#i have to go get a temporary heart monitor tomorrow and also go to an allergist/ENT because i’ve been having so many issues

[umemiyan]

not to jinx it but i think my reproductive system might finally be deciding to function on its own and i’m so excited lmfao

[space-mermaid-writing]

House Arrest [Loki X Reader] Chapter 1

Summary: You are Clint’s 'little' sister and actually a trained Shield agent. But you gave that up a few years ago and became a Chef, because you wanted a normal live. Then one day Natasha shows up at your door and takes you to the Avenger Tower for a while for security reasons.

Tags: Reader is an former Shield Agent, chef!reader, Reader Barton, 2012 Avenger vibes, everything is still alright, Slice of Life, Avengers Family, Loki has a good heart, still the god of mischief, Slow Burn, mention of food and cooking

Read it on AO3

Chapter 1: New Home

It's just before midnight when you finally get off work. You really like your job, but the hours are murder. Being a chef at one of the most expensive five-star restaurants in Philadelphia has its price. You take off your apron, which has hardly any stains from the last few hours on it, and throw it in the wash. The white jacket goes neatly into your locker and is replaced by a cardigan and a scarf. It’s a cool night. With a last good bye to your colleagues, who are still putting the dishes into the dishwashers, you make your way home.

The night is dark, but the streets are lit by lanterns and the windows of closed stores. Even if it had been pitch black, it wouldn't have worried you to have to walk alone through the empty alleys. Last year a guy had tried to rob you and threatened you with a knife. You had given him a broken nose and several stab wounds in the shoulder. After all, you had been trained at Shield. But the poor guy didn’t know that.

Half an hour later you arrive at your apartment. It's more functional than nicely furnished, and everything is a bit of a pick 'n' mix. But you don't mind it, because you spend most of your time at work anyway. At home you don't feel such great importance to culinary variety when it comes to your own food. A pizza or French fries with ketchup were always welcome. After all, you've been standing at the stove long enough at work. Tired, you decide to wait until breakfast for your next meal and, after a quick change of clothes, just fall into bed.

Fortunately, the next day is your day off. You make good use of it and sleep in. Afterwards you have an nice brunch with eggs, bacon and toast and after a short shower you go into town to do some errands. The sun is shining warmly from the sky and it's a beautiful spring day. If this holds up until the weekend, maybe you'd visit the weekly market and see what exotic and rare foods you can grab there. You love these little trips, even if you rarely find the time.

About two hours later and with three full shopping bags, you re-enter your apartment. It's on the second floor of a rather nondescript building, but the interior is very modern, with pastel-colored, high walls. You put everything in the kitchen cabinets and then brew yourself a tea/coffee, with which you make yourself comfortable on the couch and turn on the TV. It's time to relax a little. So you zap through the programs, watch the rest of an episode of your favorite series and then decide to watch a reality series, which is not exactly known for its quality but is entertaining. So the noon goes by until suddenly the doorbell rings. You get up to see if it's the mailman or a neighbor with a package. But a look through the peephole shows you that it is neither. Surprised, you open the door "Nat!" Natasha Romanoff is a friend of you and your brother, as well as the godmother of his children. But due to her job you rarely see each other. "Hey," she greets you with a small smile. "Can I come in?" "Sure." You lead her into the living room, where you turn off the TV. "What can I get you? Tea, coffee, milkshake?" "Coffee is fine." You disappear into the kitchen for a moment as she sits down in the armchair. Natasha was a rare visitor. Mostly she came with some news from Clint. You see him even less because he spends what little free time he has mostly with his wife and the two kids. Understandable. You don't hold it against him and try to visit them on holidays or for birthdays at her farm.

It doesn't take long until you return to the Russian woman with a new cup and some pastries and sit down on the couch again. "Well," you ask her curiously. "What do I owe the pleasure?" Natasha reaches for her cup. "It’s rather inconvenience. But first tell me if you’ve observed anything unusual lately." Questioningly, you look at her. "What do you mean?" "Nothing weird? You sure?", she asks. "Tell me what I'm supposed to have seen, please," you prompt her, both impatient and confused. Natasha gets right to the point. "You're being monitored." "By Shield?" "By Hydra." Stunned by this news, you remain silent. Natasha uses this pause to drink her coffee. "Oh, this is really good." But you don't listen to her at all, because various thoughts are circling in your head. And again you try to remember if you have noticed anything: same people you met, vehicles, anything. But you got pretty used to your life and didn't pay attention at these things. "Anyway, I'm here to pick you up. For your own safety it’s best if you stay with us for a while," Natasha finally breaks the silence and you look up. "What could Hydra possibly want from me? I don't know any internal secrets anymore. There are better to kidnap than me." "That's what we're trying to figure out right now." "Well, the danger doesn't seem to be acute", you note. "If they wanted to grab me, I wouldn't be sitting here by now. Thanks, but I decline and prefer to stay here. I have my job and the apartment." And now that you know what's going on, you can pay attention and take the necessary precautions, too. "Thanks for warning me." Natasha, on the other hand, doesn't look like she gives you a choice. "You know Shield has its ways to convince you?", she reminds you, but you shrug. Why would such a large organization bother with a single civilian like you? "What does my dear brother say about this matter?", you ask instead. "He hasn't been informed yet." Ergo, they deliberately leave him out of it so that he can't protest. You know this kind of approach of Shield.

Clint understands and supports you in your civilian life, even though he protested the loudest back when you announced your exit. "How’s he?", you want to know from Natasha, who is now finishing her coffee. "He's alive." That can mean just about anything from being happy and healthy to badly hurt but breathing. Better than being dead, you guess. "He's out in Africa with Steve right now." "Busy, huh?" "As usual." She stands up as a sign that she has nothing more to say for the day, and you walk her to the door, where you bid her farewell. "We'll talk again soon," she promises, but admittedly you have little desire to do so right now. "Sure," you reply and close the door behind her.

Well, that were some news. You put her empty cup in the sink and pause thoughtfully by the window. How could you have missed Hydra's agent, you ask yourself while glancing out. Your new life made you too comfortable. But it also takes up a lot of time and energy. And anyway, you dropped out because you didn't want to be cautiousness all the time anymore. You wanted a normal life with a normal job and normal problems. Away from agents, assassinations and super powers. You didn't want to check every day on your way to work if you were being followed, secretly monitored or if someone else was out to get you. That's why you’ve chosen this life. With a sigh, you sit back down on the couch. The past never leaves you alone, you guess. But tomorrow would be a long day even without these new old worries.

~~

The advantage of being a chef is usually that you don't have to get up at the crack of dawn for work. Most Restaurants open at noon, some even in the evening. So does the one where you work. There are preparations to be made before opening time, but you can still sleep through the morning, do some housework, and then head to the restaurant in the sunny afternoon. That's where the trouble starts, though. Just as you're about to open your locker to change your clothes, someone taps you on the shoulder. It's your boss, who hands you a letter. You can tell immediately from his serious expression that something is wrong. And when you open the envelope, you discover your resignation. You look up, perplexed, but you lose out in the following discussion. You don't even get a decent explanation, and that’s what annoys you the most. You're pretty sure your skills aren’t the issue, neither is the way you work. Nor the way you treat your colleagues, with whom you get along very well, even if the tone among cooks is a bit rough. You go back to your apartment, now in a bad mood. It‘s unbelievable! The sunny weather seems like a mockery to you now, and the people you meet along the way are in far too good a mood, in your opinion. It will be hell to find another good job as this was.

Arriving back home you immediately get more bad news: your landlord put a notice on your apartment door. The bathrooms in the building will get completely renovated soon and will be unusable for several weeks. Plus the heavy construction noise during the day. And the water would be turned off. It would be best to find temporary substitute apartment, so they recommend. "Haha...ha..." You laugh dryly and unlock the door. Was that a coincidence? When Natasha had been here yesterday? Probably not. You know Shield's methods and that it’s easy for them to take away your job and your apartment just to get their way. You have two options: either you accept the offer before Shield gets any more stupid ideas, or you run away and try to hide. With a sigh you go into your bedroom and throw a suitcase on the bed, in which you pack clothes, the most important documents and some things from the kitchen you need for work. Not everything fits, so you add a second travel bag. Meanwhile, you think about who you could complain to. Your brother was a favorite target of yours, but he a) had nothing to do with this matter and b) was not in the country. Which’s a shame, because you'd really like to have him by your side right now. If you wanted to complain to Shield directly, Fury would probably be the best person to do it. But you hold too much respect for him to vent your anger to him. Maybe just the next Shield agent who would come to you on this matter would have to step in. You know someone would definitely get back to you. With one last look around your apartment, you leave it and lock the door. Then you shoulder your bag and make your way out.

Just as you're thinking about getting a large coffee from Starbucks down the street, a red sports car pulls up to the side of the road. Natasha at the wheel. "Hmph..." You walk over to her and throw your luggage in the back seat. Then you take a seat in the passenger seat yourself. "Just for the record, I'm not happy with this." "I can see that." She tries to give a sympathetic smile, but you know this is just a job to her. "Well then, off to the Bat Cave, Wayne." "Does that make you Robin?", the Russian asks, driving off. "I guess", you reply snippy, not interested in keeping the conversation going. Fortunately, Natasha wasn't exactly the talkative sort either, so you have some peace and quiet to get your thoughts in order.

It takes you just under two hours to drive from Philadelphia to New York with city traffic slowing you down a bit. Otherwise, you would have arrived earlier at the former Stark Tower. It's been the Avenger Tower for some time now, but that doesn't make much difference, except that Tony Stark seems to be too lazy to put the remaining letters back on it.

Natasha parks in the private underground garage and you take the elevator up to the grand lobby. She tells you about the current residents here. There’s the usual staff, who are of course always present. Of all the Avengers, Bruce Banner is living here permanently. "He actually hardly ever leaves the lab," the Russian explains. "I'm currently living here, too. Every now and then Thor stops by, but mostly he prefers to explore the world. And his brother Loki is here. There have been some...problems with him and he's sort of under supervision here. Tony trusts technology more than Asgard. The owner of the house, by the way, is out visiting an outpost right now." "There are even Avengers outposts?" Natasha nods as she walks you down the halls to the living area. "But don't tell Hydra." "Sure", you promise unfazed. "Speaking of which, if I want to go out to visit someone, do I need a key or how does this work?" "It's better if you stay here in the house for now. It's for your safety, after all." "For how long?", you want to know. The answer is short. "As long as necessary." "So I'm sort of locked in here”, you state. That's typical Shield. As soon as there's any problem, an agent is sent in to put everything in solitary arrest or quarantine. As long as it’s shielded from the rest of the world. Natasha stops in front of a door that is now yours, but doesn't look directly at you, which as much of an answer as you get. "I'll be fine on my own now, thanks," you smile politely but not genuinely at her, and after she assures you that you're free to move around inside the building, you head off with your luggage in your new apartment.

[mandelene]

✿: feeling so out of it, they need constant attention

You’ve got it! 💕  Thanks for the ask!

Someone asked me to write asthmatic Matthew in the ER a while ago, and I didn’t do it, but here it is now. 😂 I hope it's not total trash.

Sweet Normalcy

Word Count: 1555

Chest pain, the dull aching kind that flares up every time he inhales, that’s all he feels. Keeping his eyes open takes a great deal of effort, but the constant hissing flow of nebulized albuterol being delivered through the mask on his face makes it hard to get any sleep. Maintaining a train of thought for longer than fifteen seconds is also a sudden challenge. When he rolls his head to the right and looks up at the monitor behind him, he sees his heart rate is in the 140s and his oxygen saturation is at ninety-five percent on albuterol and oxygen. That’s not normal for him. None of this is normal. He can’t remember the last time things got this out of control.

“Matthew? Any better, love?” Dad asks him from the chair to his left. He’s been sitting there for hours now, continuously keeping vigilant watch.

It’s a busy night in the emergency department, and it feels a bit like he’s in a bad fever dream. The doctor checking in on him introduced herself earlier, but he can’t recall her name. An alarm goes off every few minutes from someone’s monitor, and it takes him longer than it should to recognize that it’s his monitor making that noise and alerting his nurse to keep coming over to assess him due to his seesawing oxygen saturation and heart rate.

Matthew’s not even sure what time it is anymore. He barely remembers anything. Every hour or so, he will doze off into a fitful half-sleep for twenty minutes or so before waking again and feeling disoriented. A nurse could tell him he’s been here for a week, and he’d believe them.

“Matthew? I asked if you’re feeling any better?” Dad asks again, leaning forward in his seat to grab his clammy left hand and squeeze it gently.

“A little,” Matthew lies, for his father’s sake. He wonders where Alfred and Papa are. They were here earlier, he’s pretty sure.

“I can tell when you’re not being truthful,” Dad sighs, squeezing his hand harder. “You’re not improving. You need to be admitted. This is ridiculous. You should have been admitted hours ago.”

Matthew hates seeing him stressed like this, but he also knows there’s nothing he can do about it at the moment. He feels himself slipping into momentary sleep again, and his eyes flutter shut. He wants to go home. Wants to be in his bed…Is it morning yet?

“Sixteen-year-old with a history of asthma…Patient accompanied by his father. Patient began oral corticosteroid treatment two days ago at home after experiencing wheezing, chest tightness, and coughing that was not fully improving with usual rescue medications…”

They’re talking about him—Matthew realizes that much, at least. He opens his glazed eyes and sees a new doctor approaching him. His ID badge says he’s a critical care doctor. Matthew’s not sure what the difference is between him and the other doctor he saw earlier, but he honestly can’t be bothered to care. He wants to sleep. Desperately. And he wants the chest pain to stop.

“Matthew, buddy?” the doctor says, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He doesn’t want to breathe anymore. His chest hurts too much, and speaking would require taking another agonizing breath.

"Mmmrgh" is all he can manage.

“He’s been less and less responsive,” Dad supplies from the other side of the room, and Matthew can hear the nervousness in his voice, which is unsettling. Dad rarely ever shows how anxious he is when someone’s sick. “I can’t get him to talk to me in full sentences anymore—just phrases.”

The doctor carefully sits him up, and Matthew feels his whole body shake. He rests his elbows against the stretcher to brace himself. A cold stethoscope touches his back, and he shivers.

“He’s still not moving air. He needs to be brought upstairs to intensive care to be monitored. We’ll continue IV steroid treatment and continuous albuterol. If he’s still like this, we can consider non-invasive ventilation and take it from there. Our main priority is to protect his airway.” 

Dad says something, but Matthew doesn’t hear it over the noise of the nebulizer. He just knows he’s going to be moved soon and the treatment is going to become more serious now. If he weren’t so tired, he might be scared.

The doctor leaves, and Dad goes back to holding Matthew’s hand. “It’s going to be all right, love. You’ll receive better care soon and hopefully, you’ll start to feel better,” Dad tells him before using his other hand to pet his head. “Try to rest. I’ll be right here, and I won’t let anything happen to you, understand?” 

Matthew nods. His eyes do close again, and he does get some brief rest. The next time he’s aware of his surroundings and wakes up, he’s already in the ICU, which means he slept through his transport. The respiratory therapist is setting him up on a BiPAP machine, and once it’s on, it makes his chest hurt even more, which he didn’t think was possible. He grits his teeth against the pain and tries not to make a fuss about it—it would just make Dad worry even more. The air being forced into his lungs is welcome yet excruciating at the same time.

But he doesn’t have to say anything for Dad to know he’s suffering. It’s written all over his face. “I know, poppet. It’s just temporary. It should help.” 

It’s so exhausting that he falls asleep again without even needing to think about it. Again, he has no idea how much time passes until he sees the sun shining through the windows of the hospital, indicating that it’s finally morning. The BiPAP mask squeezing his face gets replaced with a regular oxygen mask again, and it occurs to him that his chest feels much lighter and his head is clearer. The worst is over. The air in his lungs feels crisp and refreshing...Almost sweet, even. 

“How are you feeling?” Dad asks for the millionth time, still perched next to him. 

“Better…For real this time.” 

Dad hasn’t slept, of course. He never sleeps in such situations. He was likely watching him all night and conversing with his care team. “Good. You gave us all quite a scare.” 

“Sorry.”

“Oh, no, it’s not your fault, love. Not at all…Do you think you’re feeling well enough to have some breakfast?” 

“Yeah.” 

Dad gives him a relieved smile and then goes off to request a breakfast tray for him. It gets brought up within half an hour, and even though Matthew feels a bit nauseous from the steroids in his system, he knows he needs to eat to gain some energy back.

He’s given some pancakes, a fruit cup, and orange juice. He decides to make a move for the orange juice first because his mouth feels incredibly dry and gross. He picks up the carton and that’s when he notices just how shaky he still is. His hands are trembling violently from all of the bronchodilators in his system.

Dad quickly takes the carton from him, sticks a straw into it, and then brings it back up to Matthew’s lips. “Here, poppet, I’ll hold it for you.” 

“…I can do it.” 

“You’ll spill it. Don’t be stubborn.”

It doesn’t feel great to have poorer motor skills than a toddler, but Matthew sips some juice through the straw anyway, allowing himself to be fed because he doesn’t have a choice. He finishes the entire carton, one pancake, and half of the fruit cup before his stomach protests. Dad doesn’t seem too happy about him not finishing the meal, but he doesn’t push it either. 

And just as he’s finishing up, he finds out Alfred and Papa are outside of the unit, waiting to be allowed in. He’s only permitted to have two visitors at a time, so Dad leaves to take a quick trip home to eat and shower while Alfred and Papa take watch next. 

“Dude, you’re alive! Thank God, man. No offense, but you were looking really rough and out-of-it yesterday,” Alfred exclaims upon arrival, bright-eyed and full of pep as always. “It’s good to see you’re looking more like yourself now.”

“We’re so relieved, mon chou. Your father said you may be able to come home as soon as the day after tomorrow.” 

“I hope so…Sorry for making everyone worry.” 

Alfred throws his hands up in the air and shakes his head dramatically. “I have to teach you everything, don’t I, Mattie? You’re not supposed to apologize for being sick. You’re supposed to milk it for all its worth and make everyone feel bad for you and buy you get well soon gifts. Tell Dad when he comes back that you wanna play the new Pokemon Snap on the Switch.” 

“That’s what you want to play, Alfred.” 

“Yeah, but we can share it, right?” 

“Alfred, your brother is seriously ill, and all you’re thinking about are video games again! Where did your father and I go wrong? You could show some sympathy!” Papa scolds, pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation.

“It was a joke! Kinda…Obviously, I love ya, Matt! I was really worried, too!” 

And he has never craved normalcy as much as he does now. 

Yup. Things are already going back to normal.

[theramseyloft]

Pigeon rescue being shut down for “Keeping nuisance animals” needs help finding homes for their birds.

From Tutu.Pigeon’s instagram;

https://www.instagram.com/tutu.pigeon/ 

Hi everyone, I don't even know how to write this post and my heart aches saying this. Our next door neighbors complained about the availability in our backyard and the Garfield NJ health department came to shut us down. 

We have a week to re-home our beautiful rescues and I've been working night and day to find them new homes. 

I've been summoned to court for the following violations: 1. Keeping of animals considered a public nuisance, 2. Having a coop that's too close to my home and the neighbor (needs to be 25 feet or more away), and 3. Having a wild bird feeder that is open. 

Apparently, we needed a permit to have the pigeons and the city is not allowing me to remedy the situation and apply for a permit. 

We do not have enough room in the yard to move the aviary (it has to be taken down) and as renters, our landlord would not be happy about all the pigeons in the home. We are cornered, and it is another reminder that people really do not understand or appreciate pigeons. 

How can animals inside their cage bother anyone? We are heartbroken and will do whatever possible to keep Tutu as a pet. 

We have been blessed to have people step up to help us, and we are arranging to drive all over the United States to find the birds placement in sanctuaries. 

If you would like to support us in any way, please donate to our fundraiser (link in bio) so we can make the necessary trips to Vermont, Oklahoma, and other neighboring states. It will be multiple days of driving but our beautiful rescues deserve another chance. 

Thank you all for the love you've shown us and we will continue to run this page as best we can. I think there is much work to be done to fix people's perception about pigeons and so so many innocent animals that need saving. 

Our disabled pigeons have been granted temporary asylum upstate NY while they find forever homes. As I write this, Beaker, Doll, Minion, Slate, Ally, Dove, and Farble (our disabled pigeons) are on their way to a new life. 

