both of us out of here or die trying."

sometimes star wars is unsubtle in a bad way and sometimes luke skywalker is dragging his father’s dead weight across the death star floor, sobbing from love and exhaustion

[everythingsinred]

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt.10)

WOW we did it folks. 10 parts to an essay that we're like. a quarter of the way done with. That's pretty great! More or less, by the time you finish reading this post, you'll have read 35k words worth of analysis and I'll have spent countless hours writing it. What amazing dedication we have to this manga! We should get an anime reboot as a reward!

Anyway, let's go crazy stupid trying to wrap up this arc, where we can see the extent of Natsume's selflessness. As we approach the end, something will happen to make Natsume's plans to distance himself from Mikan very difficult. Let us begin!

Also I've been forgetting to put trigger warnings up for these but I put them on the first few so hopefully you know they're all like that. Child abuse is a huge topic we'll cover throughout, as well as all the consequences that come with it, so be wary.

Chapter Forty-One

Medusa--Mihara-san--is amused to see that the frightening, powerful, and awe-inspiring “Black Cat”, who demonstrates a trained command of his alice despite wearing an alice-restraining mask on missions, is actually just a little kid.

Natsume doesn’t care about being impressive; he cuts to the chase, asking where Mikan is. Medusa makes his comments, but Natsume stays on his point: his new mission is to save Mikan, after all. Though keeping Mikan and Ruka safe had been his personal mission from the get-go. But just as Natsume isn’t interested in anything Medusa has to say if it isn’t about Mikan, Medusa isn’t interested in any topic that is about Mikan. So the small talk ends and Shiki is commanded to test the kids’ abilities.

Natsume cares about one thing right now and it isn't his DA alias.

They are in the midst of some kind of battle or standoff when Mikan reappears, safe. She calls out to them, excited to see them again. Ruka and Tsubasa are happy to see her safe as well, so they call out too. Natsume is not as thrilled. He’s good at staying on mission and keeping his attention on the dangers around him, like Shiki and Medusa, as well as the countless other Z members, all with mystery alices.

Mikan suddenly appearing and making herself known is dangerous, and she’s immediately under attack, unwittingly. He runs to protect her, using his alice as a barrier between them and the man who just tried to hurt her, but when he turns back to look at Mikan, he’s livid.

The art in this scene is so gorgeous, I could stare it forever. Look at how silky Natsume's hair is. Pretty.

Tsubasa and Ruka have never been on a mission like this. They were just eager to see Mikan unharmed. She was also just excited to see her friends again after being separated. But Natsume knows better. On a mission, you have to stay vigilant and always careful, and Mikan was careless. He yells at her, scolding her. But even through his emotions, he stays vigilant, protecting her even more when the enemy tries to take advantage of the distraction.

This is what he came for, not just to be the brains and keep them on track throughout the journey, but also to protect them, because that’s what he always does, what his priority always is. He will use his alice to ward off enemy attacks, and use his body as a shield, even if he winds up exhausted and bleeding and hurt. And he is.

But he still tells Mikan to stay behind him, to stay safe, so he can properly protect her this time, because he couldn’t do it before.

He doesn’t expect Mikan to get up and tell him that he doesn’t have to worry. She doesn’t want or need him to protect her; instead she wants to help him. She tells him, for once, that he doesn’t have to be the only one hurt anymore. He’s understandably surprised to hear this, because it means that someone other than Ruka has been paying attention. She understands that he’s been through the wringer, and she doesn’t want to just sit back and benefit from his effort without giving anything back. But more than just saying she’ll take on the brunt of things for him, she wants to help. She wants to be his strength, not a burden on him.

She has been noticing him, even the things he doesn't want her to notice.

This shocks him enough that it actually distracts him from his vigilance, and suddenly it appears that Ruka is in danger. He leaves her side just long enough for her to be captured by Shiki instead, and immediately teleported to Medusa’s side. They needed to get Mikan out of the way, after all, so that Medusa could use his alice, which he immediately uses to petrify Tsubasa’s leg.

Chapter Forty-Two

Right off the bat, we’re shown just how much the stakes have risen. Medusa’s alice is deadly, not just dangerous, and he’s already managed to hit Tsubasa with it. His next command is to have Yuka steal the kids’ alices, and to start with Natsume. It would make things easier on him, anyway, Medusa says, obviously privy to the idea that a child like Natsume wouldn’t want to be a child soldier at all, unlike Reo who mused that maybe Natsume would be more content with just a change of employer.

But Yuka makes it clear that her alice isn’t strong enough to steal all of the alices at once, trying to spare the kids from losing their abilities. So Medusa then goes to a Plan B, convincing the kids that his alice will only be temporarily affecting them until they agree to work for Z. After all, Natsume can’t really use his alice when Medusa has Mikan in his clutches. He’s been in this situation before, practically living in it, having the lives and happiness of his loved ones held over his head so that he will be pliant. Medusa comments that he loves torturing people like him, and he must not be the only one, since Natsume’s been tortured in this way for years now.

Ruka is hit in the shoulder while trying to shield Tsubasa from another attack from Medusa, and the shoulder region is particularly life-threatening, as it’s close to the heart and he might die from the loss of blood flow soon. Of course, this sets Natsume into berserk mode, but before he can use his alice, he coughs violently. This gives Medusa an opportunity to strike Natsume in his dominant arm, his left one.

He tries to use his alice, despite being at a new disadvantage, and still angry from what’s happening to Ruka. So his leg gets hit too.

Medusa gets temporarily incapacitated by Mikan’s nullification, so he sends Yuka to steal Natsume’s alice, which should be a walk in the park because he’s lost control of his arm and leg, so he can’t run away.

It’s here that Natsume reveals to the reader the secret he’s been keeping for the past few days, the one that we must now keep as well, that Mikan is Yuka’s daughter.

This is another one of those situations, where the stars align in all the wrong ways. Something you've always wanted is within grasp, but there's too many reasons not to take it.

Natsume stands there, unable to move, and ponders his situation as Mikan desperately screams for him to run away.

He wonders if he was waiting for this exact moment, if that’s the reason he came along at all, so that he could meet Yuka and have her steal his alice away.

Earlier, Natsume left a conversation about losing alices because it was too painful. He doesn’t feel the same way about his that the rest of them do. It’s not some fond part of him that he can’t stand to lose. He hates it. It’s been a hindrance since the day he was born. People of all sorts of organizations, including the government operated Academy and terrorist organizations like Z, have coveted his power. It’s put his loved ones in danger. It’s made his life a living hell. He’s been robbed of a fun childhood, of smiles and friendship, of peace. It’s stolen opportunity from him, so he can’t even feel free to pursue a crush, or make bonds freely, or let himself laugh. It stole his future from him, and he dies a little bit more every day. He won’t live long enough to go on a date, graduate, get married, get a normal job, have kids, grow old. He might not even make it to middle school, and he knows it. He lives his whole life in eternal emotional, physical, and mental agony. He’s always under the gun, always careful, always selfless, always defensive.

Why would anyone want that?

And this is his chance to lose it all. Things could be easier, better, safer. He could lose it and finally exhale. He could go back home to his dad. He could be an actual kid for once. Yuka could steal his alice and all of his responsibilities and the deadweight he’s been carrying on his back for his whole life could be gone.

Of course he almost lets her steal it.

But Mikan has been screaming in anguish for him to run away, and he remembers what she said when she saved him during the Reo Arc: that it was too late to give up, and that they should return to the academy together, because a bright future must be waiting for them.

And because of that, Natsume makes his first move to escape Yuka’s alice.

Does Natsume really want a future if his friends and loved ones would still be in danger? Would it be worth it if he was safe, if it came at the price of their safety? If Natsume doesn’t use his alice to keep them safe and protected, then who will? Who can?

Natsume smacking Yuka’s hand away isn’t selfish. It’s not him realizing he wants to keep his alice, that maybe deep down, he might actually love it. It’s not dear to him in any way. It’s still the thing that wears his body down and forces him to cough up blood. No, this act is selfless, yet again, because his own happiness and even his life come dead last to him. He has to keep them all safe after all.

Yuka snatches his wrist anyway, ready to steal his alice away, until she realizes she can’t. Mikan is using her alice from all the way across the room to protect Natsume.

So basically, the idea of Natsume leaving the academy causes this kind of reaction in Mikan, something Natsume has no choice but to see for what it is: fondness.

He looks at her with surprise, because this is an act of affection. Mikan has just used her alice to keep him with her. His life isn’t in danger, but she wants him to stick around. Now more than ever, Natsume can see proof that she cares about him, even despite all the bullying he’s done, despite all the mean words he’s thrown her way, even after he told her cruelly that he hates every single thing about her. Up until now, Natsume had no reason to believe she was doing anything but tolerating him, and though that was the outcome he was working for, deep down he does want the girl he likes to have some fondness for him too. This is the first time Natsume can really see that he means something to her too, as more than just a classmate or a partner. He is someone she doesn't want to part with.

And Mikan has fulfilled her wish, to be Natsume’s strength, because now Natsume is able to yell at her to duck and blow up the wall behind her.

Usually such huge explosions are the result of him at his angriest, using his ability to punish the people who hurt his loved ones. He’s probably also done similar things on missions, maybe even when he’s completely calm. But this time Natsume is weaker than ever, his dominant left arm completely out of commission, unable to move, under duress. He finds the strength to cause that explosion because of Mikan, because she wants him around.

While everyone is distracted, Natsume tells Yuka to go help Mikan, hinting that he knows her secret.

So Yuka stabs Mihara-san and has the petrified kids lick his blood off the blade. It’s confusing to the other kids why she would do this, but Natsume knows exactly why.

It would be interesting to see more interaction between Yuka and Natsume. Surely Yuka knows that Natsume is Kaoru’s son? It would be interesting to see if she noticed that his name matches Mikan’s. What does she think of him? What might their dynamic be like? I will always mourn that we’ll never find out.

Chapter Forty-Three

This chapter is the one that should officially designate this manga into the “tragedy” category. Yes, there’s been some heavy and deep stuff so far, most having to do with Natsume and the heavy abuse he deals with, but even with all that it’s managed to be mainly a cheerful and upbeat story. This chapter makes it clear that horrible and heart-wrenching things can and will happen, that we can’t count on a happy ending every time.

The kids are close to escape. They’re about to head through a warp zone back to school, and it’s urgent they move fast because the hide-out they’re in is currently imploding. Unfortunately, Mikan has dropped the antidote to the bullet that hit Hotaru, so she refuses to leave until she’s retrieved it from under a pile of rubble.

Pengy finally has a chance to prove itself, wriggling under and saving the antidote for Hotaru. It has helped Mikan, and because that’s the best thing someone can do, Natsume is grateful.

Natsume's smile (even a small one like this) has incredible powers, like giving robots a feeling of self-worth, making his classmates fall in love with him, and making me think he is a good boy. It would be irresponsible to overuse it.

Just like when Tsubasa showed his worth back at the high school division when he used his alice to help Mikan, Natsume has a new respect for Pengy, who was able to do something amazing to help the group, and Mikan especially. So he gives Pengy a slight smile. It’s really subtle and nothing outstanding on anybody else, but it’s a rare thing to get from Natsume, even for those whom he loves. “I guess you can be a little useful,” he says. This is the best sign of appreciation someone can get from him, and Pengy glows for a moment (ahh… the power of Natsume’s smile), until things fall apart.

The floor gives way under Mikan’s feet. They’re able to pull Mikan up, but Pengy is still too far to reach. Despite Mikan’s desperation, Pengy understands that they’re wasting time trying to reach it. Finally, after Pengy has proven its use to Natsume, it refuses to be a hindrance again, and sacrifices itself so that everyone can safely return the antidote to Hotaru.

They’re all through the tunnel, hit with the knowledge that Pengy is gone. They all react somewhat differently, but Natsume feels guilt.

Pengy's smile has evil powers because it makes me cry.

Natsume had considered Pengy a robot, something unfeeling and mechanical, just a useless thing Hotaru made once. It was something that could be discarded, and after it had proven to be troublesome, he’d even advocated that it should be discarded. He’d considered it useless all along, but when it really counted, Pengy was able to save Mikan and the antidote. It proved not only that it could be useful, but that it wasn’t just another mechanical robot. When Natsume smiled at it, it smiled back. And in its final act of sacrifice, it acted out of love for both Hotaru and Mikan, and Natsume feels sorry for what he’d said about it.

Natsume has a habit for establishing a bad impression of someone, and then having that person work hard to prove themselves to him. Pengy is one example, but he’s like this with Tsubasa, Mikan, and all sorts of people at first. People (and robots) that he despises until they show him what they’re really made of, winning his respect and sometimes even affection. It makes sense he would be so distrustful, seeing the life he has to live. Trusting the wrong person can get you hurt sometimes, and can lead to disaster. And having something useless like Pengy can cause a mission to fail. But Natsume is sometimes wrong about his first impression of a person, and the same qualities that could lead him to believe something is useless or annoying can end up being strengths that he respects.

Chapter Forty-Five

Yes, I skipped 44 because that’s more noteworthy as a Mikan chapter. Natsume doesn’t do anything I found particularly intriguing and I didn’t want to make anything up or repeat myself. In fact, for the rest of this arc, there’s very little left for me to say, so I apologize if this is a short analysis to conclude with.

The first thing we’ll address is the ESP and Persona discussing the insubordination that has just occurred. Yes, an injured student has safely recovered, and a Z hideout has been destroyed, but it wasn’t their plan for things to happen that way. Narumi needs a warning, for one. Natsume, according to Persona, needs simply to be punished back into obedience. From the way Persona talks about him, we can see how little he thinks of Natsume, how easy he can be to manipulate and control, which is all he is good for anyway. To them, Natsume is nothing more than a pawn in their game. Sure, he’s a useful pawn, the Black Cat that strikes fear into the hearts of the school’s enemies and successfully completes his missions even with a punishment mask on, but he’s still just a pawn. Nothing more.

While watching Mikan and Hotaru’s reunion, Tsubasa teases Natsume about joining the group hug. Natsume ignores him, and makes to walk away, but stops just long enough to toss his healing alice necklace to him. Tsubasa can borrow it to make up for having Subaru put Natsume’s injuries first. He makes it clear that he doesn’t want anybody looking after him, and that might seem like a snub, but this is kindness too. Natsume calls Tsubasa by his name, though he’ll do his best to avoid ever saying it again, and lends him a source of comfort and healing to pay back Tsubasa’s compassion. This is a growing moment, because Natsume has opened himself up to the idea that he could care about more people, even if it means more to lose.

Saying people's names is another rare magic from Natsume, I guess.

Natsume has learned things on this mission too, just like Mikan has. He’s a bit more open-minded now. He judged both Tsubasa and Pengy, and ended up changing his mind about them both, even if only by a little. He’s also discovered that Mikan has affection for him too, and it will completely undo all the effort he’s so far tried to make in distancing himself. It’s one thing to stay away from the girl you like when she hardly stands you. It’s another thing when she enjoys your company, and your feelings are turning into love. His feelings have intensified, or maybe they were always so intense but are just newly solidified, as he’s not hiding from them as much anymore.

He won’t be able to distance himself from her anymore, so he’ll completely stop trying.

Conclusion

Natsume has realized that Mikan holds a degree of fondness for him too, and because he is now very deeply in love with her, he will not be able to stay away like he'd resolved to before. Tomorrow we will begin our essay with Natsume's birthday, a very exciting way to start looking at his new approach to his relationship with Mikan.

The last essay (pt. 9) in particular inspired people to tell me that they were learning new things about Natsume, and as a result even loving him more, and that makes me so happy! Natsume is one of my favorite characters ever, and I want people to love him as much as I do! I love when people leave comments or questions! Really, I'm just so happy and over the moon that people are reading and enjoying, because again--this is a LOT of words. It's a long essay, and it means so much not just that people want to read about Natsume and his feelings for Mikan, but that they want to hear what I have to say about it! Thank you so much for supporting me! Isn't it exciting that we're about a quarter through? <3

I can’t put a song in the tags cuz I have too many tags. So. Church by Fall Out Boy.

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[dontcallmecarrie]

Replying to the commenters of this post [heads up for angst]:

To @kine-iende, who said:​

hot damn. if "our" justin was a mom-friend in their home-universe, here people would start questioning if justin was in secret a very motherly scrull or something (and be fine with it ^^). but yeah, love the trope too. was it "for the want of a nail" or "through a mirrorm darkly"? well, contrast and a what could have been would be lovely. feel enabled, whenever you want to write this :)

.

I am not very familiar with the concept of Skrulls [...iirc, that’s something introduced in Captain Marvel, which I have yet to get around to], but yeah, that tracks. Assuming it’s a thing they know to look for, though, because here Justin’s being themself is the biggest and most obvious way to establish that they are not canon!Justin.

Sure, they’re identical physically, but the moment either Justin opens his mouth, the jig’s up. 

As is, not five minutes into this strange hellscape where their oldest rival looked at them with no small amount of disdain in his eyes at first, Justin had already managed to charm their way out of holding and into a very relaxed “we’ll keep an eye on him” Avengers custody. 

Well, on paper at least— in reality, most of the team doesn’t really give a damn one way or another, whereas Tony starts out morbidly curious as to just how different NHDD!Justin is to the one he’s used to dealing with, and ends up getting a concentrated dose of All The Feels™ because the moment NHDD!Justin realized this Tony had a metric buttload of undiagnosed-and-constantly-belittled mental health issues and a support system that was equal parts duct tape and caffeine, he went “oh, so this universe is the Hell Timeline, okay, makes sense :) :) :) dammit Ivan you’d better fix this stat”. 

In retrospect, Justin’s not sure when exactly the horror show started; if it was the absolute lack of concern or care the Avengers had for their Tony, or the minute they noticed the gauntness in his face. Maybe the tension between Iron Man and Captain America, or the obvious bravado this Tony used– and the fact that none of the others so much as noticed.

All Justin knows is, a version of someone they care about is hurting, hurting badly and has been for a long time now, and that’s more than enough for them to go “oh, okay, mine now”.

.

For his part, Tony has no idea what the hell’s going on. The non-annoying Justin Hammer who crash-landed an Avengers debrief is...something else, and he’s torn between shock, pleasant surprise, and no small amount of existential angst and jealousy because in the span of a few hours, Tony’s had a brief taste of what some other version of him had for a lifetime, and...

Tony’s not sure how he feels about it. He’s a genius, he can wrap his head around string theory and all that good stuff, but numbers are one thing, having to live with the fact that somewhere out there, a version of him grew up with someone so unfailingly kind and supportive and—Tony can’t think of a better word for it than nurturing— and, in the span of seconds, had been able to call him out on his bullshit and seemed to instinctively push him to be better but not in the demanding way his father or the rest of the world had—

If he thinks about it too long, it makes him want to cry, just a little. Somewhere out there was a Tony who’d been enough for someone, who had never been asked to change himself, who’d been pushed up instead of repeatedly torn down and he didn’t know how to deal. 

He’d thought having a non-annoying Justin around would be funny.

This was not, it was goddamn distressing is what it was, because Tony hadn’t even known it was a possibility but now he is acutely aware of the fact that he got stuck with his Justin— the human embodiment of one of those yappy dogs who nipped at people’s heels thinking they were so tough, despite not being able to back it up.

This Justin was, uh, not that. Tony wasn’t sure if he was always like this, or if it was only with him because he shared a face with someone Justin cared about, but... was he always this much of a mom friend? And where’d that granola bar even come from, anyway? Not that he minded, it was a nice change of pace, but really?

...Tony was really going to miss him, once they figured out a way to send him back home.

.

To the commenter who said:

Stephanie isn’t a canon character, is she? Because if not, NHDD!Justin might be able to pull off a “the birth of my little sister awakened my previously deeply buried parental instincts” to explain his whole… [gestures uselessly].

.

Technically, she could be, in that Justin Hammer has a sister and nephew in canon [according to the wiki and a deleted scene, apparently]. I chose to make her a younger sibling in NHDD, to really emphasize the ‘reincarnated with shitty memory’ aspect of this AU. Specifically, while it’s never specified, Justin’s past life was...not great, and part of it was the fact that their younger sibling was sick. 

With what, they don’t remember anymore, but sick enough that they know health isn’t something to take for granted; sick enough that towards the end, they remember their parents had to choose between paying hospital bills and electricity, remember going to bed hungry because meds were expensive and their next paycheck wasn’t until Friday.

...suffice it is to say, there’s a reason Justin’s so protective of those he cares about, even if his memories faded a bit on the specifics as time went by.

To be fair, canon!Justin also cares for his sister and nephew; it’s just that NHDD!Justin acted more like a third parent than a sibling, once Stephanie was born. 

Bear in mind that canon!Justin’s situation is very different than NHDD!Justin’s, because canon!Justin was basically set up to fail from the start as a normal kid who was constantly compared to a child prodigy two years younger than him and terrible parents. While NHDD!Justin’s situation is similar on the surface, the difference is they’re literally a reincarnated OC, with all the baggage that entails.

Maybe, if their second life hadn’t been surrounded by adults with A+ Parenting Skills, 0/10 Do Not Recommend, their issues and traumas from last time wouldn’t have been exacerbated. If they’d been born to a regular family, Justin would’ve been a good kid but nothing special, and their memories of a past life would’ve faded away by the time they hit puberty.

But instead, they were born to the Hammer family, and proceeded to be put through the wringer. 

Which is bad enough, and meant they immediately started leaning hard on everything from their past life because these people wouldn’t know good parenting if it bit them on the nose, but...then Justin’s little sister was born, which immediately kick-started every older sibling instinct they’d ever had because last time they’d been responsible for their younger sibling’s health and safety and you can probably see where this is going. 

aka yes, some of Justin’s behaviors could arguably be called trauma responses and/or coping mechanisms and it’s something I only realized as I was writing this, and no, this AU was not supposed to be this messed up

Justin’s responsibility, their willingness to deal with shitty parents and do tremendous amounts of emotional labor if it helped anyone they took under their wing? That’s no accident, that’s what happens when a soul has to be the adult, has to step up because nobody else is going to. There’s a reason Justin has so much disdain for Hank Pym and Howard Stark’s immaturity, why they have so little patience for their parents as time goes on; their mental age means the older they get, the more they’re looking at the adults around them and judging them hard.

...ahem. Sorry for getting a bit off-topic, but hey, at least now you know a bit more about what’s going on inside Justin’s head!

And yeah, if he had to bs an explanation for why he’s such a mom friend, Justin’d be more than happy to point to his little sister as an excuse. So long as they know she exists, anyway; if not, he’ll just laugh it off and try to chalk it up to one of the differences between their universes.

.

edit to remove the stuff that got through my nonexistent brain-to-mouth filter because I was averaging a not-optimal amount of sleep as I got used to my new job

[ninjakasuga]

Sonally Celebration Week, Year 3, Day Three!

Day three is here, and as usual, I tend to go for my flair with thematic tones over the literal idea of the prompt. Everyone else enjoying what @gojira007 and their blog @boundforfreedomsonsal brings will find this to their pleasure.

Sonally Celebration Week, Year Three: Day Three

Foreward: This episode takes place mere months after Mystery. I know last year sometimes I hoped about the time-line a bit, while with at least episode one-through-three I’m keeping it rather linear in the story-telling. Last time we saw Sonic and Sally as babysitters to Sonic’s younger siblings; now their own time has parents twas’ nigh.

Day three: Crossroads

“Sonic Maurice Hedgehog, I love you, I love you with all my heart and soul, but-nrghh!” Grimacing, Sally Acorn-Hedgehog panted heavily as another contraction wracked her body. Her grip on the hand of her husband tightened. “But I swear, I SWEAR if you do this to me again, I-will-EAT-YOUR-SHINS!!”

