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[the-boxcar-brats]

With you there, Nia. Maze, super creepy.

[elizabeethan]

Spaces Between Us Chapter 11: Strong

The hardships of real life separated them six years ago, and Emma has been struggling to put that fact behind her ever since. But then, only after she’s convinced herself that she’s moved on and that her new life is enough, Killian Jones comes back.

A Captain Swan Modern AU

A/N: Oh no my hand slipped and I posted early again

This chapter was hard to write, and it might be hard to read. Some heavy stuff happens so please take care of yourself and read the warnings! As always, if you need more information, please please message me. 

***This chapter includes a scene containing descriptions of domestic violence. Please message me for more details if you need to***

Thank you, as usual, to my beta and friend @the-darkdragonfly, and to @donteattheappleshook and @xhookswenchx for listening to my ramblings and helping me figure out the plot to this <3

Read the Rest

Read on Ao3

Read my Other Stuff

~~~~

If there’s one thing Killian was not expecting when he woke up this morning, it was this. In fact, this has been the furthest thought from his mind for months. When Emma assured him that Henry is not his son, he believed her and forced himself to drop it. 

 He would gladly raise her child as his own, if she would allow him to do so. He would help them to escape her abusive husband, getting them out of the state entirely if he could, and he would act as a father figure to her boy. 

 But when she walks towards him in the hospital that afternoon, her eyes bloodshot and her face red and swollen as she cries some more, he hears the last thing he’d ever expected to hear. 

 “They want to do DNA testing,” she tells him softly, her voice croaking and rough in the aftermath of her violent sobs. “A… a paternity test.” 

 “Emma…” he tries, but nothing else will come out. 

 “I’m sorry. The pulmonologist says there's no way this is from him being premature. It’s really bad, and he says it’s got to be genetic.”

“I know, love, but… I just thought…” 

 She's silent for a moment, and it’s as if she doesn’t even want to try and speak. Finally, she inhales deeply and forces out her explanation. 

“The weeks before you left, we were fighting all the time. And then we would have sex to numb how much it hurt, and the whole time, I mean… I was bad about taking my pill. And once you left I was still bad about it, but… if I got the date of conception wrong…” 

 He nods, though he’s having trouble understanding her as the world feels blurry still. Despite his confusion, though, he runs his hands up and down along the length of her arms. “He’s still so small, though.” 

 “He was five pounds, eight ounces when he was born. Which is tiny, but Dr. Whale said that a stressful pregnancy can impact birthweight. And… I mean, I spent my pregnancy with Walsh. I lost you.”

 Taking her hands in his, he squeezes and begs her to look into his eyes before he pulls her bottom lip from between her teeth and wipes away the tiny trace of blood left behind. “Love, are you sure about this?” 

 He watches as she begins to break again, the tears immediate and her breathing quickening until he pulls her in for a tight hug. “If this is true-- if you’re his dad-- that means I put him through this for no reason. What kind of a mother does that make me?”  

 Although he’s overcome with confusion and a difficulty accepting what seems more and more likely to be the truth, he’s also overcome with the need to comfort her. So he shushes her gently, kissing her head, and whispers, “you're the best mother in the world to him, my love. You did everything you could to protect him. If this is true, we can leave, and I'll be the best father I can to him. Together, we’ll make up for what he’s been through, I promise.” 

 “I don't want to do this to you,” she cries, and although she grips him tightly, he can feel her pulling away. “I don’t want to put you through this.” 

 “There’s nothing I want more than to be a family with you and Henry. Even if he isn’t my son, I'm going to get you out of Storybrooke and I'm going to treat him like he is.”

 She holds onto him for a while, letting her breathing even out and probably deciding whether he’s telling the truth, and he considers the weight of their situation. He never thought he would be a father. Once things ended with Emma, he thought it was over for him and that he would never move on and be happy enough to start a family with anyone else. Then, when he found her again and with a child of her own, he thought he would at least be happy enough raising someone else’s son if it meant being with her. When she so firmly and believably insisted that he did not father her son, he believed her and tried his best to move on. 

 Now that the possibility is dangled in front of him once more, he isn't sure he can survive the heartbreak of being proven wrong once again. 

 But when he thinks about the lad who has Killian’s mother’s eyes and Emma’s round cheeks and an attitude that couldn’t possibly be inherited from such a horrible man, his heart clenches in his chest and he can’t bear to not know. He can’t go through life without knowing whether this child is his. He wants him to be his so very badly. And even if he isn’t… he may as well be.

 “What do we need to do, love?” he finally asks, giving her assurance that he’s in this with her no matter what they find out. 

 She sniffles, looking up at him with glassy red eyes and asks, “are you sure?” and he nods with firm resolve and a soft smile. She returns it and explains, “they can do a paternity test right now. I can pay for rapid results and find out in a few hours.” 

 Brushing the hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear, he nods again and leans down to kiss her despite the fact that they're in public. They're hidden in a quiet hallway, but the possibility that anyone can walk in on them in each other’s arms is real. “I’ll pay.” 

 “Killian, no--”

 He cuts her off with another kiss, this one more heated, and then says, “I’ll pay. However the results come back, I want to be here for the lad. I’ve missed five years already, let me start making that up now.” 

 She sighs and kisses him now, holding him as close to her as she can as she cradles the back of his head in her hands. “Should we talk about what this means?” she asks softly, voice barely above a whisper in the quiet hall. 

 “All it means is that a part of me may have been with you all along. I can take comfort in that. It means I have a reason for being so fond of your son, other than him being your son. It means there’s hardly any reason for us to be apart ever again.” 

 “Aside from my potential murder,” she jests, although it feels heavier than any joke should. 

 “Hush,” he quiets. “I told you I'm not letting anything happen to you and I meant it. We’re going to get this sorted out now, alright?” She nods, her nose running along his cheek. “Now, are they going to stab me with a needle, or can they simply swab my cheek?” 

 With a snort, she asks, “what, you can handle a bunch of tattoos, but a bit of blood work is too much for you?”

 “Oy,” he argues, tickling her playfully until she giggles and buries her face in his neck. “I’ll do anything for that lad, I swear. Just… a cheek swab is a bit less uncomfortable.” 

 “I’m sure a cheek swab would’ve been less uncomfortable than 39 hours of labor, too.” 

 “Alright,” he concedes. “Come, now. Let’s find out the level of torture I’m about to endure.” 

 ~~~~

 It’s hours of sitting behind the desk, torturously staring at the clock and willing it to turn to 8 pm so she can leave. Tink doesn’t deserve this shift; it’s a complete waste of a day, and hardly anything exciting has happened. One would think that the emergency department at a hospital would be more busy, but Storybrooke is a small and sleepy town. The only thing that’s happened today is a little boy getting checked in for his asthma, and if nothing transpires with what was discovered after he was admitted, it’ll feel like a wasted shift. 

 As if his ears were burning, the elevator opens to reveal something very exciting indeed: the mayor. He hurries towards her, leaning over the desk with a sense of urgency that Tink suspects is purely for attention and votes. “I’m looking for Henry Oswald,” he insists. 

 She blinks at him and cocks her head, turning to her computer for show, although she already knows what’s about to happen. “Do you have ID?” she asks when she sees the kid’s chart, concealing her smirk. 

 The mayor grumbles something about her not knowing who he is and the slightly sadistic side of her cackles. The cackling gets louder when she takes his ID and shakes her head, giving him a falsely apologetic look. “I’m sorry, sir, I can only allow family into his room.” 

 His face is nearly unreadable, but she sees the way his eyes widen threateningly when he asks, “excuse me?” in a deceptively calm tone. 

 Not falling for his playacting, she repeats, “only family is allowed in the room at this time.” 

 “I’m his father,” he insists. 

 Tink shakes her head. “Not according to his chart, sir. The name on your ID does not match the name listed here.” 

 “Let me see that.” 

 “I can’t, sir, it’s a confidential medical record. Only his parents are allowed to see his information.” 

 He slams his hands against the desk and shouts, “I’m his father! What the hell is wrong with you?!” 

 Honestly, Tink should work on her tendencies to rile people up. But when she heard about the drama with the mayor’s son not actually being the mayor’s son, she was sort of hoping this would happen. She didn’t vote for him, anyway. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to lower your voice and take a step back.” 

 “I’m not lowering anything until you let me see the kid!” 

 “Sir, I’ll have to have you escorted out by security,” she insists, pressing the button under her desk discretely and watching the security guards rush into the waiting area. 

 The mayor shouts in anger as he’s hauled away, threatening to sue the hospital and insisting that Tink is infringing on his rights as a father. She smiles softly at the image she saw earlier, of a small boy sleeping away in his big bed and his father diligently guarding him from his firm, uncomfortable chair. 

 ~~~~

 Killian wanted to go for her after finding out the truth about Henry-- the fact that Walsh isn’t his father and Killian is-- but she was terrified of leaving him alone for even a second without the protection of the sheriff, so she insisted on going. He didn’t take that lying down and made her promise to stay in the hospital where it’s safe, so when he fell asleep in the hard folding chair, she kissed his forehead and snuck out of the room and down to his car. 

 It’s strange how easily she’s been able to accept the events of the day. It started with her having a mental breakdown over her husband’s maltreatment of both herself and her son, and has evolved into her feeling a sense of completion. Things are starting to feel right. Her life is falling into place. 

 Killian is Henry’s father. 

 She can continue to stress over the fact that she was too consumed by the pain of losing him to even consider the possibility later, but for now, she focuses on getting as many of Henry’s things as she can and stashing them in Killian’s squad car before she goes back to the hospital to be with her son. Killian can bring all of his stuff to his apartment later, so that she doesn’t waste any more time being away from him or being in this damn house. 

 She smiles as she grabs his favorite stuffed animal, Mr. Quackie, and pushes it into his small backpack before reaching for his nebulizer and placing that inside as well. She grabs Goodnight Moon and his favorite copy of Henry and Mudge, and just as she’s reaching for the rest of his clothes that she has laid out on his bed, she hears the front door slam. 

 In a panic, she shoves his clothes into the duffle bag as quickly as she can and zips it up, but she isn’t sure how she’ll be able to leave the house without him knowing. The squad car is parked outside, and while she was initially worried about taking it for fear of Killian getting into trouble, she’s glad she has it now. Maybe if he thinks the Sheriff is here, he won’t do anything. Maybe she can climb out the window without being seen, sneaking back in the front to grab the keys from the kitchen and making a break for it. She doesn’t need any of her own things, just the contents of the small backpack slung over her shoulder. 

 Just as she makes the rash decision to head out the window, hoping that the roof below the second story will be enough to ease her to the ground, she feels a hand on her shoulder yanking her back inside until she’s on her back and looking up. She’s never seen him look so angry-- she’s never seen anyone look so angry. He glares down at her through fury and rage and she fears what’s to come. 

 “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asks simply, seething through his teeth as she gulps and attempts to stand. He stops her by pressing the toe of his boot, still wet from the snow outside, to her forehead. “I said what the fuck is wrong with you?”

 “Um--” 

 “I just left the hospital. The school called, and when I got there, they said only Henry’s family can go into his room.” 

 She tries not to dwell on the fact that the school called him because she knows that they were required to do so. She also tries to ignore the fact that he waited almost eight hours before going to the hospital to look for Henry, able to put the thoughts of anger out of her mind and replace them with relief at him not being the father of her child. All she can do now is gulp and stare up at him in anticipation for what he might do to her. 

 He removes his boot and lets her stand, and just when he steps to the side and she’s tricked into thinking that he may let her leave, he throws her onto the small bed and screams, “his family?! How convenient is it that the hospital thinks someone else is Henry’s father?”

 “Walsh,” she tries, but he’s on her before she can go on, pressing his forearm to her throat to silence her with just enough force for it to hurt. 

 “And now you're here, in the sheriff’s car,” he hisses, spit spewing across her face as he berates her. “If you tell me he isn’t mine-- if you stuck me with this life for six miserable years for absolutely no reason-- I will fucking kill you right here.” 

 She lets out a sound that should indicate the damage he’s doing as he increases the pressure of his hold, and he lets go only long enough to replace his arm with two hands. He squeezes hard until she starts to see stars, clinging her hands to his wrists in an attempt to claw him away from her and open up her airways again. Instead of letting go, he lifts her by the neck and throws her back down against the bed with more force than she knew was possible. He screams some more, but her world is going dark and she can’t make out a word he says to her. 

 Her lips start to feel numb at the pressure he applies. Her eyes feel like they’re going to pop out of her skull. Her desperate movements at his hands weaken, and she truly believes that he means to kill her. He means to end her life as punishment for falsely saddling him with fatherhood. She has the realization that she’s about to pass out and probably die, and then sees her son’s face flashing before her eyes and is reminded of why she’s here. Not just why she’s in his room gathering his things, but why she’s here on this earth. What purpose she serves as a person. 

 She’s a mother. 

 No one can take that from her. 

 No one. 

 She lifts her hands from his, finding one last grain of strength, just enough to plunge her pointer fingers into his eyes and make him scream in painful anguish as he finally releases his hold on her. She takes the deepest breath she ever has and ever will again, and feels more sympathy for Henry than she ever has before because nothing has ever been scarier than wanting to inhale and being incapable of doing so. 

 Walsh cries out, swearing at her and calling her names before he throws her onto the floor, causing her to lose the wind in her lungs once more. But she’s committed to fighting back now, and she won’t let him win, so she kicks him hard between his legs so that he falls beside her and then moves to stand herself. 

 Grabbing the small backpack, the one that at least has his nebulizer in it, she feels Walsh's hands grabbing for her ankles as she starts to run. She makes it down the stairs and grabs the keys off of the counter, wishing she had just kept them with her, when he cuts her off. He raises the stakes, too, because he’s standing three feet from her with a gun she had no idea he owned and a wild, murderous glint in his eyes. 

 “Are you gonna shoot me?” she asks, her throat and neck burning as she speaks. 

 “I really, really want to.” 

 “What about your reelection?” she taunts.

 “Fuck you.” 

 She glances around the room as she stares down the barrel of his gun, and realizes she isn’t scared. It’s the icing on the cake, the fact that he’s had a gun in the house that her five-year-old lives in the entire time and never bothered to tell her. She’s furious. 

 So she picks up the crystal vase on the counter and he laughs, asking what she’s going to do with it when he’s standing there with a gun to her head, and she tosses it at him. It’s his grandmother’s, and he wouldn’t dare let a family heirloom shatter, so he drops the gun and catches the vase. She grabs his golf club as she runs by the bag he’d left by the entrance of the kitchen, holding it like a bat as he turns to face her again. 

 “You’re not his dad,” she confirms finally, her strength giving way to the cocky attitude that she’s been wanting to give him for months. Years. “The sheriff is. And I’ve been fucking him for months.”

 He growls in the back of his throat, grumbling something about her being a bitch, and rushes her foolishly. She swings the golf club with all of the force that she possesses and knocks him and the crystal vase to the ground, taking a deep grounding breath when he remains still, and then hurrying towards the door. 

 ~~~~

 She parks outside of the sheriff’s station, unsure of what to do next. She knows he can’t do anything to her here, and she doesn’t want to go to the hospital where Henry could see her. She also doesn’t want to let Killian see her like this, because he was right all along. 

 She always thought that a part of Walsh must've loved her, just a bit. She thought that he would never hurt her, because she’s his wife, and that’s just not how things are done. Killian was right, and she should have known better. 

 She remembers hearing a statistic in college, back when she wanted to be a social worker, about how battered women are in the most danger when they try to leave their abuser. She never for a second saw herself becoming a statistic. 

 ~~~~

 The sheriff’s car had been parked outside for twenty minutes before Deputy Ruby Lucas decided to take a peek and investigate why he wasn’t coming inside. When she finally does look, she sees something she would never have expected. 

 Of course, she figured out they were having an affair pretty easily. It’s not like they were being discreet about it, after all. But Ruby never suspected that the sheriff would lend his town-appointed vehicle to his mistress. 

 She likes the mayor’s wife well enough, even more so upon finding out how little she regards her husband. The man’s an absolute terror and she’s never liked him, and always struggled with how someone could possibly have found enough good in that man to marry him. Of course, finding out that Emma doesn’t actually like her husband very much was a bit of a pleasant surprise.

 She taps on the window on the drivers side and the woman inside jumps, staring up at Ruby with wide eyes filled with terror. “Are you alright?” Ruby asks her through the glass, and she watches as Emma grimaces as she turns her head to face forward again. Suddenly and with great clarity, Ruby’s astute deputy skills kick into gear as she notices a deeper-than-normal shadow on the woman’s neck and realizes what’s happening. “Where’s the sheriff?” she asks. 

 Emma says, “the hospital,” although her voice is rough and sounds strained. 

 Ruby wants to turn on her flashlight and take a better look at the woman before her, but thinks better of it so as to not spook her. She leans down so that she’s more on her level and says, “can you come inside with me? We can call him.” 

 She watches as the frightened woman reaches her hand up to her neck and cringes away from her own touch before undoing her seatbelt and exiting the car, her eyes wide and fearful as she looks around the empty parking lot. 

 Ruby has never seen someone look so terrified in all her years as deputy. 

