#i’d just like to offer my reckless optimism that everything will end up fine in s2 🤠

[hillerskaroyals]

what is grief

if not love persevering

[tweepunkgrl]

staying quiet as often as possible

even though the title is from “conversations with friends” by sally rooney, i was mostly reading “sweetbitter” by stephanie danier and was kind of reminded of the type of stories i like reading/writing.

Posting this before my bday! this is a prequel to “come and get me” 

recommend listening to “moonover” by kississipi

For much of the pain that it can cause, a crush can be harmless. It’s fun to have a reason to be giddy, to feel silly and girly. There’s always that rush of excitement when the eyes catch a small glimpse of their person. It doesn’t need to mean anything, just as long as a person doesn’t act on it.

I never act on my crushes. I usually bury it deep inside me, never to come up to the surface. I try to wait until it subsides, and I find someone new to be fascinated with. It’s worked so far.

But miserable is the only word I can think of as I glance to his end of the booth in the dim bar. I’m on one side with my right leg stretched out to hold my weight against everyone pushing against me each time they so much as breathed. He’s on the other side, opposite of me, next to the window with a perfect view of Gotham’s vibrant nightlife. He’s not engaged with the conversation, and neither am I. He’s stuffing fires into his mouth, having already eaten his burger. His hand is languid as he brings a fry to his mouth, and he chews on it lazily.

Jason Todd’s mind is clearly on something else while mine is solely on him.

For about three shameful years, I’ve been fascinated with Jason. No one knows about it, so there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. But I know about it, and each day it slowly chips away a piece of my pride. Especially since he’s dating Rose Wilson. Just made it official two months ago.

Crushes are more painful with proximity, and Jason is skin deep.

“We should ask for the check,” Wally says. He searches for the waitress and makes a small motion with his index finger once he makes eye contact.

I always hated that little tick men do; the little head nods, the look in their eyes where they expect you to do something for them and they don’t need to ask. The amount of space that they need to take up, and the space you give up to accommodate them. The moment someone is required to step out of their way when walking in opposite directions. It’s little signs of entitlement that are only inherent to men. I don’t know, I think I’m someone who gets easily irritated.

The waitress drags her feet to our table, and I understand the lifeless gaze she has as she plops the check on the table. I’d rather be somewhere else too.

She gathers what she cans and gives a curt nod before turning on her heels and walking away. Dick takes the check and slides his credit card into the pocket of the black bill folder.

Jason turns in his seat, placing one hand on the table while the other rests on the headrest. “I’m going out for a smoke.”

Beside me, Kory lifts a single eyebrow. I am impressed. I can’t do that. “Rose told me you quit.”

Jason shrugs nonchalantly and pushes Wally, Dick, and Garfield with his hip, urging them out of the booth so he could get out. “I don’t remember making that decision.”

“I could use a smoke too,” the words are out of my mouth before I could even stop myself. But I do. I really do.

Jason’s green eyes settle on me and my heart is already beating so hard it could burst out of my chest and fall right on the table in front of everyone.

A thing I hate about crushes is interacting with a crush. I become too aware of myself, of all the little movements. I overthink the words I say and the way I say them. I will agonize for days about how my voice sounded when I say hi. Diction becomes increasingly important outside a high school English class. Overanalyzing everything when it probably means nothing.

“I got Camels.”

“Not the menthols, right?”

A corner of his lip tugs upwards and I instantly melt. “No. Turkish Royals.”

“Nice, those are the best ones.”

Kory turns to me with confused neon green eyes. “You smoke?”

Just like Jason, I shrug. “Occasionally.”

I try not to notice the smirk that appears in his face, as though just that one word revealed how charming of a person I could be. I somehow pulled myself out of the booth with grace, despite the nerves that wracked from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. I run my hands down the skirt of my blue plaid dress and take a quick glance at my favorite pair of Jadon boots.

I look up to find his gaze settled on me. Jason’s green eyes roamed over my face, taking it all in before he turned and walked over to the door. I trail awkwardly behind him with my hands clasped together in front of me.

It’s chilly outside, and I quickly take the cigarette Jason offers, already lit and ready. I rest my back against the brick wall, its edges creating indents on my skin. He’s doing the same, but he looks cooler doing it. Dangerous and mysterious.

“Smoking is nicer with company,” he says after a minute passes. He keeps his face tilted upwards, eyes gazing at the lights of the city.

“It’s a very social activity,” I say.

There is something meditative and melancholy about standing and smoking with Jason outside the bar. It could be a result of the empty night sky above us, with the single lamppost illuminating us. There’s something in the way his shoulders seemed tended for most of the time they ate inside, and how distant his eyes seemed. There’s an invisible force field keeping him away from everyone, one that wasn’t there before. I sadly spend too much of my time watching him, and it’s not hard to notice it.

“You don’t come out often.”

“Yes I do,” I say as I take a drag. I feel like a character right out of a Wong Kar-wai movie as I do so. “You don’t.”

Jason exhales and smoke flows out from between his lips. It curls in the air. “Yeah, that’s true.”

It’s silent between us for a moment. And then he says, “I’ve been spending all my time with Rose.”

I nod my head, trying to sound nonchalant. “Makes sense. She’s your girlfriend.”

He has a girlfriend and that means nothing to me. It doesn’t impact me whatsoever.

“That she is,” is his reply.

Our group of friends makes their way to us, laughter and joy strongly resonating from them. It overwhelms whatever atmosphere there was around Jason and me. It’s jarring to be thrown out of a quiet moment and into a loud one.

Dick looks at his wristwatch. “It’s getting late.”

“Ok, grandpa,” Vic laughs. “It’s only 11 pm.”

“Yeah, we usually turn in at 2 am,” Karen says.

“Three am if we’re feeling particularly reckless,” Garfield says.

I step in. “I have work early tomorrow. I should probably start heading home.”

“Aww, Raven, nooo.” Garfield pouts his lips to me.

I snub my cigarette out with the bottom of my boot, and as I walk toward the nearest trash can, I hear Jason's voice. “You live on the east side of town, right?”

It’s startling to see that he seems to know this. But it makes sense since we run in the same circle of friends. “Ummm, yeah.”

“So does Rose. I’ll walk with you.”

“Excellent idea!” Kory says with optimism oozing out of her. “It’s dangerous to walk alone at night.”

Dick seems to like that idea. He looks at me and says, “Send a text when you get home.”

Jason rolls her eyes. “She’ll be fine. I can make sure she gets home fine.”

We’re silent as we part ways from the group. It’s not until we’re a block away that I feel the pressure of his hand on my back. It’s hot, and it burns my cold skin. It’s nice, and I just want to engulf myself in it.

“I have tequila up in my apartment,” I say. “You wanna come up for a nightcap?”

He bites the side of his cheek and says, “Sure.”

[missmentelle]

What exactly do i tell someone who is suicidal but does not want to die (eg wishes they didnt exist but doesnt want to die,has no plans on how they'll die, wtc)? Are they still technically suicidal? Do I tell them to call a hotline? What even do I say at all?

Anyone who expresses any kind of suicidal intent, no matter how mild (including “I would never actually do anything to harm myself in a million years, but I sort of wish I didn’t exist anymore”) is still considered suicidal, and they can absolutely seek help from a suicide hotline. When we are evaluating suicide risk, we start by seeing if the person has any desire to not be here anymore - whether that’s “I want to kill myself” or “I sort of wish I’d just never been born” - and then look for higher-risk warning signs from there. For the record, warning signs that might indicate a person is “moderate” or “high” risk for suicide include some of the following:

Knowing what method they would use to end their lives

Having access to a method of suicide, especially a firearm

Having a time frame for when they want to attempt suicide

Having a detailed plan for suicide

Having made at least one past suicide attempt, even if it was aborted before they actually harmed themselves

Having a diagnosed mental health condition 

Current or past issues with substance abuse

Current or past self-harm, self-injury or intentionally reckless behavior

A family history of suicide

The loss of a friend or loved one to suicide

A recent major life stress, even if it is “positive” - new job, move, end of a relationship, etc.

A recent change in their mental health treatment regime - discharge from hospital, new medication, change of therapist, etc.

Whether someone is at low, moderate or high risk for suicide, the steps for supporting them are more or less the same. Some of the things you can try are:

Encourage them to call a suicide hotline. Suicide hotlines are there as resources for anyone who is toying with thoughts of suicide, even if they feel confident that they would not act on those thoughts. Wanting to stop existing is a sign that you are in pain, and even if your life does not appear to be in imminent danger, it is still appropriate to seek help to cope with that pain in a healthy way. Hotlines are a free and anonymous resource that are available to anyone, and they can be a good starting point. 

Call a suicide hotline yourself, and ask for assistance in supporting your friend. Suicide hotlines receive many, many calls from overwhelmed family and friends asking for assistance in supporting a suicidal loved one, and volunteers receive training in how to assist these callers. They can teach you how to talk to your friend about suicide, point you to some resources, and teach you how to manage your own feelings of helplessness or panic that sometimes come with trying to support a struggling friend. 

Encourage your friend to make a suicide safety plan. You can look online for templates for suicide safety plans, but you don’t necessarily need a fancy template to make one - a simple plan can be just as effective. Basically, making a suicide safety plan involves coming up with a list of things that trigger possible depressive episodes (could include small things, like ‘didn’t get enough sleep the night before’ or big things, like ‘end of a relationship I cared about’). You then want to identify signs that the person is potentially in danger (could be as simple as ‘I start thinking about suicide’ or things like ‘I stop answering my friends’ texts’). Finally, and most importantly, come up with a list of steps that your friend can do to keep themselves safe when they are having suicidal thoughts. This might mean contacting someone (they should create a list of who to contact, with backups in case people don’t answer) or it could mean distracting themselves with TV, a hobby, exercise, etc. They should have enough possible steps laid out on their plan that they will always have at least one effective thing they can do to get them through their rough patches. 

Reiterate that you care about them. It’s okay to just be honest and say “Look, I’m not really sure if there’s anything I can say to make you feel better, but I want you to know that I really care about you and I am here to support you as best I can”. You don’t need to be a trained therapist providing formal mental health counselling here - that’s not what your loved ones expect from you. Just reminding someone that you care about them and that you’re going to do your best to be there for them can mean a lot more than you think. 

Ask your friend what they need. It’s okay to ask your friend directly if it would be more helpful for you to offer advice, or if they just want you to listen to them while they talk about their problems. They may not know exactly what they need, and that’s alright too - the two of you can try to figure it out together. Communicate openly, give them possible suggestions for ways that you can support them, and again, be open about the fact that you’re willing to try to support them in whatever way they feel they need. 

