#ive gone off the charts

[spacedlexi]

trying to keep all my clemviminnie thoughts contained until i get to episode 3 but

its hard

[patronsaintofposmodernity]

nothing makes me feel quite as behind and childish and juvenile as meeting from time to time with my college friends and it's. so embarrassing

[hiddendreamsstuff]

A little (time called) resus fantasy that asks you to use your imagination as to how we got here. Feel free to DM with your ideas. 😁

You are naked from the waist up. You have a blanket over your bottom half to give you some sense of dignity. They are pounding on your already bruised and battered chest endlessly. Your chest caves so deep with each one at this point. Your ample chest is exposed and your breasts show the impact of the doctor's compressions. You arm hangs partially off the table, bouncing with each one. You have a tube down your throat and the nurse is pumping air to you through it with a bag.

Leads are connected all over your chest measuring all of your vitals, of which there are none at the moment. The monitor makes a high pitched buzzing sound. The team around you is working tirelessly as I watch them from the corner of the room.

One nurse is giving you resuscitation meds through an IV in your arm… A doctor is doing compressions because all of the nurses in the room have exhausted themselves doing so for the better part of an hour….Another nurse is charting…. The other continues filling your lungs with air…. The final one stands by the monitor, paddles at the ready….

It’s your third code today. The others were short; a minute or two at first, then ten. You have been shocked nine times in total. Five of them were at 360j during this code alone. You have maxed out on drugs. But your heart has not had electrical activity for over 20 minutes now

… it’s been too long; I can tell- you look different- there is a void in the room…

Another doctor comes into the room. She sees the “time down” reading on the monitor. It says 47 minutes 52 seconds. She goes to the doctor doing compressions and puts her hand on her shoulder. “She is gone. You have to let her go” she says earnestly.

“She’s young” they say.

“She is healthy” they say.

“Can we go just a few more minutes?” One begs.

The doctor doesn’t stop right away. Then she pauses with her hands still on your chest then slowly pulls them away across your breast. The nurse does not stop breaths until the doctor sighs deeply and tears well up. “She has been down 48 minutes 35 seconds. We have to call it….Time of Death: 15:42…”

Now your body’s still. I sink to the floor.

No one else moves right away. Then, the doctor rips off her gloves and yells, “Damn it! I can’t believe we’ve lost another one!” and leaves the room. The other doctor follows her out to the hallway. I watch the nurses start unattaching leads, remove the tube from your throat, and pull the blanket up to your neck.

You are gone. There was no saving you. What is left for me?

[skyloftian-nutcase]

I don’t know if the prompts can be asking for more in stories you’ve already started, but I would love to see more of the Hero of Shadow and Wild Link interacting, or more on Abel’s heart attack in the HC AU, or more interactions with Zelda and Link after they had to get married (Golden Mercy? The Imprisoning War? Not sure what that one’s called). … Or basically anything involving hurt/comfort or Hyrule, honestly. 😂

I love your writing so much, thank you for sharing it with us! < 3

Hyrule snapped his fingers in front of his friend. “Wild!”

Wild blinked, flinching and taking a step back. “S-sorry—”

“You good? Was that another—I thought the meds—”

“No,” Wild shook his head. “I—it was—sorry, I just—he—”

Wild continued to stammer, at a loss for words. What was he supposed to say? He hadn't spaced out, he'd honed in, his mind had snapped with clarity, screaming at him and wanting nothing more than to run towards the stretcher.

That man—he was—

And he was having a—

"I-I just... need to sit down for a bit," Wild finally said, walking out of the ED.

Wild had yet to fully explain everything that had happened in his past. Everyone knew he had gaps in his memory, that he'd sustained a head injury, that it made him have absence seizures, but the cause of it... the people he'd left behind because of the aftermath...

How could Wild possibly ever explain? He'd failed in his mission, and it had gotten his entire team killed. He could never face anyone from his past, let alone his—

Castle Town had promised a new life, a new beginning, especially as memories had tried to piece themselves back together and make him want to run and hide all the more. If he told everyone... then there was no more running from it.

Wild buried his face in his hands, resting on an empty stretcher in the basement. His mind screamed with anxiety as his past caught up to the present, and his heart screamed with worry over his father.

This was a nightmare.

XXX

Fable looked over her room one more time. Ambu bag? Check. Suction? Check. Defibrillator? Check. She had her maintenance IV fluid set up, the plasmolyte liter set up, the wires for the cardiac monitoring system ready to go, chest tube suction at the ready, and her little trays had all the syringes, saline flushes, blunt tips, alcohol swabs, caps, lab tubes, and everything else she could think of prepared.

She'd chart stalked the patient while he was in the OR, and she'd already gotten report from the nurse. Forty-year-old male (oh he's young, Fable thought, used to seeing far older patients) presented to the ED via EMS with chest pain and shortness of breath, STEMI confirmed with EKG, and he was sent to the cath lab. There they found multiple severe occlusions and opted for an open heart bypass surgery rather than using stents, and off to the OR he'd gone.

The surgery had gone fairly straightforward from what she could see - he'd been on bypass for about an hour, and the surgery itself had been going on for about four. He'd gotten about 500 of cell saver, 2L crystalloid, and 1 RBC, and he'd only been defibrillated once.

Just as she looked over the chart again, roll call was sent out to the unit, and she gathered her thoughts as she went to the room, awaiting the patient. He arrived a minute or so later, and the room quickly filled with Fable, the charge nurse, the tech, another nurse, the anesthesiologist, the attending surgeon, the fellow surgeon, the respiratory therapist, the ICU attending, and the nurse practitioner.

Everyone slipped into different roles and tasks fairly easily and quickly. Anesthesia handed off to the RT, who attached the ET tube to his ventilator, the tech worked on putting chest tubes to suction and getting outputs, Fable assessed her patient and looked at what drips they were on (2 of epi, 4 of levo, 0.02 of vaso, 1.5 of Dex, 1.2 of insulin), charge took the admission note while the surgeons gave report and Fable listened vaguely, her other nurse was attaching the safe set to the arterial line to collect blood for labs and an ABG, and the ICU providers listened to the report.

Vasoplegia, not too much bleeding but enough to merit product, chest tube output was a little high but not alarming, and he was cold at 35.8. Fable asked her tech to get a bear hugger, and x-ray arrived to check ET placement as the surgeons finished report. Fable stripped the chest tubes alongside the surgical fellow before they all stepped out for x-ray. ABG resulted pH 7.33, pO2 107, CO2 38, bicarb 24, and lactate 3.1. Fable opened the extra plasmolyte fluid bolus up to try and help with the lactate, which was likely indicative that the patient was dry.

The surgery team left, and Fable remained to stabilize the patient. She and her charge nurse worked on detangling the lines while the tech covered him in a warm blanket. His blood pressure was within parameters, with a mean arterial pressure greater than 65, though his systolics were in the 120s, which was right at his upper limit, so she tried weaning the levo a little, going to 3 to see what would happen, before continuing to detangle lines, get a blood sugar for the glucommander that was determining the insulin levels to give him, and obtaining cardiac output indeces. His cardiac index was 2.8, and his systemic vascular resistance indexed for his body weight was around 2600. Good CI, a little higher on the SVRI end. Perhaps she should wean the epi too, assuming his MAP tolerated it.

After about an hour, Fable felt a little less overwhelmed, and she called her charge nurse, who had left the room a good while ago alongside the rest of the team. "Have we heard anything about family?"

"He has a wife and daughter," she replied. "But they're a fair distance from here, out in Hateno. I think last we heard they were making arrangements to get here, but it wouldn't be until tomorrow morning."

Fable glanced at the clock. It was almost shift change, so night shift would have to be the ones to wake the man up, get a neuro assessment, and then hopefully extubate him.

Nodding, she went back to work. She wasn't going to wean sedation until he was warm enough, so all she had to focus on right now was stabilizing him. His labs came back and his hemoglobin was a little low, and his two mediastinal and one pleural chest tubes collectively put out about 280mL of blood. It was still a fairly high amount, mostly evenly distributed (the meds were bleeding more, but neither exceeded 100mL for the hour), but not enough to think there was an active bleed that needed surgical intervention. Not yet, at least.

Overall, he looked pretty decent.

After another hour, one blood product later, Fable finally felt like she was starting to get everything settled. Her patient's temperature was normalizing, but she was twenty minutes from shift change, so she figured it was safer to let him sleep through report and then night shift could try to figure out weaning and bathing. His lactic on his repeat ABG was improving at 2.4, so they were likely addressing all the problems.

When a transporter walked by, IV pumps in hand, she noticed him pause in front of her room. She walked over to him. "Hey. Can I help you?"

The transporter, a young man with long blonde hair tied out of his face, jumped, a little startled. "Uh, hi. Yeah. Sorry. I just..."

"What room are you looking for?" she asked helpfully. "I don't need extra channels."

"Uh, these are for 4301."

"You passed it, it's back that way."

"Right," the man nodded, looking back in the room. "Right."

Fable waited a moment, and then asked, "Can I help you with anything else?"

"Is he doing okay?" the man immediately asked.

Fable smiled. "Yeah, he's looking pretty good, I think."

"Can..." the transporter swallowed, shifting anxiously. "Can I talk to him?"

"He's pretty sedated right now," Fable answered cautiously. "Why do you want to talk to him?"

The transporter sighed in defeat. "I... he's my dad. I... haven't seen him in a long time."

His dad? Her charge nurse had said he had a daughter, not a son. Though... looking between her patient and the transporter in front of her, the family resemblance was striking.

Well, she hadn't heard of any visitor restrictions for him. "Yeah. You're not on his chart, though - can I get your name?"