10/3/20

Hi everyone, I wanted to update you on our situation. We are still actively re-homing our beautiful birds. Yesterday, 7 of our disabled/sick pigeons (Beaker, Ally, Slate, Dove, Minion, Farble, Doll) were transported upstate NY to a safe haven while we find permanent placement. The wonderful Sue from @themiafoundation is taking care of "The Jersey Seven" and set them up in their own beautiful room where they are comfortable (pic 9 and video 10). You probably already know of Sue, her pigeon and puppy combo have won the hearts of many! (picture 8). Yesterday were able to find a great home for our beautiful one-eyed Grover with @pidgey.fred. Grover immediately went on her new mommy's shoulder and I believe she's probably still sitting there 😆 We have lined up more permanent homes for our pigeons but still have 16 pigeons that need placement. We are planning our multi-state trip and need your support to make this happen. There are people interested in adopting our birds in California, Washington, Florida and Oklahoma. If you can support us, please donate to our link in our Bio. We appreciate everyone's help and support thus far. You have been so very kind to us. The GoFundMe link is new, specifically for re-homing, so I can share updates on there about our trip. If we can make this happen, you will be able to see pics and videos of our destinations and the Pigeon's new homes. ♥️

10/5/20

Today we say goodbye to our aviary, and the so many beautiful moments we have captured. I'm blessed to have crossed paths with these beautiful creatures and been able to save them. I will keep fighting to secure them a good life, we will not give up on them. Our babies have struggled enough in their early lives and I can only hope they will all find loving homes. Thank you for your donations, it means the world to us. Please continue to support us on our GoFundMe (link in Bio). We are also blessed to have a friend who is taking the aviary and our babies until we can adopt everyone out. This buys us some time. You have all been so generous with us. Even though at moments it doesn't feel like it- the world does have good people and when we stick together we achieve the impossible.

10/15/20

Hi everyone, just wanted to update you all on the aviary takedown and this entire situation. We have successfully relocated the aviary to our friend's home a few hours away. It took us two days of taking it apart, getting some help with the lifting and then reassembling it at it's new location. It was a stressful time for the birds as they spent most of this time in their boxes and carriers. Their new safe haven is quiet and beautiful with lots of other animals such as chicken and ducks roaming in a private yard. If you recall, this is the place we rehomed Sophie (renamed Quinn) when Tutu couldn't get along with him. The last pics and videos show the aviary that Quinn lives in with friends. Our birds are being kept at this location while we secure safe homes for them. Our friend is very kind and is making updates to the aviary to make it more spacious, since the birds are a bit cramped. Here, we had an indoor room that they used as well. In the video you can see that we installed a smaller cage to the end of the aviary which the birds seem to be enjoying. With regards to adoptions, we have secured a handful of new homes and even found a great person in CA willing to adopt most of our babies. Our special needs birds such as Beaker remain upstate and have vet appointments coming up. Dove (the beautiful white wedding release bird) has been successfully rehomed after recovering from her sickness. This week we are planning to rehome in NC and GA and are driving down from NJ. Next week we will rehome in CT. Finally, we still need to raise enough money to take the week long trip to CA.

10/16/20

Hi friends, our babies are being pampered in their foster home. We've installed an extra flight cage to make them more comfortable since they've been a bit cramped in the aviary without their indoor room. Look how everyone is settling in. We estimate that it will be a few weeks before we can make our CA trip where almost all of our remaining birds are being rehomed. We still have 6 birds upstate recovering and not yet ready for adoption. Recently Dove (the wedding release pigeon) was adopted out! For us to make the Cali trip, we need to reserve an RV since it's roughly 5 days of driving each way. It will be quite impossible to check into a hotel with our birds. 😅 We will also need the room for several cages and to be able to clean the cages and keep everyone happy and fed. We need to purchase more cages and pads. The rental costs $200 a day, plus gas/tolls. We have donations saved but estimate we need another $1,700 to make this trip happen. Please help us by donating or sharing our GoFundMe campaign (link in Bio).

10/17/20

Rehoming Trip Day 1: We are driving South to North Carolina today and rehoming some of our turtles in a beautiful pond setup (we've rescued 13 turtles through the years). @tani.turtle. We will then continue down to South Carolina where we should arrive by midnight. We are driving 12 hour days this weekend. Tomorrow we plan to rehome another turtle and also our pigeons in Georgia before heading back up to SC again for the night. Day 3 will consist of driving back home. In the meantime, we have tons of cameras set up so we can keep an eye on everyone at home and so we can talk to Tutu through the monitor. Thank you all for chipping in and help us fund our trip down South. We plan to make a couple trips to rehome more locally in Connecticut and keep saving up for our Cali trip which should conclude our rehoming. From there we will continue to place our special needs birds as they complete their recovery. 

We have quarantine spaces open here at The Ramsey Loft, if needed, but they seem to have fosters covered and, understandably, they would prefer their remaining pigeons to go straight to their adoptive homes.

If any one is looking to adopt a pigeon, please contact them via  Facebook messenger (https://m.me/yazmin.feliz) instagram page (@tutu.pigeon), or text  646-705-8047

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children Ch. 3

In which: Danny getting yeeted into the Lazarus Pit yields anticlimactic consequences and Bruce Wayne converses with a fruit loop.

AO3 | Prologue | 2 | [ 3 ] | 4 |

DANIEL BARELY HAD TIME TO SCREAM before he’s plunged into the green depths of the Lazarus pit, primeval waves crashing against the walls of the pool. Talia flicked her wrist, signaling the ten League members hidden in the shadows to approach. Each one spaced equally apart around the pit with smoke pellets synthesized from blood blossoms held in their hands, ready to drop at a moment’s notice.

Pit madness rendered the majority of the living uncontrollable, with even the weakest of humans imbued with a strength that could only be induced by the purest of rage. The League was not taking chances as to how a being like her son would react to it.

The waters stilled.

Then—

A bright flash of light. Then, faster than the eyes could follow, a figure erupted from the waters. Bone white hair that twisted and curled as if it were still underwater. Skin lightly tinged frostbitten blue and clad in a suit of black and white and shrouded in an aura of blinding light. Phantom appeared from the depths, floating above the pit like a god reborn.

His eyes burned a toxic green.

“What the fuck was that?”

But not pit madness green.

Talia ordered her assassins to at ease with a raise of her hand. She slowly walked to her father’s side just as her son—Phantom—landed at the edge of the pool. Idly, Talia noticed how different Phantom seemed in comparison to her son. Physical attributes aside, Daniel tended to make himself smaller. What venom that may coat his words and the vitriol in his glares dampened by the way he held himself. Shoulders hunched and head tilted down. Non-threatening. Hands always needing to do something, whether it be holding his arms or shoved inside his pockets or constantly brushing it through his hair. No matter how she and his instructors taught him how to hold himself like a warrior, like a soldier, he still tended to present himself as a skittering little animal.

Phantom was different. He squared his soldiers and lifted his chin high, unafraid to stretch out to his fullest height and use his defiance of gravity to make himself look bigger. Stronger. His arms held steady at his sides, curled into tight fists. Green eyes—green as the Lazarus pit yet without that spark of madness that so consumed everyone else—burning with righteous fury.

“You fucking threw me into the weird green pool. What even—who does that?”

Ra’s tilted his head. “Fascinating. It seems you have a resistance to the pit madness.”

Phantom blinked, caught off guard. “Pit…madness,” he echoed. A statement, though from the wrinkle in his brows and the look he shoots Talia, it was more a question than anything else.

“It is one of the side effects of the Lazarus pits.” Talia approached her son with caution, holding his face with both hands and inspecting for any differences. “While the waters rejuvenate, restore, and even temporarily imbue one with supernatural strength, it also tends to inflict users with temporary insanity.”

“Insanity?” His eyes widened, trembling hands coming up to hold her wrists. Strangely, Daniel did not pull away from her touch. “I could have gone insane?”

Those bright eyes of his looked so frightened. Haunted. Pupils dilated to mere pinpricks of blackness, lost in a sea of Lazarus green. “Oh habeebi, only temporarily.”

“Like that’s better!” He yelled. “Even temporarily, I’m—” He staggered back, breaking out of her hold. Harmless Danny Fenton bleeding into proud Phantom as he ran his hands through his hair, unwilling to look at anyone.

Ra’s continued to watch, his arms crossed beneath his sternum, muttering to himself. Her father had prided himself on being one of the most knowledgeable about the Lazarus pits and its effects. Now, faced with a new mystery, the scholar within the Demon’s Head emerged as he observed his grandson.

“No,” Ra’s said, mostly to himself. “Perhaps less of a ‘resistance’ and more of an ‘immunity’ to it, given how both Daniel and the Lazarus pit have similar compositions. It would be a fascinating tangent to follow.” He chuckled to himself. “How droll. The life-restoring Lazarus pit holding a connection to the land of the dead.”

Talia turned to her father. “So, Daniel will not feel any of the pit’s side effects, then?”

Daniel perked up at the sound of his name, halting in his pacing. “I…might not go insane?”

“Perhaps, though it is too soon to tell. You have the waters of the Lazarus pit flowing through your veins, Daniel.” Ra’s smiled; eyes gleaming with the sparks of pride. “You and it are made of the same chemicals, the same reality-defying compounds that can bring the dead back to life.”

“Well, great. I have the same chemical makeup as a glowing hot tub, what else is new—” Her son staggered, and she caught him. Impossibly bright rings formed at his abdomen and then split, transforming Phantom back into a human. Mortal. His face haggard and sweating from the temples, eyes back to her beloved’s pale blues.

Her father did not bat an eye. “The pit’s healing effects are slowed down, then? Or perhaps it is because he has no wounds to heal?” Ra’s hummed; chin cradled in his hand. “Set him back into the pits, Talia. I believe young Daniel has yet to absorb all his needed energy.”

“Sure, yeah, that’s fine. Put me back in the crazy water, why not?” Daniel tugged at her shoulders. “Just…gently, please?”

Talia smoothed down his dark hair with a smile. “Of course, habeebi. I will even stay with you as well.”

When he looked at her, it was something almost akin to gratefulness.

------

In Gotham City, the upper echelons of society gather together at the Gotham Expo Center. The shining halls, which had been used as the site of a week-long exhibition of new scientific research, was reoutfitted to serve as the venue for the exhibition’s final event.

A gala. The hunting ground of the nouveau riche and old money families. Corporate moguls and debutants made their rounds across the floor, chatting with heirs and politicians and the who’s who of the upper class.

Scientists and researchers attempted to step out of their shells and dazzle the crowds. Wanting to fish a willing patron with deep pockets to fund their next project. Reporters huddled together like schools of fish, warily approaching the predators in their midst for a question or a photo. Both things many of the wealthy and affluent are easily ready to give, as long as it only showed off their best side in tomorrow’s society papers.

Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham, and society’s darling observed everything as he always did, in that most people believed he barely noticed anything beyond what’s right in front of him. He raised the flute glass of champagne to his lips, pretending to take a sip as he listened to the chatter of sycophants around him. A few were even some promising researchers of which he made a mental note to pass along to Lucius.

Two nights ago, Bruce received a tip of unusual movements from the League of Assassins. The organization had been quiet as of late, and while Bruce had been very carefully monitoring their activities in the background, the sudden tightening of their security prompted him to take a closer look.

There had been sightings of the League of Assassins centered around a small town in Illinois—Amity Park. A rural tourist trap championing itself as the most haunted place in America. Something that Bruce would normally scoff at or zealously research about if not for John Constantine’s warning to “never go within a ten-mile radius of that hellhole.” With similar sentiments from others in the occult community, the Justice League decided to take that warning to heart. Bruce’s curiosity may have been piqued, but even he was tactful enough to avoid courting more trouble.

Suffice to say, Bruce—and especially Batman—could not afford to ignore Ra’s al Ghul’s movements. Whatever his plans were involved whatever anomalies were going on in Amity Park. And wasn’t it simply serendipitous that one of the guest lists for tonight’s gala was Vlad Masters, the mayor of Amity Park?

“Vlad Masters, is that you?” Bruce, slapping on his signature Brucie smile, masterfully detached himself from his previous group, quickly heading towards the nearby bar where he spotted Vlad getting another drink.

“Why, Bruce Wayne, it’s been so long!” The two shook hands, of which Bruce was slightly surprised at how cold to the touch Vlad was. A health condition, perhaps. Then again, there was something in Vlad’s appearance and stature that spoke of a deeper reason.

“It’s been, what, two years? What brings you to Gotham?”

“Business; the usual really.” Despite whatever friendly aura they’re projecting, Bruce Wayne and Vlad Masters weren’t friends. More acquaintances that have been forced to mingle a few times because of the nature of their business and the demands of high society. From what Bruce knows, Vlad is a business tycoon that’s as blindingly charismatic as he was infamous for his quick rise to wealth and a few rather shady dealings.

Bruce stuck his hand in his pocket. “Well Vlad, last we all heard was you dipping your toes into politics. You’re a, uh, what, a governor?”

Vlad let out an obviously fake chuckle. “Oh nothing as grand as that. I’m only a small-town mayor, really.”

“Right!” Bruce snapped his fingers. “So, what’s that like?”

“Oh dreadful work, really. So much paperwork, so many things to do or oversee, but rewarding in its own way.” He puffed out his chest. “Many of the people in Amity Park do rely on me, you know. Though I’m afraid my schedule’s busy enough that I barely have time to go home!”

“Well, we’re very happy that you made room enough to visit us here in Gotham.”

Bruce sensed Damian coming to stand beside him and instinctually placed a hand around his shoulder. Though his youngest had been steadily adjusting to his new life here in Gotham, he still preferred to stick to his father’s shadow than mingle with those of his own age groups at galas. (Then again, Bruce was very similar when he was younger so perhaps it was a genetic thing).

He smiled down at Damian—frowning as he’d rather be patrolling the streets in uniform as opposed to schmoozing with people he hardly cared about. “Have you met my son, Vlad? Damian, this is Vlad Masters, a business partner and a, uh—” He scrunched his face, pretending to remember what Vlad’s current occupation is. “Mayor of some small town out west.”

Bruce turned to look at Vlad, expecting to see some variation of ‘insulted but trying to keep up a polite façade’—only to freeze.

Vlad’s face paled considerably. His beady eyes comically wide as he looked at Damian, the fingers curled around the stem of his flute glass bone white. Damian, unnerved, steadied his stance but shifted minutely closer to Bruce.

Well, this was interesting. “You alright, Vlad? You looked like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

Vlad jerked his head towards Bruce. Surprise—and fear? —contorted his features for a brief moment before smoothed back down into a proper mask. “Mayor of Amity Park, yes. My apologies,” he chuckled. “Young—Damian, was it? —only reminded me of someone I knew once.” He shifted his gaze back to Damian. “The resemblance is actually quite uncanny.”

Damian furrowed his brows. “Amity Park?”

“You’ve heard of it, Damian?”

“I would be surprised if you did.” Vlad masters took a small ship of his champagne. “Then again, it should be expected that you might have heard of it. The town does love it’s ghosts.”

Bruce laughed. “What, like Casper?”

“Something like that, yes.” There’s a tightness to Vlad’s voice. “Amity Park is its own breed of strange. We’ve handled things well enough on our own in the past, and quite honestly you get used to all of the spooks eventually. Though I must say the shadows are quite new—I’d often ask myself if I should petition your city’s vigilante and put him on the case.

“Shadows?”

Vlad easy smile shifted into a faint grimace. “They have a rather nasty habit of snooping.”

------

Despite Bruce and Damian’s attempt at plying Vlad for more answers, Vlad kept his mouth shut, evading questions and changing topics skillfully. Something that only raised Bruce’s alarm that something was going on.

“So,” Bruce unbuttoned his suit as he stepped into the car, “How did you hear of Amity, Damian? Ghosts and ghouls don’t exactly seem like something you’d be interested in.”

He waited for Damian to buckle his seatbelt before shifting the Bentley into drive and pulling out of the Expo. They had stayed at the gala long enough, making their rounds and giving the media enough for a headline in the society pages.

Damian rested his hand against the window. His face scrunched as he watched the looming facades of Gotham’s architecture pass by. “Mother mentioned the name once or twice,” he said. “I was not…privy to every operation that happened in the League, so I don’t know anything despite that my grandfather took an interest in Amity.”

“And I’m sure that from Masters’ odd phrasing, Ra’s didn’t just magically lose that interest either.” He narrowed his eyes. “Contact Oracle and have her dig up everything we need to know about the situation in Amity Park. I think it’s time Batman made his introductions to some out-of-town guests.”

[petri808]

Bakudeku canon divergent, vampire quirk AU

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

When Bakugou finally woke up in the Ena City Hospital, his head was splitting worse than a punch from Kirishima in full quirk, and ears rang with the force of all 108 New Year’s bell tolls. If he’d had no memory of the night before, Bakugou swore he’d just survived the worst hangover in history. Even his eyes hurt from the bright, piercing fluorescent lights and they weren’t even open! He turned his head to the side, noticing how much effort it took just to shift in such a small manner. It was as if his body was drained of... “Ugh, that bastard,” he groaned. ‘Fucker bit me.’ And as if to add insult to injury, a pin-prick pain in his neck revealed itself in that revelation.

His arm flopped up, hand straining with jerky strokes, reaching to touch the fresh bite wound located at the junction of his neck and shoulder. He flinched at the tender, bruising pain that sent a shock down his spine. Son-of— This just in! Pro Hero Dynamite cast in one of those cliché vampire movies that went straight to video. Definitely not the career start he’d envisioned.

“Oh, good you’re finally awake Mr. Bakugou.”

“Who the fuck are you?” he spat at the male voice. “And can someone turn the fucking lights off?!”

“I am Doctor Ishihira, and my apologies,” the doctor flicked off the overhead light. “Is that better?”

“Yeah,” he grumped.

“Mr. Bakugou, you were found yesterday morning and brought in suffering from hypovolemic shock due to severe blood loss and dehydration. We’ve treated you with 3 liters of IV fluids and blood plasma to bring your numbers back up, however you’ll still be groggy until your body replenishes the nutrients you were stripped of.”

Over a day had passed! At hearing he’d been out cold for so long, Bakugou immediately clenched his fists, swearing up and down about being released until they threatened to sedate him for longer. Longer?! He begrudgingly relented and settled down, but damn it! That meant Midoriya had another head start on him again! And now that the man knew he was on his trail, finding him would be a lot more difficult!

“What the hell is hypo-whatever shock?” Bakugou questioned.

“When you were found, you were in and out of consciousness and rambling incoherently, all signs of severe blood loss. The fatigue you’re still feeling is also due to the effects of it. Luckily the amount of loss wasn’t enough to start shutting down your organs.”

The doctor continued explaining a few more details regardless of the tantrum like a robot. Minor injuries he’d been treated for. The obvious puncture wounds in his neck, questioning Bakugou about any description he could provide of his attacker. He wasn’t about to tell this doctor or any authority figure who the true culprit was, so he feigned a temporary retrograde amnesia. Based on a raised brow, peering over his glass’s expression, the doctor didn’t look very convinced. Oh well, Bakugou really didn’t care about the man’s opinion.

“Mr. Bakugou, we also called you parents…”

“You what?!” Bakugou tried to jump off the bed, but his body absolutely refused to respond and ended up flopping like a dying fish. Ugh! He really was worse off than he’d thought.

“I’m sorry, but you are a minor, so we were obligated to do so. However, they did give us permission to treat and release you on your own recognizance once we felt you were better.”

Well, that was good news. ‘Sounds like mom actually listened to my letter.’ Or the authorities surely would have shown up by now. “Ugh! So, how much longer am I stuck here?”

“If you continue to recover well, tomorrow morning.”

Fuck! Now a three-day head start! Just great, he groaned. Midoriya could get far away with that kind of a jump start. “Fine, whatever! Now go the fuck away.”

The doctor left the room after explaining how nurses will be monitoring his progress, but to also let them know if anything started to feel worse. They needed to know if he developed any lasting effects from organ damage. Once he was alone again, Bakugou rolled gingerly onto his side as his mind processed the new information. Whatever Midoriya had been hit with must be the cause of this weird blood thirst that resembled a goddamn vampire plot line. Perhaps the significance of the blood coloring in his eyes was a sign of that thirst taking hold? That’ll be a handy tell, too bad it seemed to appear within seconds of the next step.

But if Midoriya had just fed on a victim, and history showed at times, a span of days before the next incident, what had caused his friend to attack him so fast? Was this thirst like a hunger? And what happens when you exercise or exert yourself? You use up energy. ‘Duh, Katsuki.’ Fighting and expending all that energy must have triggered the attack. ‘Wow, it burns fast.’ That meant Midoriya probably struggled to control this thirst, and that’s why he was pleading for him to leave him alone. But sorry, he couldn’t do that. ‘Fucker shouldn’t have run!’ One way or another he is getting his friend back home where he belonged. In fact, this only made his drive to find Midoriya stronger because he felt like he was partially to blame for the predicament his friend was in. The guy had to be scared, freaked out, and lonely. Bakugou’s heart clenched at the thought. He knew his friend was a social person by nature who loved being around friends and family. To be stuck out here all by himself and too frightened because of whatever this new quirk was had to be horrible… and utterly not fair. Of course, he did have a tendency to isolate himself when he feared…

Bakugou groaned. “Kami, not again with this shit!” When was Midoriya gonna learn to stop running away!