Offer them distractions. Sometimes, people turn to their friends and family when they are suicidal because they want to be distracted from their pain, and not because they want to have an in-depth conversation about all the things that suck in their life. If your friend doesn’t seem to want to talk about what’s going on in great depth, sometimes the most helpful thing you can do is just say “Would it make you feel better if we got some junk food and watched a marathon of your favourite TV show?” Offering to just be with someone and distract them with pleasant things can be more helpful than you realize. 

Acknowledge their pain, and be cautious with optimism. It can be really, really tempting to just bombard a suicidal or depressed person with as much optimism as you possibly can - everything will be fine! You can get through this! It’s always darkest before the dawn! People mean well by doing this, but it comes across as dismissive and disingenuous - it makes people feel that their pain makes people uncomfortable and that they should stop talking about it. Instead, just acknowledge that the other person is in pain and that their situation absolutely sucks right now. Listen to what they say, and let them know that you are hearing them. It’s a simple thing, but it can make a huge difference. It’s okay to provide support and express optimism, but it’s important to be careful about how you do it - instead of “Everything will be fine”, the person might feel a lot more heard if you say “I know everything is not okay right now, and I don’t know when things will start to get better, but I hope that they do and I will be here for you while we wait for that to happen”. 

Stay aware and check in on them regularly. Your friend might be in a place right now where they say they would never hurt themselves, but that can change, and it’s important to check in on them if you feel that their mental health is starting to slide. You don’t need to appoint yourself as their babysitter - their safety is ultimately their responsibility, not yours, and you are not their keeper - but it’s a good idea to just stay aware. If they are not answering messages, or if they haven’t been online in a while, or if they just seem “off” somehow, reach out to them and ask what’s up. If you can’t reach them when you usually can, network with other people in their life to make sure someone has seen them. If you know an important date or event is coming up that could potentially cause them a lot of stress, reach out before, during and after to offer your support. Take care of yourself. Trying to help a very depressed person as a loved one can be exhausting, and it’s important that you don’t also burn yourself out. Try to avoid shouldering too much responsibility here - it’s great to check in and offer support and do what you can, but you ultimately cannot force someone to get help if they don’t want it, and that isn’t your job. It’s okay to take time for yourself, and it’s okay to focus on your other relationships while you are helping this person. Have realistic expectations - this is not a problem that you can fix for someone else. You are there to hold their hand while they go through something painful and remind them that they are loved and cared for, even if it doesn’t always feel like it. Best of luck to you and your friend. Miss Mentelle

[deathduty]

Smash Mouth || Deirdre & Morgan

Deirdre and Morgan have an emotional conversation on the floor. Again. (following the events of this)

Why did all keys have to look the same? Deirdre had tried about a dozen keys (or actually the same key a dozen times foolishly hoping it would work) before she finally found the one that fit into her door. Then she set about the task of turning said key and pushing open her door; something much harder than what her hungover body wanted to handle. Eventually, with great struggle, she managed to walk into her house. The foyer, unsurprisingly, was empty. She assumed Morgan was in the shed, or at the bottom of the pool again. But as she did every time she came home, she waited at the threshold of each room anyway, looking for her. 

Except what she found instead was disarray. Shattered glass, chipped tiles…and she was still in the foyer. Anya, once nestled in her arms, jumped down and mewled, scampering up the stairs and away. Deirdre’s heart sank and she took a shaky step forward. “Morgan?” She called once, in a quivering whisper. She swallowed and tried again, louder, “Morgan?” When the house responded with silence, she moved quicker. “Morgan?” And more frantic. “Morgan!?” Air drew into her lungs rapidly--in and out and in and out in a mockery of the steady breathing she knew. “Morgan!” She was yelling now, throat tight. “Morg--” Her words became choked away with sobbed breaths. She darted into the kitchen. There was a dark stain on the wall. More glass. Dents and holes in places they shouldn’t be. “Morgue?” She called out quietly, pleading. If whatever powers that be could hear her, she thought she might start begging to have Morgan back now, before it was too late even to grovel. But her body tugged with familiarity, and the feeling--like the warmest embrace around her--pulled her around the room. And eventually, into a corner. 

“Morgan?” She asked the slumped body, taking only a moment to confirm the identity. She dropped to her knees, arms outstretched for her. “Morgan?” She kept calling and waiting for a response--calling and waiting, calling and waiting. “Please, my love, are you--are you--” She leaned closer, nearly gone to her crying. “Hey, please, please answer me.”

Morgan had spaced out long enough that she wasn’t sure she was really hearing Deirdre until she was screaming, too distressed for anything her brain fatigue would make up. She peeled her head off the floor, blinking as she tried to get her eyes to focus on real things in front of her for the first time in--shit, she wasn’t even sure what time it was. She groaned, throat tight and rocky with tension. Her eyes settled on Deirdre, slumped before her, reaching out. “You...you really came back?” She rasped, her face wrinkling with confusion. Slowly, she turned her body towards her, reached out a tentative hand towards her, squeezing her hand. Solid. Shit. “You really came back.” The realization struck bitterly. She’d come back to her, for whatever reason, and Morgan had made a mess of the house. Of everything. Morgan looked up at her, abashed. She didn’t know how to explain herself, how to keep Deirdre from rescinding whatever forgiveness she’d come to give her. “I’m...I’m sorry,” she stammered in a whisper.

“Of course, I…” The sentence hung unfinished on the tip of Deirdre’s tongue, struck to an early end by the sheer absurdity of the question. Of course she’d come back. Of course she would be here. Of course there was nowhere else she’d rather be. “What happened? Did someone break in? Was it Kaden? Was it--” Her panicked sentence also met a quick end. She’d just come back from meeting Kaden at Strawford, and the guilt that played across Morgan’s features seemed like it was for more than the telling-a-hunter-about-being-a-zombie thing. “Morgan…” She held her hand back tighter, trying to invite her girlfriend into her arms instead of on the floor. Deirdre swallowed thickly, plagued with her own guilt. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Morgan. I didn’t think--was this because I--” Was it her fault? She wanted to ask, but her heart shed raw from all the crying she’d done last night feared the answer. “Of course I came back,” she settled on instead, always finding it easier to speak about her love and devotion for Morgan than she could anything else. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Morgan crawled slowly towards Deirdre, following her pull. She wasn’t sure how to answer. Earlier it had seemed painfully obvious why, but Deirdre didn’t seem to think so at all. She lifted her gaze upwards, searching her expression for any sign that she was holding something back. “I--I screwed up,” she said quietly. “I scared you enough to drive you away and...and I screwed up. And...you took Anya and one of your bags and I thought…” She hesitated, gestured vaguely with her empty hand. She thought the world was coming apart again, like it always did. “I’m all wrong. I...I thought it would be okay, telling him, that nothing bad would happen, at least nothing worth worrying about, at least not to me. And I know that’s awful and screwy and...it was too much. And then I was just…” She looked over at the mess trailing through the house and hung her head again. “I just wanted everything to stop for a minute.” But instead, she had almost definitely made everything worse. “I can, um, start cleaning up…” She offered feebly.

Deirdre held Morgan tighter, closer, a headache completely forgotten in favor of doing one of the only things that felt right to her in months. How could she begin to explain the breadth of the problem? How much of her heart panged and ached and demanded that she run but screamed to stay? Nothing had been good since she’d grown fond of a human, nothing made sense but the very love that tore apart everything she knew. And then that human died, and now she was stuck in a life she didn’t want and there was no good way to communicate how scared Morgan’s sadness made her. What happened when she decided that being dead was better than being undead? “It’s not--” And how did she start to explain how angry she was that Morgan hadn’t stayed then and had now gone off to put her life in the hands of a man who thought she was a monster. She could understand Morgan’s kind heart, but it was reckless by all accounts. But it was fine now. She got drunk, she groaned about it in the privacy of a hotel room, she shoved all feeling back down where it belonged and she could ignore the rest. “You’d never--” She reached her hands up, holding Morgan’s face. “Do you want a promise? A vow? That’d I’d never--I’ll always--that--” Though, even after all this time, the weight of her love was daunting and the depths of it wouldn’t come as she tried to summon them. “Because I will. I would. Promise you that.” Promise her anything. If only it could help, if only something could. With enough heart, enough good intent---like magic. “It’s okay, I’m not mad.” She was mad, but that boiled down deep inside of her and she ignored it just as well as she did talking about what Morgan had told Kaden. “You don’t have to clean. Please don’t. I don’t want to let you go.”

Morgan melted in Deirdre’s hands. She shook her head pitifully and dragged her arms around her, holding her with as much care as she could. “No,” she whimpered. “You should be able to--I don’t want you to be trapped with me. If it’s too much, you can say, and you can--I’ll understand if you change your mind. I’m used to being--I know this is so fucked, and I make things hard. I know that. I don’t even want to be stuck with this, so why should you?” She brought a hand up to press one of Deirdre’s closer in, savoring the pressure of each finger. “You should only stay as long as you want.” She looked at her with a confusion that begged for answers, however harsh or crushing. “How can you not be mad? I drove you away, how are you not mad? Just tell me. I know it was stupid, just tell me.” Tell me instead of disappearing, she wanted to add.

“I’m not trapped with you. It’s not too much. I’m not stuck---” Deirdre swallowed. There it was. Of course, she knew how much Morgan hated being a zombie, but it always stung to hear, more so when there was little energy left to pretend like she had boundless optimism---or the kind of stubborn hope Morgan once possessed. “You wish you hadn’t woken up, don’t you?” She breathed the question cautiously. “You hate being a zombie. You miss being a witch. I can’t fix either of those things for you, even if I knew where to start. I can’t be mad at you for that, I can’t blame you for it. I can’t be mad that the good part of you felt you needed to tell Kaden. And if he comes to kill you, if he tells some other hunter, I can’t be mad. I don’t know what to--” She swallowed, her lips quivered and her face furrowed together as she failed to stop the steadily growing stream of tears. “I don’t want to be alone again, Morgan. I don’t want to remember what a world without you is like. T-that’s all that this is. That’s all that---” She sucked in a shaky breath, hoping she might save herself from sobbing if she just breathed right, blinked enough and kept her body stiff. “It was stupid. It was stupid because you have no idea how much it---how much---and I know it’s selfish, I know it’s wrong of me but I---I don’t want to be alone. I’m sorry.” 