~~~~

~~~~

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[masterjedilenawrites]

The Helmeted Hunter: Chapter 3

Boba Fett x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Light swearing, a little action at the end?

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

< Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter >

Chapter 3: A Shocking Turn of Events

You could feel heat in your cheeks as you stared at the notice over the counter. In addition to your picture - which had been taken by one of your friends almost a year ago - and what you assumed to be your name, there was also a number listed. Those symbols you did understand. One million. You weren't sure how much money that was worth out in these parts, but it sure was a lot of zeroes.

Something hit your hand. Boba Fett was trying to hand you a bag with your items. You numbly took it and followed him out of the store, careful to keep your face turned from the creature behind the counter as you passed. It hadn't so much as glanced in your direction, but you didn't want to take any chances of it recognizing you as a wanted fugitive.

Back outside, the light was starting to fade. You kept your eyes trained on the bounty hunter in front of you as you made your way back to the Slave I. Wasn't he lucky, you thought bitterly, getting a big paycheck out of you. What would he spend it on? More razors?

But of greater concern was how in the galaxy they had gotten that photo of you. And how they knew your name. Who even were they? You tried to wrap your head around it, tried to comprehend what was really going on. You were far from the planet you'd originally landed on by now. How were there already notices up for your capture out here? And why only you and none of the others that had befallen a similar fate? This was far more than some fluke cosmic accident.

You'd been caught up in your dazed thoughts and hadn't noticed the hunter had stopped walking. You pulled up abruptly, nose brushing against the jetpack sticking out on his back.

"Sorry..." Your voice faltered on the last syllable. Looking over his shoulder, just in front of the Slave I, you could clearly make out a row of stormtroopers. They had guns trained in your direction but otherwise their stance was relaxed. Still, you decided to stay behind the bounty hunter.

"Well, well, if it isn't the infamous Boba Fett," a drawling voice came from behind you. In one swift motion, Boba turned and moved to the side, keeping you behind him. He had his gun out now, which shifted between the stormtroopers on his left and the newcomer on his right.

The man was clearly some Imperial whoop-de-doo, with a sweeping white cloak and a smart-looking hat. He had two soldiers in dark armor flanking him as he languidly drew closer.

"I should have guessed you'd be the first to jump on this opportunity," he said with a smug expression. He made a show of sizing the bounty hunter up, taking note of the bags both you and Boba were carrying. "Though I must say, a shopping trip is a bit premature."

"What do you want, Krennic?" Boba replied. You could sense the same irritation in his voice from earlier.

"That's Commander Krennic to you now. Much has changed since our paths last crossed, Fett."

You'd only heard of the Empire, its influencing not quite reaching your home. A few of the neighboring planets had Imperial outposts, but they were small and poorly funded, with many of the stationed personnel integrating into the culture as friendly citizens. Your parents had explained your planet was too far out of the Empire's way to spare resources conquering it.

Now that you were face-to-face with the real Empire, you couldn't help but feel even more out of your element. Your stomach twisted at this dramatic but intimidating man as he stopped just a few feet away. The stormtroopers from the other side had moved closer as well. Was he the one posting your face around the galaxy? What did the Empire want with you?

When Boba didn't respond, the Commander drawled on.

"But we can catch up another time. The daylight is fading and I have other things to take care of. Come now, hand her over."

Instinctually, you reached out to grab the back of Boba's sleeve. You did not want to be handed over to this man.

"I don't have business with you," Boba said evenly. Thank God, you thought.

"One million credits says you do."

"I have an offer for five."

Krennic's mouth twitched as he considered this. You were surprised as well. Not only did it turn out the Empire was the group willing to pay a premium for your capture, but there was a mysterious other being willing to pay more. What in the world....

"Impossible," the Commander eventually said with a chuckle. "You're trying to raise the price. Such tactics won't work with me."

Boba reached around and took hold of your arm. "If she isn't worth it to you, then I have no business here." He started to lead you away.

"You don't have a choice," Krennic scoffed. He flicked a hand at the stormtroopers, who started closing in around you. Boba let go of your arm so he could support his gun with both hands. He carefully positioned himself in front of you defensively.

A surge of panic welled up within you, making your throat dry and your jaw clench. You didn't want to be anyone's prisoner... the Empire's, Fett's, the other buyer's.... You still had it in the back of your mind that you were capable of surviving on your own. Your thirty-nine hours of experience hiding on a strange planet was surely proof. So with a blaze of unwarranted confidence, you turned on your heel and began running.

Your feet pounded the loose dirt beneath you as you took off. You could hear shouts and blasters firing. One blast hit the ground just to the side of you, the rest you could feel blowing past your head before they made impact on the buildings in front of you.

Damn it.

You'd hoped that being so valuable would mean they wouldn't shoot at you. But apparently the price was still good even if you were injured.

Suddenly, Boba Fett was landing in front of you, having used his jetpack to catch up. He had his gun lowered but was trying to grab at your arms. You only had your bag of tampons and clothes to use as a weapon, thus you promptly swung it at him. He let it fall pathetically against the armor on his chest, snatching it up before it fell to the ground. It was enough of a distraction to buy you a second to run past him.

You could no longer hear the blasters. You stole a quick glance over your shoulder to see that while the stormtroopers weren't booking it like you were, they were still close enough to shoot. But they held their weapons down, looking back at their Commander hesitantly. The man was speed walking over to them, pointing and yelling.

You turned back around and saw their problem. Several yards in front of you was the group of kids from earlier. They had stopped their ball game and were watching in horror at the scene playing out in their town. Some adults, their parents most likely, were rushing for them, crying for their safety.

A dark, selfish thought came to you. They wouldn't hurt these kids. Surely. If you ran with one of them, just long enough to get inside a building somewhere....

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you sprinted on. There was one little boy who hadn't been snatched up by his parents yet. He was frozen to the spot, eyes wide and mouth agape. You made a beeline for him, moving your arms out in preparation.

And then suddenly, you were on the ground.

Sharp, fiery pain radiated up and down your body. Your muscles spasmed. Your throat constricted. Your ears were wringing. Something cold and wet trickled from your nose. You felt paralyzed, unable to move or cry out in pain.

You stared helplessly up a the dull orange sky until, eventually, it all faded to black.

[capricornus-rex]

A Path I Can’t Follow (10 - End)

Chapter 10: Duel of the Fates | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: It was a matter of life and death—the question is, should it be the life of many or one, the death of many or one? Cal Kestis makes what ought to be the biggest and hardest decision of his life as he is pitted with a question of high stakes and morals. He descends to the Dark Side and becomes an Inquisitor. A choice he openly made for the sake of saving you, even if you didn’t know you needed it until it was too late.

Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis

Notes: Finally finished! Thank you to everyone who has been staying tuned to what could be my biggest (in terms of word count) SWJFO yet! I hope you enjoyed it and my other fics, and also hope that you’ll still be there when I make more! Lots of love! 💕

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 | Previous: Chapter 9 | Masterlist

10 of 10

Cal clutched back your hands on his face, savoring their softness after yearning for your touch. He wasn’t sure what to say, he kept silent while avoiding your eyes. Impulsively, you pull yourself close to him into an embrace which he gladly returned, relishing your warmth as you tightened your hold around his back.

Over your shoulder, he notices the pair of antennas poking out—he knew that it was BD-1. He was relieved that the little droid has regrouped with you.

“What happened to you?” you whispered in his ear.

His eyes wandered all over the place, searching for the answer. He didn’t know what to say. He gently pulls away from you but never let go of your hands.

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, no,” he weakly chuckled. “I’m fine, see?”

His assurance didn’t really console you, he knows well enough not to take you for a fool—he feels that you can sense it too within him: the Dark Side of the Force.

You didn’t want to startle him with your questioning, but you wanted to know everything all at once whilst a part of you still doesn’t want to believe or perhaps isn’t ready to believe. Cal saw the troubled look in your eyes—the way your eyebrows furrowed, how your lip trembled even if you’ve bitten it, and the shallow rapid breathing.

“BD told me that… you went with the Grand Inquisitor… And Razh! He told me that you gave the order… at the village, you… slaughtered them!” you rambled away, your thoughts out of sequence. “W-Who is the Grand Inquisitor?!”

“Razh and BD didn’t tell you everything.”

From that reply, the worst of all your assumptions have been confirmed. There was no need for more questioning; you have the answer to everything you need to know.

There was a churning feeling in the pit of your stomach, your heart was pounding so loudly that you were out of breath just by trying to calm it down.

“What do you mean?”

“What a droid couldn’t understand is my reason for doing it,”

BD-1 trilled loudly, obviously confused and shocked at what Cal had said.

“What reason!?” your voice cracked, your tone becoming more demanding as the moment passes.

On the other hand, Cal understood where you were coming from; you were in a state of shock, of course you’re confused and can’t comprehend everything going on right now. You came to him for answers, although they were answers that you never hoped and perhaps weren’t ready for.

“I should’ve told you way back then,” he muttered, blankly staring at the floor.

“So, you were hiding something from me then?!”

“If only you knew what I had to do to save you,”

“Save me…? From what!? From the Grand Inquisitor?” you pointed at him. “From you!?”

One thing piled over the other. You had sensed something wrong with Cal back then, even when you were still recovering in Razh’s house. You hated yourself for not sensing it much earlier, had you been vocal about it and brought it up with him—even at the expense of his comfort in talking about it—then you would’ve averted this entire disaster.

The blast door behind Cal jerked open. Out comes the Eighth Sister back from the dead. You didn’t even realize it, your legs were moving on their own—you backed away in a fearful shock, discovering that you apparently didn’t kill the Mirialan Inquisitor.

“It’s you!” The Eighth Sister exclaimed at her discovery, the longing to exact her vengeance on you immediately took over her actions, she briskly ignited her lightsaber, ready for a second round.

“No, you’re not taking another step!” Cal growled.

“Screw that, I’m gonna get a go at her for dropping rocks on me!”

“I SAID NO!!!” Cal, with a great ferocity, roared again and stretched out his arm at the Eighth Sister and an unseen wave—as violent at the Fourth Brother’s in their first encounter—threw her right back into the metal hallways and locking her there in the process by busting the control panel.

You witnessed how strong Cal had become—obviously stronger than you—and wondered if this was the work of the Grand Inquisitor and the Dark Side that has seeped into him. All of a sudden, your fear of him was starting to outweigh your love for him.

It felt like time had stopped ticking for that one moment.

Cal’s heart pounded loudly through his chest, despite the flurry of emotions wounding between you and him, it was beating rather in a calm rhythm.

Every plea you uttered, echoed and then drowned by the eruption of geysers. The hot wind pricking your cheeks. Your breathing was unstable and shaky, gasping in hiccupping beats as you fought back tears.

You cannot deny it: his descent was imminent.

“Please, Cal,” you stepped closer to him so that you reach to touch his face. “Stop this. Stop this and come home with me.”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “Don’t you see that this is the better choice? A choice that either you or I should have done a long time ago?”

You unconsciously shake your head, but he didn’t notice.

“[y/n], if only you knew how it feels, all this…” he looked at his hands, then looked around him, gesturing at the expanse of the Empire’s hold. “This power, it’s something I’ve never ever felt in my whole life!”

“Please stop, you’re scaring me, Cal…” you cracked.

“Stay here with me, I’ll protect you like I always do—I’ve become stronger already, [y/n]! All this strength that’s been hiding within me, this is what it only needed for me to finally get a hold of it. The Inquisitors won’t dare lay a finger on you. We’ll always be together—like we’ve always planned, haven’t we? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“But not like this!” you bellowed, still struggling to suppress the tears welling up in your eyes. “This is NOT how I wanted that! You of all people should know that!”

He continued to justify himself. It was for the best, he says. This could do some much good that you two have been lacking all this time, he presses. A twisted smile curled in his face alarmed you, though you remained stubborn with yourself, you had hoped to convince him back.

Your heart broke and ached so much that you felt your chest suffocating you.

“This isn’t you… This isn’t who you really are!” you said shakily, on the verge of tears. “I don’t know the person I’m looking at anymore!”

Cal’s lips parted, his once-soft expression quickly morphed into a face seething with rage and greed.

“Please, don’t make me do this…” your voice quivered as you hesitated to reach for the hilt on your belt.

“It doesn’t have to be this way!” Cal roared, fighting to get you to his side—not the other way around.

“You’re right, it doesn’t,”

You didn’t even realize that your hand was moving on its own, your fingers clamped around the elegant cylinder and gave a quick tug.

“And that is why I will do what I must.”

One lightsaber being ignited was followed by another.

Your eyes trailed blankly to the beam of light, a second beam was ignited, appearing out of the other end of his hilt.

There was no other way to settle this. Both of you positioned yourselves in stances. As quick as the blink of an eye, both of you lunged at each other until your lightsabers hissed and sparked as they collided. Cal shifted all his weight on his deflect in an attempt to stagger you, but you withdrew and restarted your stance.

He’s gotten more aggressive. You analyzed as the two of you circled one another, you wagered that it was a new lightsaber form he’s picked up but it’s impossible—even for an Inquisitor, let alone a fledgling Inquisitor.

To his advantage, Cal has read your moves—none of which were new—and knew exactly when and where you were open; though, he took the liberty of going easy on you—he remembers that you hated that, it always felt like you were being robbed of a challenge and a lesson altogether, resulting to you throwing a tantrum in the form of reckless moves and attack patterns.

The meeting of your sabers procured a blinding light for every collision, the weapons hummed and snarled violently when one of you deflected the other, you gracefully evaded his lethal dash strikes; in frustration, he turned to you, teeth clenched and bared, and then prepares for another attack.

Is he trying to kill me or apprehend me? You pondered in that second. It doesn’t matter. I have to fight!

It occurred to you that for once in your life, you never imagined that you would be crossing blades with Cal in this kind of predicament. This couldn’t be what the Force willed, could it? It felt like a premature joke, a cruel prank at you—it was bull, you thought. The anger was growing in you; little by little, it manifested in your strikes until you were at par with your boyfriend’s caliber. While it was satisfying, you knew you had to be better—you forced the anger to recede, remembering all of your training in the space of a second, and the words your master and Cere spoke that burned into your mind.

“The Dark Side could make you grow so much stronger than this,” Cal hummed.

“And be a prisoner of it? I don’t think so!”

The floor beneath your feet shook and rumbled, later realizing that you’ve stepped onto the elevator. When the lift had hoisted you a mere three feet up from the ground, Cal wasn’t letting you get away from him—he somersaulted effortlessly and attempted to land a strike on you, much to his chagrin, you deflected it again.

“Good block,”

“Thanks, I take after you!”

The duel dragged on as the elevator brought you to the upper levels of the fortress. You elbowed Cal in the stomach, hoping that the few seconds of his staggering would buy you some time; you ran off of the elevator and found yourself in what you assumed to be a control center, you used the Force to seal the doors behind you.

“[y/n], are you still there? We don’t have much time, their command ship has picked up the Mantis in their radar!” Cere crackled through your comlink.

“I’m here! Tell Greez to make the Mantis do a fly-by at the upper level of the fortress, I’ll find my way to you!”

The doors didn’t barricade Cal from you for long. The two of your continued the duel, slashing up the computers and terminals in the process.

“If you knew better, you wouldn’t let this battle drag on!” Cal bantered again.

“If you knew better, this wouldn’t be happening in the first place!” you clapped back.

An Imperial security droid awoke from the sound of your skirmish; unable to identify friend or foe between the two of you, the tall, human-like droid charged at Cal and picked up the boy with great ease. The young fallen Jedi kicked his legs in the air, trying to break free from the droid’s surprisingly strong grip.

The droid somewhat did you a favor and afforded you mere seconds to flee. You ran to the outdoor balcony overlooking the operations of the facility below; there were some pipes that connected this level to a higher one. You looked over your shoulder and saw the droid slam Cal hard into the ground—it was so strong that the impact of his back against the metal floor caused it to quake. It somewhat hurt you more than it hurt Cal.

There was no time to lose. Slowly but steadily, you stepped onto the narrow width of the pipes with both of your arms extended but relaxed.

“Don’t look down,” you chanted to yourself at every step, trying to calm down. “Don’t look back.”

The young redhead made quick work of getting rid of the droid and then returned his attention to you. He ran to the balcony and saw you were halfway across the pipes to the high platform; you’ve already jumped up to the pipe above your head and shimmied through. Instead of following you in the same route, he looked to his side and wall-ran to another, much thicker, pipe.

You saw him at the corner of your eye but you ignored him, concentrating on setting foot onto the platform. Unexpectedly, he directed his focus on the second, upper pipe you were standing on and used the Force to pull it. From the distance, you could hear the throttle of the Mantis.

They’ve come through! You thought with great relief.

The rusty pipe groaned as it loosened from Cal’s Force-pull, you lost your footing in effect but you hugged the beam until you figured it was safe to stand on it again. You watched Cal easily balancing on his pipe and reaching the wide platform first.

“That son of a—!” you growled and bolted through the pipe, making a run for it instead of going gently. Each step you brought on the pipe was a burden, it creaked and slowly you can feel it falling apart under your feet.

You took a leap of faith and made it through the gap. You propped yourself back on your feet and reignited your lightsaber. Cal wasn’t letting this fight end so easily and quickly, and neither were you. Lightsabers intercrossed once again, attempting to overpower the other by the shifting your weights on blocks and strikes, refusing to end up in a stalemate both of you forced each other’s strength against the other—in turn, sparks have begun to spew out of the blades.

Cere was searching for you and Cal in the tower, Greez kept the Mantis hovering by the fortress in a close distance for Cere to find you. The lightsabers were enough of a beacon for her to easily spot you. Leaning close to the windshield, she pointed at the platform here the pipes have led you and Cal to.

“Look, there they are!”

“Hold on, I gotta maneuver the old girl!” Greez strained at the wheel as he makes a sharp turn with the Mantis.

You looked to the Mantis for one second and knew that Greez is preparing to hover the ship close. You turn back to Cal—in a final, hopeful attempt, you pleaded to him.

“Cal… Please, can we go home?”

“I can’t go back anymore,”

The fire in his eyes, stoked and illuminated by the mingling colors of your lightsabers, burned differently. When you discovered that glint in his jade eyes, you looked at him as if he was someone else. A whole, new person.

A stranger.

He can feel your strength ebbing, about to fumble any minute now; but you gathered the remaining power you have in you and pushed him away, stealing his chance of ever landing a strike at you—with this newfound frenzy, you denied him an opening to hit back, not even a single jab. The strikes that he blocked from you were noticeably stronger than before.

You kicked him in the abdomen, enough to make him stagger away a few steps away from you, and your next move is what surprised him the most in the entirety of this duel.

You aim your outstretched hand at him and then a powerful ripple emitted out of your open palm. Out of the blue, Cal was stiff as a board, stuck in a painfully arching posture as he stood with his chest sticking out, causing his back to camber in a wide, convex curve. This was entirely different from his Force-Slow. He’s ultimately stuck in place. Not a single muscle was allowed to twitch. A single jerk of a finger felt like he’d sprain it if he tried.

You yourself were surprised at what you had done. You gawked at your hands at the discovery of this once-dormant ability.

Behind your back, you could hear Cere calling your name.

“[Y/N], COME ON!”

From the distance, ion cannons from the TIE Fighters whistled as they fired at the Mantis and tremendously missed by a hair.

Seeing that it’s hopeless to convince Cal, you directed your concentration on his lightsaber and pulled it away from his hand; then you turned tail and booked it towards the Mantis hovering by the railings. You closed the gap between the platform and the ship. You almost made it as you landed on your stomach; Cere cautiously approached you and grabbed you by the arm as she helped you pull yourself up. You held onto the bar of the entry ramp and looked back: Cal remained standing there, still stuck in the influence of your Force-Halt. His face was crumpled with great anger as he watched the Mantis prepare for takeoff—a part of you understood if a fraction of that anger was for you.

This is the last time your eyes meet.

You retreated into the ship and threw yourself on the co-pilot seat and started typing out coordinates. Meanwhile, the crew was staring at a frozen Cal on the platform through the windshield. They—especially Cere—couldn’t believe what they're seeing. A thought was bothering her the whole time as well, and much like you, the sight of Cal is what confirmed her theory.

“H-Hey, wai—what are you doing?!? What about Cal!?” Greez yapped in confusion.

“GREEZ, JUST GO!”

Startled, he pressed buttons on the dashboard with all of his four arms in the speed of lightning before cranking the lever and the Mantis fled out of the planet. Greez told the entire crew to hold on as he dodged all of the cannons that the TIE Fighters blasted at the Mantis—you felt all of your organs spin out of their place as the ship performed a 360 and then jump into lightspeed. Your knees were already weak from the altitude and the duel, but it felt like your caps have dissolved and turned into broth with Greez’s daredevil stunts with the Mantis.

While the ship sped through the tunnel of blue light, you finally afforded to catch your breath. You almost forgot that you had Cal’s lightsaber in your clutches. Just by holding it, you could feel the emotions that he has imprinted on it—fear, desperation, and even hate. These were emotions that you knew would be the last thing to stay in Cal’s mind.

Though, you figured that the young redhead that you tried so hard to lure out of that wrath-filled husk of a man could be just that—a shell, an image. You held the hilt close to your heart as you leaned back slumping against the co-pilot seat.

Greez and Cere exchanged glances, torn between give some comforting words or letting you be in your silence; but Cere sensed that the latter would be the best thing to do for you.

“[y/n], why don’t you… lie down in your room for a while?” Cere cooed in a motherly tone.

You swiveled your chair to face her, she shoots a gentle look at you, slightly motioning her head at the direction of the quarters. Without a word, you obliged.

