#it pings that tragedy button

[goobtacular]

I'm with you to the end of the line is too sweet. I don't care if Steve and Bucky are gay for each other. I hope it's platonic, but I don't really care. Just the sentiment: I don't care what you've done, how you've changed. I don't care who you've become; I said I'm with you until the end of the line, and I meant it. I can't really know until it happens, but I hope I can look my killer in the eyes and tell them to do it. Because if this is the end of the line, so be it, but I got there with you

[blu3cl0v3rs]

Summary: Jay introduces Morro to video games

Warnings: Swearing, white jokes (Jay gets called a pasty dough boy)

Prompt: Day 10 - "Welcome to the future."

Extra: Storm siblings(ish) content from me?? More likely than you'd think. Kinda surprised it took me 10 days to make a oneshot about them. Set in a generic "Revived Morro living w/ Ninja" AU between seasons 12 and 13.

Jay put some weirdly shaped plastic remote into my grasp, and held a duplicate in his own hands. It had two weird mushroom-y shaped things he called "thumbsticks" and an assortment of buttons of varying shapes and sizes. There were two ridges that aligned with where I'm pretty sure my hands should be. I assumed it was correct, as it's the same way Jay's holding it.

"...and what makes these things so great?" I ask boredly, tempted to toss the thing just to scare the brunette.

Speaking of him, Jay dramatically held his chest as if I'd stabbed him.

"Do not worry, Brother of Wind, I will show you the way of gaming," Jay spoke like he was in one of those weird romantic tragedies he loved to watch with the Wat- Nya, his hand stretched towards me.

I pursed my lips and shifted his hand away, "Whatever you say."

The freckled man then launched headfirst into a long winded explanation of the importance and history of gaming, most of which went right over my head. The only video games around before I died I never played because they seemed so trivial. I mean, why would you play a digitized version of ping pong? It felt pointless. Plus, Wu was all stingy about technology usage.

"-and did I tell you about how I totally saved the world one time from a video game progra- hey, are you listening?" Jay waved his hand in front of my face.

"I don't think he needed a run down on your video gaming journey, Jay," Cole called from his spot on a beanbag. The other Ninja were similarly splayed over another beanbag, the couch, or the floor as Jay and I sat on cushions in front of the most pixelated TV I've seen in my entire existence.

Today was their "Game Night", and when I had made the foolish mistake to ask what a video game was, well I ended up here.

"Yeah, Jay, I'm pretty sure all you gotta do is explain the buttons and the objective of the game and he's all set," Kai said absentmindedly as he peered over Lloyd's shoulder to watch him play something called Minecraft. Something about a revolution and "enjoying hobbies again". I didn't really want to know.

"I know that, Kai. Anyways, Morro," my head flicked towards him and he held up the controller to my view, then he proceeded to explain the buttons. I mimicked his finger positions on the remote in my hands to memorize it.

"Alright, so since you're just starting out on your gaming journey, we should start with-"

"Just start him on Minecraft," Lloyd shouted, before aggressively clicking a button.

"Yeah, get that creeper!" Kai cheered. What the fuck is a creeper?

Jay seemed to momentarily pout, before just agreeing with the blonde. He loaded up the game and created what he called the "only real way to play Minecraft", which was apparently a normal level Survival world. Whatever that meant.

As Lloyd argued with Jay about how "playing in Creative mode was superior", I messed around to see what was so interesting about this game.

I had… uhh, what did they call it- oh, "spawned" in a forest that resembled a very blocky birch forest. For some reason, you have to destroy the leaves in order to move past them, which didn't exactly make sense. I eventually got bored of wandering, and just started hitting stuff. I discovered when you hit the trees long enough it would give you a piece of the tree. Weird thing was that the tree floated instead of falling over like it would in the real world. At first I thought the game wasn't working properly, but after doing it to like five trees I realized.

My bar on the right was getting low. It looked kind of like a bunch of chicken legs. Did that mean my character was getting hungry? I think I saw an animal earlier, maybe I could kill it and get food? I wandered a bit until I found some pink moving thing that somewhat resembled a pig.

"Hey Morro, you're low on your hunger bar, go kill that pig," Zane helpfully pointed out.

I nodded, and swatted the pig. I guess I should've expected it to run, as it dashed away. I clunkily followed, attempting to hit it as I chased it.

My attempts were not very successful, but my meager hits were enough to barely kill it.

I shifted my, uhh, hotbar – that's what it was called – over to the pork I had collected.

"Wa-wa-wait! Hold on!" Jay yelled. "Have you been playing this entire time?!" He looked shocked.

"Why no, the game's been possessed and is moving on its own free will- yeah, I was playing," I deadpanned the freckled brunette.

"That is not what you should be focused on, Jay, HE WAS ABOUT TO EAT RAW PORK!" Cole shouted offendedly.

Everyone craned to look at me. I simply shrugged, "I just started."

"Well, you have some wood, so click the yellow 'Y' button to open your inventory and whatnot," Kai said.

"It's not yellow, it's orange," Jay argued.

"Doesn't matter, it's the 'Y' button regardless," Cole butted in before he shoved some chips in his mouth.

"Shut up Cole, you're colorblind," Jay growled.

"And suddenly my colorblind opinions don't count, all because a white man said so-"

"I'M HALF FILIPINO!"

"Don't worry, Jay, you'll always be our pasty dough boy," Nya chuckled as she stroked his curls.

"I'm being bullied for my race," Jay complained.

"If none of you explain what I'm supposed to do I will just eat this raw," I state as I got bored studying the new screen that appeared.

"See the four darker gray boxes in the upper right corner? Put the logs you got into there. You'll get planks on the other side of the arrow; click on those until you can't get anymore."

P.I.X.A.L. instructed me through making a "crafting table" and using it to make a pickaxe. Zane then took over explaining how to mine and craft a furnace, then they all dramatically celebrated as I made and ate my first piece of pork, Kai even whipped out his phone to record that moment.

This felt ridiculous. But fun. Ridiculous, but fun. Until-

BANG!

"Ninjas.go was blown up by Creeper

Score: 53"

"What… the fuck was that." I glared at the red tinted screen.

"That was a creeper. They're these weird green four legged things that explode when you get two close," Lloyd replied.

"Are they real?"

"Nope, just in the wonderful game that is Minecraft. Along with Enderman and Golems and the like."

"Welcome to the future," Jay joked.

[spittyfishy]

*deep breath* i'm gonna do it. i'm gonna ask

remnant kokichi

I think Kokichi would have had to have been one of the first to fall, he’s very smart and very clever, and could have been a Huge thorn in Junko’s side if she didn’t take care of him quickly. (For anyone interested, I think this is the order the class fell to despair, based off who was needed for people later on: Tsumugi, Kaito, Kokichi, Miu, Maki, Tenko, Angie, Kiibo, Suichi, Ryoma, Himiko, Gonta, Kirumi, Korekiyo, Kaede)

One of the first things Junko has him do is kill the ten members of his organization. They’re his closest friends, practically family! The despair he’d get from their deaths would be astronomical! (Speaking of lol, I forgot to mention it in his own post, but Kaito absolutely killed his grandparents when he fell to despair). I think both of those events happened before the tragedy while everyone was still in school. There’d have been investigations of course, but why would anyone think Kaito or Kokichi would do something like that to their own loved ones?? Plus between Tsumugi, Junko, Mukuro, and Miu they’d be able to come up with fake alibi’s to eliminate themselves from the suspect lists.

(Tbh I could totally see probably Kaito asking Suichi to take on the case and help avenge his grandparents and help him get closure, only to finally discover the truth of the case and that Kaito was the culprit as a way to trigger Suichi into despair himself! Junko helping of course but that being the inciting incident would be Awesome lol)

Kokichi and Kaito both being some of the first to turn also kinda lends itself to the dynamic I mentioned in Kaitos post. Those two are constantly annoying each other and are in a very destructive prank war lol. Pre despair it would mostly have been just Kokichi being a little shit like he is to Kaito in game, but once despair is added to the mix things start to ramp up. The rest of the class would be a little concerned at how much meaner they seemed to become towards each other, insults that cut the other down to the bone, tripped down the stairs or shoved a bit too hard to be friendly, upping the anti with more and more extreme pranks. But both of them would just laugh all that stuff off afterwards, so surely nothing must actually be wrong- right?

(They were in fact not right.)

As a full fledged remnant post tragedy, Kokichi runs a huge organization, just like he always lied about. Corrupted and rebuilt DICE from the ground up with much more sinister goals, those being as much global despair as possible!! Kokichi is one of the most influential remnants, right up there with Kirumi, Ryoma, and Angie for pure follower count. They’re agents of chaos, and a constant bother for the Future Foundation.

This mostly became about Kaito more than Kokichi lol, whoops! Kokichi’s ping ponging between emotions is likely to mirror Junko herself, and practically every word from his lips is a lie. He’d be an absolute nightmare to try and interrogate lol.

For his design I went with a court jester motif, due to his chaotic nature and as a way to sort of catch his enemies off guard, because surely this clown couldn’t be the one in charge! The yellow and red were colour picked from the buttons on Kokichi’s cannon outfit, and the checkered cape is of course to match his regular scarf.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Digital Heart

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Angst Warnings: Falling, fighting, minor injuries, nausea, breathlessness 

In which Genshin is an interactive RPG accessed through an immersive headset, and you find yourself pushed to play it by your friends.

~ * ~

It started with a game.

For thirty days and thirty nights, your friends have been pleading for you to play it. Genshin Impact it was called, an free immersive open-world RPG with hundreds of weapons, characters, and power ups. Accessible through a specialized headset that tracked movement, it had only been a month since the freely downloadable game’s release and it was already a success, garnering praise from the customizable main character and the interactive playstyle. Play it. Your friends beg. You’ll love it. We can play together. 

You refuse at first. The game might be free, but the headset isn’t, and you need to save that money to pay for food and clothes. Alongside your financial state was your schedule, a long list of work and chores that left little time to play games with constant updates like Genshin, so you told your friends- politely, as that’s how you were raised- that it’d have to wait. They agreed, quietly.

Then the next day, they ask again. You make an excuse- too much work. They agree, again.

The second day, asking. You’re too tired, you say. Of course, they respond.

Everyday, the same question. The same request, the same demand. It wears on you, amused exasperation drawing a sigh from you everytime you open your notifications.

Play it.

You can’t.

Play it.

You don’t have time.

Play it.

You need to focus!

Play it.

…

…Alright.

Finally, you cave. You create an account, a headset en route to your house. You clear an area in your house so you don’t accidentally hit anything. The headset arrives, and you insert the batteries, said to last up to an entire day playing nonstop, a stage you dearly hope you never reach. You pull it down over your head, cringing at the thought of your hair getting so mussed, and switch it on. A long and potentially worrying warning flashes before your eyes and you blink, not used to the in-depth cameras yet, as the screen goes white.

Welcome to Genshin Impact! Please name your character… appears, and you subsequently slip down the rabbit hole.

It’s fun, you find. Your friends were right, you did like Genshin Impact, although you thank your lucky stars that you weren’t as attached as some players were, as you still had work and life to attend to. The combat and story were enjoyable, and the characters were funny and diverse in personality and playstyles. The main character, who was also your customizable avatar, was quite literally you, the story explained, a traveler from distant lands who fell face first into Teyvat by mistake and tragedy. Of course you still haven’t gotten entirely used to the whole immersion thing, and sometimes shuddered under the eerily real programming of the NPCs and characters, but that was nigh unnoticeable when focusing on fighting monsters. Your deep love for exploration and discovery surfaces, and you take as long as you want exploring every inch of the wonderfully modelled map as you follow the main story, or “Archon Quests”. You calm the great dragon Dvalin and bid your friends at Mondstadt- Kaeya, Amber, Lisa, Diluc, Jean, and Venti- goodbye, Liyue sprawling out before you in wooded forests and cloud-covered mountains. A mysterious man runs across you at the Inn, the immortal Adeptus Xiao, although you would’ve thought he was quite young due to his short stature, and you encounter Zhongli in the Harbor, along with Lady Ningguang and her subordinates, Keqing and Ganyu. A member of the malicious-seeming Fatui also greets you and introduces himself as Childe, a name you don’t trust for a second, yet find yourself getting strangely attached too. The story progresses with you at Zhongli and Ningguang’s sides, the suspicion being pointed more and more to the Fatui, and you find yourself staring up at the elegant pillars of the Golden House, the mora mint building.

You gulp. You know this is where Childe’s boss battle takes place, and you’re not sure if your team is prepared, even if you stocked up on food right before leaving the Harbor. Inhaling a deep breath, you shove the enormous front doors open, and a cutscene pulls your fear tight against your throat. Everyone’s suspicions were right- he was here to steal the Geo Archon’s gnosis, and you have to stop him. 

Easier said than done. The cutscene of your face shows a determined, fierce expression, instead of the nervous one you had in real life, and you almost laugh. You dearly hope your characters are strong enough, and step into the arena.

Phases One and Two are relatively short, as you quickly learn to avoid using Childe’s respective elements of his Vision and Delusion while his shield is up. The battle is fun and fast-paced, and you feel a thrill in your bones as you dodge another attack before swinging your sword in retaliation. Childe stumbles, and Phase Two ends with a cutscene. The corpse of Rex Lapis, something you considered a bit gruesome, is discovered to have no gnosis, and you can feel the raw anger in the Harbinger’s voice as the air crackles and hisses. A horrible, blinding light shines, and Childe is gone.

At least, human Childe is gone. In his place floats a monstrous version of himself, nearly 14 feet tall and complete with horns and armor, and your mouth drops open slightly as you gaze at him wide eyed. But your focus is violently shifted when the floor cracks and turns to dust, sending you tumbling down into the belly of the Golden House. You land with an unceremonial thump, thankful that the creators hadn’t been cruel enough to make you feel the damage you took in-game.

And Phase Three, the final phase of Harbinger Tartaglia, commences.

He has considerably more health, and his attacks can range from irritating to deadly, you just barely dodging the falling Hydro arrows that would’ve slaughtered your current character. Of course, it doesn’t help that you’re sneaking glances at your attacker every few minutes. Your mind wanders to the lore as you shield yourself from violet lightning. Does this transformation hurt? Where does it come from? Why does it look like a moth? Maybe one day you’ll get answers. 

Despite the raised difficulty, Phase Three also ends rather quickly. Your characters, it seems, were overleveled. The remainder of the Archon Quest passes, Childe reappearing once at the end, and it’s over. The screen blips off as you log out and place the headset on a table before laying on your bed and using the last few hours before bed to contemplate what you’ve just seen.