As his eyes relented to the fatigue and his mind slipped back into unconsciousness, Bakugou could only pray he’ll get a lead as soon as he got out of this hospital. This strange new quirk, if that’s really what it was, posed a serious danger not only to Midoriya, but the public. The reputation of pro hero’s had taken a major hit already because of AFO and the league, so if the public found out about a blood drinking hero attacking people… ‘I gotta get you out of here…’

After his encounter with Bakugou, Midoriya had rushed out of town as quickly as possible. Tears poured down his cheeks as he took off into the sky from having given in to the lust of this uncontrollable quirk. But he couldn’t stop it even if he’d wanted to. He’d learned the hard way right at the beginning that once it took hold of his mind, the only thing he could do was give-in or succumb to an even worse ravenous state that literally hurt. The pain of holding out on the hunger made him feel like a starved predatory animal that tore at his insides until he relented. In this state, the blood of any creature that came too close became a meal. But it was never enough. Animal blood didn’t satiate him in the same way that human blood did. Plus, he worried that if he let it get completely out of control, he might just end up killing someone. So far, he’d been lucky to leave them all unconscious but alive.

It was obvious that the light AFO had hit him with contained this strange quirk. How ironic, to take down a villain, only to be turned into one. That’s how Midoriya felt. How else could he feel? A hero wouldn’t hurt other people, so by taking the blood of others for sustenance, that made him a villain. Therefore, he couldn’t be a hero anymore. It must have been AFO’s plan all along once he’d realized he was losing. The villains end goal was to ruin hero society and this was definitely one way to do it. Take out his primary rival. The man poised to carry on a torch of safety and security, and snuff out any who chose to do harm… The whole situation with Bakugou really turned this into a nightmare out of body experience. To see his friend’s eyes suddenly show fear, then fade away the more he drank… his mouth clamped to the man’s neck… it was a horrible imagine that was sure to haunt him. He could still smell the burnt cinnamon from such a close encounter. If only he had clothes to change into or even a pond to bathe in, because that lingering scent was gonna drive him mad!

Midoriya curled up and clenched his eyes shut tight in an abandoned and overgrown castle he’d found outside of Ena. It didn’t look like it’s been maintained for a very long time, so the likelihood of a human showing up seemed low. He knew he should have travelled farther away, but he was too tired, too upset and just wanted to quit. All the years of growing up quirkless, to gain OFA and become the very thing he’d dreamt of, only for those dreams to be dashed again. It was as if life just didn’t want him to be a real hero. Maybe he should just put himself out of his misery, and yet— he couldn’t do it. To die out here alone where no one knew where he was or what had become of him, that wasn’t fair to his family and friends…

They must be so worried about him right now. His poor mother didn’t deserve any of this. Would his friends look down on him now? And All Might, his idol, who’d taken him under his wing, was he disappointed? And that just left Bakugou. He’d said the truth in answering the man’s question. No, Midoriya never would have expected him to come looking. Katsuki Bakugou giving a damn about him? Yeah, right. Bakugou wasn’t doing this because he cared. There was always a selfish reason behind his madness. Fear. Anger. Jealousy. Shouldn’t big bad Dynamight be thrilled that his biggest rival was gone?

Okay that was a big, fat white lie he’d been telling himself for the last two years. He knew Bakugou had moved past those pettier behaviors, but it was simply easier to believe and keep their relationship as rivals than to hope his childhood friend would ever see him as something else. And yet… ‘Kacchan was genuinely surprised by my answer. Did he really come looking for me because he cared that much?’ Yet in what way? Why was the man trying so hard? Did he… ‘miss me?’

Midoriya shook his head violently of those thoughts. No, no, he didn’t want to believe that because it would make this situation even more unbearable than it already was! He’d already given up everything he’d ever loved. His hopes and dreams, a future and losing an affection he’d craved for years would just simply be too much.

[xiaomoxu]

MLQC CN Lucien (Xu Mo) Recollection Date Part 1 & 2

SPOILER ALERT!!

It's Xu Mo Birthday Date which has released on CN server. I'm doing translation for personal reason, so I'm sorry if there's some mistranslation. Kindly tell me if you found some :) feel free for read it~ ^^

PART 1

Today is Xu Mo’s birthday. What is different from the past is that today is also a more special day one by one

In the morning of this day, Xu Mo will report on the topics he has studied for many years.

A string of large characters is displayed on the screen—"Brain injury patients' cognitive changes to different emotions and intervention measures for emotion recognition after injury"

I sat quietly at the back of the lecture hall, watching the scholars walk into the lecture hall one after another.

After getting to know Xu Mo, I know that he has always been studying things.

Although I don't know much about his subject, through the whispers of the audience, I know that this is one of the major issues that have been deeply valued and unresolved in the brain science community.

Xu Mo in a formal suit stood on the stage. He looked down in a circle, paused for a few seconds while looking in the direction where I was, then walked to the podium.

Xu Mo: About twenty years ago, Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI)—Emotional cognition caused by traumatic brain injury is a problem that is not of much concern to everyone.

Xu Mo: Usually people feel that this is a small burden brought about by the treatment experience or the psychological changes of the patient himself.

Xu Mo: In a 2012 study, it is estimated that 54-60 million people worldwide suffer from TBI every year, and 2.2-3,600,000 people suffer from moderate to severe damage every year.

Xu Mo: In recent years, with the advancement of technology, we have been able to monitor changes in various physical data of patients with brain injury through the use of high-end equipment.

Xu Mo: We found that emotional changes—the traditional psychological cognition may be caused by physiological changes in the patient’s brain itself.

Xu Mo: Therefore, we follow this line of thinking to conduct in-depth research on the mechanism of emotional and cognitive changes in TBI patients to determine the principle of change.

Xu Mo: According to the guidance of the research results, intervention measures for post-injury emotion recognition for TBI patients were also formulated.

Xu Mo calmly and deliberately dropped every character. As he spoke, the report on the screen was displayed page by page.

The people at the bottom of the venue were quiet. Except for Xu Mo's report, there was only the rustle of pages turning.

Xu Mo: People with TBI may also increase their anxiety after maintaining TBI. After TBI, anxiety may exacerbate other cognitive dysfunctions.

Xu Mo: For example, the ability to recognize emotions.

Xu Mo: Compared with positive emotions, it is more difficult for people with TBI to recognize negative emotions such as anger, fear, and sadness.

Xu Mo: Next, I will introduce based on the data of 25 participants in the research group.

With the large lecture hall, scholars and researchers from all over the world are witnessing how this long-term research has reached this moment step by step.

In the last row of the lecture hall, I secretly photographed Xu Mo of today and inserted it into our third volume commemorative album.

PART 2

It was noon when Xu Mo left the report building.

I left the venue early and waited at the door with a box of cakes and a bunch of flowers. While seeing him, I solemnly handed over the bouquet.

MC: Professor Xu, good work.

Xu Mo glanced at the cake box in my hand, his eyes fell on my calm face, and he bent his eyes thoughtfully before taking the bouquet.

Xu Mo: Are you not planning to "surprise" this year's gifts?

MC: This bouquet of flowers is a gift for Professor Xu's hard work, not a birthday gift~

I smiled and raised the cake box in my hand, looking at Xu Mo sincerely and directly.

MC: But sometimes, the "surprise" that is not "surprise" has more unexpected magical effects.

MC: Anyway, you will guess at the end of every little action of mine, so it's better to go the other way and be more generous.

MC: I hope this year’s customized birthday, everything will start with you.

Xu Mo: So... what can I do today?

His voice was a little low, contained in the autumn breeze, like a leaf that kissed the water.

Meeting his gaze, I nodded happily.

MC: Today is the third birthday I celebrated for you, and it is the day when your years of research has a temporary end.

MC: Your mood is the most important on such a special day

MC: I want to accompany you to do all you want to do, not let you meet my expectations.

MC: In order to deal with various special situations, I have done special heat preservation and storage for the cake box.

Xu Mo: If I want to do a lot, will it be too troublesome?

MC: The birthday is to accept all the kindness of others.

Xu Mo: So what if there are a lot of things and can't finish it today?

MC: Then we will continue to do it tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow. Anyway, we have a lot of time.

MC: So you don't have to think too much, you can do whatever you want.

Xu Mo slowly lowered his eyes after hearing my answer, and lowered his eyes, not knowing what he was thinking.

A few days before the report, Xu Mo was slightly silent. At that time, I didn't ask much, just stayed quietly by his side.

With autumn leaves rustling, Xu Mo raised his hand to straighten my hair tossed by the wind, and then put his forehead against my forehead.

Xu Mo: That....

Xu Mo: Can you not be happy?

A few words whispered quietly from my ear, and I was a little surprised.

Xu Mo's expression was still very pale, the corners of his raised mouth kept a fixed arc, and his eyes brightened by the autumn light looked straight at me.

Like sneaking out of the shell, some expectation, and some unknown heaviness and panic.

I couldn't help taking a breath. The cold green grass and the fragrance of flowers filled my heart and lungs together.

MC: of course can.

Xu Mo's breathing stopped for a moment after hearing my answer

MC: Although I very much hope that you will be happy on your birthday.

MC: But if you are unhappy, I will be unhappy with you.

MC: I will spend all the unhappy time with you and wait for the moment when happiness comes.

"Happy birthday" should be a blessing, not a shackle.

Xu Mo smiled. The bright autumn colors covered his eyes, like the moment he explained the conclusion just on stage.

I shook the cake box and tilted my head.

MC: So, where does Professor Xu want to spend his special day?

He raised his head and looked deeply into the distance.

Xu Mo: I thought of a special place, but it was a bit far away.

Xu Mo: Would you like to walk with me?

MC: of course!

After a few hours' drive, we came to an old street.

Although it is an old street, it is constantly being repaired and refurbished.

I visited the neighborhood once when I was very young. Today's street scene is completely different from my vague memory.

People's vague and soft memories of the old city will always fade away with the renovation of every stone tile, every hawker who has been organized.

Until one day, Quiet City was silent in time.

Xu Mo's memory has always been very good, but this time it seems to be slightly slow.

He would stop at a certain street corner and look at it lightly; he would also quietly look around at the fork, as if the choice was not in his memory.

I followed him quietly, following the paved road. We climbed the ramp and went around for a long time.

After a while, Xu Mo finally stopped.

Before us, there is a silent open space.

I secretly looked at Xu Mo and saw that his expression was still clear light.

It is like looking into the distance without seeing the weight, looking at someone outside of time through this open space.

I retracted my gaze and looked at the clearing in front of me. I always felt that I could faintly guess where it was.

Xu Mo: MC, let's sit there for a while.

Xu Mo pointed to a bench facing the open space, took my hand and sat on it with him.

The noon in late autumn was a bit cold, and the whole world was so quiet that there was only breathing. The exhaled white mist whirled in the air and disappeared silently.

I looked at the open space, wantonly imagine what it once looked like.

Maybe it used to be the kind of small bungalows from the old days, there may be a small courtyard...

Xu Mo: There used to be a small bungalow like the old one. Do you know what it looks like?

Xu Mo's voice suddenly sounded, and I was shocked, and for a moment I thought that my imagination had a sound.

MC: I saw this kind of house when I was a kid, but I can't remember exactly.

Xu Mo: The bricks of the house are a little mottled white, and the roof is covered with red tiles.

Xu Mo: Because it is on a hillside, it often winds up

Xu Mo: On special days, rows of small blue and white flags will be hung on the eaves. When the wind is blowing, sitting in the courtyard and looking up is very beautiful.

Following Xu Mo's description, I closed my eyes looking at the open space and imagined the small white brick and red tiled house.

I felt Xu Mo holding my hand, and he put his fingers between mine, bringing our ten fingers together tightly.

I was about to open my eyes, but Xu Mo's voice continued

Xu Mo: Push the door outside and you can walk into the yard.

MC: Will there be flowers in the yard?

Xu Mo: Yes, there is a row of small flower beds on the left, but the owner is always a bit busy and often forgets to water.

Xu Mo: So they don’t look so healthy.

Xu Mo: The door of the room is in front of you, when the door opens you will have a "squeak" sound.

I nodded subconsciously, feeling as if I really walked through the small yard and opened the door.

Some stale air is opened along with the door, and together with the gentle memory, it welcomes the long-lost return.

-Part 3 and 4 will be updated.-

[capricornus-rex]

Someone Left to Save (6)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

A/N: Sorry if I haven’t been uploading as quick as I used to. I’m not in a good place right now mentally. I’ve had random crying episodes that rooted from last night’s breakdown, I’m stuck dealing with overbearing parents who don’t understand and can’t be bothered to take in the time to listen to their kid. I had to look for that from my friends who really know and understand me. It’s really hard. Because what do you do when your boomer, overly-traditional parents misinterpret your artworks and then drag you down for it? But I’m trying my best to fight it off and be better, so I can still give you guys good stories. I’ll get through it, I’ll be better eventually. So, if my posting frequency seems slow, I hope you understand. Thank you for your continuous support! You guys are the greatest. Love, Veron.

Tags: Force-Sensitive! Reader, Inquisitor! Reader, Jedi! Reader, Fake Death, Jedi turned Inquisitor, Seduction to the Dark Side, Turn to the Dark Side, The Dark Side of the Force, Aftermath of Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Redemption Arc! Reader, Possible Redemption, Premonitions

Also in AO3

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6 of ?

In the span of three weeks, you and the Second Brother were in constant observation by the medical droids—encoding and then relaying their findings to the doctors who occasionally visited you every other day. A medical droid reports that you might open your eyes perhaps at the end of the week. The same goes for the Second Brother, despite his severe injuries and that tedious surgical operation that he underwent.

When the third and a last week came, you did open your eyes. The Bacta-infused water stung your eyes and you realize you’re submerged—by instinct, you held your breath, unaware that you have a medical breather on until you bit on its silicon mouthpiece, you felt the rather uncomfortable armbands on your pruning skin. Through the glass of the vat you’re encased in, a medical droid hovers in front of you.

In confusion, your heart rate spiked—reflecting on the heart monitor just right next to the tank—but the droid wasn’t alarmed. It deduced it as a natural, conscious bodily response. The medical droid tapped hurriedly on its dapatad; shortly after, a doctor comes rushing into the ward, he approaches the vat to look at you.

Peering again through the glass, you can see through your squinting—and already stinging—eyes that the doctor’s mouth is moving, but the bubbling of the substances shrouded your hearing from any outside noise.

“Prepare to drain the patient’s Bacta vat,”

A loud rumble echoed in the back of your ears, your head jerked up to the source of the sound and saw the water level lowering. As the substance fell to the level of your breasts, you mentally prepare yourself to plant your feet on the floor and your palms to the walls of the tank once you needed to balance and support yourself.

Finally, the tank has been emptied—the remaining liquid gurgled under your feet as it disappeared into the drain. The glass whirred as it retracted into its round, metal frame and then the nurses helped your balance yourself. Their faint whispers of encouragement rang indistinctly in your ears.

“Hello there, can you hear me well?” asked the doctor.

“I… I suppose,” you groaned, hooking your grip on the nurse’s arm. You looked at your surroundings. “Where am I?”

“You’re in a medical facility, in Mons Golotha,”

“Mons Golotha? Where is that?”

“In the Outer Rim. Don’t worry, you’re safe here. We’ve been helping you recover,”

“It looks like you had quite a dangerous brush with death there,” the nurse added.

Still confused, you surveyed the room further—there were more droids manning the computers and the machines. It appears that you’re the only patient in this room. You blinked several times until your eyes adjusted to the light pooling in the dull, gray ward. Something didn’t sit right with you, but your waking up gave you a bit of a hangover that you can’t pinpoint it. Little did you know that the Second Brother is still submerged in his own tank in his own room and that you are in Inquisitor—rather, Imperial—territory.

The Inquisitors were informed in the comfort of their temporary lodges that you’ve finally awakened. The Seventh Sister smirked with satisfaction, as if her work given by Grand Inquisitor is close to its completion. At her mercy, she allowed you until tomorrow to rest, after that you will be sedated and transported to   the main fortress; when she finished hearing the report, she resumed her meditation in peace.

You stayed in bed, fed with three square meals, regularly checked for your vitals, temperature, blood pressure and the like—this was your entire routine for a day and half.

The Seventh Sister’s given timetable is due. As a way to not startle you, the doctor was very subtle on your sedation in the guise of a treatment.

“Alright, [Y/N], the vapor that’ll flow out of this mask when you wear it will dissolve the smoke and particles that may have polluted your lungs when you inhaled the smoke from your accident,”

You nodded, “Okay.”

You lied down flat on your back first, then the doctor gingerly placed the transparent mask, then the medical droid switched on the machine at the doctor’s command. It growled and the vapor hissed through the tube up to your nose and mouth; the sound sort of lulled you to boredom, you thought that it was a hypnotizing sound that you slowly let your eyelids drop and lean your head further into the pillow.

“Just a few more milliliters until she’s fully sedated,” the doctor mouthed to himself, watching you lie perfectly still in your bed.

Ten minutes later, the medical droid’s readings indicate that you’re now asleep.

“Vitals are still at a normal and optimum level, she is amenable for transfer,” the medical droid added.

Through his own comlink, the doctor contacted the Seventh Sister.

“Is she really unconscious now?”

“Yes, she won’t be able to recall a single thing before the sedation,”

“Good. Oversee the preparations for the transfer,”

The doctor nodded in compliance and the Seventh Sister switched off the transmission on her end. He immediately did as he was told and then you were transferred from your ward bed to the hovering gurney. It was a warden who escorted you to the main fortress, the apparatus used to administer the sedative is still attached to you as they wheeled you through the corridors.

—–

Eventually, you’ve arrived to the prison block. At the end of it is the torture chamber especially designated for you. The Seventh Sister and the Fifth Brother were waiting inside the chamber, they turned to the door when they heard it whir and found you still as a rock in that gurney.

“Put here in,” the Mirialan ordered.

The warden pulled the gurney closer to the torture chair—with its restraints wide open, like an animal’s maw waiting to snap shut once its prey has fallen in—and put you to the machine. The restraints clamped shut when the warden stepped back, the metal clanged so loud that it startled him, making his shoulders jump. The warden was dismissed immediately and left the chamber.

The sedative wore off by the minute, the intensity of the light shone differently than what you recalled, and now you find yourself unable to move—you flinch your wrists and ankles to find polished, silver handcuffs that are three inches thick banding around them. Leaning in front of you is the mechanical limb of the torture chair with panels running with electrical current; you attempt to sink yourself farther into the bed, and the cold metal stung through your bleach-white tunic that the nurses dressed on you. Your heartbeat spiked again, the Inquisitors can sense the fear oozing out of you.

The Seventh Sister stepped out of the shadows, hands tucked behind her back.

“Oh don’t bother fighting it off, it’s not like you have the strength to break out of that,”

Your eyebrows furrowed, struggling to recognize her.

“You’re an Inquisitor, but I… I’ve never seen you before,”

“Who I am to you is not important. You, on the other hand, know something we don’t—and we’d like you to let us in on that,”

“Oh I bet you do,” you spat.

The Seventh Sister liked your snark, she’ll give you that, but she didn’t like other people outclassing her. One flick of her finger and the Stormtrooper operating the machine flipped a switch; the limb with the electrical panels lowered closer to you until only an inch hangs between you and the bright, violet cracks.

In the next second, a jolt courses throughout your entire body. The metal cuffs on your wrists and ankles amplified the voltage and doubled the pain of the shock. You didn’t even get to take a deep breath, you were simply taken by surprise. The limb then retracted, returning to its original distance from you.

“She’s got a kick to it, doesn’t she? You’re gonna have more than just a kick if you don’t tell us what we want to hear,”

“I’ve had worse beatings!” you winced.

“I’ll bet you have, [Y/N],”

It didn’t matter how the Mirialan knew your name. She proceeded with your questions that you retorted with the perfect opposite of it—sarcasm.

“Tell us where the rebels are hiding, and we’ll let you go scot-free. We’ll even give you a headstart so you can warn your friends,”

“The last time someone gave me a bargain like that…” you panted, recovering from the shock. “They found my lightsaber sticking through their ribs.”

The Seventh Sister sighed.

This is gonna be a long day… but I don’t mind. She thought.

Hours dragged on as you kept yourself mum, filling in the blanks of their questions with sarcasm or straight-up refusals. But for every time you decided to keep your mouth shut about the location of the rebels who staged the bombing of their outpost in Ulfin, you were returned with a shock of the torture chair—the voltage became more powerful and lethal than the last.

“Impressive,” the Fifth Brother commented. “Not many can withstand this many hours, let alone that high of a voltage, in the chair.”

“Perhaps, there’s a better way of persuading you,” the Mirialan chided.

From her pocket, she fished out her holodisk. She thumbs the button and out comes a figurine-sized projection of Cal. The faintest, sharpest inhale from you wasn’t spared from the Inquisitor’s keen sense of hearing. She smirked and glanced at you.

“Oh, you know him, don’t you?”

You didn’t answer, but it already feels like the Seventh Sister has seen through your tough-faced façade.

“The longer you stay in this chair, the more likely my troops are capable of finding him. Who knows? I could bag a complete package if he was siding with the rebels the whole time. Definitely likely.”

The rage rooting from the pain and the Seventh Sister’s taunting flared in your body. The Mirialan could almost feel the blaze of that anger pouring out of you. She catches a whiff of it and was intrigued.

