#like his wife and child die and he gets the severance procedure

[1nterspace-2]

Malevolent x Severance would go so hard. I need to put Arthur Lester in a box. And he would soooo get severed~

There’s too much stuff that coincides. It’s begging me to draw some au stuff for it.

[letthewhumpbegin]

Didn't See That Coming - Avengers

Fandom: Avengers (Age of Ultron) Characters: Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner Prompt: This was written for the prompt "Taking the Bullet" off my @badthingshappenbingo card. (Card at the bottom of this post). Word count: 3178 Warnings: mentions of gunshot wounds, blood, medical procedures.

A/N: this is set during Age of Ultron, and holds some spoilers for that movie. Also, this is AU to the ending of Age of Ultron, so if you don't like that, don't read 😉

He saw the child cowering among the rubble, and he saw Ultron's aircraft getting closer. As was the rain of bullets Ultron sent from his weapons without any pause.

Clint made the decision in a split-second. The risk was high that one, or more, of Ultron's bullets was going to hit him, possibly even fatally harm him, but he just could not allow that little boy to be slaughtered in front of his eyes. No, he had to at least try and do something.

Clint jumped out of the small jet that was evacuating people out of Sokovia, and ran to the child. He immediately took the little boy in his arms, pressing him close to his body. It was a desperate attempt to shield this young life from the rain of bullets he knew was coming.

The bullets impacted on the ground all around him and came ever closer. Clint expected to get hit any second now, when he felt the strangest sensation. It felt almost as if he was being blown away by a sudden gust of wind.

Clint slowly opened his eyes when he heard the rain of bullets subside, but the pain of being hit stayed out. He looked at the little boy still in his arms, who also seemed to be unharmed. "What the...?" Clint mumbled non-understandingly. He released the boy from his protective grasp, who immediately ran away to its mother.

It was only then that Clint's eye fell on Pietro standing a few feet away from him. Well, standing?

The young man was swaying on his feet, and all over his body crimson stains appeared on his clothes. "You didn't see that coming?" Pietro tried to keep up his bravado, but his voice was laced with pain. "Oh, no..." Clint mumbled brokenly. He realized immediately that it had been Pietro who had pulled him out of the line of fire, and that it was Pietro who had caught the full wad of bullets instead.

"No, no, no..." Clint scrambled to his feet. He was just able to catch Pietro in his arms, as the young man's legs gave out on him. "Why?! Why would you do this?!" Pietro smiled faintly up at Clint, showing already bloodstained teeth. "Couldn't watch you get killed, now could I?" "You should have thought about your sister!" Clint had never felt so powerless. "She tells me... you have wife and children..." Pietro's speech was getting more difficult with every word.

Clint felt as though he had been dealt a blow to the stomach. Pietro's last remark got to him way more than he thought anything ever could.

Suddenly, a new-found willpower and determination washed over Clint. "You're not going to die," he said to Pietro, "hold on, I'm getting you to help." Clint lifted Pietro off of the ground and into his arms. He turned on the spot and made way for the aircraft as fast as he could.

"Wait! Hold it!" Clint yelled at one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents locking the aircraft and readying it for take-off. "I've got a severely injured one here. I need you to take us straight to the helicarrier. This man needs urgent medical care." "Yes, sir!" The agent slammed the door of the aircraft shut behind Clint the moment he set foot aboard.

Clint stumbled over to the first row of chairs he came across, and carefully lay Pietro down on them. For the first time, Clint truly looked at the young man's injuries and was horrified by what he saw. He counted at least a dozen gunshot wounds all over Pietro's body. All the wounds were of different levels of severity, but at least half of them could prove fatal by themselves alone. It was a miracle the kid had pulled through as far as he had already.

Pietro had lost consciousness by now. He was taking panting, irregular breaths that did not quite seem to reach his lungs, and sometimes a soft groan in pain escaped his bloodstained lips. His body twitched from time to time, which was undoubtedly caused by shock setting in.

Clint sank to the ground by the chairs. He had his hands pressed firmly onto Pietro's torso, trying to keep pressure on as many of the bullet wounds he could reach. But despite his efforts, Pietro's blood still spilled onto the chairs, and was staining Clint's hands and clothes. Clint momentarily closed his eyes, sadly shaking his head. "Why did you do this, kid...?"

"Is there anything I can do to help, sir?" The agent Clint had spoken to just now approached quietly. He stared horror-struck at the bloody mess that was Pietro. "No," Clint answered wearily, "just get us to the medical post as soon as possible." "Two minutes out, sir," the agent answered, "and I took the liberty to inform Dr. Banner of your imminent arrival. He will be waiting for you when we land." Clint nodded, sincerely thankful for the agent's help. "Good man."

The two remaining minutes of flight felt like hours to Clint. Pietro's condition was critical, and Clint feared every irregular, hitched breath could be the kid's last. Clint wasn't sure how much longer Pietro would be able to cling to life, but he vehemently wished it would be long enough to get him to help. "Hang in there, kid, hang in there..."

---

The moment the aircraft's wheels touched down on the deck of the helicarrier, Clint took up Pietro in his arms again and immediately disembarked. He hadn't even fully set foot aboard the helicarrier, or Bruce was by his side.

"Oh my god..." Bruce was shocked to see the state Pietro was in and the extent of the injuries. "I thought they exaggerated when I was told he was hit over a dozen times." "Unfortunately not," Clint answered darkly.

Bruce quickly waved over a few nurses, who hurried over in their direction with a gurney. "Can you save him?" Clint asked, placing Pietro carefully on the gurney. "I don't know," Bruce answered honestly, "his injuries are extreme, and it looks like he's lost a lot of blood. I've got a team standing by to take him into surgery right away, but... we might already be too late."

Clint was expecting to be told that, but it still felt like he had been dealt another blow to the stomach. "Please, do what you can for him." Bruce nodded his head, before he followed the nurses inside.

---

Once in the operating room, a team of surgeons and nurses, including Bruce, started their work on Pietro. "Get an IV-line going," Bruce instructed, "start blood transfusions and get him under full anesthetic."

As soon as Pietro was connected to a heart monitor, a fast rhythm of beeps came from the machine. Bruce stared at it with a deep frown creasing his brow. This heart-rate was fast, way too fast, but at least it was a regular rhythm. Still, it came to show how dire Pietro's situation truly was. "Come on, people, work fast," Bruce encouraged the entire team of surgeons and nurses.

Bruce and three other surgeons surrounded the operating table, as one of the nurses cut Pietro's shirt from his body. The frown on Bruce's brow deepened even further at the sight of the bare wounds. It was a downright miracle Pietro was still alive! Bullets had struck into him in many places, and almost his entire torso was smeared with his own blood.

"Alright, everyone, let's work swiftly." Bruce stood at Pietro's left side, near his shoulder, and attended the wounds in that area. The other three surgeons each tended to wounds in the area of Pietro's body they stood closest to.

The four of them set to work on the almost impossible task of saving Pietro's life, but they would not give up on him until they had tried absolutely everything.

---

Bruce had never worked more swiftly in his entire life, but a lot depended upon it. He had already stopped the bleeding on three of the wounds and sutured them up. Just two more wounds needed his attention in his area. The other surgeons, too, made steady progress. At least half of Pietro's wounds had been attended to by now, but a few nasty ones were still bleeding quite freely.

Bruce cast a quick glance at Pietro's face. The Russian was extremely pale, and his blonde hair was plastered to his head by sweat and blood. Bruce noticed a few spasm-like twitches of Pietro's head. It was minute, but rapid enough for Bruce to fear that the anesthetic was already wearing off.

"Keep an eye on him." Bruce warned the nurse who stood near Pietro's head. "If that gets worse, you give him another dose of the anesthetic." "He's already at the maximum, sir," the nurse protested. "He has survived plenty of experiments on him," Bruce answered, "and his body works in strange ways because of it. Trust me, this will be the least dangerous thing that was ever done to him." "But, sir..." The nurse protested again. "Just do it. We do not need any of his rapid movements right now." Bruce spoke in a controlled way, but the finality of his order was clear.

Suddenly, one of Pietro's arms twitched, clearly noticeable for all persons in the room and much faster than anyone was comfortable with. "Now, please," Bruce urged the nurse. She nodded wordlessly and quickly injected another dose of the anesthetic into Pietro's IV line. The young man's twitching quickly lessened until he finally lay completely still again. "Alright," Bruce sighed, relieved, "if he even thinks of doing that again, you hit him with another dose."

Now that Pietro was under full anesthetic again, Bruce quickly checked the Russian's well-being on the monitors surrounding him. The heart monitor still showed a rhythm that was too fast to be normal, and his blood pressure was still alarmingly low.

"How are we with stopping the bleeding from the wounds?" Bruce asked the other surgeons in general. "I'm having some trouble here," one of the surgeons answered. He was indicating where a bullet had torn through Pietro's abdomen. "Okay, keep working on it," Bruce instructed, "and continue the blood transfusions. We need to get his blood pressure up."

Bruce watched the other surgeons work for a few seconds. Apart from the troubles they were still having, most of the wounds were treated and had stopped bleeding. Bruce took it as somewhat of a good sign that Pietro had pulled through so far, but he knew it could still go either way. "Come on, kid," Bruce quietly mumbled the encouragement, "if anyone can pull through this, it's you."

---

Everyone worked tirelessly on Pietro for over five hours, but finally the bleeding was stopped on all his wounds. The Russian had had to receive two more doses of anesthetic to fully keep him under during the operation, but it was a risk Bruce was more than willing to take.

The moment Bruce finished the final suture, a feeling of indescribable relief and exhaustion washed over him. Their mission had been to stop the bleeding and save the kid's life, and for now they had succeeded. Pietro was nowhere near out of danger yet, Bruce was well aware of that. There were still many things that could go wrong, and there was a very real chance he could still succumb to his wounds, but for now Bruce took this victory.

"Bandage all the wounds." Bruce passed around the final instructions. "And give him two more bags of blood. Transfer him to one of the private recovery rooms once you're done." "Will do," one of the nurses answered. "And keep a close eye on him," Bruce finished with a tired sigh, "we can't let him slip away now."

---

Bruce walked out of the operating room and quickly changed into his regular clothes. Undoubtedly a few people were waiting for news on Pietro.

As soon as Bruce set foot into the medical wing's waiting area, he was enveloped by a flash of scarlet. "Tell me," Wanda sobbed, her hands tightly holding onto Bruce's arms. Tears stained her face and her eyes were red from crying. "Is my brother still alive?" Clint stood a little further down the room, but looked equally worried and worn out. "He pulled through so far," Bruce answered, "but he's severely injured and weak. It's still too early to tell if he'll survive this." "Thank you," Wanda said softly, "I know you did all you could for him, and for that I am grateful."

"Can she see him?" Clint asked on Wanda's behalf. "You can," Bruce nodded, "they're taking him to one of the recovery rooms now." "I'll take you there." Clint put an arm around Wanda's trembling shoulders and slowly guided her away. "Thank you, Bruce," the archer said softly as he passed.

---

Clint guided Wanda to the recovery room. Pietro was under close surveillance, but had the room to himself. Wanda entered first. The moment she lay eyes upon her brother, she gasped audibly, clasping her hands over her mouth. She silently shuffled over to the bed and watched her brother as he lay there.

Clint kept a respectful distance, but even from a few feet away he could see the tears rolling down Wanda's cheeks. And he had to admit: seeing Pietro like this was no pretty sight. Bandages covered almost Pietro's entire chest, and where skin was visible there were electrodes stuck for the heart monitor. Both his arms had IV line in them, one for the blood transfusions that were still going on, and the other one for all the necessary fluids and medicine he was receiving. The blonde strands of his hair were caked together with dried up blood, and he looked altogether more dead than alive.

"What did he do to deserve this?" Wanda sobbed quietly. "He's a fighter," Clint said softly, "he won't go down easily." Wanda remained quiet and took Pietro's hand in hers. She stared at her brother's unconscious face and pale features.

"He was always the one protecting me," Wanda mumbled after a while of silence. "He risked his life before, but never like this." Clint watched her silently, as she clearly broke even further apart in front of him. "He would beat up the kids that picked on me when we were younger," Wanda continued, "he would chase them around the block, cursing and yelling at them." "Everything a brother should do for his sister," Clint said with the hint of a smile. "And now he might never do any such thing again." Fresh tears fell from Wanda's eyes and here words were barely audible now.

"Hey, hey." Clint rushed forward to sling a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Come on, now, you mustn't think like that." Wanda sniffled. "But I have to accept there is a chance he still dies." "Where there's a chance that he dies, there's also a chance that he lives," Clint comforted.

Clint guided Wanda to one of the chairs next to Pietro's bed and sat her down upon it. He knelt down in front of her, looking deep into her tear-filled eyes. "Sit here and be with him," Clint said softly, "I'll leave you alone with him, either way you need it." Wanda wiped some of the tears off her cheek, nodding silently. "If you need me, just send one of the nurses for me, okay?" Clint reassured her once more. "Okay," Wanda mumbled.

Clint silently rose to his feet and quietly exited the room, leaving Wanda alone with her brother.

---

At some point Wanda had fallen asleep in the chair by Pietro's bedside. It wasn't a deep sleep, more of a light slumbering, but at least it had calmed her down somewhat.

She was awoken by the sounds of someone entering the room. She opened her eyes to look at the newcomer, and found Bruce quietly closing the door behind him. "I'm sorry," Bruce spoke softly, "I didn't mean to wake you." "It's alright." Wanda hoisted herself a little more upright in the chair. "I wasn't really sleeping anyway."

Bruce walked further into the room and stared intently at the monitors surrounding Pietro. He shortly pressed his fingers against the pulse point of Pietro's wrist, and shortly rested a hand on the young man's chest.

"How's he doing?" Wanda asked nervously. "Well..." Bruce glanced at all the numbers and statistics on the screens once more. "Given the circumstances, I'm quite satisfied. His heart-rate is calmer, his breathing is stronger, and even his blood pressure is climbing to more healthy levels."

Wanda was about to ask more questions, when Pietro suddenly stirred. He fitfully rolled his head, mumbling something in a language Bruce didn't understand. "What's he saying?" Bruce asked Wanda, for he suspected that it was their native language. Fresh tears rolled down Wanda's cheeks. "He's asking for me-- if I've made it out of Sokovia."

Wanda gently caressed Pietro's arm. The moment her fingers touched his skin, Pietro leaned into her touch as much as he could. "Wanda..." "I'm here," she sobbed softly, "I'm alright, I'm here with you." Pietro stirred again, and this time he marginally opened his eyes, looking glassily up at his sister. "Oh!" Wanda gasped, bringing her brother's hand up to her face and kissing his fingers.

"Pietro?" Bruce inched closer to his patient. He had been expecting a lot, but not for Pietro to wake up so soon already. Even though it was only a state of semi-consciousness and Pietro looked utterly weak, this was more than Bruce could have asked for.

"Pietro?" Bruce asked again. It took a few seconds, but finally Pietro managed to somewhat focus his gaze on the doctor. "Can you tell me what year it is?" Bruce started the standard questions to determine the effect the loss of blood might have had on Pietro. "In whatever fucking year it was armageddon." Pietro's voice sounded slurred and lifeless, but at least he was interacting. Bruce chuckled softly. "Honestly now, please." "2015." "Good. And do you know who I am?" "Bruce Banner."

"Thank you. Rest up now." Bruce shortly rested a hand on Pietro's forearm. "I won't bother you with any more questions." He made to walk away and leave Wanda with her brother, when Pietro stopped him.

"Dr. Banner?" Pietro now fully shifted his gaze to Bruce. "Barton and the child? Did they make it?" Bruce nodded. "They're alive and well." Pietro smiled briefly, before he closed his eyes again. It only took a few seconds for him to glide off into either sleep or unconsciousness again. His short moment of wakefulness had taken a lot of him already, but he now knew it had at least not been for nothing.

Bruce looked over the monitors surrounding Pietro one more time. He slowly nodded in satisfaction. Things could still go either way for Pietro, but suddenly Bruce had a distinct feeling that everything would be fine in the end.

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[darkestspring]

What if Baelon ii and Maris were expecting their sixth child but it ends up horribly wrong like it did to laena? So aegon, aemond, and helaena uses this opportunity to get rid of her once and for all while Baelon is busy arguing with alicent and the maester as he refuses to go through “the procedure” on his own wife. Maris is just in severe pain and despair while knowing her unborn child won’t survive and just wants it to end. So she doesn’t exactly fight back when aegon and aemond drag her down to the dragonpit with Helaena trailing behind. She just screams at them to get it over with and just accepts her fate before Sunfyre, Dreamfyre, and Vhagar burns her alive as Baelon rushed in time to see her die. Shock and grief soon fills him when he realizes what his cousins just did. Like father, like son who just witnessed their wives burning.

it would be extremely painful. of course, baelon wasn't in love with maris, considering he'll always be in love with helaena (and aegon and aemond). but he cared for her greatly and he respected her so much.

she was the mother of his children, and his wife, no matter how arranged their marriage was.

so running in to see vhagar burning her is so extremely painful. previously, he was the only one who did not know of his three cousins obsession with him but now there's no denying it.

"Why?" He choked out, eyes staring into the spot where maris had been. "Do you have any idea of what you three have started. Lord Baratheon will need to be informed of his daughters demise, not to mention our children." He wanted to scream at them but forced himself to remain calm.

"She wanted to die, bael." Helaena's voice is soft. It was partly the truth, she had wanted to die but they took a certain amount of joy in killing her. "She begged us to kill her, we were only looking out for you."

Aemond and Aegon nodded along with her words and Baelon felt exasperated, his heart grieving. "The you should have gotten me. Now i have to explain to my children from 13 name days to 1 name day that their mother is gone. she will never come back."

They all felt guilt at his words but let him walk away, they all agreed it would be best to give it time before suggesting marriage and more babies.

But one thing was for sure. Baelon II was now aware of the obsession his cousins held for him and would need to proceed with caution.