Making a soft, but audible sound of physical distress, Sonic swore he felt the bones in his hand crunch. Yet he did not dare wretch it free, not that he felt he could if he wanted too. Sally’s grip was intense, and furthermore, any attempt to save his own skin would be met with death. As sweat trickled down his brow, making the mask attached to his face, and the scrubs he wore a bit uncomfortable. Yet his own discomfort was his least priority at the moment. “Y-you got it Sal, j-just hang in there a bit more…”

Sally’s eyebrow raised incredulously. “Hang in th-nrgh, t-there?! Oh my dear husband, you just did-urghhh! N-not tell me to hang in there? Just what the f**k do you think I’m doing?! I’ve been ‘hanging in there’ since my water broke and the contractions kicked in, and those two little darlings ‘you’ put in my belly can’t decide if they want to come out now, or kick Mommy’s bladder some more!”

“H-hey I’m just trying to help!’ He pleaded as she clutched his hand tighter than before. “I know this isn’t easy on you Sal, but it’s not like I can whip out a Power Ring or Chaos Emerald and make it better. If I could-ghhh, take your place I would!” Sonic knew this was in no-way easy, but in the span of a few hours he’d seen Sally run the gauntlet of her emotional range. Mostly all centered at being upset with him. Now he understood what his Dad meant by ‘Nothing will prepare either of you for this; but remember, Sally’s going to be put through a wringer, so be patient, and be understanding’. “Sal, please you need to calm down some, it’s not good for you, or the babies right Doc?”

The ‘Doc’ in question lifted her head from her position between the Queen’s legs. After almost twenty-plus years of service, Doctor Quack had retired from medicine but remained a consultant for the Acorn Kingdom Ministry of Medicine. So the new Royal Doctor, one Jolene Fredrick, and one of Quack’s protoge’s was tending to the birth of Sally and Sonic’s children. The spotted-Hyena doctor managed a bemused smile behind her surgical mask. “Your husband is quite right, your majesty, I know it hurts, but the more you let the pain stress you out, the more it will complicate things.” She spoke evenly, softly, and kindly but with a firm authority a doctor should carry. “I know giving birth to twins is not easy, especially for a first-time pregnancy, but despite the pain, it looks like the babies are finally about ready to come out.”

A part of Sally wanted to scream and kindly (or not so kindly) tell Jolene to jump out the window, or anyone else asking her to ‘bear with it more’. After all the hours she already had dealt with the discomfort, and false alarms, up until the pains really started to kick in over the last hour and a half. Yet Sally held back that urge, both from her brain managing to get through the pain and reminding her, Jolene was trying to help. Plus as a Mother herself, she’d had first-hand experience with what she was going through. The other reason she pushed her anger down was the soft touch of Sonic’s hand that wasn’t currently in the vice grip she was placing on the other. A quick glance into those emerald-pools, seeing concern and love, did much to soften her. 

A small whimper left Sally as she eased her grip and held Sonic’s hand to her face. “I’m sorry, it just huuuurts.” She whined softly, feeling utterly pathetic she was reduced to such a state. Her composure was thrown out the window, cursing freely, and just, the sheer roller coaster of hormones and emotions over the last several hours had taken a toll. “I want my babies, but-rugh, I want them out, nooooow!”

“I know Sal, I know.” Sonic murmured, wincing at the defeated, pained sounds coming from the love of his life. Bringing her hand to his face, he did his best to kiss the top of her hand through his surgical mask. “I’m with you, however long this takes you got me at your side.”

A small, strangled laugh left Sally as she managed a warm smile as she gazed at her husband. “How’d I get so lucky? Some people take forever to find their soulmate and I met mine at two years old.” Letting out a dreamy sigh, Sally pulled his hand to her and planted a kiss there, with both her hands (gently) cocooning both of her hands over his. Just as quick as the quiet moment came, it was taken away as Sally let out another sharp gasp. “Oooooooff!! I felt that one!”

Eyeing some equipment next to her, Jolene made a ‘hmm’ and then turned to look over at the couple. “Good news, it looks like the babies are finally making up their minds, one is starting to make way. Take deep breaths, your majesty, just like you practiced, we’re almost at the end goal.” She smiled through her mask, her own mild fatigue visible in her eyes. Yet like her predecessor there was a fire to see things through. “You can do this your Maj-.” “J-just Sally please!” Insisted the mother-to-be as she gripped the edge of her bed rails with one of her hands, as the other still clutched onto Sonic. “T-this is too personal to keep using formal titles. Nrgh, j-just for now, please, no titles.” 

A part of the doctor felt awkward at putting the habit of being so informal, but if it would help. “Alright Sally, we’re in the final stretch, deep breathes. We’ll see the crowning any moment now.”

Nodding, Sally looked to Sonic, wincing and breathing deeply as she was taught. “I love you.” “Back at’cha Sal, you got this.” Sonic fought back a wince from his extremely sore hand. Focusing more on giving Sally his support. “Back at’cha, now let’s welcome our kids and you get some rest.”

Some Time Later:

Exhausted deeply in body and soul, Sally could feel all this in the back of her mind; yet her focus was on anything but the fatigue. A warm, happy, glowing feeling replaced the fatigue as she stared at the two swaddled bundles in her arms. “They’re beautiful…” She cried, happily as she stared at the mewling infants. Who seemed to instinctively lean against her body through their swaddling. It had been worth it, the long labor, the pain, all-worth-it. The girl of the twin-set was a chipmunk-ish hybrid like Sally but clearly sported her Father’s blue hues in her fur. The boy, clearly of the hedgehog variety had the more soft browns of his Mother. Time would tell if Sally’s red hair, or the blonde or brown hair from Sonic’s side of the family would pop up.

As she glanced over at Sonic, she was nearly bowled over by the sheer awe in his eyes and face (his surgical mask was off). His eyes were misty, making her wonder if she was looking at a mirror of her own expression. “You just love in love don’t you?”

“Totally.” Sonic nodded, a strangled laugh leaving him as she leaned in, getting eyefuls of the two joys the two had both patiently and impatiently waited for all this time. It had been a long road to parenthood, both held off having kids right away due to many reasons after the war. The rebuilding efforts, just enjoying themselves free of fighting, and other small, miscellaneous reasons. Last year they finally felt ready and well, started working on getting Sally pregnant, which didn’t take long with how they were.

Sonic wondered if this surge of pride and absolute happiness was something both his parents felt when either his siblings and he had been born? The sheer high of it almost-no, no it absolutely did dwarf the high of running free in the wind. Gently he reached a hand down, running a finger along one child’s cheek, then the other. “Hey you two, glad to finally meet’cha. I’m Daddy, this is Mommy, and we’re going to love and look after you until the end of time.”

Nodding her head eagerly in agreement, Sally sniffed back more tears of joy. “Forever and ever, all ours.” She giggled, kissing the soft, furry cheeks of her newborns. “Welcome to the world Kathleen and Jaleel-Craig.

“I still think Justin-McCooiagel sounded pretty good.” Quipped Sonic with a smug, joking smirk.

“I will not let our son be mercilessly teased because his Father wanted to give him a ‘cool nickname like ‘Just Cool’ or whatever string of odd nicknames.” She firmly stated, giving Sonic a dull stare. “Seriously, one of your names was Radical. Just Radical.”

“Hey it’s a good gender-neutral name, and we knew we were having twins.” His wide grin, showcased he enjoyed pulling her chain. He mostly had been joking about the aforementioned names, well mostly. The ones they settled on were perfect. Kathleen Nicole Acorn-Hedgehog was named after Sally’s Grandmother that she sadly never got to know, and her middle name was in honor of a certain BFF of the Queen’s. Jaleel-Craig Acorn-Hedgehog, or J.C. for short, got his name from Sonic learning Jaleel had been one of ‘his’ potential birth names. Seems his Father knew a Jaleel from school who had been his best friend until he died in the war, and had considered giving him his name in remembrance, only to decide Bernie’s idea of Sonic seemed fitting. Both Sonic and Sally thought it would be a nice name, and as for the Craig addition, Sonic just liked the name, and felt a two-word name would be great for one of the kids. His desire won out after he won three out of five rock-paper-scissors matches with Sally for the final say-so.

“Sure it is…” Rolling her eyes Sally reached over and ran her hand, playfully over Sonic’s face. “You’re just lucky you are adorable.”

“Ha! Adorable wished it were me.” Murred Sonic as he nuzzled against her hand. “Although my wife and lovely children are top-tier competition.”

Snorting, Sally then yawned loudly. “Oh my, I-I *yawn*, damn it, I don’t wanna sleep…”

The door to the suite opened and Doctor Jolene stuck her head in. Having overhard the yawn, she gave the couple a knowing smile. “You should get your rest while you can. The kiddos will be tuckered out themselves, and the nurses will watch them overnight. Trust me you will want as much sleep as you can before they want to feed.” Given it was between two and three o’clock, the Royal Family didn’t have any visitors waiting on them until much later in the day to worry about.

As another yawn tore from her throat, Sally nodded in acceptance. She then poked at her own chest, semi-covered by her hospital gown. “Finally these udders will get some use. The swelling of the milk is getting annoying.”

A dirty joke formed in Sonic’s head, but he wisely (this time) fought off voicing it. A low, tired, yawn left him as well. “Snooze n’ Zzz’s sound about right Doc. Plus there’s that saying, we should get as much as we can?”

“As one parent to another, ooooh yes!” Laughed Jolene as she walked over to give the Mother and children a once over as a nurse came over with a rolling cart with two portable baby-carrier cribs for the infants to sleep in. “That should be your priority as much as looking after J.C. and Kathleen now, making sure you’re rested so you can look after them.” She then gives her Queen a playful-if-stern look. “Which means our dear Queen needs to knock off the all-nighter paper-work and project binges.”

Unable to not but wince at the accusation, Sally sighed in defeat. She knew her bad habit was one not to be ignored at this juncture in life. “I’ve already delegated my tasks to Nicole and the Council, and all necessary parties…”

“After taking weeks to painstakingly do so…” Her husband quipped with a mirroring playful-but-stern with a dash of accusatory as Doctor Jolene.

Sally sent Sonic a glare, but fatigue and looking upon the faces of her children made the frown go away. “I know what my priorities are… I know that I'm going to need to get back to running the kingdom but I’m not going to ever put these two what I meant through. I will find the balance.”

Rubbing her shoulder, Sonic leaned in, planting a kiss to her cheek. “N’ you got me to help, we’re doing this as a team forever, and always.”

“Always.” She agreed, craning her head to kiss him back. Another yawn left her as the nurse gently took the snoozing children. Her gaze followed them as they were carefully put in the sleeping cribs. “See you soon my loves’.” She murmured, eyes beginning to feel heavier as she watched them be wheeled out. “Love you Sonic…” She murmured feeling him tuck her in as her eyes closed.

“Love you too Sal, I’ll be right here.” He murmured, waiting until he was sure she was dozed off. Leaning back from her bed, he popped his back and shook his hands. One was extremely sore but thankfully not damaged. “I’m gonna get some water, and then I’m gonna crash myself Doc.”

“I have a rollaway being brought in for you.” She nodded, giving one last check over of Sally’s vitals, and pleased with what she saw, intended to conclude her rounds and get some shuteye herself. “Sleep well Prince-er Sonic.” She corrected as the Prince-Regent gave her a tired but mild glare. “Sorry, force of habit.” “S’okay Doc… Just titles n’ crap ain’t me, but I married a Princess who’s now Queen so… eh if you gotta for decorum n’ crude sure. Like this… Sonic is fine.” He grinned, giving a two finger salute before padding out of the suite. Water was his priority, his throat was dry, and then, bed. Sweet, sweet bedtime. If the way twins seemed to behave in the family held up, Sally and he would need to be on their toes sooner than later.

A new crossroad of life at been reached, and they were committed to what the future may hold for them and their family. 

[glenncoco4]

730 Days

A/N: Happy 2 years to our favorite couple! Also, a little callback to Higher Power.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

She hadn't been feeling good all day. These bouts of nausea along with major fatigue were effecting her more and more by the day. Her body and emotions were being put through the wringer, and on top of all that she kept getting worried glances from her husband all day at work, along with a myriad of text when he was out in the field.

He's worried about her, she knows that and if the roles were reversed there's no doubt that she would be acting the same, but she's also feeling a bit claustrophobic.

It's in the moment that he tells her she needs to eat something that she snaps back at him and she then realizes just how bad these mood swings are. He doesn't say anything back to her, but she can feel his eyes watch as she packs up her bag and starts heading towards the door.

She begrudgingly makes her way towards the truck as the defining silence and her husband follow her.

A few minutes later her eyes are watching the golden sun illuminates the buildings, as they pass by. She's so lost in her thoughts that when he turns onto a new street it takes a second to realize that they're in their neighborhood.

The blood quickly drains from her face when he pulls up into their driveway without a word and jumps out of the truck. They were suppose to be going to the pier for dinner in celebration but that's obviously not happening now, she shouldn't have snapped at him, he was only trying to help. She feels tears spring to her eyes and can't help fight the feeling of helplessness, as she reaches for the handle and prepares herself for a night full of silence.

She's so caught up in her actions that she doesn't notice him coming around to her side of the vehicle until he's opening the door with an understanding smile on his face.

He's immediately alarmed when he sees her tears, worried that something happened in the few brief seconds that he was absent. His hands find her face, as he scans her eyes, looking for any indication of what could be wrong. "Baby, what is it? Are you okay?"

Goddamn these hormones is the first thing that crosses her mind. Her eyes follow his cerulean blues that are mixed with worry and turmoil, unable to stop her lip from quivering as she slowly nods her head, but the tears are already falling.

Before she knows it, he's pulling her out of her seat and into his chest. His strong arms wrap around as he cradles her against his body helplessly. His lips find the crown of her head, feeling his own tears start to form in his eyes as she her fingers cling to back of his shirt. Her muffled sobs, breaking his heart that much more. "I thought you were mad at me."

He pulls back slightly, his finger finding her chin, tilting her head up so that he can see her beautiful eyes. "Baby, you have every right to feel how you're feeling. Your body is going through so much, I know you don't mean it and I also know that I've been a little annoying the past few days."

"A little?"

He scrunches his nose at her quick reply. "Touché."

His thumb finds her soft skin as he wipes her tear stained cheek, a teary-eyed smile spreading to her face. "Touché."

Unable to stop himself, he huffs a laugh. "Why do you do this to me?"

"What ever do you mean?"

He shakes his head, as she playfully bats her eyelashes at him.

Grabbing her hand, he reaches for her bag and then shuts the door before making their way into the house where he immediately guides her to their bedroom and tells her to undress. She's just about to protest when he slips into the bathroom and she hears the water turn on.

Doing as she's told, the brunette slowly pulls off her clothes, but grows curious when he doesn't immediately come back out. Once fully bare, she steps into the en suite and realizes why he's still in there. She's met with a very amazing view of his perfect derrière, as he pours some lavender along with bubbles into the water before lighting a few candles.

"Nice ass."

"Oh, you like that, huh?"

"Mmmhmm." She smirks as he pops his butt out even more and starts backing up into her.

She can't help but laugh a his ridiculous action when he suddenly stops, whipping around and places a kiss to her lips. "Your bath awaits you, my queen."

Taking his offered hand, she follows him to the tub, noticing that the jets are already turned on. God this man. With the help of her partner, she steps into the warm water, already feeling the pain and ache dissipate from her body.

She sits down, leaning her head back against the edge as her eyes slowly close. Taking a deep relaxing breath she waits for her husband to join but he never does, somewhat alarming her. She opens her eyes once again only to see him watching her, unmoving. "Husbands don't stare at their wives."

"Maybe not other husbands," He smiles thinking back to the last time she said those words to him and how so much has changed. Slowly bending down, he gets on his knees, now eye level with her, his fingers finding the stray piece of hair, and pushes it behind her ear. "But I most definitely stare at my wife."

The semi-shaggy blonde lets out a content sigh, raising his wife's curiosity. "What?"

"I shouldn't be allowed to be this happy."

He's trying to kill her; he's physically trying to kill her. His words paired with the look in his eyes tempts her to just pull him in with her, clothes and all. "I could make you even happier if you joined me."

"I know you could, but I have to do something." He doesn't make a move at her offer and stands up, leaning down once more to places a kiss to her forehead. "Enjoy your bath, baby."

XXXX

She steps into the the living room an hour later, surprised that her partner hadn't come to check on her. Her body almost feels like new, as she stretches her limbs. Stepping into the kitchen half expecting to see her man standing over the stove, she surprised yet again at the empty room. "Babe?"

He doesn't answer back, making her worry. She steps into the mudroom, thinking maybe he was doing some laundry or giving Monty a bath, but all she finds her their old pooch sprawled out in his bed. Bending down, Kensi runs her fingers through his mange. "Where's daddy, boy?"

He raises his head for a minute as if he's sizing her up before huffing and laying back down. "Yeah, I don't know either."

Tracking back down the hall, she's about to go for her phone when something in the backyard catches her attention. She walks over to the sliding glass door as she watches her husband maneuver around their new backyard, hanging up a string of lights that she pointed out to him the other day.

She watches as he hammers the nail, hitting his finger the first time before he's able to secure the wire. He hops off the ladder and meets her eyes, a nervous smile spreading to his lips, as she opens door.

Walking towards her, he runs his fingers nervously through his golden locks.

"What did you do?"

"Well, I know you probably weren't feeling up to going out tonight so during lunch run I stopped by the store and well..." His eyes lock with hers, as he tries to read her. "Is it okay?"

The tears begin to run down her cheeks as she nods, falling into his arms.

Taking her hand in his, he leads her over to the outdoor patio, as the fire in the pit crackles, and their favorite love song playlist playing in the background.

He guides her to the couch, stretching out his arm to offer her a seat. She watches as he quickly heads back inside but comes right back out with a steaming mug and a bottle of red Gatorade. If she wasn't married to him already, she'd definitely be down on one knee right now.

She gladly takes the mug of chicken broth from him as he sits the bottle of of electrolytes on the side table next to her sounding much more like a parent than she's ever heard before. "I thought this would be better on your stomach."

Grabbing one of his hands, she pulls him towards her, brining her lips to his. "Thank you, baby."

He places another kiss to her lips before taking a seat next to her, throwing the blanket over them as she curls into his side. "Anything for you."

She relaxes into his embrace, the bath was amazing but its nothing compared to this. Tilting her head back, she meets his eyes before he leans down, placing his lips to hers once more.

"730 days."

"That's a long time."

He nods, watching as she takes a sip of her broth. "How are you feeling?"

"A little better."

Nervously, he bites his lip, trying to find the courage to say what he's about to say. "I'm gonna say something and all I ask is that you hear me out."

"Okay?"

"I think we should consider adoption."

She whips her head around so fast that she almost gives herself whiplash. "Deeks..."

"Let me finish."

She nods for him to continue and places her mug next to her drink before turning her body fully to face him. The sadness she sees in his eyes worrying her.

"I just hate seeing you like this and knowing that I can't do anything about it. You're making all these sacrifices and we're not even sure this will work. Plus there are tons of kids out there that need parents...that could need us."

"Why are you just now telling me this?"

"Honestly, I know how much you want this...how much we both want this, but I see the toll it's taking on you and I just want you to be okay."

"I can handle this."

"I know but-"

She shakes her head, cutting him off. Her hand finding the scruff of his jaw, his immediately covering it. "But nothing, Deeks. I knew what I was getting into when we started to go this route, and I want this. I want to at least try this because I think if I don't, I'll always wonder what if...we'll always wonder."

"Are you sure?"

Her heart breaks a little at the strain in his voice. "Baby-"

"I just want you to be okay."

"I know." Her lips find his, trying to reassure him as much as possible. Slowly standing up, Kensi offers her hand to him. "Dance with me?"

"Always." He smiles, taking her hand and pulls her into him, her head finding its place in the crook of his neck.

They're able to get through two song, before her dizziness kicks in again. He helps her sit down, handing her the bottle of Gatorade.

Knowing that she's probably about ready to call it a night, he reaches behind the couch and pulls out a bag, handing it over to her. "I actually got you something."

"For me?" She's confused because they both agreed that they weren't doing presents which should've set off her warning bells because it was his idea in the first place. Opening it, she reaches into the paper bag and slowly removes the bottle. A knowing smile graces her face when she sees the familiar label.

"Yeah, its a gift for the tropical sun, it's made by a woman in Venice for a very select clientele, it's hypoallergenic and made with organic coconut oil, shea butter and jojoba."

She gives him a knowing smile, flashing back to 9 years ago at Christmas when he last said those words to her. The Gatorade is helping ease her stomach and she's feeling a lot better. She bites her lip as a plan begins to form in her head. Looking up at him under he eyelashes, she flashes him an "innocent" smile. "You know what would be really good right now?"

"Huh?"

"If you gave me a deep tissue massage with this."

"You're wish is my command, Princess."

She leans forward, bringing her lips to his ear as she whispers. "Sans clothing."

His eyes go wide as her hand finds its way down his stomach and into his boxers, leaving his mouth dry. "Yep, no-yep, that sounds good."

[ruthoakenshield]

The Lady in the Black Leather (Ch 26)

Catch up previous chapter: [Chapter 25]

Warning: for age 18+ readers ONLY!!! mentions of torture and rape and abuse and survival. do not read if this triggers you.

photos borrowed from evermore-fashion’s blog

Graham heads to the nurse’s station and asks if they can put more ice in the cup for you. While they do that, he mentions to Rich what all you had revealed to the lawyer and to him about your other two ex-boyfriends and why you didn’t mention more about them to him earlier.

Rich was annoyed that you didn’t tell him about them as well, but understood why you didn’t. He realized he wouldn’t have been able to keep his cool if you had told him. It still hurt though that you told Graham and the Lawyer before you told him, but he did tell you to tell her everything. So, he knew he couldn’t get mad at you for it. You had done what he asked you to do.

Rich sighed. “She really had been through the wringer. Six and a half years of torture and abuse!!! How the hell does someone survive that and still be the way she is?” Richard asks, baffled.

“Hope and a stubborn streak a mile long.” A nurse named Ann says to him as she comes back with the cup of ice.

“That’s how a woman survives being in an abusive situation for a long time. I know, I was in one.” she says.

Richard and Graham nod.

Richard asks her if the hospital has specific visiting hours. She nods and tells him that it is from 8am -10pm daily.

“Thanks Lass.” Graham says and they head back to your room.

They chuckle when they get back in the room and you are sound asleep. Exhausted from the day’s events.

Graham chuckles quietly, fills your cup with water from the sink, grabs the cover and pops it on the cup. He places it on your bedside table and tells Richard that he will head out and see him tomorrow. Graham kisses the top of your head and whispers “Good night, Lass. Sweet dreams.” And then heads out.

Richard stands at the end of your bed, thinking about all you told him the other night when you first let him make love to you. And then thinks about the new info Graham passed on to him that was learned about you. He shook his head in disbelief. His heart ached for you, his beloved angel.

Six and a half years, he couldn’t believe you survived six and a half years of torture, verbal, physical and emotional abuse, and rape from men who never loved you. You never experiencing what a real loving relationship with a man was until you met him.

He watched as you slept, wishing he could take all that pain and suffering you had endured away and give you a fresh start. He pulls out his phone and takes a photo of you sound asleep in your hospital bed.

He started to think of special ways he could let you know how much you meant to him. Grinning, he realized there would be a premiere for his new movie in NY, and LA, London and Hong Kong and that you would need a new dress for each one.

Grinning, he began to search his favourite designers for women on his phone to see if they had any new designs he liked. He found several new dress designs and emailed them asking if they would be interested in his girlfriend wearing one of their dresses on the red carpets of the premieres of his new film. He wasn’t about to let Graham have all the fun playing ‘dress up’ with you.

Richard grins, when he finds a particularly gorgeous pink and gold gown on a tumbler feature.

When he looks at the name it says, ‘anarkali style’ he contacts the designer telling them that he absolutely loves the pink and gold dress she had designed and attaches a copy of the image as well as a photo of you he took. He asks if she would be willing to design something along the lines of the dress for you for his movie premiere in London.

She replies immediately that she would LOVE to design his girlfriend a gown and to bring you to her studios in a couple weeks. She asks if he could get your measurements to her ASAP so she can begin working on a few designs. She also asks if he has any color preferences. He just says, “Whatever colors would look the most flattering on her. She has never walked the red carpet with him before and will be doing it for the first time in NY and then LA and then London, then Hong Kong.