The next days quickly fall into routine. After completing all your work, you’d take an hour or two to play Genshin, leveling up your characters even more and going through various quests, Childe’s included. You see his transformation, dubbed the Foul Legacy form, again, and almost swoon before stopping and giving yourself a harsh scolding. You fulfill requests and tasks for various people around Teyvat, or at least the parts of Teyvat you can access, and improve your skills and stats. You have a talent for dodging, you find, and use it to your advantage while fighting.

And every Monday, when the clock resets, you re-enter Golden House to battle with Childe and claim your just rewards.

Of course you could do it everyday, but a squirming, guilty feeling in your gut stops you, making you feel like you’re hurting him, no matter how many times you try to tell yourself that he’s simply a video game character, a program in an electronic system.

This thought makes you a bit sad, you think.

The fights are getting easier, something you credit to your rising stars of characters, and you stand before the Ley Line Blossom quicker and quicker each time, something you expect to be no different today.

Phases One and Two are just the same as you take advantage of Vaporize and Overload, drowning out Childe’s pre-programmed sounds of pain with your own abilities. The battle pauses, and you’re transported to the same chamber underground, with its fiery walls and glittering arches, as the fight resumes. With the same attacks and characters, it’s becoming a tad dull, and you frown, wondering if you should try to get another character soon.

You’re lost in your thoughts when you slip and fall.

This you feel in the real world, having landed hard on your back and knocked the air out of your lungs. For a few moments you struggle to breathe, and Childe takes the opportunity to appear right over you, his spear flashing purple. You swear internally, bracing yourself as he readies his weapon.

But the strike never comes. You inhale desperately, oxygen finally flowing into your chest, and open your eyes. The graphics of your game are gray and fuzzy around the edges, framing Childe as he slowly puts his spear down and, to your amazement and slight terror, jerkily reaches towards you. Voice clips play overhead, pieced together to make not words, but a static-interspersed whining sound, much like a concerned beast. Your eyes widen, and Childe stops, withdrawing slightly almost as if he’s worried that you’re afraid, and you whisper his name once, as a tentative question.

Then with crackle and a ping, your game crashes and everything goes black.

You gasp and rip off the headset, chest heaving as you struggle to comprehend what just happened. You’re shaking, nervous and fearful, but curiosity runs strong through your veins. Your finger slides towards the On button, and you press it and slip the device back on.

You’re standing outside, the doors of the Golden House closed as if the battle never happened. The guards surrounding it look ordinary, occasionally repeating phrases you’ve heard and ignored countless times. Glancing around and trying to squash the nauseous bubbling feeling in your gut, you push the doors open again.

It’s different this time. Instead of being in the upper room, you fall a short distance into the Third Phase Chamber, your shoes clicking on the tiled floor. Childe floats in the center, his back to you, and you take a tentative step forward. He turns and looks you dead in the eyes, before flinging his spear to the side and rushing towards you on his feet, kneeling to your height. Instinctively, you jump away as he sits on the ground before you, letting out joyful chirps and trills, sounds you didn’t even know he could make. You approach him, sword held loosely in your hand as an extra precaution, and he tilts his head and coos as you cautiously sit with him. Your hands are trembling as you try to understand that this is real, he is real, all of this is happening.

And if it’s not, then it’s some damn good programming.

Questions start to fill your mind, one after another, and you ask him, responses coming as a nod or a headshake.

Is this real?

Yes.

Or programming?

No.

Could you always do this?

No.

Just today?

No.

Over a period of time. Yes.

How…?

The final question hangs in the air, and he shrugs slightly, then points at you. You did this. You woke him up, made him feel pain, sorrow, and happiness, all stemming from you, his love for you. From the minute the Archon Quests let you meet, he was vaguely curious, the most emotion he’s ever felt in his cold, empty programming since before. And when the code broke, he adored you, not like Childe viciously adored battle, but a soft adoration, one with all his digital heart could muster. You smile, and he purrs at what a wonderful smile it is.

Something flickers in the corner of your eye. Then another. And another. You turn and squint, then gasp as your surroundings begin to dissolve into colorful squares, the game taunting you as it glitches and lags. You and Childe leap to your feet, only to watch helplessly as the world crumbles away. You look down at your hands and see them beginning to break apart into pixels. Childe reaches out to hug you, to hold you close, but his hand passes right through you, a sickening reminder of how unreal he is. He wails in anguish as you both try to grasp each other, only to shatter more, the pixels covering your screen like rain on a windowpane.

Your game crashes for a second time, the only sound a desperate whimper that soon fades into an electronic squealing.

It takes a week to fix your device, the tech people saying that it was “overloaded”. Finally the repairs are finished, and you’re back at the Golden House, the doors already ajar. You slip into the room, expecting either a battle or, hopefully, someone to greet you.

But the room is empty. No one, human nor monster, stands in the center. Instead there is one lonely Ley Line Blossom, waiting, the final gift from an impossible love. 

[hunxi-after-hours]

*frantically tries to recall what ask I wanted to give you* yeah! LBH done, SQH done and SQQ (uff if you could scream about him more I would so appreciate it but no pressure 😌 plus I'm trying not to sidetrack you here) done, what are your thoughts on Liu Qingge as a separate character as well as LiuShen?

oh you're asking me about (checks notes) my favorite character in the entirety of SVSSS? sure, I might be able to scrounge up some thoughts on him

turns out, the reason why I love Liu Qingge is for the exact same reasons why Shen Qingqiu loves Liu Qingge, which is handily summarized in this line from chapter 43:

太可靠了柳���巨！/ You're the most reliable, Liu-juju!

which is, incidentally, located smack in the middle of one of my favorite Liu Qingge scenes:

沈清秋脚底一点，飞身上瓦，稳稳立在飞檐之上，深吸一口气，丹田发声：“柳——清——歌！” / Shen Qingqiu leapt onto the rooftiles, landing solidly on the eaves. He took a deep breath and yelled all the way from his dantian: "Liu! Qing! Ge!"

有人御剑而起，怒斥道：“沈清秋，你好歹毒的心，故意逃到此地，把诸派的人手都引过来，为的就是勾结魔族、在这里一网打尽，重演仙盟大会当初的惨剧？” / A person arose, aloft on his sword, and yelled angrily: "Shen Qingqiu, your heart is vicious and venomous. You fled here on purpose, leading the cultivators of many sects here in order to connive with demons and reenact the tragedy of the Divine Alliance Conference, didn't you?"

反正现在就是什么帽子往他头上扣都不嫌多对吧？！沈清秋定睛一瞧，这不是刚才被他支使去撕衣服的那个什么……霸气宗的头头吗？正想跟他沟通一下，东边传来剑气锐啸，一人白衣御剑，风驰电掣而至。气势太过凌厉，无端带起一阵罡风，直把这人从自己剑上掀了下去。/ Oh, so piling any kind of slander on Shen Qingqiu's head was reasonable now, was it? Shen Qingqiu focused on that person... wasn't this the head of Baqi Zong that he made tear off the clothes of that other person? Just as Shen Qingqiu was about communicate with him, sharp sword-energy came screaming in from the east. A person in white came flying in on a sword, swift as wind and quick as lightning. His momentum was too ferocious, kicking up a strong wind, and straight-up knocked the other person off his sword.

柳清歌稳稳踏在乘鸾剑上，道：“何事？” / Liu Qingge stood firmly on Chengluan-jian and said: "What?"

太可靠了柳巨巨！/ You're the most reliable, Liu-juju!

沈清秋诚恳道：“带我飞。” / Shen Qingqiu said, sincerely: "Take me flying."

柳清歌：“……” / Liu Qingge: "......"

沈清秋道：“我毒性又发作了，提不���气御剑。勉强御剑，只有从高空栽下来。” / Shen Qingqiu said: "The poison's acting up again, so I can't fly. If I try, I'll fall."

柳清歌叹了口气，道：“上来。/ Liu Qingge sighed, then said: "Come up."

so it turns out Liu Qingge actually hits a lot of the same "favorite character" buttons that Zhen Ping and Lie Zhanying from LYB hit — reliable, capable, well-versed in ass-kicking, ride-or-die for the protagonists. the fact that he's canonically stupidly good-looking (never forget that Shen Qingqiu lost his mind about this for four paragraphs when we first meet Liu Qingge) and also has the personality of a wet cat is just icing on the cake

there is a simplicity to Liu Qingge's motivations and character that just feels reassuring in the mad dash of SVSSS — no matter what absolute madness or utter chaos is happening on Shen Qingqiu or Luo Binghe's side of things, you can always, always count on Liu Qingge to have Shen Qingqiu's back and bail him out of a dangerous moment. 他爱恨分明, has a refreshingly clear-eyed view on his people and his priorities and the lengths he's willing to go to in order to protect them. and really, once you've figured out that he has the personality of a wet cat (bringing home dead prey and everything), it becomes pretty easy to decipher his standoffishness and brusqueness to find the depths of genuine care behind the gruff manner

this isn't to say that Liu Qingge is dumb, or boring; on the contrary, in a book full of people who overthink and overcomplicate things, throw tantrums and wallow in self-destructive guilt and deploy the silent treatment and attempt to end the world on account of a truly toxic combination of self-esteem issues and overpowerment, Liu Qingge is somehow the sanest of them all, System help them

also, Liu Qingge is the manifestation of one of my greatest fantasies: the ability to whack my problems really hard with a sword until they go away

as for liushen, I think Liu Qingge's simplicity/straightforwardness carries into this ship dynamic as well, which makes it so appealing. I mean, out of Shen Qingqiu's primary ships (so... bingqiu, liushen, and... qijiu? tbh not sure what the primary ships are), the relationship between Liu Qingge and (SY!)Shen Qingqiu is the most clear-cut and least burdened by their history: Shen Qingqiu saves Liu Qingge's life. Liu Qingge saves Shen Qingqiu's. they keep trading these favors (and teasing, and toothless insults, and flirtations) until at some point one of them falls in love with the other. liushen is the most straightforward and least fraught of all the Shen Qingqiu ship dynamics precisely because it neatly sidesteps the complicated tangles of power and trauma present in bingqiu and qijiu. Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge are the closest to being, well, equals in terms of rank and age and skill, without the mess of traumatic backstory clouding the waters between them

[liaromancewriter]

Falling Into Dust: The Aftermath (part 1/3)

Series Premise: After surviving a deadly poison attack, Cassie struggles with guilt for her part in the tragedy and tries to find her way back to the person she was.

Part 1: Following the funeral, Cassie goes on a road trip with her brother to escape Boston and the guilt she holds.

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine); featuring Max Valentine (OC)

Rating: Teen

Category: Angst.

Trope: And there was a Traumatic Event

Words: 1,170

A/N: This is a story that I've been wanting to write for at least three months, but I kept putting it off as the topic is so emotionally raw. But I haven't stopped thinking about it, so it meant it had to be done. I promise a happy ending by the end, but the journey will be rough. It's set in my version of OPH: Second Year where Ethan and Cassie are already in a discrete relationship prior to the attack.

The bird was back, its blue plumage bright against the fall sky outside her bedroom window.

Cassie Valentine watched her inconstant neighbor from her perch on the armchair propped against the windowsill. Dressed for warmth in a thick coat, boots, dark jeans and black turtleneck, she was still as the clock ticked in the distance.

It was early, just shy of seven a.m. Her brother, Max, wasn’t coming to pick her up until ten. If she had been who she was before, the extra hours in bed would have been welcome and savored.

The person she had become in the aftermath spent sleepless nights, tossing and turning until she thought the covers would suffocate her.

She was afraid to close her eyes. Afraid that she’d wake to find herself back in the hospital room with its plastic walls, astringent antiseptic smells, and perpetual sense of dread.

She would see her friends at the window, their eyes trying to hide the fact that she was doomed. Ethan, her mentor, her lover, her inevitable, would put up a brave front but he had never had a good poker face.

“I’m a doctor, not an actor,” he’d told her once with a wince.

As far as Cassie was concerned, that room was cursed. Two innocent people would never live to see dawn. All because of her.

When her phone pinged, she glanced down at the message that appeared on the lock screen before pressing the button to wipe it clear. She squeezed her eyes closed to hold in the tears she wasn’t ready to shed.

Enough, she thought. Enough!

A couple of hours later she said goodbye to her roommate, Sienna, who was grieving too and taking a few days to visit her family.

Then she checked to make sure she had everything she needed. She always kept clothes and toiletries at her grandparent’s estate in Newport, but those sufficed for a quick weekend.

This time around, she wasn’t sure when she was coming back. If she was coming back.

The knock on her door shook her out of her reverie before she walked, face carefully schooled, to answer. She dropped her mask as soon as she saw her twin brother, Max, on the other side. She never had to put on a facade with him.

Good, bad or ugly, there was no one else in this world she could be herself with completely than with her brother. It wasn’t just that they were twins, although that was a huge factor, it’s that they were best friends, partners in crime; it was always them against the world.

He squeezed her hand in comfort, no words needed to be said. He looked over her shoulder at the luggage stacked in front of the bed.

“It’s a good thing I rented an SUV and not the roadster,” he grinned. “You never did learn the fine art of packing light.”

When she just shook her head and started for the door, he asked,  “Not saying goodbye to Sienna?”

“She left for the airport already,” said Cassie, reading the new message on her phone before tucking it away in her purse.

“Here,” said Max, handing her the keys. “Go settle in the car. It’s the black Cayenne out front. I’ll bring your stuff down.”

By the time they left Boston city limits, she and Max had fallen back on old habits.

“No jazz or blues!” she protested, swiping the screen on the dash to find another channel on satellite radio. There were literally hundreds of options to choose from.

“Plebian,” he complained, trying to push her hand away but failing because she’d always been sneaky.

“Today’s top 40 or songs from this millennium,” she said, giving him a beady eye. “Those are your two options.”

“Fine,” he griped. “Millennium.”

When Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day came on, the twins glanced over at each other and then they were laughing.

“Remember when Jack was drunk and got up on stage to perform this song only to garble the lyrics so badly that it wasn’t clear what he was singing?” asked Max, laughter in his voice.

“I remember the patrons of that bar booing so loud that I thought there was going to be a riot if he didn’t shut up,” howled Cassie, clutching her belly at the memories of her college boyfriend, drunk and baffled when he was greeted by jeers instead of cheers.

“Did he ever remember that night?”

“Maybe in his nightmares,” said Cassie, wiping tears from the corner of her eyes.

“I swear, Jackson McAllister was the most clueless person in the world when it came to recognizing how bad he was at any type of performing. Bless his heart,” she added remembering Jack’s southern roots.

“Hey, look,” said Max pointing at the sign up ahead.

“Friendly’s!” exclaimed Cassie. “I thought they all closed down.”

“I guess they still have some holdouts,” said Max, checking the side mirrors before signaling a lane change. “Ice cream?”

“Like you have to ask,” said Cassie, smiling at the memories of visiting the once ubiquitous chain when she and Max were children.