[mosswillow]

The People You Love Chapter 13

A/N: Hey, look at me not being lazy and adding the chapter to Tumblr too.

Warnings and Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe, Eventual Smut, Protective Ben Solo, Alpha Ben Solo, Omega Rey (Star Wars), Mating, Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bond, Knotting, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Emotional, Hurt/Comfort, Dubious Consent, unconscious medical procedure (chapter 6), Emotional Hurt, Suicidal thoughts (very mild no actual planning) ch 8, Did I already mention emotional hurt?, Emotional hurt (once more for good measure.) Slow Burn, Implied/referenced attempted suicide (not described in detail) (not Rey) (ch 15), some violence, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted assault (ch 14)

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The seconds tick closer to midnight and Rey gets to work digging through her room. She finds a bag and fills it with some papers from her file, clothes, the money card Leia gave her, and toiletries. Minutes before it’s time to run the room becomes clear, like she put on a pair of glasses. It’s sharp and bright, every detail jumping out at her. The specs of dust in the air float around her and she stares at the room taking in every detail. Her head starts feeling light and she realizes she’s stopped breathing. There’s hesitation. Anxiety. Maybe it’s fear or maybe guilt, she doesn’t know. Her mind turns to what will happen to the Solo’s. She knows, even though she doesn’t want to admit it, that running away from them will fuck their lives up. The moment she leaves her room she’ll be doing something she can’t take back.

It takes several deep breaths and hyping herself up to cut the bracelet and climb out of the window. The climb down is easier this time. She hits the ground after a few short minutes and starts running, making it down the street before she has to stop to catch her breath. She feels elated, free and happy, the world is open to her.

Then the initial adrenaline rush dissipates and her heartrate settles. She’s left alone in a dark alleyway. It’s a sliver of freedom and she wonders if it will be worth it. She hopes so.

She makes her way to the closest bus stop and reads the map, running her hand over the spot where Finn and Poe’s house is. She knows it’s where she needs to go. It’s the only way she can think to get home.

“Where to honey?” A tired looking woman says.

Rey almost turns around and goes back. What if the letter says something she doesn’t want to hear? What if something terrible happens? She takes a deep breath and hands over her money card before climbing in a large bus to start her journey. The island was an illusion, it held a life that did not exist. The illusion is broken now and all that’s left is the reality that the facade was built around. Rey is tired of everyone knowing more about her than herself. Even if something horrible happens or if what she finds out breaks her heart she has to go. She can’t live her life knowing that there’s truth out there and she didn’t go find it when she got the chance.

-o-

It takes over twenty four hours to finally reach the charming little house she once knew. Rey was so focused on getting away that she hadn’t considered how it would feel to be back. As she stands outside hyping herself up she goes through a range of different emotions. Anger at first that they gave her away without even talking to her first. Then she feels a sense of loss thinking about how much she cared for them, how she felt loved and safe and like she was part of a family. She misses that feeling and it hits her that she may never feel that way again.

She waits until she’s sure they’re fast asleep before walking to the back door and trying the handle. It turns easily; they never did lock the doors. She tiptoes through the house and stops at a picture frame. It’s her, she doesn’t even know when it was taken. She picks it up and looks at it, almost feeling guilty about what she has to do.

“Your mate called, told us when you would be here. He wants you to call him.”

Rey jumps and looks over to see Finn and Poe standing across the room. She puts the photo down and makes eye contact.

“Are you going to call him now?”

“Do you want us to?”

“Does it matter?”

Finn slowly walks towards Rey and she backs up in response looking at Finn with distrust and heartbreak. He stops and slackens his shoulders.

“We should have told you before he showed up here, we were afraid you would run off.”

Rey crosses her arms and takes another step back.

“Why are you here Rey, are you ok?” Finn asks.

Rey looks back and forth between Finn and Poe before dropping her arms and giving up.

“My grandfather left me something on the island.”

There’s a pause and then Rey watches their eyebrows raise in unison as they understand.

“You need our boat.”

Rey nods.

“So you were just going to steal it?”

She nods again.

“I was going to bring it back after.”

“We could get in a lot of trouble for helping you, you know that right?” Poe says.

Rey walks over to the couch and plops down putting her face in her lap. Finn comes next to her and rubs small circles on her back.

“We’ll take you there,” He says quietly.

Rey pauses for a moment as his words wash through her. She feels a mix of relief and resignation. Even in the time she was on her own she still had to rely on others. She puts her arm around Finn and leans against him. Maybe relying on others isn’t a bad thing and fighting the instinct to form attachments only ends up leaving her hurt. She doesn’t trust Finn and Poe, at least not the way she did before but she also isn’t angry.

“Thank you.” She whispers

They don’t waste much time. Poe makes a sandwich for Rey and they hitch up the boat. It’s a long and cold ride to the island. Seeing land is a relief and yet Rey finds herself unable to move as they dock. The night she left was one the most difficult of her life. Flashbacks play in her head and she half expects a group of men to come running at her from the house.

“Do you want us to come with you?” Poe asks

“No,” She breathes before steadying herself and starting the walk to the house.

The island looks exactly the same and somehow wildly different than what she remembers. As she looks around at all the familiar rocks and trees she begins to understand that the island isn’t what’s different, She is. Her eyes have changed, giving her the ability to see the headache inducing complexity of shapes and colors that were blended and muddied before. Beautiful memories of her childhood sit beside the knowledge of lies and control. She can see it all and it overwhelms her.

It doesn’t take her long to find where the letter is hidden. She opens it with shaky hands and reads the last words her grandfather wrote to her.

-o-

Rey,

You probably have so many questions and I’ll do my best to answer them before I have to do what I have to do. I’m going to die now, I’ll make sure they kill me or I’ll shoot myself. I can’t be brought in and questioned. If they find you they’ll use you against me until I crack. There are people who count on me, what I know could bring down an entire organization.

You’re what’s called an Omega. The medication I give you suppresses it, but even with the medication it’s who you are. Omegas are kind and caring, meant to serve others. They’re also strong and resilient, I know you’ll escape this island. I’ve included directions to a safe house that I had set up just in case. Rey, I only have one month of medication for you. When it runs out you’ll go into what is called a heat. It will be painful but you’ll be ok. Do not leave the safehouse after you run out of suppressants. People will be able to tell you’re an Omega and you will be in danger. I have it arranged for someone to bring food and supplies to you for as long as you need it. You won’t have to worry about anything and can spend as much time as you need living there, even your whole life if you want.

There’s a family, the Solo’s. A man, Ben Solo, was assigned to be your mate when you were just a little girl. They’re a good family and one day when you're ready they’ll protect you and love you. There's a file about them at the safehouse. They’re the ones who are here now but their issue isn’t with you, it’s with me. They think that I’ve been hurting you for the past several years.

You’re probably wondering why, why didn’t I tell you about any of this.

Twenty years ago I made a decision that ended up haunting me forever. I gave the go ahead to kidnap the child of a politician, one who was my friend. My men tortured this child and sent him back to his parents broken. We needed to get a law passed that now feels so trivial. I lost my soul that day and five years later, in direct consequence to that choice I lost my son and his wife, your parents. They tried to take you too that night to return the favor, thankfully they didn’t succeed. That boy is now a man and what I didn’t consider 20 years ago is that I may have been creating a monster, and by monster I mean someone exactly like me. Be careful Rey, there are people in this world who want to hurt you. It’s not fair but life never is.

I brought you here after your parents died vowing to keep you safe, to raise you right and give you a childhood away from pain, one I hadn’t given your father. I was supposed to hand you off to the Solo’s when you turned eighteen but the day you presented as an Omega and I saw your pain I did something rash, I gave you my suppressants. I just wanted a little more time with you but as soon as my medication wore off all those feelings of inadequacy and failure to protect your father came crashing back. I let myself spiral into my Alpha biology. Even as I write this I feel a sense of intense need to protect you. I failed to protect my Omega and failed my child. I can’t fail you Rey. I kept telling myself that one day I would have to let you go but every time I thought about it I just couldn’t. It may be selfish but I couldn’t let go of you. It turns out that life isn’t worth much without the people you love, and I love you Rey.

I hope I did the right thing. I hope that when you come out of your hiding place and find this letter you’ll understand why I did everything I did.

I love you Rey

-Grandfather.

Rey lets the letter fall to the ground. She starts taking steps back until she hits the wall. She doesn’t know what she was expecting, for there to be some explanation that would make everything ok, that would refute everything she’s been told about him. It doesn’t.

What hurts her now is that she doesn’t feel anger. He was her captor, lied to her just as much as everyone else in her life. If he was standing in front of her now she would scream at him and lock herself away. She would run from the island and not look back. He’s not in front of her though, he’s dead, and she loved him. She feels deep and true love for someone who murdered, tortured, lied, a criminal. How can she love someone like that? Her chest tightens and she starts feeling lightheaded.

What if she had stayed hidden like she was supposed to that evening? What if she came out and found the letter, had time to process everything and decide when and if she wanted to call the Solo’s.

She feels tired and trapped. It doesn’t feel good to be back on the island, it feels just as much a prison as the Solo’s house and she wants to leave. She gathers the letter and directions to the safe house.

She has one more thing she has to see, hopefully she’s able to. Hopefully the cleverly hidden security system wasn't found during the ransacking of her home. She walks to the hidden cabinet and uses her thumb print hoping that it will let her in.

And it does.

-o-

“Where is she?” Ben asks.

“Don’t worry Solo, we’ll find your little Omega after we deal with him.”

Knight. She didn’t know he was there. She didn’t notice any of them that night, only Ben, only her Alpha.

“You can come nicely.” Knight gives a sly smile as he pulls out a gun

“Or not.”

Sheev pulls out a pistol in turn and Ben looks back and forth between the men.

“You have three seconds to leave before I start shooting… Three,” Sheev starts.

Knight smiles and Ben's eyes widen.

“Two,” He continues.

“Don’t,” Ben cries but it’s too late. The shot is firing off and Ben is standing there shocked, looking at the blood pouring out of sheev.

“One,” Knight finishes.

“You weren’t supposed to kill him.” Ben says.

“He was torturing your girl wasn’t he?”

“I wanted but… This is not… You aimed for his head… You murdered him.” Ben says. He looks away from the scene and his eyes land on something.

“Rey.” He breathes “Don’t you fucking go near her Knight.” He yells before running out of frame.

-o-

Rey doesn't even react, her mind won’t let her. She slowly turns off the monitor and walks to her old bedroom, looking around at the mess all over the floor. She finds her little stuffed stingray and stands there with it for a few minutes before walking all the way to the ocean.

She wades in, holds the stuffed animal to her chest, and lets herself feel. She feels everything all at once, from her parents death to the moment she stepped out of that window, the good and bad. There's use in objects that comfort, that remind someone of their past and where they came from. There’s also use in letting go. In realizing that there’s no going back and the only way forward is to say goodbye. In taking a quiet moment to thank an object before letting it go. It’s symbolic but sometimes symbolism can be so strong that it becomes reality.

“I love you,” She whispers.

Rey lets the little stingray fall into the ocean and be carried away and with it goes a weight she’s held in her for as long as she can remember.

She makes her way back to the boat, stopping when she sees a little flower. She leans over and picks it wavering with it for several moments before putting it in her bag.

“Did it go well?”

Rey settles in the boat and gives a small smile.

“Yes, I think so at least.”

-o-

Rey is exhausted by the time they arrive back. She doesn’t feel safe there though. The safe house isn’t far, a few hours to walk. She can make it, she knows she can. She may fall over from exhaustion by the time she arrives but she has to go.

“we can give you a ride wherever you need.”

“It’s better you don’t know where I’m going, safer that way for all of us.”

Poe disappears inside of the hose and Finn pulls Rey into a hug. Poe comes back and stuffs some food in her bag before joining them in the hug. He looks at her awkwardly.

“He wasn’t coming after you. He knew where you were. You used a money card Rey, they can be tracked.”

Rey bites her lip and looks down feeling dumb for not knowing that.

“I think he genuinely just wanted to know you’re safe. There was something he wasn’t saying, I don’t know.”

“Thank you.” Rey says as she pulls away.

It’s bittersweet, seeing them and now leaving. Rey takes a step back and then turns away.

“Stay safe Rey,” Finn calls out as she walks slowly down the driveway.

She turns back and gives one last smile and wave before turning on the road.

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Eight - Aftermath

Author’s note: This chapter has graphic descriptions of violence, as Andrea remembers a very specific episode of her abuse. If you sensitive to this kind of things, avoid the third part in italic.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes were hers. They were red and puffy, almost unable to stay open. It was obvious that she had been crying for days. I tried to call for her, but only a raspy sound came out.

“Don’t try to talk just yet.” I heard her instruct. “Your vocal cords must be sore from the tube.”

“She woke up?” I heard my father ask. “Andy, can you hear us?” He bolted to my mother’s side, allowing me to see his face.

“Andy, do you remember what happened to you?” My mother’s eyes shone again with tears.

I lied, shaking my head. I knew exactly what had happened. I wished that I didn’t.

“Do you need a blanket?” I felt Victor’s hand touching my shoulder. I turned my gaze from the jet window to face him, seeing concern in his eyes.

“I’m ok.” I quipped, turning to the window again. I could feel Victor watching me, but he didn’t speak another word.

“The pilot wants to let you know that we will be arriving in Loveland at 3 pm, local time.” We were informed by the flight attendant. “The duration of flight is estimated to be 11 hours. Should I prepare the bed?”

“Maybe for later.” Victor answered. “Put on some extra pillows for my wife as well.”

We sat in silence for a moment, as the flight attendant walked back to the booth.

“You have been very quiet since we left the clinic.” He held my hand. “Are you in pain? I’ll ask for a bottle of water so you can take an analgesic.” Victor motioned to press the CALL button.

“I’m fine, I’m just tired.” I rubbed my forehead. Victor lovingly took my hand, lowering it to my lap.

“That doesn’t mean tired.” He quipped softly. “But maybe you should take a nap. You’ll be more comfortable in bed.”

I laid down beside my husband, letting him wrap a protective arm around me. His hand took mine, drawing soft lines on my skin.

“Are you comfortable?” I heard him whisper.

“Yes.” I closed my eyes, trying to end the conversation.

“Do you need another pillow?”

“I’m sleepy.”

I felt his lips touch my hair.

“Good night.”

I got the pen and paper from my mother’s hand and placed it on my lap, writing furiously on it.

“The baby?” I wrote.

My mother sighed heavily, and took my hand.

“Andy…” She trailed off. I slapped the paper hard with my hand. Why couldn’t she tell me already? I knew he was dead, no embryo would survive that beating. But I needed to hear it.

“It’s incredibly rare, but it can happen to a woman to have a false positive pregnancy test.” My mother explained. “There was no baby. You weren’t pregnant.”

That was simply ridiculous. There was a baby, I was sure there was a baby. I had symptoms, my breasts were swollen, I was late, there was a positive test…

“I have something to tell you, Andrea.” My mother warned me, with tears in her eyes. “But you have to promise me you’ll be strong.”

I nodded, without knowing exactly what I was agreeing to, or what kind of strength would I need.

“You had severe uterine bleeding.”  She held my hand tightly. “They had to perform a hysterectomy.”

I woke up, enjoying the soft sun and the earthy colors of our bedroom for the first time in a week. We were back in Loveland. I had left in Switzerland the dream of giving Victor a biological child.

What exactly does one do when one’s dream is gone? Until our trip to Switzerland, my infertility was a reality, but with the help of science, it could still be overcome. The dream was dormant, but still alive. Now, not even all the fighting in the world could make me have a child of my own. The dream was dead. The only thing left to do was to bury it, and move on.

Without much thought, I got up from bed and did what I did every morning, on a normal day: I went to the kitchen. And predictably enough, Victor was finishing cooking, the scrambled eggs and toast already on the table, a mug with coffee placed by my usual seat.

“Good morning.” He announced, as he added to the table some sliced fruit. “How are you feeling? Any pain?”

“The cramps seem to be gone.” I declared, making an effort to look perky. “ Will you give me a ride today? I need to go to LCG today, see how the remodeling is going. Any interesting news?”

My husband didn’t seem interested in the news, though.

“You’re going to work?” He frowned at me. “You had a procedure two days ago.”

I gently placed my forkful of eggs on my plate, my appetite suddenly gone. I didn’t want to think about Switzerland or my procedure. I just wanted to move on.

“Three days ago.” I corrected. “There’s a time difference. Besides, I’m fine, I’m just going to see the remodel, I’m not going to break any walls myself.”

I needed to sound as normal and healthy as possible if I was going to convince my husband.  But the truth was, I was not only trying to convince Victor, I was also trying to convince myself. Except my body wasn’t in on my lie. I felt a painful cramp in my lower abdomen that almost made me double over, suppressing a whimper.

“I have to find my phone.” I got up from my seat carefully, before Victor could be any wiser. “I must have a hundred emails to return.”

Victor and I didn’t reveal what we were doing in Switzerland, just stating we had meetings with new clients there and would be extremely busy, so we kept communications to a bare minimum. When I went to the clinic for the procedure I turned off my phone, and because of all that happened after, I never remembered to turn it on again. The moment my device came to life, it started beeping non-stop.

I started skimming through the messages, already categorizing the most urgent ones to reply as soon as I got to my computer. My eyes lingered on one sent by Diane.

Aunty Andrea, I have arrived! I was born on August 19th, at 7 pm, weighing 6 pounds. I am a healthy and happy baby and I can’t wait to meet you. Mommy and Daddy say hi! Lots of love, Penny.

Below there was a picture of a sweet baby wrapped in a pink soft blanket, sleeping peacefully. I heard Victor speaking from behind me, leaning against the door frame.

“I was going to tell you after breakfast.”

I took a deep breath, afraid I might start to cry. Clearing my throat, I turned to him, trying to act as perky as possible.