He explains you are very, very special to him and you have been through hell from prior relationships and he wants you to feel like the treasure, and the princess you are to him.

She grins and asks if he could send any other pictures so she can get a sense of your style and color preferences. He chuckles and replies, “She is usually found in black, but we are trying to work her into other colors.” He attaches some of the other photos he has taken of you. “She loves corsets, by the way.” He adds to the message then sends it off.

She replies. Ahhh, well this will be fun! I look forward to seeing you both, Richard. Meet me at my studios with her next Thursday, shall we say, at three pm? She asks. He looks at the calendar on his phone and sees it is open. He messages his assistant and confirms there is nothing on the books for that day and time. She confirms that and he tells her to put the appointment into his books then messages the designer back that it should work for him He will let her know if plans need to be modified.

She replies and thanks him for his interest in her gowns.

Just then Aiden and Scarlett return with Phantom. They see Richard smirk and ask, “What’s that smirk all about?”

Rich picks up all the cards, with Scarlett’s help and they quickly put the game away. He hands the box to Aiden and motions for them to follow him out into the hallway. He closes the door to your room and shows them the beautiful pink and gold gown. “I contacted the designer to see if she would make something like this for Harley for one of the four movie premieres we will be going to.” He giggles. “She said ‘yes’ and to bring Harley to the design studio next Thursday to be fitted for the gown.” He grins.

Scarlett grabs the phone and looks at the gown. “OH MY GOSH, Richard! That is a GORGEOUS gown!!! But how are you going to get Harley to wear anything besides black!?!?!” she asks excitedly.

“I asked the designer to make the gown in whatever color would look best on Harley and sent her some of the pictures I’ve taken of her. She will need Harley’s measurements ASAP, Scarlett. Do you know what her measurements are?”

Scarlett grins and nods. “I have them saved in my phone along with all the sizes of clothes she wears.” She replies.

Both men look at her in disbelief. “Why do you have all that in your phone?” Aiden asks.

“When she would have to run from her ex-boyfriends, she usually left behind her clothes and only took her favourites. When the last ex dumped her, we purged everything from her closet, and she chose to only wear black after that. She hardly had anything to wear. I think 3 t-shirts, and a couple pairs of skinny black jeans. So, I measured her, and made notes of the sizes of all the clothes she wore so if I was out shopping, I could pick up new clothes for her.” She replied.

They both nodded and Scarlett texts Richard your measurements and height. He quickly sends it off to the designer, then thanks Scarlett. “Now I just have to find two more dresses for her for the other two premieres. He mumbles.

Scarlett giggles. “Want some help with that?” she asks. Rich looks up from his phone and sees how excited she is. He glances at Aiden, who is grinning. Then he gets an idea. Do you work tomorrow? He asks.

“No. I have tomorrow off, why?” Aiden asks. “Cuz we are going to shop for another dress for Harley with Scarlett.” He informs them. “Come over tomorrow morning. Scarlett, I want you to scour the fashion blogs and websites and look for some options that you think Harley might like. Be sure to check the more obscure designers, or up and coming ones too!” he tells her.

Scarlett squeals with glee. “Oooohh I get to have some fun!” she exclaims.

Aiden and Richard chuckle and roll their eyes at her. “I’ll see you two tomorrow morning. Call me when you’re ready to meet and we’ll figure out a place to meet at.” Richard tells them both.

They nod and wave goodbye. Rich heads back into your room and grins. You’re curled up on one side of the bed, leaving room for him to snuggle in with you. Rich slips off his shoes and puts them by the wall, out of the way. He removes his jacket and sweater, then climbs into the bed with you carefully and gently pulls you against his chest.

You stir, but don’t wake. He holds you close, just enjoying your scent of ylang ylang and peppermint shampoo from the hospital. He kisses the top of your head and shuts his eyes. The evening officer enters a half hour later to find the two of you sound asleep. He chuckles and lets you two sleep in each other’s arms while he plays quietly with Phantom and the rope toy.

The next morning, Richard wakes to find a nurse poking his arm. “Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to move off the bed for me. I need to get some vitals from Miss Harley.”

Richard yawns and apologizes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to spend the night here with her. Just wanted to cuddle with her for a bit before heading home. Guess I fell asleep.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to wake up. He sits up and gently slides his arm out from under you, then stands and stretches after moving out of the nurse’s way.

“It’s okay, Mr. Armitage, she is lucky to have you for a boyfriend.” The nurse named Ann replies. Richard realizes it is the same nurse from last night that he and Graham had briefly talked to… the one who had been in an abusive relationship for a long time. “You seem to treat her much better than her last one.” she tells Richard.

He looks at her confused. “How do you know about her last boyfriend and how he treated her?” Richard asks.

“I took care of her the last time she was brought in after he had his way with her.” She simply replied. “He had taken her and mutilated her nether regions after she refused to have sex with him. He tortured her and her employer grew suspicious when the boyfriend kept calling her in sick. They sent the police to find out what was going on. The cops found her in a basement room, strapped down and barely clinging to life from what he did to her. During her hospital stay, the doctor discovered her Uterine Fibroid and began to recommend to her to have the hysterectomy she ended up having after Christmas.” The nurse explained.

“We got to be good friends, since she was in the hospital for nigh on a month recovering from what her boyfriend did and then the surgery. I helped her and visited her at home afterwards and saw her slipping into a deep depression. It worried me, but she kept saying she was ‘fine’. I’m glad to see she found someone decent to treat her right and love her. She deserves it after all she has been through.” She tells Richard.

He is shocked by the new info the nurse just shared. He realized, suddenly, that those scars on your nether regions he had seen were quite recent and he was surprised that you had let him even near them. He realized you were showing him exactly how much he had earned your trust when you did that. He felt honored by it.

Richard is sure she probably broke protocol by sharing that info with him, but he appreciated her doing so. It angered him hearing what the ex did to his girl, but he can’t help but be further amazed at your resiliency. He shakes his head and sighs. “I can’t believe she has gone through so much hate and abuse, and yet still can be such a loving and kind person. She’s like a ray of sunshine in the lives of not only me but my friends as well!” he says quietly as the nurse continues to take Harley’s vitals.

“I remember her once saying to me that she wished she was loved by someone the way her parents loved each other. Apparently, her Father worshipped the ground her Mother walked on. At the time she told me this, her parents had been dead only about a year or so, and it appeared that she had been close to them and greatly missed them. She clung to a hope that someone would see the mess she was in and rescue her from it and whisk her away from her home life and give her a new, happier one. She is stubborn and I believe that the hope of being rescued, that there’s something and someone better for her out there, and her stubbornness she fiercely clung to helped her survive all she had been through.” She tells Richard.

“She seems happy with you and this new circle of friends who have been hanging around her since she got here. I recognized the one lady with the red hair, she came to see her often in the hospital when I first met Harley. Thick as thieves, those two. Almost like Sisters, they are.” She chuckles. “I hope you all continue to treat her well.” She tells Richard.

Richard sits listening to the nurse ramble. Thinking about your hope that had kept you alive. He smiled, remembering something his Father told him when he was younger and just learning about girls. “All girls want their knight in shining armor to come rescue them. Be that kind knight, Son, the right girl will appreciate all you do for her and will be faithful and loyal to her brave knight.”

“We love her to pieces. She is a very special woman to me… and to us all. I just hope I can live up to her ‘knight in shining armor’ hope.” He says.

The nurse chuckles. “Richard, she doesn’t want a knight in shining armor. She told me that she wants one in dented and dinged up armor.” The nurse chuckles.

Richard looks at her confused, brows furrowed. “Huh?” he asks.

She grins. “Think about it, if a knight is in shining armor, with no dents or dings, what does that tell you?” she asks, pausing in her recording of vitals.

He thinks but isn’t sure what she is getting at, and gives the nurse a raised eyebrow and a frown.

She chuckles and replies, “That he is inexperienced, he hasn’t seen battle yet. He hasn’t had his mettle tested. A wise woman will look at it, see that, and realize she has no way of knowing if he will stand his ground and fight for her or if he will tuck tail and flee when the going gets tough.

But a knight in dull, dented and dinged up armor… that tells a wise woman that he has seen many battles, fought bravely defending his love and his country, and will stay with her and fight for her and protect her when the going gets tough. It tells her he won’t tuck tail and flee, abandoning her when life throws us lemons and we struggle to make lemonade with them. That is the kind of knight she wants… and needs, Richard, one in dull, dented and dinged up armor.”

Richard nods, thinking about what the nurse told him. He watches her as she helps a now waking Harley sit up and adjusts the bed to a sitting position.

“Morning, Love.” He greets you as he stands and comes over to the other side of the bed. “How is my little ray of sunshine this morning?” he asks as he kisses your forehead.

You yawn and stretch. “I’m okay. Still tired though, and my leg hurts, and I’m hungry.” You tell him.

“What would you like for breakfast?” he asks you as he brushes hair out of your eyes and the nurse hands him a soapy washcloth to clean your face with.

He gently washes your face as you ponder what to have for breakfast. “Keep your eyes closed, Love.” He tells you. You hear the water running in the sink as your nurse friend rinses out the washcloth, then hands it back to Richard.

You feel him gently rinsing the soap from your face with the warm washcloth. Once he is done, you open your eyes and grin. “Pancakes, crispy (almost burnt) bacon, cheesy scrambled eggs and Orange Juice.” You reply.

He chuckles and nods. “Your wish is my command, Sweetheart.” Rich tells you and peppers your face with light kisses, making you giggle. “I will go find you your breakfast. Do you want any coffee or cappuccino?” he asks.

Your eyes light up and you ask for a French Vanilla Cappuccino. He grins and nods. “I will be back once I have found your breakfast order.” He says with another kiss to your forehead and a little bow as he stands. “Wait for me, my princess, and I will return with your Breakfast soon.” He tells you with a wink, and then heads out in search of your breakfast.

You and Ann chuckle at his antics.

He heads out the door and hails a cab, then heads home to change clothes and get freshened up. Aiden calls and he tells them about the mission you sent him on. Aiden chuckles and offers to pick him up and they will go get you and them breakfast. He thanks them and they arrive within a half hour to his place.

He climbs in the back seat and they head off to their favourite breakfast joint to grab food to eat. They all order their food to go and then head to a coffee shop so Rich can get you a cappuccino and himself a coffee. Once they have everything, they all head back to the hospital.

During the drive, Scarlett shows Richard some of the dresses she found online. Some he didn’t care for, but others he loved. Then Scarlett showed him “THE DRESS” as she called it, saying she found it on a wonderful fashion blog on Tumblr. Richard’s jaw dropped. He nodded.

The gown was a black velvet fitted hourglass dress with a subtle pattern stamped into the velvet. Three thin spaghetti straps on each side criss cross across the open back to hold the dress in place. Along the front collar area were a triangle of blood red rubies pointing down to your belly, the slit at the front and center of the bottom of the dress went up to your knee height and was lined with blood red fur trim and it looked like the inside of the skirt was lined with the furry trim as well. It followed the hem of the dress around to the back and lined the bottom hem of the dress. It was stunning in the photo and Richard wanted to see you wear it for the London premiere.

Scarlett grinned and could see Richard trying to picture you in the gown. Yes, if you wore this, you would most definitely be getting laid that night! She realized.

Richard asks Scarlett to send him the photos of the dress and the designer’s name. She does and he immediately contacts the designer and asks if they would consider making this dress for you in your size for his movie premiere. They agree to, and ask him to send them your measurements and tells him to bring you to their design studio next week. He sends them the measurements he got from Scarlett and then looks and tells them that next Sunday would work best for him. They agree on a time and he enters it into his planner on his phone that is linked to his assistant’s so she can see the appointments too.

Richard smiles. “Ok, so we have this dress, the pink and gold one, and the one that Graham bought for her. We just need one more dress. Let’s show her these and let her pick the last one for the Hong Kong Premiere.” He explains.

Scarlett nods. “I can’t wait to see how great she will look in these, Rich. She is going to LOVE them!!!” she says excitedly. “I wish we could go and see the premieres and walk the red carpet with you guys.” She says dreamily.

Aiden and Rich exchange glances and smirk. Aiden raises an eyebrow and Rich nods. Aiden nods back. Rich looks down to his phone and messages his agent and the director asking if it is possible he could have two more tickets for each of the four premieres.

They arrive back at the hospital and head up to your room. When they enter your room, they see Graham sitting by you reading his book, the nurse is finishing hooking up your iv. You’re freshly showered and are trying to comb out your hair, which is slung over your right shoulder. You have your black peasant top on with your corset and some light makeup. Phantom is sitting at the foot end of your bed and raises his head and woofs at the three people entering the room, his nose sniffing the air as he smells everyone’s breakfast.

“Hey!” you say, grinning. “Thought you guys got lost or something.” You tease. “Scarlett, can you help me get this combed out? It’s more snarled today for some reason. I don’t think my hair likes the hospital shampoo.” You tell her. “Maybe one of you can bring mine and the conditioner up the next time you come to visit.” You ask.

She tells you she’ll bring it next time, then takes the bottle of hair oil and puts some in her hands. You sit up and she works it into the snarls and tangles, then gently finger combs the larger tangles out. Handing her the comb, you sigh as she works out the smaller tangles and gets your hair all nice and smooth and shiny. You have her part it down the middle of your head and you begin to French braid it while they get breakfast set up.

Richard watches in fascination as you weave your hair into the braids. “How do you not get it all tangled with your fingers?” he asks as you braid the second one on the side he is standing on.

You glance up at him and reply, “It’s easy once you know how to do it. I just add small amounts of hair to each of the two outer strands, then braid it like a normal three strand braid, then add another small amount to each of the outer strands each time I go to braid. See? Watch.” You tell him and slow down your fingers so he can see the process.

“Oh! I see what you mean, now!” he tells you. Finishing your braid, you look around for another hair tie. “Where did that hair tie go? I just had it on my leg!” you ask.

He glances around and then sees it on the floor. “Here it is, Love. It fell on the floor when you moved.” He tells you as he picks it up and hands it to you. “What are you getting all dolled up for?” he asks.

“Um, Rich, Honey, the first court hearing is today, remember?” you remind him. He rolls his eyes and nods. “I forgot it was today, sorry.” He tells you and lets out another yawn.

You raise an eyebrow at him and then look at the breakfast food. Grinning you dig into your breakfast and savor each bite. The four of you talk and chuckle.

“What time are you meeting with he judge?” Scarlett asks. You tell her the time and she looks up at the clock. We had better get your laptop set up with Skype, honey.” She informs you.

You nod and Rich grabs your laptop off the shelf and hands it to you. Aiden helps you set up a Skype account and gets you all ready for the call.

You thank them all for the help and Aiden and Scarlett head out after you all finished eating. “Let us know how it goes, Sweetie.” Scarlett tells you as she gives you a hug.

You nod and wave as they leave. Phantom comes over and lays down next to you and puts his head on your lap. Then sits up and scoots closer to you and rests his head on your shoulder and whines a little.

You sigh and look over at him and pet his head.

Stay tuned, more chapters to follow!!!

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[resilientmama]

Before there was an us...

I’ve detailed out the basics of my alienation and how I’ve came to this fork in the road with my own journey. I’ve hinted at bits and pieces of how my alienation and Taylor’s alienation are intertwined.

For first time spectators, Taylor is my sweet husband. We’ve been together for three years and married for one year. We share two sons, Logan and Paxton. We live in a home that we love and live an amazing life compared to the turmoil we experienced during our relationships of the past.

In the last three years we have put in many hours, lots of tears, laughter and grief, among other things to build one another up to who we both are today. I can honestly say our relationship has been put through the wringer many times. But we have stuck it out. We have one of the most open and honest relationships I’ve ever witnessed. Sometimes it can get ugly, but it always snaps right back to its original state. The individuals who used our circumstances to try to wedge a gap between us and the love we have definitely got an adverse reaction. We made the conscious choice to always put one another first and it has always benefited us this far.

To an outsider, it might seem my alienation led to Taylor’s. But contrary to popular belief, I must inform you that this man’s alienation started before I was even of legal age.

Before I proceed, I would like to state that I have my husband’s permission to post this story and the details within. This is his firsthand account of the last twelve years of his life, his journey with ongoing manipulation, physical and psychological abuse and alienation from his two children. I will not share the names of anyone involved in this that I have not had permission to do so.  

Taylor got into a serious relationship when he was at the young age of nineteen years old. His partner at this time had a child that was an infant. This infant had a man, who was under the impression he was his father, in and out of his life from the time he was born until near the age of one year old. As the relationship progressed Taylor and his partner moved in together. The child was left behind to live with its grandmother until after constant encouragement and annoyance from a family member probed his partner to bring the child to live with them in their home. Shortly after, the child’s assumed father notified Taylor’s partner that he had a DNA test performed on the child and that he was in fact not the biological father. This left Taylor as the only father figure in the child’s life, then and now.

Moving forward Taylor learned he was soon to be deployed through the National Guard. Taylor and his partner made the decision to quickly get married. This is a regret he lives with to this day.

Roughly a month after getting married, Taylor found out that his partner had chosen to cheat on him. At this time, they were residing in the hometown of one of Taylor’s parents, three hours from Taylor’s hometown and the county the marriage occurred in. Taylor inquired about annulling the marriage. He was told that he would have to file in the county the marriage took place. As Taylor was the sole financial provider for their small family, he couldn’t take time off from work or afford to go file. He had to make the decision to grin and bear it and continued on with the “marriage.”

Now Taylor receives orders to go on his deployment with the National Guard to Iraq. His partner falls pregnant months before he is set to leave. They proceed on with the pregnancy and his first biological child, to his knowledge, is born while he is on his tour.

A normal person has an expectation for life. You grow up, get married, have children and have a happy ending. That was all nothing less that false for Taylor.

He returned home from his tour hopeful that the new child and a fresh start would be what this marriage needed to thrive and survive. It appeared the new baby and the new ownership his spouse believed she had over him was almost too much for him to bare.

This behavior started a viscous cycle. Breaking up, making up, Taylor being physically assaulted regularly. Taylor constantly being kicked out of their home, because why should someone paying all the bills have the right to live in a home that they’re footing the bill for? This was also the first taste of Taylor’s alienation from his children.

Taylor was not the biological father of his partner’s oldest child. So, when it came his time to have the children, he was only allowed access to his biological child and told he had no rights to his other child he had been raising since infancy. That said child did not have a father and it wasn’t his business to worry about.

If anyone reading this knows Taylor, they know his heart. It is bigger, more loving and more selfless than most others, especially when it comes to the children in his life. Things like this broke him emotionally. If there’s anything you can do to hurt that man, it’s taking away access to his children.

Once again, the marriage and relationship were “reconciled” everything was going smoothly again...or so he thought.

Taylor was set to go on an important training with his unit in the National Guard. Days before he was set to leave his partner comes home from a night out at the bar and lets him know that there’s someone else in the picture and it’s time for a divorce. Taylor collects himself and his things and proceeds on to training, not knowing what events are going to occur next.

Another man was moved into the home he shared with his partner. Taylor is forced to get his own place. And that was fine with him. But it could never be that easy, right?

Taylor is denied access to his children on and off at the needs and wants basis of his partner. I need money, you can see the children. I want to go to the lake all weekend, here it’s your turn to have the children. And of course when things were really amplified he was once again denied access to his non-biological child because he had to legal rights to the child, yet he was helping pay for his housing, clothing, daycare and any other expenses that seemed to constantly be occurring.

But not only was the alienation occurring, there were also various forms of psychological and emotional abuse going on. To be cut and dry here, they were still continuing on a sexual and emotional relationship behind the back of his partners new beau.

His partner used this as a warfare between the two men. A sick pleasure was found in watching the two men fight and pawn over said partner.

At this point in time Taylor felt forced to proceed with the adoption of his non-biological child. He had attempted to adopt the child before but was told that the actual biological father needed to be found. After nearly four DNA tests, that’s a direct number from Taylor, the child’s father was found. With the help of his partner, they began and eventually finished the child’s adoption and he now had legal rights to the fatherless child he had been raising since before he was a year old.  

To Taylor’s surprise he was notified by his partner that once again a pregnancy had occurred, and he was one hundred percent the father of the unborn child. He was even told that there was not one baby, but two, twins. Taylor was overwhelmed, but happy that he was having another biological child or children.

Naturally, conditioned to the constant abuse, Taylor assumed that the marriage was going to reconcile, and it was time for that portion of the cycle to restart.

Shortly after the news of the pregnancy Taylor was contacted by his partner’s now ex-boyfriend and informed that he was positive the baby was in fact his and he wanted a DNA test performed on the baby, in utero.

The DNA test was performed, and Taylor was not the father of this child.

So, the scheme to convince Taylor the product of this extramarital affair was in fact his failed. That didn’t stop his partner and it didn’t stop the cycle.

He endured months more of psychological abuse, being alienated from his children and his bank account being sucked dry by the constant need of his partner for money.

He caved and once again the marriage was reconciled.

Yes, we’re up to near five reconciliations at this point.

Taylor had met at least two good girls that would have made excellent long-term girlfriends, eventually wives and stepmothers, at this point. And he ruined each and every one of these relationships by participating in this cycle and abuse he was trapped in. (This point will be very important when it comes to part two of his story.)

Taylor was convinced that the biological father of the new baby was going to be cut out of the picture, and he would assume responsibility of the child. He was even promised that he was going to be allowed on the birth certificate and it would be like it never happened.

But that was not the case. Why? Because this new baby that was coming into Taylor’s life had an excellent biological father, in fact. A man who has been there, stepped up and care and loved for that child since the day it was born.

If there’s anything to say for Taylor’s now ex-partner, two great men were chosen to reproduce with. And I’ll spare you the fluff details and let you know after a few years Taylor and this man became good friends and they co-parented said child better than I’ve ever seen a man and a woman co-parent a child. So good job guys, if either of y'all are ever reading this.

The child was born. Taylor stood on standby while his partner participated in all the normal father and mother hoopla stuff at the hospital with their new baby. He even stood by as they took professional newborn photographs together with the baby.

If your heart hasn’t broken for him by now, then you probably don’t have one. It’s hard for me to write this myself, hence why it’s taken me so long.

And sadly, the cycle continued. Only amplified now. In my opinion, and Taylor’s, his partner had a lot of anger over choices that had been made. This anger was constantly projected on to Taylor. His anger was projected back on to his partner. There weren’t happy days anymore, there wasn’t love. The relationship was existing for the sole purpose of the children and not being able to handle finances on their own.

There was more cheating, lying, money missing and spent without regard to bills or the needs of the children.

While all of this was going on Taylor had taken on the role of a second dad to the new baby in his home. The baby was taught to call him daddy. He was meeting all the financial, physical and emotional needs of the child while in his care. He loved the child as his own and enjoyed watching it grow, like it was his own.

Taylor was called up for another deployment, Afghanistan this time. That’s when he made a conscious decision to sit down with his partner and have a serious talk. They both spoke their peace and he left on the note that the emotional and physical side of the marriage was over, that he was only hanging on so that he could actively be in his children’s lives.

Why would Taylor have this mindset? That the only reason he was able to be in his children’s lives was because he was continuing on the marriage and essentially the financial support of his partner? Because he was already experiencing parental alienation, and he just didn’t realize it.

Taylor never says it, but I know this was his hardest deployment he went on. I believe Taylor really did love his partner, and some part of him did value that marriage certificate they both signed. But he also knew he wasn’t valued and that things were never going to change.

During the tour he was constantly notified by family and friends that his partner was never in possession of their children, his vehicle was repossessed, all of his military pay was being spent at the casino, bars, hair and nail salons and shopping. Bills weren’t getting paid, and most of all he knew his children weren’t being taken care of. He was watching his bank account transactions for thousands of miles away and just hoping whoever was in possession of his children were keeping them safe.

I’m going to stop writing here. Mainly because sitting here writing out the basic details of what’s happened to my husband hurts my heart more than my own story hurts me. This is just a small portion of the alienation and manipulation that have went on over the last twelve years. On Taylor’s end, at this point there is no end in sight as to when this will end.