The room has never felt so empty. It’s like stepping into it for the first time and not knowing what to do, expect, and say. You placed Cal’s lightsaber on the workbench along with yours. You approached the narrow bed and found his scrapper’s poncho sitting there. Unconsciously, you take it and let your fingers run across the matted fabric, giving off the musk of combined rainwater and gear oil.

BD-1 hopped off of your shoulder as you sat down, you continued to feel the cloth and let it squish through the spaces between your fingers.

“Boo-woop?”

“I’m okay, BD…” you mumbled.

“Boooo…” he lowed sadly.

“Yeah, I miss him too…”

You curled up into a ball lying down on your side, with Cal’s poncho held close to your heart and BD-1 nestling by your side as you dozed off in a hushed sob.

Meanwhile, Cal had already broken off from your Force-Halt, pounding the metal floor with his fists in agony more than anger as he regained his bearings. The Grand Inquisitor found him in a complete disarray, although he dismissed as a tantrum.

“Oh come now, you could’ve bested her if it weren’t for her ship,”

“I… I thought she’d want to be with me…” he mumbled, confused and disappointed like a child. And then he suddenly snapped. “Now she’s fled with the Holocron!”

“Which I believe you will make quick work of… after your training.”

“Yes, Grand Inquisitor,” Cal hissed, his mood immediately shifting into a calm yet ominous demeanor as he followed the Grand Inquisitor into the fortress.

TO BE CONTINUED…

[msjr0119]

The Unexpected Roommate

Part 3

What happens when your roommate of many years falls in love and moves out unexpectedly? Drake Walker was in this situation, until his friends fiancée suggested that her friend moved in to replace her fiancé. The new roommate is causing tension already. Will they be able to survive living together? What’s the worse that could happen?

Drake x Riley

Leo x Olivia

Warnings: Swearing, tension, smut

A/N- So I spoke to @pedudley, she published a one shot with her characters doing a ‘truth and dare’ scene. We wrote it at the same time, and I reached out as I panicked that people would assume that I’ve used her idea. It’s totally different, just a similar idea and Paige is fine with it- best friends and great minds think alike 😆 This part and part 4 was originally just this part- however tumblr is saying that I’ve exceeded the word count 🤷‍♀️, so you all have two chapters posted back to back- SORRY! 😘

Tags- As always if you want to be removed please do let me know. I won’t be offended.

@pedudley @kacie-0156 @loveellamae @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @texaskitten30 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @yukinagato2012 @cordonianroyalty @rainbowsinthestorm @jared2612 @desireepow-1986 @twinkle-320 @bebepac @drakewalkerisreal

******

As Riley answered his question, she witnessed a smile slowly creep up onto his face- believing that she would never see the day that Drake Walker smiled.

“I still don’t like you though...” She continued. “But....”

“But what?”

“I actually have plans for tonight. Maybe we could do it tomorrow instead?” Seeing disappointment on his face, she instantly felt guilty. She wasn’t saying to never to do this, she had wanted to make amends before he did- however, her friends were more important. More loyal. Fuck. “Or I could cancel? I see Daniel and Maxwell all the time..” Yes, cancel. Please cancel. Spend time with me. God I sound desperate. He thought to himself.

“It’s fine. You live with me. We can have drinks and food whenever.”

“Are you sure? I feel like I’m letting you down after you’ve made an effort. But I don’t like letting my friends down either. I’m sure they won’t mind. I can stay in... with you.”

“Honestly, it’s fine.” Providing a fake smile, his heart sunk- but he would never admit this to her.

“Okay.... I’ll erm. I will be back before my ‘curfew’.”

“You better be.” Smiling at him, she walked away shaking her head. Drake sat on the couch, not knowing what to do. Berating himself, that she had given him the final say for her plans- and he backed out of telling her what his heart truly desired.

****

Riley made her way to the bar, shaking her head she saw the two lovers had already ordered drinks. The amount of drinks that surrounded the table, was a sign of premature liver damage.

“Blossom! You’re here.”

“Hey, guys.” The two men looked at her, she was surprisingly quiet- in a daze. Not her usual self.

“What’s he done now?” Daniel demanded to know as he raised his eyebrows. Maxwell was aware of Drake’s attitude towards Riley- however Daniel had played it down. Daniel knew that Maxwell was a pussycat, but when it came to his friend who was like a sister to him, he wouldn’t hold back if someone hurt her.

“He... well he fucked a blonde all over the place last night. This morning. Whatever that doesn’t matter. He didn’t ask for my permission. Breaking his own rule...” Maxwell’s lips allowed an over exaggerated gasp to escape. “I hope you called him out on it.”

“No. I just put my old teddy bears and Barbie’s on his bed. She soon ran out.” Maxwell jumped up and high fived her, Daniel provided a smirk but her facial expression was still puzzling him.

“So why the long face?”

“He bought me a ‘La Perla’ set.”

“He did what?” The men asked in unison, both wondering what Drake was playing at.

“He bought me a bra and thong set... I mean that shit isn’t cheap. He seemed sincere with his apology but I still don’t trust him. One minute he despises me, then he’s nice. It’s just not normal...”

“Maybe he wants you to dress up for him?” Maxwell licked his lips, then mimicked a blowjob. Providing her friend with her own hand gesture he soon stopped. Afraid of what she may do if he was to carry on.

“Stop right there, Max. This discussion is ending right now!”

“Okay, fine. But you didn’t have to stick two fingers up at me.... or is that what Drake will be doing to you?” Unable to resist winding her up, he escaped to the bathroom quickly- convenient timing.

****

Drake had spent the night, wondering if she was using her prior plans as an excuse to avoid him. He wouldn’t blame her, he had been awful with her. Scrolling through social media, she appeared in the everlasting list of ‘people you may know’. His finger hovered above the ‘add friend’ button- deciding against it, he kept coming back to it. Every time he was tempted to just click it, but he thought that it would give her an excuse to argue with him. Looking at her profile, he shook his head- he clearly wasn’t her only victim for her infamous pranks. Checking out the photos, he needed to stop- he had a sudden erection. That was until he saw a photo of Riley and Olivia- just looking at his arch-enemy turned him off straight away. After a few hours, he made the decision to have a shower- as he had nothing better to do. Usually he wouldn’t mind being ‘home alone’ but for some reason he felt more lonely now than ever. As he entered, the water cascaded down his toned body- placing one hand on the tile, his other hand wrapped around his shaft. Stop thinking about her, she will kill you if she knows you’re wanking over her.

“Shit! I’m soooo sorry. I’m going to puke... I won’t be long. It was the toilet or the floor...” Jumping, he tried to cover himself up- she was in a state. Standing frozen, he didn’t know what to do. Carry on ‘showering’ or get out and hold her hair? The hair debate entered his mind- mainly concerned about her waking up with the sticky yet fowl substance in it. But also to keep her head upright to avoid her face planting the bowl.

“Couldn’t you have just puked in the trash bin? I’m trying to shower!”

“Oh. My. God. It stinks. I’m sorry.” Turning her head towards him, she had a little laugh to herself. “Are you jerking yourself off? Hey! You wasn’t lying was you?”

“No, I am not doing what you think I am! I am covering it up to protect my dignity as best as I can.”

“Whatevs... you are so totally doing it. I’m going to rename my dildo to ‘Drake’.”

“What the fuck are you on about? Can you please hurry up- and collapse in your bed....”

“Ewww I’ve puked in my hair...” knew it. Just fucking knew it. Great. Stripping her clothes off, she stumbled- before entering the shower with him.

“Do you not know about social distancing? Riley! Get to bed.”

“What’s up Drakey? Never shared a shower before.... at least it’ll save on the water bill.” Putting her thumbs up towards him, her drunk mind was now trying to calculate ways in cutting down the bills- whilst she washed her body. Looking down at his erection, she smirked again.

“Yup, definitely calling my dildo ‘Drake’...” Drake knew he was now trapped, believing that if he was civil- and possibly helped her with anything, the quicker he would be able to go to bed.

“What was it called before?” He asked, in his mind he was thinking all sorts of obscure names. Bob? Battery operated boyfriend- because that’s all she’ll ever get if she carries on treating men like shit. Peter as in Peter rabbit? Mr Big?

“Leo....”

“Leo?”

“Yeah, Liv called my dildo ‘Leo’. Apparently it’s the image of him. Personally, I can’t see it. I haven’t used ‘Leo’ since. It put me straight off.” Yeah, don’t blame you. What the actual fuck?

“Right, I’m going to wash your hair for you- then tuck you in bed.”

“Aw you do have a heart.” Trying to make a love heart shape with her fingers, she failed miserably. Drake turned her around, holding on to her with one hand he tried to keep a distance, he didn’t want to poke her- she kept slipping in the shower, making him nearly fall instead as his grip tightened onto her waist. If he was going down, he wasn’t going alone. Getting out of the shower, he held on to her- escorting her out too. Drying her body with the fluffy towel, she was swaying - making it difficult to help assist her. Carrying her to her bed, he laid her onto her side- hoping that she wasn’t going to be sick again. After a few minutes, he kissed Riley on the cheek and left her sleeping alone. Sweet dreams, pisshead.

****

The morning after, Drake decided to check on Riley before leaving for work. He had barely slept, mainly worrying that she was going to choke on her vomit- but then the short shower that they had shared was also lingering throughout his thoughts. Knowing that she was breathing, and was content- he left for work. Not that he wanted to, but he knew the sooner he got to work- the earlier he could finish and return home.

Later on in the day, he returned home- the apartment was as he had left it. Opening her door, she was still asleep. Sitting next to her, he needed to wake her up. Caressing her cheek, she didn’t stir- deciding to gently shake her, she fluttered her eyelashes at him. Still in a daze, she still felt slightly drunk believing that she was hallucinating. Smelling his cologne, and seeing his blurry face- she sighed heavily.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Fuck. He’s here. He’s on my bed.

“Drake! Get out!”

“Why?”

“Because I’m naked...” Pulling the duvet up as far as it could go, she was practically suffocating herself. “Remember you don’t like to see my - how did you describe it? Oh yeah. Flab.” Shaking his head, he was never going to hear the end of his hurtful words.

“Do you remember getting home last night?” Her eyes widened, she dread to think what had happened. The horror that was shown across her face, explained to him that she was clueless about the events after her night out.

“You came home, puked up then jumped in the shower with me. I carried you to your bed. There was no funny business. Anyway, it’s four o’clock- I think you better get up.”

“Four in the morning?”

“No. Afternoon. I’ve been to work and come back. I’ll order food and we can do what we planned if you’re up for it? There’s a match on.”

“Do I look like I watch sport?”

“Oh sorry. You’re probably one of those girls who likes to watch a film where the two main characters fall in love at the end.”

“Guilty.”

“Typical woman. I’ll get you some tissues- don’t want you ruining any make up.”

“It’s fine, Drake. Watch your game. I’ll have a shower then join you soon.”

“What drink do you want? I’ll get it ready for when you get out.”

“I’ve got wine, it’s in the fridge. Thank you, Drake.”

“No worries. Hurry up though.” Fuck why have I said that? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Before she could respond, he needed to think of an excuse for why he said that. “Because you don’t want your food to be cold.” Nodding, he smiled and swiftly left her- allowing her a bit of privacy to get out of bed. Making her way to the bathroom, she wished that she was able to walk in a straight line. Fucking Daniel, again. I need to stop drinking. Leaving the door slightly ajar, Drake couldn’t help himself but have a peek at her. Seeing her hair cascade down her back, he admired her body again as he did when she sabotaged his shower. God, she’s gorgeous. Stop looking at her Drake. Finally coming to his senses, he ordered the food and poured the drinks - waiting anxiously on the couch for Riley, he wanted to tell her the truth about what he thought about her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it.” Hearing her voice in the distance, it was a slight mumble as the noise from the tv was distracting him and was much closer.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear the door because of the game.”

“No worries. Hmm chinese. Good choice, roomie.” Bringing the food over to the table, they ate it together- both stealing glances from each other, both wondering if this was going to last. They spoke about simple things, to keep the conversation flowing with no awkwardness. Favourite food, phobias and fears, favourite vacations- were just some of the topics that they discussed. Riley decided to top up their drinks as they both gulped it in one, possibly needing Dutch courage to talk in a civil manner.

“Jesus, you cant even walk when you stick to the same drink.”

“I’m just a lightweight. You’d think that I’d be used to it working in a bar.”

“You work in a bar?”

“Yeah, with Daniel. He pulls in all the gays, and I flirt with the punters. It’s a real dive bar, so any custom is important.”

“I’ll have to come one day, just purely to annoy you and to distract you.”

“No. You’d just come for the free drinks. Because you know a person that works there.”

“Now you’ve offered free drinks, I’m definitely going to have to come.” Shaking her head, she knew that she would potentially get sacked if she provided Drake with whiskey all night on the house.

“So what do you do?” Sitting down next to him, she passed him the whiskey- waiting for him to elaborate. Intrigued as to what he did for a living. First impressions of him, was that he was a very closed off person- private. Unlike herself, who was an open book.

“I’m a mystery. That’s all you need to know.”

“C’mon Drake... tell me. I’ll ring Olivia and ask if not.”

“No!”

“Why no? Are you a serial killer? Or a drug dealer or something?”

“I just don’t like your friend. The answer is no. Plus, mind your own business.”

“You don’t like many people do you?”

“I hate her.”

“Like me.” Riley said this quietly, as her face faulted. Most people liked her, but Drake just had instant hate- deep down it hurt her slightly.

“Of course I’m going to hate you, you’re my roommate. Liv, she’s like the fucking devil.”

“You just don’t know her properly. Like you don’t know me.”

“I’d like to get to know you. I’m sorry. But you are annoying as fuck.”

“Maybe I am annoying. But so are you. Your teams losing, time for a change.” Reaching over him, she stole the remote and quickly changed the channel. Sex and the city, perfect.

“No! Not a chance! I’m not watching this shit. Put the fucking goddamn match back on.” Shooting off of the sofa, she ran towards her room shoving the remote in her bra- knowing he wouldn’t dare touch her whilst it was there.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Catching up to her, he pulled her back flush to his chest. Turning her around, his eyes never left hers.

“You’re a bit too close for comfort.” She could practically feel her heart attempting to leap out of her chest.

“Give me the remote, and I’ll let go of your waist.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll be holding on to you all night...”

“I pretty much doubt that, Drake.”

“You want to bet?” Moving his lips closer to her neck, his breath made her heart skip a beat- it also sent shivers down her spine. “Can you resist my lips, Riley?”

“Of course I can.” Whimpering, she wasn’t sure what to think. Deep down, she had always thought that he was handsome- but he was her roommate. Someone who hated her the previous day. Someone who was fucking a stranger in their shared accommodation. Kissing her neck gently, her body froze- his hands roamed her body, getting closer to her chest. Closing her eyes, she gulped at his soft touches.

“Your skin is so soft.... Riley.... I....” Swiftly removing the remote from her bra, he smirked- feeling smug with himself. “I win! Don’t fuck with me...no one turns the matches off!”

“You bastard!”

“Aw what’s up darling? Did you think that I was kissing you because I wanted to?” I actually really wanted more.

“I don’t know what to think with pricks like you! I knew tonight was too good to be true... why can’t you just be a normal human being?”

“Why can’t you ask for permission to turn the tv over?”

“It’s not the end of the fucking world!” Hearing a knock at the door, their bickering stopped almost immediately.

“Hey guys!”

“Leo?” They both shouted in unison, wondering why he was here. As soon as Olivia joined him, she eyed the two of them in front of her- attempting to study their body language.

“Woah, you two are close...” Leo stated as he nudged Olivia.

“Thought we’d drop by to see how you are both doing. Is there a problem? Have we come at a bad time?”

“I’m on top of the world, Liv. Living with a fucking prick like him is all I ever wanted in life. You have perfect timing! I’m so glad some normal human beings are here to socialise with me.” Drake gulped, now realising that he had been slightly petty.

“Living with an annoying bitch is all I ever wanted! So thanks for getting engaged guys. Beer, Leo?”

[feminist-propaganda]

Single Mothers Will Probably Cry During Every Episode Of Queen’s Gambit - Episode 3

In the first two episodes of Queen’s Gambit, Beth first learns to look for a field that she can become an expert in and later understands the powers of dissociation. What Beth doesn’t share with us in these episodes, probably because she isn’t connecting to that part of herself, is what her life was like before the car crash.

The only memory we know about, which precedes the orphanage era, is the traumatic memory of the car crash, and the couple of seconds leading up to it. Because we don’t see anything prior to the car crash; our opinion of Alice (Beth’s mother)  is based off of her actions that day. We know she voluntarily crashed the car (she admits this when she tells Beth to “Close her eyes”). We don’t really know what Beth’s opinion of her mother is. 

Lesson 3: Your Biggest Enemy Is Yourself

In Episode 3 however, we are invited into an earlier childhood memory of Beth. She sits with her mother, by the lake. She reaches out to touch her mother’s hand. Her mother carresses her cheek. Her mother gets up, takes off her clothes and jumps into the lake. Beth’s face looks worried as she watches her mother disapear into the water. Beth cries out for her. Her mother finally emerges on the deck, far way, and waves. Then, Alice swims back to the shore and hugs Beth. The young girl looks happy. This seems to be a strange memory. It starts with a peaceful moment by the lake, then her mother does something that scares Beth, then it ends well and we are relieved that Beth feels relieved.

The episode is called “Doubled Pawns”, which refers to a position in Chess when two pawns are placed behind one other on the same file (column). The position is a weakness because the pawns cannot defend each other, and therefore cannot attack.

The episode starts in Cincinatti where Beth and Alma arrive to play a tournament. They enter a nice hotel room, in a luxurious venue. The room has  twin beds. Alma sits on her bed and says in a contained voice “I asked for a pleasant room and I believe they gave me one”. Beth then jumps on her bed and giggles.

All through the episode we see references to a doubled self, an other that is in fact a version of us. 

Let’s analyse this scene. We see that Alma adopts this calm, collected voice when really there is a part of her that wants to jump on the bed. Beth is the opposite: she can’t wait to jump on the bed, but she needs some sort of permission, a green light from Alma before she can do it. They both feel pleased to be a in a pleasant room, but like the two sides of a same coin, they express it differently. And like two entangled photons, their projections are related. If one is contained, the other is extroverted.

This duality, appears many more times during the episode. 

Indeed, later in the hotel lobby of the Las Vegas venue, Beth encounters Townes, a chess player she met a the State championship in Lexington. They both seemed extremely pleased to meet again. Townes makes a comment about how Beth has grown up. He informs her he is covering the event for a newspaper. Then invites her to his hotel room to take pictures of her. Beth seems very comfortable with him. She sits next to the bed and looks at the Board. Townes takes pictures. Right when he is about to get close to her, maybe even intimate, a man barges into the hotel room.

This man has some tight swimming pants on, an open shirt, a shaved chest. We understand, that this man is Townes’s lover. That they share this hotel room. That they came together to this place. The mood is a bit ruined. Beth is upset, she has feeling for Townes and he isn’t available.

This man is Towne’s “evil twin”, an other him, a “doubled pawn”. Which he forgets to watch out for, and which has become a weakness for him, rather than a position of strength. Townes doesn’t openly propose a three way to Beth, or a menage a trois. That would’ve been an aggressive, probably succesful approach. Instead he invites her in, and does not mention his other lover. The other lover appears at the worst moment and weakens Townes’s position rather than strengthens it.

Finally, in this episode Beth meets her match, Benny. He is a charismatic Chess Player. What is special about him is the same thing that makes Beth special. He does not look like a typical Chess Player. By this I mean that he doesn’t look socially awkward, he isn’t introverted, he doesn’t wear glasses. He is the U.S. champion. She first meets him in Cincinatti where he tells her it isn’t interesting for him to play Opens, “It can only hurt him”. 

His character seems to reveal to Beth that there is another world beyond these American tournaments. He is an international player, he gets invited to Europe. But also, he is her match in other ways. He is passionate about Chess, yes. But he talks about it in a fascinating manner. His style is very unique. He wears all black leather outfits and a black cowboy hat. He carries a knife strapped around his leg. He stands out, just like Beth stands out in the Chess World.

Beth has to play Benny to win the US Championship in Las Vegas. She loses.

After the match, we listen to Beth tell her version to Alma. Even though Alma understands practically nothing of the game, she listens attentively and asks questions. She is there for Beth. And at the end of the episode, Beth takes her hand in the car.

Beth tells Alma that what Benny did was “Something she did to others”. What she means by this is that he played her, made her believe that her strategy was working, that he wasn’t seeing her coming, when in fact he had it all mapped out. And he brutally defeated her.

When you are a single mother, you are terrified of dying. Not so much because you’re living an extremely fulfilling life that you don’t want to let go of. Not because you are afraid of the abyss. You are afraid of dying because you are afraid of what will happen to your children if you die.

To manage this risk, single mothers could meet with lawyers and make plans for what would happen to them if they were to die. But we know that single mothers are often times isolated and cast away by their families. So maybe imagining a plan is alreayd a problem for them.

Because single motherhood is felt to be a negative situation, most single mothers isolate themselves. They are riddled with shame and prefer to keep to themselves to not look at the disapointment or pity in the eyes of their friends and families.

They also might have conflicts with their families or their children’s father’s families which may prevent establishing a plan in the event of their death.

Finally, single mothers are most often times over worked. They often work full time to support their families, and when they are not working out of the house, they are doing housework in the home which we all know is an unending, tedious, monotonous, repetitive, mind numbing task.

This leaves little space for planning and strategizing. And in the event of an accident, some of these mothers might not have had time to make a plan.

If they did some research, like I just did, they might see that they really ought to make a solid plan for the aftermath of their deaths.

Indeed, a Swedish study from 2000 found that:

"We saw that [single] mothers demonstrated a nearly 70% higher risk of premature death than coupled mothers," study author Måns Rosén, PhD, tells WebMD.

The article continues:

“According to the findings, which were published in the journal TheLancet, the single mothers had twice the risk of suicide of mothers with partners, three times the risk of violent death, and two-and-one-half times the risk of alcohol-related death.”

The anxiety that Beth felt at the lake is what all children of single mothers feel when they watch their mothers engage in risky behavior. In Beth’s young mind, swimming in the lake is risky behavior, perhaps because she does not know how to swim. Maybe this particular lake is dangerous, I am not sure. But the emotion she feels is real regardless.

She knows that she is just a child, that she cannot swim. What will she do if her mother drowns? Watch her? Who will she call for help? There doesn’t seem to be anyone around them. 

The name of the episode is Doubled Pawns, and this matters to my argument. Indeed, the Doubled Pawn position as I mentionned above is a weakness because the pawns are unable to protect themselves.