Morgan could only whimper at the truth she’d avoided telling anyone for so long. “You were holding me, and you loved me, and then I just went to sleep,” she said, voice breaking at the memory. “And I haven’t gotten to sleep since. I can’t find out if it feels better in the morning, or after a nap, it just never stops.” Sometimes she could carry the weight just right, like she had for that day after Beltane. It had almost been normal, a good kind of lazy and staying in bed. So far, though, she mostly felt like she was trudging in place, pulling and pulling, just so she didn’t lose any ground. And then sometimes, she just let go. And something felt cruelly right about how easy it was, even as it made everything else around her worse. Morgan’s body shuddered with the weight of the admission. That the only thing she knew of death and ease and no suffering wasn’t anything she had here, but in that rest she’d had for just a little while. She brought their faces together, clung tighter. “I want to fight it for you,” she said. “I’m trying to fight it. It’s all I have left, I just keep...I get tired. Or I do the wrong thing. I’m not trying to screw it up, I’m trying to be here.” She pressed in harder. “I wish I’d never left the stupid hotel more. I wish we could just be happy like we were. I screwed that up too, I was just trying--” She’d been trying to exist in the world in a way that felt right, even then. “I don’t want to go, I never wanted to go in the first place, I just don’t know what to do! I don’t know how to fix me!” She grimaced. “Don’t be sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t want you to go. Don’t be sorry for still...for still loving me. I don’t mean to make it hard, it just is, sometimes…” She shook her head. “Please don’t be sorry.”

“But it’s easier not to fight. And it’s not like---not like I’m doing much in particular to help and it’s not--” Deirdre snifled. She hated crying, but she kept doing it. It made her feel like a child, and there was no feeling she hated more than that helpless state--grasping at a world so much larger than her, scrambling for any semblance of stability. Why couldn’t she be stronger? Than this? Than everything? Than falling in love in the first place, even, if she dared to think it. “You didn’t screw anything up Morgan…” She breathed, calmed by the act of being near Morgan, focusing enough on the pull inside of her instead of the bubbling darkness. “I’m not sorry that I love you,” she sighed after a moment of silence, unable to summon anything else to say. And what could she say anyway? “I’m sorry that I want you. I always have been.” In her life and in her death, Deirdre had held that guilt. A guilt of knowing how terrible of a partner she must have been, how horrible her selfishness must have made things for Morgan---must have continued to. Maybe someone kinder could do this better. Maybe someone who knew how to manage their own emotions, maybe someone who wasn’t lost herself. Maybe anyone but her; she’d always thought it. She hadn’t stopped feeling racked with inadequacy. It could only be made more clear in the face of the hopelessness of Morgan’s situation, and the thrumming unanswered pain inside of Deirdre. “It’s not hard to love you, or care about you. It’s just hard to be--” The person that she was: the disgrace of a fae, farce of a banshee, traitor to her family. “I wish you wouldn’t have told Kaden,” she interrupted herself, “there’s no screaming for the undead and if something---if--I won’t know. And--I can’t--” She swallowed. “I can’t not know.” 

Morgan sagged heavy against Deirdre, testing her energy with small repetitive gestures, like when they played their touching game, how hard, how soft, each of them in a different direction until it was just right. Morgan suspected Deirdre cheated sometimes, calling ‘fine’ when it wasn’t really. She was so ready to give, to sacrifice, even when she didn’t have to. “Of course you help,” she mumbled, brow knotting. How did she not know? How was it not obvious? “You’re the one that makes it better.” She brushed away the tears coming down Deirdre’s face. She cried so rarely, but it seemed, in an awful way, that she had reason to do it so much more. “I’ve always wanted you, you know? And maybe I didn’t feel as bad about that as I should’ve. I just remember it being like...like a good kind of pull. Like something in me already wanted to fit with you, however I could. Even when we were just talking, I couldn’t stop checking to see if you’d replied yet. So you can’t be sorry for wanting me. I wanted you first. That’s on me, if we’re going that way. I wanted you more than I was scared of cursing you with me. And I guess I still do,” She shrugged. It was a sad fact, but a fact nonetheless. “Oh, Deirdre,” she sighed sorrowfully. She pulled her banshee’s head down to rest on her. The world was heavy, thicker than the thickest fog, but Deirdre already seemed to be in the sinking pit with her. Morgan thought of it like that as she wrapped her up, pressing against her tired to comfort her. “I didn’t realize. Why didn’t you say sooner? He won’t do anything to us. He sees enough of a person after all the weird conversations with alive-me to be saddled with guilt, and enough of a monster to be too scared of getting bit. I told him I would if he ever tried to hurt you. But I didn’t mean to make you think-- I didn’t know you were scared like that already. I didn’t know, Deirdre.” She pressed a firm kiss to her hair and brought her cheek down to rest there. “Tell me how I can fix it. I could promise you something, just tell me what it is.”

But not better enough, Deirdre held her tongue. She didn’t want Morgan to feel poorly for her sadness, or to amass any kind of pressure or expectation to be happier before she was ready to. But the work she did to help...didn’t feel like anything at all. She wanted to know where the mountain to climb was, the person to kill, the seeds to sow or the field to till. Where was the work that helped? What did she do besides blind attempts at comfort? It was hard to tell what worked and what didn’t--and most things seemed like they didn’t work at all. How many times did she need to tell Morgan that her life could be good again? Sometimes it felt like her throat went hoarse with the words. “But I should have...not let you.” As she had been raised to. As her mother had told her, repeatedly, that she was not someone who loved---was loved in this way. Was this the proof? Or was it somewhere in the blood of that dying Morgan in her arms? Would everything be better if only Deirdre could have performed her duty better and shunned Morgan? Would she not have felt happy enough to leave the hotel room? Would she still be alive? Whatever the answer, Deirdre spoke no more about it. Morgan had her own problems, Deirdre was sure the last thing she wanted was this. 

“That’s not that---that’s not the point.” She sighed against Morgan, unwanting to visit that topic either, but knowing she couldn’t avoid it without drawing suspicion. “Even if he was somehow trustworthy, who stops him from telling a hunter friend who isn’t? Who stops the slayer that looks into the reports of scared joggers and nearly drowned swimmers? And it---you need to be---you have to be careful. And when you don’t--when you’re not it’s just---it’s like---” Scary, for one thing. And though she knew it wasn’t personal, she couldn’t help but to feel it sting against her as a kind of slight---as if Morgan didn’t care entirely about the way Deirdre had upended her life. As if her re-death would only end one life, instead of two. How could she go back to what she knew? Better as it was to love Morgan, the worse gnawed at her darkly; this was all she had, wasn’t it? Selfish as it was, wrong as it might have been. But even these feelings were only a fraction of the ones swirling around inside of her; unopened, and desperately kept that way. “There’s nothing to be done.” There was never anything to be done, fate worked in one horribly particular way. “Forget about it.”

Morgan held Deirdre tighter. “You don’t really mean that, do you?” She asked quietly. “That you shouldn’t have let us happen. You’re the best part of my life. We got so much life out of four months because of you. And we...we were happy a little while ago, weren't we?” By the Beltane fire for new growth. Under the stars, and then in each other’s arms all the next day. Morgan kissed Deirdre’s temple hard enough to feel it herself. “Hey, I love you. I don’t want to lose you. So, please,” she murmured. “Please don’t. I’d still do most anything for you. I’d try, Deirdre” She nuzzled her face down to press closer to hers. “Please don’t shut me out. Your heart is the only thing I can still feel like I used to.” Although not very well, if this had been mounting with each successive outing she’d been on. “The only part I have a hope to. And I want to. Know you, understand you, be with you…” She could make herself. She could hang on for that. She pushed back Deirdre’s hair and held her gaze, anguish to anguish. The last thing she wanted was for a door to close between them. It was already so hard to feel her on her lowest days. If Morgan lost the Deirdre beneath the surface, she didn’t know what she would do. “I don't ever mean to hurt you,” she said sorrowfully. “ And I’m so sorry. But let me try? To be here as long as I can. To try to be...careful. I’ve never been so good at that, but I could try to learn. I could make it into a promise? Or something else?”

"You're the best thing that's happened to me, the best part of my life now. Everything's that's good...it's you." Deirdre breathed the sentence with ease, peppering firm kisses to Morgan's face in any place she could reach without untangling them even a little bit. "My only regret is hurting you; not opening myself to you sooner." But how exactly did she explain that by loving Morgan, she'd learned her own life until that point had been terrible? That, once, her duty was the best part of her life and now it simply rang hollow? "But I would take all of the pain I knew before you back if it meant you didn't have to suffer like this, Morgan." Deirdre wasn't special, not in this way. Morgan would find someone else who loved her just as much, loved her more—if that was possible. Loved her in a way that wouldn't have them consistently ending up on the floor spilling feelings. A girlfriend that understood emotion far better than Deirdre could ever hope to. "It doesn't matter," she sighed, "it's just a thought. There's no way to change any of that." But the simple idea of not knowing Morgan, of never having those long conversations or the nights spent together or the enchanting sight of waking up next to her, Deirdre's heart ached. It was a selfish ache, she knew, but it hurt worse than any other. "I'm not—" She swallowed, her face soured at the idea of spilling her feelings, feelings she barely knew how to grasp. She didn't want to talk about it. She didn't know how to start talking about it. She barely knew what it was. Morgan's face, strewn with anguish, asked her gently to share and it was hard to deny it. "No." But her mind could not oblige. "You don't—you don't need to worry about—I'll fix it. It's fine. Don't worry. I'm not shutting you out, I just—" 

Deirdre’s throat tightened and full words could no longer escape. How did she explain that in four short months nearly all that she knew about the world was proven wrong? That all she'd lived for was her family's approval, which was both not here and thrust into impossibility? That she had the suspicion all 32 years of her life were horrible, and they must have been, because of the way Morgan looked at her after she shared a childhood anecdote? That she'd known pride to be the only feeling she was capable of until she was suddenly shown otherwise? That she'd never really grown okay with any of these things, but she had tried so desperately and she was tired of trying things that always resulted in failure? And lost herself, she selfishly clung to the only emotion she knew without question—Morgan's love, her love for her and vice versa. How did she begin to explain how sorry she was for being so dependent on that feeling to help her through the rest, for being so selfish in the first place? What kind of a monster dared to share any of this when Morgan's problems were worse, when what she needed was a stable force, not more insurmountable feelings that weren't even her own? "You don't need to promise me anything. I...what would you even promise? There's no point." Life was horrible, and now it was horrible and unpredictable and she could run the numbers in her head but it wouldn't make anything better. Nothing would, really. Not about this. "I wouldn't ask you for anything, Morgan." She had already taken so much from her, she wouldn't dare ask for anything more, even if she wanted to. "Let's just not...do this. I don't—let me take you to bed? We can watch some Grey's instead." 