“It’s ok, now I know.” I moved past him to the walking closet. “Penny looks absolutely precious.” I picked a shirt to wear. “I need to call Diane to know when it’s the most convenient to visit. They’re probably too tired to see people right now.”

“Just stop it already.” Victor scolded, making me start to get jittery. “I know you are unwell, you shouldn’t be going to work. You need time to recover.”

“No, what I need is a shower and to get back to my life. I can’t do that staying at home and moping.” I was desperate to get steaming water on my abdomen to ease the pain I was feeling. “Give me 20 minutes and we can leave.”

My wish to pretend everything was ok soon fell apart, as the dull pain I was feeling sharpened and made my knees buckle. The only reason I didn’t fall was Victor’s watchful stance, as he promptly gathered me in his arms.

“You’re not going to work today. Neither am I.” He sat me on the bed. “I’ll help you shower and change into more comfortable clothes, but no one is leaving the house today. You just had surgery, and you are still in pain.”

Despite my protests, Victor undressed me and took me to the bathroom, allowing me to shower by myself under the condition that he would sit outside the stall, waiting for me. I let the hot water dissolve the knots in my body, my mind reeling with thoughts of the recent events.

For the past two years, I had worked hard to get rid of all the marks Daniel left in me. I got my self-esteem back, fell in love, made a career for myself. But I couldn’t erase the mark that hurt me the most, my infertility. I had told everyone that I couldn’t remember what had happened, convincing them that my head injury or maybe shock had erased it from my mind. However, I was trying to spare their feelings. The truth was too cruel, I needed to keep it to myself, so it wouldn’t hurt anyone else. That day at the hospital, I swore to myself that what happened that night would die with me.

First, the memory came in flashes. I did my best to keep it hidden in the dark corner of my mind, but to no avail. It was overpowering me, to the point that I forgot where I was, and simply closed my eyes, finding myself on the cold floor of my old kitchen again.

“Did you really think it would be that easy?” Daniel circled me as I sat on the floor, wiping the blood from my nose. “Did you really think I would just let you walk away?”

He removed the belt from his pants and wrapped it around my neck, tightening it as he kneeled behind me.

“Listen carefully, my love. You don’t get a say about your life. You don’t get a say about that baby’s life. You don’t even get to decide where you go.” I fumbled uselessly to get the belt off my neck, almost passing out with the lack of oxygen. I was startled with his mouth whispering in my ear. “I’m the one who decides who stays and who goes, and I decide who gets to live. Let me tell you what I have decided.”

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and suddenly smashed my head against the tile. After that, I couldn’t get up. The pain was so unbearable I was paralyzed and temporarily blind, my ears ringing loudly. The only thing I could feel was the blood pouring from my forehead and pooling on my hair and ears, and his voice, far away, like I was under water.

“I will let you live your pathetic miserable life.” He spoke with disdain. “But you will not have that child, or any other child.”

The first kick made the air suddenly leave my lungs, and I couldn’t breathe in anymore, before another kick followed. And another. And another. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t cry, I was helpless. The only thing I could do was hope he was wrong, and death would take me anyway.

The sound of the shower door opening startled me, my mind still somewhat fuzzy, stuck between memory and reality. The water stopped, I felt a towel wrapping around me, arms lifting me from the wet floor.

When I fully came to my senses, I was in Victor’s arms, his face close to mine, whispering. It was then that I realized I was gasping for air.

“Deep breaths.” I heard his voice in my ear, while he rocked me back and forth. “Take deep breaths, Andy.”

I couldn’t stop the sobs that followed, making me shake violently. Victor held on tight to me, and I grabbed the fabric of his shirt like my life depended on it, wanting to escape the memory.

After seeing I was more relaxed, he helped me dress and laid me in bed.

“Talk to me.” He urged, as he pulled the comforter over me. “Tell me how I can help.”

“I just want to sleep.” My voice was weak as raspy, barely audible.

His hand rested on my back and lingered, as he seemed to ponder on what to do. After a moment, I felt the mattress rise as his weight left it, and I heard the sound of the door closing softly behind him. He came to the room numerous times, checking up on me. I pretended to be asleep in every single one of them, until he eventually grew tired of it and woke me up, stroking my curls.

“Your mother is on the phone, she wants to talk to you.” I opened my eyes, and his phone came into my line of sight.

“Tell her I’m sleeping.” I covered my head with the comforter.

“You need to talk to someone.” Victor’s voice had lost all his softness. “If not me, your mother. Take the phone.” He almost ordered.

“I said I don’t want to talk to her.” I turned my back. “Stop pressuring me.”

Victor unmuted his phone, bringing it to his ear.

“I’m sorry, Mariana, she’s asleep. I’ll tell her to call you later.”

I closed my eyes again, waiting for him to leave.

“You’re avoiding your mother now?” He scolded me.

“I’m not avoiding anyone, I just want to be left alone. Is that so difficult to understand?” I buried myself under the comforter.

“Yes, you are. You are avoiding your mother and you are avoiding me. Don’t think I don’t know you were pretending to be asleep every time I came to the room. You can’t deal with this all by yourself Andy, you need to speak up.”

I got up from the bed, running to the door, trying to avoid a discussion. I didn’t have it in me to fight. I was too weak. But before I could reach it, Victor pushed my back against the wall, resting his hands on it, blocking any exit for me. I was trapped.

“Victor, please, just let me go!” I begged, tears already forming in my eyes.

“I will not.” He spoke assertively. “Not until you talk to me.”

I looked down, avoiding his gaze. His forehead pressed on mine.

“Don’t hide from me, Andrea. Please.”

I felt the bad blood rising fast, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. All the frustration and the anguish of the past days came full force in one single wave, and before I could help it, it was spilling all over.

“What do you want me to tell you, Victor?” I felt so enraged I just wanted to scream at his face. “That I’m a horrible person that can’t even be happy for her friend? That I’m consumed by bitterness and jealousy? Or that I feel guilty for having let that piece of shit into my life, and take everything I held dear? Can you possibly understand what that’s like? He won, Victor. You are already paying the price for my bad decisions, I can’t let you pick up the pieces too.”

Victor grabbed my face with his hands, looking at me with piercing eyes.

“You are not a terrible person and you are not responsible for what happened to you. I understand this can be hard for you, but don’t avoid the people that love you. Talk to me.”

“I don’t need to talk!” I yelled, frustrated. “I need normalcy, I need to feel like I’m not about to break, and I need space! I’ll figure it out by myself. Just let me figure it out by myself.”

Victor looked down, seemingly trying to hold himself back. After a moment, he let me go, walking away in frustration.

“What am I supposed to do then, sit idly as I watch you crumble to pieces? Pretend I don’t hear you cry? I will not see you like this and do nothing!“ He lifted his left hand, showing me his wedding ring. “I made a vow I have every intention to keep. In the good times and the bad, remember? It’s my duty as a husband to be at your side at all times, why won’t you let me?” He paused, looking down again. “Am I not good enough?”

His question felt like a bucket of ice dropping on me, freezing me to the core. In my mind’s eye, I could remember all the times I urged him to open up to me, worried about him. I could remember how I felt unwanted every time he pushed me back. Now, I was doing the same. I broke down sobbing, and immediately I felt my husband's arms around me, steadying me. Like they always did.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore!” I pulled him tightly to me, taking the strength he was offering me. “You are more than enough, please don’t think otherwise. You are the man that I love, I need you.” I nudged his chest, letting all my anguish finally out, unrestrained. “I’m so sorry, Victor, please forgive me.”

“I’m here, my light, don’t cry.” He whispered softly in my ear, one hand holding the back of my head, the other running soothingly in my back. “All will be well, I promise. You are safe in my arms.”

[d-l-dare]

“Take the Gummy Bear”

"Finally." I said under my breath as I stood from my car and shut the door behind me. I stared in awe at the building I was beginning to think didn't exist.

I had been searching for this place for what felt like several months. And I now understood why it was so hard to find. It's not like I could ask anyone for directions, nor would there be a big sign pointing me there. This place, after all, the lone cabin that stood in the center of a clearing, somewhere in a heavily forested area, was a place where people would come to die.

More specifically, this was a place where people with a tragic backstory could tell their tale before facing certain death. Was it legal? No. Was it effective? Absolutely.

I made my way to the door and knocked. I heard footsteps from inside and the door swung open, leaving me standing face to face with a man with white hair and a grey beard that lead down nearly to the middle of his stomach, which definitely perturbed. He looked like an old man lumberjack.

"You must be Jack," he said in a heavy country accent. I nodded. "Well, come on in." He gestured toward his living room.

I walked past him and into the living room. There was a rug in the center of the floor with 2 chairs siting diagonal from each other, on sitting near the far wall next to the fireplace, the other sitting closer to the front door. The only light in the cabin was coming from the warm and roaring fireplace, which filled the place with an orange glow.

He shut the door and walked over to the chair next to the fireplace, gesturing me to sit in the other chair. We sat and talked about the procedure for a few minutes. He told me there would be a gummy bear that I'd have to lay under my tongue. The juices from within were toxic and would enter my bloodstream, leading my heart to stop after a few minutes. I would be dead by the time the gummy bear is dissolved, he told me.

He then informed me that there would be no exchange of money for this procedure, instead I'd have to tell him the story of why I needed to die. I agreed and he grabbed a small package from the box next to him. He handed it to me. Inside was the gummy bear. It was no larger than any other gummy bear I'd ever seen. It was yellow.

I unwrapped it, as instructed, and put it under my tongue. To my surprise, it didn't taste horrible, but instead tasted like lemons. I took a few seconds for the shock to hit me that I was really doing this, I was really going to die.

He got his journal out and jotted something down before looking up at me. I began to tell him about my story.

I was in the happiest time of my life. I had been with this girl, Meghan, for a few years. We had a child together and decided to get married. She was the perfect girl for me and our son was the most beautiful child I'd ever seen. But a few years passed by, the work days turned into endless hour shifts. I had no time nor energy to spend on my sin, nor my wife. We'd got in an argument one night and I went to the local bar. There, after a few drinks, I met this woman, Samantha. 

She and I were flirting and eventually hit it off. I'd told her it was a one time thing. She wanted it to be more. She informed my wife that I'd slept with her, which was completely untrue. My wife took our son and left me. She took everything.

But that wasn't the end of Samantha, she followed me everywhere. She spammed me on every social media site, stalked me at any apartment or hotel I stayed at. Everywhere I went, there she was a few steps behind. I tried asking for help from anyone I could but they all told me I deserved it for tearing my family apart. I wish I hadn't gone to that stupid bar. I wish I hadn't met that blonde bimbo at the bar.

After a year of running I knew dying would be the only way. I would've done it alone, and I tried it once. She busted through the door and stopped me, revived me. This was the only place I would be able to pull it off successfully. The man continued to write and I felt my vision start to fade. At last, I was free.

[oldhauntsforgottenghosts]

Eli

So this is a ‘review’ of sorts for the movie Eli, available on Netflix. There will be spoilers under the cut. The premise of the film is a boy who has a terrible illness (effectively ‘allergic’ to everything a la the ‘Bubbly Boy’) is brought to a ‘hospital’ for an experimental treatment. This hospital is actually a renovated old house which may or may be haunted. One thing that I do appreciate about this is that this movie takes a departure from the typical, overdone horror movie tropes, but alas, maintains some of the standard character archetypes at points. It starts out as a fairly slow burn, but once the action starts, it doesn’t really stop. Personally, I appreciate how much of this story is built off tension, rather than just gore and blood and jumpscares. While there IS some gore/gross shit near the ending of the movie and a few jumpscares, they are not the ONLY force driving the movie forward. 

Probably should mention that this movie may trigger those sensitive to gore/medical procedures, jumpscares, and gaslighting/abuse. Spoilers follow under the cut.

So one of my favorite parts about this movie is the fact that the ghosts are not the ‘standard’ ghosts of any other horror movie. They go after Eli on a regular basis when he’s alone, terrifying the hell out of him, and quite frankly, me as well! They’re pretty fucked up looking, and when they pop out, they ARE a jumpscare, 

That being said, they’re not actually evil - if anything, they do not actively attempt to HARM Eli, despite them attempting to drag him out of the house and terrifying him. In reality, they are trying to prevent him from suffering the same fate as he has. (My one gripe - if they were trying to get him out of the house, they should’ve ‘haunted’ his parents, as they were the ones with all the power, obviously). 

Eli himself... Is interesting. For a young boy, he’s resourceful and intelligent, not to mention braver and more level headed than most adults. If anything, this borders into stupidity, as he continues to attempt to explore the rest of the house/hospital even after being told to not to multiple times. Despite all of this, his parents do not take him seriously, with his father being the worst offender. 

His mother seems to be caring and loving for him, if subservient to her husband. Her husband, meanwhile, is a fucking piece of work. At no point is he a sympathetic or even likable character - if anything, he reads as abusive in the way that he talks to both his wife and son, not to mention his actions - as the movie wears on, not only is he short and terse with both members of his family, but he physically attacks his son at one point and drugs him at another to fulfill the final ‘treatment’. Perhaps thankfully, he does die near the end, along with the nuns pretending to be medical professionals. 

Yep, nuns. So it turns out that Eli is actually one of the offspring of the Devil, along with the girl that he meets outside the greenhouse of the treatment facility. Eli’s mother desperately wanted a child, and it wasn’t Jesus/God that answered her prayers. With that revelation, it’s no surprise that Eli’s ‘father’ apparently hated him, and while it was his mother who continued to give him ‘medication’ that made him ill, it wouldn’t surprise me if it was at the behest of her husband. 

As a note, this entire movie will make you feel icky af if you’re sensitive to gaslighting. At no point is Eli ACTUALLY ill, as we see near the end of the movie - rather, the ‘medication’ is what makes him ill, as it’s things that apparently have connections to God/protection against evil, such as Holy Water. Eli lives his entire life believing that he actually has a severe, life threatening illness that will kill him if he steps outside of his hazmat suit or bubble environment, when in reality it is his parents making and keeping him ill to ‘suppress’ his supernatural bloodline. Meanwhile, any time he attempts to bring up what he is experiencing and the ghosts that he is seeing, the doctor keeps insisting that it’s all in his head. 

Finally, the ending is rather neatly done. Eli’s supernatural power comes through fully, and he ends up killing his father and the three nuns that were masquerading as a doctor and her nurses.His mother is spared, perhaps because she has a change of heart. I’m not sure how to feel about that, as on the one hand she DID purposely make her son ill, but at the same time, I don’t feel like it was entirely HER choice - I feel that most of her actions were heavily influenced by her husband. 

The movie ends with Eli and his mother escaping from the house that is now burning down and encountering Haley (the girl he met in the greenhouse/sunroom), who along with the other ghosts in the house, is the offspring of Satan, making them half-siblings. Haley mentions that Eli was stronger than the other 3 who died (the ghosts), and offers to take him to their father. The movie ends with Eli being noticeably darker personality/energywise than at the start of the movie (and as an aside, I find it absolutely fascinating that Eli was an otherwise normal child at the start - no powers, no evil aura, nothing. Makes me wonder, if his parents weren’t trying to hard to ‘fix’ him, would the events in this movie ever happen? E.g. would his powers actually appear, would he start acting a bit darker, etc.?) and the trio driving off to parts unknown. Personally, I think that it neatly finished off the movie, leaving minimal questions unanswered. 

[kshitij1997]

Welcome back!

Well, the die has been cast, and Europe shall endure the consequences. Or will it?

Onward with the story :)

All Frozen and Tangled characters belong to Disney. All I own is this retelling and some original characters.

Chapter 10: Felino the crooked nose

 

February the 5th, 1828,

‘You’re a frigid, wormy piece of shit, you know that?’, growled the recently anointed Tsar at the Arendellian Monarch. Not a good sign for the conference the concert of Europe had arranged; the Monarch of Arendelle was hellbent on closing his country yet again, and no one was willing to budge on their stance.

‘I care not for the impression you choose to have about me, your majesty. I have my reasons and my fears to support my decision. I have to do what I feel is best for my kingdom, as would you if you faced a decision of a similar magnitude.’ Agnarr stated his position calmly, even as he felt no genuine respect for the Russian Monarch. Unlike his late brother, Tsar Nicholas the first had no great capacity for empathy and understanding. He had chosen to keep himself and his people ignorant. After all, what could one say of the sovereign who treated his highest officials and closest advisors like the serfs he saw them to be, and the holy synod under him bragged openly about how it was their god given duty to keep the downtrodden as they were. Oh, how their man, Sergei Uvarov, the Tsar’s minister of education, openly declared: “If I can extend Russia’s childhood another fifty years I will consider my mission accomplished.”

Oh, the Tsar saw himself as a god, and a jealous one at that. Agnarr understood that and knew that as a fellow sovereign, the Tsar could do little but rant in his face for the insult. Even if he would want to wage war upon Arendelle, he wouldn’t wish to give up access to the only warm water seaport he had. Still, Agnarr’s worries were far greater than some disgruntled people in power.

Elsa had lost control of her powers and was crippled in her fear, Anna had been forced to selective amnesia from Grand Pabbie, leaving no trace of Elsa’s powers and Olva...well she hadn’t been so fortunate. Against the advice of Grand Pabbie, he and Iduna had insisted on the procedure of wiping her memory clean of Elsa’s powers and the accident. The hermit warned of the consequences he was facing now with Olva, but how was he to know in his panic and desperation? Now the poor girl had begun experiencing fits and severe headaches, along with bouts of fainting for several minutes. He hadn’t slept this past month properly in the worry of what could happen to his family. Now he had a solution, and he would not back off from it. He must protect his family in any way possible. He must.

‘Your majesties, please don’t antagonise each other. This concerns all of us. You’re not the only ones troubled here. King Agnarr, you’d best explain yourself.’, queen Sophia spoke firmly as she presided over the conference. Agnarr’s declaration had shocked everyone, and he was yet to provide an explanation.