The transporter sighed, putting the supplies he'd been carrying on the counter of the nurse's station. "I wouldn't be on it. My family thinks I'm dead. It's complicated."

He—uh... what?

"My name's Link," he answered her nonetheless before entering her patient's room.

Link? Huh. That was...

Wait a second.

"Hey, are you one of my brother's friends?" Fable asked as she followed him into the room.

"Your brother?"

"Link. Likes to call himself Legend to differentiate," she replied with an amused roll of her eyes.

Link gawked at her. "You're Legend's sister? He never even said he had a sister!"

"You two are alike," Fable huffed. "He doesn't particularly want a bunch of people to know he's related to me. But never mind that. Go talk to your dad."

Link stood there a moment, processing the words, before he exhaled shakily and nodded. Fable moved to the computer, working on catching up on charting to give him some privacy but also keep an eye on things. This patient's safety was her responsibility, after all.

Link seemed almost timid to approach the patient, even though he knew he was sedated. He slowly slid his hand into the older man's, shakily and quietly saying, "Hey, Papa. I... I, uh... I-I..."

Fable glanced out of the corner of her eye, seeing the young man getting tearful, and she tried to focus on her work once more.

"I missed you," Link whispered. "I'm s-sorry... about... about everything."

She heard a sniffle, and then the transporter moved quickly out of the room, offering her a brief but quick thanks before disappearing.

Fable turned towards the doorway, and then looked at her patient uncertainly. That was... odd.

Sighing, she walked up to the man, brushing hair out of his face. "Buddy, your family drama sounds almost as crazy as mine."

[cloudbends]

GOT A HAIRCUT and it's GOOD!!!

Getting a haircut today and I'm being so brave about it

[interrogatormentors]

Hey nepeta do you still ship people together? If so who's your OTP?

:33 < buckle the fuck up people we are about to go to town :33 < first of all of course i still have a shipping chart what kind of sensible person do you take me for :33 < its ummmm a little messier now but a girls gotta make do! :33 < m33ting more rebels has merely increased my pawsibilities for shipping too! :33 < meowstly i still k33p track of the main circle since its suuuuper hard to k33p track of everypawdy when theyre going to the diffurent bases we have but i do my darnedest regardless!!! :33 < what kind of shipper would i be if i didnt??? :33 < so equius is of course still my meowrail, obviously :33 < i think he wouldnt be here if he wasnt :33 < hed have gone off like mr ampurra did :33 < i think this is also the case fur gamz33 too :33 < that cr33p still wigs me meowt but what are you gonna do hes sticking around and that seems to be good enough fur my cuddlefish :33 < he and tavros are like all but confurmed pale! its totally obvious even if tavros doesnt like to go out adfurtising his quads :?? < vriskers and terezi have like... something going on but those girls are so messy its soooo hard to tell :33 < if i had to make a guess i think they vacillate a lot and ive s33n kanaya slipping in and out of the equation too... not sure in what quads but :33 < honestly good for her. she should live her truth :33 < i think equius sometimes has super black inclinations towards gamz33 which is kinda :// :33 < but im not about to yuck his yums! hes fr33 to quad whoevfur he wants X33 < he can be a freak if he wants to be!!! i dont care about micromanaging him :33 < aaaaanyways terezis just straight up a loose cannon a lot of the time, super casual with pails :33 < aradia and sollux used to be pale but its kind of hard to tell where they stand now since most of the evfurything that happened :33 < i know that karkitty is absolutely gunning for pale with pawllux which yknow, im not a hundred purrcent sure hes rehabilitated but like! :33 < the fact that he asked for help at all is like meownumental so im willing to give him the benefit of the doubt if aradias vouching for him :33 < theres also some of the regular rebels too!! like, that r33ly weird yellow, golese, hes definitely got some sort of red inklings with the other interrogatormentor rescue that attacked sollux, vitzii?? :33 < miss trisia is hardcore gunning red with solluxs former interrogatormentor pawtner and isnt even shy about it :33 < golese has let slip that one of the seadweller rebels that has b33n out a lot on missions has pale inklings towards that vitzii guy too but like. im not sure hes like. fixed up enough to really care which is kind of tragic for his suitors!! :// :33 < i havent s33n golese come back from his last mission though and his meowrail has b33n almost climbing up the walls its kinda rankling the mewd :33 < as fur me... w3333ll :33 < i uhhh used to have a crush on karkat but like :33 < i grew out of it obviously ;33 < i purrsonally dont like to kiss and tell but fefuri and aradia are r33ly cuddly ;33 < i would say thats my otp but that could be construed as biased ;33 < also id be categorically incorrect since its truly an ot3!! h33h33

[sitp-recs]

Hi! I love kingsman and i saw your kingsman recs and ive read all of the fics you've recommended! I dont know if this is okay, but do you perhaps have more kingsman recs? Its completely okay if you won't/can't give recs. Love your recommendations (⁠灬⁠º⁠‿⁠º⁠灬⁠)⁠♡

Hello friend! I’m so happy you enjoyed that little list. I checked my old bookmarks for additional recs, but please keep in mind that I haven’t read Kingsman in a loooong time so none of these are recent. Hope that’s ok :)

Feel a Little Warmer by blacktofade (E, 3k)

Eggsy has never been much good at coping around Christmas time. Harry helps take his mind off it.

The New Age by DivineProjectZero (T, 3k)

It starts with being cursed. No, scratch that. It starts with a garden and a serpent. And no, it goes a little differently from what you’d think.

Considerably Less Cannibalism by lizard_witch (E, 6k)

It is a real, physical struggle to not stare like a dogger while Harry shrugs off his jacket and undoes his collar, sets his signet ring aside. He has detailed, minutely detailed, fantasies about unbuttoning that fucking collar. At least he’s not wearing the holster right now, or Eggsy’d be sprung already. “It’s time you learned the fine art of the straight razor shave.”

the things we steal (it was only a kiss) by DivineProjectZero (E, 6k)

Eggsy whips around to find Harry Hart standing right behind him, holding a martini glass and just as gorgeous as Eggsy last saw him, three years and two months ago.

into the wails of your windfight by fideliant (E, 8k)

It takes a mission gone wrong for Eggsy to find out that even in real life, the dead don't always stay dead. Sometimes the movies get that part right, it would seem.

Handler by Galahard (E, 12k)

It seemed obvious to Eggsy that he'd be the next Galahad after he successfully offed Valentine. When an agent forces Merlin to stick to the test and refuses to let go of the fact that Eggsy didn't pass, Eggsy finds himself in a different position at Kingsman than he'd originally planned.

A Gentleman's Guide to Popping One's Cherry by callay (E, 12k)

Eggsy squirms under Harry's hands. “Stop being a gentleman and fuck me.” “Eggsy,” says Harry in a low voice. “I’m going to be a gentleman and fuck you.”

our vintage misery by fideliant (E, 23k)

On a difficulty scale of one to saving the world, love shouldn't be this far off the charts.

down dark tides the glory slides by fideliant (E, 24k)

You only ever truly hurt the ones you love.

dig in your fingers by kirkaut (E, 43k)

The lack of a silver suppository has set Eggsy upon a certain path. The way that Eggsy looks, dripping wet and half naked, sets Harry on another.

Patience and Sheer Determination by blacktofade (E, 47k)

Harry goes undercover to infiltrate the circle of a corrupt overlord and is given Eggsy, a young prostitute, as a token of goodwill. Harry has to live with Eggsy and keep him safe, while maintaining his cover.

Legends & Legatees by Fahye (E, 52k)

"You want to make sure I jump when I'm told?" he demands. "It'd better be you doing the telling, Harry."

[dragonnarrative-writes]

im the anon who sent that gaz ask and omg kyle's interlude was so good!!!!! im just giggling thinking of kyle wondering how much does she know? did she catch on somehow? fuck I have to take her out quick before she finds out how many projects ive finished and the whole time miss new girl is like. wow this guy fucking sucks at his job i want him gone from my hospital >:(

mans thinks shes gonna file a case with a police and she just thinks he's incompetent as shit

I'm so tickled. That's exactly what's happening.

CW: discussions of death and dying, autopsies, medical neglect

There’s something going on on the cardiac floor that you just… can’t quite put your finger on.

This isn’t the first hospital you’ve worked at, but you’re also new to urban healthcare, so you don’t want to rock the boat by being paranoid. But traffic from the cardiac floor is… steady. You’ve read the papers, know the stats like the back of your hand. And the cardiac floor is perfectly in line with expected trends. Every. Month.

There are fluctuations, of course. Plus or minus three to seven lives is nothing remarkable in cardiology. Macabre, maybe, but true. But that’s unnatural. In the seven months you’ve worked here, you’ve seen waves elsewhere in the hospital. The plastics floor had a month with zero deaths followed by a month of a persistent infection sweeping through the otherwise reasonably healthy patients. Oncology has seen a steady decline in patients sent your way, thank goodness. Even emergency and intensive care aren’t as fixedly consistent as the cardiac floor.

When you wonder about it aloud to the director, Dr. Martins just shrugs. “We have a good team up there. Very good at keeping things clean and double and triple checking their work.”

“But if that’s the case, then the number of deaths should be going down,” you point out.

Dennis gives you a rueful smile. “That’s not always how human bodies work, unfortunately. You know that.”

You do know that. Which is why the consistency grates against your nerves. So you decide to do a little digging.

The name that comes up the most often in the chart notes is one Kyle Garrick.

That’s actually not 100% accurate. He’s charting exactly the way he’s supposed to. And no nurse has complete, individual access to patients 24/7. But every dying patient he has access to is… perfect. Their blood work, labs, vitals, prognosis, medication adherence and refusal is almost too-the-letter, textbook precise.