There was something achingly familiar about the distress knotting Deirdre’s face. There were all the times Morgan now suspected Deirdre wanted to say how she felt, or explain what her duty demanded of her. And it seemed to be a reflection of her own angsts, of traumas and problems too deep and sharp to extract in one pull. “Sssh, it’s okay. It’s something hard, I can see that now. I see how hard it is. You don’t have to say right now. But sometime. Sometime, please.” She answered each of Deirdre’s kisses with one of her own, firm and desperately insistent. “And you wouldn’t be asking for anything. I want to give you something to help the hurt. You’d just be letting me.” Another kiss, firm and lingering on her lips. “I want to give you so much. And I hate that I can’t all the time. But I’ll keep trying. And we’ll just, uh…” She looked back at the destruction in the house, wincing with guilt. “Cross ‘zombie smash’ off as a coping method that doesn’t work in the house.” She wrapped Deirdre up in her arms again, drawing strength from her devotion, the constancy she fought herself to keep and give to her. Was it bad that she felt a little special, to be worth all this trouble to someone? And at the same time, a little monstrous, for not being selfless enough to let her go, or strong enough to keep from hurting her. Sometimes the alchemy between them was a trick she hadn’t meant to cast, that they were stuck, for better or worse. Some days twice as strong, twice a happy, and others, twice as fucked. She should be sorrier for it, but stronger than the guilt was the relief that she still belonged in the one place where her body felt right. “Bed and Grey’s sounds good, babe, if that’s what you want,” Morgan said into her hair. “I’m guessing you had a rough night too. Just watch your step on the stairs, okay?” She contorted herself into a position where they could stand without letting go. 

Part of Deirdre had expected Morgan to push it more, and there was disappointment and relief that she didn't. In stuffing it all back down, the weight settled against her again, but even if Morgan had asked, Deirdre truly didn't know what to say. "Thank you," she murmured into a kiss. "Sometime." She answered with awe, unsure why anyone would want to hear what emotional distress she was hiding. But, as she'd learned so many times, Morgan wasn't just anyone. "You know just this is fine," she smiled softly, her eyes raking over the damage Morgan had done. It was just glass, Deirdre was far from a stranger to smashed glass, and she was sure she would have done far worse in Morgan's place. There had to be more damage in other places though, considering all her tantalisingly delicate vases were untouched. "Hey," she turned back, fixing Morgan's hair and plucking tiny glass shards out as she noticed them. "Smashing things is fun. You seemed to avoid the decor though. What's all this stuff you broke?" If it helped, even just a little, Deirdre was more than happy to offer vases and plates to the good cause of 'zombie smash'. Moving while staying wrapped up in eachother was a skill they had oddly come to perfect in their time together, and it wasn't so hard to stand and walk while being held and holding back. As it turned out though, Morgan really wasn't joking about Deirdre having to watch her step. Nearly tumbling up the stairs and into their bedroom, Deirdre paused before they would inevitably fling themselves on to their welcoming bed. She leaned in to kiss her again, firm and half-fueled by the anger that settled beyond reach. "I missed you," she mumbled, lingering by her lips. "I know I left—I didn't think you'd want to play witness to my drunkenness—but I missed you. And I know it was only one night and some hours but—" but she'd missed her, so terribly. Even if Morgan could offer no wisdom, nothing more than an apology, if all Morgan had the strength to summon to do was hold her, she was missed. Just her, just as she was, missed. "Although, it did get me thinking about something and…" she reached down and held Morgan's hands, looking into her eyes seriously. "Morgan, do you…" she breathed in, "...want to get another cat? You said you wanted more, before. And Anya is lonely and well...I don't know. But they are kind of cute, and I do enjoy waving that—" Deirdre made a motion with her hands, "toy thing around." 

Morgan pressed her face against Deirdre to give her a better angle on her mangled hair. It was getting long, inching towards how it used to look in college with each passing week. “Just the normal alcohol,” she said. “I tried to get drunk too, and then I remembered I couldn’t. And then my old stuff, in that guest room.” She nuzzled her as she worked. “You really don’t mind the smashing?” Deirdre didn’t hold the same reverence for things that she did. Nothing was special, ever, unless it was a bone or a gift. But it stripped a layer of weight off her, to hear Deirdre talk about it so casually. She guided them up the stairs, remembering mostly where the biggest clusters of mess were and which sides of the hallway to avoid. She kissed her back, clinging to her lip just a little longer, curling her fingers up in her hair. “I missed you too.” She kissed her again, hungrier now that her admission had been made. “So much. It was awful, even if it was barely a whole day.” Which, with anyone else, would have been absurd, but she could tell by the way Deirdre’s voice tumbled out that it was just as hard for each of them, that the pull between them twisted and stung when they were apart for the wrong reasons. “I could’ve stayed in the shed, if you didn’t want me to see. You don’t have to go, unless you want to. I don’t want you to.” 

She let Deirdre take her hands, holding her gaze with a tired kind of gentleness. Then, a semblance of a smile cracked through her face. “You want to get a cat together? Really?” She hadn’t thought of it before, but she missed Anya coming onto her lap when she was sad. She missed a lot of things, but it was hard to stay angry at her when she kept Deirdre company so well. Anya was reaching the point where she would sniff around their bed or the couch or wherever they were laying together and meow curiously before running away, as if asking Deirdre what she was doing with this Not-Morgan. It stung, but it was better than being bit around her ankles for having died in the first place. But another cat, maybe a little leggy six month old? Or a one year old? A little fuzzy sibling Anya could teach about being a cat, who wouldn’t know her as anything other that what she was right now--that stung and twisted too, but it also dangled the possibility of relief. “I’d like that very much,” she said, kissing her again, so soft to her senses she felt she was brushing her lips on moth wings. “We can see what the animal shelter website has. After you’ve had some rest and we’ve made up for the night apart.” The suggestion was so normal it made her body ache and her brain tired and frenzied at the same time with want. But for now, all Morgan wanted was for her world to settle back into what few familiar shapes it still could, mostly around the firm comfort of her banshee.

“There is a way for you to get drunk, actually…” Deirdre started in a small voice, “but it’s not worth the work.” And they had yet to have a discussion around how Morgan felt about human brains. The shards of glass in Morgan’s hair got smaller and smaller until it was impossible for her to know if she’d plucked them all out. Still, she ran her fingers through Morgan’s hair before moving to brush her clothing off. “Things are just things. I can always buy more things. I shattered a lot of things in my youth, you learn to put so little value in what can be replaced. Which is to say...I don’t mind.” She finished, satisfied that Morgan was now glass-free, even if she couldn’t be hurt by it. “Why would you do that…?” She asked softly. Her laid-back attitude to material belongings wasn’t shared, she knew that much. Morgan coveted her things, even if some of the more magical items could no longer be used. “You like your things. You didn’t have to---next time, you can smash the vases. Take a painting and punch it if you want...but don’t take away from yourself.” Even if that part of herself was long gone. “Please?” Deirdre hummed, once again thwarted by the physical limitations of how close to bodies could be to each other--she always wanted them closer, somehow. Her body with its pull to Morgan always begged for her to be dragged in. “It’s worse if you’re in the shed; here but not here. It’s worse. Like...what you said about sleeping in the guest room those nights. It’s so much harder, and it’s already very hard being apart from you.”

“I was just mad,” Morgan said quietly. At her alive-self for having driven herself to the kind of place where she could have lost so much in the first place. Sure Mike and Constance and Remmy pulled the strings, but if she had just been different too, maybe. And then her dead-self for being reckless and angry and screwy enough to damage what she touched without the help of a curse. At Kaden for being sorry for himself and talking about her like there was no coming back. “I didn’t want them to still be there waiting for me anymore. Not those things. But I won’t do it again.” Even she knew that was the saddest, most desperate part of her night. She wasn’t sure how much she had changed her mind about any of those people she was angry with, but she believed in the sadness in Deirdre’s voice. She believed in not making this any worse for them if she could help it.  “Okay?” She asked. “I won’t. And I get it, about being only a little separate. I’ll miss you more, if you ever have to again, but I get it. It’s okay. It’s all okay, babe. Especially the part where we get a cat.”

Deirdre smiled gently, “yeah?” She didn’t imagine flipping through pictures of cats to be invigorating, but somehow doing it together made it all the more exciting. “I’d like to get one, actually. And I’d like that...finding one together.” This felt like some kind of those human-defined relationship milestones, the same way that moving in had, but she didn’t ask Morgan if it was too soon to be thinking of a cat--she figured that Morgan would tell her if it was. “So let’s do that in the morning then…” She trailed off, moving their bodies finally to the bed, settling them in together as they had countless times before. It was strange to think of how much these mundane acts excited her, or how she’d have to live with the fear of death like some human might--but everything, even the horrors, were made better, easier, with Morgan beside her. 

[notconsolation]

6, 7, 22, 23, 36, 54, 60 & 65💞 (or... alternatively all of them like christiana said too...)

hooooeey shall I just do them all? I think I’ll do them all but it might take a while. *time jump* k then here we go. holy shit this is long. you’ve been warned

Have you ever:

1) Self harmed?

yep. got more scars than I like but it does seem to be a very chronic thing for me.

2) Got into a real fight?

previously answered.

3) Been too depressed to move out of your bed?

hi mtv, welcome to my crib, most days it consists of these sheets. why yes, I should probably wash them a little more often and go to lectures more often. shhhhhh.

4) Tried to commit suicide?

I feel like this describes it best

5) Had to lie to EVERYONE about how you felt?

Had to? probably not.

6) Watched an entire season of a TV show in one sitting?

………… is there another way?

7) Talked yourself out of serious trouble?

I’m not cute enough for that shit

8) Accused someone of using you?

nope don’t think so.

9) Shoplifted?

answered previously

10) Gotten drunk/high?

*giggles* who me? pshhhhh

11) Been to a concert where your favourite artist was playing?

answered previously

12) Skipped doing homework to play a video game?

video games not so much………. everything else absolutely. literally anything.

(Right now) Are you:

13) Suicidal?

nah thank god

14) Bored?

My brain is going too haywire to experience boredom, but I’m also not massively interested in anything I am currently doing

15) Avoiding someone?

The librarian, she hates me cause I laugh at my computer screen in the silent section

16) Avoiding some task?

An essay on sustainable agricultural development as it pertains to the international political economy and another one on the arab israeli conflict 1948-82 yay

17) Depressed?

low-key

18) Crying?

my tear-ducts shrivelled up and I sold them on the black market

19) Annoyed with a friend?

Nope, my friends are all great (yes, I am talking about you. you, reading this right now. you’re great)

20) Worried and confused about something important to you?

answered previously

Do you:

21) Get depressed easily?

see I think it’s not something that gets triggered so much as something that I remember is my state sometimes. so I don’t think it’s like how you might get a cold easily because you have a weak immune system. I know I’m avoiding the question. I’d say no?

22) Get jealous/envious easily?