In part two we will visit the end of Taylor’s marriage and the point in time that we meet and our stories and alienation journey’s merge.

Thank every single one of you for reading and thank you for your constant support. I’m still receiving messages daily, containing love, support and some of the most heartfelt apologies that I have ever got the pleasure of receiving.

Until next time.

Disclaimer: I will not disclose the names of my other children and stepchildren, along with anyone else involved without their permission. Do not send hate, threats or make disparaging comments to anyone involved in my story. My goal is not to cause harm. My goal is clarification and my opportunity to tell my story.

[baynotbayley]

( britt robertson + 24 + muse 44 ) isn’t that BAY DELTA over there? i heard SHE joined FACTION THREE after she got back to west ham. it’s funny, ‘cause she was only on the service trip because HER BROTHER THOUGHT IT WOULD BE FUN TO GO TOGETHER. hopefully she’ll fit in there – she’s ADVENTUROUS, but also IMPULSIVE. oh, i’m sure she’ll be fine. 

guess who’s back, back again -- rach is back, tell a friend!

hi y’all! i’m here to introduce my trash daughter -- bay is a beloved child of mine who has gone through the wringer but also will not hesitate to put others through the wringer. you can read bay’s bio (which may or may not be longer than peyton’s) here and you can also see the BONUS bio for her service dog lucky here. or if you don’t feel like reading those (let’s be real, who reads anymore???) there’s a play-by-play under the cut! i am still just as much a sucker for plotting, please come talk to me, i love you all so much.

CONTENT WARNING: Paternal Abandonment, Paternal Death (this intro goes into more detail than her bio, more specific warnings under the cut), Amputation Details

So if Peyton belongs to the “looks like and is a cinammon roll” squad, Bay Alexandra Delta most definitely belongs to the “looks like she can kill you and also probably can kill you” squad.

Her initials literally spell “BAD”, like, if that’s not a sign idk what is

This human bean is a firecracker in a 5′3″ frame; she’s got some rough skeletons in her closet, but she tries to go with the flow of things and just live her best life and I high-key admire her for that 

Bay was born in San Clemente, California to Mackenzie (Mack) & Brady Delta

Mack worked for the city as an engineer, she was very book smart but very particular & required calm & order to thrive

Brady was the head of the city’s Marine Safety department, he was the kind of person who thrived in social situations, who may not have been as book smart as Mack but damn did he know a lot about the world

Bay was the fix-it baby who didn’t fix-it!!

Mack was out the door less than a year after Bay was born, leaving Brady to take care of their daughter himself

And like, take care of her he did. He made a promise to himself when Mack left that he would do everything he could do make sure that Mack’s absence wouldn’t prevent Bay from having a great childhood

And believe me when I say that Bay really did have a great childhood.

She and Brady lived in an apartment right on the beach; Bay spent the first six years of her life with sand between her toes and an ever-present smell of sea breeze

Bay inherited her mother’s intelligence but her father’s soul; she was a people person, first and foremost, and talked to everyone and anyone who would talk to her & thrived off of the human connection

She picked up surfing & skateboarding at a very young age, & spent a large amount of time outside -- I mean, when you live in San Clemente, why wouldn’t you??

Brady was very present in Bay’s early childhood, save one weekend a month where he’d drop Bay off with family friends

Bay never asked where he went but I bet y’all can connect those dots (if you need help connecting them, though, no judgement -- lemme know)

The last weekend trip he took, though, was right before Bay turned seven, and Brady came back with a little surprise

This surprise is better known as Sammy “Squirt” Delta, Bay’s half-sibling

Sammy was the missing piece Bay didn’t realize they needed; the family of two became three and for a long time, everything was really really good.

Bay and Sammy went to public school in San Clemente

Bay’s never been afraid to stand up for what’s right, nor is she afraid to use harsh words (or fast fists) to convince others of what’s right -- which meant there were definitely some calls home during school

Bay was an excellent student, though, which probably saved her from getting into as much trouble as she should’ve as a kid

Bay’s also always been an avid reader, and was also the kid who could be found in the morning with a flashlight in her hand and a book on her chest. Squinting at pages in the dark was not good to her eyesight, though, and she got her first pair of glasses at age nine. For a while, she didn’t mind them, but by the time she started high school she was practically begging her dad to buy her contacts, and its rare to find her glasses now (although, we’ll see how long that contacts supply lasts her)

BEGINNING OF POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING CONTENT AHEAD FOR PATERNAL DEATH

Less than a week before Bay’s eighteenth birthday, she & her dad were life guarding a summer kickoff party at a beachfront mansion when one of the glass panels on the side of the pool started to splinter

Both Bay & Brady tried to help party goers out of the pool as fast as possible, but a man who was considerably stronger than Bay pulled her in accidentally and she didn’t make it back out of the pool before the glass split and the current of the water starting pulling her towards it

Bay ended up with numerous shards of glass in the bottom half of her left leg

Brady successfully managed to grab his daughter before she felt over the roof’s edge but, by doing so, sealed his own fate

He passed away eight hours later.

Bay arrived at the hospital with hypothermia and a very damaged leg; although at first it seemed the doctors might be able save it, Bay received a transfemoral (i.e., above the knee) amputation due to an infection her body was unable to shake

She spent 20 days total in the hospital and a year afterwards in a combination of rehab and physical therapy

Bay was also named Sammy’s legal guardian, and she and Sammy were the sole beneficiaries in Brady’s will

Bay and Sammy sold the majority of what they inherited, including their beachfront apartment

Through Brady’s will, Bay and Sammy also learned that their father was originally from a small college town in Kansas, and that he was the owner of his family’s home there

When Bay was cleared by her physical therapist (shout-out to Tony!), she decided it was in their best interest to move away from California and head to West Ham

END OF POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING CONTENT FOR PATERNAL DEATH

The Delta siblings have been in West Ham for almost five years now

(Edited because I realized I never put this in) Five years is a long time and even though Bay really does miss her dad, she’s gotten used to her new normal and (for the most part) doesn’t dwell on her past

Sammy goes to school at WHU though it’s unclear what he’s going to school for (if someone ever picks him up as a connection that can totally be decided by them)

Bay got a job at the library soon after they moved and has been rocking that since. She’s taken a few classes at WHU but is taking her time with school, she’s not really worried about finishing on any kind of schedule

Bay has a three-year-old golden retriever service dog named Lucky

Sammy gave Lucky to Bay as her 21st birthday present; he wasn’t originally going to be a service dog but when the Delta siblings noticed some of his innate habits and reactions to Bay it just all made sense

When he’s off-duty, he is such a lovable goofball and he loves to be pet and cuddled and to play

When he’s on, he helps Bay deal with both physical and emotional hardships

Lucky really means the world to Bay, as does Sammy

Bay really went on the service trip for Sammy, because he wanted them to go together

It’s interesting because, in terms of post-service trip status, Bay’s life really hasn’t changed all that much?? She still has both her boys, though I think when Factions come into play, she and Sammy might split -- my guess would be that Sammy would go with the Greek Life kids

But, yeah! Bay’s really just taking things as they come, and she’s excited to be here, and I’m excited she’s here.

EDIT I KNEW I WAS FORGETTING SOMETHING -- PLEASE DON’T FUCKING CALL HER BAYLEY IF YOU DO THAT SHE WILL MOST DEFINITELY FLIP HER SHIT KAYCOOLBYE <3

Wanted Connections include: SAMMY (apparently i like making muses with sibling connections??), crushes/ex-crushes/hookups/ex-hookups (Bay is bisexual; she will love all the human beans if you let her), friends or not-so-friends, people she knows through her brother, someone who showed her around town when she and Sammy got to west ham for the first time five years ago? Or maybe a book buddy -- like, someone who was a frequent flier at the library & who she could’ve recommended books to?? Also someone who loves Bay’s dog at first sight but doesn’t really like Bay?? But suffers through seeing Bay anyway because they’re a package deal lmao. Or vice versa, gimme someone who doesn’t love dogs but warms up to Lucky the more time they spend with Bay. Also also definitely partners in mischief, particularly someone who’s gonna want to check out the amusement park because that’s right up Bay’s fucking ally. This is...a long list to start with, but let me know if you’re interested in any of them, or anything else!

[skarabrae-stone]

Get Killed, Walk It Off

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR INFINITY WAR.

If there's one thing Steve has learned, it's that when someone falls off a cliff, you should ALWAYS look for them. With that in mind, he persuades Peter Quill and the Guardians to search for Gamora, just in case.

Read it on tumblr here

“Do you really think it’s worth it?” Quill asks hoarsely. His eyes are red and puffy, and there are tear tracks in the grime on his cheeks. “I mean, she’s…” His voice breaks, and he rubs his face, roughly, like he can’t be bothered to find gentleness even in that simple gesture.

Steve steals a glance at Bucky, who is standing next to him, alive, and tries to shut out all the ways he’s seen him die—or almost die—in the past seventy-odd years. He hasn’t let go of his hand since the dead—disappeared?—were brought back two hours ago. “In my experience, when someone—falls—it’s better to make sure,” he says gently. “At the very least, we should find out what happened.”

Quill nods, clearly trying to pull himself together. “Okay,” he says, as if convincing himself. “Okay.”

Footsteps echo down the hall, and T’Challa appears, looking as tired and careworn as everyone else. One of the Dora Milaje hovers at his elbow, and it feels wrong not to see Okoye there.

“Captain Rogers,” he says formally, then, coming closer, “Steve.”

“King T’Challa.” They don’t really need the formalities, not after the past two years, but Steve feels the need to cling to something, to anchor himself with the certainty that T’Challa is still the king, still in some semblance of control. He so dearly wants, for once in his life, not to be the person in command. “It’s good to see you—” alive. “Well.”

“I am alive,” says T’Challa, with his usual straightforwardness. “I am told you are going on another mission.”

Steve nods. “We’re hoping to retrieve Gamora. Unless you need me here…?”

“No,” T’Challa says. “Strange bought us enough time—we have a few days. But I have something for you.”

He unclips a pouch from his belt, and hands it to Steve. A glowing purple flower is nested inside.

Steve stares at it, then at T’Challa. “Is this…”

“The heart-shaped herb,” he confirms. “It has many healing properties, and under the right circumstances… it may bring a person back from the brink of death.” His eyes take a faraway look. “I have… experienced this myself. If the lady has any spark of life within her—she may yet be saved.”

Quill reaches out, as if to touch the plant, then pulls his hand away. “Why are—why are you giving me—us—this?”

T’Challa gives him a small, grim smile. “Because I can. Because it is the right thing to do.” He pauses, then adds in a more business-like tone, “There is a ritual you must perform, if the herb is to do its work. Nakia will go with you, to show you what to do. She will meet you at your ship.”

Steve nods, then lets go Bucky’s hand to give the Wakandan salute. “Wakanda Forever,” he says in Xhosa, then adds in English. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome,” T’Challa replies, returning the salute. “All of you.” Then he steps forward, and pulls Steve, then Bucky, into a hug.

“Take care. Don’t get killed.”

Steve casts an accusing look at Bucky, who just sighs.

“I’ll do my best.”

 Nakia is waiting for them at the Milano, along with the remaining Guardians and, to Steve’s surprise, Thor.

“Are all of you coming with us?” Steve asks.

“Of course,” says Drax.

Mantis and Rocket just nod, and Groot manages a soft, “I am Groot.”

“She was a brave lady,” says Thor. “I would see her brought home, and honored.”

He doesn’t say that he expects them to bring home a corpse for burial, but Steve knows he’s thinking it. Of all of them, Thor has perhaps lost the most; it’s understandable if he’s run out of optimism for the time being.

“Let’s go, then,” he says, and gestures to Quill. “Captain?”

Quill, for some reason, winces at the title, but leads the way onto the ship.

Steve and Bucky board last, squeezing into a seat that’s not really meant for two people. Steve doesn’t care; right now, he craves physical contact, needing to reassure himself that Bucky’s really here, that he’s not going to disappear again. Bucky must feel the same, because he curls half into Steve’s lap, resting his forehead against Steve’s collarbone.

Steve wraps his arms around him, not caring what anyone else might think of the sight. “Hey, Buck,” he whispers.

“Hey” Bucky mumbles.

Thor slumps down next to them, staring at the floor like he could burn a hole through it. In the right mood, he probably could.

“Hey,” says Steve, when the other man hasn’t said anything—or moved—for several minutes. “You okay?”

It’s a stupid question, but Thor doesn’t call him out on it. “Fine,” he says, and resumes floor-gazing.

Bucky raises his head slightly. “Steve,” he says, “You idiot. Tell him to come here.” While Steve and Thor both stare at him, he flaps his arm in invitation. “Everything sucks, we’re all sad,” he says. “So come here.”

Thor moves closer, hesitantly, like he’s not really sure, and Bucky uses his metal hand to pull him the rest of the way over.

Thor and Bucky are both heavy, and Thor is significantly bigger than Steve, but Steve doesn’t complain about the two of them huddling half-on, half-off his lap. They’ve all been through the wringer in the past few days, and he needs the comfort as much as they do. Thor has his arm around Bucky’s waist, and Bucky’s head is tucked into Steve’s shoulder, and Steve buries his face in Bucky’s hair and just breathes.

At some point, there is a general shifting, and Steve ends up with Nakia tucked in between Thor and Bucky, and Drax leaning against Steve’s legs with Mantis’s head in his lap. He’s not even sure how they’re all managing to fit, but doesn’t question it. In the cockpit, Rocket and Quill handle the controls, with Groot sitting on the floor between them.

The journey takes two hours, and none of them speak.

 They don’t talk on the hike to the foot of the cliff, either. Steve can’t think of anything worthwhile to say. Instead, he just tightens his grip on Bucky’s hand—whether to give or receive comfort, he doesn’t know—and tries hard not to think about what’s waiting for them. He doesn’t know if he can forgive himself if he’s gotten Quill’s hopes up, only to have them dashed again—but he knows he couldn’t forgive himself if they just left Gamora there, either. If all they can do is bring back her body, then he will at least make sure they do that.

As they near the cliffs, Bucky nudges him and points to a dark shape in the snow. “I see her.”

“Quill,” says Steve, and the others stop, looking startled at the sound of his voice.

Quill doesn’t say anything, just looks at him, misery written in every line of his face.

“Let me and Bucky take a look. If it’s… bad… you don’t want to see.”

“I’ve seen bodies before, Rogers,” says Quill, but he sounds tired rather than argumentative.

Steve shakes his head. “I know. But some things, no one should have to see.”

When nobody else says anything, he starts forward again, Bucky keeping pace easily. Nakia catches up on his other side, her face grim. The three of them have no emotional connection to Gamora, but that doesn’t make this easy.

She’s lying in a heap among the rocks and snow, limbs bent at unnatural angles. Blood matts her hair and soaks her clothes, and Steve has to take a moment before he kneels down and places a finger under her jaw.

There’s no pulse—but it’s cold here, there’s a possibility…

“If she’s enhanced, the cold would just put her in stasis,” Bucky says quietly. “The question is whether she died on impact.”

“We need to turn her over,” says Nakia. “I can do a scan, see if there’s—if there’s any hope.”

“Let’s put a stretcher down first,” Steve says. “We’ll need it either way.”

He doesn’t say If she has spine injuries, we could make it worse. He doesn’t say, we are arranging a corpse for burial.

They can observe all the same things he does.

Bucky pulls the stretcher from his pack, unfolding it and lining it up with Gamora’s body. Together, the three of them carefully roll her over, onto the stretcher. She is stiff, and her jaw looks to be broken, her ribs caved in and her eyes open and sightless. Steve remembers teenage boys bleeding out in the trenches, and his hands do not shake.

“I’m starting the scan,” says Nakia, and waves a small, handheld device over the body. Blue light bathes the wounds and twisted limbs, and Steve reaches blindly for Bucky’s hand again. He doesn’t see how there can be any hope.

The scanner beeps, and Nakia makes a surprised sound, rocking back on her heels. “She’s alive,” she says disbelievingly. “I picked up—the brain is still sending signals. They're very weak, but she is alive..”

“Can she— is it survivable? If we… if we thaw her out…”

“She would die instantly,” Nakia says. “Luckily, the ritual does not require her to be taken out of stasis.”

Bucky inhales sharply at the word, but his voice is steady. “How do you know this?”

“I have done this before.” Nakia meets his eyes. “You and T’Challa have something in common, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Bucky,” he corrects, apparently automatically. “It’s… safe, then? To tell Quill?”

“I don’t know if we can save her,” Nakia answers. “But we will try. I think… yes. Tell them to come here.”

Bucky gives Steve’s shoulder a quick squeeze, and heads back to the others.

Nakia turns to Steve. “We need to align the broken limbs, so they don’t heal incorrectly.”

He nods, face grim. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

 At Nakia’s instruction, they cover Gamora’s body with snow, leaving only her head uncovered. Nakia teaches them the chant, going slowly until everyone can pronounce it properly.

“I don’t know if Bast will hear us here,” she tells them. “We are a long way from the home of the Black Panther. But I am one of her children, and Gamora has fought bravely in defense of the Earth, so there is hope.”

“She will hear,” says Thor, speaking for the first time since the Milano. “She is bound to you. She will hear.”

“Then let’s start,” she says, and begins to chant, pounding the flower to liquid with a mortar and pestle.

The others pick it up, too, Drax and Thor’s voices rich and booming, Rocket a thready rasp, Mantis high-pitched and uncertain. Groot, unable to pronounce the words, beats a rhythm with his hands, and Bucky’s rich baritone harmonizes effortlessly with the rest. Steve himself has never been much good at singing, but he can follow the beat of Groot’s—for lack of a better word—drumming, and he lets himself sink into the flow of the chant, pronouncing the unfamiliar words with all the energy and conviction he can muster.

Nakia pours the glowing liquid into Gamora’s open mouth and covers her face with snow.

The chant continues.

They wait.

 Darkness. Nothing but darkness, endless; no sound, no sensation. She floats, endlessly, without thinking, or attempting to do anything. Time does not pass in the boundless dark, but at some point, it occurs to her to wonder where she is, what she is doing here. Surely she has not always been here? There is an image of herself, as a something—legs and arms and a head—something other than a small spark of consciousness in the empty void. She explores this thought, curiously, dispassionately, but cannot quite make sense of it.

There is only nothingness here, and yet she is something—why is she here? Is she the only one?

A light appears, like a pinprick in a black sheet, far away or perhaps just very small. It is golden and beautiful, and illuminates absolutely nothing in the surrounding darkness.

Eventually, or perhaps immediately, she decides to approach it.

In moving, she discovers that she has arms and legs, and that she can direct them easily. There is no surface on which to walk; she walks anyway.

The light does not get bigger, or smaller; it simply exists, and she walks toward it, and the darkness remains unchanging around her. She can feel her body, the beat of her heart and expansion of her lungs, but she cannot see it. She has a feeling this should bother her, but it doesn’t.

She walks.

The light remains the same.

She keeps walking, and nothing changes, nothing moves, until it does, and the light is all around her, and she is standing amid thigh-high grass on an endless plain. A black sky arches above her, full of stars, but the grassland is illuminated as though by a sun. She is warm, and she can feel wind on her face, in her hair.

It occurs to her that this is the first time she has felt these things.

Her body is green, clothed in some kind of armor, and it feels… comfortable, lived-in, and she feels a profound sense of relief. Whatever else is going on, this is her body, and it feels familiar.

The grass rustles, parting, and a large black cat appears, coming to a halt in front of her. Its head is nearly level with her stomach.

She feels, somehow, that it is rude to be taller than this creature, so she kneels instead, and waits to see what happens next.

“You are far from home, child,” says the cat, and its voice is that of a woman’s.

“I don’t know where I am,” she admits.

“You are wandering.” The cat tilts her head, assessing her. “Gamora, they call you. They have called me, begging to return you to them. Yet you are not one of my children.”

Gamora feels tears sting her eyes, though she is not sure why. “I don’t think I belong to anyone.”

“And yet they call to you. Sister. Mother. Friend… Beloved.”

“Groot,” she says, the name heavy with familiarity on her tongue. “Peter.”

“They call to you,” the cat repeats. “Will you go to them?”

“I… don’t know.” She rubs her hands over her eyes. “I don’t know how.”

“You are nearly dead, Gamora,” says the cat. Her voice is gentle, soothing, as if she is telling a story to a child. “The last spark of life in you is fading. If you ask, I will take you, for I have been summoned, and no other god has claimed you.”

“And… the alternative?”

“I can send you back.” The cat sits, tail curling neatly around her feet. “Make no mistake, it will be no easy road. You will return to pain, and suffering. You may yet lose everything you’ve fought for.”

She considers this, remembering, now, Groot’s wide-eyed smile and Rocket singing while he tinkers with an engine; Drax shaking with laughter over some stupid joke, and Mantis clasping her hands together when she talks, and Nebula’s concentration when she fights. She remembers Peter’s arm around her waist, the warmth of his mouth on hers.

It’s not a choice, not really; this is her family, and she will always choose them.

“I want to go back to them,” she says quietly. “I want to live.”

 There’s a stifled cry, and Gamora’s body jerks once, twice, then goes still.

Quill flings himself to his knees, brushing the snow off Gamora’s face with quick, frantic strokes, and Gamora’s eyes flutter open.

“Gamora?” he whispers.

“Pete—Peter,” she mumbles, and her lids droop shut again, her body going limp.

Quill looks at Nakia, his eyes wide with terror. “Is she—will she be alright?”

Nakia consults the scanner. “There is still significant damage,” she says. “We need to get her to Shuri as soon as possible. But… yes. The herb has done its work. She will survive.”

Drax bursts into loud, raucous laughter, Mantis starts crying, and Rocket swears at the top of his lungs. Groot shouts, “I am GROOT!” over and over, while Quill just stands there with a look of shock on his face.

Steve himself feels giddy with relief, and he grabs Bucky and kisses him on the mouth before he can think better of it. He pulls back a moment later, grinning sheepishly, and Bucky smiles back.

“Hey,” he says over the commotion. “Let’s get her out of here. Thor, Drax… c’mon.”

Thor and Drax take the front of the stretcher, Steve and Bucky the back, and the rest crowd around them, still reeling with the day’s events.

“Thank you,” Quill tells Nakia fervently. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

She smiles at him. “You’re welcome. But remember, this isn’t over. She has a long way to go before she recovers.”

“I know. I know, but… thank you. I thought…” He doesn’t finish, just hurries his step a little to keep pace with the stretcher.

 Steve and Bucky visit them that night, once things are more settled. Gamora is awake, propped up on pillows and hooked up to an IV, and looks, all things considered, far better than could be expected. The other Guardians have taken over the recovery room, sitting around her bed and (in Groot’s case) sprawled on the floor. Steve can’t blame them; he still hasn’t let Bucky out of his sight for more than five minutes.

It’s only as Mantis lets them into the room that he realizes Gamora will have no idea who they are.

“Um, hi,” he says awkwardly. “I’m… uh, Steve Rogers, and this is Bucky Barnes, and we, uh… we just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“Peter told me what you did,” she says in a raspy voice. “Thank you.”

“I couldn’t not,” he says honestly.

Bucky makes a disparaging noise and brushes past him to her bedside. “How are you feeling?” he asks. “’Cause I’ve tried the falling-off-of-cliffs thing, and let me tell you, it is definitely on my top ten of least favorite things to do.”

She cracks a smile at that. “I’m not dead, and I’m on a lot of painkillers, so. Not as bad as I could be.”

“I see you’ve got both your arms,” he notes. “So you’ve already done a better job of it than I did.”

“Why, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Steve can’t help but smile at the exchange, at Bucky’s courage in exposing his own painful past to help someone else. Then again, he wouldn’t have expected anything less.

“It’s late,” he says. “We’ll let you get some rest. I’m glad to see you’re… alright.”

“For a given definition of the word.” Her gaze slides from him to Bucky, and back again. “Really, thank you.”

“Of course,” says Steve, and Bucky follows him out.

In the hallway outside, he takes a deep breath, leaning his head against the cool stone wall.