They placed their order and grabbed one of the tables in the picnic area near the parking lot. Despite the chill in the air, it was nice to be out under the sunny skies.

The siblings reminisced as they finished their dessert before getting back on the road. Cassie checked her phone’s lock screen before placing the device screen down on her lap.

“You know it’s okay to text Ethan,” said Max, noticing her movement. “I’m sure he’s wondering how the drive is going.”

“He’s busy at the hospital,” said Cassie, looking away. “The team’s down to three right now.”

“We’re only an hour out, so you can call him after,” said Max after a few minutes of silence.

Cassie perked up at the next song, giving her brother a wide-eyed, sideways look.

“No!” he objected at her look.

“Come on. It’s Miley and there’s a party in the USA,” she pleaded. “We have to!”

“Didn’t we get enough of this shit at that stupid frat party at GW in our sophomore year?”

“But, Max,” whined Cassie. “Songs like this are meant for carpool karaoke and for dancing.”

“That was you and Eva,” he complained. “The two of you just had to show off for those frat boys and then they wouldn’t leave us alone all week.”

“Fun times,” she said with a smile, “especially when you and Jack tp’d their house.”

“They deserved it,” nodded Max. “Their hazing went too far.”

By the time, the car passed through security gate and up the drive to the big house, she had convinced Max to participate in at least two sing-alongs and swapped countless memories that she shared only with him.

The road trip had been a good reminder of the person she had been then, and the carefree life she’d once lived. Maybe here, the home of her heart, she could begin to find herself again.

Perma-tags: @jamespotterthefirst @starryeyedrookie @genevievemd @forallthatitsworth @queencarb @ohchoices @openheartfan @danijimenezv @potionsprefect @quixoticdreamer16 @schnitzelbutterfingers @mainstreetreader @tsrookie @bex-la-get @chaoticchopshopheart @headoverheelsforramsey @thegreentwin @dorisz @custaroonie @pixelnutrookie @adiehardfan @takemyopenheart @dickgraysonsscrumptiousbooty @jerzwriter @choiceskatie @mm2305 @a-crepusculo @barbean @beastlyinstrument @electroniccreatorwerewolf @rosebudde @lucy-268 @crazy-loca-blog @writer-ish @pixelberrygirl @wanderingamongthewildflowers @trappedinfanfiction @rookiemartin @drakewalkerfantasy

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[drethanramslay]

Voicemails (part 1)

Pairing: Ethan x mc

Word count: 5.5 K words (damn that's the most I have written

Masterlist

Warning: ANGST

Taglist: @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @openheart12 @sekizincimektup @junggoku @ethandaddyramsey @edith-eggs1 @ethanramseysgirl @samihatuli @loveellamae @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @zeniamiii @binny1985 @an-urban-witch-ig @ramseyegerton @noboundariesplease @mrsdr-ethan-ramsey @newcolonies @theodorepjames4 @unluckygs @choices-love-affair @kaavyaethanramsey  @caseyvalentineramsey @ohramsey @virtualrain202 @squishywizardhq  @junehiratas @lilyvalentine @nooruleman @itsgoingnuts @cordonianbleu @agent-breakdance @jamespotterthefirst @choicesfanaf @temptress-of-death-and-desire @ac27dj @rookiefromedenbrook @gaiusimp @theeccentricbibliophile @oofchoices @hatescapsicum @sanchita012 @edgiestwinter (if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know ☺️)

Author's note: Well I know I said I was going on semi hiatus but, my studies are going great so I decided to post 🤪 also, shout out to @kittykatchoices for helping me in bouncing ideas( she is amazing)

also I went full out and posted screenshots and dividers sike

Songs: Callin by Alec Bailey is my main muse but I made a playlist too

Forgive me if there are any errors

Day 1

Ethan was jolted awake from his slumber as the flight touched down. It continued to speed down the runaway when it eventually reduced to a slow crawl and he saw the glass facade of the airport, glinting in the afternoon sun.

AEROPORTO INTERNACIONAL DE MANAUS EDUARDO GOMES. The banner read and Ethan let the reality sink in that he actually was in the state of Amazonas, South America.

"Welcome to Manaus International Airport. The weather here is partly sunny with 98% chance of precipitation. The temperature is..."

Ethan zoned out. His back was killing him and the need to stretch was becoming unbearable. Even though the WHO team of doctors had settled in comfortably in the plush seats of the private jet, it was a very boring flight.

There is a certain restrictions to the number of boring and wasteful romantic comedies you could watch in a 40 hour flight.

They did have 2 stops for refueling but they weren't allowed to step out of the plane.

God I want to go on a run so bad. He thought mentally as he massaged his spasming neck.

The doctors kicked back and relaxed, ocassionally discussing the cholera epidemic break out in Tefé, a small city on the riverside. It was very productive and they did manage to make a dent in the treatment plan but, when everybody was asleep and it was just him and his thoughts.

And his thoughts mostly revolved around the reason why he volunteered to join these prestigious doctors to battle the epidemic.

It wasn't out of selflessness, or the need to save humanity or for some mindless award.

It was an opportunity.

An opportunity to run from the girl who has invaded his head and heart, and resided there. 

Leah.

You are doing this for her own good. You are doing this for her professional development. You are doing this for her success. Feelings are fleeting, they will fade away. Ethan repeated those sentences like mantra, trying to ingrain it in his mind that he was doing the right thing leaving her behind.

No call, no text. A clean break.

But no matter how much you lie to your brain, you can't lie to your heart.

Ethan you know you are running away from her because she confessed that she loved you, stop lying to yourself. The snarky inside voice spoke up.

But, if he paid attention to it closely, it sounded just like Leah, calling him out in his bullshit.

He shook his head, trying to erase all the thoughts in his head as the aero-bridge connected to the door and they were opened. Standing up, he stretched his sore muscles and took out his duffle bag.

When he reached the exit, the air hostess with a face caked with makeup, gave him a polite smile. "Hope you had a pleasant flight doctor."

Pleasant my ass...

As he walked through the corridors towards the baggage claim area, he switched on his phone.

As he stood there waiting, he saw an influx of messages from Naveen and his dad.

But that was not what caught his eye.

Leah🌞

(3) missed calls (1) voicemail -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was midnight here and around 1 am in Boston.

Ethan walked out of the bathroom, exhausted to the bone. It had been a long day for him. The moment they had landed they had been rushed to Tefé, where they dived straight into work. The hospital was already flooding and there was so much pain and suffering all around.

Ethan has the emotions of a block of granite but, seeing so much misery and sadness, made his energies drop low.

And it did not help that the pocket in which his phone was kept, was weighing him down.

(1) voicemail from Leah🌞.

He wanted to delete it immediately but every time his finger hovered above the delete button, he just could not. So, he let it lay there in his inbox as a heavy reminder.

The moment Ethan's back hit the mattress a huge sigh of relief escaped his lips. He was weary and his body ached.

But, sleep didn't come to him.

He just lay there staring at the ceiling, seeing the different shadows casted by the moonlight. He saw the shadows of the trees swaying and the reflection of the Amazon.

His eyes landed on his phone on the bedside table and he stared at it for a long time, contemplating if listening to the voicemail was worth it or not.

You don't have to respond...

But, then my resolve will weaken...

His logic and conscience went back and forth but there wasn't any clear winner.

If this is what having feelings for someone is like, I don't want it...

But, you would take a 100 leap of faiths for Leah, won't you?

"ARGH!" Ethan threw the comforter off and got up. He started pacing around the room, trying to work off his restlessness. He walked around the room, his eyes trained on the phone as if it was a bomb. He clenched his jaw and tried to not let one insignificant notification affect him, but it was getting harder with every passing minute.

"Ah fuck it." Ethan said as he picked up the phone to listen to the voicemail. Leah's uncertain and raw voice flooded which forced him to lie down because of the emotions which bubbled to the surface.

"Umm.. hey Ethan, Leah here. I..uh heard that you went to the Amazon to fight the cholera epidemic from Naveen today... And I am proud of you but, I know that is not the reason why you ran, is it?

It's because I said 'I love you' three days ago, isn't it?"

Leah's voice cracked as she took a deep breath, before continuing.

"Are those three words that scary?

I had prepared myself that you would ignore my very existence and shut out all the feelings and that would have been painful but bearable, but... You literally ran to another fucking continent?!"

She bitterly chuckled and Ethan's heart squeezed.

"I don't even know what to do at this point. Don't they say that you should confess your feelings the moment you realize them, otherwise you will regret it? But... I can't help but feel regret... Why do I even try? I should have just shut the fuck up and get on with my day but NO! I had to open my mouth and here I am here talking to your answering machine.

I just can't help but feel that I let you slip away from me...

Anyways, it's okay.. I will wait. I promised you I would always wait.

Just...come back to me..okay? Bye."

The phone beeped, signalling the end of the voicemail. Ethan lowered his hand to stare at his phone's screen.

"I love you Ethan. And it's okay if you don't say it back. I know you need time and I will be here waiting for you..."

That's what she had said three days ago. And as much as they lifted him, it pained him. He was confused and just couldn't think straight. He needed some space.

But, he could feel his resolution weakening. The itch to dial that number and talk to her was irresistible.

You made a promise to yourself Ethan. You can't go back on that now.

He let out a deep sigh and ran his hand through his brown locks. His eyes landed on the table on which there was the complementary stationary provided by the b&b. An idea slowly bloomed in his head and he nodded to himself.

Sure I can't call her. But atleast I can write down my reply so that it won't keep on being a burden on my shoulder.

With that being said, Ethan sat down on the desk and poured his heart out on the loose sheets of papers.

DAY 10

For the next ten days, Ethan would keep an eye on the phone for any notification.

And by any notification, it meant a voicemail or a message from that one particular woman who had him in the palm of her hand.

He would get excited whenever his phone would ping but, his hopes would immediately crash when it would just be a message from the telecom company telling him about his telephone bill.

After he got his seventh 'Bem-vindo à Amazônia'(welcome to the Amazons,) he just let out a sigh of disappointment and turned his phone off and got on with his day.

I am such a moron... Look at where the mighty have fallen. The person who hated texting looks forward to a text. Ethan chastised himself as he entered the local hospital for a busy day.

Around noon when he headed to the cafeteria down the street, he turned his phone on to find a notification that made his heart beat faster.

(1) voicemail from Leah🌞

He pressed the button and brought the phone to his ear.

"Hey Ethan, just wanted to update you on the hospital and your patients. Everything is running smoothly and all your patients are alive. Chief Naveen and someone named Dr. Hirata are managing them. Mrs. Rodriguez went home today and she left you some cookies which I may or may not have stolen because well... they might catch fungi and that's sure would be a tragedy. Also, you don't even like anything sweet and would have given it to me anyways."

Ethan could imagine her shrugging as she stuffed her face with a cookie. That mental image was way too cute and Ethan couldn't help but melt a little. He sat down on his designated seat in the cafeteria and Leah continued.

"Also, Mr. Agarwal from room 456 was taken in by Harper for emergency brain surgery. He had an aneurysm and is in recovery. So far, he is showing great scope of a full recovery.

In short, everything is fine and smoothly running in your absence.

To be honest, I don't miss you that much. It just feel like a normal day when you are in one side of the hospital and I am in the opposite side. But... When I cross your office before clocking out, instead of seeing you working on your desk or lounging on the couch in your office, I just see emptiness.

And then that reminds me of the emptiness in my chest... But fuck that, who cares?!

Seriously, I don't miss you at all. But... That doesn't mean it's an invitation to stay in the Amazons indefinitely.

I would very much like it if you come back to me...okay? Bye."

A grin decorated his face and it made him so happy that his cheekbones were hurting. He shook his head as he put his phone down on the wooden table.

I don't miss you at all...

Who are you trying to convince sunshine?

Those words may be biting but he also knew his sunshine pretty well. He knew that she also missed him the way he did but, both of them were stubborn and had their heads all the way up their asses.

Neither of them were going to cave in and confess.

It's a tiring game and Ethan often wondered how long is he going to last.

So with his head full of thoughts, he took out the hotel stationary and began writing his response.

DAY 19

"Put the patients in bed number 4 and 25 in the recovery ward and ask if they are willing to provide blood for plasma therapy. Bed number 20 is going downhill so increase the dosage of the narrow spectrum antibiotics from 100mg to 250 mg every two hours. And..."

Ethan turned around and let his eyes run over the different patients. He was covered from head to toe in scrubs and goggles donned his face. The mask muffled his speech.

"Bed number 40 should move to another ward because it isn't too severe in her case. And can you update me on the patients in the gymnasium?" Ethan asked as he looked up from the clipboard.

"Most of them are infected sir. We have been segregating them from the healthy ones. We made the banquet hall the centre of testing and if anyone tests positive we are either sending that person to the hospital or to the gym. We have even initiated lockdown to prevent the spread of the disease." The doctor spoke with a heavy Portuguese accent.

"Good. Keep me informed about the patients in bed 12, 39, and 26 throughout the night."

"Yes Dr. Ramsey. Boa noite!"

"Good night."

Ethan walked out of the isolation ward and headed into the locker room where he could sterilize himself. Getting out of the numerous layers of scrubs was a task in itself and he felt so suffocated in them.

As he pealed out the layers off his sweaty body and removed the mask he stepped into the shower cubicle and turned the tap on.

He sighed in relief as the cold water washed over him, washing away the day's dirt, grime and sadness. Working in the isolation ward was never easy. It was always filled with fear and despair. Ethan would try his best to make them comfortable but, he never had a knack of people's skills.

If Leah was here she would have them laughing in no time. The thought rushed through his mind.

Leah.

Ethan was missing her terribly. The first few days were easy to handle the absence but now? Good lord, he craved her.

She was his sunshine and she always knew how to lift his spirits up when he had a rough day be it by cracking awful dad jokes, her infamous puns or her just being around him.

He missed those hazel eyes which would fill up with concern the moment she noticed his discomfort. He missed the way she would reach out for his hand and squeeze it twice when they were in broad daylight. He missed the way she would wrap her arms around his waist and lean her head against his chest when it was just them.

He stepped out of the cubicle, water dripping down his toned abs. He slipped on a fresh pair of jeans and a plain tshirt. He was about to pick up his messenger bag when he saw the screen of his phone light up with a notification.

Leah🌞

(1) missed call (1) voicemail

Ethan gave a small smile before pressing the button to hear the message.

"So apparently now I am Jenner's emergency contact, huh?"

Amusement laced her voice and Ethan groaned, hiding his face with hand. He hoped that Leah would never have to know but now the secret is out and all he wanted to do was curl up and hide.

She chuckled before continuing. "Don't be embarassed Ethan. I think that it is cute and I am so glad that you can trust me with your girl. Look at you, growing up and trusting people."