Your body impulsively leaned away from the backrest and strained yourself to get at least an inch closer to the Seventh Sister, but you’re nowhere even near six inches in front of her.

“IF YOU DO SO MUCH AS PUT A FINGERNAIL ON HIS HEAD, I’LL MAKE SURE YOU GET TWENTY TIMES THE PAIN YOU’RE GIVING ME NOW!!”

“Oh, there we go. Yes, use that hate, that anger!” the sheer adrenaline rush caused the Seventh Sister to slam her fist against the wall of the operating computer. “TELL ME WHERE THEY ARE!!”

“I…” you hissed. “Will never… TELL YOU!!”

The Seventh Sister eased her shoulders.

“So be it,” she jerked her head to the operator. “Again! And don’t stop until I say so!!”

Your shallow, rapid breathing didn’t save your lungs to overcome the pain sent by a thousand to ten thousands volts coursing through your body. Your throat strained as you cry in agony, your fingers twisted and curled as the tendrils of electricity violently pricked the nerves, your body thrashed in all angles trying to alleviate the pain but it’s as though several daggers entered and left your body repeatedly.

Your head jerks back, unable to withstand any more of the gradual pain the longer it dragged on. The only thing that filled your eyes was the lamp that hung overhead and the cracks of compacted lightning from the electrical panels. You don’t know how much your heart can take. At the Seventh Sister’s mercy, she shot her hand up—signaling to stop—the Stormtrooper obeyed; it only was a ten-second breather, and she asked again.

“Where are they hiding?”

“In a Bantha’s arse,” you gasped.

Seventh Sister scoffed, she snapped her fingers and the torture resumed. Your mischievous snickering at your own joke was instantly replaced by a wail of pain. The longer you remained in that torture chair, the more the Inquisitors saw your rage and hate crawling out of you—and they relished each waking minute the darkness seeps out of you.

In the midst of your screams echoing across the entire chamber, the Seventh Sister stepped back into the shadows to join the Fifth Brother. She stood on the tips of her toes to reach his height, close enough for him to hear her, and she whispered.

“She will be a good Inquisitor.”

There was no worded response, but the Fifth Brother smiled in agreement. The violet light of the electrical current flashing and pooling over the surface of their faces as they watched you at the mercy of the torture chair.

[shijiujun]

[ENG] History3: Trapped Novel - Chapter Ten

~7,000 words 

Translation Masterpost can be found here

Disclaimer: Translations are entirely mine and Wei’s - these are not official translations and some phrases have been changed for better English interpretation so you’ll definitely see better/different translations elsewhere. Also keeping in mind when we translated this we aren’t exactly thinking about the style of writing and this translation is as close to the novel as we can make it XD So yes, some parts may be a little awkward to read. And yes some teeny weeny details and words may not turn up in the translation because the Chi to Eng mind acrobatics didn’t work out. If you see asterisks, scroll all the way to the bottom for notes!

Full chapter below the cut

*Note: I didn’t translate about 4 pages of the smut scene, it was taking me a little too long and I decided to drop it, so you’ll have to find alternative sources for that, but it doesn’t really impact the story much XD

Chapter Ten

Hospital

Jiang Jin Tang walks towards Tang Yi who is seated on the bench, and sighs, “You look like you’re in worse shape than the one currently inside.”

“Is… Is he okay?”

“He’s not going to die anytime soon, but I severely suspect that Meng Shao Fei has issues elsewhere.”

“Where?”

Jin Tang, who usually speaks ill of others with ease, says, “His brain!”

Tang Yi glares at the man clad in a white doctor’s robe, and cannot be bothered to respond.

“That guy keeps getting hurt because of you, and he’s the one who actually got shot, but the first thing he does after waking up is to worry about you, if this isn’t brain damage, what else can it be?”

“...”

“Tang Yi, just because Meng Shao Fei didn’t die the first two times doesn’t mean he’ll be so fortunate the third time. I don’t want you to regret this for the rest of your life, so as your brother, there are still some things I have to say. Love is just like life itself. Sure it’s beautiful, but it can also disappear at any time, so if you treasure this relationship, you have to let go of that burden in your heart. You can’t keep putting him in a spot and making things difficult for him,” Jin Tang says, somber and patting Tang Yi firmly on the shoulder.

“Okay, hurry in and go see him! If anything else happens, just look for me.”

“Thank you.”

Jin Tang shakes his head and smiles, then picks his vibrating phone out from his pocket.

“Be good, Tang Tang! I’m now in Mali and once everyone in the team and the equipment arrive, we’ll set off. The first treasure I dig up I’ll show to you first, you can’t tell anyone, okay?”

As he watches the message Jiang Zhao Peng sent over, Jin Tang’s lips curve into an indulgent smile.

Inside the ward, Shao Fei, who has already woken up and heard the conversation outside, immediately rips off tubes linked to the machine monitoring his vital signs. He closes his eyes and pretends that he’s in a coma.

Beep-------

Tang Yi barely steps into the ward before the distress signal sounds, and the curved lines on the monitor screen visibly flatlines. Going white immediately, he rushes to the bed and just as he’s about to press the button to ask for help, the person lying in bed hugs him around his waist.

“You’re this worried about me?”

Tang Yi freezes in shock, and the hand reaching out for the button retracts. With a stern, angry look, he glares at Shao Fei, who is grinning and happy, “Aren’t you a little too happy for an injured person?”

“Aren’t you a little too angry for someone who’s my boyfriend?”

“Hmph!”

Still chuckling, Shao Fei pulls at Tang Yi’s sleeve, gesturing for him to sit at the side of his bed. Afraid that Shao Fei would tear out his stitches, Tang Yi does not dare resist and can only sit down, his bad mood apparent on his face. Shao Fei touches lightly at Tang Yi’s wrists where the metal handcuffs sit.

“Don’t be angry, it's a reflex for me to try and snatch a gun, or put myself in the way of a bullet. I’m a police officer, after all.”

“I’m angry at myself,” Tang Yi frowns, holding onto Shao Fei’s icy hands.

“Then it’s better for you to be angry at me! Even if we had to do this again, I would still do the same thing.”

“I know you’ve been trying to stop me from killing others.”

“That’s right. Li Zhen Jie said it before, revenge can only bring you temporary satisfaction, but the consequences you will face for your actions will haunt you for life, and it’ll cause pain to the people who love you.”

“That includes you?”

“Of course!” Shao Fei shoots Tang Yi a look out of the corner of his eye, and continues, “Let me ask you, why did you think Tang Guo Dong tasked you with reforming the gang?”

After a moment of silence, Tang Yi replies, “Lao Tang said he didn’t want the brothers to continue a life like this, where they wouldn’t know if they were going to live or die tomorrow. He wanted everyone to live normal lives.”

“And if you, as their leader, did something illegal, would your men still try to turn over a new leaf?”

“....”

Tang Yi stares at Shao Fei. He did not actually think this far.

“Tang Yi, revealing the truth to everyone, letting the culprit be punished under the law, that’s justice. That’s answering to the victims, but if you handle this on your own, all people will see is a gangster killing a cop, then what Zhou Guan Zhi did will be hidden forever. Is that what you want to see? Is this the Xing Tian Meng that Tang Guo Dong would have wanted to see?”

Tang Yi sighs, and says, “... I’ll hand He Hang over to the police.”

Shao Fei smiles as he looks at the man he’s so deeply in love with, waiting for him to continue.

“And Zhou Guan Zhi too.”

“Thank you, and…” Shao Fei reaches for Tang Yi’s face on his uninjured side, pressing close and kissing his lips.

Tang Yi’s eyes close as he accepts the kiss. It’s a kiss filled with gratitude, love and happiness.

Half a minute later, Shao Fei pulls back and gazes into Tang Yi’s open eyes. 

He says, “I love you!”

Knock knock.

Zhao Zi, who has been waiting for quite some time outside the hospital ward walks in. He looks at the man currently staring at Shao Fei, and reminds him, “Time’s up, Tang Yi, let’s go!”

He then takes out a jacket he prepared for this, covering Tang Yi’s hands to keep anyone from gossiping about his handcuffs if they see it while the both of them are walking out. However, Tang Yi simply shakes his head, standing up straight, and leaves the ward without turning back.

A room in a house

In an old, dilapidated room. Captain Shi sits in a corner looking at photos of his daughter in the wedding dress boutique on his phone. Two police officers in casual dress are guarding him nearby. One of them is scrolling through his phone, and the other one is resting with his eyes closed, seated on a chair with his arms crossed. 

A little while later, the doorbell rings. The man on his phone walks to the door, and lets the person on the other side of the door in after verifying his identity.

“Boss!” Shao Fei calls, wearing the $60,000 NTD suit he bought at Tang Yi’s store, in his hands a traditional wedding cake.

Captain Shi looks at the person who’s just come from a wedding eagerly, and asks, “How did it go?”

“You can see for yourself,” Shao Fei takes out his phone and plays the video he recorded of the wedding.

Slowly opening the banquet hall’s doors, the bride stands there alone without her father, a bouquet of flowers in her hands. Her makeup done up so beautifully, the woman glances down at the red carpet with red-rimmed eyes, pausing for a bit before looking up and smiling widely. She picks up her courage and takes the first step forward.

On both sides of the red carpet, her close friends scatter flower petals and pop party poppers, representing their well-wishes for the new couple. Under the eyes of the marriage officiant, the bridge and groom exchange rings, completing the wedding’s most important ritual.

Captain Shi looks at his daughter’s wedding video, and nods profusely with his eyes wet.

Shao Fei pulls a chair over so he’s sitting opposite Captain Shi, and places the wedding biscuits on the table. “Xiao Ya asked me to bring these to you, there’re biscuits, and also the tea you like to drink, and wedding photos.”

“Ah Fei… thank you…”

However, the man does not accept the gifts, as if afraid of dirtying the beauty and goodness of the moment with his hands that are awash with sin and guilt. Shao Fei looks at his Captain, who’s almost a shell of his usual self. 

The back of his nose burns as he says, “You and Li Zhen Jie have always been my role models and I have always believed in every single thing the both of you taught me. I remember the first day I joined the team, you told me that justice is just like lighting a lamp against the wind and police officers are the protectors of the lamp, so we have to be alert at all times. Because only when the lamp consistently lights up the path in front of us, can we then help others to walk down the correct path too. But you destroyed the person who was supposed to protect the lamp, tried to cover up the truth from four years ago and even allowed everyone to suspect Li Zhen Jie, and to point fingers at her.”

Captain Shi listens to the words he used to say, and lowers his gaze in remorse, “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. After all, having to choose between being a father and being a police officer, I selfishly chose to be a father.”

“Boss, do you regret it?”

The man shakes his head and replies bitterly, “When Ah Zhi told me four years ago that he killed Li Zhen and Tang Guo Dong, and destroyed the evidence after, I was relieved. If I didn’t have that sum of money that year, I wouldn’t have been able to see Xiao Ya on her wedding day.”

“Boss…”

Captain Shi looks at Shao Fei and with a complicated expression, he says, “Ah Fei, I actually resented you.”

Shao Fei returns the man’s gaze, stunned at the revelation.

“When everyone was no longer interested in the case at all, you were the only one persisting in bothering Tang Yi, insistent on finding out the truth, as if you weren’t afraid of standing on your own against the rest of the world.”

“But you never once truly stopped me.”

“Because I wanted to see just how long you would last. I even hoped that when you had to choose between justice and obstruction to that, you would choose to give up. Then at least I could comfort myself in the knowledge that you and I, we aren’t so different after all,” Captain Shi says in a self-deprecating manner, raising his head to look at the impulsive young man who really has caused him quite a lot of trouble up until now.

“Aren’t I really bad? I’d fallen, and wished that the people around me would be just like me. I’m sorry, the Captain you admired is actually such a despicable man.”

“No! Boss, you’re not,” Shao Fei stares at Captain Shi resolutely, finally saying the words he wanted to, hidden away under the guilt he felt, because he blamed himself too. “You didn’t stop me because you were waiting too, no, even anticipating the moment I would find the truth and expose you and Zhou Guan Zhi. It’s true that between being a father and being a police officer, you chose to be a good father, but you didn’t give up on the other part of you, the part that’s a police officer.”

Faced with Shao Fei’s understanding, Captain Shi, who has been suppressing all his emotions, finally lets his tears run free as he sobs, covering his face.

“If Li Zhen Jie was still alive, I don’t think she would have hated you. Though she might have kicked your ass,” Shao Fei jokes deliberately, trying to lighten the melancholic atmosphere between them and rubbing at his nose, his face full of tears too.

Captain Shi looks at the man sitting in front of him and recalls his colleague, the woman who worked harder than any other man he knew. 

His shoulders shake slightly as he says, “She wouldn’t have just beat me up, but scolded me too. She would have scolded me for living like a coward…”

Outside the room, the rays of the setting sun eventually shine over the both of them, but in the corners where the sunlight could not reach, darkness still remains. 

Before their meeting ends and just as Shao Fei is about to leave, Captain Shi suddenly moves in front of him.

“Shao Fei, I’m leaving Team Three in your hands,” he says knowingly, patting at Shao Fei’s shoulder.

Cemetery

Tang Yi stands before a gravestone and stares at the music box on the ground, before pulling out his lighter and lighting a cigarette at the side. From afar, Chen Wen Hao walks over with a bouquet of flowers, and after seeing Tang Yi, he hesitates. Then he walks over to the grave and places the bouquet on the flat surface.

“Li Zhen, I’m sorry… All these years, I vented my anger and hate on Tang Guo Dong, hating him for causing me to end up in jail, hating him for not stopping you from aborting the baby and even suspecting that he liked you. That day was the first day of my release from prison, but I saw the both of you together. That was the first time in 24 years we were meeting, but I didn’t expect it to be the last…”

“When I was younger, I didn’t have much money and when I gave you flowers I could give you only one stalk. How sad was that? But you always smiled so happily, so I thought, if I could earn more money I would be able to buy more flowers to make you happy. I ended up walking the wrong path, and didn’t dare to let you know, so I lied to you instead.”

“If that year, I chose differently, would you not have left me then? The three of us, a family, would we have been able to live like normal families, having meals at the dining table? Maybe we wouldn’t have had much money, but we would have led a normal, stable life… we would have also been… happy…”

He finishes his sentence and falls silent, his face filled with tears as he cries.

It is said that every person has to face the consequences of the decisions they make. Then, the price he paid in his lifetime was really just too much, too much…

Tang Yi walks over to Chen Wen Hao’s side, and places the lighter before the gravestone. To the photo on the stone, he says, “After you gave me up for adoption, I ran away from home because of my relationship with my adoptive father, and then I was given a home by Tang-ye. He loved and doted on me as if I was his biological son. Don’t worry, I’ll continue reforming Xing Tian Meng. I believe that this is what you would have wanted to see, the you who spent your life fighting drug dealers.”

Chen Wen Hao supports himself on his knees as he gets up, and now that he knows the truth, he feels as if he’s aged in a flash. He is no longer the fearful, big drug lord, and no longer the vicious Chen-ye he was known for. He is merely an old man in his sixties, a man who’s finally seeing his own son - a father.

He takes out the thumb drive saved with the list of Xing Tian Meng members and business deals, handing it over to Tang Yi.

“This is something I bribed Jack to gather for me as I was plotting revenge against Tang Guo Dong. Every step I’ve taken in my life has turned out to be wrong, and even as I stand before my son, I don’t have the right to ask for his forgiveness.”

Tang Yi’s grip on the thumb drive tightens. He nods at the man before him respectfully, and with a complex expression he leaves the cemetery. At the stairs, however, his footsteps pause and Tang Yi covers his face as he sobs.

At Zhao Zi’s house

“What are you doing?” Zhao Zi asks in confusion, looking at Jack in surprise, who’s standing at his door with his small luggage.

“From today onwards, I’m moving in with you.”

Jack beams, picking up his bags and ready to walk in, but the owner of the house stops him with both arms spread wide open.

“Who said you could move in?”

“You did!” the red-haired man cocks his head to the side, and grins, “Didn’t you cry and ask me to stay?”

“Yes I did, but when I asked you to stay then, and this kind of staying… it’s different!”

After realizing all the things that Zhou Guan Zhi did, Zhao Zi was so depressed that he sat in the middle of a square with a bottle of beer and started sobbing. After hearing that Jack too, was going to leave and go somewhere else, he hugged him and began to sob even louder, shouting that he wanted Jack to stay at his side.

Jack sets his bags down and stalks towards Zhao Zi until he cages the man against the wall. Staring into his eyes, he says, “Do you know how much I gave up, just because you said that?”

The ambush in Cambodia, the deal he had with Yan Zheng Qiang*, the status and position he had in Xing Tian Meng, and so many opportunities from where he could have earned a lot of money. All of it, he abandoned without a second thought.

“Huh?”

“So I’m now a pitiful bug who has no income and no home to return to, you have to be responsible and feed me well.”

“Huh?” Zhao Zi looks at the man who’s given up on everything, dumbfounded. “Wait, no, where’s your family?”

Jack’s expression goes still, and then speaking a half-truth of sorts, he answers, “How would someone like me, who lives in danger every single day, have any family left? No matter where I go, I’m alone, and it gets pretty lonely…”

Zhao Zi looks at this person, who also longs for someone to be at his side just like himself, and his resolve wavers.

“So just let me stay~ Not only will you have another person to share the bills with, but I can take over things like housework and the most important thing is…”

Jack, an ex-mercenary who has never let an opportunity to get the best deal in any situation go, takes the chance to persuade Zhao Zi, “My cooking is pretty delicious, no? As long as you let me stay, I promise you that I’ll take care of your three meals daily. How about that? Isn’t this a really good deal?”

Zhao Zi, a known glutton, swallows. He has to admit that the last point Jack made is the most tempting one. However, if Jack does everything, then what is he going to do?

“You don’t have to do everything in the house. Since it’s housework, everyone in the house has to contribute, that’s why it’s called housework.

“So…” Jack’s heart warms, and he immediately snatches a kiss from Zhao Zi. “Shorty, can I move in, and become a part of your family?”

“Hnn!” Zhao Zi nods seriously, biting at his bottom lip.

“Then let’s have our meals together, do housework together, you’ll take care of the odd days, and I’ll take the even days including Sunday.”

“Okay!”

Just as Jack is preparing to swoop in for a kiss, his hands holding Zhao Zi’s face, they suddenly hear Zhao Zi’s stomach rumbling, and the romantic atmosphere dissipates immediately.

“Pfft, is it 6pm already?”

“Hnn….” Zhao Zi laughs sheepishly, rubbing at his stomach that is even more precise than a clock.

Jack pats him on the head, then moves towards the kitchen, “I’ll make you dinner right away. First, I’ll feed you, and then after… it’s your turn to feed me.”

“Wait! What do you mean, it’s my turn to feed you? Jack you better explain! Jack!”

The Tang manor

“Have you stared enough?” Tang Yi picks up his teacup and glares at a certain doctor, who’s staring at him incessantly.

“Not yet, I specially came over to see what it would look like, for an ice mountain to be melted by the power of love. Pfft, it’s practically like an antique that’s just been unearthed, of course I have to look at it a few times. But Meng Shao Fei is really something, because only he can fall in love with a boring hard shell like you, who doesn��t like to talk?”

However, Jin Tang, who is gleefully ribbing at the Xing Tian Meng leader in an unusual turn of events, is quickly defeated in the next second with Tang Yi’s words.

“I didn’t think you would have the time to talk rubbish here with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Andy didn’t tell you?”

Jin Tang frowns, sensing some conspiracy in the air, “He didn’t tell me what?”

“Andy got some news today and told me that there’s a British man in the archaeological group who’s clinging onto your Xiao Shu Gong, and he even insists on squeezing in the same tent as him every night to sleep.”

Jin Tang snaps to his feet in shock and the usually gentle and composed man turns to Tang Yi with ferocity in his eyes. He glares at Tang Yi, “Fuck, why did you only just tell me this?!”

“I thought you already knew.”

“Damn it!” the man cursed, taking out his phone and calling his secretary. He says anxiously, “Book a flight for me to Mali right now… Of course I know there’s no direct flight there, why would I have called you otherwise? Settle this in the next hour, I want to get to my destination in the shortest time possible.”

After delegating the task to his secretary, Jin Tang hangs up and glares at Tang Yi again, huffing in anger, “What are you looking at! Have you never seen me angry?”

“I see you angry rather often, but I’ve never seen you jealous. It’s just like an antique that’s just been unearthed and it really does deserve a few more looks from me.”

The words he used to tease Tang Yi earlier are now being used back on him, word for word, and Jin Tang doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. In the end he puts up his middle finger and says, “Fine, you’re ruthless, teasing me like this.”

“It’s true that you have to wait in relationships, but if you always bury what you are truly thinking deep in your heart, the other person will never know how you feel. I don’t want to see you end up like that.”

Jin Tang looks at Tang Yi, stunned. His lips then curve in a smile, “I really didn’t expect to hear such deep thoughts from you.”

“I didn’t expect to think this way either.”

“But it’s good that you’re like this, you’re finally looking more like a human.”