Bucky frowns at him in concern. “You okay there, Steve?”

“I… yeah, I just…” He rubs his face, tired beyond belief. “When you fell, I—I didn’t check. I didn’t make sure. I guess I… I guess this feels a little bit like… payback, maybe. Fate. I don’t know.”

“Hey,” says Bucky softly. “Hey, look at me.”

Steve does, meeting those clear blue eyes, and finds nothing but love there.

“You did good, Stevie,” he murmurs. “You did good.”

Steve nods, unable to speak around the lump in his throat. He brushes a hand through Bucky’s dark hair, still matted with sweat and grime and who knows what else, anchoring himself in his presence. “Take me back to our room?” he asks quietly.

Bucky kisses his forehead, then his lips, and wraps his arm around his waist. “Yeah, baby. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

[stargleeksil-blog]

Criminal Minds S07E03 “Dorado Falls” review

Episode 03 – Dorado Falls

Hey y’all!

So this episode’s name is too vague for me to make speculations about what might happen ... hoping for something witty and awesome.

Let’s see what happens.

And she’s officially back :)

“Hey, good morning.”

Okay, now I want Prentiss as my BFF. Seriously. Free coffee in the morning before work? Perfection.

“Oh, look at you spoiling me. Thank you.”

“Where’s yours?”

“Oh, I quit caffeine. Trying to relax more.”

“Well, don’t relax too much. You got ten hours of takedown and arrest procedure training to rectify.”

“Since when?”

“Since the hearing.”

“Am I the only one?”

“Prentiss, you’ve been away.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I can’t complain.”

“Well, especially not to your trainer.”

“Oh! You’re doing it?”

“Don’t get too excited. I’m about to put you through the wringer.”

“You can believe that.”

Oh my goodness, Prentiss’s look of excitement and then confusion is killing me.

Though I’m totally with her on that one. Why is Derek so excited on putting her through the wringer?

“Workplace massacre this morning at Synalock Incorporated. That’s in Charlottesville, which his practically in our backyard.”

“That’s a high body count.”

“Yeah, eight victims in total. All employees, including the CEO.”

Damn.

”Five shot, three were stabbed to death.”

“A gun and a knife. That’s highly unusual.”

“It could be two killers.”

“That would be the first time for a workplace killing.”

“Their business in Internet security for corporations. They didn’t have video surveillance?”

“They just moved into a new building. They didn’t have time to set up their system yet.”

“How is it no one saw anything?”

“The killer was prepared. Highly organized. This was premeditated.”

“He kept his emotions contained.”

“Pretty hard to do for the typical workplace killer who’s mentally ill or outraged about some perceived injustice.”

“The high body count indicates a hell of a lot of rage.”

“One employee, John Owen, was MIA. Local PD haven’t been able to locate him yet.”

Oops.

“Any unhappy clients?”

“Or a domestic situation among the employees?”

“Don’t know, but your friendly neighborhood genius girl will find out.”

“Bottom line is a mass killing is a classic show of force. It’s a way to become known. Which is why suicide, often by cop, is usually part of the plan.”

“So where’s the unsub?”

“He has a reason to stay hidden. He’s not finished yet.”

Well, fuck.

Franklin D. Roosevelt: “Men are not prisoners of fate, but prisoners of their own minds.”

“Absolutely. These are Agents Rossi and Jareau and Dr. Reid.”

I love his cutesy little wave.

“Of course. As soon as we make our assessment.”

Someone needs to put a plug in that whole media coverage before the cops arrive thing.

“So what do we know about the missing employee so far?”

“You said the CEO’s office was ransacked.”

“JJ.”

Let’s go investigate.

“The position of the body suggests he was one of the last ones killed.”

“He tried to escape and almost made it to the exit.”

“Jane Burney and Vinia Dev were here. Jane tried to run, Vinia didn’t.”

How does he know that? Because he’s the most genius genius to ever genius my genius.

...

And, you know, maybe he’s good at his job ... maybe.

“She’s half under her desk, which means she tried to hide and the unsub found her.”

“So these three were stabbed and the rest were shot to death.”

“Yes, but the bloody footprints all seem to come from the same pair of shoes.”

“Given the evidence, if there were a second killer, he’d be hard-pressed to get away without leaving tracks.”

“If there was only one unsub, he used his gun first, emptied his magazine, didn’t have a replacement, and resorted to using his knife.”

“He’d have to be physically fit or at least intimidating enough to subdue so many people.”

“If this were highly premeditated, he would have brought enough ammunition to kill everyone.”

“Unless he had a single target.”

“He killed the rest of them because they were witnesses.”

“We need to figure out who his first victim was.”

“These are contracts Synalock had. What was the unsub looking for?”

“Maybe he was a client searching for his own contract to hide any connection to Synalock after the murders.”

“Ah, everything’s digital these days, though. The hard copy’s just a backup.”

Oh my cute fossil, Rossi.

“So the unsub’s looking for an object, an old record, something not on a computer.”

“Huh. Rossi, check this out.”

“So, uh, Werner was worried enough about his safety to be armed.”

“And he didn’t have time to go for his gun or didn’t perceive the threat to be immediate.”

“Or keeping a gun around was out of force of habit.”

“He was a veteran.”

“A naval officer by the looks of it.”

“A decorated one at that.”

“He was awarded the Navy Cross in 2000.”

“Something else used to be here.”

“Another picture frame.”

Ruh-roh.

“Blood splatter overlay patterns indicate victim number three was over here.”

“Victim number two right here.”

“And finally victim number one right here.”

“Adam Werner was killed first?”

“Looks that way.”

“Which means the unsub made it all the way in here without alarming anyone.”

“He wasn’t threatening.”

“That’s why Werner didn’t pull the gun we found in his office.”

“He could have been the missing employee.”

“He may have taken that photo form his office if he was in it.”

“Why would an employee be interested in Synalock’s contracts?”

“Maybe this is about one client.”

“He could be after specific company information.”

“He had another motive besides killing.”

“It was clean and fast.”

“He sliced through the left carotid and abdominal aorta, major arteries that would bleed out quickly.”

“They all took two .45s to the chest, except for Adam Warner. He took four body shots and one to the head, execution style.”

“Definite overkill.”

“Somebody was angry with the boss.”

“Somebody with hunting skills.”

“Or a law enforcement background?”

“Talk to me, little genie.”

“Well, since you know how to rub my lamp, your wish is my command.”

Facepalming, grinning and giggling all at the same time here.

“I checked the Synalock client list, and the Defence Intelligence Agency is new to them, so there really isn’t anything to report, and everyone else is crazy happy with their service.”

“No complaints logged in?”

“Zero. I’m talking every high-tech blog, every chat room, glowing accolades. No one had anything contrary to say about Synalock.”

“Any employees have a history of domestic disturbances or stalkers?”

“Not that I’d violate privacy laws to check, she says, but the answer is no.”

“So Synalock is clean.”

“As a whistle.”

“Which reminds me …”

“You know how to whistle, don’t you?”

“You just put your lips together and blow.’

Oh my goodness, I love this ridiculous goddess and hunky chocolate adonis so freaking much.

“I love it when you talk old movies. Later, baby girl.”

“With all the overkill on Werner, there’s got to be a personal connection.”

“We’ve located John Owen, the missing employee. He’s been at a Doctor Who convention in San Diego since Saturday. It was a scheduled vacation.”

“Lucky guy.”

“I’ll say. That’s supposed to be an awesome convention.”

Dead here. Because I know I will never find a man as perfect as Spencer in real life.

“So if it wasn’t someone connected to the workplace, who is it?”

“You know, given the precision of the kills, it could be someone with a military background.”

“Or a professional hired by a business competitor.”

“A hit man would just kill Werner. Killing the entire office seems unprofessional.”

“Werner was a Navy veteran. He had DIA contracts. He had close ties to the military. It could be someone from his past harboring an old grudge.”

“Trooper, issue a Be on The Lookout to law enforcement for a physically fit male in his 30s to 40s, possibly a veteran. He appears nonthreatening and blends in easily. He’s armed and extremely dangerous. He most likely will kill again, either himself or others, very soon.”

You know, as serious as this is, the whole “Luke, I’m your father” thing is just too much for me and I cannot control my giggles.

“Are we sure the unsub is their son?”

“Luke Dolan called Synalock early this morning. Garcia confirmed it.”

“Know many 60-year-olds with a boombox?”

Not anymore. Which is sad.

“Trying to mask the sound of gunshots?”

“Could be. Or he was torturing them with sound.”

That metal music was definitely torture, bro.

“Why were they bound and gagged in the closet? Why not just kill them right away?”

“Maybe he was trying to get information from them.”

“About what?”

“Go ahead, Garcia, you’re on speaker.”

“Okay, Luke Dolan was in the same Navy unit as our CEO Adam Werner. That would be the 212th. They were both communication clerks at Camp Patriot in Kuwait. I’m sending all this information to your emails now.”

“Any other family?”

“He has a wife, Jenna. They’ve been separated for years. She lives in Bethesda with her eight-year-old daughter.”

“We need to bring her in for protective custody and to interview her. Send local PD and have our nearest unit meet them.”

“Done and done.”

Duh.

“Okay, it looks like he served thirteen years, honorable discharge in 2005. And now a VP of a biotech company. He was never a Synalock employee.”

“So what happened to this guy?”

“He was separated from his wife about a year ago, but that’s a bit far back to be a trigger.”

“Well, he’s on a rampage of some kind. What if mentally he was reliving a combat situation?”

“It could be post-traumatic stress. Everybody could look like an enemy.”

“Prentiss, this was a close-knit family.”

“Look at them.”

“They couldn’t have been more proud of their son.”

“How bad would his disorder have to be to make him kill his own parents?”

“Post-traumatic stress disorder rarely turns people into killers, but soldiers with PTSD have been known to strangle their wives in bed while having flashbacks or nightmares, believing they’re on the battlefield.”

“In 2005, an Iraqi war vet assaulted two people in Las Vegas, believing them to be enemy combatants.”

“So Dolan’s having a sustained flashback.”

“Pathological disassociation is one of the markers of complex PTSD, although Dolan has been stateside for six years. An escalation of the symptoms is possible, but it would be rare for them to appear out of nowhere.”

“Well, he seems to have made a successful transition to civilian life.”

“Well, at least on paper it does.”

“We should find out if he’s had any symptoms since he left the navy. It could have been the catalyst for the separation.”

“I’ll have Garcia check his records.”

“Hotch, Dolan’s been going through this.”

“Look, old mementos and journals from his days in the service.”

“He didn’t come here just to kill his parents. He came to get something.”

“He’s on some sort of mission.”

“The car’s washed, spotless inside, there’s no paint separation or rust.”

“This accident was recent.”

“I agree.”

“The Navy’s in his blood. he would never let that go without getting it fixed immediately.”

“It might have triggered his condition.”

“I’ll have Garcia run the plates, check for any recent accidents.”

“So, Dolan left his sedan and didn’t take the parents’ car.”

“He was smart enough to know it’d be tracked.”

“He’s either on foot or he’s stolen another vehicle.”

“If he’s capable of doing this, he’s rational and clear-headed enough to evade his perceived enemies.”

“So despite any mental incapacity, he’s still performing at a high level.”

“Just got word the local PD’s at the wife and daughter’s house.”

“Dolan’s unpredictable when he’s on a rampage. We need to go wide. We need to get the profile to the press.”

“Luke Dolan is a Navy veteran we believe is suffering from PTSD.”

“A recent trauma may have triggered this. He is experiencing pathological disassociation and may believe he’s in a combat situation.”

“What this means is, to him, everyone is a potential enemy. Do not underestimate him. Despite his mental state, he has extreme survival skills.”

“Right now, we believe he’s within a 250-mile radius of Roanoke. He is armed and extremely dangerous.”

“It is important that you do not approach him. He believes that he is on a mission, and if threatened, he will kill. So if you see him, stay away and notify the authorities.”

I’ll tell you whatever you want, gorgeous.

“One thing’s been bothering me is the first victim, Adam Warner, was given the Navy Cross in 2000.”

“We weren’t at war.”

“Exactly.”

“You have to show extreme sacrifice, risk life and limb to win the second-highest medal of valor.”

“So what did he do during peacetime to deserve it?”

“So, Garcia’s discovered part of Dolan’s military records were encrypted.”

“I just got the complete file to the Pentagon. He wasn’t a clerk. He was a Navy Seal.”

“Let me guess. Adam Werner was, too.”

“Yeah. Werner was the seal team leader, Dolan was his number two. Their unit was part of JSOC. They were involved in twenty highly classified missions.”

“Which missions were in 2000?”

“Uh, only one. Operation Dorado Falls.”

“See what you can find about it.”

“Will do.”

Good.

“That changes the profile.”

“Definitely.”

“How so?”

“Navy Seals are screened carefully for vulnerability to PTSD. They’re resistant to it.”

“So why would a trained Navy Seal kill his commanding officer and his own parents?”

“I don’t know, but it’s gonna be a lot harder to find him. Very few people on this planet are capable of stopping him.”

“Luke Dolan just evaded a roadblock near his wife’s house. They searched the surrounding area. There’s no sign of him.”

Well, this just turned from crap tp shit.

“Did you notice any recent changes in Luke’s behavior?”

“Did he ever mention Dorado Falls?”

“A mission he was on.”

“Is that why you two separated?”

“You weren’t a priority to him?”

“He had an exit strategy.”

Oh that poor woman. Her husband had an exit strategy from life and she took it personally.

“Okay, so it turns out 6:20 Friday night, Dolan got in a car accident in Bethesda.”

“That must have been after he dropped off his daughter.”

“He suffered minor injuries, he refused medical treatment.”

“Well, his wife said he was fine when he left her.”

“What was his mental state after the accident?”

“Normal. Field sobriety test came up negative.”

“That wouldn’t rule out drug use.”

Well, crap.

“I’d consider schizophrenia, except he’s the wrong age for the first psychotic break. It could be an aneurysm or a brain tumor.”

“Well, one thing’s for sure. He’s having a mental breakdown, but what are the specific features of it?”

“He’s not living in a past time and place, he’s living in the present, with the capacity and intelligence to evade law enforcement.”

Wow, that woman is rattled. Though any sane woman would if her husband was forced out of their house at gunpoint and she was left wondering what the fuck is going on.

“Mrs. Milgram …”

“Ma’am, listen to me. The FBI is in charge of looking for your husband, but I need you to try to remember what Luke Dolan said.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Just close your eyes.”

“Ma’am, I believe that you can.”

“Just listen to the sound of my voice and you’ll be fine.”

“Just try.”

“Close your eyes. There you go.”

“Just relax and breathe. Very good.”

“Now, what were you doing before he broke into your house?”

“Does he think your husband did something to them?”

“Does he mention Dorado Falls?”

Yup.

“All of the Milgrams’ cars are still here, so he must have taken the General in whatever vehicle he came in.”

“He talked about gaslighting. He thinks someone’s trying to purposely distort his reality.”

“He said his parents had been replaced.”

“He sounds delusional.”

“You know, he might have Capgras syndrome.”

Huh?

“It’s a delusional disorder in which one believes that their friends and loved ones had been replaced by impostors.”

“Sort of like Invasion of the Body Snatchers.”

“It typically involves only one sense, such as sight.”

“Basically, the neural connection between the visual cortex and the emotional center of the brain becomes severed, so that looking at a loved one doesn’t elicit the same emotional response one would expect.”

“So you think they’re an imposter.”

“And the interesting thing is that the auditory connection remains intact, so that if they were to hear a loved one speak and not see them, they’d think that they were real.”

“What causes this syndrome?”

“It’s unknown in 60% of the cases, but the rest have an organic cause, such as a tumor or head trauma.”

“He was in a car accident Friday.”

“People with delusional disorders don’t become killers, though.”

“True, but Dolan’s background as a Navy Seal, his knowledge of secret missions, plus Capgras syndrome, could result in extreme paranoia.”

“It’s the perfect storm.”

“Is there a cure for this?”

Nope. Shit.

“So this guy’s stuck with it.”

“He’s not killing for the thrill of it, he does it because he believes he has no other choice.”

“He murdered his best friend and his parents because he believed they were imposters.”

“So if he were to see his wife and daughter, the results could be deadly.”

“Dolan kidnapped the General and didn’t kill his wife because he had never met them before.”

“There may be another reason. He wants contact.”

“Our primary goal right now is the safe recovery of the General.”

“We could. But your help would speed things up.”

“You’re smart enough to see the upside, I’m sure.”

“You help and it goes well, you get your ticket punched.”

“You don’t and it goes south, well, the weather’s not too bad outside the beltway.”

“You know why Dolan’s so worried about this mission?”

“Were there complications?”

Oh damn. She don’t mess around.

“We think his car accident triggered a delusional disorder.”

“We need to know who Luke was close to.”

“Is this Lieutenant Luke Dolan?”

“Sergeant Major David Rossi, United States Marine Corps, retired.”

“I volunteered to call you.”

“I knew your dad, Luke. We were in boot camp together at Parris Island.”

“He’s a good man.”

“Still triangulating a location. Hold on.”

“Now, we can talk, but first I need to know that General Milgram is safe.”

“What’s up with the music?”

“I have no idea.”

You know, I am getting real tired of these writers stealing my thunder.

“Why did you kidnap the General?”

“Do you think we’re holding them?”

God. This guy is off his meds. And pretty bad.

“What have you got, Garcia?”

“Getting closer. We’re in the warehouse district. Stand by.”

“Got it! 3352 Spring Street.”

Go! Go! Go!

“Let’s go.”

“Release the General and then we can talk about your family. He’s innocent.”

“Luke, do you think your father would approve of what you’re doing?”

“Start what?”

What the fuck is this nutcase talking about?

“Why don’t you tell us your side of the story?”

“All right.”

“Dorado Falls was the name of a boat off the coast of Cape Town. It was owned by a South African diplomat who was selling nuclear secrets to Iran.”

“So what’s the big secret?”

“There isn’t one. Don’t get me wrong, lives were lost, but there’s been far worse missions.”

“His mind chose Dorado Falls to build a conspiracy around.”

Well, shit.

“This can’t be it.”

“Garcia, it’s an empty lot with a cell phone repeater. Give me a rundown on the buildings in the area and the years that they were built.”

“All over it like cat hair on a sofa.”

Someone zap her here so I can kiss her.

“Btw, I can usually locate a cell phone within three meters, but sometimes there are circumstance beyond my control, like physical barriers blocking a signal, not being in the satellite’s direct line of sight, which bounces the signal to a repeater.”

“Garcia, tell me you’ve got something.”

“Oh, sorry. Yes, I have something.”

Oh my God, she is the cutest thing ever.

“There is a hotel built in ’74 that is scheduled for demo, and there is a warehouse scheduled for loft conversion that was built in 1928.”

“All right, walls were thicker in the twenties.”

“What’s the address of the building?”

“More GPS signal interference.”

Come on, baby.

“Exact address is … 291 Hope Street.”

“291 Hope.”

“Intel failed to identify … two children aboard the boat.”

“You had to shoot those kids, didn’t you? They were witnesses. Just like everyone at Synalock.”

“Listen, Jenna and Ally are safe.”

“I’ll make you an offer. You let Milgram go and I’ll take his place.”

“But you need insurance. I get that. Let me take his place. Because I’m not just a guy behind a desk.”

“I was a Marine with boots on the ground, just like you.”

“I know what you’ve been through.”

“I want you to get your family back.”

“Where’s Hotch and Morgan?”

“The Spring Street address didn’t pan out. They’re searching the warehouse right now.”

“Luke, I need your exact address.”

“Clear.”

“We got the General. He’s still alive.”

Where the fuck is Dolan?

“Yeah, he used the radio to mask the sound of his movements.”

“We’re on the move.”

“This was all part of his plan to find out who was holding his wife and daughter.”

“But you never said you were FBI.”

“He saw the number I called from. He recognized the FBI prefix.”

“So, what, he’s on his way here to Quantico?”

“I know the head space he’s in. he feels alone right now. There’s no risk he won’t take.”

“As a Navy Seal, he did training here. He knows this place.”

Seal everything.

“An FBI police officer was just found shot to death in the academy parking structure.”

“He’s already here.”

Shit.

“Dolan’s photo’s already been sent on all internal servers.”

“He’s probably changed his appearance already.”

“And he’s got thirteen floors to hide on.”

Fuck.

“We should make a general PA announcement.”

Hey, I know that weirdo.

“No. He believes he’s on a rescue mission that he can pull off. As long as he thinks that, he’ll stay calm.”

“I’ve got hundreds of employees in here and you want me to do nothing?”

Seriously, dude?

“Garcia, I need you on the building’s operations computer.”

“Ready and able, sir.”

“Dolan’s got a police radio. I want all alerts sent through ha secure tactical channel.”

“We can’t take that risk. You’ll be safe in here.”

Good, keep them safe.

“He knows how to be invisible.”

“I got him. He used the dead officer’s ID to enter the seventh floor.”

“Seal if off. Nobody in or out.”

Oh boy.

“Navy Seals never start a mission without an exfiltration plan. Check the exterior and elevator shafts for riggings.’

“Turning exterior cameras now.”

“A member of the seal team said Dolan’s an expert in explosives, disabling and building them.”

“Also be on the lookout for explosives.”

Fuck.

Wack calling, let Rossi handle it.

“Hello.”

“Yes. I was hoping you’d call, Luke.”

“Where are you?”

Shit. He’s there with a fucking bomb and fucking shit I am not okay with this.

“Okay, okay. Easy, easy.”

“Oh, my God.”

“All right, Luke, you don’t want to be aiming that around.”

“Snipers have the building covered.”

“You’re in the crosshairs right now, I can guarantee that.”

“I’m the one you want. You can let my team go.”

“Start an evacuation.”

“Can we evacuate everyone in three minutes?”

“Prentiss, I need his wife in here.”

“No one is seeking revenge here. You’ve created this conspiracy in your own mind.”

“To protect them from you after you murdered your own parents.”

“Your real parents are dead.”

DUDE! What the fuck are you doing?!

“You want to know what’s really going on? You were in a car accident three nights ago and you suffered a head trauma.”

“You don’t believe that’s her?”

Shit.

“Jenna, can you talk to him about something personal, something that only the two of you would know about?”

“When you see your family, you think that they’re imposters, but it’s all caused by an illness.”

“You’re sick, Luke.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Luke, you have to close your eyes.”

“Because you need to know that your wife is real and your eyes will trick you.”

“Close your eyes.”

“First Jenna’s gonna cover up your eyes.”

Shit.

“No! No!”

“JJ, let me have him.”

“Get him out of here!”

“Get him out of here!”

Ah crap, it all went to shit.

Orson Welles: “Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for a moment that we’re not alone.”

“No, I didn’t mandate it.”

Wait. So Hotch didn’t mandate the training? Oh boy, my puppy really stepped in it this time.

“Hey.”

“Uh, Hotch didn’t order my takedown recertification.”

Busted.

“Do you want to tell me what’s really going on?”

“I just thought we both could use a refresher.”

“You mean you thought I could use it.”

“You’re nervous about me being back.”

“Emily …”

“What … you think I’m gonna mess up the team’s rhythm?”

“I get it. But just come out and say it.”

“Morgan.”

“Okay, fine.”

“Yea, I am nervous.”

“But not about you.”

“About me.”

“Emily, I thought I lost you, and I blamed myself.”

“Now, you’re back, but I don’t want to be worried about losing you again and get distracted.”

“So you wanted some reassurance.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Morgan, I cannot imagine what you went through.”

“It was seven months of hell.”

“How can I make it up to you? I will do whatever it takes.”

“Just give me ten hours of training.”

“Okay, you got it.”

“Shooting range on Sundays.”

“I’m there.”

“And my morning coffee and a neck rub every day.”

“Oh, buddy, you are really pushing it.”

Morgan, you little shit!

Whew. So aside from the craziness of this entire episode, because - hot damn! - this episode was so cute! Morgan dealing with his mixed feelings about Prentiss coming back and being worried he might lose her again, it’s just the most adorable subplot there is.

Also, I just found out that Reid likes to go to Doctor Who conventions, and it just made my day.