Ethan chuckled and Leah's tinkling laugh joined his.

"Basically, Jenner's dog sitter had to go out on an emergency so she called me to go to your apartment and feed her. Not going to lie but... I am scared."

She sighed before continuing.

"It's just that once I cross the threshold and see the cold empty penthouse shrouded in darkness... It would confirm that you are actually gone and that I can not continue living in the state of denial.

So, if you are getting calls from your neighbours that there is a hobo muttering to herself and pacing in front of your door, that's me."

Nervous laughter resounded on the line followed by another sigh.

"...you know what, fuck it. It's just a door."

Jingling of keys was heard on the line and it was shortly followed by excited barks.

"Oomph!" Leah was cut off by Jenner tackling her. A crash was heard, which might probably be the phone falling down on the ground.

Ethan smiled. He liked seeing his girls interacting.

Leah's coos were heard along with barks and whines from Jenner. Leah's voice sounded faraway as she spoke to Jenner in a baby voice.

"Oh girl... Don't be sad. I know he hurt you by leaving you here all alone. But you are not alone. Well, he hurt me too. So, don't worry we are on the same boat girl."

Those words were like a sucker punch in the gut and Ethan could not help but sit down on the bench as an after effect.

Don't worry... He hurt me too... Those words continue to echo through his head. He knew that Leah didn't say those words intentionally but, it just made him realise just how much of a facade she had put up, to hide her pain.

God, sunshine...

Leah's voice continued. "Well Jenner misses you too. We are okay, aren't we?" An excited bark sounded throught the phone and Leah chuckled.

"Sorry to disturb you. Go back to do your job of saving lives. You are doing a service to humanity Ethan, and I am super proud. You are so brave."

There was a pause before Leah blurted out.

"I- I miss you Ethan. A lot. And it hurts not seeing you here. But don't worry about me, I am a strong cookie and I will stay strong... For you. I just have one request though..

Come back to me soon...okay? Bye."

You have reached the end of the voicemail. If you want to hear agai-

Ethan immediately pressed the button and he heard her voice through the speaker of his phone. As she spoke, Ethan hauled a taxi to take him to his b&b.

You are doing a service to humanity... You are so brave..

Oh sunshine, if only you knew... it wasn't bravery.

I miss you a lot...

I miss you too sunshine...

Ethan sat and stared out of the window of his cab, a turmoil of emotions just running wildly in him as the words of the woman he loved, ran in his mind.

DAY 28

It was 12 am in Tefé and Ethan sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone's screen with narrowed gaze.

C'mon Ethan, don't be a pussy. It's just a message.

And that one message will be the breaking point for all of my will power and resolve. Might as well catch a flight home and personally wish her.

You are blowing things out of proportion... His inner voice reasoned.

"Shut the fuck up." Ethan exhaled, clenching his jaw, the muscle ticking as his eyes again landed on the blinking cursor, mocking him.

It was the 29th of April.

His sunshine's birthday.

And Ethan sat, twiddling his thumbs, contemplating what to type and send.

His thoughts went to last year when they were so at ease and could stay up and talk for hours but now, here he was, not able to formulate a single text message for the girl he had feelings for.

What have we come to?

Ethan couldn't help but feel guilty all of a sudden. Doubt clouded his mind and he wondered if running to the Amazon was really a good idea or not.

I needed space to think and figure out this 'love' thing... Right?

Shaking his head, he cleared all those lingering doubts and looked down at his phone again and wrote what came to his mind.

When did the great Ethan Ramsey get so cheesy? His inner voice snickered.

As he continued to read and re-read the message again and again, he started hating what he wrote.

"This is utter garbage. Who in their right mind uses emojis? Fuck this." Ethan muttered as he erased the entire message. He locked his phone and placed it on the bedside table before getting comfortable in the sheets and slipping into a deep slumber.

11:57 am Ethan had finished his rounds and was just taking a five minute break before he headed into the conference room where the team of doctors would discuss their approach.

The condition did improve a bit here on Tefé, but it was a massive outbreak and things were getting harder to control. It was a stress fest 24/7 and Ethan could feel his brown locks greying by the second.

In this five minute break, instead of grabbing something to eat and regroup his thoughts, he stood in the hallway, looking down at his phone. He had typed another message with lesser mixed signals.

Well... This sounds robotic... No wonder Leah called me Dr. Terminator the first time. Ethan snorted as he shook his head, disappointed.

He was about to type more when he heard his name being called by one of his colleagues.

"Dr. Ramsey, we are good to go."

Ethan looked up and curtly nodded. "Yes, I'm coming." He locked his phone and slipped into the pocket of his denim jeans, diving into work again.

7:16 pm Ethan was sat down on the bench outside the hospital and let out a breath of relief. He had been on his feet since the last 5 hours, running between the gymnasium, the hospital and the banquet hall.

The mask and goggles he had worn, had left bruises on his face and he just needed a fresh breath of air. Ethan took big gulps of the humid air which had hints of rain.

The thing about Tefé was that it rained everyday, without doubt. He enjoyed the rain but hated the humidity which was an inconvenient side effect. Though it was relatively cool at night, Ethan's shirt stuck to his chiseled body due to the excessive sweat.

Ethan took his phone out of the pocket and opened the messaging app again. "Short and sweet is better." Ethan mumbled as he started typing again.

He was half way through the message when his phone died due to the low battery. Ethan just looked up at the sky with defeat.

Was this the time to come at me karma?

He was about to head to the locker room to put his phone on charging when he heard panicked voices calling him. "Dr. Ramsey!"

"Yes?" He got up and started jogging to the entrance.

"Five patients in isolation ward CC-23 are deteriorating and they need help ASAP. We are short-handed and-"

"Say no more. We have lives to save."

12:00 am It was a stressful evening to say the least.

The patients kept on flat lining and Ethan and the staff tried bringing them back to life by injecting them with adrenaline. After a giving quite a few scares, they were finally stable and moved to the ICU.

Ethan dropped his duffle bag on to the sofa in his b&b and stretched his arms above his head, cracking his neck to release the tension in his shoulders. He fished his phone out of his pocket and immediately connected it to the charging port.

His screen lit up after sometime and he saw a notification which made his heart sink.

Leah🌞 (1) voicemail

I could not wish her...

Ethan opened his notifications and pressed on the voicemail she left, preparing himself to face the music.

"Uh..hi Ethan. I hope things are going as smooth as they can over there. I have been reading the news and keeping up with the situation there. I ain't worried about that because well... You are Ethan freaking Ramsey, the best diagnostician of your generation!"

Nervous laughter flitted through the phone speaker before it turned into a sigh.

"I know you are busy with the epidemic and all but... You missed my birthday. And- and I don't want to sound like those middle school teenager crying over an unwished birthday but... It hurts when the love of your life doesn't do it.

I have been trying to reason with myself that you could have forgotten but, I know you. I know that you never forget... And I didn't expect an elaborate gesture or anything! Even a small 'happy birthday Leah' message could have made my day... And I know you are caught up in your work but... How long does it take to type three words?"

Leah's voice cracked and Ethan felt regret gripping at his throat.

"Ethan- I am running out of reasons to convince myself. I am running out of those optimistic reinforcing shit. I am running out of the the number of benefits of doubts to give you. I am running out of faith that you feel the same way as me.

The longer I am spending time without any communication from you, the more I am loosing myself into the vicious cycle of doubt and self loathing.

I am angry at you and I hate you so much right now. I want to burn down your sweater in my closet and throw away the sun pendant you gave me. Just forget that you existed and go back to being the old happy me."

Ethan gasped, feeling breathless all of a sudden. The heavy burden of her pain and his self loathing was crushing his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe.

In a soft, broken voice Leah spoke.

"But I won't. I don't have the strength to yank the necklace off me. Even though it burns me and is a reminder of the person who left me, I still wear it. Even though your name hurts me, I still want to hear it...

...I love you Ethan, so damn much that it hurts me. I need you Ethan, I really do and I know it's selfish of me but...

Just come back to me... Please. Bye."

Ethan leaned his elbows on his knees and let out a breath which rattled through his body. He put his head in his hands and let out another breath, trying to breathe through the heart shattering pain.

I am so sorry sunshine...

So fucking sorry...

DAY 36

It had been eight days since the last voicemail and Ethan had been tormented, swimming in gut wrenching guilt.

Most of the times he found himself reaching for the phone to call her, but he would just clench his fist and resume his work. All the words left unsaid, he would just pour it out on to the loose sheets of paper. That was the only thing that prevented him from slipping into insanity.

He was never one to understand the sentimental reason behind having a diary or journal. From a scientific perspective, he knew that it has long lasting effects in mental health and helps get rid of the anxiety.

But now, whenever he felt like he was going to get crushed under the guilt, he often found himself writing.

If he wasn't writing, he would be working. He started staying at the hospital longer and worked for longer hours so that he could tire himself out. That way, when he went to sleep, he would immediately fall asleep.

But still, no matter how much he tried, his thoughts would always go back to her.

Funny how one person could make or break your life.

It was 4:45 am and Ethan was in the lab, checking in on the newest vaccine that they had worked on. The doctors had been utilising the plasma of the recovered patients to formulate vaccines using the antibodies created in defense. And so far, it had been helping them. They were already vaccinating the asymptomatic people and it made a huge impact.

But still, there was a long way to go.

"Dr. Ramsey, why are you still here?" Dr. Batra, a 50 year old woman from India asked, her voice laced with inquisitiveness.

"Just working on the vaccine strains, Dr. Batra."

"You and I both know that those strains are highly effective." She said as she leaned against the door frame.

"Never hurt to be perfect." He shrugged as he leaned back from the microscope.

"But it does hurt when you over work yourself."

Ethan sighed as he took his glasses off. He rubbed his face.

"How long have you been awake Ethan?" Dr. Batra asked, the maternal concern evident in her tone.

Silence.

"Ethan..." She gave him a stern look.

"Yeah, yeah I will go now. After some ti-"

"You do know that avoiding your problems won't make them go away, right?"

Ethan's eyes snapped to her and immediately looked away not able to hold her gaze. She reminded him of Naveen and how he could never hide anything for him.

I wonder how he is doing...

"But I am delaying the inevitable, as most doctors must do."

"Ethan... I have known you for a very short duration but, I know for a fact that you are not a man who gives excuses."

Ethan sighed. "It's complicated."

"As must all the things in this universe."

"It's just... There is this girl, and she confessed her feelings for me. And the intensity of the feelings scared me. So here I am, taking a break. But... There is this small pain in my chest whenever I think about her. She fills me up with euphoria but can also break me down. When I reflect back on all the happy moments, I get light headed, as if I am on drugs. That is why I am here, to analyse and figure out my feelings whilst helping with the epidemic."

"Well... I think you know the answer but, you are just living in a state of denial."

Ethan sighed as he looked down at his hands. "Don't I know that?"

"Well, if you know the answer then what's stopping you?"

"I-" they were interrupted by the shrill ring of Ethan's phone. He saw the name 'Leah🌞' and pressed the silent button immediately.

"You won't take that?" she asked eyeing the phone.

"I don't think I am strong enough to do that."

"Love is for the brave Ethan. Remember that." She got up and patted his shoulder before stepping out. The sun rays filtered through the gigantic windows of the lab, slowly illuminating the clinical set up with its golden rays. Ethan picked up the phone and saw that Leah had left another voicemail.

Picking up the phone, he stood in front of the window, letting the warmth of the sun wash over him. Be brought the phone to his ear and he heard her.

"Hey. Its 6 am here and I was bored so I decided to call you. Or leave a voicemail because you never pick up my call. I was just feeling lonely so here I am! Kinda ironic but meh.”

Ethan could hear her shrug though the phone.

“I have been taking double shifts all week and it's been so productive. The cool cases I have done and solved, the lives I have saved... they have been giving me my quota of serotonin.

Literally nothing interests or makes me happy now. So my job is the only thing which I look forward to. The things I used to enjoy doing, seems like a chore.

Everything seems like a chore.

Sleeping, eating, breathing, everything seems like an exhausting task. I don't even like sleeping anymore. Because whenever I sleep I dream fo you and when I dream of you, it's like I am being stabbed in the heart.

I don't even want to go home, because whenever I am home, I see your sweater and then my mind goes back to the numerous night outs we had, working on our cases.

The hospital is okay but, every corner I turn I think I see you which, I am going to blame on my sleep deprivation. Don't worry, I am not going into self destruct mode. I still force myself to eat three square meals a day and I get around 4 hours of sleep for every 48 hours I am awake.

So it's okay... I am okay.

I maybe a ticking time bomb BUT, I am not a working hazard. I am alert at all times and all my patients are in tip top condition. I think I should give credit to the two energy drinks I downed along with a cup of coffee.

Don't worry, my heartbeat is under the safe limit of 180 BPM.

In short, don't worry. I am golden.

I hope you are taking care of yourself too! I just hope that you come back to me.

Bye. Love you."

"FUCK!" Ethan exclaimed as he threw he phone with a thud on the table. He placed his palms on the cool granite countertop, breathing heavily.

Shit, shit, shit.

He started pacing in the lab, playing with his beard, his mind racing with worry and concern.

This was not supposed to happen.

Ethan stood and gripped the counter again closing his eyes, trying to centre his breathing but it was futile.

I need to do something, anything! His conscience egged him.

He opened his eyes and it landed on his phone.

Well, I guess it's time to make a call.

well, I hope you guys liked it!

do you think Ethan finally caved in and called her?

like, comment, reblog and let me know what do you think :))

[drabblemeister]

Wine & Writes: Coffee Prompt

Author: Ladelle | Drabblemeister Prompt: Behind every successful person is a substantial amount of coffee. Comments: Finally posting something, would you believe it Summary: Wherein Tim is a walking tragedy who has an embarrassing crush on a certain barista. There was something to be said for the amount of busy Tim was, though anyone wandering the floor of Wayne Tech with two brain cells to spare dutifully kept their thoughts to themselves. After all, laying insult to what was very obviously a genius was an undertaking for persons with a much higher pay grade - and since Bruce Wayne seemed to turn a blind eye to the amount of Starbucks cups that, at this point, looked like planned decor within Tim's office - it was fair to deduce that there may not actually be a problem.

Tim, begrudgingly, knew he had a problem. Though, contrary to popular belief, it wasn't caffeine. It wasn't coffee, either, though he was definitely okay with the convenience of that particular assumption as it was a red herring he was prone to fall back on. After all, it was a lot easier for people to believe he fantasized about midday Americanos and not Jason T., the barista, who served them.

"Ugh," Tim said, spinning in his desk chair. He'd slept in too late and nearly been tardy for a meeting, and so he hadn't stopped by the coffee shop at his usual time. It was enough to drive him insane. "What am I? Seventeen?"