‘Thank you, queen Sophia. I have no intent on stepping on anyone’s face or insulting anyone. This sudden policy of isolation is a measure of precaution. I have it on reliable sources and personal knowledge that there are elements of revolution and insurgency brewing up in my kingdom. I can’t ignore it like the previous bourbon king of France in his time, god rest his soul. I must deal with these rebels quickly and with extreme prejudice. Because if I don’t then Arendelle falls forever, and if Arendelle falls, all northern Europe shall sink along with it.

And before you decide on persecuting war against me, ask yourselves this. Haven’t we had enough of war? We saw 2 decades of war followed by a decade of relative peace. If you ask me, I’d rather prefer the latter. I make this tough choice for the safety of all Europe, please understand.’

He paused to size up the room, who could be his allies and enemies hereafter. Corona and Austria-Hungary were definitely his allies; he knew Reginald would support him in the end. Weselton and the English would be against it; his partnership with them and America would be at risk, he’ll have to accommodate them somehow. Same was the situation with Russia. Maybe the Ottomans had to be brought in to keep Russia in check? Spain and the Southern Isles could be neutral; the Spanish could not care less, their main rivals were the English and the French, they would only vote as a formality. As for the Southern Isles were represented by queen Paulina, for the king had taken ill. On the surface, Paulina looked pleasant and charismatic, yet Agnarr knew that she would be a formidable and dangerous foe if he didn’t play this right. He began to speak again but was rudely interrupted.   

‘And what would be these insurgent elements? The Northuldra?’, asked the duke of Weselton. The room tensed at the duke’s blatant attempt towards badgering the king of Arendelle. Agnarr had to fight a very strong impulse towards bashing the duke’s head on the wall. After composing himself mentally, he replied with barely concealed intentions ‘Why, yes. They have been neglected for far too long. I must attempt to bring them up with the kingdom. They are too obscure and are getting discontent.’

‘Just the language your father used, didn’t he? And where is he now? Lost like the rest of them. I’m telling you; this country is a lost cause. The Northuldra are ‘discontent’? Don’t make me laugh. They’re out for your and your family’s blood. They have been for years.’, the duke was clearly enjoying himself at Agnarr’s expense.

‘And if I hope to pursue a peaceful solution and keep Europe out of the mess, what is so wrong with that, duke?’, Agnarr nearly spat out the last part.

‘It’s always something personal. What, a problem with your kids now?’

‘Why, your uncouth son of a-‘

‘ENOUGH!’, the presiding queen roared. ‘That’s the second time you have tried to lay discord in the concert on purpose, duke. Once it was over my kidnapped child and now this. I swear, if it happens again, you’re going to meet your maker without warning, in front of everyone!’

‘I can’t believe you’re still going on about your bloody kid. She’s fucking dead! I always get enraged how the kings of Europe are disturbed about such trivial matters, and I’m to be punished because I call out the bullshit for what it is?! Fine. Hang, draw, and quarter me all you want, that does not change the fact that once again, some people are sullying the good name of the concert for their own interests.’, the duke spat venom without a care.

‘I’ve heard enough. Marshals, break the duke’s kneecaps.’, an enraged Sophia gave the cold order to her personal guard. The duke’s bravado melted away instantly, and he shrunk in his stature as the marshals came to deal with him.

‘Sophie, stop!’ King Reginald shouted.

‘Pray tell, what now, Reginald?’ his spouse was beyond annoyed by now.

The king of Corona whispered in his spouse’s ear ‘We’ll get the coward some other time. I need to talk sense into Agnarr somehow. I advise you to break for recess.’ A rare sight for the usually tempestuous king to calm down his calmer, more pragmatic wife.

Queen Sophia sighed heavily and announced a recess.

Once they were alone, Reginald confronted Agnarr ‘What’s gotten into you, Agnarr? You’re supposed to be the sensible one amongst us two.’       

‘I’ll tell you what’s sensible. I should invade the fucking duchy of Weselton, lay it to fucking waste, burn it to the fucking ground, and salt the fucking remains barren forever!’ Agnarr snarled with uncharacteristic murder in his eyes.

‘Oh, calm down, crusader. I hate the duke much more than you do, believe me. Nevertheless, even I must agree with that poltroon over your course of action. It’s drastic and uncalled for. Tell me honestly what’s bothering you. We’ll make it right. Tell me.’

‘You don’t believe me? I told you every reason I have for doing this. My kingdom has only just recovered from the previous war. I can’t risk another. I certainly can’t afford it to become a pan-European conflict. At the end of the day, I just want my heir to inherit a stable state. An agitated group of people is not the hallmark of a stable state. Even if it takes me years, I must resolve this once and for all.’

Reginald spoke empathetically ‘Alright, but it still is a visceral reaction to the situation. I think foreign aid would only help more. Are you sure about it?’

Agnarr thought about telling the truth to his best friend, but ultimately decided otherwise; he couldn’t let the secret get out in any circumstance.

‘Yes I am. I also believe that those so-called insurgents are supplied by foreign powers themselves; they would like nothing more than to make my kingdom their colony. And that fucking Weselton shill... I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s behind the whole damn thing.’

‘That may be true, but without solid evidence, we can’t deal with him effectively. We must be sure.’ Reginald advised him.

‘Alright, but I can’t back down from my position. Yes, my kingdom will suffer in the short run, but I know we’ll be secure and united eventually.’

Ultimately, the concert decided that Arendelle would only keep one point of access open to the outside world; the main port. Only diplomats and special traders would be allowed. Every other traveller, from tourist to student would have to be barred from entering the country. It may cause uprising among the international students in his kingdom, but he’ll have to deal with them on his down. To preserve the security, the red tape for the traders and businessmen became very harsh. All, in service towards protecting my family; Agnarr thought.

A week later

A craven figure along with half a dozen guards floated in a rowboat towards one of the northern shores of Arendelle, beyond the mist. A hooded figure in silhouette waited for them on shore, heavily dressed to protect them self against the bitter February cold. Upon reaching the shore, the hooded bowed in respect and said ‘Welcome, honourable duke of Weselton. I hope your journey was pleasant enough.’

‘As pleasant a trip I could hope in stormy, waning winter, thank you for asking.’, the duke removed his cloak and coat to make his face more visible, and gestured his guards to disembark and stand around. The scrawny man took a moment to stretch himself, and at length, spoke ‘How many instances of forbidden people wandering into your grounds?’

‘Not as many as before, however a group of the Iceni tribe were intercepted in the valley of death during patrol two months ago and dealt with without exception. No survivors that we know of.’

‘Good, the illegals are dwindling, soon they would be no problem. However, as long as Arendelle stands, you’ll never be safe. We’ll have to confront them once and for all.’

‘Let’s continue our discussion on the way to camp, honourable duke.’

The Northuldrian camp was twenty-five kilometres inland from the seashore, but the spirits had grown very erratic in recent years, so the Northuldra had to find new routes to their homes every few weeks. The latest incident was particularly severe; a landslide had destroyed the usual detour they took, so they had to take the tributaries by another boat, a slower but safer way of travel.

‘Forgive me, honourable duke. I know travel by water does not agree with you.’

‘I’ll live. Tell me, how is everything holding up north of the mist?’

‘We’re eking out a living somehow. As you know, the rivers have been gradually changing course towards the south, our arable lands are going barren as a result. Adding to the problem, the rains are becoming scarcer with every passing year bit by bit. I regret to inform you that the poppy plantation is facing a loss, the raw material for the heroin would be short this time.’

‘It seems you’ve lost the plot, haven’t you? How will I get you your weapons if your end of the bargain is low? Weapons, armament, lumber and steam technology for ships don’t come cheap, you know?’ the duke said with the faux humility that masked grave threats underneath, and the hooded figure knew well what those threats were. Nevertheless, a low yield was not the biggest problem.

‘There’s more, honourable duke. Arendelle has tried to sue for peace and is willing to cooperate.’

‘Yes, I heard. We both know it’s nonsense.’

‘I’m not so sure. The terms they have offered seem rather reasonable.’

‘I’m sure they are. They may be too reasonable, I’m afraid. Implying something between the lines. The implication being disastrous for the Northuldra. If you ask me, I would never take any terms Europe offers at face value.’

‘I’m a fair sceptic of the south, just as you are. But since the rise of the mist, they have not engaged in any big skirmishes.’

The duke sighed and said ‘It pains me to say it, but you lack an ocean of imagination. There are uncountable ways to fight a war of attrition, and Arendelle has chosen the most insidious way.’

‘What do you mean, duke?’

‘I’d rather tell this to everyone at once, instead of making it a poor game of translation errors.’, with that, the duke fell silent, knowing full well that the hooded figure’s doubts had been flared up.

After a voyage of two hours, the party reached the camp. A huge crowd had gathered upon the riverbank where the canoe stopped. The hooded figure removed his hood and stood beside the Northuldra leader as her most trusted vassal. The Northuldra leader went by the name of Yelena, a woman moving towards middle age, standing barely above the duke in stature, but those aged eyes had seen many ups and downs. The leader slightly prostrated herself before the duke; the Northuldra way of showing respect towards authority.

‘Welcome, o duke! I hope your voyage was pleasant.’

‘As much as I could hope it to be. I must say, the Northuldra’s native lands grow more beautiful every time I venture up’ the duke said.

‘Your grace flatters us. I believe my trusted vassal has given you the lowdown for everything that has happened in the past three months. We’ll be happy to discuss a compromise for the goods you need.’

‘Thank you, your excellency. However, my worries include the survival of the Northuldra as well.’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘You may have received terms from the king of Arendelle for a peaceful cessation in the past few days, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, they are more reasonable than I expected.’

‘I feared so, for if you paid attention, you’d realise that the terms are too positive. They’re willing to overlook the massacre of the group of Iceni that happened two months ago. Not to mention the fact that they may have stumbled about the truth about our trade operation as well.’

‘Speaking of the trade operation, what we may be short of in terms of goods, we’ll make up in plunder in the North Atlantic. I have sanctioned three fleets for the same purpose later this week.’

‘That is encouraging, but I must warn you, the plundering operation would become very difficult very soon. What with the king of Arendelle sealing the kingdom’s maritime and overland borders.’

‘Excuse me, come again?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you knew.’

‘No, I didn’t. Please enlighten us, your grace.’

‘Well, your excellency, the king of Arendelle has decided to isolate the country, and I quote his speech: “This sudden policy of isolation is a measure of precaution. I have it on reliable sources and personal knowledge that there are elements of revolution and insurgency brewing up in my kingdom. I can’t ignore it like the previous bourbon king of France in his time, god rest his soul. I must deal with these rebels quickly and with extreme prejudice. Because if I don’t, then Arendelle falls forever, and if Arendelle falls, all northern Europe shall sink along with it.” Now you tell me, is this the language a man would use while suing for peace?’

Yelena became quiet for a moment, taking in al the information. At length, she asked ‘What are the possible ramifications of this declaration?’

‘They could be numerous, but I’ll tell you the most obvious one. Within a month at the latest, the coasts would be dotted by the Arendellian navy, putting a blockade through which nothing except their own ships could get in or out. You can imagine they would be only too happy to hunt down your pirate ships before you’re able to secure any loot at all. You can’t raid through the land, as the mist is your most powerful jailer. It will surely be a stifling experience; I won’t deny it.’

‘What if we do sue for peace? If we sincerely send an envoy to the south?’

‘Aye, you could try that. In fact, I suggest you try that without fail.’ Interrupted a tall, dark man as he made his way inside Yelena’s tent.’

‘Mathias, just because the mist forces me to tolerate and learn to like your presence doesn’t mean you interrupt me in meetings about the matters of state.’ Yelena bristled with annoyance.

‘Believe me, once the mist lifts up, I’ll ride south, first thing on my to-do list.’

‘Mathias, you look familiar. Tall, dark, muscular, good posture. Does your Ethiopian father still till the grain and tan the leather shoes?’, making harsh, cutting remarks was a talent the duke used well.

‘No. Does the honourable duke take me for his wretched bastard slaves in the Congo?’ Mathias growled.

‘Gentlemen, please. Your grace, please don’t mind Mathias. Yes, he’s a southerner. He was in king Runeard’s personal guard from what I gather. He may look brutish and imposing, but he’s harmless and dare I say, a halfway decent man. He doesn’t usually interrupt one of my meetings, so this instance must be special. Tell us big boy, what should bother us?’ Yelena finished as she turned to Mathias.

‘I’m sorry. I’m not willing to entertain the stories of a deserter.’, the duke said nonchalantly.

‘As if your pip squeakiness has ever been in a battle to judge a trapped prisoner of war?’ Mathias seethed.

‘See, even he agrees, we’re at war.’ Oh, they were all playing right into my hands, the duke thought with glee.

‘Yes, and now peace must be made. Yelena, this is not the time to go on the offensive. Trust me.’ Mathias faced Yelena as he settled down beside her.

‘Maybe, but it is a peace we would be forced into. We want it on our own terms, Mathias. I understand you’re homesick, but we haven’t had a home to go back to for decades. We will assert our terms onto the king, and he will have to accept it. If he doesn’t, it’s war.’

‘Lofty words, your excellency. Alas, there’s no substance or weight to back your words. You’ll be blockaded soon, and travel by land is impossible anyhow. I suggest you make a permanent settlement here and be done with it.’, the duke laid the bait.

‘And perpetually disturb the peace of the spirits by claiming their sacred forest? Never.’, and Yelena took it.

‘Well, I can’t negotiate such a big difference in your quantity of goods. You’ll have to offer me something if I must continue supporting your struggle. What about lumber from the forest?’

‘You must be reading a fucking comedy. When we refuse to make a permanent settlement in the forest, YOU PROCEED TO SUGGEST SOMETHING FAR WORSE?!’, Mathias had half a mind to strangle the duke right there, when he was stopped by Yelena.

‘Sit down, Mathias! We’re in desperate times. We’ll have to do what we must in order to survive.’

‘Making a bad situation worse is survival?! Can you imagine or fathom withstanding the rage of the spirits if we cut down the forest?! How can you even consider this, Yelena?’

‘If I may ease your concerns, I’ll vouch for the fact that a sacred relic commands a lot of value in the market. Especially amongst those who are powerful, proud, wealthy and don’t ask too many questions. Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll introduce a tiny amount in the market. People would recognize it as sacred or magical with plenty of history behind it. Once I do that, I can manipulate the price for it and bring you all the money, all the weapons, all the ships you need.’, the duke reassured the Northuldra leader.

Yelena spoke at length ‘Alright, I agree to the venture. Let’s begin with ten logs.’

Mathias hung his head in defeat and nursed his forehead, which had begun to throb. This is not going to end well.

Yelena tried to comfort him after the duke left ‘Listen, for every tree we cut down, we’ll plant ten, I promise.’

‘Even if you do that, it won’t be the sacred forest of the fifth spirit anymore.’ Mathias said ruefully.

As the duke made his way to the ship waiting off the coast on his rowboat, one of his taciturn guards asked him ‘Your grace, why do we need these bunch of sheep worshippers?’

The duke grinned darkly ‘When a rival nation is at war with itself, best let it consume itself.’

Around the same time, somewhere in northern Greece

‘Rider, move your ass and get over here!’ A portly man called out as he wiped a greasy hand on his apron.

‘Coming, Elios!’ Flynn came running in. He was now a man of seventeen; having seen a fair bit of the world by now and had been working with Elios for a few months. Elios had hidden Flynn to save him from ‘The Hawk’, a notorious smuggler who had trapped him in his ring. In return, Flynn agreed to work for him in his front business.

‘Why must I go through this fucking chore every time? To have to call you up like a fucking parade float to just do your blessed job?’

‘I’m sorry for being two minutes late. I already did the prep for tonight; the bar has been cleaned and stocked. I just took a nap, calm your tits.’

‘I’ve heard that many times, give me something new Flynn’ Elios rolled his eyes.

‘What do you think I’ve been doing? Making merry around the city square? Come on, I know better than that.’

‘Don’t bother lying to me. I swear, one of those women is gonna make you the sacrificial goat someday.’

‘Alright, I heard your speech. Got it, can we move on?’

Elios wiped some sweat off his forehead and asked, ‘You know who’s coming tonight?’

‘Yeah I do, friends loyal to the Greek cause.’ Flynn answered without faltering

‘Not just any friend, mind you. The Gent is coming along with the Sicilians.’

Flynn’s ears perked up at that piece of news. The Gent was a legend in Northern Greece, almost singlehandedly forming the on-land resistance against the Ottomans in the Greek war of independence. He had been involved in the resistance for nearly seven years now and was lobbying for foreign support.

‘Wow, that’s a hero if I ever saw one.’

‘I told you I’ll introduce you to him soon. Today’s the day.’

‘Now, why would he visit an affluent restaurant filled with Turks day in and out, I’m sure I don’t know.’ Flynn stated incuriously.

‘Hey Flynn, let his people worry about it. I’m sure his people would be clever enough to figure it out.’ Elios was a practical man who knew the streets well, however, forethought was not his strongest suit.

‘No, Elios. Hear me out. If the Gent is ambushed here, we’re done for. Everything will be up for grabs and I know neither of us would like the prick of the cold sabre chopping our necks. And if we know The Gent is coming, the officials certainly know. And if the Sicilians find out, you’ll end up wearing concrete shoes, old boy. You may know the gutters and the roads, but I know loyalty.’

‘What do you suppose we do now? We can’t really serve them in public view.’

‘That is true. Tell you what, let’s clear the cellar for their dinner. I’m sure they don’t want any outsider to hear what they are discussing amongst themselves. Also, I think you should serve them personally, Elios.’

‘No can do. I’m the front. If I don’t stay there, they’ll investigate. You’ll have to serve them yourself. I’m sorry Flynn. The Gent trusts me, if he sees that I consider you worthy, he’ll be comfortable.’

But I don’t know the first thing about him and the others. What if I offend them without meaning to?’

‘Don’t be stupid, Flynn. We both know you know better than that. If the service is good, they’ll fill your pockets with enough dosh to set you up for years. If I truly know you, you wouldn’t miss this opportunity for the world.’