Nah not in general but I do get jealous of attractive guys quite easily, but I never know whether it’s gender dysphoria or attraction. I’m bad at identifying emotions correctly. Oooh also voices. Sometimes I’ll be so in love with someone’s voice that I’ll listen to them ad nauseum and then need to take a break because I’m toxically jealous of their voice.

23) Feel listening to music can take your mind off things?

YES.

24) Worry about messing about your relationships a lot?

hi, haaaaaave you met hannah?

25) Try hard in all your classes at school?

I used to, but I’ve sort of let that go because I’m no longer interested in most of my classes. Back in school I was pretty over-achieving though.

26) Go out drinking?

Doesn’t mix too well with my meds but the culture of drinking here is insane so peer pressure gets to me regularly. yes is what I’m saying

27) Smoke cigarettes?

sí, ma non regolarmente

28) Smoke weed?

是的, but I am not a bad influence I promise, mothers of the world

29) Do any hard drugs?

again, not regularly

30) If you said yes to 28 but no to 29, Why?

doesn’t applyyyy

31) Believe in God/Belong to a religion of your own free will?

answered previously

32) Avoid people you care about because you feel you will only hurt them?

no, I don’t really avoid them, I just don’t unload on them? or talk much? I’ll just sit there and offer silence and hugs because that hasn’t yet gone wrong for me?

33) Agree that self harm numbs emotional pain?

eh? not sure I get this. for me it sharpens reality more than it numbs pain

34) Believe people deserve second chances?

answered previously

35) Agree with ‘An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth’? (ignoring the religious relation to that saying)

answered previously

36) Think things will get better?

My relentless, reckless optimism is probably the character trait that is most surprising given the rest of my personality. so yeah.

37) Feel afraid that you have done wrong and will eventually be punished?

answered previously

38) (be honest) Do you judge people who think differently to you? (seriously, be honest)

answered previously

Preference in partner:

39) Long hair OR short hair?

answered previously

40) (For Girls one) nice smile OR nice abs?

how creepy would it be if you had abs on your face and a mouth above your navel

41) (For Guys one) nice smile OR nice chest?

imagine if your nipples had teeth

42) Shy OR open?

hmm, shy? maybe?

43) Eyes OR body?

answered previously

44) Religious OR non-religious?

I’ll be honest, this is probably the only one I actually have a preference for: non-religious. that is not to say that it’s a deal breaker or even something that bothers me really unless they try to change me. beyond that it really doesn’t bother me.

45) Caring OR non-restricting of you?

jesus. this is some partner you’ve got here. abs on their face, nipples with teeth, binary personality. probably non-restricting, though.

46) Straight edge OR non-straight edge?

hmm, maybe non-straight edge because then we can both make bad decisions

47) Piercings OR no piercings?

I Like Piercings

48) Tattoos OR no tattoos?

tattoos or non-tattooed but without objection to them (i find that people with no tattoos seem to be the ones that most often get personally offended by you having them)

49) Quiet stay-at-home type OR party type?

goodness gracious this really is a polarised person. I’d say probably party if i had to choose one because then they can drag me out. i have fun when I go out, but given my way I’d probably never leave the house.

50) Has friends you get along with OR has parents you get along with?

Friends

Would you:

51) Drink alcohol until you were drunk?

ask me next time I’m hungover

52) Smoke weed?

I feel like we’re beating a dead horse with some of these

53) Smoke cigarettes?

answered previously

54) Get even with someone who betrayed you?

how to bake a revenge cake: step one *chants* egg egg egg egg egg (their house) wait what hmm did someone say something

55) Forgive a partner who deeply hurt you?

probably. but also i am more than terrified of serious relationships so all these boyfriend/girlfriend ones are highly speculative.

56) Attempt to kill yourself if everything fails you?

I feel put-upon with these decisions. I hope not.

57) Keep your faith (any religious view) no matter what?

we’ll be keeping the faiiiiiiiiith, yeah, yeah, yeah, we’ll be keeping the faith *dumdadaDadadaDUmdaaDun*

58) Join a band as a part time activity?

catch me on my t-rex riding into the sunset singing about assholes playing the ukulele (it’s my first EP)

59) Feel sorry for someone who is being affected negatively from alcohol/drug abuse?

Yes.

60) Stand up for your beliefs if someone strongly goes against them?

Yeah, I think so. Not to the point of futile argument and insults, but to stand my ground.

61) Go vegetarian for a month to see what is was like?

Sure thing. it’s nice.

62) Fight someone who was harassing your friends/family?

fisticuffs will be traded if you besmirch the honour of my loved ones

63) Edit photos of yourself before posting them online?

who, me?

64) Put up with friends who constantly hated against something you believed in/supported?

you know, they don’t sound much like friends to me. no.

65) Be friends with someone who was nice to you, but a cunt to other people?

what other people? I mean I think I could be friends with someone who was constantly rude to Donald Trump.

66) Not like someone simply because your friend(s) didn’t like them?

I don’t think so. I might have my opinion of them tainted by my friends’ judgement, but hopefully not to the point where I can’t draw my own conclusions about them.

67) Lie to someone close to you because you don’t want them put up with your problems?

wait haven’t we had this one? I think it’s a bit like question 32. short answer: yeah I guess I tell people I’m fine all the time when I just don’t want to talk about it. But I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t do that.

68) Starve yourself so you fit some certain clothes?

see: this song

69) Get surgery on any part of you? If yes then which part of you?

answered previously

70) Sleep naked?

yep.

you’ve reached the end. congratulations and I thank you for your dedication what a trip it’s been.

[ofasleepvisits]

I’m not where you left me at all

Sometime in late February 2020 I coughed in my boss’s boss’s office and he jokingly asked if I’d been to Italy.

March started and we were aware of growing coronavirus concerns, but we thought life would still be normal.

Everything in our lives revolved around final preparations for our once in a lifetime trip to Spain.

Saturday March 7th

It was the second to last soccer weekend of the season. Our kids would not be attending the final games on the 14th because we would be flying to London the night before. Lyla’s coach told her to have fun in Spain and thought nothing of any chances of us not going. There was talk of coronavirus among the parents, but no one was noticeably concerned. One parent said something to me about it being like the flu so obviously we should still take our trip. The media was probably blowing things out of proportion to hurt Trump. 

That evening when the trip was finally imminent, we sat down to make final arrangements. Mindy is a planner and didn’t like that we had so many details left unaccounted for. We had the big stuff done months ago...

5 plane tickets on Norwegian Air, MCO to LGW Friday night to Saturday morning, LGW to BCN Monday morning, BCN to MCO (connecting through LGW) on the following Monday

The Hilton at near LGW for the weekend, even opting for that first Friday night though we wouldn’t be there until the morning so we wouldn’t have to wait until Saturday evening to check in

The AirBnB in Eixample in Barcelona from Monday to Sunday, the hotel by the airport for Sunday night so we could go straight there after the game, already packed in ready for our flight

And of course the 5 tickets to Camp Nou to see FC Barcelona and Messi play

...but nothing else planned. So that evening, we booked a black cab in London to take us to see the sights. I think coronavirus was on our minds, so we’d stay away from crowds. That would be for Sunday the 15th. We booked all sorts of little things around Barcelona too, the zoo, some museums, some parks, and other sights for our week there.

Sunday March 8th

I checked the weather and realized I needed some warmer clothes so I went to the mall and spent about $200 at the gap on button-up shirts and sweaters. We had bought the kids new sneakers the weekend before I think. Mindy said she’d buy some clothes the next day.

Monday March 9th

I went to work like a normal day. Came home like a normal day.

After dinner you left to go clothes shopping and I read about soccer. Champions League games were scheduled the next two days. Things were getting worse in Spain in terms of the coronavirus. There was talk of playing games behind closed doors, i.e. without fans in attendance. It sounded crazy. Mindy came home around 9p with her new clothes. I told her there was a chance of us not being able to go to the Barcelona game, the whole reason for our trip. We would know more tomorrow I said.

For the first time we talked seriously about not doing our trip.

Tuesday March 10th

I checked online first thing in the morning and it was official, the next two La Liga games would be played behind closed doors. We decided not to do our trip.

Did the heartbreak change me? Maybe

I went to work and told my boss and she seemed surprised. She said she and her family was still planning on doing their NYC trip for spring break.

FC Barcelona sent a nice email about refunds for our tickets being processed within 30 days and that felt good. Norwegian Air and Airbnb weren’t budging for now.

Wednesday March 11th

A potential vendor came to our offices to pitch my boss and me on a product I now forget what it was. He was from France and I remember shaking his hand and thinking to myself, like, maybe I shouldn’t be shaking his hand.

That was my birthday and I’d recorded the Liverpool vs Athletico Madrid Champions League game from the afternoon to watch in the evening. It’d be the last major soccer game with fans in 2020. It was fun to see Liverpool lose. A week later the game would be blamed for spreading since all the Spanish people had flown to England. Months later I don’t think anyone seriously thought that made a difference.

The president spoke that night. He talked of banning travel. We watched selfishly hoping that something he would say would help us get our money back. At this point whatever was going on in the world very much felt like something that was happening to us specifically. I was regaling coworkers with stories of misfortune about a trip of a lifetime canceled.

It was either this night or the next day that I posted on Facebook about how our trip was canceled and we may not get our money back but our family was happy and healthy and that’s what was important and whatever other trite pseudo-optimism works on social media to get supportive comments from distant family and various acquaintances.

Thursday March 12th

We got called into a conference room at work around lunch time or maybe just after lunchtime, 20 or 30 of us shoved into a conference room meant for 15 people, and told that we would be working from home until the end of the month. We could start tomorrow if we wanted. Or we could come tomorrow to gather some things then start working from home on Monday. There were some questions of whether you had to. If I recall correctly, the answer was you didn’t have to work from home if you didn’t want to, you could come to the office during the second half of March. But I may be misremembering.

But that doesn’t matter because by the end of the day we learned via email the policy was tightened to, don’t even come to the office tomorrow. Work from home starts Friday March 13th. No one come to the office until April. My boss wouldn’t be doing that NYC trip.

Friday March 13th

The day was a mix between work and dealing with the Norwegian Air. They kept hanging up on us. They refused to acknowledge the pandemic and how it would be reckless for a family to travel. Our Airbnb host was saying the same thing everything is great in Barcelona, you should still come she said via email.

One final phone call with Norwegian Air around 8p, I think our flight was a few hours later, the rep was like, what’s the problem, flight to Gatwick looks to be on time. How could you in good faith send a family on that flight? Click.