The most obvious answer is that Garrick, and probably a couple of other nurses on the floor, are fudging the numbers.

The idea is infuriating. You hate the way the administrators keep changing medical record systems just as much as the next person, but inaccurate charting is a safety issue. People can, have, and do die because someone writes down the wrong timing for medications or assumes that a patient’s vitals are unchanged. If anything, this is probably worse than that. The fact that everything is so pristine probably means that some patients are just being written off. The nurses might be deciding who gets the excellent care the hospital is known for and who gets neglected.

You stay three hours late investigating the next cardio patient that ends up in your morgue.

After examining the body and reading, rereading, and re-re-re-reading his chart, you find it. A stutter in the dosages of blood thinners, a slightly higher blood pressure reading from someone who isn’t nurse Kyle fucking Garrick. Just enough evidence to have you testing the body with an aspirometer almost too late. And there it is. A fatal air embolism.

You want to scream, but the dead man doesn’t deserve that.

Three weeks later, sipping from your water bottle, someone calls into the office. “Knock knock.”

Dennis practically lights up. “"Good morning, Kyle. Been a bit since you've come to see us. Care for some tea?"

Your eyebrows shoot up. Dr Martins hates unexpected visitors. Then you look over your shoulder, and you understand. Even old queens aren't immune to pretty privilege. The man that’s leaning in the doorway is gorgeous. Maybe its because you work with dead bodies all day, but his eyes and skin seem to glow, even under the fluorescents.

"Can't," the man says, apologetically. "Just dropping someone off."

"Well, at least let me introduce our new nurse!"

The fact that you’re wiping crumbs off of your mouth over a paper plate is the only reason no one sees your face fall when you hear him say, “Nice to meet you. Kyle Garrick.”

[psiroller]

cheesecake date (◡‿◡✿) (18+)

slight cw for disordered eating irt chilchuck's weight management possibly being an extension of his self loathing (im being a little dramatic sorry its really not that serious here they are just boys sharing a gay meal)

another piece of a larger fic ive been working on, a more freeform, relationship-oriented sequel to break the lock

The idea had been to linger around the tavern long enough for the rest of the party to wander out on their own, but Laios’ entrée arrived and Falin had made herself quite comfortable across the table from Chilchuck. Laios munched away cluelessly at his croquette as Chilchuck slumped further and further behind the protective shield of his beer stein.

“Falin,” Marcille whined. “Are you really going to chaperone them all night?”

Chilchuck’s eye twitched and he considered, not for the first time over the course of this eventful night out, just bailing and walking home on his own. If he tapped out now, Falin would probably back off, he wouldn’t have to try to make conversation with Laios, and everyone could move on with their lives, but he also wouldn’t maybe get his dick wet, so.

“I just want to know Laios is going to be okay,” Falin said, slow and deliberate. Chilchuck could feel his movement speed and defense dropping. Could a cleric debuff somebody without chanting or touching them? Falin was an exceptional mage, of course, but that wasn’t exactly reassuring.

“I’ll be fine,” Laios said, giving her an affectionate punch to the shoulder. “Really. Chilchuck and I were just going to—discuss the hunt, hash things out. Go over strategies to keep this kind of thing from happening again.” Chilchuck’s eyebrows raised. Even if nobody was buying it, it was a more graceful attempt to skirt the obvious implication than he would have given Laios credit for. “You’ve been wanting to catch up on The Daltian Clan with Marcille, right?”

Falin’s judicious gaze shifted to Laios; Chilchuck sucked in a breath of air, suddenly aware of how badly his lungs hurt. Marcille, meanwhile, shook Falin’s shoulder.

“Y-yeah! I have a new relationship chart drawn up and everything. We haven’t had a girl’s night in forever, Falin, please?”

Falin softened, closing her eyes gently. “Very well.”

The mood had gone icy, but Laios was undaunted. He cut out a long slice of his croquette and plopped it on Chilchuck’s plate, which had accumulated a few peanut shells over the course of the evening and little else.

“Ah.” Chilchuck waved the helping away. “I’m watching my—” “It’s a special occasion,” Laios said. “Go on.”

Chilchuck leered at Laios, took a rebellious sip of his ale before indulging him. He stabbed a hitherto unused fork into the cutlet and took a big bite out of it. His sour expression softened up as he chewed.

“Not bad,” Chilchuck ceded, and Laios seemed suspiciously happy about that. Falin stood up from the table, and Marcille hiked up her skirt to jump from the bench. She was trying to play it cool, but there was a certain giddiness in Marcille’s restrained smile that Chilchuck recognized.

“We’re meeting up next week at the usual time, right?” “That’s the plan,” Laios nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on job postings over the weekend, so I should have a lead by then.”

Marcille and Laios grinned at each other in an unspoken agreement as Marcille looped an arm around Falin’s elbow. “See you then!” she giggled, tugging Falin along. Chilchuck decided to fixate on the delicate crust of the pork cutlet instead of whatever that meant; there were a few spices he recognized from home, some rosemary rubbed into the pork.

 “See you around, Chilchuck.” A heavy hand clapped on Chilchuck’s shoulder and shoved him playfully, nearly making him choke.  “Don’t be too rough on the guy, alright? He’s learned his lesson.” Namari let out a raunchy laugh when Chilchuck whipped around, scandalized. Laios didn’t flinch; he dropped another slice of his croquette onto Chilchuck’s plate.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Red pulsed at the edges of Chilchuck’s vision as he was redirected off of Namari’s back to Laios’ face, flushed from drink and sporting an easy smile. Chilchuck’s blood pressure was beginning to become a problem here. “They make the breadcrumbs in house.”

“Melini pork is something else,” Chilchuck muttered around his mouthful. “It’s fattier here than it is back home. Pigs are living free and easy in this climate, I guess.”

“It’s really interesting how the environment an animal is raised in affects the meat,” Laios said, staring off into the blurry space just beyond their table. Chilchuck grimaced as he realized what he’d just done to the conversation. “Up north, the pork’s tough. We have long-haired, hardy pigs. They get lean and mean and muscular once the winter comes.”

Chilchuck chuckled, despite himself. “You were raised on a pig farm? That explains a lot.”

“We had a variety of livestock,” Laios shrugged. “I guess it still counts as being raised in a barn, though. I slept in the hayloft quite a few times.”

Chilchuck snorted into his ale. “I don’t get you,” Chilchuck leaned forward onto the table, not having to go very far, and folded his arms on the damp, yeasty wood. Laios, for whatever reason, leaned in with him.

“You’re not the first person to tell me that,” Laios laughed, a painful edge to his smile.

Chilchuck’s throat went dry, and he washed it down with more ale. Laios reeled in the plate of cheesecake he’d been saving for dessert. The frozen raspberries on top had melted a bit, pink juice staining the immaculate eggshell white of the cake itself and pooling in the center of the plate. He thought about it for a second, then pushed it over to Chilchuck.

“You want the first bite? You paid for it.”

Chilchuck swallowed hard and coughed up some panko. “Why are you feeding me like some kind of—never mind. I have to stay light on my feet. Keeps me from triggering pressure plates inadvertently. You eat it.”

Laios cocked his head quizzically, his flushed high cheekbones pressed into his knuckles. He held out a clean fork, handle side out. Safety first. “A bite’s not going to kill you, Chilchuck. You gotta put weight back on before we head back in anyway.”

Chilchuck opened his mouth to yell, but something stopped him. Laios waggled the silverware expectantly, and Chilchuck snatched it out of his hands. He stabbed straight down the middle of the slice, through a soggy raspberry and the wedge of cake, and carved out a piece, getting the most out of his begrudged portion. Laios watched unblinkingly as Chilchuck wrapped his chapped lips around the tines of the fork. Chilchuck’s eyes glittered.

“Well?”

“It’s alright,” Chilchuck shrugged, quickly stealing another bite before handing the fork back to Laios. There was a smug look on his face that Chilchuck wanted to wipe off. Laios finally had a piece and melted when it touched his tongue.

“Tastes more than alright to me,” Laios hummed. “You’re funny.” “Funny how?” “It’s just cake, Chilchuck.” Laios passed the fork. “You bought it, you like it, but you can’t say so.” “Are you calling me a coward?” “I’m saying that we can share. It’s not such a big deal.”

Chilchuck grumbled something in his mother tongue. He scooped up another piece and focused on the sour tang of the cream cheese instead, the delicate crumbled crust soaked through with fruit juice.

“It’s probably the best cheesecake I’ve ever had,” Chilchuck admitted. Laios clapped his hands and cheered.

“There you go! Wasn’t that nice?” “It’d be nicer if you could shut your cakehole so I can enjoy this in peace.”

Laios grinned. “Why’s it so hard to admit what you want?” Chilchuck’s eyes rolled, but he wasn’t getting up from the table. He chewed on an extra-large piece and passed the fork back to Laios to finish it off. Laios took his time to savor the last, eyes closed and mind distant from the overwhelming chatter around them, drunken jeering and bubbling laughter.

“Most people don’t ask,” Chilchuck said. Laios’ eyes opened. “So I’m asking. What do you want?”

Chilchuck flushed from his ears to his throat and slammed the last of his ale.