“If you need any help from me, just let me know, don’t be shy.”

“Don’t worry! I definitely won’t stand on ceremony with you.”

Both men raised their teacups and smiled at each other. In the other’s eyes, they could see the vibrance of happiness shining through.

Outside the police station

Tang Yi has just parked his car in front of the station, and suddenly a huge motorbike zooms past the side of his car, then emergency brakes.

“Ah, what a coincidence, hi ex-boss,” Jack greets with a harmless, innocent smile as he takes off his helmet and reveals a mop of eye-catching red hair.

Tang Yi alights his car and looks at Jack coldly, “You resigned for another reason, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t,” Jack hangs his helmet on the handles and shrugs, “I just happened to find the life I want to live, there’s no other reason for it.”

At the same time, Shao Fei walks out from the station building, and looking at the guy seated on the bike, he says, “What are you doing here?”

“Please, even you guys are lovingly fetching each other from work, isn’t it normal for me to wait for someone to get off work too?”

Looking at Jack’s face, Tang Yi quickly changes the subject and says, “Chen Wen Hao told me that you used me to get access to Xing Tian Meng’s confidential documents, so previously, when you tried to assassinate me and failed, and was subsequently bribed by me, that was fake too?”

Jack’s expression stills, and knowing that he cannot continue to deceive him, the man regains his composure. He admits, “It was planned. Following you at your side was also so I could get information, but you still managed to get the thumb drive back, didn’t you?”

“Did you think I would let it go like that?”

Tang Yi will show no mercy to the people who have used him.

Jack forces a smile and says, “Let bygones be bygones. I had my own difficulties too. And to protect the happiness I managed to get after so much hardship, I’m afraid I would have to do something to you.”

“What do you mean?”

Shao Fei can feel the murderous intent coming off Jack as he speaks, and immediately moves to stand between both men, pushing Tang Yi behind him protectively.

“Nothing, I just want to remind my ex-boss that there is only interest between people and no real feelings or relationships. I have to lie in order to attain my goal, so we shouldn’t concern ourselves with these small things, don’t you think?” Jack shrugs again and bats his eyelids at Tang Yi.

Just as he does that, he hears another voice sounding from behind him, “So between you and me, we’re just using each other as well, there aren’t any real feelings?”

He sees Zhao Zi’s upset expression the second he turns his head around, and immediately shakes his head, denying, “No. I didn’t, shorty, listen to me!”

“Ah Fei, I’m staying at your place today,” Zhao Zi glares at Jack and walks over to Shao Fei to put some distance between him and the red-haired asshole.

“I object!”

“Overruled! Ah Fei I’m going with you.”

“You’re not allowed! We’re going home.”

“I don’t want to!”

Jack knows that it’s inconvenient to have this conversation right outside the police station, and so he decides to simply carry Zhao Zi and put him on the bike instead.

“Wah- Ah Fei, save me!”

“Zhao-”

“If you don’t want to die, then don’t interfere!” Jack glares at Shao Fei who’s intending to stop him.

With one hand around Zhao Zi’s waist and the other securing a knot around Zhao Zi’s waist with the jacket around Jack’s middle, he ties Zhao Zi to him. Then he slams his foot down on the accelerator and leaves the precinct quickly.

“Ah Fei! Ah Fei save me, Ah Fei!”

And the cries for help fade away as the bike goes further, and further.

Shao Fei stares at his good friend being kidnapped right outside of the station and it takes him a long while to break out of his trance. Pointing in the direction that Jack and Zhao Zi left in, he asks the Xing Tian Meng leader next to him who’s smiling mysteriously, “When did the both of them get together?”

“Who knows?”

“Hey! You were finding trouble with Jack deliberately earlier, right?”

“He’s a talent, but unfortunately there’s no leash that can hold him, so I obviously had to teach him a lesson. Only then can we use him in the future.”

“Don’t tell me you still want him to work for you”?

Tang Yi laughs and lets the silence speak for itself. Shao Fei gapes at Tang Yi, looking at this handsome but incredibly scheming man.

At Zhao Zi’s house

“Let me go!”

Jack takes advantage of his height to secure Zhao Zi over his shoulders in a fireman’s lift, and only after they’ve entered through the gates and the door does he put Zhao Zi back on the ground.

“Don’t be angry, listen to me-”

“I don’t want to! I don’t want to be used by you!” Zhao Zi presses his hands over his ears, even lifting his leg to kick at the other’s calf bone.

Despite being so skilled at fighting, Jack does not move or retaliate, only tolerating the pain and pulling the angry person before him into his embrace. At the same time, he pinches at Zhao Zi’s chin and angles his head up, forcing a kiss on Zhao Zi.

“Mmm…. mmm…. Go away!” Zhao Zi pushes Jack away for forcing the kiss on him, his eyes red as he glares at him.

“Zhao Li An! Listen to me!”

It’s Jack’s first time seeing the shorty this furious, and even though Zhao Zi’s eyes hold no plausible threat to him, Jack is still properly startled and all he can do is carry Zhao Zi to the counter, trapping him against it.

“...”

Zhao Zi stares at Jack in shock. This is the first time Jack has been so fierce to him.

“I won’t explain myself for what I did in the past. I admit that in this time, there were both truths and lies in the things I said to you, but I’ve never used you! Never!”

“How do I know what you’re saying are truths, and which are lies? Even the Chief I really trusted, even the senior who was so important to me, these people I can’t even trust. Why should I trust you?”

What happened with Captain Shi and Zhou Guan Zhi dealt Zhao Zi a heavy blow, and he even doubted himself, was it him who was naive and had too much faith in human nature? Does he have the right to be a police officer, even? Why is it that the Captain and colleague he had meals with every day, both had other sides to them that he missed?

Jack looks at his shorty who has lost control over his emotions, and emphasizes, “You don’t have to believe in everything else, but there are two things that you have to believe in.”

“What two things?”

“The first is, I like you.”

“And?”

“Second, I stayed because of you. These two things, you better remember them clearly in your heart!”

Zhao Zi looks at Jack with wide eyes and listens as Jack continues to confess to him.

“In the beginning, I was just curious about you, wondering how you could be both so naive and lustful.”

“I’m not!”

“You are, and you even touched me.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to touch!”

“Whatever, anyway, I was totally attracted to you. This is the first time I’ve cared so much about someone else, worried that if I’m not around, are you having your meals properly, worrying if you are lonely by yourself at home, worrying if you are crying in a place I don’t know… So I decided to stay, because I didn’t want to leave you!”

Zhao Zi, seated on the counter, blinks and rubs at his nose. Somehow, everything that Jack is saying strikes all his pain points and he feels like crying.

“If you still don’t believe me, and if you still want me to go, I’ll go. But you have to be prepared, because the moment I leave, you’ll never see me again.”

“You’re lying to me again, right?”

“No, I’m serious. So you have to make the decision. Do you want me to go? Or do you want me to stay?”

“I…”

Jack waits for Zhao Zi’s answer anxiously. This is the first time he is so uncertain about what he’s doing. However, Zhao Zi continues to look downwards, biting at his lips and refusing to speak. Taking Zhao Zi’s silence for rejection, Jack’s shoulders drop in disappointment.

“Forget it, I’ll go…”

The moment he says that, Jack hears the reply he’s been waiting for.

“Stay!”

“Really? You want me to stay? Why?”

“Because…” Zhao Zi’s ears go hot, and he says in a small voice, “I like you.”

The ends of Jack’s mouth curve, and then he’s kissing Zhao Zi’s lips hard.

“Mmmff, Jack... “

Zhao Zi, who was teased by Shao Fei for being single all his life, now realizes that kisses aren’t just like bland honey water, but a really, really sweet chocolate pie that is enough to make his legs go weak. Through the hands cupping the sides of his face, Zhao Zi can feel Jack’s body warmth, and also the way Jack’s fingertips are trembling, just that little bit.

It seems that even for Jack, who always seems to have everything under control and doesn’t understand the meaning of fear, there are also times where he feels insecure. It’s not only just Zhao Zi who is afraid of being rejected.

“What is it?”

As Zhao Zi is trying to hold his laughter in, his shoulders shake so much that Jack notices, and so Jack pulls Zhao Zi over to look at the giggling shorty.

“So you were actually so afraid of me rejecting you?” Zhao Zi stares at Jack, exposing the thoughts the other man was trying to conceal.

The red-haired man pretends to be angry and glares at Zhao Zi, but his eyes are full of adoration as he looks at the source of happiness that the heavens has finally put into his grasp. And only before this person, Jack has no need to lie or hide.

“I was very afraid.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t know how I could go back to being the person I was before.”

Jack was once obsessed with the thrill that uncertainty could bring, because he was very confident of his own abilities. As long as he worked hard, he could always obtain the things he wanted. However, with love, he could not be sure of how much Zhao Zi liked him, and there was no guarantee that even with his best efforts, that Zhao Zi would return his affections.

Moreover, once he experienced not having to pretend in front of someone else and letting go of all his defenses, much less having to lie to them, he no longer wants to put his armour back on and go back to the battlefield, where he can trust no one else but himself.

Zhao Zi nods, and then angles his head upwards to look at the man who’s much taller than he is. He says, “I understand, because since you came into my life, I feel like being alone at home is so lonely! It’s not as if I didn’t stay alone before, but now even when I eat, it doesn’t taste as good as when I eat with you, it’s not like…”

“It’s not like the food isn’t exactly the same,” Jack continues for him with a smile.

“Hnn! It really, really is like that.”

“Hold on! Shorty, don’t tell me you realized you like me because you found that the food you were eating tasted bad?”

If that really is the case, then he will be jealous of every food item that ranks before him in the shorty’s heart.

“Of course! What about you? When did you start liking me?”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

“Hey! How can you be like this, it’s not fair, I told you my answer!”

“You really want to know?”

“I do.”

“Then…”

“Ah!”

Jack suddenly picks Zhao Zi up in his arms and walks over to the dining table next to them, putting the shorty on the surface of the table. Then he begins to unbutton Zhao Zi’s shirt.

“Let me eat first, and then I’ll tell you the answer.”

Zhao Zi’s face turns hot, and he looks down, shy, “If you’re hungry… then… then go have supper…”

His smile oozing charm, Jack turns to the side and steals a kiss from the corner of Zhao Zi’s lips, “My supper is you - Zhao. Li. An!”

“But I’m not tasty.”

“Tasty or not, I’ll let you know what I think after I’ve eaten, so… let me first take off the packaging.”

“But…”

“Shhh!” Jack smirks, then presses his face against the side of Zhao Zi’s ear and says softly, “Didn’t your grandma teach you, when someone is eating you, you’re not supposed to talk?”

“No,” the honest and innocent Zhao Zi answers after actually considering the question. He shakes his head and clarifies, “Why can’t I talk?”

“Because…”

Fingers unbutton the last of the buttons on the shirt and Jack’s hands guide Zhao Zi’s arms out of the shirt’s sleeves. When Zhao Zi is finally half naked seated on the dining table, Jack continues, “Because when other people are busy ‘eating’ you, all you need to do is to moan nicely.”

Suddenly, Jack crouches down and moves towards the soft bumps on Zhao Zi’s chest, then bites down on one.

“Ah-”

Startled, Zhao Zi glares at Jack. No one has ever done this to his nipples. Jack is lightly biting on them. It stings a little, but more than that, whatever he is feeling right now he feels it strongly, but is unable to put into words.

“Jack…”

“Hmm?” Jack responds to Zhao Zi who is experiencing this for the first time, in a deep, nasal tone.

“It’s… It’s so weird…” 

Not only is Zhao Zi’s face hot now, both of his ears are scalding hot too.

“It’s tasty,” the person with his head bent low mumbles, and then Jack begins to tease at the hard nipple he was lightly biting at with the tip of his tongue.

“Mmm...hmmm”

It feels really weird. Not only does the area where Jack is attacking feels weird, even a more embarrassing part of him is beginning to rise, and he’s feeling both uncomfortable and good at the same time.

Jack grins and enjoys the way Zhao Zi is reacting to him. He releases the pressure on Zhao Zi’s chest and the moment Zhao Zi relaxes, Jack immediately goes after the other nipple, continuing to use his teeth and tongue to bully the pitiful and soft little thing.

“Ah-hah… Jack!”

Angling his eyes downwards Zhao Zi can now clearly see the bumps shining with spit, and the usually soft area is now both red and hard from Jack’s ministrations. Even the soft tip has swollen into a little ball.**

“So delicious,” Jack finally looks up to appreciate his work.

“Look! It’s so red now!”

Zhao Zi looks down at his chest, and both his left and right sides have been bitten until they’re both red and swollen, and it feels itchy too. He cannot resist but scratch at the bumps, but then he hears Jack swallow and make a ‘sssss’ sound.

“What’s wrong?”

“Shorty, it seems that I’ve underestimated you, after all.”

“Huh?”

Jack then grabs onto the bewildered man’s hand, dragging it to the lower half of his body. That’s when Zhao Zi realizes, where the denim is hugging taut around something, Jack’s member is obviously hard.

“You-”

Zhao Zi is too embarrassed to continue speaking, and the skin from his face all the way to his neck flushes entirely red.

“It’s all your fault, so you better take responsibility.”

“Huh?”

“This is the first time I’ve gotten so hard so quickly, and…”Jack smirks and moves to Zhao Zi’s ear, and with a warm exhale, he continues, “And wet.”

[I’m skipping the rest of the smut scene! Sorry guys think you’ll have to find alternative sources for the translation of this part.]

“So tired…” Zhao Zi pants as he lies on the wooden dining table. Looking at Jack who’s pressing down on him, he grins, silly.

“What is it?”

“Am I… tasty?”

“You are. You are very tasty,” Jack grins and gives Zhao Zi his highest compliments.

Jack then carries his lover to the second floor and helps Zhao Zi to wash away the remnants of their lovemaking, before putting him on their bed.

“Hey… Will you still leave next time?”

“Since you’ve asked me to stay with so much passion, I wouldn’t be a man if I left you,” Jack’s hands move over Zhao Zi’s body under the blankets covering the both of them.

“Don’t… I’m so tired…”

Zhao Zi dives into Jack’s embrace, closing his eyes. Staring at Zhao Zi’s face, Jack looks as if he’s about to confess to him again.

“I’ve never thought so much about anything, until I met you. In the past, I always thought that settling down was such a boring thing as that kind of life would be stagnant without change, and only thrill and excitement could fulfill me, could make me feel alive. You made me realize that a normal life is happiness, so… shorty, be prepared! Don’t you ever think of leaving me.”

Jack presses a kiss to Zhao Zi’s forehead, and softly says, “Goodnight.”

He doesn’t realize that Zhao Zi hasn’t fallen asleep. The shorty smiles happily and sinks into his dreams.

Outside the courthouse

Shao Fei holds onto Tang Yi’s hand before the courthouse, and ignoring the looks of everyone around them, gazes at Tang Yi.

“After you go in, don’t refuse to talk to people.”

“Why are you saying this for no reason?”

“If people talk to you, don’t just keep quiet, and don’t ignore them.”

It was a different society in prison with its own laws and rules, and Shao Fei didn’t want Tang Yi to have any accidents inside.

“Hnn,” Tang Yi agrees, nodding.

“You’re no longer the boss when you go in, and I know you will find it hard to get used to, but tolerate it. If you don’t cause any trouble, you’ll be out in no time.”

“Hnn.”

“I’ll come see you every week, if you’ve got anything you need, let me know.”

“Hnn.”

“And one last thing…”

“What?”

Shao Fei chuckles, and says, “Don’t miss me too much.”

“Sorry, this is the only thing I cannot do.”

Hugging the lover he’s about to separate from tightly, Tang Yi suddenly feels anxious.

“Don’t worry, I’ll wait for you on the outside, no matter how long you’re in there for,” Shao Fei promises, tearing through Tang Yi’s facade of calm as he pushes himself away from Tang Yi’s chest, looking into the eyes of the man who’s about to serve his sentence.

“I’m not worried about this.”

“Please, you are obviously so concerned about this.”

“You’re the only person in the world who thinks so.”

“That’s right! Because I’m the only one who understands you, so…” Shao Fei smiles, and using the words he said to Tang Yi in that dilapidated house in the mountains, he continues, “I’ll keep watching you.”

“You’ll keep watching me?” Tang Yi finally smiles, recalling the night they were hiding on the mountains as he stares at Shao Fei.

“Yes! I’ll keep my eyes on you always, both of them!”

“Okay.”

Still smiling, Tang Yi kisses Shao Fei one last time, before turning and walking towards the courthouse.

“Tang Yi!”

Tang Yi pauses in his footsteps, but doesn’t dare to turn back.

“I’ll miss you.”

Again, Tang Yi moves forward and walks into the courthouse with determination, prepared to face the sentence that is waiting for him.

Facing a future where he is no longer alone!

---

Notes:

*Yan Zheng Qiang is the name of the Interpol chief, you know the one that scolded Shao Fei and then colluded with Jack by the riverside?

[wrongfullythinking]

Twitter and the “Public Forum”

There is a very large looming legal question about whether or not social media sites, such as Twitter, are “Public Forums.”  Most would agree that they are not... at least... not yet.  But the question is... should they be?

First, a look into why it matters.

In a public forum, all First Amendment protections apply.  So you can say any number of very objectionable things (https://scholar.google.com/scholar_case?case=12634874511090553174) and be protected.  In a private forum, this is not so.  I can kick you out of my house for wearing an Abercrombie shirt, and you have no Free Speech/Expression reason to contest my staggeringly good decision-making.

Second, the public forum cannot be policed for any content that may be stated.  This is why if you go to reserve time at a public park, you don’t have to tell the Parks and Rec department what your event is for.  Just things like how many people, how long the event will last, etc.  This is well-established and well-backed by many years of precedent.

Finally, there is the very serious matter of personal liability.  In certain circumstances, officials can be held personally liable if their policies deliberately and knowingly infringe upon Bill of Rights protections (most often First Amendment protections).  This means that you could literally sue for the property and assets of a person.  (Also, this is why those of us who own either physical property [like a house] or intellectual property [like a book] buy “Umbrella Coverage” from insurances... I recommend State Farm, but that’s totally irrelevant and I’m not getting any kickbacks for that shill =P.)

But hang on... so if the government owns a billboard and rents it out to whomever can pay, can I rent it and post a naked lady?

You could try, and you might win!  What you can’t do is post something obscene.  And yes, whether or not a naked person is obscene is staggeringly controversial.  There’s a 3-part test from the Burger court, a host of vague terms like “average person” and “contemporary community standards,” and “lacks serious artistic/literary/political/scientific value.”  And then there are protections for children, a whole separate piece, as well as child pornography, which is always classified as obscene... except when it is not, like in the cases of naked cherubs in church windows.  So, confused yet?  We’re off topic, but I make this point to explain that even in public forums, where First Amendment rights are fiercely protected, there are still outstanding issues of content censorship.

So, is Twitter / Facebook / Tumblr a public forum?

At this point, the answer is no.  They are privately controlled by companies, not owned by the feds or states or local municipalities, and thus can make almost any policy they want.  The idea here is that the free market dictates the life or death of these platforms... and that idea tends to hold true!  Tumblr itself is a good case-in-point, because it has lost millions of dollars in value due to bad leadership decisions, and at least partially because of censorship.  There are countless examples of others... I remember when Yahoo! was the primary search engine of the internet and Xanga was the biggest blogging platform.  While you can still Yahoo, I’m not sure there are more than a few hundred people on Xanga, if it still exists in any useful format.  So, since places like this are subject to the free market, and thus can die... they should be allowed to make all the good or bad decisions they want about their content.  Or at least, that is how the theory runs.

But really... ARE they subject to the market?  Now we’re getting into the really interesting territory.  If Facebook shut down tomorrow, would it be a problem?  Maybe, but life would continue.  But if Google shut down tomorrow?  Well, millions of schoolchildren are in GoogleClassrooms right now, so that would certainly be a problem.  It would at least cause massive disruption... and Facebook shutting down would cause some disruption.  Likewise, Twitter controls so much speech that instead of publishing headlines from Newspapers, newspapers publish headlines from Twitter!  The 14-year-old looks at that line like “well, duh” and the 44-year old reads that line like “wow, we’ve come a long way,” and the 84-year-old reads that line with just a sad headshake.

So, now we’ve joined one of the most controversial points of the last 20 years... the Fannie Mae “Too Big to Fail” problem.  Basically, a set of banks and big mortgage companies (Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac) made a bunch of bad decisions in about 1995 - 2008.  [As an aside, whether or not Fannie Mae {technically, the “Federal National Mortgage Association”} is actually a company comes up as an issue... it originated as a government program, but is today a publicly-traded company and has been since the late 60s, though it was delisted from NYSE and is only traded off-exchange].  And the government had to step in.  You can read all about that issue at another time, the bottom line is that actually Fannie Mae has paid back more than it borrowed, but there was a ballooning of the debt ceiling by over 800 billion.  Some people care about the national debt, some don’t, and again, not the subject of this commentary.  The point is that it set a very odd precedent, whereas a company could make extremely bad decisions and then the burden would be placed on the taxpayers to fix their decision, because the company itself was a part of so many people’s lives.  Would social media fall under this guidance?  Unlikely, and I think we would all run from state-sponsored social media... but hey, what do I know.