He was not seventeen, but the amount of time he spent thinking about Jason's fingers fitting cardboard protectors onto steaming cups of coffee was enough to make him second guess what maturity bracket he was sure he'd climbed to post-college.

"Hey, how'd the meeting go?" a voice startled him, and Tim was quick to sit upright in his seat, as if he'd been caught at something incriminating.

"What meeting?" he questioned. The words practically fell onto the table, where he idly glanced downward, catching his reflection in the glass.

Desperation stared back.

"Uh," Tam blinked. She tucked a short, layered curl behind her ear. "Your 9am?"

Tim looked up just in time to see her eyes lift to meet his, as if she'd been scanning the tabletop, attempting to pick out just what he'd been staring at.

Tim sighed. Slouching into his chair, he ignored they way the joints squeaked under his weight; he twirled a stylus between his fingers and shrugged. "Oh, that meeting. It was fine."

Fine wasn't how anyone came away describing acquisition calls, but there weren't any words that could accurately convey the torture of listening to attorneys yell out IRS jargon for the better part of an hour. If Tim had to guess, it was definitely one of Dante's seven layers.

"Hmm," Tam hummed, and it was a very particular hum, a sound she always made when she was two steps ahead of him. For a moment, he was worried she was going to tell him that one of the attorneys had phoned in for him. Instead, she leaned against the doorframe and said, "I've come to learn something."

Tim hoped it wasn't the fact he'd stolen another one of her sticky pads.

"Behind every successful person," Tam continued, looking quite philosophical as she leveled her big brown doe-eyes at him, "is a substantial amount of coffee."

This time, it was Tim who blinked.

"Of which you've had none today," Tam clarified. "So I ordered you some. It should arrive any minute and all I ask if that you go downstairs to get it."

Tam, above all things, was a godsend. Blessed with the ability to make scarily accurate assumptions, she'd clearly missed a psychic calling and, since such a raw, interminable force of power had been unfairly relegated to transcribing Tim's barely legible meeting notes for the better part of a forty hour work week, Tim showed his respect by simply obeying her demands.

"Okay," he said.

In return, she offered a satisfied nod.

Tim added, "...and thank you."

And then, like all higher powers, she was gone.

This left Tim with the arduous task of standing, to which his entire body protested. He'd barely slept the night before (up late rebuilding a desktop) and listening to the lawyers go at it had effectively locked up his joints. Probably a survival instinct; you know - if you stay incredibly still, there's a chance they won't see you. Still, he found the willpower to move.

The 10th floor was quiet, spare the distant squeal of a Xerox and the distinct sound of a disgruntled administrative assistant lending a multitude of kicks. In nearly every corner, a muted television aired current market speculation and Tim wasn't surprised to see that the acquisition was already being reported on. Making his way to the elevators, he dragged a hand through his hair, disturbing the gel he'd forgotten he'd slicked through it.

A few bangs fell loose and he sighed, reaching up to loosen the neck of his tie since he was through with meetings for the day and wasn't expecting Bruce to drop by. For comfort, he even popped the top button, enjoying, momentarily, the ability to breathe. That was, until the door pinged open and the front desk was laid bare, a certain Jason T. stretched idly over the rise of it, a steaming cup of coffee seated next to his bicep.

In that very moment, the receptionist happened to turn, her attention torn from Jason T. and to the ever-so-slight movement of the executive elevator. Practically glowing, she called, "Mr Dr-"

It was too late.

In an unconscious moment of self-preservation, Tim jabbed the close-door button. Jason T.'s eyes lifted to meet his - just as the elevator whooshed shut.

Tim blinked.

His heart pounded.

Once again, his joints locked - same survival instinct. Just as useless.

Oh my god, he thought. Did I just-

Just, he had.

Eyes wide, he stared at his white-knuckled finger, still glued to the panel. He thought about going back upstairs. It wasn't like he needed the coffee. Besides, he'd just messed up his hair. And his tie wasn't right.

Natural Selection was a voice in the back of his head telling him that those green eyes were a danger to his very existence.

Without realizing it, his finger loosened on button, and with another ping, the doors once again slipped open. Only this time, right beyond them was a too-tight black shirt, biceps for days, green eyes that had the highway of Tim's circulatory system immediately rerouting southbound routes, and a lower lip pinched between teeth that made Tim swallow so dryly that he thought he might embarrass himself further by stumbling into a coughing fit.

"It's probably the sensor," Jason T. said, and he was leaning forward, nearly in Tim's space as he analyzed the doors. Since Tim was never going to admit he'd subconsciously tried to cut and run, he simply cleared his throat and took a step back, trying to get some air between them.

"Yes, well," Tim said, clearing his throat again. "Technology."

At that, Jason T. glanced down, an unfiltered grin garnering dimples. The spirit of Charles Darwin yelled, "Run!" from somewhere beyond the mortal plane.

Tim said, "You brought coffee?" and immediately ducked and weaved, trying to get to said drink, which he saw was still on the desk’s top. Their receptionist was in the process of hanging up a call, to which she sighed gratefully.

"I was calling the repairman," she said.

Tim fought a winning battle against the heat of his cheeks. "Yes, well, we should definitely have someone take a look."

"I didn't see you this morning," cut in Jason T., which was an interesting comment, because Tim wasn't aware the barista knew he existed. Which, in truth, was a bit ironic; some days, Tim thought everyone knew who he was - and his favorite color, album, magazine, hobbies, etc. He had a wikipedia page, after all. Also a twitter.

Something about the earnestness in Jason's eyes said he definitely did not have a Twitter.

Why was that so goddamn attractive?

"I didn't know you were keeping tabs," Tim replied, snaking the coffee into his grasp and taking a sip, giving his lips something other to do than further make a fool of himself.

Jason T., in all his disheveled and fitness-kissed glory, cocked his head sideways. "Would you rather I not?"

Tim, mid-swallow, lifted his gaze. Was this....flirting?

There was a beep, and Jason T. pulled up his watch. He sighed, though there was nothing about the sound that lended to defeat. "Well, I've got to run," he said, leaving Tim in a haze of bewilderment. "Still on the clock, you know."

Tim had not known.

He was still stuck on Jason's keeping tabs, a whole calculatory meme dancing behind him. He must have looked the part, because Jason laughed as he made his way towards the door and tossed Tim a salute.

"See you tomorrow!"

The sentiment echoed.

Tim stood for a moment longer, eyebrows drawn inward, trying to decide is he was either hopeful, and idiot, or perhaps both.

"Mr. Drake?" the receptionist said, and Tim nearly jumped out of his skin, having forgotten she was there.

"Sorry, it's just - he wrote something on the cup--" she said, looking incredibly pleasant about the whole ordeal.

"Oh," Tim replied, examining his white button-up to ensure he hadn't spilled just before finally taking a look at the cup. He stumbled over a laugh.

In fine-point cursive, there was a phone number. And then: next time, don't leave asking me out to your assistant~

[thehollowprince]

Civil War Fixit #1

How the Accords scene in CIVIL WAR should have gone down in production didn't favor Tony the way it did in a Captain America movie.

The Team (that's what the actually called themselves. Avengers was a name that Tony used at the drop of a hat and it had a nice ring when it comes to publicity, but it's a bit pretentious to use among themselves) sat around the conference table in the Compound situation on the Hudson, just upriver from New York. Thaddeus Ross, who had crawled out of whatever dive bar he'd last been seen in to suddenly be named Secretary of State (when will this country ever learn?), was droning on about perspective and accountability (totally unironically, it should be noted) while weaving in a story about a golf game for reference and simultaneously insulting them by calling them "dangerous".

Then came the video presentation, with footage of the battles of Manhattan, D.C., Sokovia and then finally their most recent mission to Lagos, which unfortunately ended in tragedy (but not as much as it could have).

Wanda flinched from the footage and averted her eyes, while Steve noticed and called immediately for it to stop. "Okay. That's enough." Ross nodded to his aide, who turned off the television, because apparently the Secretary wasn't capable of reaching over to push the button himself.

"For the past four years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution." His aid handed him a thick document, very official-looking, and he placed it on the table in front of Wanda. THE SOKOVIA ACCORDS were printed very boldly on the front of the novel-sized manuscript.

"The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries… it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary." Secretary Ross went on, as the document was passed from Wanda to Rhodey, who immediately opened it to look inside.

"Yes, we did lose people, but we saved more. It's an ugly statistic, but the innocent are always the first to suffer in any conflict. You would have thought someone with your war record would know that." Steve said, followed by a silence where you could have heard a pin drop. "The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place. I feel we've done that."

"Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?" Ross asked.

"Did you seriously just refer to two people who have done more to protect this planet than the entire US military ad weapons of mass destruction?" Natasha countered with a deceptively sweet smile.

"If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes… you can bet there'd be consequences." Ross said. "Compromise. Reassurance. That's how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground."

"So there are contingencies?" Rhodey asked, trying to keep the conversation on track, only to be interrupted by Steve.

"I'm sorry, I'm still stuck on the consequences part."

"Do you truly believe that you've suffered consequences for the actions done by this team? For the buildings you've toppled, the lives you've ruined, the country you destroyed?"

"For the record, Mr. Secretary, the Ultron program and everything it did after coming online is the responsibility of the man sitting behind me." The eyes of the other Avengers shifted to Stark, who was looking at Steve like he'd never seen him before. "Not a single other person at this table had any knowledge of what he was doing in his lab, so if you have issue with what happened in Sokovia, I suggest you take it up with him."

Ross opened his mouth for a rebuttal but Steve beat him to it.

"But, in the spirit of fairness, let's talk consequences." Steve went on. "F.R.I.D.A.Y.?"

"Yes, Steve?" The A.I. said from the speakers.

"Could you roll footage of Culver University, spring semester, 2008?"

The screen that had been off immediately clicked back on and began playing back footage from cellphones and cameras of Ross' failed attempt to contain and capture the Hulk in the middle of a crowded campus, using an unauthorized enhanced human, as well as weapons that put the civilian population in extreme danger. The last image was of the Hulk launching an armored truck at another, the screen immediately going static as the footage was lost.

"Harlem, three days later."

The Hulk's fight with a severely mutated Blonsky showed on the screen next, as well as the atrocities that Emil committed on his own before Banner stepped in to stop him. Ross's face was reddening at having one of his biggest failures played in front of the very people he was trying to intimidate. Harlem was on of his biggest failures and he did a lot to try and distance himself from it.

"Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y." Steve said and the screen froze on an image of the infamous Abomination lifting a car above his head, about to crush it into some police officers. "Tell me, Mr. Secretary, where were your consequences? Because from what I understand, you tried to pin the whole thing on Blonsky and Banner, getting a medal and a promotion for your trouble."

Ross stood there, gaping, like a fish out of water, unable to process what was happening. He really should have listened to Phillips back in the day, when he told everyone that Rogers wasn't anything like the propaganda. Sam, Wanda and Natasha were doing their best to not outright laugh.

"How long to we have to come to a decision?" Steve asked as the document was slid in front of him

"Three days." Ross said, straightening his suit and trying to regain his composure. Steve paused in his inspection of the document, looking up and raising an eyebrow at the short time span. "In three days the United Nations meet in Vienna to ratify the Accords."

"And if we come to a decision you don't like?" Natasha asked.

"Then you retire." Ross replied.

"Thank you, Mr. Secretary." Steve said, looking back at the document before him and not even giving the former general the courtesy of eye contact. "We'll be sure to discuss this thoroughly. He looked up then, pinning the older man with America's eyes. "I believe you know the way out." He said before looking back to the document, already a few pages in.

None of the other Avengers stood or showed any sign of walking him to the door, so Ross angrily turned on his heel and left the room.

"Oh, and F.R.I.D.A.Y. could you please provide the Secretary with a list of all the individuals targeted by Project Insight?" Steve's parting shot was quickly followed by a ping to both his personal phone and his aide. When he pulled out the phone, the first to things he saw were his and his daughter's face with a red label declaring them "Priority Targets."

*****************

Sorry if that felt rushed or slightly OOC. I did this quickly on the app because it's dead at work. Part 2 to come shortly.

[glambitions-a]

just one bite.

original female character centric fanfiction | post descendants three | canon compliant | part one of one | rating : teen | warnings : spells, death, mentioned eating disorder (it never explicitly says ‘delilah has an eating disorder’ but you can definitely inference it) | word count : 2742 | part of the unhappily ever after collection | masterlist

prompt: “it would warm my ancient heart if you could accept this modest gift on your birthday.  just one bite... and a good fortune to the fairest of them all.” unhappily ever after collection

tags (open): @cherry-bxtch​​, @cosmosstarstudio​​, @go-sullivan​, @tacobacoyeet​

    she wraps a finger in a stray curl of her hair, it’s not black enough.  even with the yellow ribbon tied in dark brown waves it’s not enough.  she huffs and tugs it out, the ribbon floats daintily to the surface of her vanity (a grace delilah herself could never achieve) and she stares at it with jealousy.  she had tried so desperately to make herself light as a feather, her waist so petite it looks as if she had been squeezed into a thousand corsets.  her skin so pale her mother swears that she looks like death, and you can see the veins in her her wrists.  her friends had sworn they could see her ribs even through the sweaters she keeps over her.

    delilah sighs and sucks in her cheeks, and she almost has no skin to pull in between her teeth.  the rouge brush tickles her cheeks, but smiles give you wrinkle lines so she can’t afford a giggle to pass her rosy lips.  she had perfected the perfect smile, it was unnatural, sure, but it minimized wrinkles so it was okay with her.

     she sets down the brush delicately, presses her fingers to her cheeks anxiously, as if to get rid of the skin that had been raked by well-manicured nails several time before.  she was only thirteen, but she had become so vain so soon, and she had to.  her mother was only fourteen when she died.

    and dying certainly wasn’t on delilah’s to-do list but if it happened maybe she could be the picturesque princess asleep on a death bed of flowers.  all she wants is to be like her mother, people adore her.  she has tried everything, but yet she hadn’t yet reached the beauty of her mother yet.  well, she had tried everything but plastic surgery, but she was forbidden from that.

    she had asked once when she was younger, but her mother had nearly fainted at the question and her father had given her the stern and noble ‘you’re beautiful just the way you are’.  so she dutifully apologized and ran up to her room to sulk, as you do.  delilah had learned what questions to ask, like ‘how lovely is the weather today?’ or ‘where did you get that dress?’ she knew better than to ask silly things concerning literally anything else.  she was a princess, not a little girl.

    she cradles her head in her hands as she glared into the mirror.  delilah hates the way she looks, she’s not different enough to be pretty on her own, so people constantly compare her to her mother.  ‘you look just like your mother! a splitting image!’ and at first she beams and thanks them.  but then they tilt their heads and look harder at the practiced pinkish pout that doesn’t pass as red only slightly and the not quite ebony hair. ‘well, almost just like her.’  so she tried harder, she has to.

   at first she may have been pretty, but it wasn’t enough to be pretty, she had to be snow white. delilah had to be the kind of pretty that princes would risk their lives over.  even if the blue veins were very easily seen on her limbs, and the shadows under her eyes, and her lips had turned a sickly grey-pink, there was still something so delicate about her.  pretty, almost, like glass.

   and yeah, she had been taught to avoid apples like the plague but in secret she didn’t, not at all. the minute she heard princess audrey had been cursed by the daughter of maleficent (even by accident) delilah knew her time would come.  she had begun looking for things to take from strangers, spending more time in the woods and even volunteering to help the survivors from the isle of the lost just in case the evil queen should see an opportunity. 

   over the week, all she could think about was how she looked, that she needed to appear perfect at all times in case a terrible tragedy should occur.  delilah has scarcely eaten anything at all, and when she did eat she felt so sick to her stomach that she almost immediately coughed it back up.  some days, she could keep it down, but others she couldn’t.

   so here she was, seated at her vanity, clutching a lip tint with a deadly grip in her hand as she shakily traced it over her lips.  it’s supposed to make her lips rose red, but it’s too pink.  delilah purses her lips and sets it down, groaning.  she needed to look just like her mother, she wasn’t enough on her own after all.  the thirteen year old stood up, brushing off her pale yellow pleated skirt. 

   she adjusts the blue sweater on her shoulder, and pretends not to notice how dead she looks because it’s too big and keeps sliding off.  she might as well have no skin at all with the look of her bony limbs.  she practices her smile in the mirror before grabbing her bag to head off to school.

   it’s around four in the afternoon before she gets back to her awaiting parents, who are seated at the table oddly silent.  normally she’d catch them in post afternoon tea, where they would be discussing the weather, or how her mother’s career was doing. but today, they don’t even notice she arrives until she comes to next to them, because they were too wrapped up in their thoughts.

   she touches the teapot in the middle of the table, it’s cold.  their tiny cups are full of dark liquid, so she knows they have something to tell her, probably bad.  they never waste perfectly good tea.  