‘Alright, I’ll do it. Say Elios, what if I warm them personally first about the last-minute change of scenery?’

‘No. I’ll have to warn them myself. Set the cellar up. I did contact them two days ago; I’ll do it again.’

‘Just make sure you’re not followed.’

‘Hey Rider, who knows the street better?’

‘You do, clearly.’

‘Yup. I’ll be back soon.’

A few hours later, a party of people showed up. There was the Gent, a tall slender man, worn down by the hiding and fighting. His face was warm enough, save for the green eyes that could bore holes through the Earth, and a crooked mouth that had a scare across the top lip. Still, he felt like a man who could fight forever. As for the Sicilians, they were something else entirely.

It was a band of seven people. The man most fancily dressed, along with the ruby ring on his little finger and the gold watch and chain, was obviously the leader. The six were presumably his bodyguards, each one burlier and more imposing that the last, looking like killers happy to kill a priest in the middle of a sermon. Ruthless and royal. Dressed to the nines up to their plug caps.

Flynn suddenly felt dwarfed and puny.

‘Gentlemen, this is Flynn, he’s been working with me for a few months, he’ll be serving you tonight.’ Elios gave a short introduction and left. Flynn gave a short bow, not sure how to address these powerful men.

‘What’s your name, green boy?’ The Gent asked.

‘Flynn.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Going to be seventeen next month.’

You’re not from around these parts, are you? Your accent tells me....Austria Hungary?’

‘No sir, Corona. The Rhinelands, to be exact.’ 

‘Uh huh. How’d you end up in Greece?’

‘War orphan from the Napoleonic wars, pushed around all of Europe, ended up here.’ By now, Flynn knew the story by heart.   

‘My condolences. Ok Flynn, you’re going to undergo something unpleasant. Forgive me, just the nature of these times. I need to be sure of your loyalty.’

Before Flynn could reply, one of the goons was upon him, almost choking him with his weight, pressing down on his spine. Even if Flynn had any wind left him, he couldn’t yell.

‘Answer me, why was the room changed at such short notice?’

‘When the Gent asks, you better fucking answer, figlio di sfagato!’

‘Get off him, let him speak.’ The goon got off at once.

Flynn coughed and gasped for air. When he could breathe normally, he said weakly , ‘Mr. Gent, it was Mr. Elios who suggested it.’ Flynn barely finished his sentence before receiving a punch in the gut, knocking the air out of him.

‘That’s a lie. Elios is not that big a thinker. You seem to be smarter than you let on. Why’d you try to protect us from the Turks?’

‘I didn’t want them to kill you here. That would be underhanded and filthy. I’ve heard....heard that you believe in engaging them head on, I didn’t want them to ambush you. You’re a hero around here, would be a shame if I couldn’t do my bit for your cause.’ Flynn was hit yet again by the goon, this time in his nose. Blood had begin ebbing from his mouth and nose.

‘You’ve said enough. I can guess the rest of the story. Either betray the Turks and face the sabre or betray us and face getting shot in the face. Why choose us over them?’

‘I gambled here.....I’d rather be loyal to someone fighting the slavers for freedom than the slaver themselves.’ Flynn braced himself for another hit, but the hit never came.

Instead he could hear a chuckle from the Sicilian leader, who had gestured his goon to stand down. He approached Flynn and held him by the cheek, saying in thick accent, ’Felino. That’s your name from now on. Felino the crooked nose. Drinks on the house, all night. Keep the drinks up, you’ll be richer than the sultan come morning. Good boy.’

The leader, or don as they were calling him now, lightly tapped his cheek and went back to his place, settling down with the Gent and the other goons. Flynn left the room and almost crumpled on the floor. I could’ve died there, he thought for a second. Nevertheless, he composed himself and put on his charm; Felino the crooked nose had a job to do.

Ha, the duke of Weselton’s such a bastard, always stirring up shit wherever he goes lol. I love the potential his character has.

Our Man Flynn is serving the big boys now! What could happen?

Thanks again to those who continue reading this silly story :P

As always, constructive feedback is always welcome!

[meditativeyoga]

The secret to effortless living

There was a time when survival for a human being indicated food as well as sanctuary. Today, food as well as sanctuary are obtaining a growing number of challenging as well as pricey. It is great to have all those things however they ought to not become the determining variables of your life. What kind of food you consume, what type of clothes you wear, what type of residence you reside in-- each one organises these points inning accordance with his capacity but they should not come to be restricting elements, they are just the sustaining variables of your life. Whether you travelled from your the home of your office on foot or on a bicycle or in a Maruti or a Mercedes, it is simply a concern of different individuals's monetary capacities, choice as well as opportunity.

The important thing is you arrived, the ways of traveling is only incidental. This is real with every element of your life. However the incidental variables have taken on such sensational relevance that the fundamental feature of life has been completely forgotten. The process has come to be a lot more vital compared to the genuine thing. We are attempting to graduate from one material point to another due to the fact that our company believe that is happiness.

Don't follow the herd

It is in pursuit of happiness that you do the whole circus in your life. Different people could have various concepts about the best ways to arrive, but everyone remains in pursuit of happiness. The human race has actually been doing so much to achieve happiness and also wellness on this world that in this quest, we are damaging the extremely world on which we live. We must first recognize exactly what our idea of wealth is. Is it simply around more buildings, even more equipments, more cars and trucks, more ... everything?

If I go to the West as well as ask them, "Why don't you practice meditation?" the usual antiphon is, "Oh but we have actually reached pay bills." I claim, "Why do you individuals create a lot of expenses? If your whole life has to do with paying costs, why generate them? You can stop on your own and live even more pleasantly, isn't really it? To pay those costs, you are simply functioning endlessly. What's the factor?" The solution usually is, "everybody is doing it." No matter, they are all driven by someone else. You do not attempt to do exactly what somebody else does. When it involves outdoors circumstances, we have actually not included equivalent abilities. No two human beings are made with the same level of ability. There perhaps someone who can do a thousand points in a day without experiencing or being emphasized. Possibly you could do only three things in a day, it's okay.

Limit juggling to what you can

Life puts us in several situations where handling things is like balancing. Being in the family members is a big balancing procedure. Keep your feelings aside as well as simply consider it sincerely. Our lives have numerous complicated activities. We have different sorts of connections and also different degrees of involvement with different kinds of individuals on a daily basis. We are frequently changing from one kind of relationship to one more. Possibly you were just handling with two balls as well as it was rather simple.

Then you selected up more spheres as well as the juggling came to be challenging. When you wish to use up more task, there will be extra managing. You can not help it, that's the means it is. So when you require to juggling, you had better develop some skill. Otherwise, the spheres will be spread all over the location and you will be going crazy each day since you cannot hold things in area. Exactly how efficiently you carry your life just depends on the level of proficiency you have over juggling. This minute you might get on the phone with your business companion as well as the next minute you could be speaking with your spouse or your youngster. Life resembles this, it is continuously shifting. You can't simply tune on your own: "Ok, today I am going to resemble this." So, due to the complexity of this modification, if you occur to treat your wife like you treat your organisation companion, quickly you will remain in trouble. Or if you treat your business partner like your wife, you will certainly remain in problem, isn't really it?

So prior to we enter any situation, you need to check out your ability to manage. "Can I juggle all this and still enjoy or will I get shed when juggling?" If you are very little of a juggler, you much better continue to be alone as well as manage on your own. Every little thing includes a certain discomfort and satisfaction. There is a cost to pay in every aspect of life.

So prior to handling anything in your life, you must ask yourself: are you ready to pay the price? Every person needs to choose just how much of exactly what is right for him. Your neighbour may have a 100-bedroom house-- maybe he wants to reside in a hotel. For yourself, you must decide just how much you require. You do not do things like him. This is the greatest problem, we are attempting to do things like someone else. That's the wrong method to come close to life. We have to decide what does it cost? of exactly what we must carry out in our lives-- just how much outside task or internal wellness or social wellbeing would certainly maintain our life balanced without spoiling us and also the ambience around us. Unfortunately, such knowledge is missing out on in the world, we are just going widespread. It is crazy the method we are going due to the fact that the sort of lifestyle the globe has selected is simply not sustainable.

Don't die surviving

Today, if you have adequate loan, you could enter into a store and get every little thing that you need for a whole year. It has never ever resembled that on this world. Survival has constantly been a wonderful struggle. Today, for the initial time, the survival procedure has actually ended up being absolutely arranged. Currently is the moment to find expression to further measurements of being a human. The majority of individuals select to complicate their survival. We still do not seem to be do with survival. We wish to make the survival process so complicated that we will certainly spend the remainder of our life defending survival.

It is essential that you streamline your survival process to ensure that the further dimensions of that you are find expression in your life. It is incredibly essential that you find out exactly what it means to just sit below and also reverberate as an item of life since that is the supreme ecstasy of being below. And also now that our survival is typically cared for, I assume we should trigger a wave of bliss any place we go. As well as because we do not do that, we wrap up that a human being ways being an unpleasant, ineffective 'absolutely nothing'.

When you utilize the expression, "Oh, I'm simply human," it indicates, "I'm just powerless nonsense." We require to change the context of what it indicates to be human. When someone claims, "I'm human" he has to suggest "I'm delighted. I can wonderful things within myself." We've decided to make a human being right into a miserable worm who simply defend his survival throughout his life. We are capable of arranging our survival as if we don't have to have a hard time for survival every day-- unless we make complex the survival process.

For most people, the survival process itself is ending up being a full time job. Simply to work, to reproduce and to die one day, exactly what a fuss they make! Also a worm as well as an insect with their minute brains handle their survival rather well. Nature has actually offered every human considerable intelligence to care for his and also his offspring's survival. You are simply exaggerating it.

Stop clinging

A while earlier, I had a major squirrel problem in your home. The mommy squirrel brought to life 4 children. 3 of them got consumed yet the mommy doted upon the last one. She would watch her child go throughout my points, biting into everything. Here was a mom that was excited for her kid to discover its squirrel business as quickly as feasible, she intended to be complimentary of him as soon as feasible. Sadly, most human moms and dads don't have this sense. They want their youngsters to find out the human service as slowly as possible due to the fact that they don't have a life of their very own. They obtain some life just by hanging on to their kids. Which's the reason there is so much juggling. People declare to be one of the most intelligent varieties. Our youngsters should be totally free of their moms and dads a lot quicker than anyone else, isn't really it? Yet that does not occur due to the fact that we look at our youngsters as a funding based upon which we could live our future lives-- when we are alive as well as likewise after we are dead. It is as a result of this that the juggling appears so much of a headache, not or else. Family is not the issue, your personal insecurity and also your very own 'desire' to stick to things around you is the actual problem.

Don' t do anything for fulfilment

Human life does not finish with survival, it begins only when survival is looked after. If we had concerned this planet like any various other animal, then eating, sleeping, replicating and dying someday would certainly have been a complete procedure on its own. Also as a human you should do all these points. Somehow for human beings life doesn't seem to be fulfilled with them. Whatever activity you could have executed, life has not attained fulfilment. In every stage of your life you believe, "If this takes place, my life will certainly end up being total." As a child you believed, "If I obtain this plaything, my life will certainly be full." You obtained it but after 3 days, you threw it away. Life did not acquire fulfilment.

Then you believed that if you complete your education and learning, life would certainly be full. That also taken place but there was no fulfilment. Then you began to think, "Exactly what's the usage of functioning like a donkey? If only I get wed to that man or woman I enjoy, my life would certainly be made." That occurred and after that you know just what happened.

Fulfilment does not come since of some activity you do. Just if your frame of mind is complete, will certainly your life acquire fulfilment. Now, the human condition is such that without knowing anything regarding the nature of his presence, you are attempting to make a living and in some way pass via the globe. Your body, mind, emotion and also energies are the automobiles with which you travel with your life. Without any kind of understanding, control or subjective experience concerning them, you are attempting to live your life. This is an unexpected existence. When you exist mistakenly, even if you procure someplace in life, it will just be by accident. So, when a person is experiencing his whole life in an accidental way, experiencing anxiousness, concern and battle is all-natural. We go about stating, "Life is a battle." Life is not a struggle.

Get a grip on yourself

You are obtaining emphasized out merely due to the fact that you have no idea the best ways to function smoothly within on your own. You have no control over your own system. If your mind, body as well as powers were taking guidelines from you and also behaving the way you wanted them to, you wouldn't get worried no issue what was occurring around you. You should do something about this. If this does not occur, you will certainly continue living life by accident and also always be really hoping that circumstances function out.

If you are looking for to increase the range and also play of your life, if you are seeking challenging circumstances, then you need to do something concerning the way you function. Challenging scenarios suggest that you will face scenarios that you have no hint around. If you are the kind that obtains stressed out, normally you will certainly prevent those situations.

When you prevent those scenarios, you will naturally avoid all feasible growth for yourself. Today, so several people are getting into challenging tasks and are multi-tasking, however a large number of them could not be naturally outfitted to deal with such situations. This is why we see so lots of individuals losing their performance and simply damaging up while seeking their occupations-- surrendering to burnouts.

If you are regularly looking for obstacles in your life, and also you don't equip yourself with an internal security as well as an internal feeling of pleasure within on your own by your very own nature, you are bound to become a calamity over a duration of time. You could achieve success in your job however as a human you would have stopped working because you could not enjoy the procedure of life. Such individuals are not cheerful or serene, they have actually come to be stressful. If you are difficult, that implies somehow you have failed yourself, isn't really it?

When you tweak yourself to such a factor that the fundamental professors operate so wonderfully within you, then normally the most effective of your abilities will certainly simply drain of you. If you really intend to bring high quality into your life as well as to perpetuate that quality right into life around you, the most importantly thing that you have to do is to establish your internal truths in a certain way with a particular security. Just what is within you-- your mind, your feelings and your system need to not experience upheavals when facing the challenges of life. Just when there are no inner turmoils as well as concerns can you handle the outdoors problems well.

Take the first step

So exists a method to produce an internal circumstance? Yes. As there is a science and also technology to developing outside situations the way we desire them, we have an entire scientific research as well as technology to produce inner situations the method we want them. As we have engineered the globe, we can additionally engineer our interiority. Without it, we end up operating by accident.

The firstly action that every person ought to take is: furnish on your own making on your own the means you intend to be. If this occurs, creating the exterior will become easy. You inform me, when can you utilize your body and mind well? When you are pleased or dissatisfied? When you more than happy you can effortlessly handle points, yet when you are stressed out or dissatisfied, the very same little points freak you out. If you are joyful, increasing a hill is also effortless, right? It could take a great deal of exertion, however you feel it's easy since you are doing it happily. When you are doing it joylessly, every little thing is difficult. When you are doing it happily, everything is effortless.

Effortless does not imply resting on a sofa. When I say simple and easy, I am stating, as soon as you get involved in a particular state of pleasantness within on your own, as soon as you are joyous by your very own nature, every little thing is easy. When you are satisfied, you agree to playing around and do everything since you do not feel the initiative of it. Effortlessness does not imply lethargy, ease indicates that in your experience, it's not burdensome.

Once a person is at simplicity within himself, normally he functions at his ideal. Bringing this sense of ease, bringing this feeling of effortlessness within you is essential. If you truly want to boost the high quality of your life, you have to take this step and also be willing to spend a little bit of time for your inner health and wellbeing. If this is done, you will see a remarkable change in the means you work. The necessary innovation is there-- I call it Internal Engineering, the optimal of wellbeing.

Inner Design is simply this, that you craft your interiority to make sure that you operate effortlessly within on your own. This does not indicate you stay clear of challenging scenarios. When you are uncomplicated within you, you seek them. Inner Design implies you discover exactly how to perform this piece of life. If you know just how to conduct it, after that inning accordance with your ability, you can additionally conduct the outside effortlessly.

If your health and wellbeing is constantly under hazard, you will certainly not take care of the outdoors well. If you intend to manage every little thing well outside, if you wish to achieve success in your life, you must simply discover exactly how to utilize these 4 limbs and a few mind cells, that's all that's needed. Just how vivid and also focused your mind is, how vivid and healthy your body is, that's just what decides just how successful you are.

[harry-leroy]

So @ticketybooser left some wonderful comments on my last George Warleggan fic that I posted (thank you for those! ❤️) - and so I got some ideas for continuing it. This doesn’t end in any particular spot, and it’s probably something I’m just going to keep adding onto as I feel like it. Leaving under the cut for length + angst. Also going to tag @forcebros because our boys!

From the door, another figure came into frame. Tall, imposing, he turned the lock and swung open the door. His eyes locked with Dwight’s. Impulsively, Dwight let go of George’s arm. It was Penrose.

“Ah, Dr. Enys,” he began, relieving the other doctor by means of a slight nod. “Word was going around that we might be expecting you here today. Come to call me other names? Or does ‘brute’ settle it for you?”

George stepped back, his shoulders tensing. Dwight had to steel his courage, which wavered in Penrose’s presence.

“I’ve come to take him home,” Dwight swallowed, remembering that his position was the right.

Penrose chuckled a little.

“Take him home?” He shifted on his feet, almost as if marking it as a jest. “Who said you would be allowed to do that?”

“He shouldn’t be here-“ Dwight began.

“As far as our procedures are concerned,” Penrose’s eyes narrowed on Dwight, as if sizing him up. “George will not be allowed to leave until he has received a clearance that his madness has been cured. You’ve been made aware, Dr. Enys, that he is one of the most stubborn patients we have yet come across,”

“So-“ Dwight attempted to interject.

“So the prospect isn’t likely,” Penrose almost sneered.

“So you are aware,” Dwight finished what he had to say, voice calm. “My claim to take him home is not under the basis that his condition has improved. In fact, I think it has become far worse since his arrival,”

“Worse?” Penrose gritted his teeth.

“Have you checked his pulse?” Dwight asked. “I think you’ll find it rather quick. Quicker than I am comfortable with,”

Penrose took a few short steps towards George and took his wrist. He was met with some resistance, though Penrose fought to get his way, nearly taking George off his feet when he pulled the wrist in his direction. There was a pause in the conversation, then a frown on Penrose’s face, followed by the wrist being thrown down at George’s side.