Also, I love how they address PTSD and general trauma-coping in military veterans. It’s seriously refreshing how they keep addressing all issues in human psyche around the vast country of the USA. Amazing.

And so, on this ... positive? ... note, I thank you all for keeping on following this stuff.

I’ll see you all next time and - in the meantime, enjoy the rest of the photos of Shemar Moore I’ve been hoarding.

[lokgifsandmusings]

Definitive Ranking of Book 4 Episodes, #1/13

1. 4x02 Korra Alone

Non-linear all around perfect episode that explores Korra’s struggles with PTSD and I can’t even be funny about this. Oh and Toph.

This is a post that’s taken me some time to write, because addressing the perfection of this particular episode is a daunting task. I mean it. It’s not just the best episode of Book 4, it’s the best episode of the franchise. The most daring as well.

For a little bit of context, there’s an incredibly popular episode from Avatar: the Last Airbender called “Zuko Alone.” It picks up after he leaves Iroh in “Avatar Day,” because his uncle kind of pointed out that the hunt for the Avatar might be a tad on the futile side. His brain can’t reconcile this, so the episode instead shows him trying to blindly stick to this task, while feeling as though he has no place in the world, and being rejected by anyone who finds out who he really is. He struggles with inner darkness, inner pain, and the whole time his story is punctuated by flashbacks of his relationship to his sister, his mother’s disappearance, and his father’s ascension to Fire Lord.

I’m not sure I’d call it the high point of ATLA (“Crossroads of Destiny” gets that honor), but it is kind of everything with regards to Zuko, easily one of the strongest characters Bryke have ever written. Also it did a great job of not endorsing his self-destructive tendencies or making excuses for him.

“Korra Alone” was announced (and screened) at the 2014 New York Comic Con, and when Bryke first said the episode title, the audience screamed. Smugly, from the comfort of my couch, I shook my head at the livestream and declared that there was no way this could measure up.

Well, color me dead wrong. I forgot that it was starring Korra, and she not only measures up, she creates a new goddamned reality the world didn’t know it needed.

Just thinking about the episode for first-time viewers, it does exactly what it needs to do. It’s impactful coming off the [mostly] Korra-less “After All These Years” to not just see her, but feel what she’s going through and feel that isolation, even when she’s surrounded by her parents and other loved ones. Though it somewhat takes on the travel+flashbacks format of “Zuko Alone,” even Korra’s present-day plot isn’t strictly sequential—most notably with us learning the real reason she entered the earthbending cage-match, with the flashes moving faster to get her to the swamp. It gives the entire episode a very ungrounded feel, which for the viewer does two things:

You desperately begin to want Korra to connect and be stabilized, because there is an inherent discomfort from the loose form for your brain (not a bad thing...an effective discomfort)

It REALLY gives the impression that time is passing in this episode

The second point is especially striking when you consider the scope. We’ve got in one “plotline” (for lack of a better term): Korra underground fighting, following a ‘dog’, and getting sucked into the swamp where she meets Toph. This alone covers significant ground. Then we have her flashbacks of leaving Republic City, not improving in her home and Senna begging her to go to Katara, Katara’s first healing session, the letters from friends that paint time as passing, Katara’s ‘wiggle your toe’ session, Tenzin visiting, Korra’s narrated letter to Asami while she meditates and trains, her leaving the SWT, her failing to apprehend the thieves, turning from Yue Bay, cutting her hair and donning new clothes, the tree of time scene, then traversing every possible landscape.

HOW WAS THIS ALL IN A 22 MINUTE EPISODE?

Yeah. This is three years, no question about it. It’s visually stunning, but there’s also this extreme sense of loss that the viewer is clued into, and the aimlessness that is heavily felt. Korra’s physical appearance changing was the external manifestation of this, and the symbolism surrounding it was as clear as when Iroh and Zuko did the same nearly 8 years prior. Toph popping out at the end is the one bit of relief, and it *really* shines, especially given her voice actor being perfect and sounding instantly familiar to us (did Philece Sampler just watch hours and hours of Jessie Flower footage or something??).

I can’t see this not landing for someone the first time through, to be perfectly honest. It sets up Korra’s journey for the season, and with her still out of touch from Raava and still away from friends and family, there’s a lot that needs resolving, and that the audience should definitely want to see resolved.

Placing “Korra Alone” in the context of the entire season, and the series at that (or even the franchise) is a different ballgame. Not a worse one, but it certainly means that you can consider this in Korra’s healing arc as a whole.

I’ll fully admit I was not 100% on-board with Dark!Korra being the representation for PTSD at first, even though this is, at the end of the day, a Y7 show that needs to break down these concepts to children. However, it worked within this episode, and given how the whole thing was resolved through mindful meditation (plus how the little bit of metal Korra extracted didn’t end up being a cure-all), I think it justified itself in a general sense.

In the case of “Korra Alone” alone (lol), it worked in a sort of 3rd person omniscient way, to quickly convey Korra reliving this moment and having a ton of anxiety each time it occurred. What had the potential for being a bit of a cheap visual metaphor instead mostly landed, giving us a kind of visceral understanding of that anxiety (and as someone who’s had to explain what that feels like to people who’ve never experienced it, that’s really no easy task).

When it comes to Korra’s healing arc as a whole, I’m going to have to be an asshole and tell you that Gretchen ( @theonewithpurplehair ) and I are planning on writing something about it when she gets back from South Africa. It will be lengthy and emotional and talk about THEMES and how important this is. We do that.

But even in advance of it, I think there’s a point to be made about Bryke choosing to have a healing arc in the first place. They didn’t have to, you know. And for some, especially in light of the indelicately worded “I needed to suffer” quote from the final episode, having two white men use a bisexual indigenous woman to explore a story about recovering from extensive trauma is uncomfortable, which is absolutely a valid tension.

However, something I think @glamourweaver highlighted best back when fandom dialogue was more...heightened, was that like it or not, Korra’s gone through major traumas throughout the show. In Book 1, she lost most of her bending and was so affected there was not-subtle-at-all suicide imagery included. Then Aang’s magic touch fixed her depression! Yay!

In Book 2, she had Raava ripped out of her and lost her (admittedly newfound) connection to her past lives, calling into question her very identity as the Avatar. The whole astral-projection thing she did? That was just Korra’s strength of soul, separate from anything to do with reincarnated powers. So yeah, reconnecting with Raava and becoming the first Avatar of a new spiritual age would totally be healing, but the idea that there’s no trauma she’d need to explore? Book 3 is near and dear to me, but in many ways it almost feels like a new show, complete with not bothering to tap into implications of the first 2 seasons. Whoops!

It’s yeah, not great how much she was put through the wringer when you get down to it. But Bryke are conscientious and tend to fix their mistakes. In a lot of ways, Korra being given PTSD—like...realistic PTSD—and an ensuing healing arc in Book 4 was the direct answer to everything previously glossed over.

The result? To that, I’ll just go ahead and quote @beccatoria’s essay (seriously, read it), because it lays out the meaning so well:

“This brings us to the final part of my argument: forming new meanings. The therapies I have mentioned so far focus on the physiological issues. The brain blows a fuse and can't process what it has experienced, so if you fix the fuse, you fix the processing problem. This still leaves a person who has been through an extremely traumatic event. PTSD almost always presents alongside issues such as depression and can lead to feelings of isolation and guilt. Individuals may either feel emotionally disconnected or emotionally out of control and have often internalised damaging messages as a result of their trauma. There is often a focus on creating new meanings as these memories are re-examined. We see this in Korra's evolving attitude to her own experiences.

Zaheer asserts that her power is limitless. She should never have been able to survive the poison. He offers her an opportunity to recontextualise her survival as evidence of her enormous resilience and strength rather than as a failure because she did not survive unscathed. While she is recovering, Katara tells her about Aang and how he chose to find meaning in his suffering. “What will I find?” Korra wonders. “Won't it be interesting to find out?” Katara asks. The answer comes in her final conversation with Tenzin. Korra chooses to form new meanings for her experiences, and chooses to find a message of compassion and empathy.”

Yes, the landing was not 100% perfect, but the recontextualization of her suffering and subsequent empowerment through that was clear. Korra ended the series hopeful about the future, and more at peace than we had seen her—certainly more at peace than that flailing teenager who was more willing to demand a duel with Amon than admit fear. She had grown and found ways to reconcile what happened into how she wanted to lead her life.

Do you mind if I get personal for three seconds? I have general anxiety, as well as a very specific (and admittedly mild) trauma associated with driving, and though I’ll never equate my experience to Korra’s brutalization (seriously, mine just involves a hangover, a large cup of coffee, pizza, and a bridge), there is something about that terror of being out-of-control I identify with, and it features so strongly in Korra’s arc. I also know what it’s like to want to will something away and fight against everything that’s happening. Why can’t my stupid brain just STOP?

But the thing is, like beccatoria said, it’s about contextualizing it. Anxiety never goes away, and it certainly can’t be willed out of the forefront. But you can choose to look at things with a new point of view. To be able to sit with a feeling and recognize what it is, even if it’s massively uncomfortable or puts your body in flight-or-fright mode. Personally, I’ve come to look at my anxiety/intrusive thoughts as a very badly behaved cat. The cat is weirdly trying to protect me, and truly thinks this is what will help keep me safe, but well...it’s an idiot:

Still, it’s *my* idiot, damnit, and now when I drive, I can just picture her in the passenger seat chewing on the emergency brake. She’s also the survival mechanism my brain came up with to shield me from more chaotic forces in my life, and that’s kind of neato, when you get down to it.

*Kind of*, okay? (I still need to replace this chair, though Trystane Nymeros has done more damage to it with his many toes).

The point is, Korra’s story is powerful and salubrious because she just...goes through hell and back, she really does. But she not only finds meaning in it, she finds positivity and hope. She is at her MOST secure when she flings herself in front of that spirit gun, and then talks down the season antagonist with a few words. It’s uplifting, without pulling *any* punches on how ugly and terrifying and isolating PTSD can be.

There were punches thrown outside of “Korra Alone” too, but that was the episode that waded in most deeply, and somehow did it in an appropriate fashion for a Y7 show. I can’t sing its praises enough, truly.

Having laid this all out, it seems almost trite to mention the Korrasami aspects of the episode. It didn’t escape the fandom that Korra telling Tonraq and Senna she wanted to go back home read like a coming out conversation, and the “Dear Asami” sequence is without question the most stunning of the episode. Though @queertoonqueertoons lays out why there’s other reasons for that as well. But like, what can be said? Korra lets herself be vulnerable around Asami in a way she won’t with others, and Asami asks for very little in return. It was a nice, continuing thread, but it never became a focal point of the episode, or the series, so shame on me if I buck the trend.

I can give overall thoughts on Book 4 when I pull together the final post for this ranking, but like Korra, I think I’m ending on a pensive and positive note. “Korra Alone” will do that for you, even though it may be the darkest episode of the franchise. What a masterpiece.

#13: 4x08 “Remembrances”

#12: 4x11 “Kuvira’s Gambit”

#11: 4x09 “Beyond the Wilds”

#10: 4x07 “Reunion”

#9: 4x06 The “Battle of Zaofu”

#8. 4x12 “Day of Colossus”

#7 4x01 “After All These Years”

#6 4x03 “The Coronation”

#5 4x04 “The Calling”

#4 4x05 “Enemy at the Gates”

#3 4x10 “Operation Beifong”

#2 4x13 “The Last Stand”

Book 2 ranking/essays found here

[bemystucky]

AU!Robin Hood (Part V)

Prompt/Summary: This story is for @hunters-from-stark-tower’s movie!AU challenge. The story is set in the world of Robin Hood (Disney) but only loosely follows the plot. It is a modern-ish take. The reader will be a new character in the movie and not a spin-off of one of the characters.

Characters/Pairings: Clint Barton x f!Reader, Nat, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Steve, Tony, Nick Fury and Bruce.

Warnings: Swearing, Angst

Word Count: 996

Author’s Note: HEY LOOK AT ME CRANKING OUT A NEW PART! Hope you like it! This one is rather angsty. Not as much as I usually have when I don’t plan on having a good ending BUT I HOPE IT’S ANGSTY ENOUGH. 

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

Previous Part:

As (Y/N) tried to stand on her feet, a cry tore out of her body, as her legs buckled from beneath her. The adrenaline had receded and she could no longer ignore the immense pain that she was suffering from. Coupled with the excessive blood loss and the incident that she had not fully recovered from last night, (Y/N) passed out on the garden floor.

--

When (Y/N) woke up, they were back at headquarters, their shack in the forest. Her side had been properly cleaned and dressed. Groaning, she opened her eyes and attempted to sit up.

“Guys, she’s awake,” commented Sam. “How you feeling heart?” Ah, heart. Sam’s nickname for (Y/N) was one that got on Clint’s nerves. But he never commented on it as it appeared to him as though no one else cared.

“Like I got stabbed. What happened?” An endearing smile graced Sam’s face.

“When you passed out, Clint carried you and we ran back. We encountered some more guards along the way and had to shake them loose but we got back.”

“So. They’re here still then.” A frown marred the pretty features of (Y/N)’s face. She didn’t trust Wanda and Maria, no matter who they were or what their status was. She needed time to figure out the two women, but at the moment, she was too mentally and physically exhausted. “Why?”

A deep sigh escaped Clint’s body, as though he was frustrated with (Y/N).

“What? It’s a valid question! I want to know why they’re still here! Who the hell are they? What is their motive? What do they want from us? How do we know they aren’t here to spy for Pierce and his goons? We know nothing about them and you just expect me to accept them without good reason?”

“I already explained –”

“You didn’t explain crap Clint! And if you did, you certainly did not think to fill me in. You know, even though I was stabbed trying to get you out of whatever situation you got yourself into again! I don’t understand why none of you will fill me in on anything despite knowing that I am fully –” A coughing fit racked her body then, stopping her mid-sentence. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, and came away wet with blood.

“Shit, heart are you ok?” Sam quickly manoeuvered himself to squat next to (Y/N), who was doubled over on the couch. “Clint stop harping on her! You don’t even know what she went through when you two were down there getting tortured. You of all people know the strength of your connection with her! And Nat’s connection with her is strong as well! Coupled together, the pain of both of your injuries caused her to black out during an argument with Steve when she was trying to get him to rescue you! Why are you always so rude to her? You’re so inconsiderate Clint! You never consider the extent of the pain that she goes through daily because of her connections with people!”

(Y/N) placed a hand on his arm, effectively getting him to turn his attention to her immediately. “Stop giving him shit. It’s not worth wasting your breath over daily, Sam.”

Sam huffed loudly, guffawing in a sarcastic manner. “Even now! After all that you put her through, she’s still protecting you!”

“You’re just jealous that our bond is stronger than yours!”

“Jealousy has nothing to do with this! She’s like my baby sister and all you’ve done is put her through the wringer! It’s a wonder that she still feels like she has to come to your rescue time and time again!”

“Well she doesn’t! I don’t need her!” A loud gasp quieted the whole room. “Shit, that’s not – that’s not what I meant to -.”

“Save it Clint,” (Y/N) ran out of the room, a hand covering her quivering lip, another clutching her wounded side, tears streaming down her face. She was hurt. Terribly so. She didn’t think that he would be so heartless. Maybe he knew that she liked him and this was his way of letting her know that her feelings were not reciprocated. Or maybe, well she didn’t know but no reason she came up with could ease the pain in her heart. Sobs wracked her body as she pushed her body as much as she dared, running to the outskirts of town, where the forest began to clear. She had a bad feeling about doing so, but her intense emotions blocked out everything else.

Back at the Shack

“Sam, you gotta tell her I didn’t mean it. I –, it just slipped out. I was angry! I just –, oh God, she’s going to hate me forever!” Clint buried his face in his hands. He didn’t understand the burst of anger. Well, he understood it but he didn’t understand why his brain let his mouth spew garbage that he didn’t mean.

His feelings were exactly the opposite of what his mouth had said. He needed her more than he needed air. Not that anyone else knew besides Nat, who had, time and time again, encouraged him to confess to (Y/N) about his feelings. And yet, he never did. And now, he might have entirely botched any potential for a romantic relationship between them.

Just thinking about that made Clint simultaneously have a migraine and a strong urge to cry.

Just then, Maria came rushing into the room from the kitchen, where they had been resting while the team deliberated. Her hectic state alarmed everyone in the room, a feeling of unease oozed like black slime into the hearts of everybody.

“What? What’s wrong Maria? Where’s the forest fire?” Steve questioned.

“It’s (Y/N), she’s in trouble.” This caused Clint to shoot to his feet.

“How do you know? Where is she?”

“It’s Maid Wanda. They have similar abilities. My lady can’t feel connections but is able to sense flashes of trouble. That’s how she knew to meet you and Natasha when she did. That’s how she knew to lead you to the garden path instead of the kitchen path which would have been faster. But (Y/N) is in danger. That’s all I know. My lady passed out before she could relay more information. And if her past incidents are anything like this, it’ll be another hour before she awakes.”

Thoughts?

Tagging (let me know if you want to be untagged): @pleasecallmecaptain @crownie-sr @writing-soldiers @hotmessofafangirl @wowhowawkwardisthat @sebstan01 @writingruna @you-and-bucky @sinbad1229 @maybe-mikala @theartofbeingmilla @smol-flower-kiddo @marvelfanfichq @mylittlefandomfanfictions @tempestinatea-cup​ @harrypotter2611 ​@shamvictoria11​ @emmaplum​ @annadier ​@23aprliee​ @imagine-assembling-the-avengers

[badonkodank]

A Simple Word So Heavy

ao3

Chapter Six: I Continue to Face Them

A/N: Okay, this is the last chapter in this little adventure. Thanks to everyone who followed along and encouraged me, it really means a lot! You guys keep me going. ;) OH! The some of you might have noticed (or you may have not) that each chapter is a line from the song "I Have Made Mistakes by the Oh Hellos"- give it a listen if you want more feels!

When they say it then, they're content and know it's time to stop keeping count. There will be so many more instances in which it's said in the future, so there's no need to cling to the moments. They both know the other feels the same way.

Weirdmageddon had come and gone, and with it, had left the anger, the resentment, the petty grudges. All of it seemed to have been sucked into the rift along with the horrors that had never belonged in their world. And as if making up for him missing out on the the twisted, perplexing events of Weirdmageddon, Ford's emotional state had been thrown through the wringer and spit back out within the space of a few hours.

He'd dreamed of the moment Bill Cipher was vanquished so many times in his life, imagined the relief that would wash over him as he and millions across the multiverse rejoiced, for the triangle's reign of terror had ended. After his meeting with Jheselbraum, it had become a cemented into his mind that not only would it come to pass, but it would be him to do it.

Never once had he considered an alternative to the prophecy. Never had he wondered if Cipher's defeat would come by someone else. Never had he considered that the circumstances resulting in the defeat of the demon would be devastating.

Because it hasn't been he to save the universe, but Stanley.

Stanley had saved everyone.

And he wasn't able to remember.

No longer had there been a Stanley around to remember, just an empty shell, blinking slowly as if dazed, the look on his face not unlike that of a child discovering the world for the first time.

Ford hadn't been able to completely identify the feeling tightening his chest, but he hadn't bothered to truly make an effort. He knew enough to be aware that the his inability to breath had nothing to do with a physical problem. He wanted to be numb, to push everything he felt into a box for later review, but the plethora of emotions rushing through him wouldn't allow him to do even that. Instead he was left with an ache in his bones that resulted from far more than just residual soreness of the battle, which had ended minutes ago. He wanted to ignore that, too, just like he wanted to ignore pressure behind his eyes as he knelt down and bit back the urge to scream at the man in his arms to just hug him back already!

He didn't allow himself to break down just then. As he stepped away from the man on the ground, he forced himself to get pulled together. He knew he had to keep a hold of himself if he ever planned to get through the rest of the day. And he had to get through the day, if not for any other reason than the fact that he needed to be there for the kids. Dipper and Mabel, who were so broken up over the events that they remained huddled together, staring at him with their grief on display for all to see. It broke Ford's heart even more.

Yet he knew he couldn't allow them to become swallowed by their pain either; if they did, they might never recover- especially Mabel. She and Stanley had had such a special bond, that he had known after seeing them interact for only a few minutes. If she was allowed to wallow in her sadness, she could be hard pressed to ever come back to them.

Perhaps the same thoughts had gone through her twin's mind, because Dipper grabbed his sister's hand and dragged her to her feet to envelope her in a tight hug that seemed to calm her. Ford hated the way his heart clenched painfully at the sight, less for the reason that it was gut wrenching to see the two hurting so badly, and more because he wished more than anything that he had his sibling to help him get through this.

He cast his attention back to Stanley and saw he'd gotten to his feet and looked around with eyes still so curiously wide. He hadn't bothered to right the fez, which still sat crooked atop his head, and Ford swallowed the lump in his throat. It wasn't right. Nothing about it was.

Stanley was a hero, and he didn't even look like himself.

Ford wanted to grab the man by his shoulders and shake him, scream at him to cut it out and complain that he still hadn't gotten a thank you, that the sweater he wore wasn't comfortable when compared to the crisp dress shirt he was used to. He knew it would do nothing, because there was no Stanley in there to remember. He of all people knew how well the memory gun worked, and how useless it was to try and bring lost memories back. Still, Ford couldn't stand seeing his brother not looking like his brother.

Soos helped him assist Stan in changing back into his suit, and the entire time Ford felt like he should've said something to the handyman, something to comfort him. He'd seen how much the man cared for his brother, and he hadn't missed the affectionate looks Stanley had shot him when he thought nobody was looking. The two clearly had some form of bond between them that went beyond just a boss and employee, and Ford wanted to say something to him, though he couldn't think of what.

After that, Ford handed Stanley off to the kids. They needed him, even if it wasn't him. He could see it in their eyes, their body language, that they still didn't understand, and Ford was reminded of just how young they were. It was easy to forget that they were only children on the cusp of teenhood. He watched as the children and Soos led the man who was and yet wasn't theirs with varying expressions of worry and sadness. They would refuse to believe Stanley was gone until they'd exhausted all their options, Ford knew, because that was who they were. They were the kids who had endured the horrors of Weirdmageddon and come out possibly stronger because of it; the kids who, instead of running away from the strangeness of Gravity Falls, tried to understand and help it. They were amazing kids.

He wished they wouldn't try. He already struggled with figuring out how to deal with the overwhelming guilt of taking away their uncle, and the sorrow of losing his brother, he had no idea how he would be able to handle the grief stricken children when they finally came to terms with the fact that their uncle's mind was gone, and with it, him.

When Mabel brought out the scrapbook, Ford almost left the room. He didn't think he'd be able to bear to watch, knowing how devastated she would be once she allowed herself to give up when she realized Stanley wasn't going to remember anything. He'd almost allowed his own selfishness to pull him away from the kids instead of help them, even when he knew it was a lost cause- he could see that much in the confusion on his twin's face as Mabel went on about the macaroni interpretations of her emotions.

Yet he could also see that, while he couldn't remember, he wanted to. Oh, if Mabel and Dipper's desperate attempts to get his memory jogged was heartbreaking, then Stanley's expression of genuine bewilderment as he squinted, trying to remember something he wasn't even aware he should remember, was just devastating.

But then Waddles, that swine that Ford had been highly irritated to have had roaming the halls of his house when he'd first been introduced by Mabel, tipped the balance and it was Ford's turn to be confused. It was the best kind of confusion, certainly, because soon as Stanley had said that pig's name, Ford felt his heart slam hard against his ribcage and he was quick to join Dipper, Mabel and Soos, crowding the man that wasn't yet his brother, hoping beyond hope that maybe... just maybe he would be.

He had no idea how it was possible for Stanley's memory to be returning, but he refused to ponder it's possibilities until he was sure the moment hadn't been a fluke. Yes, he would hope for the best, but he wouldn't allow himself to get caught up in the excitement. Not like Dipper and Mabel had.

And it had all gotten simultaneously better and worse after that. Stanley had started to remember: The Shack, the kids…

Pretty much everything except Ford.