    “darling,” her mother sounds so disappointed, so concerned.  “sit down, please.” she grits her teeth behind closed lips.  she obeys of course, she has to be a good daughter, and a perfect princess.  “are you aware of what tomorrow is?”

    she shakes her head, and pretends not to notice the dread filled fingers pressed into his pale temple. “of course you don’t.”  her mother scolds him under her breath, but it’s too late.  if her kindhearted father is disappointed, she must’ve really forgotten something important.

    her mother purses her classic red as blood lips, seemingly preparing for her next words.  “it’s your birthday,” is what comes out first. “tomorrow’s your birthday.” she corrects almost immediately afterwards.  delilah almost hits herself, how could she forget her own birthday? her calendar was always correct one-hundred percent of the time.  she wouldn’t forget to plan a party, her own party nonetheless.

   she supposed it’s possible she didn’t mark it on purpose, after all the evil queen is loose, who knows what kind of havoc she could wreak on the birthday of a princess. (though that seemed much more maleficent’s style wasn’t it?)

   “oh, i completely forgot.”  that was true, she had forgotten, and she honestly doesn’t know how.  “with all of these tests... i’m so sorry, mother.”  paired with big guilt ridden eyes, she could get away from this without a scratch.  her eyes found her fiddling fingers in her lap.  if she could blow it off, she could go up to her room and do homework.  that wasn’t really what she wanted to do.  but she would do it to make her family proud.

    “it’s alright sweetheart, me and your father have a party planned.”  her breath caught in her throat.  she had been sort of distant with her friends lately, so a birthday party would be awkward and strange.  “it’s a quiet little garden party, but there will be quite a lot of people there, i suppose.” 

     she sucked in another breath, delilah could no way tell her mother she had been blowing off her friends to constantly pick at her insecurities and tiny flaws of her appearance, oh what would she say?  “that sounds so lovely, thank you!”  she walks over to delicately put her arms around her mother.

    her mother seemed to stiffen in her arms, “delilah honey, you look like you’ve let yourself go.” she almost flinches at her words.  she stands back up, and crosses her arms. “i can’t remember the last time you ate anything besides apples.”

    delilah almost curls in on herself to wallow in self pity, “i’m fine mother.” her tone turns cold, but she’s trying too hard not to cave and tell her mother how she feels, “thank you for the party, i’m going to go find something to wear.”

    and then she’s sitting in her closet, alone.  her phone is next to her foot, and for the first time in weeks it was plugged in and the screen was lit up with texts.  she looked over at it, it was the only thing she could see since she was completely concealed in the dark.

    delilah gnaws on her lip as she reaches for her phone, her fingers hovering over the keyboard it takes her a little bit to muster up the courage to ask the girl on the other side of the phone if she wanted to go shopping, she had some christmas money left over after all.

    to not press the send button was so very tempting, but she really didn’t want to be alone in her adventures of looking for something to wear so she pressed it.  and in true delilah style she immediately regretted it afterwards.  her head was buried in her arms atop her knees, and she really was starting to wish the party was cancelled.  if it was this hard for her to talk to one person, how hard would it be for her to be at a party.  and to make it even worse she would be the center of attention.

    she waited with her nerves filling up her own body, all from just from not speaking to anyone outside of school for a while.  the phone pings from where it sits and she picks it up, a sigh of relief flowing through her lungs as she read the words of agreement on the screen.

     it didn’t take long to decide on a time, and it was equally as quick to get to the mall (probably due to her mother’s love of the mall, so the castle was close to it) the girl she was with was the daughter of rapunzel, so she was good with coming up with what to do.

     the mall was fun, but it was over soon with delilah coming home with a navy blue and buttercup yellow dress that looked unnervingly similar to the one her mother wore, only shorter.  but delilah persisted that it was what she wanted.  the dress was now in her hands as she started to pick out other things to wear with it.  her birthday was on a saturday, and today was friday. anxiety stirred in her stomach thinking about the party, even though all she had to do was show up.

   the mary jane shoes at the bottom of her closet looked promising so she grabbed those and a pair of plain white socks with adorable little ruffles.  there was a little necklace with an apple charm that she layed out next to the dress also before deciding the outfit as done and hanging it up in front of her wardrobe.

   by the time her and her parents ate a silent dinner, all the worrying she had done had tired her out plenty.  so much so that she almost immediately fell asleep as soon as she got into bed.  even with how tired she was it was a miracle that the millions of thoughts in her head didn’t keep her up all night.

   the next morning she felt sick, and she tried to tell her mother that and snow white simply brushed her off with a perfectly perfect laugh.  okay, so she didn’t feel actually sick, but her stomach was twisting because she hadn’t hung out with anybody since forever.  and yeah, she did hang out with rapunzel’s daughter the other day but there wasn’t a lot of talking.  of course she turned down breakfast and although she didn’t miss the concerned look on her mother’s face, it was routine now so she didn’t care about it much anymore to be very honest.

     she slipped on the dress and shoes before carefully latching in the golden necklace, after all she’d had it since she was a baby and didn’t want to damage it or break it in any way.  her hands were practically shaking as she went over to the vanity.  delilah pretended that she was just doing her makeup, covering up her shadows like she normally did.  lips glossed red, cheeks brushed pale pink, it was normal.

   she was used to this by now, and she knew how to make it look like there was no effort put in.  a little extra sparkle on her eyelids made her feel like this was something new.  she curled her hair, tied a ribbon over her head like she normally did.  delilah adjusted herself in the mirror before leaving the room.  

   she stepped down the stairs quietly, delicate as she normally was, how she had to be.  she was thirteen, turned fourteen and yet delilah white knew how to look small and feel small in almost every way imaginable.  her shiny black shoes creaked on the stairs and she winced at the noise, even though a warm call of her name from downstairs immediately followed.

   her parents were awake and sitting at the table with their morning tea, as normal.  but the difference was that there was a little baby blue wrapped box on the table.  she smiled softly, before reminding herself of the wrinkles that could follow. when she reached the bottom of the stairs, she kissed her mother’s cheek as affectionately as possible.  “good morning, mother.”  her voice was honeyed, but her parents didn’t know that.

   “good morning dear.”  she kissed her father’s cheek as well before sitting at the seat the little box was placed in front of.  it couldn’t be bigger than a tissue box but still delilah felt a little warmth in her heart.  she trailed her fingers over the soft fabric covering the box.  her smile only widened as she felt the silky material.

   “is this for me?”  her voice was soft, maybe even childish, but the fact that she had forgotten her birthday had hit her hard enough so much so that she was surprised her parents remembered to get her a present.

    her parents nodded cheerfully in response, but just as she touched the ribbon to start to pull, the door rang. she smiled apologetically and told them she would get it.  delilah’s footsteps on the wooden floor seemed to echo in her eardrums.  a twinge in her chest led her to think that something bad could happen, but she ignored it.

   she opened the door and nearly gasped at the sight before her.  a fairly ugly old woman wrapped in a black cloak stood before her with a soft wrinkled smile. “hello dear.”  delilah nodded and forced out a quiet ‘hello’.

   her wrinkled hand stretched out to reveal a shiny red apple, the color of blood, the color of her mother’s lips. “it would warm my ancient heart if you could accept this modest gift on your birthday.” now, delilah wasn’t stupid.  she knew her mother’s fairytale forwards and backwards.  and in her heart she knew how this would end.  but all she could think about was fulfilling her mother’s legacy, how pretty she might look wrapped in a flowered deathbed.  

    she smiled gratefully and took it in her hands, trying to mask the shaking of her fingers.  she  didn’t need to be worried, right?  it was just a sweet old woman giving the princess a gift on her birthday.  delilah raised it up to her lips, the bottom of it touching the apple first.  only when her teeth just pushed open the skin of the fruit was when she heard the woman say something, her voice sounding younger and meaner. “just one bite... and a good fortune to the fairest of them all.”

     delilah didn’t even realize she had swallowed the bite that had made its way into her mouth until the room was spinning and her vision darkened, her mother calling her name and the woman cackling.  but even then she knew she was dead.

ʚĭɞ | if you want to be on my taglist, all you have to do is like this post.  hello darlings!  this is my story for the writing event i started for fifty followers. please share the collection linked before the cut of this piece, i really want to get some more writers on this!  i’ve been dreading writing this for some reason, but it feels good to get it out of my drafts!

[zillala]

I 𝙉𝙀𝙀𝘿𝙀𝘿 this, so fucking badly! D;

It succinctly organizes & hashes out all of the chaotic little thoughts I have about the ItaFushi vs. SatoSugu parallels, which, for me, are always pinging around aimlessly because they’re so shrouded by my sheer paranoia about JJK potentially ending in either ItaFushi-less OR ItaFushi-full TRAGEDY.

ItaFushi is not like other pairings. I will say it a million times. Yuuji’s & Megumi’s dynamic together is something truly masterful. They have so much raw care & concern for one another that they both don’t even really feel much of an impulse to hide or heavily edit parts of themselves in order to appear stronger or “better” to the other. This is especially telling in regards to someone like Megumi, whose persona is very calculated & tightly buttoned-up to downplay emotional expression as well as indications of weakness/vulnerability. I think, when Yuuji exploded into Megumi’s blasé life, he cracked his world wide open, and over the course of the series, you can track the evolution of Megumi’s behavior & overall attitude towards, well, everything. Gege includes all of these subtle details so very deliberately, with each manga panel thought out meticulously & crafted to express something very intentional in the narrative, and there are countless examples of this in the manga that showcase just how serendipitously Yuuji’s character & Megumi’s character complement one another, with each of them bringing out the other’s own individualized expression of the higher form of fulfillment & happiness their “friendship” has brought about in their lives more & more noticeably as the series progresses. I mean, Yuuji had nobody in the very beginning of the series! And similarly, Megumi felt very inherently separate from others as well. When they found each other, the void of loneliness that preexisted in both of them was filled in the most cosmically perfect way. ❤︎

Itafushi vs. Satosugu Analysis

Posed with this question on twitter which had me go like “yeah thats not gonna happen.”

“If Megumi and Yuji end up the same as Gojo and Geto… what are we going to do? “

disclaimer: just using their ship names in reference to the relationship dynamic between the characters in canon, not connotating a romantic relationship

I feel like satosugu and itafushi are specifically portrayed to be foils of each other, to compare the ways that itfs excels in what stsg failed at (honest communication and being sensitive to each other’s feelings, acceptance of each other despite differences in philosophy, etc)

Keep reading

[tragedystale]

Oh, IHOP? There's fruity pancakes, chocolate pancakes, birthday cake pancakes... You should try as many as you can get your hands on so you can figure out which is your favorite.

Tragedy sat still next to a large silver door. It pinged and people stepped off as they walked in around them, pressing all the buttons on the side with a giggle. "That sounds amazing! IHOP is next then! ...do you only eat the birthday one on your birthday? Might be hard," they muttered, tapping their fingers as if counting. "...I don't know when my birthday is."

[rrcooperwrites]

Opus V

Reddit: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/pjvdik/wp_youve_been_defeated_again_and_you_couldnt_be/

[WP] You've been defeated again, and you couldn't be happier! Ruling over the land as an all powerful dictator always gets boring. Now comes your favorite part, the grind back to the top!

As always here is the accompanying soundtrack: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3fAg9pzqtc9UiP0K9gZj6Y?si=f90c96f884c847a5

START HERE >>>

Liberator from the Imperial Yoke, Protector of the Realm, Head of the Church, Lord of the Moon, Husband to the Sun, Master of Beasts, Professor, Doctor, and leader in-perpetuam of the Planet Kingdom of Gardenia, his Serene Majesty Theofilium XII was dead.

And he couldn’t be happier.

As soon as Hiro’s sword penetrated his chest, Theo’s event listener kicked in. The running environment noticed the triggered event. The event’s signature was “tirant_defeated”, its data variant was 48280.

Theo jumped up from the submersion chair, almost pulling down the cranial-sense injector that but seconds ago had been embedded in his nose.

“This is it!” Theo exclaimed. He was sure of it.

“Just needs some tinkering, a hair here, a death there, a sickness over there,” said Theo as he plopped into what he liked to call the “Thinking Chair”, which wasn’t inaccurate. The “Thinking Chair” could brag that it had provided comfort to one of the smartest arses in the universe.

A processing tower gave an audible ping, like a kettle, a rather irritated kettle as well.

“Coming,” screamed Theo at no one in particular. A second, even more irritated, ping resounded across the room.

“I said I’m coming Tofi,” said Theo, “I can’t process information as fast as you can.”

A smug series of pings sounded in the room.

“Slow down Tofi. I understand morse code, but there needs to be at least more than 100 milliseconds between each letter if you want me to keep up.”