They are the same piece on the chess board, and they can move in the same way. They have the same power to attack, to defend and the same weaknesses. To be efficient they need to be on different fields, which are the columns on the Chess Board.

The same goes for single mothers. They need to watch out for danger; but the nature of the danger is the same essence as what they’re trying to protect themselves from. In other words, their biggest enemy is themselves.

Kanye West, who has probably been the most influential rapper and producer of the 2010s, was raised by a single mother, a woman named Donda, mostly in the suburbs of Chicago. It is no secret that Donda’s death in 2007 profoundly changed Kanye as well as his music. He wrote the album 808s and Heartbreak in the aftermath of her death. Donda died because of a plastic surgery procedure that didn’t go well. 

Adams gave Donda West liposuction, a tummy tuck and a breast reduction in November 2007, but she died the following day, after reporting pain and tightness in her chest. A coroner found “no evidence of a surgical or anaesthetic misadventure,” and said “the final manner of death could not be determined. Multiple post-operative factors could have played a role in the death. The exact contribution of each factor could not be determined.”

Donda’s law, which was passed in 2009, “targets the aggressive marketing of services that make the risks “seem almost nonexistent,””.

On the track “Amazing” from 808s & Heartbreak, Kanye sings “I’m the only thing I’m afraid of”, which seems to summarize the learnings of Episode 3.

The article above explains to us that the biggest threat to single mothers is suicide, violent death and alcohol related deaths.

As Alice swims in the lake, she is indeed adopting reckless behavior. She forgets she is a single mother, and there is no one around to help her if she drowns. Yes, she comes out alive, and hugs Beth. But in case of an accident; she could’ve died.

Benny is Beth’s doubled pawn, her evil twin, so to speak. He beats her at her own game. And in this Episode, Beth learns from her mother that she needs to watch out for herself, from herself.

[snapchattingnct]

One of Many Reasons Why

Mark Lee x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: cursing, minor religion mentioned

Summary: There were many reasons to love Mark Lee…

Notes: Happiest of birthdays to our baby lion, Mark Lee. I had a totally different piece written for his birthday but I completely scrapped it and wrote this instead. And I like it so much better. -  K 🌱

1. Circle Frames

Mark usually wore contacts most of the time, which was disappointing since he looked so stinking cute in those precious circle frames of his. But whenever he got too lazy or forgot to buy more contacts, he would end up wearing his glasses instead. And those were moments that you lived for. You couldn’t help but coo at how cute he looked each time that he wore them, taking a billion pictures of him as you did so. Mark would simply push away your phone, becoming incredibly flustered, telling you, “Ugh, babe stop….”

2. Messy Love Notes

Mark had a habit of writing you little love notes every chance he got. Most of the time, his love notes were never written on a clean sheet of paper. They were usually short blurbs scribbled messily on whatever he could get his hands on; a Starbucks napkin, on the back of his music theory quiz, a crumpled up post-it note. But that didn’t matter, you loved it regardless.

Unfolding the folded love note Mark had slipped to you in passing earlier, you couldn’t help but smile as you read the messily written note on the corner of a flashcard. ‘I love you to the moon and back.’

3. Secret Handshakes

For someone who was extremely clumsy and sometimes a little uncoordinated, Mark loved making secret handshakes for all of his friends. And you weren’t an exception. Since the day that you’ve met each other, way before the two of you became a couple, you and Mark have been adding a new move to your guys’ handshake. Each time that you two saw each other, it still amazes you how either one of you were able to memorize all the moves at this point.

4. Baby Giggles

No matter how much, Mark loves to deny it. Mark Lee was nothing but a big baby. He is the epitome of a baby. Especially when he giggles and laughs at things that he finds amusing. Even though he’s older, whenever that cute giggle of his slips passed his lips, you can’t help but feel a sense of overprotectiveness overcome you. Mark Lee was to be protective at all cost because he’s simply precious like that.

5. Goofball

Sometimes it was so hard to take Mark seriously because at the end of the day, he was nothing but a goofball. He would laugh at the simplest things, the lamest jokes, and the cheesiest puns. The best part was that even when it wasn’t funny, he would still laugh. And he just had the most contagious laugh in the whole world. So you couldn’t help but laugh along with him until your stomach hurt.

6. Warm Cuddles

Maybe you were biased but Mark gave the best hugs and was the best cuddle buddy in the world. No one could compare. The best kind are the ones that he gave on those calm, Sunday mornings. Eyes barely open and mind barely awake, Mark would pull you closer, sharing his warmth with you. Then with a lazy hand, he would thread his fingers through your hair. Mumbling softly into your hair, he would say, “Let’s just stay in bed all day babe…”

7. Burnt Eggs

It was a universally acknowledged fact that Mark Lee was a terrible cook. He wasn’t even able to boil water without it evaporating completely. He was honestly that bad of a cook. So the one morning that he decided that it would be a brilliant idea to wake up early and make you an omelette for breakfast, he almost burned down half the building. From then on, Mark was completely banned from the kitchen stove. These days, he still wakes up early and prepares breakfast for you though. Except he just orders it from your favorite bakery down the street, which was a much better option for everyone.

8. Watermelon Boy

There were two things in the world that Mark Lee loved with his entire heart. Of course, one of those things was you. But the love he had for watermelon was equally as strong. Honestly speaking, had he not met you in this lifetime, you were sure that he would have ended up marrying a watermelon.

He was all yours for three seasons out of four. When summer hit though, that was a completely different story because with summer comes the watermelons. Surprisingly with how much he buys and brings home everyday, you weren’t sick of eating all that watermelon. It might have been the cute, happy smile that he has on his face each time he ate them that made it worth it.

9. What the Flute?

Mark Lee was talented at a lot of things; rapping, composing, singing, dancing, and the list simply goes on and on. But the one thing that he wasn’t good at playing the flute. The day that you had found the instrument case of his flute back from primary school was the day that you realized that there were some things that Mark couldn’t do. You had teased him, calling him a cute band geek as you pulled the case out from the back of his closet. Flipping through the old music scores, you asked him if he could still play it.

Shrugging his shoulders, he said, “Maybe? I’m not sure. It’s been a while.”

And it has been a while because the moment that he held the flute up to his lips and tried to play it, nothing but squeaks came out. This left you rolling on the floor laughing as you clutched your stomach in pain. The laughing didn’t stop as Mark continued to give his best effort in playing the flute.

Let’s just say that his primary school days of playing in a marching band were long over.

10. Team Android

No matter how many times you had urged him to upgrade his phone to an iPhone, Mark continued to stay loyal to that android of his. You didn’t have a problem with him having an android. No, not at all. You just wanted to be able to use all the cute talking emojis on iMessage.

11. Fully Capable

It was pretty rare for Mark to ever feel nervous about his performances and presentations. Mark was one of the top students in their music department. He was the department’s golden child. He could literally do anything that he would set his mind to. You had just wished that he knew that he was good enough and he didn’t have anything to fear.

One night, during finals, Mark was on the verge of a mental breakdown as he tried to finish the composition for his music theory class. As he angrily tossed aside his notebook and guitar, you came up to him and immediately pulled him into your arms. With a soothing hand running through his hair, you said, “Hey, it’s okay babe.”

Mumbling incoherently into the nape of your neck, “No, it’s not… I can’t even rearrange this stupid simple song. How am I supposed to do anything in life?”

“You’re just thinking too hard about it. Relax, babe.”

“How the hell am I supposed to relax when I have nothing finished and this is due in like five hours?” He cried out, clearly frustrated.

Pulling away from the embrace, you cupped his face in between the palm of your hands, forcing him to look at you directly in the eye. “Hey. Seriously. Quit being so negative right now. This isn’t like you. Because the Mark Lee I know is a music genius and he’s absolutely fully capable of anything and everything.”

12. Butterfly Kisses

Kisses from Mark were also the best and you might be a little biased again, but it’s the truth. Sometimes Mark gets a little too shy to kiss you outright on the lips, so he showers you with butterfly kisses instead. First, he’ll bring your hand to his lips and kiss the back of it. Then he’ll pull you in close and place a fleeting kiss on your temple. Then your cheeks, then your nose, and lastly your lips.

13. Multilingual King

Even after knowing Mark for so many years, it still amazes you how many languages the boy knows and can pick up on so quick. He was like your own personal translator when you guys when on trips to foreign countries. But it was also funny how he would stumble over his words sometimes when he’s trying to switch between languages. When that happens, he just puts his hands out in a pausing motion, shouting, “Okay. Wait, wait. I need to switch my brain over.”

14. Corny Jokes

The jokes that he tells you and the ones that he finds funny are ones that are rivaling of your dad’s. His sense of humor was really one of a father in their mid-thirties.

As the two of you sit there side by side, enjoying a bowl of cold watermelon, he begins to laugh obnoxiously before he can even say the joke. Already prepared for the worst joke in the world, you sit there, staring straight back at him with an unamused look.

After he’s finished with his laughing fit, he smiles and feeds you a piece of watermelon, saying, “Babe, you’re one in a melon.”

15. Spiderman Mark Lee

For Halloween, Mark’s friends decided to throw a Marvel themed party and it was the best idea that they could ever come up with. Why? Because Mark Lee decided to go to the party as Spiderman. And you may or may not have a crush on Peter Parker but Mark didn’t need to know that.

But when he got tired of all the drinking games that his friends were playing, he scouted you out amongst the crowd. And when he saw that you were sitting on the swing set that Jaemin’s family had in the backyard, he came up with the most brilliant plan.

Sneaking up behind you as quiet as he could, Mark climbed on top of the jungle gym above the swings. Then nearly scaring the living daylights out of you, he swung downwards, straight in front of your face, whispering, “Hey.”

“Oh my gosh! Mark Lee!” You screamed. Hand clutching your racing heart, you breathed out heavily through your nose. “You can’t go around and do things like this and not expect me to die from a premature heart attack!”

“Sorry,” he laughed. Then pulling the ends of his mask up, he whispered softly, “Here, take a kiss as my apology.”

And you might have just died when he said that because that was such a classic Spiderman move.

16. Billionaire

The day the ‘Billionaire’ by Bruno Mars had came on the radio as the two of you were studying, it instantly became your guys’ song. It was on repeat for the longest of time, to the point to where you both knew the rap and vocal parts equally by heart. Each time that it came on, you didn’t have to think for a second before you’re belting out the chorus together, whether it was out in public or in the comfort of your own apartment. You didn’t care because it was your song.

17. Driver’s License

For someone his age, you would think that he would have a driver’s license by now. But nope, that wouldn’t be Mark Lee would it?

One day as you’re picking him up from his shift at the music store down the street from his apartment complex you couldn’t help but ask, “Don’t you think you should get your driver’s license? I mean you’re almost twenty one...”

Nodding, Mark said in reply, “Yeah, I probably should…”

And that he did.

Because the next day, before the sun was even up, he came knocking on your apartment’s door. Barely awake, you had answered the door with annoyance, yanking it open, “Babe. It’s not even eight. What do you want?”

“Well, good morning to you too, princess.” Mark chuckled.

After closing the door, he follows you back to your bedroom, where you flopped rather ungracefully back onto your bed. Crawling into the empty space beside you, he tucked a strand behind your ear, smiling as he stares back at you intently. “Guess what I did this morning?”

Leaning into his touch, you close your eyes, relishing in the warmth that he was giving off. With a soft hum, you asked half-asleep, “What did you do?”

“I got my driver’s license.”

Eyes shooting wide open and mouth completely agape, you exclaimed, “You what?!”

Scrambling to sit up, you slapped him on the shoulder, making him laugh even harder. “Wait, hold up.” You said as you held your hands up, trying to wrap your mind around what Mark has just told you. Sputtering, “You… actually went and got a driver’s license? You know I was just joking right?”

“Yeah, but I figured that it was time to get one anyways.” He smiled. “Plus it was a piece of cake.”

“Only you, Mark Lee. Only you.”

“Yes, that would be me. I am Mark Lee.”

“Oh shush,” you couldn’t help but laugh. Then extending your hand out to him, you gave him a sweet smile. “Alright, the moment of truth. Let me see that driver’s license photo.”

The smile on his lips widen even more as he reached into his back pocket and retrieved his wallet. Then placing his freshly new driver’s license into the palm of your awaiting hand, he leaned back satisfied.

And course he would be satisfied. Mark looked devilishly handsome on his license. But you couldn’t help but tease him about it as you pinched his cheeks, saying, “Aww look at our Markie Poo being all cool and handsome.”

Pushing your hands away from his face, Mark snatched his license back and tucked it away into his wallet. Then opening his arms, he asked, “Alright, are we going to cuddle or are you going to continue making fun of me?”

“Who says that I can’t do both?” You told him teasingly as you tucked yourself into his waiting arms, snuggling up against his warm body.

18. Baby Lion

“Baby Lion”, that was one of the many nicknames that you had for Mark. You weren’t quite sure where the nickname had come from. But the day that you saw Mark wake up from his nap, stretching and yawning like a cute baby cub with his hair a complete disarray, it clicked.

19. Religious Boy

Mark Lee was a wholesome, kind-hearted, and precious boy. He would never fail to remind you how he is ever so thankful that God had allowed someone like you to enter into his life; to have someone to love and support through thick and thin. He told you once that he prays for your health and happiness every night before he sleeps and you couldn’t help but feel that there really wasn’t another Mark Lee in this world.

20. Black Haired Mark

You honestly didn’t think that Mark could get any handsomer than he already was until the day he came back from the barber shop and had his hair dyed black. Without warning, he had sneaked up behind and wrapped his arms around you as the two of you stood in the kitchen. You were too busy reviewing your study notes and drinking your morning coffee to notice his new hair. But when you did, you were nothing but a sputtering mess and spilling coffee all over the counter.

Mouth agape, you exclaimed, “Oh. My. Gosh. Your hair…”

Nodding his head, he ruffled his hair shyly. “Yeah. I figured it was time for a change. Spice it up a little bit from the classic brown.”

The words had left your mouth before you could stop it, “Yeah, spice it up alright, because you look hot.”

21. Best Friend

Before the two of you even became a couple, you were each other’s best friend. Mark was the best friend that you could only dream of having. He laughed with you at the stupid things you did and tries to make you feel better about yourself. Even when you don’t want to hear it, Mark gives you the most honest advice and makes sure to keep you in check. He’s always there for you, even when he’s thousands of miles away for vacations with his family or concerts for the music department. He makes sure that he is the first to say ‘good morning’ and ‘goodnight’ to you. And last but not least, Mark loves you at your best and he still loves you even at your worst.

[slingspeacea]

☆ // SUBJECT: THE EARP HOMESTEAD. LOCATION: PURGATORY, COLORADO

a collection of research exploring the idea, that if not for wynonna earp’s low budget and physical filming location, purgatory and its key landmarks should have been based in the united states,            around the colorado river specifically.  !important: earp roleplayers are more than welcome to also adopt this divergence if they agree with it, and may 100% feel free to REBLOG this post. please remember when interacting with my character, in all verses, that they are from purgatory, colorado, and not from canada. if after reading this, you feel bothered, please let me know and we can absolutely follow writers’ show canon in our threads!!

☆  // WARNING!!

this divergence is strongly opinionated. the writers of the show have confirmed the plot setting for the television series wynonna earp, is in fact located in alberta, canada. i am 100% aware that alberta is absolute show canon. however, as a roleplayer, creative writer, and western fanatic, i can neither ignore, nor let wyatt earp and doc holliday’s history get completely washed away for the sake of filming convenience. make no mistake. i love the show, the storyline, and i love the characters immensely;  but because of both the comic book series, and nonfictional history, their story’s location does not make any sense to me or add up at all. 

☆  // PART I. WYATT’S JOURNEY.

first, let’s begin with wyatt earp’s original routes and a few historical events. i’ve taken the time, and mapped wyatt and doc holliday’s trail out below in order. they were obviously riding on horseback and taking ferries or trains, so they wouldn’t have been using main roads or highways ( although busy trails later became paved highways and roads throughout america ). at only one point does wyatt travel through canada and it is during his two, long journeys to alaska. as you can see below, he really goes nowhere near alberta or calgary on his way to his next stop, seattle, washington. 

it would make way more sense for purgatory to be located somewhere in the united states, in one of the towns wyatt earp lived or stayed in for a prolonged period of time. not to mention the old west  is well... united states history, and all notable events regarding the old west happened in the states. the original 1993 wynonna earp comics even pay homage to places like tombstone ( and can i mention when the t.v series says they’re loosely based on the comics, they are hardly anything like them? like barely even remotely? ). it mentions white trash and trailer parks, hill billys, pabst blue ribbon, you name every southern stereotype, and they cover it. no surprise, it is based in america.

“ two u.s. marshals and a sheriff lie dead in san diablo, new mexico. when marshal wynonna earp hits the trail to bring the killers to justice, she uncovers connections to a devastating new drug...and a pack of redneck vampires! modern firepower and frontier justice --that's wynonna. “          wynonna earp, comic issue #1, summary.

but that’s totally besides the point, and another post probably worth making entirely. let’s get back to the real wyatt earp and docs holliday’s actual history. below are some maps, and i’ve linked bigger versions so they’re easier for y’all to see.

larger map images for reference:     a,   b,   c.

exhibit one: map a.  ↳ this displays his route from dodge city in 1875, up until his last ride to los angeles where he would also die in 1923. this map is all prior to docs death specifically, which is extremely important. why? because doc had obvious connections to both constance clootie and bulshar. this has become even even more so evident in season 3. wyatt earp did not travel through canada until after docs actual death. this alone raises a red flag as someone who thinks placing purgatory in canada was an easy cop-out by show writers, and as someone who often ponders plot holes in the show’s storyline. 

another point i have to to stress, is that a majority of wyatt earp’s time with doc holliday throughout life was spent in the southwestern united states. their stomping grounds are where a majority of the route lines cross on the map, and they traveled between each of those cities, owning saloons, gambling, hunting outlaws, etc.. countless times. i’ll have more to add about this later under section iii, which heavily regards the revenants.

exhibit two: map b. ↳ map b is probably the most important of all three. it depicts what his ride would have looked like from wrangell, ak to nome, and then from wrangell, ak to seattle, wa. google maps actually wouldn’t let me map the whole thing through from idaho and washington to alaska, because fun fact, you have to fly and take ferries to get around from the usa to those alaskan towns. phew, can you imagine wyatt’s adventure to alaska on horseback and water?? his wife actually tried to stop him from making the journey because she was pregnant at the time, but of course, he saw an opportunity for wealth and didn’t listen.

alberta is a far stretch out of the way. he would have had to go over or around the canadian rockies, and since he was traveling to and from alaska from either washington state and/or idaho with a clear destination in mind, it would make no logical sense whatsoever. the red triangle, accurately labeled show’s location wtf??  is where the show’s canon ghost river triangle is located. i know what you’re probably thinking, they never say it straight up in the series,             but writer’s confirmation aside, upon researching there is one particular episode which gave us show purgatory’s exact location right away. here is a picture of waverly in s01e03, with a map of purgatory. . . and here is another .... and now here is an actual, real map which indisputably matches waverly’s layout. note: those are not my screencaps, you can find the original post i got them from here !!

exhibit three: map c. ↳ vildal, california is where he built his home in 1911.  the earps bought a small cottage in vidal, the only home they ever owned. beginning in 1911 and until Wyatt's health began to fail in 1928, Wyatt and sadie earp summered in Los Angeles and spent the rest of the year in the desert working their claims. The "happy days" mine was located in the whipple mountains a few miles north of vidal.  wyatt had some modest success with the happy days gold mine, and they lived on the slim proceeds of income from that and oil wells.  ( source:  wikipedia. )

so, my question is likely the biggest plot hole in the whole freaking television series. how the heck did wyatt’s family homestead end up all the way near calgary, alberta, canada?? the show writers ignore this entirely and uses an insane amount of liberties. wyatt never had any children to begin with, but if one wants to paint the picture of family, love, loyalty, and closeness as they do on the show, i would think that the earps would have remained somewhere closer to wyatt’s grave. at the very least in the same country.

the other major thing to take into consideration, is that by the time map b and map c were traveled, real doc holliday was also dead and no longer amongst the living. i bet your thinking,  ❝   okay so maybe vidal, california would have been an alright place for the show to take place, since that was wyatt’s actual only home.  ❞  and i totally agree, but the more i thought about making this wynonna’s hometown and ground zero for the homestead, the harder i could picture the gang there. problem is, the landscape is nothing but desert. it’s hot and arrid. in vidal there are there are no prairie winds, or great plains, or chinook rocky mountain sunsets. on the show we see mountains, rivers, forests, and more importantly, large amounts of snow. 

this leads the divergence trail back to none other than the myth, the man, and the legend, doc holliday. let’s dive a little more into his relationship with wyatt in the next section.

☆  // PART II. DOC AND WYATT.

how wyatt and doc met in history & the show. ↳ earp had run two cowboys out of wichita earlier in 1878. during the summer, the two cowboys—accompanied by another two dozen men—rode into dodge and shot up the town while galloping down front street. they entered the long branch saloon, vandalized the room, and harassed the customers. hearing the commotion, earp burst through the front door, and before he could react, a large number of cowboys were pointing their guns at him. 

in another version, there were only three to five cowboys. in both stories, holliday was playing cards in the back of the room and upon seeing the commotion, drew his weapon and put his pistol at morrison's head, forcing him and his men to disarm, rescuing earp from a bad situation. no account of any such confrontation was reported by any of the dodge city newspapers at the time. whatever actually happened, earp credited holliday with saving his life that day, and the two men became friends.

how wyatt and doc actually parted ways in history. ↳  according to a letter written by former new mexico territory governor miguel otero, wyatt and holliday were eating at fat charlie's the retreat restaurant in albuquerque, "when holliday said something about earp becoming 'a damn jew-boy.' earp became angry and left…." holliday and dan tipton arrived in pueblo, colorado in late april 1882. ( source: wikipedia. )