That much had been evident in the first hour they'd all talked. Ford hadn't been able to stop smiling as his brother remembered, but as Stanley had interacted with the three younger people of the group, Ford had noticed he kept shooting glances his way. Each time his brows had furrowed and after the fourth or fifth time Ford understood why, and the realization that his brother still couldn't figure out who he was had slammed into him like Xanthar had way back when.

Ford had to swallow several times to force the lump of dread in his throat back down where it belonged. He'd known, logically, that it made sense for Stanley to remember Dipper and Mabel when they were, after all, the ones in his most recent memory. But when he began recalling first hiring Soos, and being there for the twins' birth -memories which were decidedly not recent- Ford began to worry.

No, not worry- that wasn't the right word. Worry was when someone tripped and you thought they might be hurt. Worry was when you couldn't remember whether or not you'd left the stove on. It was empty wallets and crumbling dimensions and a crying child. What Ford felt then, was dread. It was the same feeling he got when Bill showed up in one of his dreams, and when he found himself somewhere with bounty hunters on his trail, and most recently, when Bill had gone after the kids. It was cold and stiff and no matter what you did, it lingered, always in the back of your mind, always whispering "what if's" in your ear.

And for Ford, it wouldn't stop one traitorous "what if" in particular:

What if he doesn't ever remember you?

Ford had done his best to ignore that. That voice that shouldn't have been there anymore, still preying on his deepest fears despite no longer existing. It would be fine. Stanley would remember him. He knew he would. He just hadn't yet because the right memories hadn't been brought up.

Stanley would remember eventually. He'd have to be patient, Ford knew, and he had been… for quite awhile, actually. He'd known how important it was that he let Dipper and Mabel re-bond with Stan, so he hadn't interrupted. In fact, he'd been enjoying listening to all the stories they told about their summer adventures, recounted all the times his brother had punched a supernatural creature in the face. However, evening had come and the sun began to set, casting the room into softer light and his patience out the door. It had gotten to be too much, the waiting, the wondering, the watching Stanley remember everyone but him.

Mabe had mentioned being hungry a bit earlier, but hadn't gotten up to remedy that, and Ford decided it was as good a chance as any to remove them from his brother's side for a few minutes. It wasn't that he didn't wanted the kids around when Stanley remembered him, but it also… was. There'd been things in his and his brother's past that were meant to be private- in fact, pretty much the whole of their past had been that way; only meant for them. He loved them, but when it came to Stanley remembering him, he didn't want them around.

Ford glanced over at Soos, clearing his throat softly to get his attention. Soos stood up from where he'd been knelt next to Stan and smiled at him. Ford tried to return the sentiment but failed when he replied immediately to the unasked question.

"Do you think you could take the kids to get something to eat?"

Soos had met the his gaze steadily a moment, silent as he considered the request and Ford nearly sagged with relief when the handyman nodded a second later. Ford had had to hold in a thank you when he smiled, asking the kids if they wanted to head out and eat.

Mabel seemed about to protest, clearly not wanting to be parted from Stanley, but Dipper stopped her by grabbing her hand and giving it a light squeeze. He was much less subtle in his movements when he motioned over his shoulder and Ford waved awkwardly when Mabel whipped her head in his direction, her eyes growing wide as she realized what Soos and her brother were getting at.

She was quick to get up after that, dragging Dipper with her and asking Stanley if he'd be hungry for anything. Of course he said no and told them to go have fun, which had been the end of that, and Ford once again found himself impressed by how perceptive his niblings were. He was also thankful that they'd been so willing to give up time with their favored uncle in order to give him a moment alone. He made a mental note to give them hugs specifically for that later.

It hadn't been easy after that. The two of them stood awkwardly, unsure of where to start or what to do with themselves. Ford did his best to remain relaxed, to act as if everything was fine and he hadn't gone with Mabel and Dipper solely because he hadn't been hungry either. It was difficult to manage when he wanted nothing more than to pace in an attempt to calm his nerves.

After some silence, Stanley sat back down in his chair, petting Waddles' head when the pig snuffled at him. When he looked at him again, recognition continued to elude his gaze, and Ford sighed heavily while leaning against the TV. He had no clue where to start and was one of the most frustrating things.

It didn't help that the dread that hadn't ceased eating at him began making him wonder whether or not he deserved the confusion in his brother's eyes. After all, he'd been the one to erase his memories in the first place, so maybe it was been fair that he hadn't been remembered. Still, the thought of possibly being forever removed from Stanley's memory made Ford want to curl in on himself and disappear.

Of course, being full of surprises, Stanley crossed his arms and fixed him with a hard stare before breaking the silence.

"Alright, so why are you important?"

"What?" Ford blinked, surprised by the familiar blunt manner in which the question was delivered.

"Look, I kinda got the gist of how this remembering thing works. If your important, I've got ya somewhere in here," he tapped the side of his head, "and ya keep looking at me like I should've figured it out a long time ago. So help me out here."

"Oh." Ford thought he'd been doing a good job of hiding his distress, but apparently it would seem he'd failed miserably if someone with no knowledge of his tells could figure him out. Still, he had no idea of how he was supposed to tell Stanley. He was stuck between being blunt, taking the route of, "well we shared a womb for nine months, so yeah I'd say I'm pretty important", and the "I don't know if I'm important to you, but you're my brother, so you're at the very least, important to me", approach.

He had the perfect opportunity to have Stan remember him without disturbance, and he couldn't figure out how he was supposed to do it. So, of course his first response was to panic and clamp down. "I, uh, it doesn't… it doesn't matter."

The look Stanley gave him made Ford think of their mother when one of them had tried lying to her and she'd struggled with deciding whether she wanted to smack them or laugh at them. It had been ages since he'd seen anywhere wear the expression, and seeing it on his brother made him both suddenly nostalgic and extremely wary.

"Oh no ya don't," he argued, getting up from his seat and pointing angrily at him. "Just cuz ya don't wanna put the effort into helping me don't mean ya get to say it's nothing!"

"It's not that I don't want to put in the effort," Ford protested, "it's that I don't know where to start."

"Oh, gee, I have no idea what that's like." The bitter snap made Ford pause and curse himself. He'd been tactless with his words there. Of course Stan would be sensitive about not remembering things; Ford could only imagine how frustrating it must have been for him, to know he knew something, and yet not know a thing at all.

Still, he shook his head, deny his brother answers. He didn't want to confuse Stanley more by trying to give him their life's story. After all, that's where the kids and Soos had started with him: Where they'd first met him in their memories. How was he supposed to find a good place to begin? And dammit why hadn't he thought about all of this before he'd sent the kids away?

Of course, the motion's true meaning was lost on Stanley, so he tightened his hands into fists and glared at him. "Knock it off! Just because I don't remember doesn't mean I'm an idiot, Ford, so just tell me!"

It took a moment longer than it should have for him to process the words, but when he did, Ford stood shocked, not daring to move, or even breathe as he watched Stanley. The way his expression went suddenly from irritated to slack and wide-eyed nearly broken Ford, he himself daring to believe then that he'd heard correctly. However, just as soon as the slack expression had come, it disappeared once more, replace by a downturned mouth and scrunched brows.

Ford held his breath completely, watching as Stan's mouth began moving ever-so-slightly mouthing his name, until, after several seconds of tense silence, the confusion on his face disappeared.

When he finally looked up at him again, Ford didn't miss the tears threatening to spill over in his eyes. And when Stanley smiled tentatively as cleared his throat, Ford resisted the urge to wring his hands together. For his part, Stan seemed unsure of what to say, if the way he continually opened his mouth only to close it immediately after was any indicator.

"So, um," he started slowly, "doesn't this mean thanks are in order again?"

Ford couldn't have stopped the the sob from tearing out of his throat if he'd wanted to as he all but threw himself at his brother, burying his face into Stanley's shoulder, the small, "Whoa!" he got in response making his chuckle thickly.

"Thank you," he whispered hoarsely into his twin's jacket. He whispered it over and over until it seemed to have lost its meaning and it was hard to believe he'd ever had a hard time saying the words in the first place.

He couldn't bring himself to loosen the white knuckled death grip he had on his brother, even when he heard the kids return. Stanley didn't try to pry him off either, though -in fact he held him just as tight- and that made Ford's tears flow harder.

Forty years. Forty years Stanley had been waiting for this. When he'd hugged him in that clearing, the first time he'd dared embrace his sibling since returning home, and had been met with nothing but limp confusion, Ford had been so sure that wish of his brother's would never be fulfilled.

He'd been so sure that his mind would be forever lost, and he'd felt all the more devastated with the knowledge. Because despite every chance he'd been given to hug his brother before and during Weirdmageddon, he hadn't. That left the embrace hurting him more than the torture Bill wrought for the sole reason that… it was the first hug he'd given his brother in forty years and Stanley hadn't even known who he was, or how important the moment had been. Hell, he hadn't even returned the gesture. And Ford had thought that would be it.

Now, knowing it wasn't, that he could hug Stanley and that he knew who he was and how much it meant, it was enough to overwhelm Ford. He didn't even think he would've step away from Stanley if he could right then, afraid he'd collapse if he did.

In the space of only a few hours, he'd been abused and terrified, he'd watched his some of his family nearly be destroyed by the demon he'd invited into the world, and then he'd witnessed his twin taking the fall for his own mistakes. He'd proceeded to destroy said twin's mind, and then he'd been crushed by the guilt of doing so. He'd suffered in a prison of his own mind, even for a short time, worrying about the kids, dreading what would become of his brother's memories of him, and what would become of his brother in general. Then, through a simple argument that particular pain and fear disappeared

All of that, in the space of a few hours. He didn't know how to process any of it other than to cling to his brother for dear life and comfort himself with the reminder that Stanley had called him Ford. Stanley remembered. Stanley was back, and he was okay. And it was fascinating, how arguments seemed to be what surrounded all the pivotal moments in their lives. In a convoluted sort of way, how Stan remembered him made perfect sense.

How he was remembering continued to remain a mystery to him, but Ford still wasn't interested in figuring it out just yet. For the time being, it didn't matter. Stanley was okay, and he was back, and that was all that mattered. And Stanley was there and hugging him back, and he didn't hate him.

And then it struck Ford, with that thought, that Stanley didn't remember everything. It made him aware his sibling probably didn't even know he should have reason to be hating him, which left Ford's relief slowly melting into apprehension, as he realized the next step in getting all of Stanley's memories back would be the same as everyone else's.

Just like Mabel and Dipper had begun going over the parts of their lives with their uncle in them, he'd have to do the same until his brother was able to piece things together himself. He'd have to remind him of all the fights, all the hurt and heartbreak… and the reason he'd lost his memories to begin with. He didn't want to. Not yet, anyway. He wouldn't be selfish and never tell Stanley, but it could wait, if only for the night. Just a little while longer.

Ford started when he was pulling from his thoughts by two pairs of arms wrapping around his and Stanley's waists, squeezing tightly. Ah, right, the kids. Ford sniffled, quietly as he could manage, and ruffled Dipper's hair before releasing Stanley in order to do the same to Mabel. He didn't miss the way his brother scrubbed roughly at his eyes when they broke apart, and Ford sent him a shaky smile, which was returned without hesitation.

Dipper and Mabel took the opportunity their distance provided and tackled Stanley back onto the sofa chair. Ford chuckled softly and joined them, perching on the skull-table and doing his best to ignore the way both kids looked between him and his brother slowly with knowing expressions. The smiles that broke out on either of their faces had Ford shaking his head and Stanley grunting and changing the subject before they had the chance to ask any questions.

"So, where'd Soos go?"

"Oh, he said he was going to help Wendy 'clean up some of the chaos'," Dipper said, shrugging.

"He'll be back later," Mabel finished, tucking herself into Stanley's side and releasing a content little sigh.

They all remained like that for some time, until the sun had set and Mabel had dozed off, drooling a bit onto Stanley's arm. Dipper was debating whether or not to wake her up and get her to bed, and Stan, of course, was being no help in deciding. Watching the three of them interact, it made Ford smile fondly. They may have had a long way to go in helping Stanley remember everything, but if every day went as well as today, Ford had high hopes for the future.

When Stanley came back into the living room carrying a fresh bowl of popcorn with Mabel at his side telling him about the progression of TV quality, and one of his favorite shows, "Ducktective", the last thing he'd expected to find was his brother with a big device in his arms, Dipper trailing behind carrying a circular case. He had no idea what this would be about -but then, that was normal now, wasn't it?- but it looked nerdy, and he frowned.

"Aw, c'mon, I'm not even back into the game a week and you're gonna bore me?"

Ford rolled his eyes at him as he set the device, which looked a whole lot like a projector, if he remembered correctly, onto the skull beside the chair. Dipper carefully set the box onto the floor beside it and then stood off to the side, watching them. Mabel went over to her brother's side, to no doubt ask what was going on. Stan wanted to know too, since Ford seemed pretty serious about whatever he was doing as he set up some more things that confirmed for him that what his brother had was, in fact, a projector. Good, he enjoyed getting things right.

Though, what he planned on showing them, Stan had no clue. He had no plans to be quiet about his curiosity, though. "Hey- ho, what's all this for?"

"I found these upstairs," Ford explained, "It's from when we were kids. I thought you might like to see them."

"Oh." Stan blinked in surprise. He still couldn't remember everything about their history together, but for the past two nights Ford had explained as much as he could think to, telling him why he'd lost his memories and apologizing until he wasn't doing much more than stuttering over the same remorse filled words repeatedly.

He'd been doing really good with remembering things, that was what everyone had assured him of when he'd gotten frustrated, but the sharper details of his childhood with Ford were still a bit of a blur to him. He'd tried and tried to clear them on his own, but the moments seemed determined to remain hidden from him. So if Ford seriously had film, he definitely wanted to watch.

He refused to get emotional over the fact that his brother had kept such delicate, precious things all these years, though. He hadn't even known they'd existed, and from what he could recall, he'd been the one living in the Shack the longest. Or maybe he had known? Nah, if he had, the memory would've come back once he saw the projector.

From what he'd figured out on his own and what Ford had explained to him, his remembrance seemed to be triggered by familiar faces and images that were important to him. He was pretty sure if he was touched by the sentiment of the device now, it would qualify as "important" and have triggered any memories if he'd had them. Which left him wondering just what would be on the film reel. He also wondered how close his brother was to being done setting up, because he wanted to see them sooner rather than later.

They'd gotten a lot of his memory back during the day today alone, having gone all over town, reminding him of all his favorite places, introducing him to some people as they went. They'd gotten dinner at Greasy's Diner and Mabel had, after getting onto the topic of his cooking skills, helped him to remember his special brand of "Stan-cakes". With all of that finished, they were coming up on the end of the day and Stan was looking forward to it, because even if it meant staying up until he was beyond exhausted, it also meant going over his past with his brother, specifically.

He enjoyed the time spent together with Ford. The portal and Weirdmageddon had been some of the first memories involving him to come back, and so while at times it was distressing and confusing, putting the puzzle back together in order, he treasured every moment he had with his sibling. He knew just how important their time together was, and he was more than happy to occupy his brother's time.

Part of him had a hard time believing Ford cared enough to want him to remember everything so quickly, because according to more recent memories, Ford supposedly only cared about himself, but Stan did his best to shut that part of his brain up. It was true, he'd thought those things about his sibling at some point or another, but he didn't now. And maybe that was only because he didn't have all his memories of Ford. Either way, until he had all his memories back and could make an educated decision on how he felt, he'd continue to tell himself to be quiet. Ford cared about him, and whether or not Stan initially thought he did wasn't important.

Once he looked to have everything set up, Ford smiled widely and Stan snickered under his breath. He was acting like a kid on the first night of Hanukkah, practically bouncing from foot to foot, wringing his hands and motioning for him to sit, which made Stan all the more eager to see what was on the film.

"Well, we're set up, so… whenever you're ready…"

"Ha, yeah, alright." Stan punched his brother's shoulder as he took a seat.

Ford nodded, probably more to himself than anyone, and stood there a moment, staring at the wall before groaning softly and turning back to the projector. Stan bit his tongue to keep from laughing. It was funny when Ford was so focused on doing one thing that he forgot the main part. "One moment." He blushed and went to getting the reel into the projector.

Stan waited patiently, not saying a word, just listening to the rambling he always got from his brother; Ford tended to talk when he was nervous and doing work with his hands. Stan was pretty sure it had something to do with the fact that he was used to explaining what he did to everyone around him, since his mind moved twice as fast as theirs.

"I don't remember what's on this, precisely, but I know they're nice- all of them. I used to watch them before McGucket moved in to work on the Portal. I suppose you never heard about that though, so nevermind. Point being, I think you'll enjoy these. I just have to put this here and..."

Stan smirked in amusement at Ford when the man grinned as the reel clicked into place. He opened his mouth to cut his brother off before he could get going again, but stopped when he saw Dipper grab Mabel's hand, the two of them moving to retreat from the room.

"Oi, where you headed?"

The children startled and Dipped scratched the back of his neck while Mabel saved him by answering. "We're just gonna leave you guys alone now. Personal bizz an' all that. Yeahhh."

Before he could say anything in response to that, Mabel winked and took a turn dragging her sibling out of the room, Dipper uttering a short, "G'night." before disappearing from sight. Stan could hear them clambering up the stairs, whispering to each other softly enough that he couldn't catch what was being said. He only shook his head fondly at their antics. Those two really were the lights of his life most days, and it was times like these that that was brought to his attention.

He didn't know how he'd ever gone through life without them around, but he couldn't imagine never having met them now. He did know that once they went home, life would get pretty boring again. A final sharp click made Stan flinch and check on Ford, who'd completed hooking the film up, and he hummed under his breath. Actually, with him around, it might not be too boring at all...

It would take a period of adjustment to get used to someone other than the twins being around the Shack twenty-four-seven, but Stan would be more than happy to go through that period of time it if it meant Ford was the one whose company he would be getting used to. Stan was kind of thankful for these nightly memory joggings because those alone had allowed them to get used to each other faster than they might have and talk about things that had never been discussed in depth before then.

Stan wasn't exactly thrilled that he'd lost his entire life's story, even if it had been his idea to start with, but, shockingly enough to himself and probably everyone else, he was actually glad it had all worked out the way it had. Even if not remembering everything in one sitting grew progressively annoying, he and Ford had been able to just talk openly, about everything, and while he wasn't completely sure of where it was they stood exactly, he rested easy on the knowledge that Ford… probably wasn't going to kick him out of the Shack like he'd wanted to when he'd first been brought back.

Stan wasn't sure exactly what they'd do about their living arrangement, but if he'd taken anything from the way his brother had been treating him the past few days, it was that they would figure it out. He sure hoped that was what Ford was thinking anyway. He was a little afraid to ask. He'd do it later- probably after the kids left. Yeah. Probably… Maybe.

"Okay," Ford said, jarring Stan out of his thoughts, "Sorry about that. Just let me know when you're ready."

Stan couldn't help but laugh at his brother then. Ford was practically vibrating with… well, he wasn't sure if it was excitement or nerves, but either way he looked like Mabel after her tenth cup of Mabel Juice™ and it was pretty hilarious to see his brother's mannerisms parallel his bubbly great niece. Ford only watched him with a mixture of bewilderment and concern. "What?"

"Nothing," Stan chortled, getting a hold of himself once more and waving his brother's next question off, "No, I didn't remember anything new."

After a moment of scrutinizing him, Ford nodded and turned his attention back to the task at hand, satisfied with the answer. He flicked on the projector and settled into the collapsable chair beside the sofa, his designated spot for the routine. It took a few seconds for the reel to begin playing, but Stan kept his attention glued to the wall where the picture would be popping up. He had no idea what he was in store for, but was eager to see nonetheless, because if the moments had been worth filming and saving for so long, they had to be special, and there was no way he wanted to miss even half a second of that.

The two watched and talked for hours, chatting after each individual clip before continuing with the next captured moment. They kept to the cycle until the late hours of the night crept up on them and one or two clips were lift on the reel that they were too tired to watch.

Ford was the first to break, surprising both of them with a yawn big enough Stan briefly worried his jaw might've been dislocated. Of course, that had set off a chain event, causing him to yawn too and realize just how beat he was. Neither one of them made any move to get up, though, as that had become part of the routine too. They'd exhaust themselves reminiscing, and then they'd just go to sleep. It wasn't the best thing for their backs, but the two didn't much care. There was something comforting about being able to fall asleep right next to the other. Something familiar.

Stan's lip twitched into a smile when he pictured the bunkbeds littered with random toys and knick knacks from their youth. Yeah, those had been the days, when it had just been the two of them, full of their childlike spunk and irrational senses of optimism. They'd sure had some fun back in the day. The short clip of him chasing Ford around with a paintbrush on the beach came to mind and Stan smiled as he peaked an eye open to check on his brother. He'd already closed his eyes and leaned heavily against him, his hair tickling Stan's chin when he tilted his head down.

A fond and content noise made it out of his throat and Ford purred back in response. Stan closed his eyes and chuckled softly. That was one of the weirder noises he'd heard from his brother since he'd come out of the portal, but it was one he could at least get behind. After all, if that was one of the more subtle ways Ford expressed happiness, who was he to complain?

Stan contemplated taking his hand out of where it had settled in the popcorn bowl to ruffle his twin's hair like he'd have done when they were younger, but he didn't feel like mustering up the energy it would take to move. He was comfy and he didn't want to ruin that. Besides, his limbs felt heavy enough he wasn't sure he'd make it all the way up to where Ford's head was rested against his shoulder.

Instead, Stan settled for a soft mutter. He hadn't dared to say it since… had it been right after that DD and More D thing with Dipper? Yeah. He hadn't said it since then, too afraid he wouldn't get the response he wanted, or any response at all. This time, it came as easily as telling Wendy to get back to work, and Stan knew it would be well received.

"G'night, Ford."

He didn't look to see his brother's reaction- he didn't have to when he felt Ford's arm wrap loosely around his shoulders, giving him a tight squeeze. The affection in his brother's tone when he finally responded made Stan's smile solidify on his face to the point where he didn't think he'd be able to get it off.

For so long he'd been waiting to hear the words echoed back at him, and from the way Ford spoke, his own smile evident, it sounded like he had been too.

"Goodnight, Stanley."

But nothing is a waste, if you learn from it.

[mirrorofficialramblings]

Chapter 3

Arc 1 - Auspicious Calamity (part 3)

Word Count: Approx 3,600 words. 

PK - Summer, 114, 0000

   "Hey! Why are we going back to where I met you?" Slash called, chasing after the trotting she-wolf. Nibbling his tongue he looked up at the familiar scenery. The young trees full of late summer color, greens fading into the warm yellows and reds fall was known for. One day the forest would look beautiful, then bare as the trees slept. He began dragging his paws and his claws ticked and tapped against all of the pebbles they hit. 

   Willow glanced back and offered a smile, "Your first lesson," she said. Slash returned her a puzzled look and carried on after her, deciding not to think too much of her words. They were going to see the Sin Lion corpse, that's all he got from that. Maybe to study anatomy? To teach him their weak spot? His thoughts were broken by the mumbles of his mentor. "Honestly, I never thought that there'd be such an auspicious calamity." She chuckled coolly and turned to Slash. "Tell me, little one, how much do you already know about Sin Lions?" 

   "Umm. I know that Sin Lions are made from bad energy, like death and anger and jealousy." He paused and pulled back his lips. Then, words flowed. "Sin Lions are the physical form of all the world's sin. That's why they're named Sin Lions. Because they eat up our sins and use it to hurt us. They're kind of like the living form of the saying 'Your sins will catch up with you'. They're born in areas that suffer a lot of bad energy and are attracted to unhappy people." He spoke lightly, hoping not to disappoint her. Coming to a realization he stopped walking and slouched. "That's why I was attacked. It wasn't like I was mad at my brother, but..." 

   He heard the loud pattering of Willow's paws as she pranced in a circle. "Correct! Those are the basics, indeed," she chirped. "Wringer! When a Sin Lion dies, where do you think that negative energy goes? If it's enough to form a Sin Lion to begin with, does killing it really solve the problem?" 