Don't show up, don't come out Don't start caring about me now Walk away, you know how Don't start caring about me now

Disputed the charge with Amex. Posted to Norwegian Air’s LinkedIn. Mindy found the CEO email address and send a message. Something worked, a few days later we got our money back. A few weeks later we got our Airbnb money back. One by one, Mindy got us all our sight seeing money we spent that weekend before the trip back.

Ironically FC Barcelona was the last to refund us because the March games ended up not being played behind closed doors but rather were “postponed,” I guess under the auspice of if they played them in summer with fans we’d be expected to attend. Didn’t matter, the rescheduled games in summer were without fans and we got refunded.

The next week

We made our best of spring break. Tried to recreate our weekend in London with food: Ale House seemed to offer the best fish and chips. Restaurants were weird. Lockdown and quarantine were sort of haphazard, masks weren’t a thing yet. By the middle of the week, everything was closing. We made “paella” and had sangria to recreate Spain. We played Barcelona’s scheduled Champions League game vs. Napoli on FIFA on the Xbox. Work started getting crazy so I really couldn’t take a legitimate week off.

The rest of the year

Eventually the pandemic went on, it quickly no longer felt like something that was just happening to us. Plenty of people had their trips of a lifetime canceled. And much worse, there were job losses and school closings. So we considered ourselves the lucky ones.

Though it took some time to survive you I'm better on the other side

And we really were and are the lucky ones. There were and are millions of people all over the world stuck at home by themselves, the whole world disrupted. Beside that missed trip and the pain of virtual school and the adjustment to working from home, our life has been fine. We just haven’t experienced the pandemic as acutely as so many people.

On a random Tuesday night, the five of us sit down for dinner. Our kids make us laugh. And we realize we are spending time with the people we most want to be with in the entire world. In ten or twenty years we would pay untold sums of money to have what we have for free right now.

[kcrtanakid-a]

   DISCORD LOG ROLEPLAY UPLOAD: “ TEST SUBJECTS ”    w/ @runninglightning​ --- LUNAR CIRCLE ACTIVITY HAS INCREASED IN ALOLA, and     in one unfortunate encounter, Kubo and Raiko witness some of this activity first hand.     With agents under his grandfather working on the islands, Kubo fears that a plot is     being hatched ...

KUBO HE HASN'T BEEN THIS ANXIOUS about a pokemon since Akio got sick three days after the cyndaquil had first came home a little over a year ago. Now he has a pokemon egg balanced in his backpack and a level of uncertainty layered over the already existing stress that had been stirring his emotions for several weeks now. Perhaps it was a good thing Kubo had been focusing more on tending to a pokemon egg than everything else -- his ordeal with Hanzo, the growing divide between him and Thunder, and the closeness to Poni Island -- so close, he could swear he could feel the canyon breeze against his face.

    The boy's hands clenched the strap of his shamisen and his backpack, twisting them out of nervous habit. The egg had been wiggling around constantly. It would probably hatch soon. " RAIKO? Question...when a pokemon hatches, they don't imprint on the first thing they see ... do they? "

RAIKO And she can sense it. WHO wouldn't be anxious over an incoming infant, let alone an EGG. It did not help the carrier and caretaker wasn't exactly the creature's rightful parent, blood-wise. Raiko would have been nervous herself, had it been her responsibility, of course. Sure, the dubious mythical was always willing to help her companion with it every now and then, but nothing else aside from questions like the one given to her seconds ago

" Depends on the POKEMON, I'd say, do I look like a mother to you to have knowledge on this? But in most cases, yeah, of course, silly. Hence, when that egg hatches, don't count on me to be before it when the little one comes out squirming out of its shell."

Her smile is briefly replaced by a yawn, and a look of amusement at Kubo. Sometimes she felt like he worried too much, and it was fun said times, others...she worried too.

KUBO He sticks out his lower lip at her, frowning even though the two of them barely made eye contact. The two of them were staring at the road ahead -- Kubo was cutting through the outer edges of Blush Mountain again, towards Malie City again, where he could properly stock up on supplies and prepare for that final trial the island had to offer. Just his luck that he happened upon RAIKO while doing it.

" I DUNNO. I mean, you are a pokemon, and a female. I thought you might have that sort of instinct..." Okay, that was pretty naive of someone to say, especially from him. " ... Not long ago when I started, I thought, maybe, yeah, by the time I'm near the end of my trials, I'll be ready to raise a pokemon from an egg. But here I am and I'm still... " Kubo trails off, NERVOUS ... " I just don't know if I'm the right person to do that, you know? Souns' like a lot of responsibility, even if its just a pokemon."

    He's practically forgotten that Akio was the same way -- small and only three months old when he was first given to Kubo.

RAIKO Oh, she'd knew that her words would get a reaction out of him, otherwise, she would've not said a thing. Kubo was a boy, and that lead to many ways for Raiko to mess with him and often times, give him a hard time for the sake of good fun. Nothing too harsh though, he had always worried about her, and he deserved more than to be pestered by the likes of an annoying pokemon.

"A female that might be the last if not the only of her kind, remember? Father always reminded me that. Never explained why though, but raising an egg and whatever comes with it or how it happens...? Not my sort of jam anyways. I'd rather have teeth scattered at my feet than soft blankets and food to fatten these muscles, y'know?"

Not that she was muscular, or maybe she was underneath that fur, but it was hard to tell. She was lithe and fast, but Raiko and mostly anyone knew that the thundercat could very well scatter someone's teeth with a single punch.

"You'll be fine, Kubo! Chin up, this female has got your backs if you can't handle a little baby~" More jabbing at his pride, teasing for the boy.

KUBO " HMMPH. " An indignant huff from the boy as he pulls at the backpack strap slung across his chest. Words of encouragement and confidence were appreciated, evident by the small, playful smile that graced his features, but it hid uncertainty and doubt. What kind of person saddles a child with a random pokemon egg? And doesn't even know what it is? Sure, it allowed plenty of opportunity for him to guess and get excited about the possibilities, but his mother had also told him that too much optimism could lead to easy disappointment.

" Well, if I can't take care of it, at least I know not to give it to you then. " The boy deadpans.

    They were reaching the tall grass now, where the rocks and craggy canyons making up the outer rim of BLUSH MOUNTAIN shaped a maze. The breeze here was strong, easily picking up the scent of dried wild grasses, clay, and smoke...

    ... SMOKE?

    " Raiko ..." Kubo pauses and takes his nose to the air.      " Do you smell something? I smell smoke. "

RAIKO The smirk that had taken place in her features due to his response, comes as quick as it had arrived, gone by the scent Kubo mentions. Smoke...

Out and in Alola, bonfires or any sort of fire source was never good, or viable. The canopies and forests were dense, and a spark was enough to light an entire section of a region if placed properly. It gives way to worry, and she can only expect that Kubo will worry the same as well.

The uneasiness can be read by the look in her eyes, under that dark cowl that never leaves her.

"I do."

She remains silent, stopping in her tracks. "A fire around here...it can't be a good signal. Let's take a look, Kubo." Unable to be stopped, Raiko advances, wary.

KUBO FIRE WAS NEVER GOOD AROUND HERE. With this much breeze, it could easily pick up and spread. While Alola was humid, small fires could still prove to be a threat to the local wildlife. He had done more personal research ever since he had met Chirp's former trainer, to better understand the region's environment.

    Kubo zips up the open compartment of his backpack, keeping the pokemon egg and its incubator hidden. Tentative, he trails after Raiko, squinting. The smoke was hardly visible, but now that he thought about it, there was a growing stinging sensation in his only eye, which was causing it to water. It smelled strongly like a bonfire, and like singed grass. The scent trail would eventually lead the duo to a small pass, away from the well-beaten trail, hidden from frequent passersby. Here the grass was incredibly overgrown, thick and prickle-like. The wild grasses poked and prodded Kubo's legs and sleeves.

    Thankfully, they were well hidden, because they'd be greeted by an AWFUL SIGHT.

A TURTONATOR, struggling against the binds of a rope that were digging into its neck, in a virtual tug of war with three men. The fire-type had spouted flames from its snout and was now desperately trying to break free, but the several gashes it sustained indicated that it had grown weak from battle.

    A greninja and a clawitzer were working to put out the flames. Nearby the sight was a small truck--hardly big enough to house a decently-sized dragonite but still formidable. A small group of Charjabug had been corraled by other pokemon, and they were being herded like mareeps into a glass-like tank.

    " THIS IS A WASTE OF TIME. Beheeyem, psychic. " A harsh voice cuts in through the chaos. A Beheeyem, beside the two men who were struggling to contain the weakened turtonator, raises its digits up obediently. Like a leaf, the fire-type cripples, its body lurching and its head rearing up in an agonizing cry. The beast stumbles to its knees, and then crumbles to the ground, slumping in the dirt in defeat.

    ALL THIS. All this -- Kubo's tawny eye widens in horror. It only takes him a moment to realize what was going on. The charjabug being corralled into a pen, and the fainted Turtonator being dragged into a truck. It's Malie all over again --

    " AKIO! SMOKESCREEN! " Such an impulsive, reckless, but determined boy. His blood had boiled so quickly that one could swear Kubo's entire demeanor had taken a 180 degree turn and never looked back. The anger shook in his eyes. No, not again -- he cannot let this happen again. Suddenly his cyndaquil is released from his pokeball, and a plume of smoke consumes the entire field.

RAIKO The scene is horrible, not to her surprise. It had taken her mere glimpses to understand what was happening here, and while it was the first time she had ever experienced one of these situations in person, Raiko takes no time to realize that they must act. She just wishes Kubo had given her some sort of warning or cue to his recklessness, disguised as bravery and as...something else she does not exactly know about Kubo.

"Kubo, wait! -- damn it..."

She could have let him learn from his mistake, or simply not act on behalf of being smart about this, stop him even. But Raiko is certain that the boy is counting on her to not merely spectate, and in reality;as his friend, he leaves her no choice.

Following from behind, Raiko takes out from her cloak a small, cylinder like object, fine and silver-made. Without further ado and with little effort, the object clicks, and from both ends, emerges two medium sized poles. The before harmless artifact had become a battle staff in seconds, that Raiko imbues with electric energy, charging ahead with the staff posed behind her back.

She remembers all she knows, and has learnt, and once inside the blur of a smoke, her eyes get used to the darkness, and for minutes, the crackling of energy and power dances from silhouette to silhouette, leaving bruises and pain behind as the thunder feline's staff collides with flesh, time after time after time...

The battle rages, but not for long.

KUBO " WHAT THE?! ” A startled grunt hollers over the sudden commotion as smoke swallows their field of view. Stunned, the three pokemon -- Clawitzer, Greninja, and Beheeyem struggle to figure out what just transpired, but the latter is the first to act. From the smoke, Pikake, Kubo's determined little Amaura, charged headfirst for the psychic type, but all it takes is a motion of the hand for the Beheeyem to tear the ice-type from the ground and toss it into its own comrades.