doc’s death in real history. ↳ in 1887, prematurely gray and badly ailing, holliday made his way to the hotel glenwood, near the hot springs of glenwood springs, colorado. he hoped to take advantage of the reputed curative power of the waters, but the sulfurous fumes from the spring may have done his lungs more harm than good. as he lay dying, holliday is reported to have asked the nurse attending him for a shot of whiskey. when she told him no, he looked at his bootless feet, amused. the nurses said that his last words were, "this is funny.”  holliday died at 10am on november 8, 1887. he was 36.

wyatt visited sick doc before he died. ↳   wyatt heard of doc’s death shortly after he had died. he was close by in aspen, colorado at the time, and it’s thought that he may have visited doc before his death. josephine  earp told a story about sitting beside doc’s deathbed, but it’s thought that she may have confused this with another occasion ( because of old age ). she additionally gave an account of doc and wyatt’s last meeting in the lobby of a denver hotel. both men were quite upset and josie said that wyatt cried afterwards. there’s also a story that doc’s gun was also sent to wyatt although again not a lot of evidence to prove whether or not it’s true.

wynonna earp flashbacks. ↳   in s01e03, wyatt visited his bedside, where doc is very ill and lying down in a tent. it’s implied doc was resting, wyatt packed up his things for him, and dispite his sickness, earp keeps urging him to ride with him to purgatory. doc rejects knowing he can’t and says goodbye. this is likely right before he seeks out constance clootie for immortality, in whatever town they were in. there is no viable way his transformation could have happened in purgatory, because the church in wynonna’s vision quest later on was somewhere on the outskirts of town.

on the series, doc holliday had already come across constance clootie, and gained his immortality before the best friends had their argument and wyatt disowned him for becoming something of the devil’s work. wyatt also finally admits to his family being cursed. doc was also as equally heartbroken about wyatt’s opinion of his choice, and throughout the series, we see how deeply he considers and takes an earp’s opinion to heart. despite being set in modern years, and appended romantic aspects aside, his relationship with wynonna mirrors that of his and wyatts.  

consider that wyatt already killed constance clootie’s sons, and bulshar clootie is the man he was fixed on punishing for cursing him. it’s entirely plausible doc followed closely behind wyatt’s tail after being shunned, and that wherever wyatt was going was only a few days ride from doc’s staying place. the witch clootie admitted she turned doc ageless to hurt wyatt and succeeded, but we also know that where blushar goes, clootie is looking for vengeance. it’s conceivable to theorize certain suspicions such as, but not limited to; doc wanting take back his immortality due to wyatt’s rejection, and in turn while meeting clootie, got tossed with the final  seal into the well.

the “earp well” lol. ↳  we know doc winds up in a well , but it’s location seems to appear elsewhere from it’s original place on the earp property in season one’s pilot episode, to somewhere in a random forest, in s02ep08. the earp property is said by wynonna to be only 10 acres ( 0.125 sq miles ).  for a farm where you have to drive to get from point a to point b, this is not very large or inaccurate. all shots of the property are also mainly rolling farmland with no large forest vegetation resembling that of the well’s site. i’m going to chalk this discrepancy up to this scene having been in the pilot, having a low budget and limited choices for pilot filming location.

doc’s well was never on the actual earp property like some probably assume at first glance, but instead, somewhere else entirely. just go on ahead and re-watch. after retrieving peacemaker and talking to dolls, wynonna drives up to the purgatory town line, truck facing towards the town. it makes for a clear ( or not so clear ) clue hinting the well’s whereabouts. in s2ep08,  juan carlo takes wynonna outside of purgatory to the outskirts for her vision quest. the well is clearly located in that area and tied heavily to the flashback in the church. from a teen wynonna was a drifter. she could have stashed the gun in an abandoned well anywhere, somewhere safe, and no where too close to the homestead.  but here is another thought, doc and wynonna’s fates were entwined, so who knows? maybe she felt specifically drawn to that area and frequented there to clear her head when she was younger. merely a concept.

finally, bobos imprisonment in the well further proves it’s located elsewhere, since revenants can't step foot on earp land without being burned. this gives us some room to play for setting up wynonna earp’s story in colorado.

tying history and flashbacks together. ↳  this is where it gets complicated, where it’s hard to put things into words, and where my divergence really starts, because the show canon entirely ignores actual history when it comes to the true separation and deaths of both of these men.  we have no clue as to the location in either of these flashbacks on the show, but we do see wyatt is wearing a jacket and scarf. it’s apparently cold outside so there’s at least that to work with. the state of colorado has cold winters, which also works in this divergence’s favor.

if the real doc holliday died in glenn springs, colorado, and the real wyatt earp was in aspen, colorado around the time of his death, we could place purgatory somewhere in that area. doc faked his death on the series, between the time he decided he would became immortal, and the time he was thrown in the well shortly after. sewing these realities together puts purgatory in colorado. doc’s death would make the location default. in regards to the comic taking place in the deserts of the united states, this divergence will also have that covered later on.

the canadian show takes an extreme with creative freedoms and gives no resolution  whatsoever as to how wyatt earp somehow settled down in alberta, candada ( did they even do their fact checking?? ) or how every family member has lived there ever since. the actual wyatt earp had no children, and his home was and will always historically be in vidal, california. 

so, let’s make this more believable. what if in another universe that isn’t real history, but makes a hell of a lot more sense when unified with the show’s,            wyatt earp made a home in colorado after bulshar was buried?  not only close to where is thought to be his best friends grave, but where he can keep an eye on, and protect, bulshar’s remains until he dies? bobo moved him, but where were they prior? on the show wyatt is also said to have been partially involved in entombing bulshar’s body. therefore, this explanation would make 100% total sense as to why wyatt and his wife never made it to vidal, california. his life’s journey would have been stopped dead in its tracks, so he could keep the demon who cursed his family from the widows, and make sure bulshar never returned. one could claim, in a historically based, fictional western series, that wyatt earp built a ranch because of this, and settled down with his wife in a town called purgatory, colorado.

☆  // PART III. WYATT’S CURSE, THE REVS, & THE GHOST RIVER TRIANGLE.

wyatt earp’s curse. ↳  the earp curse makes all people that wyatt earp had killed in his lifetime resurrect over and over again. those revenants can only be killed by the peacemaker which only the current heir can use.           wait a minute. wynonna voice: say whaaaat?? wyatt never killed multiple people in canada. at any point in history. how would the 77 people he killed even get to canada if revenants can’t leave the ghost river triangle in the first place??         can you say, major woops? this is personally my favorite fudge up.

the ghost river triangle. ↳  the ghost river triangle is an area of cursed land, partially framed by the splitting of the ghost river into two, that imprisons the resurrected outlaws killed by wyatt earp. should a revenant cross the boundary line, they experience hell on earth. to quote waverly, in leavin' on your mind: '...everything from the mountains to where the north and south ghost rivers meet, forms the ghost river triangle. it cuts through the big city, contains thousands of square miles of forest, foothills, prairie, the badlands. and all of it...cursed.'

forest, foothills, prairie, and badlands? yeah, if we want to place divergent purgatory somewhere in the united states to make the show a little more historically accurate, the ghost river triangle definitely parallels to none other than the colorado river. the colorado river runs through colorado, utah, arizona, nevada, california, and all the way down to mexico. at least three of those states were in fact, wyatt’s stomping grounds before and after his historically recorded vendetta ride. 

not to go with some total, mythical, movie cliche here, but in an alternative wynonna world set in the united states, the ghost river triangle could have also been named by the native americans who inhabited the land along the colorado river. factually, many parts of the colorado river are actually suspected to be haunted. let’s not get too carried away, though. alberta canada is in fact home of a real place called the ghost river valley, and there’s totally no disputing that.

wyatt’s vendetta ride ↳  in history the vendetta ride was a deadly search, where wyatt lead a federal posse for outlaw cowboys they believed had ambushed, and maimed virgil earp and killed morgan earp. the earp brothers had been attacked in retaliation for the deaths of three cowboys in the gunfight at the o.k. corral on october 26, 1881. from march 20 to april 15, 1882, the federal posse searched southeast cochise county, arizona territory for suspects in both virgil's and morgan's attacks. several suspects had been freed by the court, owing in some cases to legal technicalities and in others to the strength of alibis provided by cowboy confederates. up to this point, wyatt had relied on the legal system to bring the cowboys to justice. now he felt he had to take matters into his own hands.

i could be wrong, but i have a feeling the chase for bulshar is loosely based on this part of wyatt earp’s history. the parallel of his two own brothers dying, and two of clootie’s sons dying, is a little thought provoking, no? coincidental even? an eye for an eye, perhaps? there is a lot of wyatt’s history left to be uncovered and explored, and that’s if the show writers even decide to reveal anything else at all. on the show, wyatt got innocent people killed, there was one hell of a lot of collateral damage surrounding him. 

i feel 100% comfortable standing firmly by the headcanon that after wyatt was cursed and his brothers were killed, that he went on a tear after bulshar and destroyed anyone who got in his way. this is important, because these events could be tied to his life in tombstone, arizona, and the events which took place in and after the shootout at the OK corral. if he was cursed in tombstone, then there is no way around it,          one of the ghost river triangle’s points would have to begin there.

the revmap, i mean . . . revamp. ↳ below is a map which bases a divergent ghost river triangle heavily off of history. it takes into consideration doc holliday and wyatt earp’s routes, where doc’s last known whereabouts were, where wyatt would have killed the most men, and finally, his vendetta ride. in total the divergent river triangle’s perimeter is about 2,500 miles and takes 36 hours nonstop to drive. in contrast, the show’s ghost river triangle is 617 miles and takes about only an easy 12 hours to drive from point to point. purgatory is west of denver, and the homestead is about where the house icon is.   ( larger image version is here. )

yeah okay, so the size may be of some issue, but vastness aside, there are three things this triangle does have, that the other doesn’t. firstly, historical accuracy. it includes nearly all of the areas where a number of wyatt’s targets made their peace. if we tie back to wyatt’s vendetta ride and the whole paralleling idea for a moment, many of the revenants who rode with bulshar would've died in various areas of colorado and the purgatory area. secondly, the terrain might aid with narrowing revenant whereabouts down. deserts and mountains surround a majority of these iconic towns.          and lastly another argument can be made that because some revenants do want to end the earp line, few might've simply migrated to colorado and placed themselves somewhere closer within wynonna’s line of fire.

i could continue ridiculously blabbering on and on about why i chose this location divergence for my character. everything from climate, to terrain, and how there are salt flats in utah nearby, or my really strong distaste for how the show writers erased wyatt earp and doc holliday’s real history,            but in honesty i think everything i’ve covered above nicely sums up my research and premise. anywhooo, that’s all for now folks, hope you enjoyed the read!

[the-boxcar-brats]

“Not sure why you’re tellin’ me something I already know, but okay.”

[shewholovestoread]

will you pls update your cersie and sansa meta?? x

I’ve already written one meta about Cersie and Sansa which you can read here.

Having seen all of Season 7, I have to say I am even more convinced that the final showdown must be between Sansa and Cersie for a number of reasons.

Rest of it under the cut:

First off, there are parallels, both Sansa and Cersie are usually overlooked and underestimated by those around them. Dany doesn’t suffer from this because of her dragons, but neither of these two women have that luxury. They are both ordinary (and I use that term very loosely) women who have nothing but their wits to keep them alive. They have had to become smart in order to survive. Cersie had to do it because she was stuck in a love-less marriage with Robert, a man who never really had any ambition to be king and was therefore not as careful as one might have been had they cared about the position. Cersie also knew what had happened to Rhaegar’s wife and children and would not let that happen to herself or her children. In the earlier seasons, her entire focus is on the survival of her family and all her actions lead to that. Sansa, on the other hand, had to learn because her very survival depended on it. She had no alternatives, no protectors, no one to speak up for her.

There was something else that struck me as I was starting this meta, in a way, Cersie was a surrogate mother to Sansa. It makes sense, Sansa was twelve when she went to KL and her mother did not accompany the two young girls, which in itself if quite strange. And before Ned lost his head, Cersie made herself into a mother figure for Sansa. Sansa looked up to her and admired her, wanted to be like her. After Ned’s death, Sansa’s life became a living nightmare but, in a weird way, she still had Cersie who would occasionally advise her, in a way a mother would (albeit it was often harshly delivered, but that did not lessen the importance of the advice itself). It was Cersie who told Sansa that she could try to love Joffrey, implying that he was already a monster and even Cersie could not always control him. In her most formative years, it wasn’t Ned or Catelyn who were with Sansa, it was Cersie. I’ve also stated that, in those early years, she did care for Sansa, in her own twisted way. This gives Sansa an insight into the kind of women she really is which is why there is a part of Sansa that does admire her, because she’s survived where other, more able players have not.

Game of Thrones has been setting up Tyrion as a master strategist and this season just served to illustrate that that reputation may have been premature. He pledged to serve Dany and help her become queen of the Seven Kingdoms and was outmaneuvered time and again by Cersie. In the beginning when Dany’s war council were going over plans of taking KL, it seemed like a great plan, using Westerosi forces to take KL and the Unsullied to take Casterly Rock but while he was feeling smug, he forgot that he was dealing with Cersie. Cersie who learned from her father who was indeed a great strategist. Even at the end, she played both her brothers, especially Tyrion. That entire conversation is a very finely staged performance on Cersie’s part. Every action and word was carefully chosen. When she placed her hand on her stomach, it felt so out-of-character for her. This is Tyrion, she doesn’t trust him, she doesn’t even like him but she does have him figured out. She knew that he did genuinely love Tommen and Myrcella and he does regret that they died. Here’s another thing to consider, Tyrion does have a blindspot where his family is concerned. He hates his sister but she is his sister, there will always be a part of him that sees her through the lenses of a younger brother. Cersie has no such concerns, she would burn the world down and happily watch it burn.

Which brings us to Sansa. We spent the entire season worried sick over whether Sansa would indeed betray her family. Of course, the makers never gave any proof to set up that betrayal but that’s besides the point. If Tyrion was Cersie adversary, LF was Sansa’s. As we found out at the end, Sansa’s problems from the beginning were the handiwork of LF, if not for him Robert would not have come North and would not have betrothed Sansa and Joffrey. The Starks would have stayed home, healthy and whole. But LF’s hunger for power got the entire plot going. He then betrayed Ned and then used and abused Sansa. Sansa suffered some of the worst abuse at the hand of the Boltons and that match was arranged by none other than LF. Like Tyrion (and mind you I love him) LF also has too high an opinion of himself, he’s started believing his own publicity. Throughout this season, he tried to sow the seeds to dissent, first between Jon and Sansa and then between Sansa and Arya. And it would have worked except all season, LF was telling Sansa to think about the bigger picture, to view everyone with suspicion and always play out scenarios in her head so that nothing ever surprises her. This was great advice, except LF thought that for some reason, he was exempt from all these scenarios. Killing him would have been easy but to do so without losing the support of the Knights of the Vale, that was going to be exceedingly tricky. That scene where LF finally meets his end, that too is very carefully constructed, it’s the Knights of Vale who line the Great Hall with Lord Royce present, who already didn’t like him very much but couldn’t openly oppose him for fear of Sweet Robin. She sets him up perfectly, so much so that he never sees it coming.

So Season 7 saw both Cersie and Sansa outplay men who thought themselves to be smarter than the women they were trying to manipulate..

It also set them up in contrast to each other. In Season 6, Cersie burned down the Sept with all those people inside, not to mention all the collateral damage. Whereas Sansa was more worried whether they had enough food to make sure that everyone would be fed and they could take in refugees when the fight against the WW really came. She takes a personal interest when she really doesn’t need to and her people see this. This is evident when Arya comes to Winterfell and the two sentries don’t want to bother Lady Sansa, not because they’re scared but because, in a strange way, they’re protective of her.

Season 7 has so far established 3 main groups, Dany and her quest for the IT, Cersie and her quest for who-knows-what and the North that just wants its own independence and also survive both the WW and Cersie. I’ve stated multiple times that I don’t see Jon retain his crown in Season 8 which makes Sansa the QitN. Jaime recently left Cersie and rode North to fight against the WW and while there he will join Sansa and not Dany. Dany burned his men alive, he doesn’t like her and he doesn’t trust her. Jaime redemption arc started when he was paired with Brienne and tasked with getting the Stark girls safely delivered to their family. Plus he knows Sansa, he knew her father and mother and while he may not have liked them very much, I believe he does respect them. I personally can’t wait for him to meet Sansa and see the capable woman that she’s grown into. Jaime is often blinded by his love for Cersie but he’s starting to see that most of it may have been one-sided. When it is time to make a final choice as to who he will support, I believe he will pick Sansa, simply because she’s the better candidate. The fight against the WW will end with the elimination of one of the groups and I don’t believe it will be the Starks. They’re the protagonists of the series. I believe that Cersie will make it out alive as well with Dany sacrificing herself in the fight against the WW.

In the Starks vs Cersie battle, there will be one key difference from the BotB, Jon will seek out and heed Sansa’s counsel when it comes to how best deal with Cersie.

Anyway, that’s what I think and this post got way longer than I thought it would, but I hope it makes sense.

[info-student-iu-blog]

INFO-I 407 Assignment 1

Ross Bohlander

INFO I-407

HW 1 Blog Post

 Lately, I have been struggling to get enough sleep, and wanted to find a solution. As a senior in college, most of my days are full of tasks, meetings, and classes, and it’s very hard to get through a whole day productively without a good night’s sleep.  Over the past four weeks, I have been monitoring my sleep with an Android app called ‘Sleep as Android: Sleep cycle tracker, smart alarm’. The app is developed by Urbandroid, and its key features are sleep graphs that monitor your quality of sleep, sleep stages, and has a smart alarm that wakes you up when you are in your lightest sleep cycle. After four weeks of using the application and logging my experiences, I am pleased with the app and it has helped me adjust my sleep schedule. Instead of waking up groggy and struggling to stay awake during class, I wake up ready to face the day and I’m more productive in general.

The sleep graphs provided by the app provided the most useful information to me, and I used this information to alter my sleep behaviors. To get the most useful information from the app, you should either enable the gyroscope sensor or the microphone in the app to track your sleep state. Once this is enabled, you simply set your phone on your mattress and it tracks your sleep cycles as you toss and turn or the app recognizes your deep sleep cycles. Once you wake up, the app gives you a visual representation of your sleep, and you can easily see the cycles in your sleep. Along with these helpful graphs, the app also has a smart alarm that uses this same information and wakes you up in your lightest sleep stage within 30 minutes of your alarm ringing. You can also choose to expand the range of wake up times, but for me, 30 minutes gives me a nice medium to wake up a little bit earlier than I planned on doing, feel awake, and still not have woken up so early that I feel tired later on in the day.

Before I used the app, I was vaguely aware that I didn’t get enough sleep, but I wasn’t sure the extent of it. The reason I headlined the visual graphs that the app provided was not only that it outlines how good of sleep you got, but it tells you exactly how much sleep you got, and you can even look at an average of your sleep time over a few days, a week, month, or year. Before using the app, I could get 8 hours of sleep one night and feel worse than I did when I got 6 hours of sleep. I never knew why this was until I investigated the graphs from this app. Upon analyzing my sleep cycles from the graphs, I could infer my quality of sleep. In many cases, I would have very little deep sleep cycles, and more light ‘tossing-and-turning’ sleep cycles on nights when I felt tired the next day. From this information, I could infer the factors that led to my restless sleep. Over the past four weeks, I kept a journal of entries for each day, and on days where I got little exercise, didn’t drink much water, and drank caffeine after dark (or about 8:00 PM), I would feel more tired the next day regardless of the hours of sleep I got. A sleep cycle of 6 hours of deep sleep often made me feel more refreshed than a night of light cycles of 8 or even 9 hours.

Since I kept a journal of some of the key points in my day, how I felt when I woke up and throughout the day, it was pretty easy for me to use the data from the app to improve my sleep schedule. However, for casual users of the app that may just want to track their sleep output and not think about a deeper analysis of it, the app conveniently provides advice to users on how to improve their sleep. A few of the hints that the app would give me are largely the same as the ones I tracked in myself – drink more water, don’t drink as much pop, exercise more, etc. To me, this speaks to the developers of the app and proves that they did research and conducted study groups to provide accurate advice for the general population.

It should be noted that I was using the free version of the app, and the premium version of the app has more features that I cannot speak on. However, to me, the sleep cycle graphs and the smart wake up alarm were the most useful features. By utilizing the graphs, inferring data from them, and considering some of the advice the app gave me to improve my sleep, I saw a positive change in my sleep trends. Although some nights were full of busy studying and doing class projects, I was able to get quality sleep even when I didn’t get as much as I’d like to have. Used in conjunction with these features, the app’s smart wake up alarm is very useful. I combined my knowledge of how to get good sleep and this useful tool to feel refreshed when I woke up. I feel the alarm may even be more powerful than the sleep graphs, as it’s impossible to know when you’re in your lightest sleep cycle and naturally wake up without the help of a tool like this. Compared to using a conventional alarm, I woke up more refreshed and felt less tired.