   Slash was taken aback by the question. He stood there in silence trying to process it, then even longer he tried to think of an answer worth the effort. "They ... vanish?" he mumbled, uncertain. The question perplexed him no matter how he thought of it. Does the issue of sins really remain even after the death of the Sin Lion? 

   Willow shook her head. "As soon as a Sin Lion is born, their energy is too great. The land cannot banish the dark power regardless of its form so it must be stored away somehow. Be it a lion or another thing entirely," she explained. Slash gave a simple 'oh' and he watched as she spun and kept walking. "That's why we're headed back. That'll be your first lesson, always keep it in mind. Once slain, a Sin Lion leaves behind all of the sinful energy it collected through its life in a new harmless form. We need to collect it as soon as possible." 

   "Wow ... being a Sin Scavenger sounds like a lot of work," Slash said. Willow just grinned and led him back to the battleground, finally. 

   Upon reaching the now peaceful land, Slash's jaw dropped. The corpse was gone. Nothing left! Neither blood nor skin nor bone. Willow brushed her tail over his muzzle, urging him to close his mouth. Then, the two padded over to the location of the death. The pup kept looking back forth for the body but as expected, didn't see a scrap of the beast anywhere. It was difficult to believe it vanished so abruptly. 

   Knowing what he would ask, Willow spat out her answer. "They're not real things. Sin Lions will transform into a new smaller form once their core, or their brain as some would say, is broken. They don't even have organs aside from their lungs and brain."

   Slash sat down feeling a little less overwhelmed, but a little more confused. He hoped he would get used to this; having information dumped into his little head. He watched as she sniffed the ground for whatever object the Sin Lion dissolved into and perked up as she shot upright.

   "Here!" she batted a small black orb over to Slash, who flinched at the motion. His eyes fell to the small gemstone and he examined it closely, even seeing his warped reflection on the dark surface. 

   Willow plopped down near him and her eyes began to glow black, hiding the silver of her iris behind a faint sheet of darkness. The little gemstone drifted up from the ground and hovered back to Willow. Before he could speak, his silent query was answered. "It's called a 'Stained Pearl'. They're left behind following a Sin Lion's death," she said, using her telekinesis she rotated the small object and nodded in satisfaction. She then brought the stone into the chest pouch of her dark brown vest. The pouch closed with a click of the button. 

   Slash's eyes dulled as the gem was put away, his intrigue having been sullied by her sudden actions. Willow leaned and stretched her legs out, a giddy expression on her face. She bounced back to life and beamed at her pupil. "Welp, it's time to head home now! It's time for you to say goodbye to these woods. You won't be returning for a while," she said. She began to strut away, her tail swaying back and forth behind her. Slash's emerald eyes followed her briefly before he turned back and up at the trees. 

   His home was a young forest, every tree planted no more than ten years ago. They were so young and brave, just as he would be. He gave his territory a few last looks, feeling a bit regretful. These woods would become forlorn without him and his brother. At least that's what he liked to think. He flexed his toes and felt the soil sliding between and under his claws. Taking a last breath of this home, he sprang up and made a break for his mentor's side. 

   It was better not to look back. It'd make him guilty and he didn't want to feel that emotion. It was too heavy like a stone had been tied to his heart, and whoever tied the two together just sneered as the heart tried to stay afloat with this added weight. 

   Slash peeked at Willow from the corner of his eye and watched her fearless steps and her bold grin. Maybe, just maybe, his life was about to get interesting. 

    The mentor and the student continued to hike until the soft orange of sunset crept into the sky; the sun drifting off behind them and dragging their shadows. They had been walking nonstop for an hour or two, and he was holding back from complaining about sore paws. He huffed and swallowed his whine and kept trailing the adult's steps. His eyelids fluttered and he began to pass the time by taking in the scenery and tasting the heavy air. 

   "Almost to the portal," Willow called in a somewhat sing-song voice. She had overtaken her pupil in their hike as she had longer legs and more energy than the small pup. 

   "Portal?" 

   "Yes, portal. Our territory is located across the ocean on West and it'd take months to return by foot, so we use portals instead. We have tons of them hidden all over the planet, at least two in every Zone. Makes travel a breeze," she explained. "There aren't many Sin Scavenger packs as ardent as us, so we frequent numerous locations all over." Slash hastily nodded. Yeah, he got that. He thinks. 

   He sprinted to close the distance and returned to pace by her side. He then froze. Willow knew exactly why and a smirk formed upon her lips. 

   A loud groan escaped as he saw the rather large hill they had to trudge up.  "Awww!" He bucked at the dirt and sent pebbles and dust flying about in a small fit. He ended his tantrum by throwing himself on the ground and covering himself in the newly wrought dirt. With a loud grumble, he flipped onto his stomach and laid there with a rooted clump on his head. 

   Willow's shit-eating grin didn't fade one bit. 

   She urged him to his feet and they began their ascent. 

   Upon aching legs and drooping eyes, Slash climbed the hillside alongside Willow. She comforted him by telling him he'd get used to it but he doubted he even wanted to. His heavy head lifted to take a gander at the lone tree at the summit. An ancient tree with branches stretched out like a hawk's wings. Vines and ivy twisted and hung. Birds of all species perched upon and nestled in the leaves. It seemed dark and looming against the fiery background of the evening sky. 

   Looking down to try and dominate his clumsiness, Slash continued to walk as Willow led the way up. They climbed to the base of the majestic tree, it being even more gargantuan than Slash originally thought. They approached an opening in the roots and to a ditch dug beneath the tree forming a large burrow. They crept inside. 

   Entering the burrow of tangled roots, Willow's tail signaled for Slash to stop. He stood a bit away from her and tilted his head. She lowered her head and began chanting an incantation in a language Slash didn't know. Once she fell silent, her eyes lifted and she stepped back, a pink slit forming just a step ahead. Slowly, a vibrant pink cyclone of a portal established itself before the duo. The pup stared in wonder at the swirling mass of light with his mind failing to bring any words to describe it. Without a single word, Willow waved for Slash to follow and leapt into the portal, Slash gasping and launching after her. 

   Once both were through, the portal dissolved without a trace as if it had never existed. 

   Two paws, then four. He landed firmly inside the portal and cracked open an eye, peeking inside. Both eyes flew wide as they could, his head whipping around in a sudden motion. His whole body stiffened and his heart pulsed in his chest. A world of chromatic light drowned his eyes pressuring him to squeeze them shut just to avoid overstimulation. His mind became overwhelmed by the abrupt change in scenery, he didn't think that he would be in a gateway, somewhere. Instead, he was expecting to pop out at their destination. The swiftly flowing colors raced past him as he pushed himself forward, following Willow's steps and her voice tentatively. 

   He knit his brows and grit his teeth, forcing his eyes to stay open despite drowning in a river of radiance. Willow called to him over her shoulder, "We're almost there, just hang on." With that, he strode after her with some more desperation, huddling up to her shoulder so he wouldn't get separated. 

   "Is ... it possible to get lost in here? Is it a one-way trip or can you end up anywhere?" he asked, anxiety pouring from his trembling voice. Large eyes darted about, searching for any fractures or threats. The whole portal was too messy for him to even begin to comprehend. 

   "Anywhere. This is an entire dimension of interconnecting pathways, and so long as you've got a vague idea of where you want to go you won't get lost. To make things easier we chant the name of the Zone we want to visit so the path doesn't diverge upon loss of concentration," she said. Willow glanced at the fretful pup and his quivering body and it made her chest curl. "We'll be fine. This place can't hurt us."

   Despite her promise, he couldn't shake his apprehension. Trying to calm him, she presented a carefree smile, a tail wag, and lightened her steps. With a prance, she continued before her ears pricked up and her attention was reestablished. Slash watched her two abrupt changes in attitude and followed her line of sight to a floating pink scratch in the portal just ahead of them. 

   "What's that?" It looked like the entrance to the portal. Oh, well on that thought his question was pretty useless. 

   "Our destination!" she chirped. She raced forward, the pink tear expanded and formed a cyclone to let her advance. Willow hopped through the exit; Slash came close behind. 

   When he opened his eyes this time, he was met with a gorgeous meadow, a blue afternoon sky, and a sudden hot spell dancing on his back. The portal snapped shut behind him but he hardly noticed the faded sensation. Slash scrunched his nose up at the brisk change in temperature, unable to adjust to the newfound heat of the meadow. The dirt beneath his paws held no moisture and the grass tangled around his toes offered no escape. Scowling, he stared up at the clear blue sky and gave Willow a questioning look. 

   To him was a knowing one. "Welcome to West! This is Puella, one of the mountainous regions in the western continent. Don't worry I'll be your guide." Willow once again waved for him to follow her. "Come, we'll talk in a better place. I bet this transition is a bit intense." 

   The two walked westward to a larger tree with nice shading and sat beneath, Slash welcoming the coolness of the darkened land. He let his body relax as he dropped his weight against the trunk. "Hah ... so why is it still day here?" he asked, voice breathy. 

   "Because it's West. In Central it's sunset, while in East it's night. The sun sets to the west meaning that it'll be daytime here while it's sunset back where you lived. Though it's well past noon so we'll be approaching sunset pretty soon. Couple hours give or take." Willow was pretty lazy with her answer, going on a bit of a tangent. But it was easy to understand so Slash didn't mind the information. It was less to take in than the stuff about the portal or the Sin Lion. He'd had to learn everything eventually anyway. Better to start early.  He gave a hum and closed his eyes trying to rest from his exhausting journey. For a small child, it was arduous to walk for several hours. His paws hurt and his energy was nonexistent. 

    Willow seemed to pick up on this and offered to let him rest for a short while, giving him little bits of casual information while he regained his strength. "You know this vest of mine? It's fireproof. All Sin Scavengers have a special vest or pack they carry with them to hold Stained Pearls in. You'll get one once you graduate upon your rite of passage. That'll be on your sixth birthday. You're only about three seasons old right now so it's far away so don't worry about it now. Oh, and I have two siblings in the pack. An older sister and an older brother. You'll meet both pretty soon." 

   "They're important?" he asked lazily. 

   "Very," she beamed. Glancing back at the sky, she decided he had enough rest and nuzzled him to sit back up. "Something more important now. Be attentive." Slash's mind tensed at the notion and he tugged the corners of his lips, making his mouth a straight line. "This pack is mostly an uncover group, while we can share our name, we silence ourselves before dubious folks. Also, there's a trial you must undergo to become an official Sin Scavenger trainee. You better be ready for it." 

   This woman sure did talk a lot. "Yes, Willow..." 

   The two got up and sauntered through the sunny meadow to the forest ahead. Or, jungle, actually. Slash's eyes kept going up and up as they neared the trees. They rose well beyond one hundred feet into the sky, touching the God's Realm with their outstretched branches. 

   She kept talking as they walked. "See this meadow we're in? These are known as the Meadowlands. Simple name, simple place. The woodland ahead of us is called the Pinwood Garden. It's the protective shield of the Womb." 

   "The Womb?" Slash echoed. Willow nodded. He'd see. 

   "The Meadowland is three miles wide from the edge of Pinwood Garden to the edge of the mountain range." She nodded to the mountains in the distance. "Those mountains extend for twenty miles outwards and form a protective ring around the meadow and in extension the Pinwood Garden, which in turn protects the Womb. The Womb itself is pretty hazardous so we're in a pretty safe location I'd say. Intruders and invasions are a dream." 

   "Or a nightmare if the enemy is that powerful," Slash said. Willow hummed in agreement but she didn't seem convinced that was possible. Apparently, they had numerous countermeasures planned in case someone made it through all of their defenses. At least that's what he'd assume. She was cocky enough that it wasn't hard to guess. 

   The two walked through the trees into the jungle, a tall canopy casting shadows, barely allowing light to reach the ground below. The soil was moist, and underbrush was thick to a point he could hardly see where he was stepping. Every time he lowered his paw it was swallowed by ferns or something. He honestly didn't know what half these plants were so, for now, they were all ferns. 

   The dense jungle-like terrain was dark, all light being forbidden by the thick foliage far above. Any sunlight that cascaded down was nothing but a dreamy beam that illuminated clumps of desperate plants thirsty for the sustenance. The trees that extended well into the sky made the pup feel so insignificant, and almost suffocating with their presence alone. Vines hung from the branches and birds of all kinds sang their echoing songs for the animals below. 

   Hopping up and down were squirrels, monkeys, and more. His face softened at the sight of such a lively world. 

   From the woods to the portal to the meadow to the jungle, it felt as though Slash had walked through four different worlds all within three hours. He knew he had never left the planet but sweet Mia above sure did it. Willow stopped him from walking forward any longer and sneered. Slash tilted his head and stepped up as she moved out of the way. He'd been too distracted by the trees to notice where they had gone. 

   He moved to the edge of a sloping cliff, and his soul went ablaze. Face glowing and eyes sparkling. He staggered at the sight of a massive sinkhole penetrating deep into the ground. As far down as he could see there were trees of all kinds circling that steep drop into the earth. Fog filled the steep drop and blocked his view from anything further; the contents, or even how deep it went was a mystery. From the sky, one wouldn't even be able to tell the thing was there. 

   He had to blink himself out of the momentary trance. Only two words could slip through his wonder. "Holy hell..." 

   Slash peered down the slope and into the dense trees below, wondering how much it might hurt to fall. Unwilling to slip, he clutched the ground with all his remaining strength. Hearing a strange honk, he lifted his gaze to meet a flock of birds gliding gracefully through the fog below, his tension easing. They resembled swans, they were so white and beautiful. Their calls echoed faintly throughout the impression. Crouching at the edge, he was content just to watch the swans gracing the swirling mist below. 

   Willow blinked and observed his unveiled smile. "This is the Womb," she said, staring down into the sinkhole. "Within that sinkhole is where the Sapphire pack resides. This place will be your new home." 

   "This?!" He sprung to his paws and was pitiful at hiding his horror. "We have to go down there?" 

   Willow merely glanced at him. She then leaped into the sinkhole without any indication of hesitation. Slash stared in horror as the she-wolf disappeared into the fog. He heard her call up to him, but the words didn't ease him one bit. "I expect you at the bottom! Consider this your first trial. If you can't even do that then what's the point of training you? If you can't climb down then you don't even deserve to be a part of this pack." 

   And with that, there was silence. 

   His jaw dropped and he went with a thud to the ground. Does this ever end? First, he has to walk two hours to the portal, then half a mile through the Meadowlands, then through Pinwood Garden, and now he has to descend into a sinkhole a mile wide?! She'll kill him from exhaustion long before he even gets a chance to train! 

   "..."

   What was he whining about? She said to consider it a test, a trial. And a trial is a trial. One either passes or fails. How could he ever look Fang in the eye if he couldn't even do this much? He took a deep breath, stood up, and shook all negative thoughts out of his head. 

   "Okay!" 

   He pushed on and slipped down the slope into the trees below, and skittered and zigzagged through to the cavity in the center. He wouldn't let himself be useless. He'll prove he's worthy of becoming her student. 

                                            ~~__________~~

   From within the fog, the obscured she-wolf glared with keen eyes at the persistent child. She watched him like a hawk keened its prey. Willow let her teeth show in a toothy sneer and she vanished into a hole. ‘Just so you know, wings are useless here. Your judgment is your best friend. Always keep that in mind, Slash.’ 

[racheltkellogg]

From Battleground to Higher Ground

Wow, it’s already Halloween! Time has really escaped me in the last month. That means a lot has happened in the past few weeks. Truly, much more than I’ve wanted to share until this point. In talking about the many battles I’ve faced this year, I’m finally starting to feel like a bit of a broken record. In the last month, I’ve been accused of ruining lives due to my illness. I’ve been accused of dragging people down with “my medical”. Quite frankly, I’ve really been put through the wringer emotionally. Life is about as unclear now as it was right after my diagnosis and I had to stop working. But in the midst of all that noise, this blanket of peace is covering me. That peace is God and knowing He’s the ultimate Author of my life. God gives the toughest battles to His strongest warriors. I can’t help but acknowledge this passion in my soul to live a life filled with people who are fighting – and struggling to fight – just as I am.

Exactly one day after my last blog update, I was rushed to the ER here in Seattle. It was a very unfortunate situation since I was making positive strides, physically and mentally, after my long hospitalization. Just before the close of September, I found out some devastating, heartbreaking news. You guys know me, I’m an open book. But this particular situation was so triggering, I simply don’t want to share what happened. Many of you know I’ve jumped through hoops after my latest boyfriend and I broke up. That was just two months ago. Since then I’ve undergone a 3-and-a-half week hospitalization, had to dump my former living situation and move, have been fundraising like crazy to keep a roof over my head – and now, a scary trip to the ER. In this span of a month, I’ve also learned I won’t be returning to television news any time soon – if ever. I’ll get more into the work update later in this post, but first I want to focus on the story surrounding this ER visit. It’ll give you a better sense of how strongly my chronic illness is fueled by my emotions. During the evening of Friday, September 29th, I was shocked by some unexpected personal news. In the moments following the discovery, I engaged in a phone call that was demeaning and negative beyond belief. Those 20-short minutes led me into a spiral of anxiety that I couldn’t control. My body reacted in a way it never has before. I was vomiting profusely, nearly convulsing at times. I’ve truly never experienced anything like this before. Luckily, in that moment while vomiting, I had the wherewithal to text the person I last spoke with and demanded they call 911. Next thing I know, I’m being hauled away in an ambulance and would spend the next seven hours in the emergency room. I underwent even more tests, and doctors/nurses continued to monitor my vitals throughout the night.

I was finally discharged after 6am Saturday morning. I had to order an Uber to get home because I didn’t have my car. By the way, there’s nothing more humbling than getting home from the ER in an Uber - especially while recovering from your own emergency situation. Later that morning, I saw my therapist. I cried for the first 20 minutes of my appointment. I couldn’t spit out a single word. Just a few hours before that, I was discharged. I still hadn’t processed the news from the night before, or the surprise ER visit. For the next two weeks, I couldn’t eat. I tried, but fought endless amounts of nausea and heightened anxiety. It was as if a lion was chasing me for seven to 10 straight days. My GP flared up. I lost more weight (down to 110lbs). My doctors became more worried - and that alone induces more personal stress for me. I’ve been praying for my situation for months, but after this ER visit, I couldn’t stop praying. I was so spent, I found myself asking – how is this life even worth it?

Here’s where God comes in - it’s crazy. Just 12 hours after being discharged from the ER, I attended an anniversary party for my church. About 30 minutes into that party, I got an email congratulating me on being chosen as an Ambassador for the inspirational brand, Live A Great Story. This is huge for me. I’ve been following the movement for three years - about the amount of time it’s been around. Man, timing is everything. I found myself thanking Jesus moments after I received the news of my ambassadorship. Not only for the opportunity, but because I know it’s affirmation from God that He wants me to LIVE OUT A GREAT STORY with my illness. I had to remind myself of the positives I’ve learned from this life-changing journey, once again. God reminded me WHY I’m on this path. Certainly, it’s not for me alone - but for the lives I hope to touch and inspire right now and in the future.

As an ambassador, I want to share positivity, love and encouragement around the Seattle area. This city is amazing and deserves the empowering message surrounded by this movement. One that truly reflects the life of Jesus, too! He lived the greatest, most selfless story of all - so why can’t I?

Soon here, I’ll be organizing a few events to try and inspire Seattleites to live a great story. Maybe a Day of Kindness, or a day of storytelling - where people can share their struggles only to be accepted for them. If you have ANY ideas, I wanna hear all about them!

Shortly after my visit to the ER, I enrolled in a DBT (dialectical behavior therapy) Skills training group. Not only do I need the skills of emotional regulation and all that therapy, but heck - it’ll be valuable information to use in my next adventure as a life coach. It’s not cheap, but it’s time I truly start investing in myself and my health.

Now to the health update!

Since my weight has been on the steady decline, my psychiatrist (who’s more supportive than my primary doctor) referred me to a dietician in Seattle who specializes in gastrointestinal disorders. She’s been a God-send, but such a huge damper on my finances. I’ve seen some good progress in the last two weeks of seeing her - but I’m now on all kinds of supplements that range from $30-$70 per bottle. Multiply that by 5 bottles. Health and illness are both so expensive…and mind you, these supplements need to be taken several times throughout the day - so I’m already running out. 

Some of those supplements are supposed to help combat my fatigue. I’ve been dealing with some harsh fatigue for years (thanks overnight shift), but it got a whole lot worse when eating became an obstacle. Obviously, when you don’t eat - your body doesn’t produce energy. So now we’re trying to retrain my stomach/body in hopes it can heal and normalize itself. My dietician’s overall goal for me during that process is to eat six small meals a day. I’ve only been able to stomach about three small meals so far. Sometimes only two. And as sad as it sounds, my six meals consist of two half smoothies, two tiny (super basic) turkey sandwiches, and soup. So I’m eating the same foods every day, multiple times per day. Exhilarating! Right now, she also has me doing the HCL Challenge. If you don’t know, HCL stands for Hydrochloric Acid - and it helps break down the foods in your stomach. I started the challenge by taking one HCL capsule, and need to increase my dosage by one capsule every day until I feel heart burn. I took NINE CAPSULES today, and I still don’t feel any “warming” or “burning”. That means my stomach is likely very deficient in HCL. I’m not sure if that’s due to my GP, or if that’s one of the factors that contribute to my GP. It’s like the chicken or the egg.

In the last two weeks, I also found out I won’t be returning to TV news in quite some time. Due to my illness, my doctors and I had to come up with a list of accommodations before I could actually return to work. My leave of absence was extended two weeks longer than it was supposed to be - and that’s because my employer and my doctor were back and forth in the discussion. After all that, my employer came back and said they could not meet the necessary accommodations. That means I either have five weeks to try and magically get better (*ahem, GP’s chronic*), or come up with some other plan to put me on long-term disability. The latter is clearly the only route I can realistically take since I’m still dealing with symptoms daily. Some days are obviously worse than others - but my illness isn’t conducive to the nature of the news business. 

My not being able to return to work is a huge hit to January’s goal of beginning my life coach certification. At this point, I have zero finances for it. None. I’ll continue to pray for the funds necessary to join and finish the program - and I kindly ask for your prayers, too! I could use a bit of clarity on the necessary “next” steps He wants me to take. Should I work with the mentally ill in a behavioral hospital? Start a support group? How do I pay for the bills with all these rising medical expenses? I’ve also been trying hard to get an appointment with a GI doctor who specializes in Gastroparesis. She works out of the University of Washington - and man, the process has taken well over a month just to make an appointment. It’s difficult to be seen at UW. The hospital requires a “patient review process”, and several of my doctors haven’t been as attentive with my information as necessary. I’ve had to become my own super-advocate because some of my doctors just forget. Seeing this new GI doctor is very important. I’m currently not seeing a gastroenterologist and haven’t since my last one diagnosed me via email and dodged out of town for over a week. I was left to research my “death-threat” disease online by myself. I say “death threat” because I literally thought I was going to die after all the crap I read online. After that situation, I ditched that doctor and her hospital and started seeing my functional medicine doctor. Since then, It’s taken months to find a good GI who is well-versed and highly educated in my illness. All in all, UW is still processing my medical records before they can accept me as a patient. I could use prayers for a speedy and positive response to that request. 

As always, I just want to thank you for keeping up with journey, sharing my story, and even donating to my GoFundMe campaign. If you haven’t, and want to help with my current battle, you can access it under my blog’s headline - or just by clicking right here! If you don’t have money to spare, that’s SO okay! I still appreciate your love and concern more than you know. And if you could share my story or the link with others who may be able to help, then I’m forever indebted to you. Gosh, I’m so blessed by all the good friends and loved ones that are helping me through this really difficult time. I love you guys so, so, so, so much!

On a short and final note: I just wanna make sure my Cali friends+fam know there’s no way I’m moving back after the past few weeks Seattle. This city has resources. Seattle has seasons. Colorful trees. Misty, moody and beautiful rain. The ocean. Lakes. Islands. I’m in awe. Fall, I have truly fallen head over heels for you! 

Thank you again for reading! Until next time! MUCH LOVE<3