    While his cyndaquil, amaura, and Raiko battle in the shroud, Kubo was searching for the rope that was tangled around the fainted turtonator's neck, determined to cut the fire-type loose. " KAZE! Help me with this! " The boy brings his scyther out from its ball to aid in his intention.

    Unfortunately, creating a shroud of smoke also means that he can't exactly see through it either. One of the grunts had found him through the smoke. He was a tall fellow, with spiky, dirty blonde hair and striking blue eyes. They narrowed as they found the wiry twelve year-old struggling to free to the poor fire-type slumped in the grass.

    " AH -- HEY!! " Everything is moving like a blur. Next thing Kubo knew, the the grunt had tackled him to the ground and was trying to scoop him up in a bearhug, but between Kubo's violent writhing and Kaze's quick actions, that only lasted for a moment before the grunt was shoved aside.

" SCYTHAAAH! " the bug-type had elbowed into the young man with one of his scythes.

    Seeing that its comrades were occupied with a cyndaquil and amaura, the leading BEHEEYEM focused on attacking the stronger of the attackers, that being the electric beast wielding the battle staff. The smoke briefly cleared between them, revealing the psychic type with a darkened expression and its digits raised, glowing various colors. " BA-AA-AAAAH... " It drones a monotone, metallic sound before firing Shadow Ball. 

RAIKO She cares oh, so very little about the one who regards her with a ghost type move, seeking to foolishly stop her and wound her. Raiko dodges the attack with much ease, and with no further thought, she zooms in on her attacker, using... "ORA!" ...THUNDER PUNCH, finalizing the beheeyem for good, she hopes. The smoke has began to lightly clear, and not too distant, Kubo's pokemon fight and stand opposing the rest of the enemy's pokemon. Because that is all they are to her, enemies.

"WHO'S NEXT, ORA?!" Flourishing her staff and twirling it at ready, she launches herself ahead once more, like a lightning bolt. The blunt massacre continues.

KUBO Though briefly dazed from the grunt's attempt to tackle him to the ground, Kubo eventually pushed himself up onto his knees, spying the equally dazed grunt stretched out in the grass. All it takes is a squint and quick stare for him to notice a familiar feature on the man's clothing --

    A CIRCLE ENSIGNIA, CONTAINING A LUNALA WITH ITS WINGS RAISED TO THE MOON. The Lunar Circle. " You ... ! " The slow realization strikes horror and disgust, sinking deep into his already steepened bones. Between the boiling rage driving his reckless behavior and the adrenaline coursing in the child's veins, he was almost tempted to lash out and strike with his own fists. But his better judgement tells him not to -- for the sake of the poor creatures being corraled into the nearby truck. 

    Kaze was currently the only barrier between them -- growling and hissing, eager to defend the boy that he had once hated. His actions was testament to how their friendship had grown...and how Kubo had earned the fierce elder's respect.

    Unfortunately however, being the distraction also meant being occupied. From behind the dazed grunt, a DELPHOX had appeared, looming over the bug-type as it emerged from the smoke. The two glared at each other, before Kaze initiated battle.

Darn it, darn it, DAMMIT! " くそ! " Kubo snarled under his breath, stress fueling his words. That left him to try and free the Turtonator on his own, which was tricky because his hands and fingers were shaking so much. His digits struggled to wedge themselves under the binds and pull, to little to no avail.

    Meanwhile, the Beheeyem is thrown aside by the Zeroara's strength, seemingly stunned by a direct hit. Raiko's thunderpunch leaves static radiating across the psychic-type's body. It's comrade, the greninja, had been temporarily occupied by Kubo's Amaura. Their battle concealed by black shroud, Pikake had gotten thrown aside against a nearby tree. The water-type was now advancing on Raiko from behind, preparing to attack with Water Shuriken. 

        Now if only either of them noticed that the flames on the grassy edge were growing stronger...

RAIKO The fire was indeed spreading - had Raiko not been consumed by adrenaline and the ecstasy of battle, she would have taken advances towards this, but now...another opponent approaches, and despite the type advantage, these pokemon were not to be fooled with.

     Greninja were horrific assassins where she came from. She wonders if they are as deadly when puppets to a trainer.

    It doesn't stop her instincts, she hears the faint steps, silent, but not enough. Not attuned, she still doesn't dare let them attack. Their domesticate affairs would be their downfall. Raiko skillfully leap sbackwards, driving the rear end of the staff against the Greninja's features, to leave a nasty bruise in their tongue and nose. She is not done, following up with PLASMA FISTS for a quick finish, various times as she rids herself of her staff momentarily.

It had been thrown up into the sky, so when she's done, the weapon falls right onto her paws, so she can witness another enemy down.

It's now that she takes a look at her companion and his battlers, spotting a struggling Kubo, and Kaze, entangled in a battle dance with a Delphox.  Distracted enough for her. Lightning speed, Raiko powers on and ahead, not deeming the Delphox dangerous enough to utilize her energy on a move, but her staff trusty enough to take them out with blunt force.

She's panting by the end of it all, retaining her staff and pocketing it, hidden behind her back once it has been retracted into the small cylinder. Kubo needed help she could provide, and off she goes,  over to his side. She draws her claws, sharpened by nature and her very being, so she can cut the binds with a bit of effort, one by one and procedurally.

The fire advances, and Raiko is too preoccupied still to pay attention to the now normal smell of flames and smoke... 

KUBO The GRENINJA is easily rid of, its water-typing ultimately doing it in in this battle. A finishing blow with PLASMA FISTS Sends it flying into the craggy canyon wall nearby, where it comes to rest, slipping out of consciousness.

    That just leaves the CLAWITZER, whom, as far as Kubo knows, is being dealt with by Akio. Fidgeting with the ropes still, the boy tries to work as quickly as he could while his scyther is trying to fight off the delphox but with the former at a clear type disadvantage, it was slowly becoming clear that KAZE was being overpowered.

    Thankfully, Raiko rushes in to aid just at the right time, blowing back the fire-type before rushing to Kubo's aid. It's become apparent now that the two of them had the upperhand -- OR AT LEAST, THEY THOUGHT.

    Neon eyes flicker through the smoke, full of fire. Suddenly, the smoke is blown away entirely, revealing the BEHEEYEM. Its hand was raised and flickering vividly, and its pupils were narrow like daggers. Behind it, its master, a middle-aged man, watched stoically.

    " I must say, boy, you're quite reckless for getting tangled for the likes of us. Let's end this child's play. "

    A sudden numbness consumes his and Kaze's entire bodies. One moment he's on his knees, the next, Kubo was being pulled into the air, and made hardly able to move. The Beheeyem's psychic energy worked to briefly incapacitate the trio. Raiko included, the three of them would be blown back, thrown towards the edge of the field, and mere inches away from the wall of flames that had steadily grown in their negligence.

He can feel the heat growing on his skin. But despite his efforts, he found that his muscles refused to respond. The BEHEEYEM was still holding them.

    " QUI-IL ... ! " A shrill cry grabs Kubo's attention for a moment, distracting him from the new feeling of fear that had overtaken him at being paralyzed. The smoke had cleared to reveal -- much to the boy's horror, his loyal cyndaquil pinned down and held at the neck by the Clawitzer's massive claw. The fire-type had a number of bruises on him.

" A - AKIO!! "

    " Normally, we don't take hostages, " Hisses the older man. " But my orders are to collect pokemon for a certain ' test of strength ' if you will. I suppose we could do with a few extras... " His indifferent expression briefly falters to allow a darkening smile.

    Kubo tries to twist his body, but finds that he cannot. The final unopened pokeball on his backpack strap was wiggling, as though the pokemon contained inside was fighting to escape it.

RAIKO Against her anger and her now boiling blood, it is all over as fast as it had began. Raiko is subdued by an opponent she had thought had collapsed for a decent amount of time if not permanently, the might of the psychic type enough to forcer her to her knees, and then, to her certain doom, had the force been enough to toss them into the flames.

      But they are instead left mere feet away from the flames, and briefly, the heat does graze Raiko's skin, earning a pained growl from her as she barely manages to pull away, retracting her hurt arm before being forced to the ground once more. She tries and tries to stand and overpower the psychic type, to no avail.

"D-DAMN IT! I C-CAN'T--!"

The fury that burns in her eyes towards this stranger is unfathomable. Were she to break out of the invisible hold, she would truly show what her claws were capable of...

KUBO While the two of them struggle, the rest of the pokemon that were being corralled from the start are slowly being loaded into the truck. The terrified Charjabugs scratch at the glass walls, fearing the fate that might await them. The Turtonator is heaved into the truck's hull, caged in a fireproof container with holes for it to breathe. Meanwhile, the leader of the small band of grunts looms, looking indifferent to their toils and the growing flames nearby. His BEHEEYEM maintains its psychic grip on Kubo, Kaze and Raiko, glare steeling.

    " You're a strong looking pokemon. You might be of use to us. " But as the Beheeyem encroaches on the trio, a flickering red light catches Kubo's attention and a snap is heard. WHAM.

Proud, sharp antlers gleaming with electric energy, Thunder bursts from his pokeball and slams into the clawitzer keeping Akio pinned. The impact is enough to send the water-type flying. It collides with the truck -- and while not enough to even tilt it, the collision does leave a small dent. While Akio tries to catch his bearings, Thunder charges for the Beheeyem next, eyes filled with fire and antlers glowing.

    THUNDER USED X-SCISSOR!

The Beheeyem braces itself, but finds itself unable to counter quick enough before the VIKAVOLT strikes. The attack is enough to tear its focus away from the three individuals it kept immobilized: suddenly, Kubo feels mobility regained in his body again.

    The boy's first instinct was to dive for his cyndaquil. The poor thing was terribly wounded and semi-conscious. The boy scooped him up, cradling him in both arms and keeping Akio close. He would have to tend to his wounds later, however. They had to focus on the task at hand. 

    " NAMI! Dowse those flames! " Now that awareness had come back to his brain, he decided to do something about those flames next. Raiko could use this opportunity to attack the Beheeyem and Delphox -- the latter of which, had recovered and was now charging back into battle. Kubo brings out his LAPRAS, who starts spouting water from her jaws in an attempt to fight the growing blaze.

RAIKO She'd been forced to drop her weapon of choice the moment her knees had found ground, the strength and will to even hold it snatched from her as if it was nothing, but, just as easy as it had been taken from her, it had been returned. Nonetheless, the staff was several feet away from her, and to run for it would require time. Something she did not have plenty of. Her own paws would have to suffice, they always had anyways.