A reproachful series of pings.

“You’re right, I haven’t been studying. But if this works out, we’re going to be getting a lot more free time.”

Theo wheeled himself over to the pinging console.

“The future 50 year simulation looks good. Not too much tragedy really. Couple of rebellions, all quickly put down, and a strong dynasty is established as well,” said Theo as he nodded approvingly, “There is a definite advantage to killing the BF during the campaign. Note to self: Change abbreviation of BF to something else. It sometimes makes it difficult to differentiate between Best Friend BF, and Boy Friend BF.”

Theo pressed a series of buttons on the console and reports started to roll out from the asthmatic matrix printer.

“Which is running out of ink,” said Theo, “Note to self: Walk down to beach for squid rings and ink.”

Theo wheeled himself over once-again to the printer and started reading the data.

“Ok, so let’s look at base stats first. Lost heir to the throne is the perfect way to go, clearly. People like a bit of pomp I guess. Also female is always better, particularly if they’re born to exiled nobles. A sword as a personal side-arm is a must have, I wonder why?”

A series on inquisitive beeps sounded off.

“That’s true Tofi, swords and sword-like weapons are always associated with justice, truth, and nobility. Which is of course ridiculous. There is no justice or nobility when a sword skewears a infant, although there is a sad kind of truth in it I guess.”

Reaffirmation beeps.

“That’s right Tofi! We’ve got the best variables now. The perfect side-arm. The perfect best friend. The perfect first kiss. I even managed to let Hiro decide for themselves who they want to romance. As long as they stay away from Malinha, they should be ok. Of course, that requires me to kill her off after she has served her purpose.”

Regretful beeps.

“Well yes, but to be fair, that is her purpose in life, isn’t it? Be evil, turn to good, die for Hiro’s sake. There is a lot of purpose in a life like that.”

Sad beeps.

“You know you shouldn’t get attached to them. They’re tools.”

Silence.

“Fine!” exclaimed Theo, “If you manage to find a way to save her, do it. Just make sure she stays away from Hiro for say the next 50 years after they defeat the tyrant, ok?”

Dutiful beeps.

“Ok Tofi. I’m going to rest now. Tomorrow, we can continue working on the successful run. Who knew that a trainable smart cheeky pet would be a must-have?”

Night-night beeps.

“Good night mate,” said Theo as he walked past a series of spherical containers. One of them was labelled “Hiro”.

“Sweet dreams saviour,” whispered Theo while lightly brushing his fingers across the concreglass of the container.

“It isn’t fair what I’m going to put you through and there are no gods or spirits that will forgive what I’ve put you through to get here.”

Theo walked into his little sleeping coven.

“But I don’t need forgiveness,” he said to himself, “all I need is for Gardenia to be free.”

And so Theo slept. He slept the uncomfortable sleep of the criminal who knows he has done wrong. But every now and again he would have small dreams though. In this dreams he finally released Hiro into the world. With him where all the companions that he had carefully selected.

The Mentor, The Best Friend, The Lover, The Spouse, The Veteran, The Enchantress, The Villain, The Kind Priest, The Boisterous Warrior, The Mage.

They were all sitting in spheres alongside Hiro’s. Whenever he remembered this, Theo managed to sleep quietly for a little while more, and dreamt of freedom.

[leaiorganas]

fic - someone like that 3/3

Clara and the Doctor, co-workers, holiday party, secret crushes. What could possibly go wrong?

And done. I’m sorry you guys.

On AO3 here!

Clara groans as the sun filters through her bedroom window. Who was the idiot that forgot to close the curtains? She turns onto her side while pulling her blanket up over her head, praying that the room would stop spinning.

“I bring presents.” Amy says from the bedroom doorway. She waves a bottle of paracetamol in one hand; the other holding a mug of tea.

Why is everyone shouting?

“No one is shouting.” Amy places the bottle down on the bedside table and sits herself down on Clara’s bed.

Oh, out loud then.

Clara groans again, lifting the blanket away from her face. She brightens when she sees the tea and makes a “give me” motion with her free hand. Amy laughs and brings the mug over to Clara. “So? How was it?”

“We are not talking about last night. We are never going to mention last night again. I am currently waiting for my grave to open at my feet so I can hurl myself in. My cause of death will be listed as utter and complete mortification.”

Just thinking about last night makes her queasy all over again. How was she ever going to step foot in her office and face him again? Yup, she was going to have to quit.

“That bad?”

“Let’s see, I drank a wee bit too much, got mauled by Craig, was saved by the Doctor, who didn’t seem all that impressed with me, and yup, might have told him that I was really into him.”

“YOU WHAT? HE WHAT?” Amy shrieks, clapping a hand over her mouth at Clara’s wince. “No, no, no, back up. Wait. Back up. Back up. What the hell happened?”

Clara sits up a bit more and reaches for the bottle of paracetamol. She shakes out two tablets and takes them with a sip of her tea. “God, where to even begin? I am not sure I will be able to live through the story again, it was that tragic.”

“Nope, I need every single detail and you better not leave a single thing out.” Amy leans forward; this is going to be good.

With a sigh, Clara lays out everything that had happened from her encounter with the Doctor in the coat check to his “saving her” from Craig’s wandering hands. She tells Amy how the Doctor insisted on driving her home and how she just blurted out the things she had said. It got a bit hazy but she was pretty sure she can recall the look of horror on the Doctor’s face after she spoke.

Amy leans back as Clara buries her face in her free hand, the heat rising from her cheeks. God.

“Okay. Look, I don’t think it was horror-“

“It was!”

“It wasn’t horror, I am sure it was just surprise,” Amy repeats. “Look, you’ve said that the two of you haven’t had a chance to really talk so it was probably just surprise. From what you’ve said, he seems a bit of a loner so it could have just been shock. It would be the last thing he would expect to hear from you.”

“Yes, but now I can’t unsay it. It’s out there, the words just hanging over me and every time I see him I am going to be reminded of what a complete idiot I was. He’s going to be reminded of what a complete idiot I was.” Clara waves her hand in frustration, nearly tipping her mug over.

Amy grabs the mug from her and places it down. “So maybe instead of avoiding it, just face it head on. Go talk to him.”

“Avoiding sounds good, avoiding sounds real good. I think that’s the best plan.” Clara says, nodding her head. “I will just pretend like it never happened. Will just go to work and we’ll all pretend it never happened.”

Amy says, “So you’re not going to talk to him anymore, just gonna ignore him?”

Clara sighes, “I bet he is just going to ignore me anyway. I mean, it’s not as if we were friends. He is going to pretend nothing happened and then I won’t have to.”

Amy stands up, staring down at her friend. “Hey, I think this could be a good thing. You’ve liked him for a while and now he knows how you feel. This could be as good an excuse as any to talk to him. Talk to him about something more than the weather.”

Clara lays back down as Amy leaves, pulling the blanket over her head again.

Yeah, she was going to have to quit. No way was she stepping foot in that building ever again.

++

Clara spends the next day agonizing over what to do. Her gut is telling her that he will likely avoid her, going out of his way to make sure they minimize their contact. He is a noted scientist and professor, she a children’s book editor and what in the world makes her think that he will even want to be friends with her, never mind anything else. She convinces herself that she need not go out of her way to avoid the Doctor, he will do that for her.

So why does the thought of never speaking to him again fill her with so much sadness?

Monday morning arrives too quickly and it is a disaster; it starts to rain a few minutes before she arrives at her building, her tights are laddered and as she races to catch the lift, she slides on a puddle of water causing her to reach out and grab at the nearest body to keep herself upright.

Of course, it was the Doctor. Of course it was. Her humiliation is now complete.

She closes her eyes for a second before removing her hand away from his arm.

“Are you all right?” His voice expresses concern. He reaches his hand to grasp her elbow to help steady her but hesitates, hovering around her instead.

She watches the doors to the lift they missed close before turning to him. “Yeah, sorry. I didn’t know it was going to rain today. Thanks for the catch.” She leans over and presses the button to recall the lift. A few times in case that makes it arrive faster.

“No problem.” He hesitates, “Did you have a nice weekend?”

Really? Small talk. Can’t he just let her wallow in her humilation in peace?

She opens her mouth to reply but before she can say anything, he turns to face her fully, leaning down close. “Can I…can you….coffee with me this afternoon?” He stumbles over the words and she watches a flush creep up his neck. “If… that’s ok?”

“Uh…” She knows she looks must look like a walking tragedy, eyes wide open but she can’t seem to get the words out. Before she can even gather another breath, the lift arrives, doors sliding open with a soft ping. He steps into the empty lift and calls back to her, “Never mind, sorry. Sorry.”

That catches her attention, “Wait, yes. Yes, Doctor.” She rushes the lift and manages to squeeze in next to him before the doors close. Looking up at him, she smiles, “Yes, I would like that very much.”

++

They had agreed to meet at the coffee shop two blocks down from their building. Clara understood that to mean that he was not interested in having the others in the office speculate why they would be leaving the building together. The day drags on, broken only by Craig approaching her late in the day. He mumbles his apologies about how he had behaved at the party; blaming the alcohol and his own idiocy, careful to avoid mentioning the Doctor. She accepts the apology for what it is but he was still a prat and she makes a mental note to tell Danny that she really doesn't want to hang with Craig in future.

Finally, she makes her escape and as she steps outside the building, she realizes it had stopped raining and the sun was desperately trying to peak through the clouds.

She decides to take that as a good sign.

The coffee shop was just ahead and Clara slows down, doubtful thoughts starting to creep in. What if he decides not to show? What is she misunderstood why he wanted to talk to her and simply was using this as an excuse to tell her he wasn’t interested? Ugh, what if he saw her as someone with a silly crush and was trying to let her down gently?

She hesitates on the doorstep of the shop, letting the wave of insecurity and embarrassment overwhelm her for a moment.

What if this was a huge mistake?

She almost decides to leave when she sees the Doctor sitting in the corner of the shop, eyes watching her steadily through the window. As if he knew her internal debate. Sighing, she pushes open the door and makes her way over to his table.

“I thought you were going to leave.”

She shrugs, “I almost did.” She nervously twists the rings on her left hand, watching him carefully. He asks if she wants anything to drink and she shakes her head. She issn’t really interested in drinks right now.

“Look, I am s-“

“About Saturd-“

They both start to speak at the same time. He smiles at her, gesturing for her to continue. Her heart gives a little flutter at the smile and she knows she is in deep.

“I just want to say, that I was really hopeful that I could get to know you at the party and I am sorry that it just did not end up working that way at all.” She continues before he can speak up, “I have really just enjoyed the conversations we have had at work and I thought….but when you said no to dinner and then stayed anyway…well, I guess I should have known then.”

He starts at her last sentence and leans back, running a hand over his face. “I really wasn’t going to stay, Clara. I want you to know that. I-I would have liked to…you know…stay. With you. At dinner.”

She smiles and he only stares at her, calm. She feels relaxed for the first time in days, maybe even weeks.

“I was worried about you,” he says. “I mean, I didn’t want you to think that I was so brusque with you after…after you fell because I thought you weren’t capable of taking care of yourself. I was just worried about you.”

She nods and busies herself with a paper napkin on the table, pulling at the ends lightly. He mirrors her gestures, nervously picking first at the black jumper he wears and then his fingers opening long and sweeping over the column of his throat; they move carefully against his skin and she leans closer without realizing it.

His hand drops then, curling his fingers into his palm. “I want to get to know you as well,” he tells her.

If she’s surprised, she doesn’t show it. She turns her gaze away and looks out towards the busy street, watching people pass by on their way to whatever is calling to them. She counts the minutes that the silence stretches between them.

“Why?” She fidgets and blushes. “I mean, we’re so different.”

She sighs, out loud and her hands pile into her lap. She rubs her thumbs around the rings on her fingers. She counts them once, twice, and then looks down as if to make sure they’re still there too. These little games – nuisances, as her grandmother used to call them – are old and friendly, too far from habits and too close to be anything else.

“Aren’t we?” She asks and doesn’t mean too. She’s blushing again when she looks up and takes a tiny peek at him, watching him carefully.

“We’re not so different, you and I.” His eyes widen as Clara leans even closer, trying to absorb every word. “We love books and in the conversations, I have heard you have with Danny, you seem to want to travel and it’s something I have also wanted to do. Also, theater; you mentioned once how much you love theater.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

He’s quiet then, after. She’s briefly reminded of the party and everything that went wrong that evening and can feel the wave of embarrassment curl through her again. Will she ever stop remembering that evening with trepidation? But he is here, telling her, in his own quiet way, that he likes her as well.

And, she could go with that.

“Yeah, maybe we could go to a show some time together.”

He looks at her, genuinely concerned. As if the thought of them doing something together is a concept he is not entirely prepared for.

“Or,” she says quickly. “Not. It’s just that if you wanted to, together. We could and, well.”

He looks at her then, a soft smile curving around his mouth so she smiles back. He reaches his hand forward, hesitates before placing them softly over her hands. He wraps his fingers around hers, gently. The moment stretches between them, long and filled with the beginning of something.

“What?” she looks up at him then, and grabs his wrist gently, prying her fingers away from his. His hand pulls back but she pauses and takes his hand in hers. He doesn’t pull away.

“What?” she asks again.

His mouth opens slowly. It closes. There is this look that she catches from him that speaks to shyness and uncertainty. He leans towards her though, and around them, the shop slows to a murmur and she’s almost wistful, waiting for what’s next.

“Hold still,” he says, and quickly, as if to catch her. He leans closer but she’s confused, watching him.

“What?” A third time.

He says nothing more. It happens so slowly, catching her off guard as he lifts a hand and presses it softly against her cheek, and his fingers start to pull themselves into her hair. He tugs once and twice, and there’s something so utterly genuine about the gesture. It gets her to sigh too. Her lips part and he leans in, ever so carefully, and closes the last gap between them. Clara scarcely has a moment to pull in a breath before his lips touches hers. A whisper of a kiss. So soft and warm and fleeting but then his mouth touches hers again and her eyelids flutters close. They could have been anywhere in the world instead of a quiet coffee shop, that was how quickly the world receded away.

The Doctor’s lips press to hers for another heartbeat and the hand against her cheek trails lightly over the skin, sending shivers up and down her spine. She reaches out to clasp at his jumper, literally clutches at him, trying to hold him to her but he pulls back slowly and blinks at her.

“We can start with dinner, if you want?”

She smiled, breathless and so hopeful; they can work through all the details later but this is all she really wants. A chance to get to know the Doctor better.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

[suzanneshannon]

Love in a time of Corona Virus - Tips, Tricks and Best Practices for Working Remotely

In this time of the Corona Virus and COVID-19, Microsoft has taken the unprecedented move of shutting down their Seattle campus. No one goes in to work until March 25th. That means they're all remote workers! Like me! For 13 years!