[blackheart-6]

noelle holiday age progression chart

without height lines

explanations of designs:

hi yall

so, i actually finished this drawing like a week ago lol. but i didnt want to post a bunch of drawing in a row, and then i got sick, so i havent been able to post it till now!

its my imaginings of what noelle looked like as she grew up, and a potential adult noelle design! ill explain my thought processes about these designs below, if anyones interested 😁

i also plan on doing one of these with dess, but this one was pretty difficult, so it might be awhile before that (unless yalls are interested in seeing it?)

first off, im not 100% sure ill keep using all these designs. some of them im not that happy with (im no good at designing outfits 😔) but i just went with them so i could finish the drawing. so if anyone has any alternative outfit ideas for any of her ages, id be interested in seeing/hearing it!

secondly, something that may stick out to yall for all the designs is how tall she gets. its the same height i normally draw her with, but given how i usually draw her by herself you cant really tell how tall she is! i have 3 main reasons for why i headcanon her as this tall: deer are pretty tall irl, so having her be tall makes sense in my head; i just like the look of her being super tall, it makes me happy lol; and third, i personally also headcanon the holiday family as boss monsters (i think ive explained this headcanon before on here, so i wont explain again, unless someone is interested ^^). so yeah, she ends up being 7 feet tall as an adult, the second tallest in her family!

also, i gave all her children forms stripes in some way, as a reference to when monster kid in undertale says they can tell frisk is a kid because of their stripes!

now onto my explainations for individual drawings!

theres nothing really to say about her baby design. the only thing i did that might be new is give her faun spots! they are most plentiful on her baby form, but they persist until shes in her teens, i would say (on here you cant see them after age 7, but thats just because i imagine they are mostly on her back). and i gave her a cute lil onsie that says a-deer-able! if you guys cant read it ^^

this outfit i made for her toddler design is actually an outfit ive used in the past! i wonder if yall know what drawing it was? its pretty much the same as it was there, i just added a stripe to the shirt. i felt like overalls are so reminiscent of childhood, i had to give at least one of her designs them! i also added a little mistletoe to the front pocket, to make it more christmas-esque. and i gave her some bandaids, just cause.

7 years old is one of the designs i really struggled on, and im still not happy with it. i dunno if ive said this yet, but i headcanon noelle to be trans, so at 7 is when i decided she started realizing it. so here i gave her long sleeves and pants, to show how shes more hidden now because shes unhappy with herself, if that makes any sense? i was also trying to make her look a bit like a nerd, with the button up and khakis, just because its funny. but yeah, ill probably end up changing this design at some point :P

11 years old was one of the easiest to do, considering how ive had her design for this age for awhile lol. one thing i did change was going from 2 red/white stripes to one, but ive done that before, so it wasnt something entirely new. i also gave her a smile and closed eyes, cause shes happy being a girl 🥰. other that that, its the same, so yeah, thats it for this part

okay, this next design is a fairly different looking one than all the rest, but i have my reasons! at this point in noelles live, dess has gone missing, so i wanted to show her being sad and stuff. i also gave her shoes and long sleeves because she probably goes out looking for dess when she can, hoping to find a lead 😭. but outside of in-story stuff, this outfit is based off of an old one i drew, but its fairly edited, so i wouldnt be surprised if no one recognizes it even if they have seen my old stuff. she has straight hair here, to show how unhappy she is (idk what it is about straight hair it just feels sad) and because i wanted to give her different hair varieties on this progression chart. i gave her antlers 2 prongs each at this point, because the way i see deer monsters, their antlers show their growth/aging, so youll see them getting bigger and having more prongs as the chart continues.

this outfit for 15 is another one i dont like. i tried to make it similar to her current outfit, but still pretty different. im not even sure what precisely i dont like about this outfit, it just doesnt feel that good. for this one i gave her leg warmers because i used to (and sometimes still do) draw her normal outfit with them. i gave her the curly hair she has as a callback to when i used to draw her hair like that! but yeah, ill probably end up redoing this one too

for 17, i just gave her the normal outfit, so it was easy ^^. in game i think shes 16, but close to turning 17, so i just went with 17 here to fit the +2 age pattern thing i had going on. i also gave her an extra horn prong than i normally give her, just to show age once again

finally, her adult design! i dont like this one either lol. i spent so long trying to think of what outfit to give her, but i couldnt come up with something i liked >.< so i just gave her something simple. i feel like once noelle graduates high school and probably goes to college she branches out more and tries things her mother never let her do, which is why i gave her an outfit like that, that has a crop top and a shorter skirt. also, yalls might recognize the hair style i gave her, i drew a potential adult noelle before and i gave her the same hair ^^

i think thats all for the post! i probably have more thoughts that im just not thinking of, but its fine for now. i hope yall enjoyed the drawing, and if you have any question or comments or whatever, go ahead and say them!! if youve made it this far, have a cookie, you must be hungry after reading so much ^^ 🍪

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

ive been meaning to ask, who are the four heroes of yore?

ive seen posts that say that uther, icarus, and celestine are 3 of them.

who is the fourth one?

I'm currently revamping the lore a bit...(WIP) But I'll try to explain this the best I can... Galacta is the fourth... it's a result of a Bootstrap Paradox.

Another person who had trouble placing for the rewrite was Galacta Knight... (second place to Sir Arthur). He, too, had a villain role in the original story (you can tell that here), but as I got to writing it more... the villain role didn't fit him anymore... (there were just better villains in the story now).

I didn't have any problems writing him as a good guy (unlike Sir Arthur, who I was extremely attached to being a villain) and had no problem changing his role in the story... but the problem was where to put him.

But thankfully modern Kirby games have given us a cornucopia of delicious Galacta Knight lore & material... and after some touching up on some modern Kirby lore (after my years of absence) and the moment I found out Galacta had the tile "Temporal Warrior"

I knew exactly how I was going to work him into the story!

Keep reading for spoilers & a long explanation of lore. (P.S. Sorry about the grammar mistakes...)

You see, the Ancients had sent Galacta Knight back in time to try to stop & prevent Void Termina's creation (since they saw Termina's dangerously close to reawakening...), but it was this very act that ensured their demise...

So, as the story goes...

The first gen. of Heroes of Yore wasn't known as the Heroes of Yore back then. They were just Four Knights who simply served the first Ruler of Dreamland. (:3)

(image chart I found on the internet so that way you get a short \ run down of what I'm aiming for)

Morpho Knight, Galaxia (before they were trapped in the sword), Sir Orpheus (who became Papi), and Popopo. They created the four pillars of the galaxy ... four shining examples of what astral should be. Aka, The Four Virtues/ Cardinal Virtues ...

(I'll explain to them another day that the post will be too long if I do that.... anyways)

However, tragedy struck when Popopo went rogue (caused by the ruler of Dreamland) and transformed into his Soul Form (which is now known as... Void Termina). And in his rampage, he wiped out a good portion of the astral population...

The remaining three were thrown into the heat of battle, trying to stop their corrupt friend... And, of course, this is where the Ancients were able to send Galacta Knight in the heat of battle.

Of course, the three heroes welcomed this "divine intervention" however, that was a big mistake... they weren't aware of Galacta Knight's tampering. And wouldn't you know it... they kicked just as they were close to winning~

Basically, the curse (which causes the wielder and its power to get dangerously unstable) was in full swing once he was at the highest peak of his power... which resulted in Galacta Knight's Dark form (in short, Sir Uther & Sir Icarus are the reason why GK has this dark form...)

And guess what... this curse spreads to the remaining three, but affects them all differently (having varying results), and they would not feel the full effects of the curse until Galacta Knight was long gone...

(Which screwed them up all separately, each in their own special way: ... causing Morpho to flee to Yomi to escape the pain of it, Orpheus to kill his lover, and Galaxia to become a sword~)

But for right now they very much destroyed the upper hand they had

The battle went off the rails, and time was running out for Galacta Knight... and before he could do anything else, the magic that was keeping him there ran out. All they could do before he was transported back was seal Void Termina... and buy themselves time...

This resulted in Void Termina's current state.

And the negative energy that this fight caused eventually brought forth the creation of Nightmare...

And due to the reason why Popopo went rouge the first place...The Remaining three heroes & the other astrals... never forgave her. And so she disappeared into the night and was never seen again... abandoning the throne and her people.

And out of guilt and shame, she had written the Book of Legend.

To warn the future generation of Void Termina's terrror... She was the original founder of the Ancient's faction... to prevent a tragedy like this from ever happening. However... this only ensured it, as she describes "Galacta Knight as the Aeon Hero" that came to save them from their... not knowing that she pretty much solidified their doom.

But after the calamity caused by Void Termina, as well as the spreading of Nightmare's power & creation. The positive energy was at an all-time low, causing the manifestation of Astrals to be extremely difficult...

Resulting in a dime a dozen being born with wings... and promptly being taken out when they had newly been manifested by Nightmare... (a few other tragedies happen, resulting in Morpho's fleeing to the Yomi... & Galaxia's imprisonment leaving...)

The Ancients believed if the Four Heroes of Virtue could be brought back together again... surely it would bring about peace once more...which would result in more astral being created (just like the good old days), thus officially giving them (the next four idealized heroes) the name the Heroes of Yore.

Very much romanticizing, the four of them as such godly beings... causing the Ancients to try and mold the remaining astral to these standards of the glory days. Believing they were preparing for doomsday when in reality they were creating... producing the most toxic lunatics, astral kind has ever seen Sir Uther & Sir Icarus (my little trash babies love them)...

Sir Orpheus was the only one left of the original four... the ancients had planned to install him as leader (once everything had settled down). Placing Uther as his right-hand man, his one and only apprentice... that was supposed to be the case...

That was supposed to be the case, but Sir Orpheus promptly abandoned his duties as the soon-to-be leader to be with his lover and shortly after killed her accidentally...

And guess who ends up sitting on the seat instead, a spot Uther was all too happy to take. And to ensure that this never happened again, they made sure to denounce Sir Orpheus and made sure everyone knew of his tragedy. ( And also to make sure he couldn't take the spot back should he return.)