“Oh, so the kind and patient doctor has come to intervene,” Penrose mocked. “This is not a charity house, it’s a hospital,”

“So leaving a man with his pulse that high-“ Dwight began.

“George is not used to visitors. He is forbidden from seeing anyone from outside the hospital under normal circumstances; circumstances which I would like to keep in place,” Penrose explained, his patience running short.

“I’ve been made aware of that,” Dwight said.

Penrose blinked, trying to piece out if Dwight had said what he thought he had said.

“I’ve been told that his uncle and his son have been denied from seeing him on several occasions,” Dwight continued, deciding to then lower his voice. “Now his son has taken ill. He will not eat. George’s son is a growing young boy who needs nourishment,”

“Young boys should stay out of this,” Penrose said with an air of contempt.

“How about his uncle?” Dwight stepped closer to Penrose. “The stiffest man in Cornwall was nearly brought to tears by his nephew’s suffering,”

“For God’s sake, Enys!” Penrose snapped. “George Warleggan is gone from their lives now. He’s incurable. Do you hear me? Incurable,”

Dwight shuddered at the word. This whole time, George had been running his index finger along the windowsill in slow little patterns. They were the patterns on Elizabeth’s jewelry, though no one could guess that but him. He was used to men talking about him like this, and saw no more reason to intervene. That would only bring him more punishment.

“No,” Dwight shook his head, staring at Penrose, incredulous. “No. You’re wrong,”

Penrose scoffed, regaining his temper.

“And what are you going to do?” He challenged. “I’ve said it before, and I’ve said it again. Your lunatic methods go against all proven treatments,”

“And this isn’t lunatic?” Dwight nearly lost track of the conversation from the sheer exhaustion of trying to reason with this man. However, Penrose’s approaching figure, all the more menacing, all the more imposing, brought Dwight back.

“I could have you put away right now if I felt like it,” Penrose’s eyes were monstrous. “Your entire coming here has been nothing but an act of utter madness. If you think you’ve been destined to save George Warleggan of all people from my grasp then you are sorely mistaken!”

He started laughing under his breath, it was short, though enough.

“Pity,” he said. “The mad doctor. Believing he can cure the incurable. How shameful that would be for your charming wife to hear,”

The thought intruded into Dwight’s mind like a slippery worm. He thought of suffering as George had suffered. Aching. Alone. Without agency. He thought of Caroline. She would forget him, surely. She would marry some rich heir. The only child he could give her had died. Who was to say that the rest would not turn out the same? If they were given another? Another husband, a better husband would suit her more. The screaming down the hall brought him back to France. He felt his pulse quicken. He could not be a prisoner again.

“Dr. Enys?” Penrose recalled the man back from a horrid trance. “Don’t tell me that I have cause to act against you now,”

Dwight swallowed, still caught off guard by the doctor’s remark. His methods had been unpopular, yes, but they were far more humane and effective than anything that Penrose would do. No. Caroline loved him. France was behind him. If anything, George needed him now. If he could save one, it would be George Warleggan. Dwight was the sane man in the room. All the same, he was the odd man out.

“I think you’re forgetting who is now the head of the Cornwall Infirmary,” Dwight reminded him, and also himself. “I think you’re forgetting who they decided to turn down to place him there. If there are any issues with George Warleggan’s release into my care, you ought to take it up with him,”

Dwight turned back to George and took him gently by the hand, then began to walk with him towards the door of his room. As they walked, Dwight wrapped one of his arms around George’s shoulders, as if to protect him from Penrose as they went past.

“Come on, George,” Dwight said, his voice soft. “Let us leave this Hell,”

* * *

Valentine now felt as though he were deaf to Ursula’s incessant crying. He stared blankly at the ceiling from his bed, a soreness dragging him deeper into the mattress as he huddled against it for warmth. His chest felt heavy, like it did when his Mama died. No tears came though.

He might have been glad once to have his Papa gone, but that was when Cary was gone too. They were in London for the week, and would return on a Saturday night. There were often little gifts waiting for Valentine the next morning, expensive trinkets from the high street and sometimes the odd toy. In those times, he had his Mama. She was not always as attentive as he wanted her to be, but at least Papa was not there to argue with her. Now, his father was somewhere else entirely, very sick, maybe even dead. Valentine had decided that of all the ways to die, madness would be the worst. Once, it had been childbirth, though Valentine realized that it was not something that he would likely experience, and so madness took over the spot.

This way, the way he was at the moment, didn’t seem a bad way to go. Starvation. Not something he was taught to worry about; his Papa had made that adamant. But now he couldn’t remember the last time he ate anything. He didn’t want to. The thought made him nauseous.

Valentine wondered if this is how Papa sometimes felt after a fit. Lethargic. For a moment, he pictured himself a madman as he lie in the bed, locked in his room to sleep. It sounded cozy, thought Valentine, with a sense of irony that was too much for his tired young brain to analyze. Perhaps he would go back to sleep again, as he had been doing for days on end.

There was a soft knock at the door before he saw Cary enter. He hadn’t been expecting Cary. Normally, it had been Bessie or Lucy with some soup or something of the like, which often went untouched. He was told that Dr. Enys had come once and given him something to soothe him, but it was beyond his memory. Valentine thought for a moment to pretend to be asleep so he wouldn’t be bothered, but the thought didn’t come fast enough.

“What are you doing here?” Valentine asked, face feeling flushed and feverish.

Cary hesitated a moment before speaking.

“I came here to tell you that I spoke with Dr. Enys,” Cary decided to sit down on the side of the bed, causing the weight on the mattress to shift in a funny way. “About your father,”

The pressure on Valentine’s chest felt tighter and heavier than before. He was dead, the boy knew. It would be some gross story that his uncle would coat in sugar as best he could. Passed out naked on a bed of straw, wouldn’t wake up, hadn’t bathed in weeks. There was blood in his hair, but it was from a fight with a doctor some days earlier. His wrists were as red as cranberries. The welts on his back would have been enough to kill him, but George Warleggan didn’t go down easy - that was the image Valentine had spent the past few months imagining, the picture of his hypothetically dead father becoming more complex each time he thought about it. But that wasn’t the news at all.

“He’s coming home,” Cary said, a pained smile crossing his face for a brief moment. Cary was sorely unused to smiling at all, and the news was almost bittersweet, knowing well in his heart that he would have to see his nephew in a wretched condition once again.

“Oh,” Valentine said, almost too tired to react in any other way. The tenacious illness that grabbed him seemed to lessen his excitement. Or perhaps it was the fear of seeing that imaginary dead man walking.

[rinusagitora]

All very ghoulish (2/10)

Fandom: Bleach

Characters: Karin Kurosaki, Ichigo Kurosaki, Rukia Kuchiki, Kisuke Urahara, Momo Hinamori, Izuru Kira, Tessai Tsukabishi, Ururu Tsumugiya, Tier Harribel, Kenpachi Zaraki, Genryuusai Yamamoto, Toushirou Hitsugaya, Masaki Kurosaki, Mayuri Kurotsuchi, Nemu Kurotsuchi, Yuzu Kurosaki

Pairings: minor KiraHina

Words: 6,100+

Summary: Monster!AU collab w/ @back-in-a-bit. SFW version;  Chaos overtakes London, and Karin undergoes a strange procedure.

AO3: works/16307414/chapters/49021901#workskin (NSFW)

Momo Hinamori felt like she rode roller coasters more often than not.

For the last four decades, she was Sousuke Aizen's loyal wife, and then only two years ago, he was incarcerated for being one evil son of a bitch, and she hadn't gotten back on her feet since then. Her nightmares persisted. Her ribs still hurt, even though she healed months ago. It was very much like he leached on her bones.

Momo Hinamori was once a monster with serrated teeth and a fire in her core. Presently, she was just embers, coddled in her new husband's mink coat and bottle-fed with packs and packs of cigarettes.

Thankfully, strip clubs allowed indoor smoking. She was never caught without something made of nicotine and ordinarily poisonous chemicals between her lips. Their invoices came in clean like linen and were filed strongly smelling like tobacco.

Still, Shinji pet her hair like a cat, or his child, even though she stank and looked at him like he was a cannibal.

“You should go home tonight, sweetie,” he said. “You’ve done more than enough for the girls tonight. Go back home to your husband.”

She smiled. “Okay. Thank you, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Momo gathered her purse and coat, headed outside, and she hailed a taxi on the street. "Caridge Park Apartments, please," she said.

"Caridge Park," the driver copied. "Care if I listen to the radio?"

"Go ahead."

Momo's head laid against the glass. A news station turned on. Momo didn't care much for the news, so she tuned it out and instead fiddled with her phone.

She received a text message over Kik from a family friend, Nemu Kurotsuchi. Gin Ichimaru had critically injured her husband Izuru when they defected and attempted to destroy the Seireitei coven. Nemu used her magic to heal him. Izuru and Nemu were good friends ever since, almost like father and daughter. Momo was fond of Nemu as well. While they only spoke in private, Nemu was a brilliant, sweet young woman, and it wasn't uncommon for them to text back and forth.

Nemu's text worried Momo, however. Nemu had only sent and apology.

The sun was just over the horizon. The speaker mentioned an explosion at a call center, the call center her dear brother worked at, and it felt like her guts dislodged. It felt like her teeth were knocked out all over again.

"I-I'm sorry, can you turn that off? I need to make a call," Momo said.

"Sure thing."

Momo quickly dialed Toushirou and it immediately went to voicemail. Momo swore time stopped. Her and Toushirou weren't close, not like when they were kids, but she loved him enough to think about him every day. She called her husband next. She didn't even bother with salutations. "My brother's workplace just blew up," she croaked.

"Oh my God," Izuru said over the receiver. "Momo, where are you?"

"I need you to call Rangiku for me. Tell her to get in touch with Akon right away. I'll call you when I'm done. I love you."

Momo crushed her phone in her hand. With the speed of a viper, she slammed the metal shards in the driver's face, and forced heat into her hands. The cab swerved into a phone tower. The horn blared.

Momo was completely unaffected. She calmly kicked off her heels and stepped into the glass-ridden street, where she molted her human skin. Her arms, four, to be exact, pushed down her skin to her ankles, where she emerged with cloven hooves. The tips of her inward fire licked the open lesions across her chest and shoulders, which cast a discordant light onto her face. She pulled her mink coat over her body, ignored the smell of singed fur, and vanished with a spark.

The explosion was no accident. Momo had questions for Nemu.

---

Toushirou's life normally amounted to nothing less than a circus, but between his strange dreams and sleep deprivation, it felt like he was on acid in a funhouse, jabbed and taunted by various spooks as he stumbled across the simplest entrapments. His body protested but Toushirou intended for his pain to be kept under lock and key.

He rolled his shoulders. They ground in their sockets, a sound much like when the bones of shapeshifters shifted into place. It never failed to make his stomach churn.

He was sick. At the same time, he refused to treat the symptoms. It was a demonic thing. Any indication of weakness was a recipe for cannibalism. After Sousuke Aizen, Gin Ichimaru, Tousen Kaname couped and killed at least a dozen of their coven members, Toushirou didn’t dare test his luck. He remembered all too well he wasn’t the only thing which lurked in the darkness, as ironic as it was.

Toushirou distracted himself from such miserable thoughts. The coven group chat displayed several new messages. Juushirou was abuzz about Mayuri's latest disappearance, as if that oddball didn't have a new act every weekend. Toushirou made sure to let Juushirou know not to worry about that clown privately. Toushirou was one of the newest members of their coven, after his former coven was incorporated into Seireitei due to their small number's inability to handle the increase of ghoul attacks, and since he was so new and youthful, he was still leered at. He knew it was necessary to make friends. Juushirou, a handsome and ancient fae, was amiable and liked by almost everyone. He was a great in for Toushirou.

He glanced at himself in the mirror by the door one last time. His suit was starched, his bedhead handsome. Telecommunications wasn't his favorite occupation, but it was better than his managerial position at McDonalds. It wasn't like his demonic pride was intact in the first place.

At five in the morning, traffic was a blur of barren red lights until the intersection a block away from the call center where he was employed. Brittany Coschtz pulled up in her little Prius, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, with her shiny pink hair pulled back into a messy bun, and her smile wide as the Amazon River. She was pretty. Toushirou let himself go in recent years when he compared himself to her. His neck sinews smoothed out, his chest was undefined. Nonetheless, he couldn't help but imagine sexual exchanges.

Brittany pulled ahead of him once the light turned green. His wood shrank. Toushirou missed the flat expanse of his groin.

In the parking lot, Toushirou paused when he came upon the security guard in the middle of a heated argument with an older woman.

Seconds later, Toushirou disregarded the encounter. It wasn't the first time someone trespassed and was warded off by security. His job was to train entry-level phone staff. It wasn't his concern.

"Good morning class," Toushirou said when he finally arrived to the training room. "Cell phones away, it's not like there's service down here anyways."

Phones were tucked away before he confiscated them. He began to boot up his desktop. "We're starting with escalations today. Bring up the curriculum and select the first hyperlink under escalations."

"Toushirou, did you see the chick outside?"

He rolled his eyes. Of course they wouldn't share his apathy to the subject. "Yes. I walked right past her and Dwight talking. He's got it covered. Don't worry about it."

"I saw Brittnay pull in earlier, but I didn't see her come in. Is she okay?"

"Everything is fine. Let's just get to work. Dwight has been working security here for sixteen years. He's more than capable of taking care of trespassers."

"Yeah, but like... did you see her teeth? She had like giant fangs. Are they fake?"

That did concern Toushirou. He hadn't picked up any ghoulish malevolence, though. Who knew what it was.

All said and done, Toushirou was disconcerted. What if they were to be attacked within the hour? Toushirou worked so long to preserve the life he crafted for himself. It took years to reach a comfortable job, to blend into humanity. He wasn't sure he had the patience to completely change his identity in the event he had to protect himself.

"Alright, everyone open the curriculum and go to week three and start on Situational Calls Overview. We'll go over it as a class in half an hour. If you forgot to clock in, make sure to send me a time card correction now so I can fix it."

Not a second later, the sound of crushed rocks ripped through the room. The force of the shockwave sent Toushirou into the opposite wall. He was covered in brick dust, it tasted like ash.

Toushirou became livid.

He grew a webbed crown and serrated teeth from his head. His fingers and toes lengthened and tapered off, crystalline scales sprout from his pores. His tailbone grew like a new spine into a thick tail like a lizard's.

He snarled at the two wretched ghouls. They fucking stank. It made his sinuses buzz from the irritant. His claws itched to fucking gut them.

He lunged with an open hand wound back to take out its head. His claws tore through the ghoul's side. He spun and slammed his heel into the gut of the other ghoul. Alas, the severe internal damage to both monsters unfazed them.

"Stubborn cunts!" Toushirou bellowed. He kicked one of them square in the ribs an he used it as a springboard to kick its partner with his razor-sharp toes.

He was pushed off his perch. His chest heaved like he was hyperventilating. Toushirou with his ancient tongues struggled to articulate something that described the feeling. Mechanically, he pushed himself up, and he slipped in a pool of oil. His blood.

The ghouls descended. He shrieked and flailed.

Toushirou would not let himself die at the hands of some fucking byproduct.

His bloodied palms slapped against his chest. From his back grew wings, and with a single thrust he launched himself into the air.

---

The train stopped every-fucking-where in the UK, and when Karin, Ichigo, and Rukia realized that, they collectively agreed to take a nap. Karin had trouble sleeping, however.

Rukia was a petite woman who met them at the station. Her and Ichigo were good friends. Strangely enough, Karin was never told about Rukia, but Ichigo was absent-minded and forgot about a lot of things, especially things which kept them in the loop.

Like the one time he and some friends he had in high school were exploring a storm drain when it suddenly flooded. Ichigo was pummeled by debris and forgot to tell his family about it. Subsequently, he constantly forgot to change his bandages, and about a month and a half after the flood when Karin realized he was injured, she helped redress his wounds and happened upon an exponentially worse wound. Of course, he chalked up the pain to bruising. Karin's brother was a dumbass.

As tired as Karin was, she was nervous to meet Kisuke Urahara. She replayed her earlier conversation with Rukia once again.

"Rukia, are you from Seireitei?" Karin asked as they were led into a private carriage.

"Of course I am. You won't find any other covens where we're going. Our leader doesn't tolerate the division of power. Yamamoto's power is absolute, and he's become more iron-fisted with this ghoul infestation."

"Infestation?"

"I know it's getting bad back in Karakura, but in London, I can't go anywhere outside of an armored, insulated car. The ghouls are so great in number that they swarm upon catching our scent."

"And we have to go there in order to meet Urahara?" Karin asked.

"Yes. Although, I'm not sure why he needs you, Karin," Rukia replied.

"He asked for the strongest of us. Karin is in heat," Ichigo said.

"Oh, that explains the smell, at least," Rukia replied. Karin wasn't one to be ashamed over her base needs, but she wished Ichigo wasn't so open about her maturation. It felt like there was a revolving door into her sex life. For someone like Karin, who preferred all facets of her life neatly compartmentalized, the overlap was absolute hell.

Ichigo quickly changed the subject. "Any guesses why Urahara wants the strongest of us?"

"Honestly? Sacrifice," Rukia postulated. Karin never came into contact with a full-blooded demon in the past, and especially not when she needed something from them. Uryuu told her how demons adored bloodshed and debt though. They loved it even more than a starved vampire loved blood.

"Cheerful today, aren't you?" Ichigo mumbled.

"You asked."

"I really hope they haven't asked for the strongest to send on a mission or some shit. Those ghouls are getting nastier. I don't want to get caught up in that alone," Karin confessed. She was rarely scared, never for herself, but Karin feared the unknown above all else.