If the fire was being taken care of now, that meant she could continue to focus on what was next. On WHO. The Delphox is standing once more, and Raiko assumes her battle stance before them, blocking their path from Kubo and his wounded. A hiss; the Zeraora using all four of her limbs to charge and impulse herself forward to use PLASMA FISTS against her opponent.

The searing pain in her arm is a reminder that someone has to pay for this, there where fur was burnt and the skin exposed, Raiko found the need for retribution against the one who was responsible, and such did not mean the pokemon she currently fought, slaves to a twisted cause.

KUBO Overwhelmed by both Raiko's plasmafists and Kaze's Wing Attack, the Delphox is quickly dealt with for good, the mythic's attacks finally knocking it unconscious. Grunts retrieved their pokemon -- all but the BEHEEYEM, who was still having a final tussle with Thunder. The lightning beetle had locked his antlers around the psychic type's neck, shocking it violently.

    " SIR! We should retreat! "

    " Agreed. We already have what we need here. We needn't stir up anymore chaos. Beheeyem! "

    The Beheeyem finds just enough strength to tear Thunder away from its neck, and before the lightning beetle has the opportunity to strike again, his foe is transformed into red light and returned to its pokeball.

    The truck was already beginning to start, its engine spouting and wheels grinding into the dirt. The sound makes Kubo's stomach twist, as he quickly realizes that they still hadn't rescued the pokemon inside.

    As the truck begins to move, he shouts. " RAIKO! THE TRUCK! "

    It's headed right for them!

RAIKO Had she been on her lonesome duty, Raiko would have leaped up and onto the truck to cause further mayhem among these villanous people. But alas, she was not in the presence of solitude, and as she realizes this, she comes to understand that the truck seeking to pulverize her, is seeking too, to pulverize Kubo and the aching pokemon in his arms.

Whether if he would have reacted or not, Raiko takes no risks - her leap is decided, and within seconds, she embraces Kubo, tackling him out of the way and into the ground, to her unfortunate skin, through foliage and down a small diagonal hill of which she takes the hurt of after taking a beating's worth of two to three seconds, rolling. Just when she'd thought that she'd be leaving without the possibility of bruises. It didn't matter, the situation at hand was too dire for her wounds to really be her priority. Once her body has absorbed the collisions, Raiko sprawls her arms out and releases Kubo from the safety of her arms, somewhat exhausted after all this. Perhaps not the phsyical strain, but the one caused by the now gone Beheeyem. She remains silent, hoping they are now safe, and expecting Kubo's words to eventually come as they lay there, the ground their very temporal home.

KUBO Everything blurs past. Suddenly, Kubo finds himself engulfed by fur, his face buried into Raiko as she tackles him, with Akio still sandwiched in his arms. With muffled yelps, the three of them roll downhill into the safety of the foilage, narrowly dodging the speeding truck. The rest of Kubo's team that might have stood in the way had moved out of its path long before then.

    After a final tumble, they roll to a still and the battered thundercat releases him and his pokemon from her embrace. Kubo takes a few moments to orient himself. He's dizzy and disoriented, and quite frankly, his stomach was feeling a bit nauseous. Raiko had taken the brunt of the fall, leaving him with only a few minor scratches.

    Kubo lays there, gasping, trying to catch his breath. When the dizziness finally begins to clear from his head, he starts to push himself up on his knees, shaking free leaves and twigs that might have gotten stuck in his hair.

" RAIKO... " With Akio resting between his arms, Kubo prods her, double checking that she was still conscious. "Are you all right?" 

RAIKO She was laid on her side, truthfully awake, yes, squirming some as she rises up right eventually. Her form is rough, beaten - the many scratches and cuts Kubo didn't endure, Raiko did, and it shows by the many little red gashes on her arms, back, abdomen. But those aren't her main worry. On her arm, something that shouldn't be there had found its way into her bare skin, where no fur was. A sharp enough rock had cleaved skin, and pierced it, small but still somewhat broad enough to the size of two fingers. She removes said intrusive object with three of her own digits, and the crimson dribbles. It hurts more than it appears to, and it shows by the way she responds, grasping the one wound that stung the most of them all.

"I-I'm fine."

Kubo seemed okay enough, he had had no trouble so far, but the pokemon in his arms...it's what worries her. "I-Is Akio okay?" Her teeth grit, both in pain, and in anger. All for nothing it had been, and she wishes her pride hurt more than the situation itself. So many innocent lost...

KUBO

" Shh, hey. Take it easy... " He speaks with a softness unheard by most, urging her to be gentle with her own wounds. A tawny eye danced over Raiko's figure and had to keep itself forced open when he spied the rock piercing flesh. Ultimately it wasn't a fatal wound, but it definitely looked like it hurt.

    In the distance, NAMI could be heard, letting out long, terrified moans, probably worried about her trainer. The rest of his team, which had ducked for the foliage, was already making their way to them -- Thunder, Kaze, and Pikake hobbling close behind.

    Their trainer was about to ask if any of them were hurt -- besides AKIO of course, where the pain was obvious. But that reminds him -- his backpack -- the egg! Kubo had completely forgotten about it in all his reckless adrenaline. Feeling regret surge in his chest, the boy throws his backpack off of his shoulder and unzips it, digging out the incubator.

    Momentary relief rushes through his chest. Miraculously, the egg had remained completely intact, unscathed -- though the incubator glass was a little scratched. " I'm sorry... " He hummed in remorse. " I must have scared you, didn't I...? "

    He places the incubator down and takes his cyndaquil in his arms again, cradling his companion. " He'll be okay. But he needs to rest... " Kubo fishes out a potion from his backpack and applies some around Akio's back and neck area. The poor fire-type seemed to go limp in his trainer's grip -- although Akio was alive, he was clearly exhausted.

    A painful realization seeps into his thoughts then, as he recalls the  fainted TURTONATOR that they had witnessed earlier. With dread in Kubo's voice, he grimaces. " RAIKO ... the truck. They got away with them... "

RAIKO The egg.  She feels a wave of dread run down her veins and spine- they both seemed to have realized it at the same time; remembered, with Kubo rushing to check, and Raiko's gaze snapping to the backpack. Luckily, it was fine. Thank the heavens it was. Raiko feeld as if half the tension in her shoulders had rised and left her be, but only momentarily.

Using but her legs and feet, she pushes herself backwards, so she can bring her back to rest against a fresh, cool rock. Thank Arceus she had left her poncho behind, otherwise, the tattered mess it was already would have not made it out of this. But it is the least of her ponderations, for the boy's reminder pierces her pride like a bullet, a look given to the red that stains her paws.

"They did..." "I-I'm sory Kubo. I...couldn't let you be hurt there."

KUBO

Kubo withdraws Akio as the realization sets in, letting the fire-type rest in his ball. As he reattaches it to his backpack strap, he watches Raiko rest herself against a nearby rock. " You just saved me though. Thank you... " Through the sorrow in his voice, the youth expresses genuine gratitude. Another desperate call from Nami beckons him. The LAPRAS was probably panicking. She was slow and sluggish on land, making it down here would not be as easy for her.

    " Raiko ... let me help you up. I think Nami's worried. "

RAIKO "It's nothing, kid. It's what friends are for, right...?" 

Had the outcome been any different to that of Kubo's safety, the possibilities that Raiko would have endured would have been much worse than some cuts and bruises. She could barely stomach the thought or the possibility of such a scene, so she prefers to snap back to reality. To Kubo's voice, which she eventually pays heed to, using her left paw to bring herself up, along with her feet and back still to the fresh stone supporting her weight at the moment. Whatever help Kubo was speaking of, she would accept it, as soon as it meant getting out of here soon enough. The place reeked of bad choices.

"O-Of course, let's get a move on, Kubo."

Her entire body was a sore, dull mess. After so little time, the aftertaste of battle and overexerting the capabilities of her body is strong, Raiko understands that she has some attuning to do of her abilities. For now, she hopes Kubo's Lapras won't be another sore sight. 

       She wouldn't be able to tolerate any more...

KUBO Kubo aided her up the hillside, stumbling every so often whenever he swore he felt Raiko's weight start to give in onto him or whenever the underbrush snagged and scraped his clothes and skin. As they made their way back to the clearing where the battle had been engaged, Kubo allowed himself to take in their surroundings.

    NAMI was fine, just panicking, having been slowly inching her way as best she could towards the slope where the duo had tumbled. Her cries eased as soon as she saw the little patch of red clothing and scruffy hair that distinguished her trainer from all the others. " URR-uuuuw. " She coos to the two of them as they are helped along by their trainers.

    As for the clearing, all that remained were scorched patches of grass and forest, and tire tracks, where the truck had sped off. No signs of the pokemon that had been gathered into the truck remained. They were gone.

" That's it?! That's all that's left? They're all gone... " The dread in his gut twists into anger and frustration. Monsters. He didn't want to believe how true his mother's words were, even as their reality played in front of his very eye. The Lunar Circle is just as disgusting as those other cruel organizations, rounding up pokemon and forcing them into inhumane conditions.

    LITTLE DOES HE KNOW, THAT IS ONLY THE LEAST OF IT.

    Kubo grits his teeth, and slams his fist into the dirt.

RAIKO The discouragement felt and that feel devoid of any satisfaction does too crush her, perhaps not in the same magnitude as Kubo, or perhaps, more. The boy seemed to have had a personal vendetta within this, but for her...this was more than a personal ideal. Those pokemom were her kin, her blood as the gods had made pokemon kind and humanity to exist. The former had been subdued before her eyes, and captured without a hint of humanity, or to begin with, morality.

"--I'll find them, Kubo. They're not going to get away with this."

She hopes her words do not fall in an empty promise, not because Raiko sought to disappoint or to be lacking in her efforts, but because sometimes, life gave not hope of succeeding in one's goals, no matter how hard you tried, or how she clenched her fists in anger - or how faster she ran and pursued. Sometimes there's too many heads to cut and not enough swords.

KUBO WHAT SHOULD HE SAY? Pursuit seemed like the most right choice to take in this situation -- to an outsider who knew little about this organization and its history. For him, this was personal -- for him this group was family, blood relatives, conspiring against the world and chasing after some unknown goal ... Kubo WOULD want to find out, except his mother's warnings lingered in his mind, and his own personal fear of being labelled as one of them if he shared is knowledge of them hung close behind that.

NO, THEY'RE MONSTERS. THEY KILLED YOUR FATHER, KUBO. THEY'LL TAKE YOU AWAY FROM ME!

He might just have come a little closer to accepting his reality, but it still stings like a wall. The twelve year-old slowly pushes himself up onto his knees, staring at the tire tracks left behind by the truck, which has long vanished.

 ... WHAT WERE THEY PLOTTING?

LOG END.