But as his name Orpheus suggests, you can guess what this man tries to do and fails miserably to... and as a result became Papi.

All the Ancients could do was wait for the "Aeon Hero" to manifest and bring the end and stop Void Termina's creation from ever happening... This is why the Ancients were so certain that Galacta Knight was their savior, all due to being everything the book described... so technically, they were right, only realizing the bitter truth later...

Galacta Knight was not the prophesied hero but rather "the herald-angel-paradox" that caused the current timeline. And this is why Morpho Knight is after Galacta Knight in the KBASW for revenge for corrupting the others (Morpho Knight included)!

That is how Galacta Knight's the fourth and why he regrets his life choices

[movingmusically]

Caught Feeling - Chapter 11

Synopsis:

A sleepless night leaves Y/N grappling with the growing distance between her and Hank. As her day unfolds, the weight of uncertainty and loss settles in. When Hank finally reaches out, Y/N realises that things between them may be more complicated than she thought.

Word count: 4,690

Masterlist

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, but it did nothing to chase away the heaviness that had settled in my chest. I hadn’t slept well, if I’d slept at all. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Hank—stumbling, drunk, and so far from the man I thought I knew. I’d never seen him like that before, it felt like something had cracked inside him, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t reach him.

I knew something had shifted recently, ever since that night at the bar with Natalie. But we’d only been together for a little over a month, and I’d brushed off the little things—his hesitation, the way he’d seemed distant when Natalie called him a “total catch.” He’d laughed it off at the time, but I’d seen it, that flicker of something behind his eyes. Doubt.

Last night had been a disaster. I’d managed to get him home, barely. He was so drunk, I couldn’t even get a coherent sentence out of him. And now, I was left wondering what the hell had gone wrong.

I glanced at my phone. Still nothing. No messages, no missed calls. Just silence.

I felt the ache of uncertainty, twisting tighter with each passing hour. I kept asking myself if this was just his way of pulling back, of deciding he didn’t want things to go any further. We hadn’t been together long, so maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought. Maybe I’d read too much into the connection we had. But it didn’t feel that way. This felt different—special, even if it was still new. I wasn’t ready to give up on that, not yet. But what if he was?

Pushing the thought away, I forced myself out of bed. I had a shift at the clinic, and if there was one thing that could distract me from the mess in my personal life, it was work. I threw on my scrubs, grabbed my bag, and headed out, the dread still lingering at the edges of my mind.

The clinic was already busy when I arrived, the usual bustle of appointments and emergencies filling the air. I threw myself into the work, trying to push away the thoughts of Hank, but it was hard. My mind kept drifting back to last night, to the image of him barely able to stand, his words slurring together.

I moved through the motions—checking charts, giving medications, talking to worried pet owners—but none of it felt real. It was like I was operating on autopilot, my body going through the motions while my mind was somewhere else entirely.

Then, just after lunch, the shelter brought in a dog. The moment I saw him, my heart sank. He was emaciated, ribs visible through his matted fur, his breathing shallow and weak.

“He was abandoned,” the shelter volunteer said, her voice tight with worry. “We found him in a yard. He’s barely hanging on.”

I nodded, my throat tightening as I knelt beside the dog. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, I saw something there—a spark, a fight still left in him. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Maybe we can save him.

The next few hours were a blur of frantic activity. IV fluids, oxygen, medications—I threw everything I had at him, desperate to pull him back from the brink. Every time his vitals dipped, I felt my heart race, my chest tightening with the fear that we were losing him.

For a while, it seemed like we might have a chance. His breathing steadied, his heart rate picked up, and I started to believe we could save him. I clung to that hope, trying to convince myself that we were turning a corner. That he might pull through.

But just as quickly as it had come, that hope slipped away.

His body gave out, collapsing under the weight of too much neglect. I could see it in his eyes—the spark that had been there before was gone. He had nothing left to fight with.

I stood there, my hands trembling as I watched him slip away. We’d done everything we could, but it hadn’t been enough. It never felt like enough.

I don’t know how long I stood there, staring at the lifeless body on the table. My throat felt tight, my chest heavy with the familiar ache of loss.

I’d seen animals die before—it was part of the job. But today, it hit harder than usual. Maybe it was because I’d let myself believe he had a chance. Or maybe it was because, deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was losing something else too.

Hank.

I tried to push the thought away, but it stuck to me like a shadow. No matter what I did, I couldn’t escape the gnawing fear that I was watching something slip away, something I couldn’t save.

I pulled off my gloves, tossing them in the bin, and took a shaky breath. The clinic was still buzzing around me, but I felt disconnected from it all. Like I was moving through a fog, the noise and movement around me blurred into the background.

It wasn’t until I was finally heading out the door that I glanced at my phone. The screen lit up with a message, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw Hank’s name.

I’m sorry about last night. I have the night off. Can we talk?

For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the words. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or terrified. Part of me had been dreading this conversation, but I knew we couldn’t avoid it. I needed to know where his head was at, why he’d been pulling away. Why he had let things get this bad.

I typed out a quick reply, my hands trembling as I hit send.

Yeah, come over when you can.

As I started walking home, the weight of the day pressed down on me. The loss of the rescue dog lingered at the edges of my mind, blending with my fear of losing Hank. I didn’t know if I could handle another loss, especially not him.

When I heard the knock at the door, my heart jumped into my throat. I stood there for a moment, staring at the door, trying to steady my breathing. This was it. The conversation I’d been dreading all day. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it, but I couldn’t avoid it any longer.

I opened the door to see Hank standing there, looking just as tired and worn down as I felt. He gave me a small, almost apologetic smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey,” I replied, stepping aside to let him in. The air between us felt thick, heavy with everything unsaid.

Hank walked into the living room, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced around. He looked uncomfortable, like he didn’t know where to start. I sat down on the couch, waiting for him to join me. He hesitated for a second, then sat across from me, leaving a noticeable gap between us.

The silence stretched out, neither of us wanting to break it. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“You wanted to talk?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

Hank nodded, but he didn’t look at me right away. He stared at the floor, his hands resting on his knees as if he was trying to figure out how to explain himself. Finally, he let out a long sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “About last night. About… all of it. I know I messed up.”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my emotions in check. “Yeah, you did,” I said softly. “What happened, Hank? Why did you get like that?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just… it’s been building up. Everything.”

“Since Natalie?” I asked, the question hanging in the air between us.

He nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed on the floor. “Yeah. I didn’t realise it at first, but when she said that stuff… called me a ‘total catch,’ I just… it hit me. I’m not a catch, Y/N. I’m a mess.”

I blinked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

He finally looked up, his eyes filled with a mix of guilt and frustration. “You don’t know everything about me. You don’t know the shit I’ve done, the mistakes I’ve made. I’ve been trying to hold it together, trying to be someone I’m not, but it’s getting harder.”

I felt my heart tighten in my chest. “Hank, you don’t have to be perfect. I never expected you to be. I just… I need you to talk to me. I need you to let me in.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away again, his hands balling into fists on his knees. “I’m scared,” he said quietly. “I’m scared that once you know everything, you’ll leave. You’ll see what a screw-up I really am, and you’ll walk away. And I can’t… I can’t handle that.”

I shook my head, feeling the tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “You don’t get it, Hank. I’m already scared. I’ve been scared since the minute you started pulling away. You not talking to me, not letting me in… that’s what’s hurting me. Not your past.”

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes filled with so much pain, it made my heart ache. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to push you away.”

I reached out, placing my hand on his arm. “Then stop pushing. Let me help.”

For a moment, it seemed like he might. His eyes softened, and his shoulders relaxed slightly under my touch. But then, just as quickly, the walls went back up.

“I’m going back to San Francisco,” he said suddenly, his voice flat. “Just for a week or so. I need to clear my head.”

I pulled my hand back, shocked. “You’re leaving?”

He nodded, his expression pained. “Yeah. I need space. I need time to figure things out.”

I stared at him, my mind racing. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He was just… leaving? After everything, after this conversation, he was still walking away?

“What about us?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “What happens when you come back?”

He hesitated, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice thick. “I just… I need to get my head straight before I drag you down with me.”

A lump formed in my throat, and I had to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill over. “And you think leaving is going to fix that?”

“I don’t know what else to do,” he said, sounding defeated. “I’m a mess, Y/N. I don’t know how to fix it.”

I shook my head, the frustration bubbling up inside me. “You’re not a mess, Hank. You’re just scared. But you’re not going to fix anything by running away.”

He sighed, leaning back against the couch, his eyes closing for a moment. “I just need time.”

A part of me wanted to scream, to tell him that I needed him to stay, that I couldn’t handle him leaving. But another part—the one I hated admitting existed—whispered that maybe this was my fault. Maybe I wasn’t enough to keep him here. I’d always been too quiet, too reserved, not good enough at communicating. I’d been through this before. People left when they realised I wasn’t what they wanted, when I didn’t say the right things, or open up enough.

I took a shaky breath, my voice breaking slightly as I asked, “Is this because of me? Am I the reason you’re pulling away?”

Hank’s eyes snapped open, and he immediately shook his head. “No. God, no, Y/N, this isn’t about you. It’s me. It’s all the shit I’ve been carrying around for years. I just didn’t want you to see it.”

I bit my lip, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. “But that’s the problem, Hank. You’re not letting me in. And I keep wondering if I’m not enough. If I’m not saying the right things or being the person you need. Every time someone’s left before, it’s because I wasn’t enough.”

His expression softened, and he reached for my hand, his touch warm and gentle. “That’s not it. You’re more than enough. I’m the one who’s screwed up here. I’m the one who’s afraid you’ll figure out that I’m not good enough for you.”