So... get to the point.  Should they be public forums, or not?

My two cents always comes down against censorship, especially censorship by entities that don’t have my best interests at heart... so basically, everybody else.  I think that it is so easy to self-censor the internet at the personal end (for example, by installing filters and blocking services for objectionable content), that companies should not be unilaterally making these decisions, especially if those companies want to be venues for mass public communication.

Let’s go with another example... let’s say you wanted to call up your buddy and have a nice long phonesex session.  Good for you.  Or just chat with them about the latest Dr. Doe video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QXgT8WXaPUY), because enthusiasm is important.  Would you be okay with Verizon telling a robot to monitor your call, and then automatically hang up if you said “penis” too much?  Or “Trump”?  Or “Black Lives Matter?”  What about “Nazi,” “Rohypnol,” “Mary Jane,” “negritos” [I’ve got your back, Mr. Cavani], “snowbunny,” or “Insane Clown Posse”?  I think most people would be upset about any of those, and they would rightfully tell Verizon that they will find another provider.  So Verizon doesn’t do that, although it could.  But Twitter does do that.  And the availability of another Twitter is in question.  Will something succeed Twitter?  Absolutely.  But right now, Twitter is under no market pressure, so it is succeeding at taking off its platform any number of conversations that it probably should not be policing.

There’s also a social-justice side of this.  So, let’s say that we all decide Twitter is a bad platform and move to something else.  And that something else costs us 10$ a month.  I wouldn’t notice this fee.  Others would.  So that’s an access issue.  Or, let’s say that some people start migrating to a new platform, and they only tell their friends about it.  That’s okay, right?  Absolutely... but imagine that college student who is trapped at home in a pandemic right now who cannot get any viewpoints outside of what her parents approved of, and previously used Twitter to explore and challenge her upbringing.  If she doesn’t get an invite to the new platform, is she just lost?

And that brings up the Pandemic.  Many, many common public forums have been shut down due to the pandemic.  This alone has caused serious controversy (see: BLM protests on crowded streets where state governors participated, while those same governors implemented executive orders enforcing 6-foot distancing in churches and stores), so the argument for Twitter censorship “but you have many other public forums!” is tough to substantiate during the COVID-era.  And this is a HUGE problem.  Historically, taking away public forums is always an early move of totalitarian regimes.  Taking away rights to assembly and speech follows soon after.  We’re now in Phase 2 there... and our governors keep assuring us it is temporary... while at the same time, encouraging Twitter to take off any viewpoints they don’t like, under the guise of “false or misleading information.”  Soon, they start moving into the schools, and that leads to...

SCIENCE!!!

So, to talk about what rigorous debate means, we need to understand a bit about Science.  And specifically, the philosophy of science, what scientific discourse looks like, and why review and critique are parts of the scientific process.

Point 1: “Scientific consensus” is hogwash.  Yes, we all agree that the Earth orbits the Sun, and the Sun itself moves, but beyond that, there isn’t much scientific consensus.  If you see an article that starts with the phrase “Expert say,” you can go ahead and close your browser window right there.  The rest is bull****.

Point 2: The limits of science are boundless.  Any specific scientific paper is, by necessity and the peer review process, very strictly bounded.  “Whether or not a vaccine is efficient” is an entirely different paper than one titled “Whether or not 80-year-olds with lung cancer should get the vaccine,” and both of those are different than “How the US should achieve herd immunity, and if it is even possible for COVID-19 before significant mutations cause current immunizations to be ineffective,” and all three of those are different from “Do we need to vaccinate our cats from COVID in order to reach herd immunity?”

Point 3: There is no “finalized” science.  The answers are never finished.  What is “cutting edge” science today is out-of-date tomorrow, barbaric and backwards by the end of the year, and grounds for an abuse lawsuit by the end of the decade.  The best examples of this are from Psych treatments.

Point 4: I get very worried when anybody starts to censor scientific content... especially those without any qualifications.  Okay, so this one is a personal sentence (note the “I”), but I’m going to go ahead and guess that Twitter robots and interns flagging posts don’t have any idea the difference between sensitivity and specificity, the background as to why the FDA has never approved an mRNA vaccine previously, the difference between statistical and clinical significance, and how to read a limitations section.  The people who are qualified to do so are peer reviewers... and in the case where those fail (which happens!), the rest of the writer’s peers.  And we do that.  Anything published is open to critique, which leads to the final point, that...

Point 5: Critique and Review are THE MOST IMPORTANT PARTS of scientific publishing.  If a piece is published without review, it is called an “opinion” and not science.  Even more worrisome than the censoring of unpopular papers is the censoring of the opinions of scientists on the papers of their peers.  Should someone publish a paper where I believe they overstretched their claims, it is a HUGE part of my job to call that out.  For an agency like Twitter to be able to say “you don’t have the right to say that they overstated their claim, because expressing a concern about a vaccine is against our Terms of Use” is a very big problem for science.

The flipside is that you get into the part where now a company can, through its policy, dictate what science gets done.  For example, lets say I wanted to examine an unpopular question... and I’m a social scientist, so there are plenty of those, but say I wanted to do something semi-controversial but apolitical.  I’ll say my research question is “How do the happiness of those in committed multi-year polyamorous relationships compare to the happiness of people in similar economic and social situations but in closed marriages where additional intimate partnerships would be viewed as grounds for relationship termination?”  There are plenty of ways I could conduct this study and I’ll spare you my methodological musings, but safe to say there are platforms who would not want me to publish my results.  And that’s fine. 

But let’s say that I did publish my results, and a commenter took to Twitter.  And their response was “I read your paper, and I see your conclusion that those in committed multi-year polyamorous relationships score no differently on a happiness scale than those in the closed marriages.  However, I disagree with your use of this scale, because it was tested on populations of retirees, and most of the people in your sample are in their late 20s or early 30s.”

That is an EXCELLENT and VALID critique.  And let’s say that Twitter was heavily into the social justice and had a policy that said “you can’t say negative things about polyamory.”  And they deleted this person’s comment.  Now, Twitter has interfered with the scientific process.  That comment IS PART of the dialogue and that dialogue is part of Science.  Yes, there are other places that those comments could be made, and not be censored... but we should not be encouraging that censorship ANYWHERE.  And Twitter has vastly overstepped the line on this point.  Random Twitter employees have no business removing professional critiques about a study, even if there are other platforms for those critiques.

Other Thoughts

1) Generally, you can’t prohibit meetings in a public forum based on prior behavior.  Thus, “X group was violent in the past” is not a reason to prohibit X group from accessing a public forum for speech.  So there’s no saying “Proud Boys were violent once, so no Proud Boys on Twitter” if it were to be declared a public forum.

2) I’m really not aware of any large precedents for taking a private company and declaring it a public forum.  That may seem redundant (obviously, if there was precedent, this wouldn’t be such a hot-button issue), but it bears specific mention.

[have-each-others-six]

face to the wind, eyes to the sun (pt. one)

hello!

welcome to angst!

i have many people to thank for getting me here but my three biggest inspirations atm are @lailaliquorice, @the-quiet-winds, and @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts. their fics are absolute art and i would definitely recommend giving those a read if you’ve got the chance.

also, @supernova-nightmare. you’re my favorite, honey. love you. also, go to sleep. i don’t know what time you’ll read this but chances are you need sleep so get sleep.

tw: discussions of panic attacks and also death

***

six.

In all honesty, they probably should have known it would be temporary.

The gift of reincarnation, of a second chance to tell their story, of a life without Henry…

They should have known it was too good to be true.

It starts just after the last show of the evening on Saturday.

Cathy walks through the door to the queens’ flat, the rest of them trailing behind her. She puts the keys on the counter (she’s been the one driving to the shows lately, she likes knowing for certain what time they’ll get there) and stretches her arms up over her head, yawning as she does so.

It had been a good show. She’s a little more sore than usual, but she tacks that up to the fact that Anne decided it would be a brilliant idea to jump all around the stage while holding on to Cathy’s arms.

“Oh my god, I’m exhausted,” Anna groans behind her, peeling off her boots, and Cathy gives her a sympathetic grin.

“Well, we’re done for tonight, yeah?”

“I might just sleep through the show tomorrow. You can Weekend-at-Bernie’s me or something,” Anna says, a glint appearing in her eyes and Parr knows she’s seriously considering the option.

She leaves Anna to her plotting and begins taking her hair down, unpinning it and slipping out the spiked headband as Anne skips in from the car, like she’s not tired at all.

“How are you so energetic?” Cathy laughs. “Walking in the door got me out of breath, meanwhile you’re just bouncing on your feet.”

“I drank two full cans of Red Bull before our last show, that’s probably got something to do with it,” Anne chirps, hopping from foot to foot, and Cathy groans.

“Oh, no. Who let you have caffeine?” she laughs. “Need I remind you that the last time you had coffee, you ran in circles around the garden for an hour and then painted one of your walls with nail polish?”

“I almost passed out from the fumes,” Anne remembers fondly. “I had to sleep on Kitty’s floor for a week. And it’s fine. I haven’t set anything on fire this time.”

“Jane’s going to flip out, you know th- wait, what did you set on fire last time?”

Jane thumps on the door with her foot as if summoned, and Cathy opens it for her. She’s half-carrying Kat, who’s asleep or very close to it.

“You want help?” Cathy mouths to Jane, so she doesn’t wake up Katherine in case she is in fact asleep.

Jane nods, and Cathy slips her arm around the youngest queen’s back so that her weight is evenly distributed between her and Jane.

They carry her upstairs and gently lay her on the bed, and Kat makes a tiny sound at the change of position but doesn’t wake up.

“Can you grab her pajamas? I left them by the dryer this morning,” Jane says, and Cathy gives her a thumbs-up.

Cathy goes downstairs and picks up the pink heart pajamas that are folded neatly on top of the basket and grabs Anne’s sweatshirt for good measure, since she noticed her shivering earlier.

She lobs it over the back of the couch, where it flops on top of Anne’s head and over Aragon, who must’ve snuck in while Cathy was in the laundry room.

“Thanks, Cath,” Anne calls out, muffled through the fabric, and when she pulls on the hoodie she gives her a radiant smile, her hair sticking up all over the place like a tumbleweed.

Cathy grins back and climbs the stairs, handing Jane the pajamas, who gives them to a barely-conscious Kat.

“Night, Parr,” Katherine whispers as Cathy turns to leave, startling her a bit. She hadn’t realized Katherine was awake.

“Good night, Kit,” she murmurs in response, holding on to the doorframe for a moment and just watching the youngest queen, sending a silent prayer to whatever god was listening that the girl wouldn’t be bothered by nightmares tonight.

She heads to her room, changing out of her costume into pajamas, slipping in earbuds (the twenty-first century had several perks, but headphones that not only played music but were also noise-cancelling were a miracle as far as she was concerned) and pulling out her most recent story.

Cathy writes a few sentences before there’s a light tug on her headphone wires, and when she looks up Jane’s next to her, leaning on the desk.

“Hey, you,” Jane says, giving her a tired smile. “What’re you working on?”

“Hey yourself. It’s just some old stories that I’m trying to finish, nothing special.”

“Well, I think all your stories are special, love.”

“I think you’re a bit of a biased critic,” Cathy laughs. “Did Kit get to sleep all right?

Jane’s eyes soften at the mention of her daughter. “Yes. She’s a little jumpy tonight, but nothing more than that, so I don’t think her nightmares will be too bad.”

“That’s good, then. It means she’s starting to get a handle on her fears, right?”

Jane bites her lip. There’s clearly more to the story, so Cathy stays quiet as Jane speaks again.

“She saw someone who looked like- like Mannox today at the matinee.” Jane spits out the name, her voice shaking a little, and Cathy sees the dark anger flash in her eyes.

“Oh, no,” Cathy whispers, her voice hushed.

“It’s just- every time I think she’s safe, every time I think we might be able to be relatively normal, something comes along and flips everything on its head,” Jane says, her jaw clenched when she finishes talking.

“She is safe,” Catherine assured her. “Mannox, Dereham, Culpeper, Henry, none of them can hurt her anymore. And she’s doing really well with you here to help her. You know that, right?”

Jane nods, her tightly squeezed fists relaxing a bit. “I’ll let you get back to writing, love,” she says. “And it really is brilliant. I may be biased, sure, but I can recognize spectacular writing when I see it.” She leaves before Cathy can argue with a wave and a smile.

Turning back to her paper with a half-smile, Cathy starts writing again, but she barely gets two words down before Anne walks in, flopping facedown onto her carpet.

“Hi,” she greets her, her voice muffled somewhat by the rug.

“I’m working,” Cathy complains, but she sets down the pencil.

“And I’m tired,” Anne replies, rolling over onto her back and yawning.

“You have a bed, you know,” Cathy points out halfheartedly as she looks at Anne, but there’s no conviction behind it.

“But my bed’s all the way down the hall.”

Anne’s face is sullen when she says that, her bottom lip pushed out in an overexaggerated pout.

Cathy has half a mind to kick her out into the hallway with a few choice words about letting people focus, but then she notices the tear tracks on Anne’s face, and puts two and two together easily.

Anne was a frequent nightmare sufferer, like they all were. Sometimes, during late nights writing, Parr would hear Anne crying from her bedroom all the way down the hall.

She never asked for help, so the other queens found ways to give it to her, through tea and hugs and movie nights and a nightlight shaped like a spaceship.

Or, tonight, maybe all Anne needed was someone to be in the room with her when she fell asleep.

“All right, mopey,” Cathy says, pretending to sigh. “You can use my bed, I wasn’t planning on sleeping tonight anyhow.”

Having succeeded in her mission, Anne cheers before flopping backwards onto Cathy’s navy blue comforter, making a small, contented noise as she curls up.

She raises her head for a moment, and in the dark, she looks like a little kid, scared of the monsters under their bed.

“Thank you, Cath,” she says, all joking gone, her walls down.

“You’re welcome,” Cathy responds. “I’ll be here the whole night, okay? So if you wake up and don’t know where you are, I’ll be here to remind you.”

Anne gives her a weak smile and puts her head back down, her eyes closing right away.

After a while, though, Anne starts trembling in her sleep, so Cathy puts aside her notebook and stands up, trying not to let the fear she feels carry over into her movements. She pulls out the fluffy black blanket that Jane got her for Christmas, and lays it over Anne, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey,” she says, knowing that to get her out of the nightmare she needs to have a calm, even tone. “Anne, it’s Cathy, okay? I need you to calm down for me. It’s just a dream.”

She shakes her lightly, and Anne flinches in her sleep but doesn’t wake up. Sweat’s beading on her temples, and her knuckles are white as she pulls at the blue sheets under her.

“It’s okay,” Cathy says quietly. “You’re okay. You’re okay, Anne.”

She repeats it over and over, and eventually Anne relaxes, falling back into a more peaceful sleep.

This had been happening a lot recently. She would never remember her nightmares in the morning, always saying it was a complete blank from when she went to sleep to when she woke up.

Cathy always remembers her dreams. She can’t decide which she’d prefer, honestly.

She heads back to her desk, where she always is, and carefully monitors Anne out of the corner of her eye as she begins writing again.

Anne had just started to snore when a searing, blinding pain begins to pulse through Cathy’s head, and it‘s far worse than any migraine she’s ever had, and she’s screaming and writhing around and there’s Anne, or maybe it’s Kat, but she doesn’t care anymore because all there is is pain and why won’t it just stop-

Cathy opens her eyes to complete darkness. She looks all around, but light doesn’t shift anywhere that she can see. It’s just completely dark.

Then, someone appears in front of her, lit from below like a painting of an angel. Their face is hidden, and when they speak she doesn’t recognize the voice.

“You have twenty-four hours left.”

“Twenty-four hours left until… what?” Cathy asks, knowing it’s a stupid question as it leaves her mouth but needing to hear the answer anyway.

“Until all six of you are dead. Tonight, you are sent to your life before your reincarnation. You will be taken back to just before you die, and this time you will die fully. No second chances.”

“What?” Cathy‘s ears are ringing, unable to believe what she’s being told.

“I believe I made myself quite clear. Tomorrow at 11:46 p.m., exactly twenty-four hours from now, you will cease to exist in this time period, and reappear in your old time just before your death.”

“No. No, you can’t do this. You can’t do this!” Her voice is desperate, she knows, but she doesn’t have time to be cold and calculating right now. She’s just been told her and her friends-her family-are going to die again tomorrow night, reliving the worst moments of their lives without the others to help them through it.

“Those are the rules,” the person says, and then the darkness bleeds away.

Cathy gasps awake in Aragon’s arms, feeling hot and cold all over and filled with a deep sense of undeniable dread.

“Parr, what just happened?” Anne asks her, clearly fighting to keep her voice steady, gripping onto Cathy’s hand tightly enough that she can feel her pulse through her palm.

“I…” Cathy tries to start, because how do you tell the people you love most in the world that they’re all going to die?

They’re all going to die, she thinks again, and she starts crying, heavy, shaking sobs that wrack her whole body, Aragon’s fingers through her hair barely registering in the panic that Cathy can feel in every breath she takes.

“You have to tell us what’s happened, love, you just collapsed and started screaming bloody murder.”

There are tears in Jane’s eyes, and Cathy feels guilty for putting them there. Jane’s about to go through hell-they all are-and here she is wasting worry on Catherine’s headache.

“I’ve got to tell you all something,” she says, sitting up.

[ruthoakenshield]

The Lady in the Black Leather (Ch19)

Catch up here: [chapter 18]

Glancing over at Richard, you notice he looks exhausted. “You okay, Hun?” you ask.

He looks up at you and sighs. Leaning his arms on your bed, he holds your hand. “I just thought I was going to lose you today, when I realized your ex had a gun pointed at us. That’s why I told Phantom to attack him instead of the guy with the knife. When I heard the gun go off and felt you take the hit and crumple in my arms, I- I ….” He closes his eyes and bows his head, unable to finish the thought.

You reach down and run your fingers through his hair. He looks up at you and you see his eyes are glassy. “Oh, Rich… You didn’t lose me. I’m still here… ‘not dead yet!’ you tease with a small smile, quoting the guy in the Monty Python ‘bring out your dead’ scene you had once seen.

He smiles, catching your movie quote.

“I love you, Harley. I can’t imagine my life without you in it anymore.” He tells you as he stands and gives you a kiss, chuckling when the heart monitor starts to beep faster.

You giggle, “Damn monitor!” you grumble.

He just chuckles. And kisses you again.

He sits down next to your bed and holds your hand gently rubbing the back of it with his thumb. You both are quiet for a while, lost in your own thoughts.

You look out the window and at the flowers that your friends brought you along with the balloon. He glances at you. “Alex said that your restraining order is a temporary one. It’s only good for ten days, Love. Did you look at it when he gave it to you?” he asks you after a bit.

You shake your head and turn to look at him surprised. “No. Why would they only make it good for ten days?” you ask.

He tells you the process, “Alex explained that you appear for two hearings. The first one is so the judge can talk to you and find out from you what was going on.

Then at the second hearing, he lets your ex give his side of the story, then the police present their evidence and we can have an attorney present to add anything else that may be helpful.

At the end of the second hearing, he said that the judge can either rule to make the restraining order a permanent one, or he can make it last for a certain length of time. At that time, he will also determine the conditions of the restraining order.

I talked to an attorney while you were taking your nap and she agreed to take our case. I gave her Alex’s contact info, Todd’s and Graham’s, Scarlett’s, Aiden’s and Mark’s. She was going to talk to them all and she wants to talk to you as well, Sweetheart.

You do have the option of pressing charges against him for all the stuff he’s done. I told her what all has been going on and how we met.

She agreed to come and talk with you here tomorrow when Graham is here with you, because the first hearing is the day after tomorrow, Sweetheart.” He tells you as he holds your hand.

“We’re going to see if the judge will agree to do the meeting via video call so you can still ‘be present’ so to speak and give him your side of the story and answer any questions he may have.” Richard tells you. “Alex mentioned he will get in contact with the Judge and let him know why you can’t be there in person.”

“I asked Graham if he’d stay and sit with you tomorrow and he said he would.” Richard explains.

“I tried to get the time off to be here with you tomorrow, but we have a full day of filming that couldn’t be rearranged.” He says. “We’re almost done filming this movie and they are scrambling to finish it so they can get it edited in time for the release date the end of next month.” He explains.

“Oh. Okay.” You reply.

He sighs, “I’m sorry, Love, I really wanted to be the one sitting here with you as you visited with the lawyer.

You need to make sure you tell her everything, Hun. Including how you got all the scars on your legs and crotch. It needs to be documented that he was the one who gave you most of those scars on your legs and all the ones on your crotch, Sweetheart. You need to tell this doctor too, if he asks. I don’t want them thinking I gave them to you, Okay?”

You nod. “okay.”