A feature that could be implemented in the app to make the data more accurate is the ability to sync your phone and the app to a smart wristband like a Fitbit or smartwatch device. Because of the reliance of the app for your phone to be powered on and on your mattress for it to work (note: if you use the microphone method for recording sleep data, you don’t necessarily have to have it on your mattress, but it is said by the app to be less accurate), I failed to record 2 or 3 nights of sleep data because I sat my phone down on the nightstand and it prematurely began recording sleep data until I picked up my phone in the morning. If you could pair your phone and the app to a device like the Fitbit, you could locally store data on the device and sync it to your phone the next morning if your phone died. Along with this loss prevention of data, you could accurately track your sleep cycles by implementing features like heart beat, body temperature, and track your movements much more accurately than you could with even the more accurate gyro sensor on your phone.

Going into this assignment, I was looking forward to the ability to track my sleep and learn more about my sleep trends. I accomplished this goal, and by doing so, was able to take these insights and actually improve my quality of sleep. It is interesting that I note I improved my quality of sleep – even on nights where I didn’t get my target 8 hours of sleep, I still awoke feeling more refreshed due to the quality of sleep I got. Something that I failed to mention in this blog post was how the app challenged me to look into my sleep behaviors and change them myself – in essence, the app made me realize that I had a problem (I wasn’t getting enough sleep each night). Once I faced this – in this case from the sleep graphs and the average sleep time I accrued – I was able to make a commitment to change my behaviors and improve my sleep.

Compared to most apps I have used to track a behavior – tracking calorie intake, tracking workout data, drinking water, etc. – this app was easier to use and consistently use. Even on nights where I forgot to manually start tracking my sleep, the app is smart enough to detect that I wasn’t using my phone and it didn’t detect any motion, and began tracking my sleep. When I woke up, I could view all of the data from the previous night that I wouldn’t have had with a conventional sleep tracking app.

In a separate post, I have attached some screenshots from the app, including sleep graphs, advice, and the smart alarm interface. Overall, I am happy I picked this app to review and track my behaviors, and it made a positive impact in my life.

[veliseraptor]

I did this meme three weeks ago but I feel like I wanna do it again to see if I can corral my brain into cooperating with me. 

Here are my WIPs! Send me a number and I’ll add 150 words to that story or edit for 15 minutes, depending on how complete it is. If I get the same number multiple times, I have to write more for that fic!

Eleven WIPs eligible for this meme (and 11 excerpts) under the read more.

1. And then there was Foster. Jane. There was no question as to what Doom wanted with her - undoubtedly her help using the Tesseract. But she was brave - foolishly brave. Loki would not be surprised if she refused outright. What would Doom do to her then? He couldn’t kill her, not while he needed her. Could he? Would he control her mind as he had tried to do to Loki? Torture her?

Thor would no doubt blame Loki for anything that happened to her. He had threatened her last time they’d seen each other. Loki felt vaguely ill at the reminder, and pushed it hard away. Dr. Foster, he reminded himself, was a detail. Her capture was unfortunate but primarily concerning because of its part in the wider picture.

Take care, Loki, she’d said. I hope you’re wrong. About what Thor might do.

I believe you. Just tell me how I can help.

Forget about her, Loki thought savagely. Focus. (Life in Reverse)

2. Steve wasn’t sure how Sam got everyone to step back and, if not sit down, at least a little further from erupting into violence. He was pretty sure it was some kind of miracle.

Loki placed himself as far from Bucky as possible, still wild-eyed and looking like he was just barely holding together. Bucky stood where he could see the door and the windows as well as Sam, Steve, and Loki, his expression stony. Steve longed to go over to him but planted himself in the middle, equidistant from both Loki and Bucky so if one of them moved he could respond quickly. Hopefully quickly enough.

“Loki,” he said. Loki’s eyes didn’t budge from Bucky, looking like he was about to start vibrating. “Loki,” Steve tried again, “Bucky’s not…part of HYDRA.” Bucky twitched at that name, and Steve wanted to apologize. He held back, for now. After this, when things had calmed down and he could actually talk to Bucky… “He’s a friend.”

Loki looked like he wasn’t sure whether he was going to try to go through the wall behind him or lunge at Bucky. “A friend,” he said, almost spat. “Then why was he there?” (Steve Rogers’ Halfway House for Notorious Supervillains)

3. A group protesting the alien invasion of the Earth (referring, Loki could only assume, to Thor, since the Chitauri were manifestly no longer present) set off a bomb in Cleveland, Ohio that had spewed a toxin that killed in seconds and were threatening to use another. Loki suspected they were not aware that their weaponry was alien in origin. Kree, if he did not miss his guess.

At any rate, naturally the Avengers were there, and he followed.

He meant just to watch. To take the measure of the situation and observe Rogers more closely, so he could be certain his protection could be effective.

That lasted about as long as it took for Rogers to run into an infected building and not come out again. Loki watched for thirty seconds, sixty, ninety…

No one else seemed to have noticed. Or else were just busy enough with their own difficulties not to notice.

Damn it. (Someone to Watch Over You)

4. He continued.

That was the best way Loki could think of to describe it – he did not feel it could be called living. Staring at the ceiling and listening to the quiet drip of the leak in an apartment above him, it occurred to Loki that perhaps that could describe everything he had done since falling from Asgard – since the first time he had decided to die, only to find that death would not accept him. Continuing. Forging doggedly onward because he did not know how to stop.

Apparently he still did not, though he also did not know how to do anything else. He hovered somewhere in between, like a shadow, a ghost. Just substantial enough to feel hunger pangs and thirst, to feel pain and weariness.

That last most of all. He was so tired, and that weight never left him no matter how long he slept. (post svartalfheim au)

5. Thor reached out to grab Loki’s arm and held it fast. “Explain,” he said, his voice vibrating. “Explain to me. Did you – I felt you die. You did not breathe, your heart was still-”

“I know what death is, Thor,” Loki said, trying to shake his hand off. “I lived it. As it were.” Something slipped across his face and was gone in a flash. “Obviously it did not stick, as you can see. That is unimportant right now-”

“Unimportant?” Thor burst out, incredulous. “How can you say – how, Loki, tell me how!”

Loki hissed. “Must you always ask the stupidest questions? How does not matter, nor does why. Do you want to stay here and wait for Her Majesty’s guard to catch us? She may decide to forgo the proper sacrifice and simply kill you prematurely. I am sure that prospect delights you.”

Anger throbbed in Thor’s stomach even as memory of Hela sent a shiver down his spine. He glanced over his shoulder.

“Fine,” he said, through his teeth. “We will do as you say and go. But do not think I will forget this. You will tell me the truth.”

“Ah, yes, the truth,” Loki said, and this time Thor let him yank his arm out of his grip. “Such a simple thing.” (Sword Age, Wolf Age)

6. “I will not go back to Asgard.” Loki’s voice was hard. “And I will not believe – why come now? How did he even learn that I was here?” Loki shook his head. “They want something from me, and that is the only reason Thor has been sent. And when he is refused – he may seem impatient and boorish now, but you have not seen his temper.”

Delightful, Steve thought. Aloud, he said, “you don’t have to go back, Loki. I’ll stand by you on that. He can’t make you do anything without going through me.”

“That is what worries me,” Loki said quietly, but after a moment seemed to shake himself. “You said you knew this…SHIELD. Who are they?”

“A secret organization,” Steve said. “They were…the people who dug me out of the ice, as far as I can tell. At least, they were the people who were there when I woke up. Gave me some resources and turned me loose, though I get the impression that they did it with the implied expectation I’d come when they called.”

Loki glanced toward the front seat, and Steve saw his fingers flick very slightly. “And what do they know about me?” He asked bluntly. Steve shook his head slowly.

“I don’t know. You weren’t...in any of the official histories, but…Peggy was part of the SSR, and the SSR turned into SHIELD. I don’t know what she might’ve said, or to who.”

“Ms. Carter was involved with these people?” Loki said, with a mixture of startlement and disdain. Steve held in the urge to laugh. (Thunderstorms)

7. Natasha found him there maybe an hour later and sat down next to him. “Heard you’re having trouble with your new assignment,” she said.

“You could say that,” Steve said wearily.

“I’d say ‘buyer’s remorse’ but that would probably be tacky,” she said. Steve winced, and she sat down. “Tony looked like he wanted to go on a three day bender when I saw him earlier. Anything you want to talk about?”

“How would you handle this?” Steve asked. Natasha’s eyebrows quirked.

“I wouldn’t have taken the job to begin with,” she said. “In fact, I didn’t. As far as I’m concerned, Asgard should have him back, and good riddance.” Steve grimaced, and she eyed him. “I’m pretty sure they only let Thor saddle us with him because they’re waiting for Loki to kill one of us so they can execute him without Thor getting in the way.”

Steve frowned. “Loki agrees with you.”

“That is…a disconcerting sentence,” Natasha said after a moment. “All right, I’ll humor you. What does Loki agree with me about?”

“That this sentence is a sham. Only he seems to think that the Council is trying to inconvenience me into giving him back.” Steve gave her a weary look. “Slavery would be bad enough, Nat. But this is torture.”

“There’s often not much of a line between the two.” (Tear My Castle Down)

8. “Do you think it’s Ross?” Clint asked, finally. “Seems to me like there’d be more bullet holes involved, if it was him.”

“If not Ross then who,” Bucky snapped, barely pausing in his pacing. “If someone has an idea of an alternative, now’s a good time to speak up, but I’m not sure we shouldn’t just shake Ross and see what falls out anyway.”

“Aliens,” Clint said, simply, and when they looked at him, shrugged. “I’m serious. We know they’re out there. We know a lot of them want Loki’s head on a stick, and they might consider a Earth hero a great bonus. That’d explain how they got in.”

Wanda swayed forward. “I didn’t sense anything,” she said. “Any magic, or…”

“Would you, if you didn’t recognize the type?” Clint asked, his voice going gentler. Pietro scowled at Sam, of all things.

“Aliens,” Bucky said flatly, staring at Clint. “If you think that’s what happened what do you suggest we do about it?”

Clint’s expression flickered. “Do you have a portal lying around somewhere, Barnes? I don’t know. You going to kill me over that?” (we’re not the only ones)

9. “You cannot heal death, Eir,” Loki mumbled. His eyes were still closed, and he did not sound quite conscious, but he clearly listened.

“You are not dead, Loki,” Eir said. “Despite your efforts in that direction.”

“Not yet,” Loki said. “But I am. Halfway. It just needs to finish.”

Eir glanced at Sif, who shook her head. “You need to stop this,” she said.

“No,” Loki said almost dreamily. “I need to end it.” He opened his eyes, an odd expression on his face suddenly, fear and distress. “No,” he said, seemingly to empty air. “Don’t leave me. Please. You have to stay.”

“Loki,” Eir said sternly. “There is no one there.”

A moment later he slumped and let out a shuddering sigh. “Not anymore,” he said, sounding suddenly very sad. “She’s gone.” (We Two)

10. Something faintly familiar about this boy prickled at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t quite pin it down. He looked - maybe ten or twelve, younger than her own sons, but small even for his age. His black hair looked mussed and like it needed a trim; her fingers itched a little for scissors to at least get it out of his eyes.

Wanda shook herself. This was a strange boy who had appeared in her house, and she knew well that few things were exactly what they seemed. “Who are you?” She asked, more firmly. “And what are you doing in my apartment?”

The boy looked a little surprised by the question. “Looking for you, of course,” he said. “You are Lady Wanda Maximoff, right?”

Lady Wanda Maximoff, she thought. That was a new one. “Yes,” she said. “I am, but that doesn’t really answer the question. Either one.”

The boy - squirmed. She studied his face, trying to puzzle out the source of that strange familiarity. “Oh, well,” he said. “You’re arguably the most powerful sorcerer - sorceress - on this - ah, planet, excepting maybe Doctor Strange, but he’s a bit - well, I don’t think we’d get along.” He gave Wanda a hopeful smile, eyes widening a calculated hair. “I’m very curious about magic, and there’s only so much one can get from books.”

Wanda narrowed her eyes. “So you broke into my house?” (untitled Wanda and Kid!Loki fic)

11. “My right,” she said in disgust. “So it’d be justified, because-? Never mind. Don’t answer that.” She made a noise back in her throat. “It bothers me because it disgusts me.” Loki went rigid, and she went on before he could interrupt. “It disgusts me that, no matter what you say about consent, apparently no one ever thought to mention to you that consent still matters when you’re asking someone to hurt you. It disgusts me that I could have – have? – done something you didn’t want and you didn’t tell me to stop because you didn’t think you had the right. And it disgusts me that you can’t tell the difference between torture and sex because apparently for you there isn’t one.”

Loki blinked at her like she was speaking a strange language, and Natasha resisted the urge to strangle him. He’d let her, too. She remembered last time she had. He’d stopped her before it’d gone too far, but she’d tested it because she hadn’t quite believed he would.

She’d known, even then, that she was walking a dangerous line. But she hadn’t thought about what it might mean. Not really. (Privation)

[homefreeinahyundai]

That Time Emily Had a Baby...

It has been about 6 months since we have posted a picture or text. Not much has happened: Donald Trump was elected to America’s most public office and Emily had a baby. So you know, no-big-deal-business-as-usual sort of stuff has been happening so we haven’t really had much to write about.  

The good news is I will not be writing about President Trump; I will focus little Luna’s birth story.

Where to start? Well, when two people love each other very mu... I guess we can jump ahead a bit. Luna’s projected birth date was February 9th, 2017. Today is February 8th, 2017. Do the math.

On December 16th, 2016, more than 2 months before Em’s due date, our good friend Luke “The Doctor” Carson decided to come and visit us, and Sam and Jen (two of close friends), in Korea. His trip was off to a good start. He had a great time with Sam and Jen in Seoul. He ate a bunch of food danced a couple of nights away and had made his way down to our neck of the woods on a Thursday. On Saturday we were all planning to meet in Busan for a poetry event. Several friends from Ulsan (our city) were heading to the event to meet with folks who live in Busan and Sam and Jen were making their way down from Seoul. We had a great long day and got home around 1 am. This is really where our story begins.

When we woke up on Sunday, Em said she wasn’t feeling so hot. Her exact words were something along the lines of, “I feel like I need to fart really bad.” (That is a Trump Administration level direct quote). She said the pain was sort of coming and going. We weren’t too worried since her due date was so far off. But around 9 am she said she thought she lost her mucus plug. Go ahead and google image that. We contacted our translator/nurse at the hospital we had been going to and she said that things would be OK, to take it easy and keep her posted. We went on a hike and had dinner; Emily relaxed at home, messaged friends and googled Braxton-hicks more times than you can count. But really, we just thought that the previous day had worn her out and that she needed to rest. Luke and I took Sam and Jen to the KTX station since they were heading home late that night. We stopped for a cigarette and were thinking of getting a beer, but my phone was almost dead and I didn’t want to be out of contact with Em for any prolonged period of time. We decided to head home and hang at our place. But when we got home, Em was still not feeling well. Just a quick note that Em must have the highest pain tolerance in the world. She said her pain had not escalated and the frequency of the pain hadn't increased. This is when Luke stepped in and did some much needed doctoring.

He looked up some medical journal stuff and basically said that the combination of the pain and the mucus plug was more than enough to warrant a visit to the doctor. He stressed that at worst it would be a wasted trip to the hospital. At around 12:15 am on Monday (December 19th) we went to our hospital.

This hospital has a lot of English speaking staff. They actually sort of specialize in bringing lots of little foreign babies into the world. When we arrived, there weren’t any English speaking staff working. We were sent up to a room to see the doctor on-call. I was asked to wait in the hallway. Em was taken in and as I waited for them to come out I basically chanted “everything is fine, they are going to send us home.” after 15 minutes, a nurse appeared and ushered me in to talk to the doctor. He spoke no English. He asked if I spoke Korean. I said a little (I can order beers and ask for directions like a motherfucker). He started speaking and I caught, “tonight, coming, baby, now 3 cms.” I was hoping against hope that I had misunderstood. I asked them to call the translator and she confirmed my terrible understanding of what the doctor relayed. Luna was on her way. There was no stopping her. She also gave me a little extra bad news. Our hospital had no NICU. We would be sent to a university hospital in our city.

I went to talk to Em about all this and she was cool as a cucumber. It was reassuring. She was a port in a storm. But the storm worsened. The doctor said they had called the university hospital but they had a full NICU. So we would be snagging a ride in an ambulance to Busan, about 90 minutes away. At this point, things sort of get blurry… Luke was waiting outside and Em and I decided that I should get him home, and grab some stuff from ours since we would be away for the next few days. I ran home, grabbed chargers, an iPad, hygiene stuff and some important documents.

I followed the ambulance in our car. The entire car ride, I called family and friends and basically yelled, “EM IS HAVING A BABY” before hanging up.

When we got the hospital, we were sent up to a delivery room and checked in. Em was being attended to by some nurses and I had to go and pay for the ambulance. Yeah, Korea doesn’t fuck around with any sort of billing when it comes to an ambulance ride. On the way to pay for the ambulance the driver wanted to chat about how much he liked my beard and how his was not nearly as nice. Beard envy is all around us. After paying for the ambulance and giving him some beard-growing tips, I ran back up to see Em. I was asked to stay in the waiting room. This was maddening but I was trying to be understanding. This was not our hospital, they don’t know us, this is an emergency so the last thing they need is me in the way. Eventually they allowed me to come back and see Em. I thought this was their standard procedure but later I found out that Em had simply continued to ask about where I was until they finally came and got me from the waiting room.

At this point the doctor (he spoke a little bit of English!) said that the baby was under some stress and they were worried about Em and the baby having a vaginal birth. They said if things got any worse, they would have to perform an emergency C-section. I thought this was the good-old primer for we are going to get you on an operating table. Quick note: Korea is in love with scheduled deliveries and C-sections. But to their credit, they were taking a wait and see approach.

By this time, Em had asked for an epidural. They had to call in the anesthesiologist. By now it was about 5 am and we had been up for nearly 24 hours. But I swear that he entered wearing a cowboy hat, dark sunglasses and a perfectly pressed suit. I was asked to wait outside. When I came back in, he had vanished but Em was finally getting her first reprieve from the labor pains that had been occurring for the last 24 hours.

At this point, we were told that they needed to monitor Em and the baby. We were told to wait. So we waited. And waited. And waited. I felt helpless. Em was tired and still in a little pain. Our baby was in trouble and I was still unsure if they needed to perform a C-section. I cannot tell you exactly why, but I was overcome with the need to monitor the machines that were monitoring Em and the baby. Em slept. I watched the numbers on multiple screens waiting for any dramatic change so that I could alert the nursing staff. But to be clear, I had zero idea what any of the numbers meant. I diligently performed my new job for 2 hours. Finally, around 6 or 7 am, a nurse came in and told us that Em and the baby were doing well enough to have a traditional birth and that we just had to wait. Em began to have a bad reaction to the epidural. She was cold and shaking and vomiting every now and then. But she was also in pain and the epidural was helping with that. So the next hours were a cycle of, me looking at numbers I didn’t understand, Em dealing with pain, Em getting an epidural injection (they don’t have a drip in Korea, they give you a syringe into a tube that is in your back), Em throwing up, Em sleeping, Em being really cold and shaking, me trying to warm Em up. Repeat.

Around 9 am the nurse estimated that Luna would be born around 12 noon. I remember sort of laughing at this. I thought, how in the world could you know how a labor is going to go down to the hour. I mean, Luna decided she was coming two months earlier than anyone thought and this lady thinks she knows the hour in which our child will be born. Yeah, sure. 

Luna was born at 11:58 am on Monday December 19th, 2016. That nurse was a prophet. I watched from a room across the hall as she entered the world screaming. This screaming was music to my ears. Many premature babies are born with weak lungs. They don’t exactly cry but sort of gurgle. This means their lungs are in bad shape. Luna was letting us all know that we shouldn’t judge her before we met her. She was here and her lungs were fucking strong. I remember crying and mumbling to myself, “you tell ‘em Luna, you tell us we don’t know a thing...” The nurse brought Luna to me and said this is your baby: I reached to hold her and the nurse head-faked me. Luna had to go straight to the NICU.

They ushered me to the NICU. I hadn’t even talked to Em yet but they said she was fine. A doctor at the NICU and a translator went through the list of things that premature babies might struggle with. They warned that she might not be able to eat, that her lungs might be severely underdeveloped, that she might have a brain hemorrhage, that she might be partially blind or deaf… The full weight of our situation began to crystallize. I have always loved living abroad. Em and I feel lucky to have been able to build a new home together and to feel so welcomed to be part of a country and community that is so far from where we were born. But at that moment the distance, the language barrier, the lack of friends and family felt like a crushing weight. I saw Luna. She was so small. She wore a Bane-style breathing mask and a feeding tube. I wept. They were tears of worry and happiness and wonder and confusion.

I went to see Emily and told her about Luna. We were told that were only able to visit Luna for 10 minutes per day from 12 noon to 1 pm. This was shocking and frustrating. But there was no fighting this policy. We had to wait for Em to meet Luna. That crushing weight that I mentioned earlier was remedied by the kindness of our friends (who treated us like family) in Korea. We had two sets of visitors that night. Tamsyn and Simon, and KBS, Eunji and their son Jr. came to see us. They brought us food and drinks. They gave us hugs and smiled with us. They heard our worries and they walked around the hospital and helped us ask all the questions we had been unable to articulate. We will never repay them for their kindness.

Long story short, we were in the hospital for 3 days. Luna was there for 16. We drove the 3 hours round-trip every single day (accept when our Lovely friend Josh allowed to stay in his apartment in Busan) to see Luna for 10 minutes at a time. We were given a daily update, translated over the phone by Eunji. I couldn’t see Luna, due to work on 5 of those 16 days. There were worries. I smoked too much. Em and I cried together on occasion wondering if Luna would see and hear, speak and walk, or have any long-term health issues. As of today, she is a normal 1.5 month (or -1 day!) old baby. She cries and poops and eats and cuddles. There are obviously long-term issues that might come up, which is true for any premature baby. But after weathering this initial storm, I know that our family (which is far larger than those we share a name with) is up for any challenge that we might face. I have the highest of hopes for Luna and her ability to live a life full of love, kindness and autonomy.

Her name is Luna Francesca De Celles Garcia and she was born at 11:58 am on December 19th, 2016.

[risingsouls]

Recruited: Chapter 8