Like when her mother passed away. Karin vividly remembered Masaki's funeral, where she refused to cry because if she started, she wasn't sure she could stop. Her father obsessed over the bills for awhile, and because of that, Karin lost a lot of sleep over the thought of homelessness, and then her grades dropped. She was so scared to unbottle her fear that the only way she kept from bursting like a hot dog over an open flame was to hurt hersel. There was still a scar on her stomach.

Rukia reached between them and held her hands like her big sister Yuzu did. "You won't be alone," Rukia assured Karin, "I promise."

Karin, unsure how to respond to sincere and earnest affection, changed the subject. "So who is this Urahara guy?"

"He's a demon exiled from the Seireitei coven. He's largely hailed as a genius though, so we had no choice but to reach out to him about the ghoul infestation. Here we are now," Rukia explained.

"How bad is it in London, then?" Karin asked.

"Martial Law is being discussed by Parliament."

"You've gotta be shitting me.... It's gotten that bad already?" Ichigo said. "Oh god, I thought we had it bad."

"It's torture, honestly. I haven't been able to go to work since I almost always end up getting ambushed whenever I leave my flat. If I don't apply medicated lotion, which I happen to be allergic to, I can't even go outside because they catch my scent." Rukia pulled up her sleeve and showed her bright red hives. Karin swallowed a thick lump in her throat.

"Jesus Christ," Ichigo said. "Rukia, why didn't you tell me? We have fae in our coven. They'll certainly have something for you to alleviate some pain."

"I consulted one of our own fae, Juushirou Ukitake. Even with undiluted blood, he couldn't help me. Our witches allied with our coven can't even help."

"Look, let me talk to Orihime. She has considerable healing powers. We'll see what we can do for you."

"This is sweet and all," Karin said, "but how're we gonna meet up with this Urahara guy?"

"There will be an armored truck for us at the station," Rukia said. "The driver knows where to take us."

"This isn't sketchy or anything…" Karin grumbled.

Four and a half hours after that, Karin was still nervous like the conversation was fresh. When they pulled to a stop in London, and Karin saw a windowless van outside her window, she felt sick.

---

Tessai Tsukabishi and Kisuke Urahara were in the kitchen when Toushirou Hitsugaya crashed through the ceiling onto Tessai.

"Fuck," Kisuke cursed. Tessai very coolly laid Toushirou on his back. The boy's lips were an unearthly green from hypovolemia. "Get the kids. Let them know we'll be having guests. Remind them to use the incense while they're waiting," he said. "I'll fix this kid up in the meantime."

"Alright, dear, holler if you need anything."

Kisuke opened his shirt. His insides crawled towards Toushirou.

---

Karin's head collided with the truck's interior and she cursed at the top of her lungs. "Careful up there! You're gonna bash my fucking brains in!"

"Karin… calm down," Ichigo told her. She spun towards him, her nostrils flared, and he looked away.

"That's what I fucking thought," she grumbled.

"We shouldn't be much longer," Rukia assured them.

Sure enough, the truck came to a stop, and the engine was killed. Karin, Rukia, and Ichigo happily crawled out of the back of the truck. A chill went down Karin’s spine. A reanimated corpse certainly explained the haphazard driving. If Kisuke Urahara wasn't above reanimation, though, what did he have in mind for her?

"This way," Rukia said. They entered through the back door of a green, two-story house, closed off with a warped wooden fence even taller than her brother. Someone the smell of mosquito repellent permeated from the very ground itself.

They followed Rukia down a bare concrete staircase to a dimly-lit, half-finished basement. There were six other people crammed together around a short poker table and covered in a fog of incense.

"Welcome. I'm glad you could make it," said a young woman, around Karin's age, with dark hair and ice-blue eyes. "My name is Ururu Tsumugiya. I'm one of Kisuke's children. He had a last minute patient come in so he had to take care of that first. He should be done shortly, however. In the meantime, have a seat."

Rukia pulled up a chair, but Ichigo and Karin shared a look that told them both the other one was more comfortable standing.

"No offense, but the tension is thick as hell here," Ichigo announced.

"That's because Toushirou Hitsugaya was attacked by ghouls this morning at his place of employment," said a youthful woman, with blond hair and rows of jagged teeth. "He's here now. Kisuke Urahara is patching him up."

Ichigo and Rukia became visibly disturbed. "Tier… this can't be true," Rukia said. "What happened?"

"That's all we know so far," Tier said.

"If you ask me, if he kicks the bucket, it's his own fault for not being able to defend himself," said a giant, black-haired man.

"Karin… these are Genryuusai Yamamoto, Kenpachi Zaraki, Yachiru Kusajishi, Ururu, Tier Harribel, and Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez," Rukia quickly explained to Karin. "This can't be true, though. Hitsugaya is one of our strongest entities! He couldn't have been overpowered by ghouls."

"He's not going to die," Tier said coolly, "But it's the truth."

"We're in quite a dire situation," Genryuusai said. He was certainly as intense as Rukia made him out to be. Even when he lamented, Karin felt like he was angry with her specifically. She decided she didn't like Genryuusai Yamamoto. Karin figured he was under a lot of stress, but he was also inconsiderate enough to not reign in his malevolence.

"Is this really your strongest, Ichigo? I'm surprised," Kenpachi Zaraki said. "I was under the impression you were the strongest."

"She's in heat," Ichigo said.

"Hey, I am right here, people. Instead of bringing it up to my brother, bring it up to me," Karin snapped.

"She's right," Tier said with a nasty glare aimed at Kenpachi, "if you have questions concerning Karin, ask her." He uncomfortably shifted in his seat.

"I'm sure she'd be much more comfortable if you stopped bringing up her maturation, Ichigo."

Karin, and most the other table, leapt to action at the sudden intrusion. Ururu was suddenly in front of them. The hollow barrel of a gun obscured Karin's vision.

"Alright, everyone calm down. I didn't mean to startle everyone…" Kisuke said. Slowly, weapons were lowered.

"These are certainly trying times, if every single one of you are on edge," Kisuke said as he took a seat. "I'm glad to announce I've found a way to eradicate this problem, however."

"And how is that?" Genryuusai asked.

"If you let him speak, he would tell you," Tier quipped.

"This… isn't going to be to your liking. Tier, Kenpachi, and Karin. You three are the strongest from your current covens. We are going to combine your powers, essentially."

"That's it?" Kenpachi asked.

"Well… no. This is an extremely experimental procedure, so I have no idea how it works to begin with, and I have no idea how the three of you will come out."

"These extreme measures for… for a ghoul infestation?" Ichigo exclaimed. "Absolutely not! I'm not letting my sister go through this thing without knowing what the hell she's gonna come out like."

"There's more to this infestation than he's letting on," Yamamoto announced.

Kisuke interlaced his fingers and laid his chin on them. "Unfortunately…. This hasn't been proven yet, but I believe there is a certain individual within our ranks responsible for the increased ghoul activity."

"You mean someone had begun puppeteering them?" Rukia said.

"Aye."

"Well, who is it?" Yamamoto spat.

"I'm not sure…. It could be Sousuke Aizen, Mayuri Kurotsuchi, and Shuutara Senjumaru. They are the only individuals with the means to achieve this caliber of invasion. I have no clues to which one it might be. But all of them are shrewd and powerful. We need extra firepower to take down the villainous one."

And if they didn't, they would all be attacked, one by one, until they were all annihilated.

"I'm in," Karin said. "I don't care what you think, Ichigo. We have to do this."

Ichigo stood stiller than a statue, stunned by Karin's resolution. It hurt her to see him that way. As much as Karin loved her family, there were problems bigger than them to begin with.

Tier sighed. "I suppose I'm obligated to protect my people, as well."

"I'm just down for a good fight," Kenpachi said.

"Then let's get the three of you ready."

---

Momo crashed into Nemu's family room. Mayuri Kurotsuchi was instantly neutralized by a ball of fire. It wasn't enough to kill him. All Momo wanted was to question Nemu why she apologized right before Toushirou blew up.

For the time being, at least.

Nemu cowered beneath a desk as Momo stormed over. Normally, the sight would have made Momo's heart quiver, because she knew what that kind of terror felt like, the icy terror of angry loved ones who you adored with every bit of soul. But family didn't murder their loved ones. Momo was no saint in that department, but she hadn't killed anyone knowing their innocence.

"What the fuck do you know about my brother?" Momo bellowed as she grabbed Nemu and lifted her into the air. "If I don't think you're being honest, I'll hurt you."

"I'm sorry," Nemu wept. "I tried talking him out of it. I know how much Toushirou means to you, but Mayuri refused to listen to me. He said Toushirou is too much of a threat."

"For what?"

"He wants to take over London, and then Europe from there. He's making ghouls for an army. He says making the strongest of the Seireitei into ghouls will increase his manpower several fold."

"You're lying!" Momo snapped. "Demons cannot be made into ghouls. They're a mindless byproduct of our feeding on humans."

"He's a genius. He found a way to splice DNA or something. I got so scared I couldn't hear anymore." Nemu attempted to pry Momo's hand off her neck. "You know what it's like. You know he'll kill me if I try to run away."

"So you fucking killed my family?" In her fit, Momo threw Nemu across the room. She readied a ball of fire. "You never told us a thing. You know Izuru and I would have done anything for you! But you never said anything."

"I'm sorry," Nemu cried. "I didn't want him to hurt me."

Momo faltered. She understood, better than anyone else. She understood, because Sousuke was the same.

"I hate myself for siccing ghouls on Toushirou, but I didn't have any other choice." Nemu stood and hugged Momo. "I love you so much, Momo. I didn't know what to do."

Momo picked Nemu up. She tenderly held her. "I forgive you," she said. "Let's get you out of here, honey. We'll get you help, okay?"

Suddenly, Momo's head exploded with a monumental headache. Blood flowed down their faces. The two toppled to the floor, where Momo saw Mayuri loom over them.

"Get up, Nemu," he ordered, "that's not going to keep her down long."

Nemu stood. Momo may as well have cried with Nemu as they dragged her down a flight of stairs. Momo knew she was bound to be turned into a ghoul like Toushirou, so she wailed, despite how her ears rang.

"Help me," she pleaded. Nemu only cried and apologized between her hyperventilations.

"Help me," Momo pleaded, as they threw her battered body onto a steel gurney. "Please, help me."

Nemu escaped to a chair by the door. Momo's head lolled to the side to watch Mayuri flick a hypodermic needle with his freakish manicure. Inside, a green mass, green like watered grass, swam. Momo could only beg to be let go as he approached with that awful serum.

When he stuck Momo's arm, her entire world crashed around her for the second time in her life.

Momo was murdered and her body enslaved by a sick motherfucker. First her soul, then her body followed. She hoped death would be total that time around as her arm rot at the injection site.

"Come, Nemu, we have other work that needs to be done," Mayuri said. Momo was left with a heavy sense of dread.

And anger. Again, Momo was betrayed by someone who was supposed to love her, it made her a fool, but she was tired of her compassion misused by cruel, selfish bastards.

"Burn," she growled. They all could burn for all she cared.

"Burn." She gushed fire, like a geyer.

"Burn." Her flames touched the plaster ceiling and blackened golf ball sized spots.

"Burn."

Fire, white from rage, burst out of her body, whirled around the room like a typhoon, and blew apart Mayuri's house. Momo pushed rubble off her body. She stung from head to toe from her burns. Nonetheless, the cops were on their way. She had to go.

---

"Karin-chan?"

Masaki sat in front of Karin. In the mirror behind her mother, Karin saw herself as a child again, with short hair mussed from her baseball cap and a band-aid on her cheek and weird, gangly limbs and her adult fangs too big in her mouth.

"Are you okay, my dear?" Masaki asked.

Karin wanted to tell Masaki she died more than a decade ago. But it was like the day before her mother's death. Karin wanted to throw herself into her mother's arms and never let go.

"I'm okay," Karin said. The mirror and the walls bled kanji characters. Kill her, it read.

Karin's heart sank in her stomach.

"I'm gonna take a bath," Karin said.

"Leave the door unlocked," Masaki told her.

Karin dashed upstairs and turned on the bath water. She cursed quietly. What the hell was happening? Where the hell was she, if she was somewhere which demanded her mother's murder?

Was it part of Kisuke's ritual? If so, what the hell was she supposed to do? Was she supposed to kill her mother, or find another way to defeat her and abide by a secret moral of the quest?

Either way, Karin was nauseated. Obviously she wasn't a stranger to murder. She killed many ghouls, had some accidents when she was immature. It was different when it was someone close to her.

The stairs creaked. The back of Karin's neck bristled like an animal alerted to danger. She locked the bathroom door.

How the hell was she supposed to get out of there?

The walls bled murder again. The bathroom door rattled violently. "Karin-chan," it boomed with a perverted rendition of her mother's voice, "I told you not to lock the door! Open up this second!" Karin dug through the vanity. Whoever was on the other side of that door wasn't Karin's mother. Masaki passed away years ago. The Masaki beyond the door was only a nightmare.

Karin popped out the razor blades from one of the fresh razors. She fit them between the fingers of her right hand. Sweat beaded down her neck and stained her shirt.

Gingerly, she reached out to unlock the door, when it splintered. She screamed and backpedalled, only to be pounced on. Blearily, she saw Masaki's hair curtain her from the light above. Drool, foul to the nose, fell on her cheek, and despite the water in her eyes, she made out jagged laniary.

Karin slapped the beast. It reared back thanks to the cut she gave it. Karin rushed past it for the kitchen. She dropped the razors in the sink and picked up their largest knife from its seat in the knife block. The creature topped down the stairs with elongated limbs. Karin saw, with her eyes clear of wood, she doled significant damage to its face.Karin readied her knife as it charged. When it leapt into the air to tackle Karin, it fell onto the knife.

Karin let the beast down. Although winded, Karin cried fresh. Her mother's hair was beautiful.

She tossed the knife into the sink, wiped her hands on her pants, and exited through the front door.

---

Karin popped out of the membrane she floated in. She hoisted herself up, rolled her shoulders, squeezed out the excess fluid in her hair, and sighed.

She felt different. Hungrier.

Karin stumbled through the surreal landscape. Ichigo waited by the door. He wrapped her in a pink shroud.

“I’m so hungry,” Karin mumbled.

“Okay, let’s get you something to eat. Come with me. Let’s get you washed off and something in your stomach.”

Karin’s body felt ill fit. Karin scrubbed herself with all kinds of suds and soaps and perfumes but the feeling didn’t fade.

She stepped out, pressed a towel against her hair, and wrapped it around her torso. Ichigo was outside with sweats, boxers, and a sports bra. She dressed, and when Karin returned outside, he wrapped her waist in a gait belt.

“Kisuke says vertigo will be an issue until you eat. Otherwise, are you okay?” Ichigo asked.

“Yes,” Karin whispered.

“What was it like in there?”

"I don't want to talk about it."

“You had to be the worst of the worst, didn’t you?”

Karin nodded. Ichigo's eyes were straight ahead. He looked sad, and it didn't evoke the sympathy it did before.

“Come on, let’s get you some food.” Ichigo guided her by her gait belt. She did stumble once on their way to the kitchen up a flight of stairs, but otherwise, the trip wasn't anything noteworthy.

She was sat at the island counter in a dim, windowless kitchen. Ururu, Kisuke's daughter, entered a moment later.

"I was hoping you would be the one to make it out. God knows that derelict Kenpachi wouldn't have been very useful."

"I wouldn't say that. I can still feel him in me, his bloodlust," Karin said before Ichigo tossed her a disposable blood package. "He may not be the most cooperative to you, but he'll prove essential in the future."

Tier was quite rational and analytic. She was kind enough to have shared her experience with Karin.

"I've been wondering how exactly these ghouls are increasing in number so quickly. I can't think of any current events that would lead to such a flux of byproducts," Ururu said.

"Geez… you're right. Sousuke Aizen's experiments are almost all dead now. There hasn't been anyone capable of such destruction gone AWOL either," Ichigo chimed.

"Yet," Karin said. "I'm sure we have a mole in our ranks."

"Who do you think it is?" Ururu asked.

"I don't know. All I know is someone knew to sic a ghoul on Toushirou, and they knew exactly where to sic them. He smelled like he took great measures to blend in with humanity. He couldn't have been caught by surprise. And who else would know when and where are ride would come pick us up?"

"Holy shit," Ichigo cursed. "Does your dad know about this?"

"I'm sure he's figured it out."

"So he's using us to find evidence so he doesn't make claims that Yamamoto is gonna say are outlandish."

"That's where my money is, and whoever it is, Urahara knows we'll need something like you, Karin, to stop them," Ururu replied. Her phone vibrated in her shirt pocket. "Just a minute. Urahara and Company, this is Ururu."

Ururu's eyes widened. "Bring Momo here. We'll operate immediately. Thanks, Shuuhei." Ururu clapped her phone shut. "I have to prep the operating room. Looks like we have an unusual situation come up."

"Best of luck," Karin said.

---

Momo was not a happy fucking camper, especially when her body still regenerated. Her favorite fucking coat altogether evaporated too.

All she fucking wanted was to use someone's phone for two seconds to call Izuru.

"Drop your phone. If I have to tell you one more time, I'm gonna fucking burn you," she snarled.

It was a child. They cried like Nemu cried, like a scared kid. Momo had time for guilt after she killed Mayuri.

"Drop. Your phone. I will count to three. I will kill you if I don't have your phone."

The kid tried to run. She pounced and burnt hair filled her nostrils as she bent to pick up their fucking phone. Dumbass kid, she grumbled.

"Baby, I'm really fucked up. I blew myself to shit."

"Momo, oh my God you're alive! Where are you?"

"I don't know," she replied.

"Stay put, baby, we're looking for you. Keep an eye out of Shuuhei's dogs, okay?"

"Izuru, I'm really fucked up."

"Look, we found Toushirou. He's being treated by Urahara. We'll take you there to get fixed up, okay? Just hang in there. Talk to me."