“I suppose you’ll be traveling a lot promoting your new movie soon.” You reply sadly, looking down at the edge of the blanket and your fingers. “I don’t know anything about how movies are made, other than what is shared on bonus features of dvd’s and bluerays.” You explain.

He nods. “I know, Honey. I was gonna ask if you’d like to join me and do a bit of traveling. I’ll be going all over the world promoting the film. I want you to join me, if you’re up for it.” He says. “My assistant is looking into seeing what all we’d have to do to take Phantom with, so you’d feel safe.”

You look at him surprised. “Really?” you ask.

He nods. “I wanted to ask you something else too…” he mentions and clears his throat nervously. “Was wondering if you’d like to be my date for the different Premieres I have to go to.” He asks with a big grin and pulls out the tickets from his jacket to show you.

Your jaw hits the ground and you look at the tickets then back up to him. “OH MY Gosh!!! Are you kidding?!?!” you ask. He chuckles as the heart rate monitor increases the beeps showing him how excited you were getting.

“Damn monitor!” you grumble again.

Rich chuckles, “I’m completely serious, Love.” He replies. “I want you to join me for the Red Carpet Premieres of my newest movie so I can show you off and introduce you as my girlfriend before the paparazzi gets wind of it and starts coming up with all kinds of untrue rumors.” He tells you. “I love you, Harley, and am proud to say you’re MY ‘Pretty Woman’.” He grins.

You blush and take the tickets from his hand and look at them. You shake your head, “Am I dreaming?” you ask.

Rich chuckles, “No, Sweetheart, you are not dreaming. Want me to pinch you?” he asks with a mischievous grin.

You laugh and tell him no; he can’t pinch you.

“What do you say, Harley? Will you join me for my movie Premieres and walk the Red Carpets with me? Graham will be there too and said he hoped you’d join us.” he smirked.

“Is THAT why he got me the corset and dress and jewelry?” you ask.

Richard smirks. “He what?!?” Richard asks surprised.

You giggle. “I take it you didn’t know about this?” you ask.

Rich shakes his head, “You’ll have to ask him then, I knew nothing about it... I just asked Scarlett if you had anything worthy of walking the Red Carpet in case I decided to ask you to join me for a movie premiere one of these times, and she replied no. You had just purged your closet and didn’t have anything fancy to wear. He must’ve overheard us talking.” Rich tells you.

“What kind of dress did he get you?” Richard asks now feeling excited you seemed willing to go with him to it, and he was inquisitive, wondering what his friend and co-star picked for you to wear on the red carpet with them.

You grin. “You didn’t see it?” you ask with a raised eyebrow, not sure if you believe him.

“No, he never mentioned it to me.” Richard replies. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

You keep grinning, “Well, in THAT case, I’m not telling. It can be a surprise for you!” you say with an evil smirk.

He looks over at you and gives you puppy eyes.

“Nope, not telling. You’ll just have to wait and see!” you tell him grinning.

Richard laughs, “Fine. I’ll just have to raid your closet when I get to Aiden’s while you sit here, to see if I can get a glimpse of it!” he teases.

“You wouldn’t dare!” you look at him, with a raised eyebrow and fold your arms across your chest.

He just smirks.

“Oooh you men!” you say. “I bet you were the little kid who searched the house for the Christmas presents and opened them early just to see what you got and then wrapped them back up!” you tell him.

He just continues to give you a mischievous grin.

“I’ll just have to have Scarlett hide it elsewhere where you won’t ever find it!” you smile. I have enough hiding places and friends, that we can move it around and you’ll never see it till the night you come pick me up!” you tease. “But yes, my Love, I would be happy to be your dates for the premieres, if the Doctor says I’m ok’d to travel so soon after being shot.” You tell him.

Rich pouts that you won’t let him see the dress, but grins when you tell him that you’ll be his dates for the Premieres. Just then Graham comes waltzing in with Phantom. He looks at the two of you and asks, “Did I miss something?”

Rich goes to open his mouth, and you squeal with glee, “LOOK!!! Rich just asked me to join him on the Red Carpet for the movie premiere!!!!” you say waving the tickets.

Graham grins, “Bout time!!!” he teases Richard, giving him a smack on the back.

“What’s this I hear you bought her a dress and jewelry?” Rich asks with a raised eyebrow, looking annoyed.

Graham unhooks Phantom’s leash and chuckles. “Well if I’m gonna be the substitute Dad for her, then I figured she better have an appropriate gown for the event! I overheard you asking Scarlett if Harley had anything to wear if you decided to ask her to join you and I heard Scarlett tell you no.

I talked it over with the wife and she gave me the go ahead. So, the other day, while you were filming, Aiden, Scarlett and I went shopping to find Harley something worthy of her Red Carpet Debut with you!” he smirks. “And, no, you do not get to see it until you come to pick her up!” he scolds Rich.

“And no, you can not pay me back for the gown and jewels. It’s a gift from Gwen and I for her!” Graham adds when he sees Rich open his mouth to protest.

You giggle at their exchange. “Hey Pops, when you leave tonight, go get it from Aiden’s and hide it somewhere. He threatened to raid my closet to find it!” you tattle grinning from ear to ear.

Rich glares at you and Graham just roars laughing. “Sure thing, Sweetheart. I can do that!” he says. “I know a great place to hide it!” he giggles.

Rich rolls his eyes. “Fine. I get it, no peeking till the night of the party.” He groans.

“Aww, come on, Rich! I promise, it’ll be well worth the wait!” Graham tells his friend. “Now, it’s getting late and you have to be at the studios for 4am, so you had better get going pretty soon!” he reminds Richard.

“Yes, Pops!” Richard teases back.

Graham just rolls his eyes. “Night, Sweetheart!” he says as he walks over to you and gives you a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be up in the morning to sit with you. Want me to get you breakfast on my way in?” he asks.

You nod. “Yes, please!” you reply.

“Anything in particular? Or should I just surprise you?” Graham asks.

“As long as there’s no mushrooms or onions, in it, I’ll eat whatever you want to get for me.” You tell him.

Graham chuckles and nods. “All right. You two have a good, restful night.” He tells you both then gives Rich a pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Rich. She’ll be just fine tomorrow.” Then he heads out of the room and down to his car.

Richard’s phone begins to ring as Graham is leaving and Rich looks down to see it’s Alex calling. He answers it and Alex tells him that Todd is awake. He wanted to see Harley, but he told Todd that it’s a bit early for that. Alex says that Todd wants Harley to check on the store and make sure they get the shipments this week and that the mail gets taken in. He asks Rich if he can come up and get the keys.

Rich tells him he was just going to head out from your room and will stop to get the keys, and that you had already thought about all of that and asked Scarlett to check on the shop and to let the delivery drivers in with the shipments.

Alex tells Rich he will see him in a bit and asks how you’re doing. Rich tells him you woke up a while ago and they’ve just been explaining what has been happening and talking. Alex tells Rich he will have an officer sit with you for the next few nights just to make sure nothing happens. They are hoping they have all of your ex’s cronies but aren’t positive.

Rich thanks Alex and tells him he will be up as soon as the officer shows up. He gets the room number from Rich and gives Rich Todd’s room number to come to. Then they both hang up.

Rich tells you that Todd is awake, and asked to see you. He tells you Alex doesn’t want to tell Todd yet about you being injured by your ex. Rich says he will head up to see Todd and Alex and will get the keys for the shop in a little bit.

You ask Rich to tell Todd you say hello and that you hope he recovers quickly.

Rich tells you he will give Todd your message. He tells you Alex is sending an officer down to stay with you tonight to keep you extra safe just in case they didn’t get some of Ben’s cronies. You nod. “I’m getting sleepy, Hun. Can you make sure to introduce him or her to Phantom so we don’t have any problems?” you ask.

“Sure thing, Love. Now go to sleep and I’ll see you after I’m done with work tomorrow.” He tells you and kisses your eyes closed. He gives you a gentle hug and a long, passionate kiss. Making your heart monitor beep faster again. He grins as you curse the monitor. “Night, Love.” He tells you.

“Night Rich.” You reply. “Good luck tomorrow with filming. I love you. Thanks for protecting me and Phantom today, Sir Knight.” You tell him, giggling

He grins and gives you a bow, extending his arm out to the side as he does so. “Good night Lady Harley, sleep well and have a good day tomorrow, oh Love of my life!” he replies and blows you a kiss before dimming the lights in your room and heading out the door to wait for the officer.

Officer James Eagle arrived and introduced himself, showing his badge and name tag to Rich. He explained Alex wants plain clothes officers here at night to protect you and Todd, so if a cronie does show up, he won’t realize it’s a cop in the room until it’s too late.

Richard nods. “Well, I need to introduce you to Harley’s guard dog otherwise he will not be too happy with you.” He replies.

Rich gets Phantom’s attention and motions for him to ‘come’. Phantom gets up and comes to the door and looks at Rich. He introduces the officer to Phantom and Phantom accepts him as being okay. He licks the officer’s hand a couple times, lets him pet his head and then goes back to check on you.

The officer and Rich watch as Phantom gets up on his hind legs so he can see over the top of the bed. He sees you’re sleeping and then huffs and goes back to his bed and lies down.

Rich thanks the officer and leaves him to sit with you for the evening.

Rich heads up to Todd’s room and visits with him and Alex.

Alex reminds Richard about the court hearing in two days and Richard tells him you’re meeting with his attorney tomorrow with Graham since he has to work all day. Alex nods. “I’ve already talked to her and given her everything we had for the case. Harley will be able to do the meeting via Skype with the Judge. Just make sure it’s set up 15 min before the hearing is set to begin. The Judge will call her on skype when he is ready to start.

You have a pretty good case for a permanent restraining order, but it is always up to the judge. This one is a pretty good one though and doesn’t like seeing assholes like Harley’s ex doing what they do.” Alex tells Rich.

Rich nods then gets the keys and security code from Todd and Alex and calls an Uber for a ride to the shop. When they arrive, he tells the driver to wait for him to return. Then lets himself into the shop, deactivates the alarm, and goes to the desk. He pulls a sheet of computer paper from the printer, tears it in half horizontally, and writes a note for the front door explaining why the shop is closed and when it will reopen, then writes one for the back door for the delivery drivers. He tapes them both to the doors and reactivates the security code and locks the door.

He gives the Uber driver his address, and heads home. When he gets home, he puts the pizza into the fridge that had been left out over night and forgotten about in the hurry to leave this morning.

Then Rich climbs the stairs and heads to bed, exhausted after such an eventful and stressful day.

If you wish to be added / deleted from the tag list let me know:

Tagging:  @fizzyxcustard​​​​​  @thorinthehottytotty​​​ @dumbassunderthemountain​​​@deepestfirefun​​​​​ @thetherianthropydaily​​​​​ @daisy-picking-lady​ @spookybunny-blog​​​​​ @dabisburntnut​​​​​ @emrfangirl​​​​​ @midnight-reader-morning-sleeper​​ @hilary456​​  @criminaly-supernatural​​​​

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Sixty-Two: Your Policy ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha Fugaku ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

He knows it’s going to be one of those days when the first thing he hears upon arriving at work is his father saying, “Sasuke, a word.”

...wonderful. What has he managed to do wrong this time? Sighing and putting his things down at his desk, Sasuke follows Fugaku into his office, closing the door behind him in preparation of a beratement.

The patriarch takes his time, making his way around his desk before taking a seat, leaning back with steepled fingers. “I just wanted to give you a little...warning.”

Dark brows furrow. “...warning? About what?”

“As I’m sure you know, we’re been doing performance reviews the last few weeks. And a few people are, unfortunately, going to have to be let go.”

For a moment, fear flickers in his gut. He...he can’t be one of them, can he?

After a brief pause, his father offers, “...I’m afraid your secretary is one on the list of those we’ll have to let go.”

Sasuke...blinks. Blinks again. “...you’re joking.”

“I’m not. She hasn’t been performing up to our standards, my son. Now,” he goes on, holding up a hand to stop his son’s rebuttal. “I know that the two of you have a rather...complicated relationship…”

Sasuke can’t help an outright snort. Complicated, huh? Yeah, sure. If you want to call a woman desperate for both attention and social standing badgering him into sleeping with her a time or two complicated. They aren’t dating. In fact, in a lot of ways, he’s become less and less able to stand her the last few months. Her attempts to wriggle her way into his social circle (and likely leech off of him, maybe for a promotion) have largely failed, and after indulging her out of a mixture of curiosity and pity...he finds her obnoxious, self-centered, and a nuisance.

So in truth? He’s glad. But he also knows this will rock the boat. Hence the warning.

“So, I just wanted you to be aware that I will be serving her her notice this morning. And I expect a rather brilliant fireworks display,” Fugaku mutters.

“Right...you don’t happen to need any errands run this morning, do you?”

Fugaku snorts, a hint of a grin curling his lips. “No, I’m afraid not. But, Sasuke…” Leaning forward, he braces arms atop his desk. “You might want to...reconsider your policy when it comes to the people you become involved with. Secretaries are just...a recipe for disaster. If you really have to date someone in our company, try another department, will you? Give us all a little breathing room?”

“I’m not dating her,” Sasuke retorts, nose wrinkling.

“Well, whatever it is...it’s going to make this all the messier than it would have been if you’d just kept your business relationships professional,” his father bats back. “Now, you’ve got work to do.”

“So...what am I supposed to do about a secretary in the meantime?”

“I’ll have one of the girls from billing step in for a bit - then we’ll see about hiring someone full time. I’ve already started going through a few applications.”

“Do I get any say? They’ll be my secretary, after all.”

“I think this is something best left to me,” Fugaku replies dryly. “You just...worry about today for now. The rest will follow in due time.”

...maybe he has a point. “All right...thanks for the warning.”

“Figured it was only fair.”

With that grim tiding, Sasuke retreats from the office and instead heads toward his own. Maybe he can position a file cabinet against his door to bar it shut in case she tries to come in and strangle him. He might not be the reason she’s getting fired - it’s rather clear it’s her own fault - but he can picture now how she’ll be trying to spin this to make him the bad guy. Because surely she knows that the end of her career also means the end of this...whatever the hell they’ve got going on. And given how clingy she’s been...he’s really not sure what she’ll be more angry about.

All he knows is...she’ll be very, very angry. Sweet facade aside, that woman has a temper…

Closing his door and attempting to make himself look small behind his desk, he just...gets to work, occasionally glancing up to see if she’s arrived yet.

Five minutes before the day officially begins, she shows up, going about her morning routine...only to pause at an intercom from her phone he can’t hear with the door closed. Pointedly looking at his monitor, he can still feel her eyes boring through the window at him.

Here we go…

While Sasuke is sure his father will be as cordial as he can be (though his base nature is rather...gruff and unyielding), he knows there’s no avoiding the blowup. So when he swears he can feel stomping footsteps, he peers warily around the edge of his screen.

To his honest surprise, there’s no yelling, or screaming. Just a very red, purse-lipped woman collecting her things (very angrily) from her desk, shoving them into a box before making her way to the elevator.

It’s then she yells. Just a few words. Very...vulgar words that make even Sasuke flinch, the rest of the floor surely hearing it (and maybe even the entire building).

Risking a glance back up, he looks to his phone at an incoming comm. “Well...it could have been worse,” Fugaku sighs through the speaker.

“True…”

“Your temporary gal will be here in a few minutes - just give her a rundown, and she’ll be fine.”

“All right, will do.” Letting the ‘call’ end with a long sigh, Sasuke doesn’t bother to get back to work until she arrives - he’ll only have to stop and start again. Instead, he watches the window, only standing when a figure hesitantly steps up to the desk, glancing around as if in search of help.

Opening the door, he takes a moment to look her over.

She’s a bit shorter than his previous partner, and entirely different in build. Whereas the former had been rather lean and almost flat (in most regards), this one is...more rounded, with long dark hair and a heart-shaped face. Her outfit is mostly dark purples and soft blues, and he swears her eyes are huge! It’s like she looks right through him, like a doe in headlights. And unlike her predecessor, who was all edges, attitude, and temper, this one seems...soft, receptive, and attentive.

...she’s adorable.

Blinking, Sasuke balks for a moment. “You’re, uh...the temp?”

“Yes, sir. Hinata Hyūga. I’m, um...I’m from over in billing…? Mr. Uchiha asked if I could cover in light of you...losing your secretary. I hope I can be of help…!”

“I’m sure you will.” Doing his best to smooth out his facade, Sasuke puts hands in his slacks pockets, trying to look nonchalant. “All you really need to worry about is phone calls, and my schedule. Think of yourself as like...my day planner, but in person form. In all honesty, I’m not that busy - my brother’s the one who gets run more ragged. You’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

“O-okay. I’ll do my best!”

“If you need any help with the software or anything, you can ping my brother’s secretary - she’ll walk you through it. She’s an old pro, so any questions you’ve got, she can handle. And she’s super friendly, so don’t sweat it.”

“Oh, I see...thank you! I’ll do my best!”

“Hopefully we’ll get someone new in here quick so you can get back to your right department, huh?” he asks, giving a hint of a grin.

“That would be nice, yes...n-not that it’s a problem being here! In fact, I...I volunteered for it. I’ve never been in this p-part of of the building. And I thought it would be a good learning experience - to, um...to work with one of the higher ups!”

...she really needs to stop being so stupidly cute. She just...oozes charm and sweetness! It’s not fair! “Yeah, uh...well, I guess you can give it a shot and see how you like it. Guess if it’s a good fit, you could always apply for it yourself, if you wanted..”

“Oh, I...I don’t know about that.” Hinata gives a nervous giggle. “But, um...I guess we’ll see! I b-better get started. If I need anything, I’ll...I’ll ping the other secretary.”

“Or you can ask me. I dunno much about the program they use, but anything else I can probably answer if she’s busy.”

“O-okay! Thank you, sir.”

“Please, just Sasuke - sir or Mr. Uchiha are too much like my dad,” Sasuke offers, grimacing slightly.

“Oh, right! I’ll...I’ll keep that in mind. So sorry, I -”

“Nothing to apologize for, Hinata. Don’t worry so much - it’s just a temporary thing. We’ll help you get through it. Besides, we’re the ones who owe you for stepping up to the plate.”

Her cheeks flush a delicate shade of pink. “R...right. Um...okay. Well, I...I’ll see what I can get started doing!”

Sasuke gives a slight smile. “Sounds good. I better get to it, too. Holler if you need anything.”

“I-I will!”

Retreating back to his office, Sasuke sits...and buries his face in his hands with a gusty sigh. Didn’t he just get lectured about this? Why the hell did the person who showed up have to be so...so…?

...well, at least she’s only here temporarily. Knowing that tone his father used, his next assistant won’t be anyone he’ll be likely to shack up with. And...now that he thinks about it...it was Fugaku himself who suggested someone in another department, right…?

For now, though...he’s going to have to grin and bear it. The poor thing’s going to be nervous and behind enough with her new learning curve without him trying to cozy up to her and being distracting.

That’ll just...have to wait.

                                                            .oOo.

     ...I feel like I wrote something similar to this before, but...I'm getting to the point where I can't tell what's been done in this challenge, or maybe things from past events, so...if it's a bit repetitive, my bad xD But I'm exhausted and in a bit of a rush, so...this is what my brain gave me!      ...I love this trope, honestly - it's SO cliche, but...I'm a sucker for cliches, haha~ I'd like to do more if I get the chance, but y'all know how that goes by now lol      Anywho, it's late and I've got a busy day ahead of me tomorrow, so best to call it a night! Thanks for reading~

[incoherentbabblings]

Unspoken Promises

Sitting on the car roof waiting for Zatanna to show up, Stephanie became acutely aware of how their leaving home must have looked to the rest of the family, and makes her think about what want from the future, especially after everything had come crashing down in the aftermath of Brother Eye and the Batman of Tomorrow.  Tim for once isn’t thinking too deep about it.  

2,500 words on Tim and Steph cuddles from YJ #5. AO3 Link here!

So for all my doubt about Bendis (He also liked my tweet I sent him thanking him for making TimSteph so cute so like… that gave me a whump of validation right there) I was so over the moon with his interpretation of Tim and Stephanie’s relationship that it actually got me to write fanfiction for the first time in about a decade (ooft).  I am following in the grand DC tradition of what is continuity in that I am writing as if the Bat’s History is all in tact, but YJ and Teen Titans is just what had been established in the New 52.  How does that work? It doesn’t but never mind that I wanted to write mush

Anyway here is Tim I look at my girlfriend as if she hung the stars at night Drake and Stephanie We have 100% ran away from home which means we are 100% eloping which means yes I will marry you no you don’t even have to ask Brown.

There are like…so many references to past and current stories and dialogue in this, as well as my previous babblings on their relationship.  

Anyway, enjoy!!!

He had a habit, she’d noticed, ever since they’d been together, of holding her face. His fingers had always been cold, but dry, and his palm fit neatly along her jawline. He was always soft with her, and she wouldn’t dare have it otherwise.  When she isn’t talking, and he isn’t smiling and humming indulgently at her wittering on, he seemed to be nothing more than quite content to just hold and stare at her. Like the sun is infused in her hair. Like her and her alone is immune to the anti-life equation, like she is life’s meaning. Like she is so precious that she might be gone the next morning.