Do note that I am deeply sympathetic for the situation we all find ourselves in and I'm deeply aware of the privilege we have as tech/desk workers to be able to do our jobs remotely. I am also (dare I say) looking forward to what I believe will be a dramatic increase in Remote Worker Empathy on the part of the in office folks.

Check out my previous posts on being remote and explore the Remote Work category if you like.

Good, Better, Best creating the ultimate remote worker webcam setup on a budget

Tragedies of the Remote Worker: "Looks like you're the only one on the call"

30 Tips for Successful Communication as a Remote Worker

Virtual Camaraderie - A Persistent Video "Portal" for the Remote Worker

I also want to showcase some of the great tips and suggestion for remote work that are being shared. Here's tips from our own Adrian Murphy who has shared them internally at the company and has given me permission to share them externally. You can follow Adrian on Twitter and thank him his team for sharing all this information and for their kindness!

These tips are written in the context of using Microsoft Teams (which has an extraordinary free plan, BTW) but you can replace those references with Zoom/Skype/Whatever and the tips are the same.

Tips, Tricks and Best Practices for Working Remotely

Working remote can be quite a shift from being in the office, and sometimes the things you take for granted in person suddenly become massive inconveniences when working remotely. Whether this is your first time being remote or you're a remote superstar from the Antarctica office, this collection of tips and best practices may help you get settled.

Communication

Be mindful of time zones. Your middle of the day may be someone’s 3:00 am, so when scheduling calls or pinging via Teams, don’t forget to take into account the time zone differences for all involved.

Turn on your video when on a call with your team (there’s a bunch of communication which is non-verbal). Occasionally show off your pets on said video. It’s the little things that make it all feel more human.

Some might have reduced bandwidth. Consider turning on video at the beginning during intro and turning it off during important parts if you experience hiccups.

During calls, make sure to wait a few extra seconds when asking if folks online have any comments. It can take time for folks to un-mute themselves, and sometimes things can chug or hiccup. It’s not as instant as it is face to face, so you don’t want to move on before folks can even get a word out on a call.

Some headsets have a hardware mute button and different conference software has hotkeys for mute/unmute. That can make it faster to unmute yourself.

If you are in a room full of people with a conference mic, speak loudly and clearly regardless of where you are sitting. While folks in the room may be able to hear you fine from 6-10 feet away, the conference room mic registers barely a whisper for those dialing in.

Mute your mic in big meetings, in small meetings it’s up to you—an unmuted mic will also give some of the incidental non-verbal (but vocal) indicators of what you’re thinking/feeling.

If you plan to present, prepare for meetings ahead of time by pre-loading web pages, powerpoints, or other presentation materials. During larger calls Teams can sometimes get bogged down, esp with many video sources at once, and this will cause the rest of your software to run slower. Having a room of 15+ people watch a web page load for 30 seconds is a great way to lose friends.

Summarize action items or conclusions in the call for everyone when one has been reached. Finalizing a conversation by summarizing the key take away is a great way to make sure the information is correct, and allows the folks on the call have a chance to hear it and respond if need be before the meeting moves on.

If you are leading/proctoring a meeting, be prepared to play switchboard operator if multiple people speak up at once. In person we use social cues and body language to naturally reach a speaking order, in a remote call someone is going to have to make sure only one person is speaking at a time, but also that everyone gets heard eventually. It can be as simple as “why don’t we have person A speak first, then person B” and let the conversation flow from there.

If someone has something to say but is waiting their turn, and the conversation veers in a different direction for a few mins, make sure to check back with the person who was waiting. It’s possible their comment was addressed during the course of that conversation, but don’t assume so. Offer them the chance to speak before the meeting moves on.

If you are presenting from your machine remotely, ZOOM IN. What looks fine to you on a home monitor may be microscopic on a projected screen in a room of 20 people. You can use the free ZoomIt tool from SysInternals and draw on the screen if you like.

If possible/acceptable, record meetings in Teams. This allows folks who weren’t able to attend, or may have otherwise missed a moment in the meeting due to a bandwidth hiccup, to catch up after the fact. Add the video link to your meeting notes when sending out (Teams will usually finish processing a recorded video within 10-15 mins of capturing it, and sends a notification to you in outlook that it’s ready).

Keep on top of your mails and Teams inboxes. If people can’t walk up to tap you on the shoulder, this is your only interface with your colleagues. Consider enabling pop up notifications or flashing task bar indicators for when you have unread messages.

Likewise, be aware that Teams chat is async by nature, just like e-mail. Expect more delay than when you walk to someone’s desk to ask them a question.

Never forget that there’s a real person behind every email address, Teams message, and DevOps Tickets.

You may have to “read the room” more as a remote worker. You may not be able to see someone’s body language to know whether or not they are joking, smiling, or upset about something.

It’s okay to take calls in casual clothes if you're comfortable and able. Don’t wear anything that’s offensive, explicit, etc - use your best judgment - but don’t feel like you have to get super dressed and be uncomfortable all day. Enjoy being home and wear your sweatpants!

It’s okay to eat on calls if it’s your dinner or lunch time, we do it all the time in the Boston office! Just mute your mic, chewing sounds are gross!!!!

Equipment

Make sure that you machine is properly enrolled in Intune and has VPN access before attempting to work from home

Make sure you have at least one of your comm tools (email, teams, slack) on your phone in addition to your laptop, so that you can let people know whats up if you lose power/internet at your home.

Keep your laptop batteries charged.

Get mobile with unlimited data if possible.

Stock up on necessary dongles, adapters, cords, and wires. Lack of necessary connectors can decrease your productivity.

Consider a headset for calls, specially ones with an easy to access mute button and fold down mic. It really can improve the quality of your audio. Webcams, specially those not at keyboard level (pointing up your nose) are also important.

Lifestyle

Take a little time to make your work environment pleasant. If you’re working in a mop closet with no windows, or the spare-room-equivalent thereof, you probably won’t be that productive. We’re complex beings. Put a plant on your desk, get some music going, clean.

You may wish to have a conversation with your kids that goes something like this: “Now, when I’m at my desk this week, it means I’m working. I can be interrupted a little bit sometimes, but most of the time I’ll need to be able to concentrate.”

You may wish to choose a work place in your house with a door to make this more explicit for children. “When this door is shut I am at work and you need to find your other parent”

EAT. You’ll forget to eat when you’re not surrounded by huge cafeterias or a team of people asking you what you want to do for lunch.

Working remotely can be lonely sometimes. Find a way to reproduce the feeling of that office chatter, or the casual hallway/water-cooler conversation. Music, podcast, background TV noise (when appropriate), etc.

Get some fresh air from time to time. Normally when you’re at the office you’re walking to/from the office and from your building to the cafeteria for coffee or lunch so you get outside quite a bit, but when working from home and the kitchen is just downstairs, you can very easily go a few days without actually leaving the house. It doesn’t need to be far, and with COVID19 around it probably shouldn’t be, but maybe sit on your porch while you drink your coffee, it helps clear the lungs and the head.

Good light is important. Having good lighting closer to natural light wavelengths makes the environment much more pleasant.

Build a routine of specific cues to help you switch into “work mode”. For example, you may still get dressed as you would if you were heading into the office to put you into the right mindset for the day.

Get interesting drinks and snacks!!! If you drink 12 cans of seltzer a day, make sure you have seltzer in your fridge. If you like getting peanut M&Ms from the team room at 2pm, grab some for your home! You’d be surprised how boring your regular drinks are when you’re used to fridges filled with flavorful things and a huge tea selection etc.

Things to avoid

If you are in a meeting room with other folks, try to keep side conversations and noises to a minimum. Imagine you are sitting in the center of the table and hear the things closes to the mic the loudest, because that’s how it is for anyone calling in.

Don’t sit right next to the microphone if you are going to be taking notes on a loud keyboard. It will drown out every voice in the room.

Don’t disclose sensitive information if there are others in your home office when you’re in a meeting. Generally speaking, it’s better to be using headphones if others are around.

Don’t direct a question to more than one individual at a time. This can be mildly awkward in person, but over a call it becomes nearly impossible to figure out who will speak first without any of the visual/bodily cues we normally rely on to resolve speaking order conflicts.

Don’t use whiteboards unless they are clearly visible to the room camera (and even then it can be tricky to see). Digital mediums present in Teams are always going to be superior for folks who are calling in.

What are your tips?

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LeBron James' Energy Level Will Make or Break the NBA Finals

The Golden State Warriors may still lose these NBA Finals, as they did a year ago. Calamitous events that remain out of their hands are technically possible. Until some unforeseen basketball tragedy takes place, however, that seems highly unlikely.

Now up 1-0 in their third straight championship series and in the midst of a 13-game win streak, with two MVP winners and a transcendent finalist for Defensive Player of the Year onboard, Golden State is flat-out unfair. The Warriors just may be the greatest team in NBA history.

In Game 1 on Thursday, they made the Cleveland Cavaliers, owners of the best offense in playoff history, look worse than the Philadelphia 76ers. Kevin Durant and Steph Curry combined to score 66 points, and when interim head coach Mike Brown decided to sit them both for nearly five minutes at the start of the second quarter, the Warriors extended their lead by two.

Golden State's best lineup wasn't even deployed for a whole two minutes, and they still rolled along adjustment-free, leaving the rest of us to wonder if the day they're truly tested is a day that will never come. Durant and Curry don't need to be staggered, and Cleveland has provided the Warriors zero incentive to steer from their usual spread of split cuts and high pick-and-rolls into an iso-heavy attack that powers up their two best players like Clark Kent in a phone booth.

More important than all that: Golden State punched the turbo button in Game 1. They were lightning in transition and pranced in the open floor, gobbling up Cleveland's missed layups for fast-break fuel. If the rest of these Finals is played as quickly as Game 1 was, the Warriors will go 16-0. And that's both because and in spite of LeBron James.

James' ceiling is Cleveland's ceiling, and the only limit to both is his energy level. In order for him to be successful in this series, the tempo can't resemble a ping-pong match like it did on Thursday night.

In one illustrative sequence midway through the second quarter, Kevin Love snared an offensive rebound off Kyle Korver's missed three, quickly scanned the court, realized Curry was guarding him, and went to work. Draymond Green slid over to block Love's first try, so he went up again after gathering his own miss. That didn't fall either. A third tip? No dice.

Green finally corralled the rebound and handed the ball off to Curry, who whipped a 50-foot outlet pass to a streaking Shaun Livingston. With Korver backpedaling as the last line of defense, Livingston attacked the basket, found Durant creeping up the right side, and hit him for an easy dunk.

Even though these plays don't directly involve James, they function as steady jabs to his midsection—they sap his stamina and make him look human. During that very play, James raced the length of the floor and soared through the air to meet Livingston at the rim before he crash-landed near photographers along the baseline and sat up just in time to watch his man score.

Photo by Marcio Jose Sanchez - USA TODAY Sports

During the 2015 Finals, the pace was 95.3 possessions per 48 minutes when James was on the floor. That dropped to 94.8 in last year's seven-game classic. With James in the game on Thursday night, the pace was 102.1. While James moved slightly faster and covered a bit more ground according to SportVU, most of his stats for physical exertion were right in line with his average this postseason. Still, it was clear that the game's breakneck speed had taken a toll by the third quarter.

James contested only five shots, down from his nine per game average in the postseason, and looked sluggish switching screens off the ball. After playing the first 14.5 minutes of the game without a break, and while primarily guarding Durant and Green, he took a few offensive possessions off, standing in the corner while Irving freelanced or Love tried to take advantage of a mismatch, but too little of this game was conducted in a half-court setting.

When James did have the ball, it was either an attempt to ram it down the Warriors' throats or command an inverted pick-and-roll, primarily using Curry's man to set the screen. According to Synergy Sports, just over 38 percent of James' possessions were pick-and-rolls in Game 1, after he averaged 22 percent in the playoffs. This isn't necessarily a bad strategy, but most of his eight turnovers emerged from this action—and since the Cavaliers can't guard the Warriors, they need to be perfect on offense to have any chance of winning.

While the Warriors don't necessarily have any cracks on defense for the Cavs to exploit, they are far less effective versus post-ups and isolations—action that, as a bonus, typically breeds fewer turnovers. But James essentially bailed on post-ups as a serious option after he barreled down Andre Iguodala with three barbaric collisions and a turnover in the second quarter. Deron Williams sent Ian Clark to the free-throw line ten seconds later and the next time James posted Iguodala up, he was dragged to the ground and drew a foul.

The Warriors are built for speed, and they exist to run off missed threes and layups. Heading into the Finals, Golden State's offensive possessions were about two seconds shorter than Cleveland's, per Inpredictable, whether it be after a made shot, turnover, or defensive rebound.

Matching up in transition against them is like trying to solve a Rubik's cube—you think you have one side down only to find out another got totally destroyed. There was another play early in the third quarter where, with his team down 15, James gathered a Klay Thompson miss and bowled straight at Durant in secondary transition. James crossed him over, met Zaza Pachulia at the rim, and missed an awkward, fading right-handed layup on the left side of the basket. Exactly seven seconds later, Durant kicked a pass out to Curry for a coffin-sealing three. Nearly a quarter of Golden State's points in Game 1 came like this.

Photo by Kelley L Cox - USA TODAY Sports

Even on defense, the Warriors accelerated the pace. They pressed full-court to force drives and sagged back at a depth best described as "disrespectful" to bait Cleveland's shooters into pull-up jumpers or contested layups. It worked. Instead of switching every Kyrie Irving pick-and-roll, Green actually dropped back a few times—a high-risk, high-reward strategy knowing how deadly Irving can be, but also what a miss can lead to.

Tired LeBron is fatal for the Cavaliers. They have approximately a 0.0 percent chance to win four of the next six games without their best player operating at the peak of his powers for 40-plus minutes on both ends of the court. After watching Game 1, that sounds unlikely, but a few strategic changes and a regression to normality could help.

The Warriors will not turn the ball over just four times in Game 2. Tristan Thompson will have more sway in the paint and be more destructive on the offensive glass—the primary way to erase Golden State's fast-break opportunities. And James will not cough the ball up seven times in the first half. Expect more work to be done with his back to the basket, especially in small units when Durant is guarding him, so as to eliminate those long arms roaming on the weak side. As a team, the Cavs should favor patient, hero-ball situations, and be less inclined to jack up the first open shot they see (especially from players with "Shumpert" on the back of their jersey).

As dominant as Curry and Durant are individually, pace can make a real difference, and for Cleveland to have any shot at clawing back and making this a competitive series, they'll need to slow things down, take their time, and force the Warriors to beat them in the mud, where James has the physical tools to dominate.

Keep playing these games in fast-forward, though, and Cleveland has no shot.

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