He sighed, leaning back against the couch, his eyes closing for a moment. “I just need time.”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “What about Bud? Do you want me to take care of him while you’re gone?”

His eyes opened, and for the first time since he’d arrived, he looked surprised. “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” I said softly. “I want to help, Hank. Even if you’re leaving.”

He gave me a small, tired smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” I replied, my voice firm. “But I want to.”

He nodded, his smile fading. “Thanks. I’ll figure out the rest when I get back.”

*

The next morning came faster than I expected. I woke up to the sound of a soft knock at my door. My heart skipped as I sat up, already knowing it was Hank. He’d messaged me late last night, saying he’d drop Bud off before heading to the airport.

I pulled on a hoodie and opened the door to see him standing there, holding Bud’s carrier. Hank looked as worn out as I felt, shadows under his eyes and an exhausted slump to his shoulders.

“Hey,” he said quietly, offering me a small, almost apologetic smile.

“Hey,” I replied, stepping aside to let him in.

Bud was quiet, peeking out from the carrier, and as Hank set it down, the silence between us felt thick, like everything from last night was hanging in the air. Neither of us knew how to navigate this. It wasn’t just Bud that was being left behind—it felt like pieces of Hank were too.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking around the room as if searching for something to say. “I’ll be back in a week or so… depending.”

“Yeah,” I said softly, not knowing what else to add.

There was a long pause, both of us standing there, not quite able to say goodbye but knowing it was inevitable. I felt like I should reach for him, pull him into a hug or at least tell him it was okay—but the words wouldn’t come. I didn’t know how to offer comfort when I was just as lost.

Hank exhaled deeply, his eyes lingering on me before he picked up his bag. “Take care of Bud,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I will,” I promised, my throat tightening.

For a second, it seemed like he might say something else—something more—but then he just nodded and walked toward the door.

Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “Hank… I’m here, okay? Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here.”

He froze for a moment, his hand on the door handle, and without turning around, he said, “Thanks, Y/N. I’ll keep that in mind.”

And with that, he was gone.

I stood there for a long time after the door closed, the silence in the apartment feeling louder than it had ever been. Bud meowed softly from his carrier, pulling me out of my thoughts. I crouched down, opening the door to let him out, and he padded over to me, rubbing against my leg.

At least I wasn’t completely alone.

I needed air. I needed to move. Anything to clear my head from the suffocating fog that had settled over me. I pulled on my running shoes and grabbed my keys, hoping that maybe a run would help me process everything—or at least make me feel something other than the numbness that had taken root in my chest.

The morning was cool, the crisp air biting at my skin as I started down the street. I focused on the rhythm of my feet hitting the pavement, the steady thud-thud-thud that echoed in my ears. For a while, I let myself get lost in the movement, trying to outrun the thoughts swirling in my mind.

Was he really going to come back?

I didn’t know. And that terrified me.

It felt like he’d left more than just Bud behind—he’d left a part of himself. The part that had started to open up, the part I was falling for. I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe… maybe he wouldn’t come back. That this “week” was just a way to let things drift apart, to leave without saying it out loud.

I picked up my pace, pushing harder, the burn in my legs distracting me from the ache in my chest. But no matter how fast I ran, I couldn’t escape the fear that was gnawing at me.

Without realising it, I found myself slowing to a stop. My breath came in sharp bursts, my legs aching from the exertion. I leaned forward, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. It wasn’t until I straightened up and glanced around that I realised where I was.

Paul’s.

The faded neon sign hung above the door, the windows dark. I hadn’t even noticed I’d ended up here. Of all the places. I stared at the entrance for a moment, memories of the nights I’d spent with Hank at this bar flooding back. This was where we’d met, where everything had started.

And now, it felt like I was standing outside a closed chapter.

I let out a shaky breath, debating whether to keep running or just turn back. But before I could decide, a voice called out from behind me.

“You’re Y/N, right?”

I turned around to see a woman walking toward me, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing a Paul’s T-shirt. Her eyes were curious, though there was something in her expression that I couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah,” I said cautiously. “That’s me.”

She gave a small smile, stopping a few steps away. “I thought so. I recognise you from the photo Hank showed me. I’m Yvonne.”

I froze for a second, trying to process the fact that this was her. Yvonne. She and Hank had a thing, though it was over long before I came into the picture. But meeting her in person? I hadn’t expected this.

“Right, yeah. I’ve heard about you too,” I said, shaking her hand.

She smiled again, but there was something unreadable in her expression—an understanding, maybe. “Don’t worry, it’s all good. Hank and I are friends now, just friends.”

I nodded, not entirely sure what to say. Standing here, in front of Hank’s work, talking to Yvonne of all people… it was surreal. “I didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

She laughed softly, a sound that felt surprisingly genuine. “Well, I work here sometimes too. So, you know, bound to happen eventually.” She paused, tilting her head slightly. “You okay? You seem a little… out of it.”

I forced a smile, feeling the weight of the last few days bearing down on me. “Just… a lot on my mind.”

Yvonne gave me a knowing look. “Hank?”

I hesitated but nodded. There was no point in denying it. “Yeah.”

She smiled knowingly, as if she understood. “Yeah, I get that.” She glanced back at Paul’s for a second before turning her attention back to me. “I’ve seen you with Hank a couple of times. He talks about you.”

I blinked, unsure of how to respond. I hadn’t expected her to mention Hank right away, especially given their history. “He does?”

“Yeah,” she said with a small shrug. “I mean, we’re friends now. We’ve been through our ups and downs, but we’ve stayed close.” There was a flicker of something in her expression—an old memory, perhaps. “He’s not exactly great at opening up to people, but… He’s been different since he met you.”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by her honesty. “Different?”

Yvonne tilted her head slightly, studying me for a moment before she spoke again. “He’s been happier.”

I frowned, not sure if I believed her. “Happier? He hasn’t seemed that way lately.”

She let out a soft sigh, crossing her arms over her chest. “I know he’s going through something right now, but trust me—he was. Ever since you came into his life, there’s been a change in him. I’ve known Hank for a long time, and I’ve never seen him talk about anyone the way he talks about you.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected. I hadn’t realised how much I needed to hear that—that Hank had talked about me, that I mattered to him in ways I hadn’t known.

“I don’t know what’s going on with him right now,” Yvonne continued, her voice gentler. “But I do know one thing: he cares about you. A lot. I don’t think he’s trying to push you away because he doesn’t want you. It’s just… Hank’s got his demons. He’s always been that way.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I knew Hank had been carrying something—something he hadn’t shared with me yet. But hearing it from Yvonne, someone who had known him for longer, made it feel more real. More urgent.

“He hasn’t opened up to me,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “Not fully. I don’t even know what it is.”

Yvonne looked at me, her gaze softening. “Don’t take it personally. Hank doesn’t open up to anyone, not really. He’s always been good at keeping things to himself. But whatever it is, it’s not about you. Trust me on that.”

I nodded slowly, appreciating her reassurance even if it didn’t make the ache in my chest any lighter. “It’s hard, though. Not knowing if he’s ever going to let me in.”

Yvonne shrugged. “That’s Hank. He’s complicated. But from what I’ve seen, he cares about you. A lot. More than I’ve seen him care about anyone in a long time.”

I swallowed, trying to push down the lump forming in my throat. “I just wish I could help him.”

She gave me a small, sympathetic smile. “You are helping him. He probably just doesn’t know how to let you see it yet.”

For a moment, we stood there in silence, the noise from the street filling the space between us. Then Yvonne glanced back at the bar, her expression softening. “Just… don’t give up on him, okay? Hank’s a good guy. Messed up, sure. But he’s good. He just needs time.”

I nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. “I won’t. I mean, I don’t want to give up on him.”

Yvonne smiled, this time with more warmth. “Good. Because I think he’s finally met someone who can keep up with him. And that’s saying something.”

As she stepped back toward the door, she gave me one last look, her eyes filled with a quiet kind of understanding. “Take care of yourself too, though. It’s easy to lose yourself when you’re trying to help someone else.”

With that, she disappeared inside, leaving me standing there on the pavement, my mind buzzing with everything she’d said. I didn’t know what the future held for me and Hank, but for the first time in days, I felt like I wasn’t completely alone in this. Yvonne’s words lingered with me as I turned and continued down the street, the weight on my chest just a little bit lighter.

The apartment was quiet when I got back, the familiar space feeling both comforting and isolating at the same time. Bud padded over to greet me, his soft purring a small but welcome distraction. I knelt down, scratching behind his ears, grateful for the company, even if it wasn’t the one I truly wanted.

After my run and the unexpected conversation with Yvonne, my mind was still spinning. I’d hoped that being out in the fresh air, moving, would have cleared some of the fog, but instead, it felt like everything had only gotten more complicated. Yvonne’s words kept echoing in my head, offering a strange sense of comfort, but also bringing more questions.

Hank cares about you.

Did he? I knew that he did, but it was hard to hold onto that when he kept pulling away, closing off whenever I got too close. I thought about everything we’d shared in the past month—how easy it had been in the beginning, how natural we’d felt together. But now… now it felt like I was chasing after something that was always just out of reach.

I sighed, flopping onto the couch, still in my running leggings and hoodie. Bud jumped up beside me, curling up against my leg, his warmth seeping through the fabric. I absentmindedly ran my fingers through his fur, my thoughts drifting back to Hank again.

Yvonne had said not to give up on him. That he needed time. But how much time? How long was I supposed to wait for him to figure things out? It wasn’t like I expected him to have all the answers right away—God knows I didn’t. But the silence, the distance… it was suffocating.