 Because that did happen once, when she was left to die without him. Does Tim hate me? She had asked Batman. No. Bruce had replied. He adores you. Always has.

Only now with them lying on the bonnet of Tim’s red car, his stare so openly reverent, Stephanie found herself trusting Bruce’s statement to the dying girl with a broken body (and heart).

He’d been taken from her too, violently and so suddenly that she had found herself talking to a clay program of his, so starved for his face and hungry for his advice… Then again Stephanie had heard from other sources that he’d considered throwing what he’d thought was her corpse into a Lazarus Pit, so maybe they were both reliant on the other to act as a guide.

Those Batmen she’d seen, first the one from a future where she was either dead or under what seemed like permanent house arrest (it wasn’t clear), and then one made of corrupt dreams and corrupt computer programs… They were ones she’d silently promised herself that she would reel in within Tim whenever they reared their ugly, twisted heads. She’d remind him, remind them why they wanted to help people. The two of them didn’t know any other way, not anymore.

How stubborn they were that they scraped their way back to each other.

Stephanie soon grew shy being gazed at by Tim and leaned forward.  One hand tightened in his sweater, whilst the other cupped the back of his head. He quickly got the idea and leaned forward, their lips touching briefly for a moment before she readjusted her position, straddling one his legs to get a firm pressure between her own.

Tim’s smile turned cheeky then, and he began to push up into a sitting position.  Stephanie gave a slight grunt, and forced him back down, hand slipping down his top to grip at his hip. She kissed him deeply.

A bird took off near the car, disturbing some fallen leaves on the ground.  It was still warm enough at sunset to not have to wear a coat, and both of them had opted for oversized sweaters, Steph in her customary purple, Tim in his usual green.  They had been travelling for a few weeks now, enough for the new school year to have started, and yet here they both were, several states down, in DC, nowhere near Ivy University in New England.  The thought made Stephanie giggle.

“Now you have to admit it!” She exclaimed, thumping her head down to rest on Tim’s chest, listening to his heart beat.  Solid.  Warm.

Tim meanwhile was looking awfully smug, one arm cradling her shoulders, pressing their already entangled bodies closer, the other arm thrown up behind his head.  His eyes were shut, and he was smirking.

“I don’t have to admit anything.” 

“Admit it!”

“I was raised by Batman, Stephanie,” – and right on que her eyes rolled up to her skull.  Batman Batman Batman – “I am a stubborn master.”

“Admit we ran from home!”

That got him to open his eyes and stare at her once more.  He was indulging her again, she knew, and she let him do so.

“A Batgirl and a Robin told everybody we were going off to college and then we drove the other way.”

“Because we’re in the middle of an investigation into the –”

She interrupted him, whispering the phrase “Nobody knows where we are!” conspiratorially, as if they weren’t sitting outside one of the most heavily monitored buildings in the county.  But sure, they were definitely back in New England, studying at one of the country’s most prestigious universities.

Not that they didn’t leave with the purest intentions, this investigation into timelines and universes…  However neither had the foggiest clue where to start.  Tim had recalled Dick and Bruce talking of Wally, the idea that something or someone been messing with time or memories. To avoid Bruce catching wind of what they were up to, they had asked Black Canary, and Dinah had suggested magic, which had led them to Zatanna.

Tim knew Bruce knew they weren’t at college.  He just didn’t want Bruce to know why.  This trip was partially for him and Steph to be alone.  Properly.  Without Bruce and his weird secrets and mind games. Without the pressure of fighting crime each night with all its mental and physical traumas.

Without Cassandra bursting through their window with takeout after a night of training, catching Steph in her nightshirt and Tim with his pyjama bottoms halfway up his legs. 

It had been going well, as well as could be expected of two seventeen-year olds going on a targetless road trip.  Tim had enough money to his name to keep them going for more than enough time, and Stephanie didn’t want for much regardless. 

Still, this trip had a purpose, and they both hoped that speaking with Zatanna would orient them in the right direction. 

“I’m just saying,” Stephanie continued, now grinning back at Tim’s softening smile “The only thing missing is the circus for us to join.”

It was almost funny how their conversations always came back to their future together.  They were still so young but they always spoke of what their lives would be, could be, five, ten, fifteen years down the line. 

Not that the circus was a serious suggestion, but it made her point all the same.  They had split off from the family back home, deliberately gaining some distance.  They’d not spoken to Bruce since he’d waved them off, hearing that they’d get the official wedding invite ‘any day now’ (any day now had been going on for weeks at this point, both were afraid to enquire for an update).  They’d not heard from Dick in even more time (something was going on with the Titans, on and off the field, but Tim hadn’t chased it).  Damian and Jason were enigmas as usual to them (coming and going as they pleased).  They’d get the odd photo and message sent from Cass and Duke and Barbara, the three of them seemed to be forming a little huddle, but for the most part, it was radio silence.  Maybe Bruce had encouraged it for once.  Leave them alone.  Let them be teenagers.  They can figure it out if they want to do the superhero gig on their own.

Or maybe that was too forgiving of an assumption of Bruce.

The other day Stephanie had been filming Tim being a dweeb, and she had muttered about making their (hypothetical) children watch this so they could be assured that their (hypothetical) father was never once cool ever.  Tim had just laughed and argued that she was just as bad as he, she was only better at covering it up.  He didn’t flush at the mention of children, and he didn’t call out at her statement at all.  It was a quiet assumption between them, the idea of children (plural.  Both had been so lonely growing up they couldn’t bear the thought of repeating their parents’ mistakes).  An unspoken promise never confirmed aloud.

Seventeen years old and they were already thinking of when they’d be thirty five.  Maybe one near (actual?) death experience each made them grip to that future tightly.  They would have it all.  They would help people until there was no longer a need for them to do so anymore, upon which they could bow out, ready to drop the double-faced world they occupied.

It had been temporary for Tim, initially.  He didn’t so much as want to be Robin as he was at the only one who could be Robin. 

It had been temporary for Stephanie, initially.  She couldn’t let her father go on hurting people, and she was at first the only one who knew what weird, over the top schemes he’d managed to cobble together. 

It was supposed to be temporary, for both of them. 

I can make it all work.  I can make a system that can sustain itself… After all that, I can take care of myself.  Take care of us.  I promise.

 And yet that promise he’d made aloud, mere hours before everything had blown up in their faces – literally – had been a rude awakening that their line of work didn’t allow easy early retirements, not truly. 

That was okay though, not today didn’t mean not ever, or at least, that’s what they had both told themselves at night sleeping in assorted cheap hotels.  The receptionists had always given them funny looks, no doubt Tim and Stephanie probably did look like young eloping teenagers.  Tim had surprised Stephanie in his reaction to their expressions, putting his foot down when affirming yes we want a double bed no not twin singles.  When checking out in the morning Tim defiantly left the bed an unmade mess, as if they were a pair of rabbits who couldn’t get enough of each other, as if trying to earn that slightly disapproving look from across the counter. 

She thought maybe he was tired of people giving their opinion on the two of them being together. 

And ultimately, that is what they were wasn’t it?  Teenage sweethearts running away from home.

And to the circus, if that’s what it came down to.

Stephanie’s buzzing phone and Zatanna’s arrival had brought an end to the feeling of joviality.  Stephanie’s thoughts were being torn in two directions.  She couldn’t stand the thought of her father running around doing as he pleased, and she had a sudden sharp stab of fear for her mother, but she had just reaffirmed that she was staying with Tim come hell or high water.  Tim made the decision for her.  He knew she wouldn’t be focused going forward unless she chased down her father, so gave the both of them a three day deadline. 

“You’ll be focused and I’ll have a start.” He stated.  He was dressed in his uniform, looking somehow both dashing and fragile at once.  What he thought he knew had been shaken again, except for the blonde girl standing in front of him.  The one who was looking at him with a slightly befuddled but still endeared smile. 

“I love you Tim Drake.” She said, ignoring for a moment where they were and what he was dressed as. 

There was a beat of silence.  Enough to make Stephanie uncomfortable.  He had usually always been the first to declare it to her.  Now that she had uttered it first, he seemed at a loss on how to respond.  She decided to prompt him, trying not to sound too desperate when she asked:

“Did you hear –?”

“I’m madly in love with you, Steph.”  He blurted out.  His smile widened until he looked overjoyed.  “I was just about to tell you that.  I was going to tell you I was so happy you were in my repressed memories, too, because I didn’t want – ”

A life without you was how he was going to finish his declaration before she threw herself at him, smacking a kiss on his lips, and Tim saw his world go pink for a moment.

He had been relieved that she’d been in those memories.  She had to have been.  She was the only one, for so long, who knew him as both Robin and Tim.  The Teen Titans had asked and asked but he’d always been so reluctant to cave in, whilst part of his fear of leaving the title of Robin would mean losing Bruce and Dick and Barbara, for what possible reason could Tim Drake have to associate with them?  It was different now, he was Bruce’s adopted son, so their connection could not be severed regardless of him wearing a mask or not, and he had opened up to his friends, slowly but surely. 

She was still the person he wanted to be with him every step of the way.  She’s never cared what title he’d held, she’d cared more about the way he held her.  This was his chance though.  She had always been stuck on the fringes of their generation, not having many close friends outside of Gotham.  If his friends and family could become hers… he just wanted her with him every step of the way.  It was selfish of him he knew, but she deserved a better family than the one she’d been born into, and he had the opportunity to give it to her.

She was gripping the front of his uniform tightly, and he was holding her shoulders.  Leaning forward, he put their foreheads together with a gentle thunk.  Still smiling, he reminded her of the three day deadline.

“Two days.” She pushed.

“Promise?” He looked at her, and she smiled guiltily.  How many broken promises had they made to each other?  How many had they kept?  How many had remained unspoken, for fear of them never coming true? 

“I can’t.” Stephanie exhaled unsteadily, her eyes tearing up. 

He didn’t sound disappointed when he responded, “I know.”  He understood.  Better than anyone he understood the danger of promises and oaths. 

For a brief moment she longed for them to forget responsibilities and be utterly selfish.  Run away to the circus like she’s joked.  Confirm every suspicious look those receptionists had given them for the past four weeks.  Leave behind broken families who didn’t know what good communication meant between the lot of them and start a newer better family in its place.  It was a whim that would remain in her head, but she answered the question she would sit and wait for over the next twenty years if need be out loud, as both a promise to Tim and to herself.

“…But I do.”

Tim didn’t say anything more in response, but looked up at her, his forehead still pressed to hers, and breathed a laugh.  He knew what she’d meant when she’s said I do, of course he figured it out, but he also knew to let it remain out of context.  Another unspoken promise. 

They’d be fine.  More than fine.  He would find his friends and he would take care of them.  They’d scraped their way back to each other for a reason. He couldn’t let her, or Conner or Cassie or Bart or any of the others, slide by any longer.

Another unspoken promise. 

[batwake]

i might be dreaming (i might be dead)

[coughupmoney]

Dead On Arrival

Awakening to a sharp pain in your chest is scary, but also it’s really really funny. It was funny even at the time. I had started my first antidepressant about a month before this incident; Viibryd. I hate to say that I love doing drugs but I love doing drugs.

When I was diagnosed with depression, Viibryd had just hit the antidepressant scene, a new drug that would dramatically decrease the latency period before the antidepressant would take effect. The day I was prescribed, I was told the effects would be immediate. As soon as I took the drug, I didn’t even feel happy--I felt balanced. It wasn’t an “upper”: a perky, pleasure pill. It was a secret ingredient that provided my brain with some homeostasis. As immediate as the effects were, so were the adverse effects; but that is the trial by fire you face when you relinquish yourself to the world of pharmaceuticals.

The stability I was finally feeling was wonderful, but was it worth the cost of waking up everyday at four in the morning with a searing pain in your chest? I’ll tell you two truths: one, that this deliciously, delectable drug exacerbated my anxiety and two, I secretly enjoyed waking up everyday at four A.M because it was something I could count on. I’ve always been comforted by stability even if it came in the form of torment. All I craved was some structure. However, the pain started to worry me.

At the time I hadn’t recognized that this searing pain was an anxiety attack. That diagnosis came later, in the hospital. Day after day, I awoke in pain, my hypochondria sighing in sorrow. For the sear, for the burn, for the meeting of tomorrow. Every attack was greeted with overwhelming fear. Fear that I was dying. That I was having a heart attack. I went to sleep thinking that every night would be my last. Eventually, after I had let this fear build up in my chest, the fear overwhelmed me. So naturally, I turned it loose on my parents. I allowed my screams and cries to fall upon their sleeping ears. I desperately knocked on their bedroom door.

I hear muffled voices and footsteps creaking on the hardwood floor. “What’s wrong?” Father answers through a crack of the door. I’m not sure how to explain the pain that I’m in.

“My chest hurts.” I say, with efforts of sincerity. My fear is that my plea will be disregarded. Luckily, I was first held at the will of my overbearing Father.

For him, my plea was an immediate call to action. “Do you want to go to a hospital?” He responded. “I think I have to.” I said. Here’s where the water works start. How pathetic. I mean at this point, couldn’t you have just quietly driven yourself to the ER? Here we go, become a burden on all those forced to love you.

Father and I were panicked, quickly collecting ourselves and carrying our urgent vessels into the vehicle. Mother, on the other hand, was at ease. What a fucking bitch. She slowly made her way out of bed and into the shower. While she soaked herself in relaxing hot water, I waited in the car clutching my chest. Like, way to make me feel like shit, I’m sitting in this musky-ass car possibly having a heart attack and here you are taking your sweet time probably awaiting my possible death. She took her time, drying her hair, putting her face on, and adorning herself in a beautiful outfit. I was clearly no cause for her concern. Not like I’ve ever been...are you kidding? She finally made her way out of the house and into the passenger side of the car. Fuckin’ bitch. As soon as her door shut, Father hit the road and said nothing. How could he just sit there and say nothing to her while she treats me like nothing?

The closest hospital was only 10 minutes away. The ride halted at a red stop light. We sat in silence for a few minutes. I would assume if anyone gave a fuck about me they would have flown through that stupid stop light to get me some proper medical care. On the outside I was cold, stern, and stoic. WHY HE WASN’T RUNNING THE FUCKING RED LIGHT? It was five in morning, there was no other car in sight. The silence was broken by my Father who needed my Mother’s permission to run the light. Of course she made us wait. For a moment I couldn’t believe it. Until I could. It made so much sense. No ticket was worth the potential danger my life was in to this woman.

When I had finally realized that, I laughed my fucking head off. In the car, my explosion of laughter was grounds for mental insanity. My Mother questioned the validity of my pain-of course-but I just couldn’t stop laughing even as I clutched onto my chest. The pain had not subsided, even when the light turned green, even when we had made our way into the emergency room. The pain remained, but the irony was not lost on me. It was truly funny to me. This was the first time I had the full realization that I meant nothing to her. I meant absolutely nothing. I had also seen my Father for the coward his is. I realized that there was no one that could protect me from this environment and at that point all I could do was laugh. My laughter was rooted in disbelief, even though I had an entire lifetime of evidence that convinced me that this experience was completely plausible. I found this cognitive dissonance hilarious.

I guess with some introspection I realized that the alternative reactions wouldn’t have served me well. This is difficult to describe to people. Like, how am I going to tell you that depression and anxiety has been the worst challenge of my life? That it has given me insurmountable pain, and yet it has saved my life on multiple occasions? I revere mental illness as the miracle reaper of life. It has challenged every molecule of my being to give into death, yet has allowed me to navigate traumatic situations with ease because, of course, with anxiety, I expected all this to happen anyway.  

The rest of the trip wasn’t as eventful. The first course of action included attaching stickers onto my chest to monitor my heart’s rhythms. I remember two things about this scene; I had to take off my shirt, and I was afraid. What does it say about me that I was more concerned with the fact that I would be taking me shirt off rather than being concerned with the probable cause of my lurid chest pain? The technician was sweet. Tasty even, his skin looked soft and I wanted to touch it. From what I remember, I had made it clear to him that I was uncomfortable. I fear that I secretly wanted his pity. I realized that this would be the first time I was going to take my shirt off in front of a man. Honestly, it was hard to not be a little turned on.  I had spent about two years trying to avoid this moment and here my life was depending on it. I took off the white cotton sweatshirt I had fallen asleep in. Sexy right? I laid myself down on the thin, noisy paper availed upon the hospital bed bust. Pieces of my skin stuck to the leather peeking from beneath the tissue.

I knew this was standard procedure, I knew he did this everyday to all sorts of people. It still felt intimate for me. He and I made eye contact while he slowly stuck cold plastic stickers all over my chest. It made me embarrassed. I was a little wet. I was self conscience about my body. He assured me that I was doing great. The technician had no idea that I was slightly turned on and that’s okay with me. But honestly I thought we had a connection. He turned to me and showed me my heart monitor. The technician said that my results were normal. Normal heart rate, regular rhythm and if I remember correctly, he said I had a beautiful heart rhythm. What did I tell you? He loved me.

After we had ruled out that I was in fact not having a heart attack, we moved on to see if there was any damage to my upper body organs. I walked with another technician to get a chest x-ray. For this I had to change into a fabulous white hospital gown that showed off the spine line that led to my glorious plush pyjama pants. This technician was different. He was more personable. He left the room while I changed and when he stepped back in, he lifted my chart from the box above the door. I studied his face as he read my chart. I was looking for hints and tone. How was he going to address me? When he finally looked up at me, he smiled and asked, “How are you liking Viibryd?”

I was surprised but I responded slyly, “It’s pretty immediate actually, I’ve heard that other antidepressants can take up to six months to take effect.” When two people with mental illnesses get into a room together, there's an immediate sense of comradery. As long as someone is brave enough to out themselves first, the bond of emotional strife, taking drugs, and going to therapy is pretty immediate.

“I’ve been taking Zoloft for a while now”, he added.

“How long have you been depressed?” I asked. I was really hoping he’d say “Not very long! It was a temporary thing for me.” That was not the answer I received, of course.

He told me he had been depressed his entire life. That’s it. That’s always it. No one ever just does a stint with depression, it’s always a life sentence. A struggle that starts but never ends. At least, not until you end. He went on to tell met that it’s been an ongoing struggle for him and that he’s only recently been properly medicated. This is another thing that bothers me. Anytime you talk to someone struggling with depression They suffer for so long before they seek treatment. I am curious to know whether this is a folly on culture and institution or just a hazard of the illness.

He interrupted my thought, he had to ask me some health related questions before we did the chest x-ray. The technician jotted down some quick information about my age and medications I was taking. He also shyly asked if there was any way I could be pregnant. I said, “There’s no possible way.”

He responded “You’re not practicing huh?” I quickly wanted to change the subject but instead replied with a stern “no”. I don’t know why I was embarrassed to be a virgin. Maybe I was just embarrassed, about being a virgin and about my body. Two singularities existing in the multiplex of life. Whatever. He lead me to the machine. He placed a heavy lead cover on my chest. I knew this was to protect me from ray scatter.

“Just like the dentist” I joked. He told me that he was going to step into the small boxy closet in the corner of the room to take a few pictures. I stood still. I never thought anything could be wrong with my chest organs, yet my hypochondria sense was tingling. He left to take the pictures. It was painless. When he came back, I wanted to probe him with questions. “So is my chest okay?” My organs? My lungs? Was I slowly but surely dying? Was this the end of life as I knew it?

He spoke casually, “Only the doctor can really tell you that, I only take pictures.”

“That doesn’t help me.” I said.

He turned to me, not as a technician but as a person, and said, “I really think you’re fine.” I smiled and nodded. That is honestly all I’ve ever wanted anyone to say.

He walked me back to a regular hospital room to wait to speak with the doctor. I sat on the bed while both my parents sat in chairs in the corner of the room looking at their phones. Eventually, Father looked up at me, the gleam of screen still in his eyes, and asked how it went. I replied “It was fine”, so that he could get back to his phone.

Soon after, the ER Doctor knocked on the door and walked in. She looked at me hopefully. I feel like a sigh, like deflated air. She was carrying my chart, she flipped a few pages and said that my heart and lungs looked perfectly healthy. She deduced that my chest pain was an adverse effect of my new antidepressant and should subside over time. Of course at this point, Mother chimed in to say “I told you, antidepressants are bad for you.”

The ER Doctor responded, “Actually these symptoms are common while the body acclimates to the new drug.”

I’m not sure if Mother listened to one word that came out of the doctor’s mouth, she only replied, “I just believe that they’re bad.”

The doctor wasn’t sure how to respond. She told me that she was going to give me some Klonopin and beta blockers to subdue the anxiety. I took them both before we left. Within 30 minutes, my chest pain subsided. I felt lightheaded in the best way possible. We walked out of the ER and I listened to my parents talk as I slid back into the car. The only thing Mother had to say to Father about the experience was, “I can’t wait to see how much that bill will be, she shouldn’t even take antidepressants.” And maybe I would’ve cared, if I wasn’t so fucking high.