[Here’s chapter 8! Much more laid back action wise than the last one, but still fun imo. :P Gotta have those heart to hearts you know. Or something like it.

Small reminder than you can find the whole thing in one place over here, as well as a few other things I’ve written for or related to this blog! :3]

Vegeta

Another prematurely assigned mission that left them idle on some random planet with nothing to do until the recon team finished their report. He didn't know if it was those lazy bastards slacking off or the dolts tasked with making the final decision of a planet's fate taking their sweet time that lead to these mix ups in his team's orders, nor did he care more than a creeping desire to knock some heads for it if he ever figured it out. But it still irritated him beyond measure to touch down ready to purge a planet or fight another bunch of rebellious fools only to be told to stand by for orders. This was the third time in a row since they left base last.

Nappa and Raditz finally wore Nabooru down to join them in whatever revelry they might sniff out, leaving the prince alone with the pods and waving their efforts of convincing him to tag along off with the usual orders of don't do anything too stupid and to secure a place to stay. He spent the time reviewing information regarding the last three jobs on their itinerary and finishing up reports from the last few, fielding whatever questions had cropped up since their completion. The most prominent of them, along with complaints about it, being why the palace on Trimbon had been destroyed. He easily explained it away with a tale about the leader destroying it when he realized they had him cornered. The fact that he had to cover up for Nabooru’s spur of the moment and inexplicable decision irked him no matter how simple the excuse. He attempted to confront her about it on multiple occasions, but she infuriatingly failed to provide a sufficient answer and went to great lengths to avoid all three of them until earlier. 

Perhaps he would venture another attempt. If he found her drunk enough, perhaps she would be more compliant. But the image that haunted him since the mission in question put a halt to the plan. Outside of their occasional spars where he was far more concerned with ensuring she had not crept closer to surpassing him by some miracle and keeping himself from any egregious injuries, jobs like that on Trimbon usually kept them spread out, taking care of a faction here or another there all across the planet. 

The battle that ensued within and in front of the palace on Trimbon placed the four of them in a relatively small area. He took up a post near the entrance to stymie any further rebels from entering the edifice and was the first to see Nabooru emerge. In that moment, he thought little more than to silently order her to quit gawking and get to work. But as time wore on and they fought against the steadily decreasing flow of soldiers descending upon them, he caught his gaze flitting to the flash of crimson in the periphery. Since that day, he regretted his outright pause to observe her for now the image had burned itself in his memory and cropped up in moments where he failed to keep his mind occupied enough.

Tendrils of her red hair loose of her tied up hair. Sweat glistened on her brow. Blood of her victims smattered her face, armor, and the knuckles of her gloves. How she seamlessly shifted styles from hand to hand melee to wielding her ki blades, mastered and perfected to mimic the shape similar to the curved swords they saw in the window. Her flawless form, the efficiency of her blows that incapacitated if not killed her enemies. But most notable even from a distance was the fire in her gold eyes, the drastic change from the mere glimmer he caught on normal occasions, the near dead stare. A scene an artist would die to capture, a warrior goddess in battle. He was partially glad for the sucker punch a rebel delivered the side of his head; he deserved it for such a stupid thought and losing his focus.

No, for now he would seek out that damn recon team. Harassment would have to do as killing them would only steepen the bureaucratic nonsense as well as their increasing workload. He was sure they would be slapped with more recon if he obliterated one of the specialist teams.

Considering the weaker power levels among the populace, he located the team easily with his scouter on the other side of the planet. His search brought him to a strangely scarlet lake and, upon landing on its shores, he found three abandoned piles of force issued armor. The Saiyan’s nose scrunched and his lips curled in disgust. Dark gaze roved the lazily rolling waves and, toward the center, found three heads bobbing in the water (or whatever it was). A heightened sense of hearing caught jovial conversation and laughter only further grating his nerves. 

Energy built in each of his palms. He shot a wave of ki downward at an angle into the water. A tidal wave rose upward from the force and the prince rose into the air to avoid the onslaught himself. He heard the recon team scream in shock and terror as they rose into the air on the crest of the wave and were slammed back onto the shore. A malicious smirk curled his lips again and he descended, landing in front of the beached soldiers. Mud squelched beneath his boots and, when three pairs of eyes settled on him, the trio scrabbled to their feet, terror and embarrassment over their state of undress evident on their features.

"How is the recon going? Is cavorting around like you're on vacation conducive to collecting data now?"

The largest of the three, towering over the Saiyan, struggled not to quake with fear. "V-Vegeta. Why are you here? We haven't finished our rep--"

"Obviously. Which is exactly why I'm here." Obsidian gaze narrowed at each member individually before falling on the giant again. "Because of your slacking my team and I are stuck on this scorching heap of a planet until you fools submit a sufficient and complete report. And here I find you idiots enjoying a leisurely swim. How do you think that makes me feel?"

When none of them answered, Vegeta's lip rose upward, revealing his sharp canines. Lightning-quick reflexes snapped his arms up, palms out. He fired blasts between them, making sure it narrowly grazed along the sides of their faces. Two winced and clapped a hand to the scorch mark, the third had to stifle a pained yelp with the hand not tending to his wounded cheek. 

Vegeta kicked a boot, whacking the large one in the gut. Air burst past his lips and he doubled over in pain. "Find your damn armor and get back to work. If I don't have orders for this planet by the time I wake up, you're all dead. Hear me?"

They each babbled some form of "Yes sir" along with their apologies. The prince merely huffed and left them to their hunt, taking flight once more. Gloved hand tapped his scanner and he clued in on his cohorts' power levels. They hadn't strayed far, finding amusement in the city nearest their pods. His success in lighting a fire beneath the recon team urged him to seek the answers he wanted from Nabooru. Without slowing, he changed course for their location, weaving between the near blinding skyscrapers and descending once close enough to their readings.

The lights of the hotel the readings brought him to shifted through a rainbow of colors from the entrance to the windows. He stepped into an elegant lobby that could pass as the entrance hall of a castle with a spacious bar and lounge area built off of it. Knowing his cohorts, he ignored the staff that approached and at the front desk and strode through the wide archway. Though not a fan of the color choice, the lighting here remained a soft pink, casting plush couches, the expansive bar and the bottles behind it, and tables in a warm but nauseating hue. A quick scan of the near empty room and he found the Gerudo seated at a table near the back, the hulking masses of the two Saiyans missing, though empty glasses sat in front of the other two seats which meant they abandoned the woman or she wasn’t holding back in her own consumption. She had her legs stretched out in front of her, gaze locked on a painting across from her and a glass balanced between her fingers.

Weaving through the tables, he approached where she sat and sank down in one of the abandoned seats. “I see you decided to join us after all. Or me, now. The other two...well, you can guess.”

Vegeta snorted and shifted the empty glasses in front of him toward the other side of the table. “Figures,” he huffed, folding his arms and crossing one leg over the other, a playful smirk curving his lips. His tail unwound from his waist and swished idly behind him. “Didn’t find anyone for yourself?”

“You really think that’s what I get up to when I tag along with these two?” She scrunched her nose and finished off the liquid in her triangular glass. He tried to ignore the relief he felt with her answer and attempted to convince himself it was due to nothing other than not having to deal with another insatiable idiot on his team. “Raditz and Nappa tried to convince me it would be good for me. Help me relax, relieve stress, blah, blah, blah. Too bad for...well, everyone I’m a whole lot pickier than either of them.”

He offered little more than a grunt in response, noncommittal in its belief or disbelief of her claim. Several minutes passed before the Gerudo broke the silence between them, obviously in no rush to continue conversation. "You came all this way for something, and I doubt it's to find someone to warm your bed tonight. You haven't gotten a drink, either. So, what is it?"

Dark eyes narrowed a hint, her flippant and near demanding tone grating. "Watch it," he growled, the warning twofold: first to remind her of her place and second of the scouter pressed to the side of his head. She had apparently abandoned hers in her room. "You know why I'm here."

She shifted in her seat and grimaced, eyes darting from the tables sporting patrons to the bartender counting stock. "Mm, right. Your key." She reached into her armor and retrieved two card keys, one she extended to him. "I got us the suites on the top floor and made Nappa and Raditz take rooms a few floors down. Might help us actually get some sleep if we don't have to listen to them."

Vegeta snagged it. "Good. I doubt we'll have long to rest." His tail swatted the air behind his seat with new vigor, a mischievous smirk twisting his lips. "I found the recon team and had a...conversation with them. If they know what's good for them, they'll be completing their reports sooner rather than later."

"Maybe you should look into a career as a motivational speaker," Nabooru teased with a snort. She pushed up onto her feet and stretched. "If you're ready, I can show you where our rooms are. I might have done a little convincing myself to make sure we got them. They’re very nice."

The prince followed her lead and stood, gaze shifting and lingering on the bar. He rarely indulged, and after the headaches of the past few weeks, he deserved a drink. Leaving Nabooru behind and baffled, he strode over to the bar and behind it. A wicked glare shut the bartender up immediately, and Vegeta took stock of the bottles lined along the back wall. He picked two at random and snatched a glass before joining the woman at the lounge entrance.

"Did you really want a drink or did you just want to terrorize that poor man?"

Vegeta pressed the button to call the elevator, a cylindrical glass tower in the center of the building. "Both, of course." He nodded to the glass in her hand, apparently snagged from the table when she saw what he was up to. "How can you be so sure I intend to share?"

She leaned down and pressed the proper sequence of buttons to take them to the top of the hotel. "Because you know you're more likely to get results if you liquor me up some."

"Or I'll get drunken rambling and potential crying over your home world." His smirk returned when she glared. "You think I want either of those outcomes?"

"I'll have you know I'm an eloquent and happy drunk," she sniffed, returning to her full height as the elevator shot upward. Each floor passed by in a blur. "I don't even get sloppy."

"You couldn't even pronounce my name the last time I went out with you fools. Don't try to lie to me."

Nabooru's lips twitched upward and the elevator stopped, a computerized voice announcing their arrival and  floor number. "You can't base your analysis on one instance, you know." 

Vegeta followed her out of the elevator and into the circular hall that wrapped around it. She headed to the left and stopped at the only door on this side. "Here's your room. Mine's on the opposite side." She moved out of the way to allow him passed, and he held up the card to the lock. A short beep sounded and the doors slid open. "There's a balcony. The view isn't bad."

Code for a private place they could talk about her stunt back on Trimbon without worry of eavesdropping from his scouter. Another grunt and he entered the suite signaling for her to follow. Opulent as the rest of the hotel and borderline tacky, the lighting in it was far more tolerable in a calming, light blue hue bright enough to illuminate the room without creating a gloom. The furniture from the sitting area to the expansive bed were grand, fit for royalty. Far better than the hovels they usually ended up booking to save credits. Unless she talked them into a discount, frugality hadn't been on Nabooru's mind when she checked them in. It had been a while since he felt his title, and this room offered a semblance of a chance to.

He pulled off his scouter and chucked it onto the too-large bed, turning it off first for safety. Nabooru had already ventured across the room and pulled open the doors to the balcony where a table with a pair of chairs had been set up on one side along with a couch suitable for the outdoors across from it on the other end. Liquor in hand, he joined her at the table and closed the doors behind him before taking the seat across from her. 

"Spill," he demanded, popping the lid off one of the bottles. He poured the liquid into the glass, watching it shift from one color to the next in a near dizzying effect. "What the hell were you thinking? You're lucky this was easy to write off as that idiot rebel leader trying to make a final statement."

Nabooru caught the bottle when he slid it roughly to her and filled her own glass. "Would you believe I got caught up in the moment?"

"No. That was calculated. I saw it in your face. Who were you looking to piss off? Me? Frieza? Or did that bastard make you feel particularly belligerant?"

He was certain she was going to refuse to answer or feed him more lies and half truths by the glower she sent his way over the rim of her glass. The challenge in her eyes. She tipped the glass to her lips and took a generous swig. "In a way, I suppose it is that last one. I understood where he was coming from on a very personal level." She must have noted his further souring expression or the growl that rumbled in his chest because she added, "No, I didn't do that for a dead man that perhaps really did only want the power that came with insurrection and not to better the lives of those he led or his cause no matter how similar it had been to my situation back home. I'm not an idiot. It was for me and only me. Catharsis, in a way…"

She trailed off and he considered shoving the table into her gut and pinning her to the wall with it until she elaborated. He swallowed his first swig of the sour liquor, the burn in his throat harsh but pleasant, and she continued of her own volition. "It reminded me of the castle. Their castle. I didn't get to be a part of my people taking Hyrule which no doubt would have included blowing up that damn castle to destroy the symbol of the Hylians’ power and to make way for one more suited to our tastes and culture, so I used destroying the hub of Trimbon's government as a substitute."

Her response did little to make him feel better about it, though at least now he understood the why. "It was stupid. Petty. Trimbon's royal family is one of the Colds' oldest and closest allies. You're lucky I covered for you because King Cold himself would have ordered your execution despite his retirement."

"Makes sense the people wanted to rebel, then," she grumbled, glaring at the color changing liquid in her glass. She drained it and her face screwed up either from the sour flavor or the burn in her throat. "I didn't ask you to cover for me. I'm surprised you did, with how often you threaten to kill me. You don't want to deal with me, you never did. It would have been a prime opportunity to get me off your back."

Vegeta stared at her--cold, intense--dark eyebrows lowered and a deep frown on his lips. "You're right. It would have been." Smirk returned along with the wicked gleam in his eyes. "But when you die, it will be by my hands. Not some nameless executioner or Frieza or his family."

Many of his threats were for show, a reminder of who was in charge to keep her in line and an obedient member of his team, but it didn’t mean she was wrong in her claims. Whether the bluffs convinced her to behave or she made her own conscious decision, he didn't care. She proved efficient and loyal enough, stepping out of line in only minor ways that usually involved the dregs of a rebellious attitude she couldn't or wouldn’t quite shake. This job, the toll he knew it took on her morality, hadn't squashed her pride and for that he could commend her. Trimbon had been her largest transgression, the riskiest for no reward other than self-satisfaction. Perhaps he should have cut her off for it, but it cemented his suspicions about her dissatisfaction with Frieza adn his family’s influence. That she would take risks that could endanger her life or those of her people if she thought she could get away with it (she no doubt knew it would be simple enough to explain away; accidents happened). 

But...how loyal was she to him? When he decided to enact his revenge, would she betray him?

“Then when are you going to off me? Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

Vegeta shrugged a shoulder and finished off his first drink. “When you are no longer useful to me. When you fuck up bad enough. Maybe next time you mouth off. Who’s to say?”

“This feels like a challenge to test you on that. You know I can’t turn down a challenge.”

He growled and refilled his glass, allowing his tail to slip from its spot around his waist. He considered dismissing her, sending her off to her own room before she engaged in that “challenge.” The intense heat of the day had cooled to a more pleasant degree and the potent strength of the foreign liquor already had spread slight heat into his face and he felt less combative than usual. He considered the danger of it, of letting his guard down no matter how private the space seemed, but it failed to linger longer than a moment in favor of admiring the view Nabooru mentioned.

He lost track of time, how long the oddly comfortable silence lasted between them, and in that time forgot Nabooru was still there. He blinked stupidly at the skyline when she spoke again, glad he was mindful enough not to look at her when he did. "Do you ever think about what your life would have been like if you Frieza hadn't taken you? And if your planet hadn't been destroyed?"

"I try not to," he answered gruffly, gaze remaining on the neighboring skyscraper and the people milling about on its roof. He considered firing a blast over to it to cause a little mayhem. "What would be the point?"

He heard her breathe a sigh, annoyed by his refusal to entertain her attempts at conversation. "I'm just curious about your culture, I suppose. What would life be like for the prince of all Saiyans if he was allowed to truly fill the position?"

Finally, Vegeta allowed his attention to return to the Gerudo. "With or without the empire's influence?"

"Both, I suppose. If there's a difference."

He eyed her a moment longer, jaw tight as he considered whether he really cared to open this conversation up with her. Or anyone. He kept himself closed off for a reason. Protection. To remain aloof and out of reach. He didn't want to let anyone too close, least of all her. Not when he already struggled to purge her from his idle thoughts as it was.

"Not much," he said at last, taking another swig of his drink. "Even before the Cold Empire found out about the Saiyans, once we had the technology at our disposal from the conquered Tuffles, we traveled from planet to planet looking for the next challenge to our might. We waged war and took what we thought would benefit us. As the prince, I would likely be joining in on that. The prince conquered. The king ruled."

The flicker of a grimace passed over his features when, instead of his own voice, he heard his father's repeating the mantra he so often reminded the young prince of. He covered it by continuing: "The difference over whether the empire got its hands on us or not would be that we did it for a salary and for another cause rather than our own. It was no longer about testing ourselves and securing our own wealth but rather expanding an empire that didn't belong to us. So I suppose I would be doing much of the same as I am now until Father croaked and I was crowned king."

Nabooru propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her palm, fully engaged. Her gaze remained fixed on him through the entire explanation, and it both emboldened and unsettled him. The latter for reasons he couldn't place. "And then you would have to stay planet side and ruled the home front, I assume? Marry and produce heirs? That sort of thing?"

"Precisely." He snorted. It all sounded so boring in comparison to busting planets, traveling, and fighting. He hated doing it for the damn Colds, but it sounded far more exciting than attending to squabbles between tribes and classes, discussing wars and missions rather than participating in them, and sucking up to Frieza more than he already had to. Not to say he didn't want the title, the power that came with it. He was more than proud of his birthright, and he longed for it along with the universe as his father had promised him. He simply struggled to imagine anything different for himself when he long ago came to terms with his permanent station. His meaningless title. 

Maybe someday he would take it all back. Acquire all that he was promised.

"While marriage isn't common for Saiyans, it was expected of the king. Almost immediately after my coronation, I would be given lists of all the most powerful warrior women along with their family histories, combat records, and anything else my advisors deemed pertinent to choosing a queen and best choice for breeding a powerful heir. Then, all it usually took was a formal declaration from the king to the woman informing her she had been chosen to wed the king and take up the mantle of queen." The hint of a smirk ghosted his lips. "Mother was different, though. As the top general of our army, she forced my father to defeat her in battle before agreeing to marriage."

"Sounds like the proper way to accept a marriage proposal if you ask me."

"Is that how you accepted the one from your king?" The question popped out before he could stop it, the mild surprise on her features--either from the question itself or the fact he remembered that detail from a conversation that occurred a few years prior he couldn't say--reminding him of how out of place it was. Thus, he huffily added, "Yours was a warrior race too, wasn't it? It only seems fitting."

Shock melted away to humor, and she relaxed in her seat once more. "I didn't. But after hearing that story, I wish I had." She took a sip of her drink, returning to the moment in question. "While he wasn't quite as cocky about how he could have any Gerudo woman he wanted being the king and only male in the tribe since, if he wanted me, I made it clear that I wasn't big on the idea of sharing him any more than I had to with his position, it still would have humbled him to not get an immediate yes from me. I suppose I made it difficult enough to win me over, so I'll just have to take solace in that."

"At least you're not easy, then. Though you more than proved that through spurning Nappa's and Raditz's advances."

"And everyone else's," she pointed out with pride. It was his turn for his features to shift momentarily to surprise, a change she must have noted, for she added, "Did you think they were the only two trying to bed me, Vegeta? I'm strong, smart, funny, clever, absolutely ravishing--"

"Insufferable, vain, reckless, stubborn, a pain in the ass," he finished for her with a devilish smirk. "Need I go on?"

She met his insults with a wink and a grin of her own. "All true, but plenty apparently find all those qualities endearing, if not outright charming."

"Fools easily tripped up by a pretty face and their libido, and therefore hardly worth mentioning," he said, expression falling as he finished the contents of his glass. 

Nabooru chuckled and followed suit, returning her glass to the table. "Exactly. Why do you think I haven't taken any of them up on their offers? I know what they see when I walk by them. You have to earn my bedroom company, and a few cliché compliments about how pretty I am won't cut it."

"At least someone other than me has standards on this team." Vegeta inwardly cringed when his unfettered mind relived memories of the sort of company he witnessed Nappa and Raditz courting time and again. The sordid tales of their escapades. He could only guess at the filth they dug up on this planet. 

The sound of liquid pouring and the weight in his hand increasing snapped him out of his train of thought. He glanced up just as Nabooru finished filling his glass and returned to her seat to refill her own. In a need to shift the conversation back to the original path, he asked, "So if you were back home, you would be enjoying the luxury of being queen on your newly conquered planet?"

Nabooru chewed her bottom lip and set the near empty bottle on the table, gold gaze lowered and avoidant. "I suppose so. I'm not sure how luxurious I would let it be. I always had trouble sitting still, and I'm sure there would be plenty for me to do. It's hard to say when it's new territory for my people." She took a generous gulp of the alcohol. "But I imagine we would have married at some point, sure. Now if Frieza hadn't come along and offered us the ki training? I'm…not so sure."

"Oh? Trouble in paradise, then?"