I stared at my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen. I’d been checking it obsessively since this morning, half-expecting some kind of message from Hank. But there was nothing. And the longer it stayed that way, the more I wondered if maybe I should be the one to reach out. Let him know that I was still here, even if he wasn’t ready to be.

Taking a deep breath, I opened my messages. The blank text box stared back at me, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t want to push him, didn’t want to make him feel like I was waiting for an answer he couldn’t give yet. But I also didn’t want him to think that I was walking away. Because I wasn’t.

I typed slowly, choosing my words carefully, each one carrying the weight of everything I hadn’t been able to say in person.

Hey. I just wanted to let you know that I’m giving you the space you need. But I’m still here, Hank. Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m here.

I stared at the message for a long moment, my thumb hovering over the send button. Was this the right thing to say? Would it make things worse? I didn’t know. But I couldn’t keep waiting for something that might never come if I didn’t let him know where I stood.

With a deep breath, I hit send.

The message disappeared, and with it, a small weight lifted from my chest. I’d done all I could for now. The ball was in his court. I couldn’t control what he did next, couldn’t force him to open up if he wasn’t ready. But at least he knew I wasn’t giving up on him. Not yet.

Bud stirred beside me, stretching out before curling back into a tighter ball. I leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling, my mind still tangled in a mess of emotions. I didn’t know what would happen when Hank came back. I didn’t even know if he’d respond to my message. But for the first time in days, I felt a small sense of peace—like maybe, just maybe, things weren’t completely out of my control.

As the evening slipped into night, I found myself clinging to that small hope, trying to believe that giving him space didn’t mean losing him for good.

Masterlist

[midwesternwitchery]

Hi I am obsessed with your Konig story I come back to re-read it all the time! Makes me kick my feet lol when do you think the next chapter will be? My cage bars need some gnawing

-🌮

Well Hello there. I know I suck Ive been gone such is life. Anywhooooo here's a thing. I hope you like it taco! I had almost given up on this fic as I have been kinda hard on myself lately just one of those impostor syndrome things so THANK YOU for your ask I love it when people interact in any way but literally this made my day! If you have any suggestions please feel free to send them my way anon or not!

Die Sonne - Part 5

a/n- Again I'm not totally happy with this and I swear smut is coming. MDNI

All of her belongings had been packed up carefully over the last few days. She groaned rolling over in bed, it was tempting to lay around in bed for another hour but she had things to do, places to be. Oh shit. She sat up in bed. It was today. THE day. She had been struggling a bit internally. The more time that passed from her meeting at the agency, the more she was doubting her decisions. 

She couldn’t dwell on it now though as whats done is done. She had let her omega make the decision for her. One whiff of his intoxicating scent and her omega was practically preening. It would have been embarrassing but she couldn’t help it, honesty it didn’t seem like he minded though. Her thoughts drifted back to the way he seemed to zero in on her even through the blindfold. His instincts have to be off the charts considering his apex status. 

She rolled out of bed heading straight for the kitchen for a cup of coffee first thing. Once she had that started she began picking out her outfit for the morning. She’d be meeting him for the first time without the blindfold. She wanted- no needed to look her best, she really wanted this to work. Settling on a light flowing skirt, a long sleeve scoop neck top, and her knee high boots she was ready. She didn’t want anyone with her on her way to his home. She was nervous enough she didn’t need to add another person into the mix. Her things had been sent over to his home yesterday, the rest went to storage until she decided what she was doing with them. 

She pulled up the address on her phone, fingers shaking slightly, either from her anxiety or too much coffee. He lived near the downtown center. Her eyebrows raised a little when she realized he was in one of the larger high rise buildings. Grabbing her bag and coat she navigated her way to the subway. The ride wasn’t long, then she was back out on the street, another few minutes walk and she found herself standing at the entry to his building. 

The doorman opened the door gesturing her inside. She clumsily thanked him as she stepped inside, making her way to the elevators. Glancing back down to her phone to check the floor number she pressed the button and whoosh she was off.

Ding.

Ding

Ding

The doors opened to a small entryway. There was another door ahead of her. She stepped forward trying to keep her breath steady, and knocked.

A few moments passed with no response. Anxiety clawed at her throat as she checked the address and floor number triple checking she was at the right door. She was. So she knocked again. Cringing the entire time.

The door opened and all she could see was skin. Wet skin. Slowly she looked up taking in the towel around his waist, the water running down his chest and abs. Craning her neck she looked up at his face realizing neither of them had said anything and she had been caught staring. 

“Maus?” His voice rumbled through his chest. 

She was still staring. She had to stop staring. She shut her eyes for a moment in a futile attempt to get her self under control, “Hello König. Did I interrupt you?” Glancing down at his chest again she blushed. He on the other hand seemed to have a mixed reaction to her. His chest puffed up a bit but quickly he deflated backing away from the door gesturing for her to enter. “A moment Maus.” He stuttered out, “I- Ich komme gleich wieder” Then his back was turned as he fled further into the apartment. 

It seemed the big bad Apex Alpha was nervous too. That put her at ease a bit, at least they were evenly matched in that area. She stepped further into the apartment down a short hallway which led into the open floor plan that was the main living space. A large plush couch sat on one side a large TV across from it. The kitchen and dining sat off on the other side of the living area another hall way branching off to the side. Assuming she had interrupted his shower she decided to make her self comfortable on the couch until he came back out. 

As she rounded the couch she noticed the entire space seemed off. Her brow furrowed as she sniffed the air, then after looking around a bit she sniffed the couch cushion. It smelled sterile almost, like everything was brand new and staged. A small huff left her. He didn’t have any belongings displayed that looked personal. Maybe this was a new place she reasoned, but the file she had on him stated this address as his primary for the last 3 years. Before she could think on it further he reappeared fully dressed this time. His hair was still 

‘I can show you around if you like?’ He motioned behind him back down the hallway he’d come from. Mina nodded and rose from the couch approaching him. He turned flicking the hall light on and stepping to the side motioning for her to go first and explore. As passed him she hesitated feeling the heat radiating from him, his scent was so strong spicy and clean from the shower. A low rumble startled her out of her daze, eyes flying wide she looked up at him realizing quickly she all but had her face pressed up against him sniffing him. 

His eyes were pure predator, sharp and focused on her. Mina sucked in a breath. Shit. That definitely didn’t help anything she thought as his scent enveloped her senses. She felt like she was on the edge of starting her heat, but that was a ways off still right? She couldn’t think straight enough to even begin to do the math right now. 

His hand came up and circled her throat, not squeezing, just resting there. It felt … possessive but also protective like he was laying some claim on her. Regardless it cleared her mind a bit as he pressed her back into the wall behind her. His dark eyes devoured her as he bent his head down to hers. Pausing briefly he spoke, his voice thickly accented. ‘I’ve though of nothing but this since you left that room, but I do not want to scare you Maus….many fear me. I do not want that from you.’

Blinking up at him confused Mina was trying to make sense of his words. ‘But I’m not scared of you.’ He smiled at her softly. ‘Good girl.’ he murmured and lowered his head fully into the crook of her neck. She let out a soft gasp of air as his sharp nose pressed to her scent gland, sending shocks of shivers down her body. Her arms raised to grasp at his shoulders while his other arm snaked around her waist raising her up to his height. Instinctively her legs raised to wrap around his waist trying to hold her self up as he pressed into her further. 

He groaned deep in his chest as his hips settled against hers. She buried her face into his neck inhaling his scent. His arms tightened around her, she should be panicking at that, but god it felt so good to be held by him. She should push him away, not that it would do much good against his much larger frame.

The truth was she should do a lot of things but for once she just didn’t want to. She liked the way his body felt against hers, the way he smelled, the way he looked at her like she was precious to him because she was Mina not because of her designation. She could almost envision a life with him, but that could just be the hormones. 

She arched her back, pressing further into him. This seemed to snap him out of it a bit and he stiffened for a tense moment, then raised his head and began to lower her to the floor. She tightened her legs around his waist, resisting his attempt to release her. His eyes shot to hers, it felt like he was looking straight into her soul. Finally with a heavy breath he said, ‘I have a room prepared for you. They said you would want your own space.’ 

‘Oh. I see.’ she murmured quickly releasing her legs from his waist suddenly embarrassed at her actions. What the hell was she doing? She practically threw herself at him, and she definitely climbed him like a damn tree. Her face flamed a bright red as she turned from him straightening her hair and clothing out. She didn’t want to look at him and let him see how much he had affected her. He had accepted her as a mate but she couldn’t help but feel a slight sting of rejection. 

Before she could escape to lick her wounds in peace his hand reached out and grasped her chin, tilting her face up to his. Stubbornly she kept her eyes on his chest, refusing his silent request to look at him. König ducked his head forcing her to look at him. After a moment he clicked his tongue, ‘Ah little Maus do not be sad. This is not a no.’ He paused for a moment looking for the words. ‘This is a not right now. You have just come to my home, alone at that. I wish for you to settle in, relax, there is no pressure here for you. You are safe with me.’ He said the last bit with a little growl. 

Relief washed over her at his words. He wanted her but he was right. She needed rest and to get accustomed to her new surroundings and mate. She nodded to him gesturing to the hallway, ‘I’ll follow you this time.’ she smiled at him and for the first time he smiled back like really smiled. And god was it brilliant. 

He showed her to her room down the hall to the right, there were two doors opposite each other. He gestured to the door on the left, ‘My room is here and yours is…here.’ He opened the door to her room gesturing for her to enter. All of the air left her body. Every surface was covered with flowers, a wild rainbow of color in every direction. Beyond that the bed sat in the center covered with overstuffed pillows and fabrics of all types, some soft and silky others more like a plush fur. To the right was the door to an attached bathroom with a sunken tub and on the left was a massive walk in closet. 