"Heh, that's putting it lightly," she said, bitterness in her tone. "The state of things had us at each other's throats more often than not because we disagreed on how best to deal with Hyrule and help our people. Had it gone on any longer, I doubt we could have lasted with how nasty the fights got."

Vegeta swirled the remaining liquid in his glass. Considering her stubborn and strong willed nature, he didn’t doubt her claims. In the short time he had been acquainted, he both witnessed and experienced them first hand through arguments or the occasional questioning of his decisions. Thus, that she would employ the same with the king of her race--someone with far more incentive to keep her alive than he had--sounded as plausible as anything else. His smirk flickered back onto his lips; he wondered if their arguments lead to the same sort of rousing spars as his did with her. His tail perked up and swatted the air behind him at the thought. He half considered challenging her to one. A far better use of their time than idle chatter. He could easily pick at her nerves and push her buttons, witness the flicker of that light in her eyes that preceded the passionate flames that ignited there while she was in the throes of battle. Besides, she put up a more exciting fight when she was pissed.

"Are you thinking about fighting or murdering me?"

The prince growled, more at himself for getting caught up in his own thoughts to the point of losing his focus again. Once more he blamed the alcohol. "What?"

Nabooru nodded to him. "That smirk." She shifted to the side and indicated his tail with another tilt of her head. The appendage snapped back around his waist. "Your tail was doing that thing it does."

"Is that a crime?" he demanded, glaring. He downed the remainder of his third drink. "Perhaps you deserve a little physical punishment for blowing up that palace."

"At least it wasn't the whole planet. That thought crossed my mind, too."

Another grunted response, though her comment brought him back to his original intention in engaging her after her repeated attempts to avoid him and the other two after Trimbon. He eyed the bottle for a moment then refilled his glass and topped her off. With so little left in the bottle, he tipped it to his lips and finished it off, tossing the bottle over the balcony. “Speaking of planet destruction…you recall how mine was destroyed, right?”

The unexpected change in topic threw her off, head tilting to the side in question. “A meteor, wasn’t it?”

“That’s what we were told.” Nabooru's frown deepened, and Vegeta continued. "At first I thought it was just my pride and denial that fought the explanation, the thought of my entire race being wiped out by something as insignificant as a damn hunk of space rock pathetic and infuriating. I couldn't blame the clods that mocked us for it. The great Saiyan race who conquered planet after planet reduced to dust by a rock."

He paused and took a generous gulp of the alcohol, the sour taste and the burn negligible by then. "The more I thought about it the less sense it made. We had the technology to warn us of incoming threats like that and it would have been destroyed before making impact no matter how massive. Most of the race was planet side, so it wouldn't have been difficult. Someone destroyed Planet Vegeta and everyone on it, and only Frieza or someone on his orders would have the strength and clearance to do it. I wouldn't put it past the bastard to do it himself, though."

Nabooru remained silent, but her lips parted slightly in surprise. Whether over his theory or the fact that he shared it with her at all he could only guess. "That's a big accusation," she said at last, rethinking a sip of her drink and setting it back on the table. "Certainly plausible but...from what I've heard from you, Nappa, and Raditz, weren't the Saiyans a formidable part of his army? I mean the three of you alone accomplish a ton, so I can only imagine the work a whole planet of you could accomplish. Why would he want to obliterate that?"

"The shit Frieza pulls doesn't have to make any damn sense," Vegeta growled. "You haven't been around him enough. I've witnessed him kill on a whim for his own entertainment, for something as little as bringing up the wrong bottle of wine. He's grown bored of entire prospects with great influence while his father was in charge and demolished them for sport. He could have destroyed my planet for a number of reasons or for none at all. But I know he had a hand in its destruction if he didn't blow it up himself."

This time, Nabooru downed half of her glass without hesitation, her gaze distant. He had a decent guess where her mind went. How truly tenuous the safety of her people was, no matter how hard she strove to hold up her end of the bargain struck with the tyrant. How they could be dead already for all she knew. 

She chewed her bottom lip. "Why are you telling me all this? What do you know that I don't?"

The hint of a smirk twitched at the corner of his lips. "Nothing solid, and nothing you probably didn't just scare yourself into believing." Her scowl widened his wicked grin a touch. "I'm going to kill Frieza. If not for my planet's destruction and everything I was robbed of, then for years of being forced to act as his slave and enduring his torments. Swallowing my pride to appease him and to secure my place as the most powerful warrior in the universe. I'm telling you because I need to get stronger, and you're going to help me do it."

"Oh, am I?" She leaned back in her chair, glass held between her thumb and middle finger. "What if I don't want to risk that and I refuse?"

"You won't. You want to get stronger, too, and that stunt you pulled on Trimbon shows you're not that afraid of risk." Her gaze met his, unshakeable and unreadable. "Besides, you want to see your home again. You really think you'll get to while Frieza's got you in a chokehold?"

"So you're saying if I help you defeat Frieza and take his empire, you'll let me return to Hyrule?"

"If that's what you really want at the time, I don't see why not. It won't be difficult to find a replacement for you if I feel I need to. What do you really have to lose at this point?"

His tail uncoiled from his waist again, and he finished off his glass as he observed her. It surprised him that she had to consider the offer at all. Then again, he had never given her real reason to trust him or his word, and he wasn't entirely convinced he would keep that promise to her when the time came. Or if he physically could if her planet suffered the same fate as his own. It would depend on his needs, he supposed. How disposable he felt she was after achieving his goals.

Finally, she tore her gaze from the city skyline and nodded stiffly. "Fine. I'll help you. I'm sure my association with you would get me killed even if I didn't." Full lips shifted to a slight smirk of her own. "Plus, besides ripping me from my home to do his dirty work, I've seen enough of what Frieza has done to want to see him dead. And you deserve to kill him more than anyone else I can think of."

"Hmpt, you're smarter than I give you credit for." He chuckled darkly when she rolled her eyes. He stood. "Now, let's go. I'm sure we can fit in a decent spar before those idiots finish their report."

Nabooru finished her drink and followed suit. "So you were thinking about fighting me earlier. I'm flattered."

"You wouldn't be if you saw how badly I embarrassed you." He nodded to the sky, boots leaving the balcony. "Enough talk. Follow me. I know a spot."

Without a glance back, he sped off into the night, Nabooru joining him at his side a moment later. 

[flawtist-diaries]

Getting back into the swing of things

So, it’s been a couple of weeks since I made my blog; my ‘this will definitely make me practice’, my ‘this will make me a good pianist’ blog. And, actually, though I haven’t done daily blogs like I planned to, it has been a really productive couple of weeks. I’ve been most focusing on the first movement of the Pathetique sonata; something I ham-handedly ‘learned’ when I was about 15, against the advice of my then teacher who, in retrospect, was right that I wasn’t ready. I was playing the third movement for an exam at the time, but, like a lot of young pianists, was overly eager to play the first movement, having listened to it on CD for the last million years all day every day, pining for the day when I would finally perform it myself. My teacher advised me to wait and just to focus on the third movement; various techniques needed a lot of strengthening if I was to have any hope of playing the first movement well. Annoyingly, I didn’t listen and went home and ‘learned’ it by myself. Well, I learned a version of it, one that didn’t even closely resemble the actual piece and one that, also annoyingly, has stubbornly stayed in my muscle memory even all these years later. 

This piece has really just been something that I have played bits of periodically during times of procrastination in practice sessions; it’s never been something I have seriously worked on, until about 3 or 4 weeks ago. Unlearning all of the terrible things I was doing before has been a bitch. The tremolo in the left hand (yeah, that one) has been a bigger bitch. Currently it is my biggest overall frustration; I know for sure that the tremolo that I used to play when I was first attempting this piece as a stupid teenager was uneven, not remotely in time, too loud and VERY sloppy. Playing the same pattern in practice now with my right hand is pretty easy, and causes none of the pain/fatigue that occurs when I play it with my left. I know that I rotate at the wrist far more in my right hand, and that this at the heart of is why it feels so much easier. My left hand/wrist, seemingly no matter how much I try to focus on rotating, remains stiff as a board. It’s getting there, slowly, and I will have times where I think something has clicked and all of a sudden it is lovely and even, almost nice to play. Then I will play it again, and it feels worse than it ever has. So, for now, I’m doing a lot of isolated practice, lots of slow technique work with a metronome, and lots of watching videos on youtube about this exact issue. Incidentally, I was dealing with a separate issue later in the piece at one stage in my practice earlier this week, and wanted to see if an older copy of the music had any detailed notes about it. It didn’t, but in looking, I saw the following paragraph, written solely about THAT FUCKING TREMOLO:

“The first movement needs the staying-power required for big things...the danger is that young players are apt to attack it without any idea of the steady and cautious work that it needs. The student’s first ambition should be to acquire a good tremolo...patience in this matter will be as surely rewarded as premature forcing of pace and tone will lead to chronic discouragement.”

You don’t say. 

Anyway, going back to a much more methodical approach to practice has been really wonderful. Piano playing is the one thing I can still focus on for a long time without needing to look at my phone etc; in fact, at the moment, whenever I’m looking at my phone, it will be the piano that draws me away.  I also made a point a few times this last couple of weeks to use a practice room rather than my digital piano at home. Obviously, playing on a digital destroys technique and strength etc etc, especially long term. My first time playing an acoustic in at least a couple of years was such a mixed experience. It felt intensely loud! But I guess that’s a given. Besides that, it felt heavier to play, of course. But I also felt like I had a lot more control in terms of playing evenly (tremolo aside, that actually feels way harder on acoustic than on a digital).  It also just reminded me of how much I love the piano, and how much I’ve missed being a pianist. It sounds a little melancholic but actually I’m just pleased to be playing again...ok, perhaps with a lot of regret mixed in, but overall I’m happy. I’ve realised that I do need to buy an acoustic piano at some stage, or at least rent one in the meantime. It’ll be going to my house rather than my apartment; still, I just hope it’s not too much of an issue for the neighbours! 

I have also realised, through going to the practice rooms, that there are a couple of mental issues tripping me up pretty hideously, so I’m going to work on them. Being able to hear other pianists playing in the rooms around me is 

a) making me feel totally like an imposter; I can’t play like them anymore and I feel quite embarrassed knowing that they can likely also hear me.

b) causing ‘performance anxiety’. I know I’m not performing for anyone, but just knowing that someone might hear me is giving me something akin to stage fright, which is ridiculous and annoying. I’m going to write a separate blog post on this next week, with various plans to overcome it. But meh. 

Anyway, first blog done! Lots of practice done. Long may this continue!

[eleganthologrambouquet-worl-blog]

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Abortion essays against

Ten Bible Reasons Why It Is Wrong

Prior to the Roe vs. Wade Supreme Court decision of 1973, about 500,000 illegal abortions were occurring per year. By 1975, over 1,000,000 babies were being aborted in the United States. Today, about 1,500,000 abortions occur each year. That's over 4000 per day, and nearly three per minute!

Ninety-three percent of the abortions in America are for convenience. The mother's health is an issue only three percent of the time, and the baby's health is an issue only three percent of the time. Rape or incest are issues only one percent of the time. Ninety-three percent of all abortions in America are performed just because someone doesn't want a child!

There are four basic types of abortion being performed in America today, while two more types may be added in the near future.

First, there's the suction type abortion. This is where the unborn child is literally vacuumed from the mother's womb during the early stages of pregnancy.

The currette-type abortion is where the child is cut from the mother's womb with a spoon-like object.

A third type is similar to a Caesarean operation. The baby is surgically removed from the mother and allowed to suffocate, because the child's lungs aren't developed.

The fourth type of abortion is the Salt Brine technique. With this method, the unborn child is literally "pickled" to death by the injection of a strong salt solution. A few days after the injection the child is still born.

There is currently much debate about partial-birth abortions. This is where a child is partially delivered, then stabbed in the skull to have his or her brains sucked out.

There is also much talk about the RU-486 abortion pill from France, also called "mifepristione" in America. This pill works by inhibiting pregnancy hormones, and is normally used within seven weeks from conception. At the present time, mifepristone is illegal in the U.S., but there is much political pressure to make it legal.

Abortion Is An Act of Murder

In reference to pregnant women, the term "with child" occurs twenty-six times in the Bible. The term "with fetus" never occurs once.

In Luke chapter one, verses 36 and 41, we are told that Elisabeth conceived a "son" and that the "babe" leaped in her womb. God does not say that a "fetus" leaped in her womb! He says THE BABE leaped. This is the exact same word that God uses to describe Christ in the manger AFTER He is born (Luke 2:12, 16). In God eyes, an unborn babe and a newborn babe are the same. They are both living human beings!

Dear reader, please answer a question: What is an "infant?" Get the answer in your mind and keep it there for a moment. Do you have it? Okay, please consider Job 3:16: "Or as an hidden untimely birth I had not been; as infants which never saw light." Did you see that? Job referred to unborn children as INFANTS. Not fetuses! Not masses of tissue! INFANTS! In God's eyes, an unborn child is a living human baby. God never says once that an unborn child is anything less than a human being.

David said in Psalm 51:5, "Behold, I was shapen in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me." He did not say that a fetus was shapen in iniquity and conceived in iniquity. David, speaking under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, said that HE was conceived. David, not a blob of tissue, was conceived.

The same is the case in Psalm 139:13-16:

"For thou hast possessed my reins: thou hast covered me in my mother's womb. I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well. My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them."

Who was in the womb? David! A literal and living person. The Bible never uses anything less than human terms to describe the unborn.

Notice that in Jeremiah 1:5 we are told that God KNEW Jeremiah:"Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations."

To further confirm the fact that God views the unborn child as a person, please consider Exodus 21:22-23:

"If men strive, and hurt a woman with child, so that her fruit depart from her, and yet no mischief follow: he shall be surely punished, according as the woman's husband will lay upon him; and he shall pay as the judges determine. And if any mischief follow, then thou shalt give life for life,"

If the woman has a premature birth and the child lives ("no mischief follows"), then there's no death penalty. However, if the child dies (or the woman dies) God says the death penalty applies: "thou shalt give life for life." Why would God require the death penalty if He didn't consider the unborn child to be a human being?

Friend, like it or not, God says that life begins at conception, and the unborn child is a human being.

But the Bible isn't alone in declaring this truth. Science also declares that an unborn child is just as much an independent human being as you. The original human cell consists of 46 chromosomes, 23 from each parent. At no point during pregnancy does the mother contribute any new cells to the child. The original cell divides itself and multiplies to provide development and growth for the child. Scientifically speaking, the child is just as independent at six months before birth as he will be six months after birth. Yes, the mother does provide nourishment to the unborn child, but she also provides nourishment to the newborn child!

At two weeks pregnancy, the "fetus" can move alone. By four weeks the child has limbs, muscle tissue, a heart and heartbeat. Ears, eyes, and small hands are visible by the fifth week. The child responds to touch sensations by the sixth or seventh week. At eight weeks, the baby sometimes tries to take a breath when removed from the mother. At twelve weeks, the child will often struggle for life two or three hours when removed from the mother.

Friend, abortion is wrong because abortion is MURDER!

Abortion Involves the Shedding of Innocent Blood

Proverbs 6:16-17 says that God HATES those who shed innocent blood! Deuteronomy 27:25 says, "Cursed be he that taketh reward to slay an innocent person. And all the people shall say, Amen."

Who could possibly be more innocent than an unborn baby?! Yet, our society has become so wicked that it condones the slaying of 1.5 million innocent children every year. The Bible says that God HATES people who do this.

Abortion Is A Violation of the Golden Rule

In Matthew 7:12, the Lord Jesus Christ said, "Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets."

Would it be your desire to suffer and die while someone traps you in a cage and literally tears your arms and legs from your body?

Abortion is a violation of the golden rule.

Abortion Attempts To Destroy A Work of God

"I know that, whatsoever God doeth, it shall be for ever: nothing can be put to it, nor any thing taken from it: and God doeth it, that men should fear before him." (Ecc. 3:14)

God is eternal, so His work is also eternal. Abortion is an attempt to do away with unwanted people--an attempt to make a liar out of God by bringing an end to His work. However, Jesus said you can destroy a person's BODY, but not their SOUL (Mat. 10:28). Parent, if you've had an abortion, your aborted child is in Heaven right now, because you only destroyed the body!

Abortion Often Brings Shame, Heartache, and Deep Regret

After his sin with Bathsheba, King David confessed these words to God: "For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me." (Psa. 51:3) David was living under constant conviction and regret for what he had done. He couldn't get away from it!

Most women who decide to have an abortion spend the rest of their lives regretting it. Are you thinking about an abortion? I challenge you to visit with some woman who have had abortions. Ask them if they would do it again. Ask them if they have any regrets.

In the book, The Christian and Social Issues, by Tom Wallace, a reference is made to a full page Washington Post ad, dated June 13, 1983. A lady who had undergone a saline abortion six months earlier describes the mental torments that she now suffers every day. She speaks of her ". everyday hell of never hearing a baby cry without crying within myself; counting days to see how old the baby would have been; wondering what contributions my baby would have made to our desperate society; and wondering if there will ever be another chance for motherhood."

Of the abortion itself, the lady recalls, ". sitting in a crowded waiting room studying each others fearful, anxious faces. signing death certificates for what is very much alive within you. seeing crying women given tranquilizers and sent home to recuperate and try to forget."

Abortion is wrong because it brings shame, heartache, and deep regret.

Abortion Disannuls A Plan of God

If God allows a child to be conceived, then God obviously has a plan for that child. Mary's parents didn't know that she'd give birth to the Savior of the world, but she did. God has a plan for unborn children (Jer. 1:5; Lk. 1:13-17; Gen. 4:25; Jud. 13:3-5), so to abort an unborn child is to stop a plan of God.

Abortion De-values Human Life

God created man to be the highest form of life on earth (Gen. 1:26-28). Human life is very precious to God. In fact, it is so precious that God Himself instituted the Death Penalty for anyone who takes the life of another (Exo. 21:12; Num. 35). God places great value on human life!

However, abortion promotes the message that life is NOT so valuable, and that man can do as he pleases with it. How long will it be before our nation decides that the killing of elderly people and sick people is justifiable? Why stop there? How long will it be before it becomes lawful to kill Bible believers who refuse to conform to the world system? It won't be as long as you may think (Rev. 13:16-18; Rev. 20:4). Abortion devalues human life, and it pushes our nation a step closer to that wicked day when it becomes lawful to murder innocent people.

Abortion Shows A Lack of Natural Affection

Paul tells us in 2 Timothy 3:3 that the last days will be characterized by people who lack "natural affection."

I believe the pro-abortion movement is a perfect example of this. It is NATURAL to conceive a child, grow to love that child, take care of the child during pregnancy, give birth to the child, and then raise the child with the best care possible. That's the natural process that God has ordained. It is NOT natural to kill the child! To commit such an act is to show a lack of natural affection, which is sin.

Abortion Encourages Sin

"Because sentence against an evil work is not executed speedily, therefore the heart of the sons of men is fully set in them to do evil." (Ecc. 8:11)

Why will 1,500,000 women have abortions this year? Largely because it has become popular. It is no longer illegal, and it is no longer considered a shameful sin by our society. Every time a woman has an abortion she helps society to become more comfortable with it. She's advertising it! By her example, she's encouraging others to commit the same sin, and other sins as well. The convenience of abortion will only lead to an increase of other sins such as adultery and fornication. Friend, abortion is wrong because abortion encourages sin!

Abortion Shows A Lack of Faith

Romans 14:23 says, ". for whatsoever is not of faith is sin." Hebrews 11:6 tells us that without faith it is IMPOSSIBLE to please God.

To have an abortion is to take matters into your own hands, rather than to trust God to work things out. This shows a lack of faith in God, which the Bible labels as SIN.

A desperate woman says, "I can't afford to have a child. I'm not ready for this." Lady, you need to start trusting God and claiming His promises. You need to STOP trying to run your own life for a change and START trusting God. You don't need an abortion, for such will only INCREASE your troubles. The devil has you thinking that abortion is the answer, that it will take care of everything, and you're very close to giving in to his subtle temptation. If you do, you'll regret it forever, and God will hold you accountable! Why not turn your life over to the Lord Jesus Christ right now? Why not make Him the Lord of your life and trust Him to work things out for you?

You Can Be Saved Right Now!

Jesus Christ came into this world to lay down His sinless life for YOU--to pay for your sins, because you couldn't. Jesus is your only hope for salvation. Only by receiving Him as your Savior can you enter the gates of Heaven. There is no other way.

"Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father but by me." (John 14:6)

"Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved." (Acts 4:12)

The Lord Jesus Christ has come and PAID for your sins by shedding His own Blood on Calvary. By receiving Him as your Savior, you can be WASHED from all your sins in His precious Blood (Rev. 1:5; Col. 1:14; Acts 20:28; I Pet. 1:18-19). Notice these important words from Romans 5:8-9:

"But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Much more then, being now justified by his blood, we shall be saved from wrath through him."

Jesus PAID your way to Heaven for you! By receiving Him as your Savior, you will be receiving God's ONLY means of Salvation for you. Are you willing to forsake YOUR righteousness and receive Jesus Christ as your Savior, your ONLY HOPE for Salvation? Romans 10:13 says, "Whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved." Romans 10:9 says, "That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved." Are you willing to forsake your own righteousness, and trust Jesus Christ alone? He will save you just as He promised. Why not receive https://www.the-essays.com/buy-essay-paper and trust Him to give you a better way of life?