She turned in a circle in the center of the room, breathless at the effort he had put into her room here with him. When her eyes found his he stepped forward to grasp her face in his large palms, his thumbs brushing the tears she hadn’t noticed spilling over. ‘Maus why do you-Ah what is the word?- tears? No. Cry! Why do you cry?’ his words spilled out so fast she began to laugh. His face morphed into one of real concern at my emotional state. 

‘No I’m fine please I’m sorry I don’t mean to worry you its just… No one has ever put this much effort into anything for me. I guess its all a bit overwhelming.’ He nodded in agreement as he wiped the last of her tears away. He touched his forehead to hers before whispering, ‘Go. Take a bath and relax. I’ll have dinner ready when you’re done.’ Then he was gone leaving her to do as he said.

She waited until she was sure he was far enough away before squealing like a little girl and dropping face first into her new bed. Maybe this could work after all. 

Translations -

Maus - Mouse

Ich komme gleich wieder - I'll be right back

[all-pacas]

"Hey," Chase says, leaning heavily against the nurse's station to take the weight off his legs. He's so tired his eyes are itchy, and he tries to hide a yawn with a smile.

"Didn't get a lot of sleep last night?" Cameron says icily, not looking up from her charting.

"Not really," he admits, leaning more of his weight on his arms, his spine shooting daggers up his torso and legs going numb.

She glances up and doesn't like whatever she reads into his expression. "Busy night with some new babe? I heard you're dating a nun."

Great. "A postulant. Former." Some part of his traitor heart — well, Cameron probably just thinks he'd corrupted an innocent or something. "What's crawled up your ass?" he asks sourly.

"Nothing," Cameron lies, throwing a file to the side and picking up another. "What do you want?"

"Crutches," he says.

"No," Cameron says.

He gapes at her. "No?"

Cameron stands up in a huff, avoiding his eyes as she gathers files. "The ER isn't a — a video store, you can't just come here three times a week borrowing medical supplies I need for my patients." She pushes past him in a hurry, and he almost falls over, fingers clutching at the countertop, trying to stand upright again and hobble in her wake.

"The hell's gotten into you?" he snaps.

"I'm drawing a sensible boundary. One I should have drawn years ago," she snaps. "You need to take responsibility for your own—" He takes two steps after her and slips and starts to fall, legs refusing to support him, and Cameron must see it out of the corner of her eyes because next thing Chase knows she has him caught, more or less holding him up — pain is twisting and burning all up and down his torso and he's not quite sure of the details, can't do much more than cling to her.

She urges him, half carries him, into one of the ER's bays, shooing off a nurse who tries to help, and he collapses onto the bed with a pained grunt, his head swimming. "Shit," Cameron says, her ice queen act entirely gone. "I'm sorry. I'll get you some —"

"You're mad I'm seeing someone," he says, head swimming: it had suddenly become clear as he'd been clinging to her, even with the pain and the embarrassment: something about her arms around him, the hand not holding him up pressed to his heart. She used to do that a lot when he was in recovery, lay a hand on his breast, rest her head on his sternum — just making sure, she'd joke, worry lining her face, waking from bad dreams, until he'd worried (convinced himself) it was all she saw, all she cared about: the still-pink scar, reassuring herself he was still hurt —

Cameron's expression tightens. She clips an oximeter on his finger and watches the monitor pick up his pulse — too fast, slightly arrhythmic, damn — "I'm going to start an IV," she decides.

He closes his eyes. After a minute, Cameron comes back with the bag and tubing. "Are you mad?" he asks, since she never answered the first time; her expression is tense, jaw tight.

She inserts the needle into his arm smoothly. "It doesn't matter," she says shortly.

"Maybe it does," he says, letting his eyes close again.

"It doesn't mean anything," she says, her voice brisk. His heart-rate is already settling down, and his arm feels cold as the painkillers begin to flow into his veins.

He dozes for a few minutes, until his fellows come to find him, worried (or curious) about where he'd gone, knowing exactly where to look first. He's too tired to deal with them or their dramas or new theory on their case, just shoos them away with a trust your own judgements, you'll be fine: realistically, that will keep them bickering for at least the rest of the afternoon.

Later that night, he calls Moira and breaks up with her.

[kindercelery]

Who are your favourite English monarchs after the parking lot King ?

(Edited 1/17/2025)

1. Richard III is obviously number one, S tier king, great guy, just a victim of terrible terrible propaganda that has gone on looong after he’s died. For an example, any book Thomas Moore has done on Richard. I have one of them, and the History of Richard III is basically just a big diss track, considering many of the conditions Moore said Richard had can be easily disproven by looking at his skeleton (I.e. hunchback, having a limp, and a poor arm). And he was lowkey badass! Fought for the crown till the very very end. And none of that “My horse! My horse!” Bullcrap, I’ve read that his last words were apparently, “I will die king of England! Treason!” So yeah he was pretty sigma. And everyday I learn more about him, the more I love him.

2. Next on the list would be charles II of course (I know very basic), however I don’t agree with him cheating on his wife to get a heir at all. Everything else he did was absolutely perfect. Hair 10/10, Personality 10/10, Demureness and Mindfulness 10/10. He also has the absolute best rap song of the 21st century.

3. After Charles II, would be George IV. Woah, what’s he doing there? HE HAS EVERY RIGHT TO BE ON THIS BANGER LIST!!! Look guys, you’d be pretty pissed too if you were Catholic and had to divorce your wife (which is practically unheard of for a catholic) for some other lady just so your dad (who made buckets if money from what is now the Thirteen Original American States) could pay off your debt. And he’s so based for banning her from his coronation. Hair 8/10 (-2 for balding), Height 10/10, Based levels off the charts/10, Cutie patootie 10/10, Buckingham Palace 10/10.

4. Next (and first English Monarch) would be William the Conqueror. I love the guy! Super based and cool and stuff, I even have a copy of the Domesday book!! He exploded after dying though which must’ve been disgusting for those at the service.. I mostly like him because I like drawing him (though I’ve only ever posted one drawing of him). His beard is fun to draw.. myehehe.. and the book is cool. Cool death 10/10, cool book 10/10, cool dude 10/10!

6. George I.. is pookie hehehe.. He (like his descendants) wasn’t very popular. He didn’t really know much English — opting to speak French or German instead — but that’s just how he is! He was born in Germany, the first of the Hanoverians (I.E., George IV and George III). His wife nor son liked him… not many did… BUT YOU KNOW WHAT???? I DO!!!!! Pookie 10/10, hair (wig) 10/10.

[hyuge]

Angel, Baby

#DasterWeek24 | Day One: Amnesia | AO3

Hosted by: @nucarnievents | Rated: T | 576 Words

Dante wakes up in the hospital with no memory of Aster. Aster finds it hilarious.

“—He’s going to be a little groggy and disoriented over the next few hours. Don’t be surprised if he has a tough time remembering who you are or where he is. Anesthesia is known to cause temporary memory loss.”

Aster sits next to the hospital bed as the doctor goes over the care routine. They’ll reexamine Dante’s stitches in a few hours and if everything appears to be healing well, he can be discharged by supper time. For now, they just need to let the morphine work its way through his system. When the current IV drip is gone, they’ll see about lowering his dosage of painkillers. Aster watches the doctor walk out of the room as the nurse enters. They speak briefly, then she checks Dante’s stats and updates his chart with his current vitals. He sits on the bed quietly staring at Aster with wide, mismatched eyes, pupils blown from the drugs in his system.

When the nurse leaves, Dante finally speaks. “You’re so pretty,” he slurs. “You’re like the prettiest person in the entire world. No! The whole country!”

Aster purses his lips, stifling a laugh. “Is that so?”

Dante nods. “I can’t believe the prettiest person in the universe is sitting next to my bed. I must be dead.”

“Not dead,” says Aster.

“Are you an angel? Where are your wings, pretty angel?”

“Do you know who I am?” asks Aster, ignoring the ‘angel’ question.

“An angel?” repeats Dante.

Aster shakes his head and holds up his hand. There’s a thin, rose-gold band around his finger.

“Oh my god, you’re married! The prettiest angel in the world would be married. I can’t believe I tried to flirt with a married angel.” Dante’s lashes darken with tears, and he buries his face in his hands. “There’s no point in living now.”

Aster’s cheeks ache from the smile he fights back as he continues to suppress his laughter. It isn’t fair to laugh but oh boy does he want to. “I have a pretty hardheaded husband. He doesn’t like to listen to me and thinks he can do everything on his own.”

Dante lifts his head; tears track down his cheeks and his eyes are blazing. “You should leave him. Leave him and marry me. I’ll treat you right. Please, sweet angel?” He’s begging. Actually begging. Dante never begs. It’s unbecoming.

Aster decides to spare him any further humiliation and reaches for his hand. He lifts Dante’s left hand up to show the matching ring on his finger. He gasps.

“I’m married! I can’t believe I was flirting with a stranger, and I’m married. I’m sorry, angel. I can’t be with you after all.”

Aster can’t contain himself any further. He keels over, laughing into his legs with tears in his eyes. When he lifts his gaze, Dante is staring at him, perplexed. Aster taps both their rings to show they match, and it slowly starts to click for the man in the bed.

“We’re married?” he asks in disbelief.

Aster nods.

“Oh my god. I can’t believe I’m married to an angel.”

Dante’s gaze grows distant as he muses to himself over the revelation that they’re married. He mutters incoherently, then drifts off to sleep again. Aster shifts in his chair, turning away from Dante to Eiden who is standing in the corner of the room. “Did you get all that?” he asks.

Eiden taps his phone before pocketing in. “Every last second.”