"I didn't mean to worry you." Momo's legs gave out on the grass. "I just got so mad. Nemu sent me a text apologizing right after I heard Toushirou got blown the fuck up." She wept. "Izuru, her and Mayuri are behind the ghoul attacks. He spliced DNA or something. I think he tried to turn me into one. I would've been real fucked if I didn't blow up.”

"You did good, baby. You did so good. Just hang in there. You're gonna be okay. Baby, tell me about your day at work."

"She was crying when he stuck me, you know, with that stupid ghoul DNA. She doesn't know what else to do. Don't be mad with her." Momo's regeneration couldn't keep up. She would expire soon, so she had to make sure Izuru knew everything that happened. "Tell her we still love her."

"No, you have to tell her yourself. Stay awake for us, baby. Tell me about work."

Momo's face was licked by a dog. She stared into it's eight, sweet, soulful eyes. "The only good men are dogs. I missed you, Venom."

"Venom is there? Venom, take her to Kisuke Urahara! Flatworm, feed her a piece of you!"

Flatworm was a Labradoodle-flatworm-dog with the ability of high speed regeneration. If part of its tongue was eaten, the consumer would shave death off for a good hour, and Venom, a rottweiler-spider-shaped dog, coughed up silk and wrapped Momo in it upon Shuuhei's command. It was cool and soft. Momo hummed peacefully and let the darkness of sleep take her.

Momo gratefully swallowed a piece of Flatworm's tongue. She would live for another day.

Izuru and Shuuhei rolled her onto a makeshift gurney they threw together with a canvas drop and a dolly. Izuru held her hand in the back, pleaded with her to stay conscious a minute more. When Momo was rolled out of the truck, they were grey shapes that took her inside and put her beneath a bright light.

Yuzu choked. She futilely attempted to pry her attacker off.

"How cute. You're very cute, Yuzu Kurosaki. Even when you smell like fish, you’re cute."

Addie's body rest upon the stained and rank sheets of her bed. Yuzu couldn't bear to look at the carnage. Not then, not ever. It was as futile as her escape, though. The image was burned into her brain.

"Don't worry, cute little Yuzu. You won't be in pain for much longer."

He brandished a thick syringe. She kicked her legs. As if she could avoid her fate, a cynical part of her thought. Her diluted vampire blood left her defenseless. When it plunged into her neck, she went limp.

"It'll be over soon," he promised her.

It was euphoric and nightmarish. Her arms and her legs went numb, her vision tunneled.

Yuzu realized she was dying.

"I know it's scary, but you can now serve a greater purpose." Her mystery attacker told her as he pet her hair.

Yuzu looked to the young woman who stood silently in the corner. She silently begged to be helped.

The young woman didn't even flinch. She only whispered to herself.

"Nemu, pick her up and let's go," her captor said after he shoved a bag over her head. "We've got things to do."

[scarletwritingwolf]

There’s more, heads up; I’m sorry!

The Art of Healing

Chapter 8: What Could Have Been

I was hollow. I didn’t have a feeling left in me. The clipboard in front of me asked fairly simple questions, but nothing seemed answerable today.

The women’s clinic in Glasgow was quiet today, I’d had my assessment and I’d chosen today to have my procedure. This happened to be the anniversary of my parents death, so this day could get no worse in mind. My soul secretly hoped that my parents would look after my baby that would never be born, I hoped they were close today.

. . . . . .

It had been two and a half months since Jamie had taken me to show off his ‘project’. I watched from my apartment window for the whole weekend following that fated Friday, I watched Jamie’s car pull into the car park of his apartment building, I watched as he came out onto the street making rapid phone calls trying to find me. No light was switched on in my apartment that weekend. No door was answered, even when I heard his concerned voice on the other side, or the furious pounding of his fist.

I rang Joe, making my excuses telling him that I was sick, and needed to take a vacation for two weeks at least. Joe understood, grateful that I had a replacement to recommend.

Two further weeks passed, and being house bound had begun to take its toll, I did really begin to feel ill. It began with vomiting, and I was so tired all the time. It took me 5 weeks post Jamie, 5 weeks of no working, and constantly feeling ill, to realise that my period was late. I was pregnant.

Joe visited often, but it was only upon making my realisation that I finally confided in him. I was desperate.

“Lady Jane, every part of your complicated puzzle finally makes sense. My question is what is your next move?”

“I can’t keep this baby Joe, it’s everything I ever wanted, but not without a family, it isn’t the right time.” Saying the words was like swallowing a big bitter pill.

“And Jamie? What do you tell him?”

“Nothing. He stopped coming after I spent my second week hiding, his daily flowers stopped with his visits. I assume he’s moved on by now, the curtains are drawn because I’ve forbidden myself to look.”

Whether or not my reasoning was rational, I found I couldn’t face Jamie again, knowing that he was the boy from my childhood meant that there was still one living connection to my parents and their time on this earth. To me this connection was unacceptable and painful. I was afraid that if I continued to spend time with him that every time I looked at him I would only see our past selves.

“I’ll support you in whatever you decide Jane, but please let me help you. Just promise me that you will take a good amount of time to think things over before you do something that can’t be undone.”

“I will Joe, thank you.” Tears streaked my face, I was so glad to have a confidant. I felt completely broken, and hopelessly alone.

I went back to work eventually, I took a different route to get there, ate my lunch religiously in my office, and purposely went home late at night, after I knew Jamie would have finished his evening jog.

There was still the issue of my pregnancy, I’d set up an appointment in Glasgow to have an assessment done. Joe’s wife Gail would travel with me, and stay the week with me there. Glasgow was anonymous, I knew too many doctors and therapists in Edinburgh and I didn’t want them gossiping about me.

A problem that I hadn’t considered was the visible bump that had begun to protrude from my usually thin form, I had lost weight too, so it made my pregnancy even more obvious. I solved this issue during the day by wearing loose fitting dresses and layers to work, but at night I was battling a hideous case of the sweats and was wearing as little as possible.

On the evening before my trip to Glasgow, I was going through one such case of the night sweats, I was wearing a little tank top and pyjama shorts, but my lack of clothing wasn’t curing it. I grabbed my keys and decided on a short late night stroll downstairs to venture for fresh air. I sat on the bench outside of my apartment building for a time, my thoughts drifting, but I didn’t allow myself to think of the life growing inside of me; I never did.

I stood, and as I turned, I heard his voice. “Claire! Don’t walk away from me, you’ve had me out of my mind with worry.”

I stayed with my back to him, but he gripped my shoulder and turned me. His mouth moved as if to continue ranting, but when he looked me up and down he remained silent, as though the wind had been taken out of him.

“Claire.... ye’re... ye’re pregnant.”

“I know.”

He was clearly lost for words, I watched his internal battle; would he embrace me like his body told me he wanted to, would he yell at me, or would he ask the question he was burning to ask.

“Is it mine?”

“No.” I lied. My cheeks were burning, I was grateful for the dark, it disguised my blush.

“Then whose is it? You’ve been holed up in that apartment of yers for weeks. Have ye been seeing someone who can teleport?” His voice gave away a trace of anger, he had obviously been keeping an eye on me. “Do ye take me for a fool Claire? Tell me!” I didn’t respond, so he continued. “I’ve been sitting in silence, sometimes for hours at the other side of yer door, listening to yer crying, yer breathing, yer movements about the house. I’ve been trying to figure out why ye wouldna see me, and to work out a way to apologise. I stopped sending flowers, because it depressed me to watch them die on the doorstep. But dinna think for a second I stopped coming to check on ye.”

His words made my eyes prick with tears. I felt terrible, this man who hardly knew me, now likely felt extremely responsible for my welfare. And I wanted nothing to do with it. His presence was like a knife in my heart.

“Claire, I’ll sell the house, I’ll do anything, please just forgive me.” His pleading made me weak. I allowed him closer, up until now I had been taking steps back every time he took steps forward. His hand brushed my cheek, and he reached for my stomach, as he did so I took several steps back. “Why won’t ye let me touch ye Sassenach?” It was the recognition of the name he used for me that made me snap.

“Because if you touch me I’ll melt, and I can’t be around you, even just hearing you call me ‘Sassenach’ again it reminds me of a time when my parents were alive, I’ve already laid those memories to rest. This isn’t your child I’m carrying.”

“Yes it is Claire, ye are a terrible liar. I’ve gone through things in my life too Claire, but I choose not to run from them anymore, my parents are dead too, had ye considered that? That I ken the pain ye are going through?”

Honestly the thought had not occurred to me, and it really didn’t change much. He had dealt with his past, and I hadn’t, no one could force me to, not even him.

As I considered his words he walked towards me and took my hand in his, before I could protest he placed his other hand on my stomach.

“Can we talk about all of this Claire?”

“What ‘this’ do you want to discuss? My pregnancy? My house that you now own?”

“The bairn Claire, I ken that I might not be able to fix anything else to your liking, but I can help you with the bairn. Will you think about it?”

I barely nodded as I escaped his arms. I made to walk away, but I couldn’t help myself, I looked into his eyes. He whispered “Please, think about it.”

. . . . .

The following day I was sitting next to Gail on a plane headed for Glasgow, more determined than ever that I was doing the right thing for me. I wasn’t ready to be a mother, and certainly not the mother to Jamie ‘Sawny’ Fraser’s child.

My time in Glasgow had been a blur, and the day had finally come, I knew Gail expected me not to go through with it; she watched me like a hawk as I stared at the questions on the clipboard.

My stubbornness prevailed. Whether this proved to be a good or bad thing, only time would tell. I finished the paperwork, and was brought into a room where I put on a paper gown. The procedure was short, and I went back to the hotel room with Gail immediately after. Then I slept, and cried, and slept for 72 hours, barely eating, before I had to pack and get back to my life.

When the car pulled up outside of my apartment, I gave Gail a kiss on the cheek and thanked her for escorting me and for being there. I dropped my bags inside my apartment, and decided to head straight out again and go for a walk. I felt fragile, health wise I was fine, I had been healing nicely, and almost all traces of my pregnancy had disappeared. My soul, on the other hand, needed desperate attention. I walked awhile and then headed for my favourite bench seat, but it was occupied.

He had heard me coming. “Where have you been?” He asked, “I’ve been by yer apartment everyday, but I havena heard ye, did ye go somewhere? Did ye think about what I said?”

He looked up, surveying me. It dawned on him that I was no longer sporting the bump of early pregnancy. He stood up, and gave me a look that I didn’t recognise.

“Did ye do this to yerself?” He pointed at my stomach. “Did ye remove it Claire?”

I felt ashamed, and couldn’t muster the words to tell him I had, so I nodded.

I’d never seen someone change so quickly in my life, his expression was one of pure loathing. “How the fuck could ye do it? Take away our bairn. Take it away without even consulting me!”

“It wasn’t your decision to make.” I said simply, believing my words to be true. It wasn’t his choice.

“I’ve been here hoping that ye were taking time to think about what I said to ye last week, and now this shit. I’ll never forgive ye.” His eyes flashed dangerously, but instead of saying anything else, he walked away from me.

I yelled after him. “You don’t understand Jamie, I wasn’t ready, I don’t know how to have you in my life, I’m scared, I don’t know how to deal with everything I’m feeling about you, about my parents, about the baby.”

He carried on walking. His pace never once faltering.

I was still convinced what I had done was the right thing; irrespective of how I felt about dealing with Jamie and his relationship to my past, our romantic relationship was too new.

But when I looked inside of myself, I knew it was only my stubbornness that had carried me this far in my rift with Jamie. What sort of a psychologist could I be when I was so fucked up. I needed to fix it with him, but I had no idea where to start, and quite frankly I wasn’t sure that there was anything I could do.

What I did know was that while I worked on Jamie, I also needed to work on finally putting my feelings about my parents death to rest.

I fell into a deep and disturbed slumber once I was back in my apartment and in bed. I hadn’t been able to shake the horrible sinking feeling of loss, the loss of something that I had once wanted so desperately, even knowing it wasn’t the right time, I couldn’t convince myself out of feeling it.

[sowjanyabp]

Know The Difference Between IVF And ICSI Treatment

Know The Difference Between IVF And ICSI Treatment

ICSI stands for intracytoplasmic sperm injection

This is when doctors extract sperms from the testicles of men who have had sex with their wives for several months, and use them to fertilize an egg. The process almost always results in a pregnancy, but it can be expensive and difficult, which is why most people opt not to try.

There are two ways to achieve this result: using donor eggs or through artificial insemination. Donor eggs usually costs more money, and you will need to find someone who has already used this method.

Artificial insemination is where they put semen into your vagina instead of your uterus. This way, your body doesn’t know that the male contributed anything to your conception. It also means no risk of uterine infection.

However, this procedure is much less effective than the other option. A study conducted by Dr Shouman Danesh found only one embryo per cycle on average with a 71% success rate.

This makes ICSI a very risky strategy, as there’s a lot of uncertainty about how many embryos to transfer. Most hospitals offer screening tests to check whether the endometrium (the inner layer of the uterus) is receptive to an embryo.

These are done either just before ovulation or at any early stage of development. If the test reveals that there may be good-quality embryos after transplantation, then the embryologist performs ICIS to remove all visible sperm from the sample.

IVF stands for in vitro fertilization

In plain English, this means treatment that uses human eggs to produce embryos which are then implanted into the woman’s uterus through either natural mating or surgery.

Many women are under the impression that only men need IVF because of their concern over “involuntary infertility” caused by diseases such as HPV (human papillomavirus), STDs (sexually transmitted diseases), gonorrhea and chlamydia.

However, it is important to note that while these conditions may cause male infertility, they do not affect female fertility.

So even if a man has one or more of these infections, he can still father children with his wife who is infertile due to cancer or another medical condition.

What makes couples like John and Mary different from men affected by HPV, STIs or other sexual disorders is just how sensitive their sperm are.

The exact sensitivity threshold is unknown but it is believed to be very low. What this means is that any sperm cell infected by HPVs or STDs will have altered functioning and/or replication and thus will likely not survive the process of fertilization and implantation.

Once pregnant, the child could be born with severe birth defects; however no known cases of transgenerational inheritance occur naturally. Doctors inject millions of healthy sperm cells into women every day in an effort to achieve pregnancy. However, most of those sperm die before they reach the fallopian tubes.

Both IVF and ICSI are forms of fertility treatment

In vitro fertilization (IVF) is an assisted reproductive technology used to treat people who suffer from infertility, or have very low egg counts. It can also be used for patients who would like to have children with special needs.

During this procedure, the surgeon removes sperm from the male’s semen and inserts it into the female’s vagina. The couple then engages in sexual intercourse after which the woman’s eggs are removed via surgery. Subsequently, these embryos are put back into her body where they will develop into offspring.

In contrast, intracytoplasmic morphologically assessed sperm injection (ICSI), sometimes called “micro-TESE”, is when only one sperm is inserted into the female’s ovum. This makes the pregnancy more likely to succeed as there is less competition for the lone sperm.

Both procedures are expensive and time consuming. They both require multiple visits to the clinic over several weeks. But what if there was another way? What if you could get pregnant quickly with no risk? What if you didn’t have to take hormones that increase your blood pressure and cause mood swings? What if you could get pregnant right away without any delay?

The type of treatment you receive depends on your individual circumstances

There are two types of fertility treatments, in vitro fertilization (IVF) and intrauterine sperm injection (ICSI). Both involve extracting eggs from the ovaries and removing a woman’s uterus to create room for an embryo.

However, there is a difference between these two procedures. With IVF, we can extract multiple eggs at once.

With ICSI, only one egg is extracted. This egg is then put into the woman’s uterus directly using a catheter. In both cases, embryos are created through insemination — the insertion of male semen into female reproductive fluids.

When many eggs are harvested, as with IVF, it becomes more likely that some will have no male partner or be unable to produce healthy children. When only one egg is used, as with ICSI, the chance of having genetically normal kids is higher, but still not guaranteed.

Both ICSI and IVF are used to treat male and female infertility

Infertility is defined as being unable to conceive children, despite sexual intimacy and fertility treatments. In men this can be caused by poor sperm quality, low mobility of the sperm cells, or a small volume of ejaculated sperm. In women it can be due to a blockage of the fallopian tubes that carry eggs from the ovaries to the uterus (uterine factor), or because the egg cell does not develop properly before implantation in the uterus (embryonic factor).

Infertile men may benefit from treatment with intracytoplasmic sperm injection (ICSI), which uses a needle to inject individual motile sperm into the man’s semen. Or they may receive donor sperm through artificial insemination.

Women who suffer from uterine factors can also benefit from hysterectomy or hormone replacement therapy. Endometriosis and polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS) are two common uterine conditions that can be treated with surgery. Hormone replacement therapy uses drugs such as birth control pills to regulate a woman’s hormones.

You can receive both treatments simultaneously

One of the biggest misconceptions about in vitro fertilization (IVF) is that it’s more expensive than intra-cytoplasmic sperm injection (ICSI). In fact, many clinics now offer them simultaneously. This allows patients to choose which method of treatment they prefer.

Some people feel more comfortable with one technique over the other. Patients who don’t like or are unable to do one may prefer the other.

Both techniques have their advantages and disadvantages. For example, some studies show that ICSI is better at treating male infertility, while others find that IVF gives better results for female infertility.

In general, however, you will need both techniques during each cycle to achieve pregnancy.

Talk to your doctor about your options

Both treatments offer couples who are trying to conceive a chance to try pregnancy. They work somewhat differently, with both being effective for most people.

In vitro fertilization (IVF) is more common, but individual embryos are created in the laboratory and placed into the woman’s uterus, where they can meet her eggs and contribute their own genetic material. The process of creating embryos is called “fertilization.”

The average cost of one round of IVF is $10,000 to $12,000, although it costs much less if you do not have as many eggs or embryos to produce them. If you receive tax credits, this could reduce your total cost to around $6,000.

Intracytoplasmic sperm injection (ICSI), also known as artificial insemination, is similar except that male infertility factors are overcome by injecting single sperm cells directly into the egg cell. ICSI is often used when there is a problem with the number of eggs or when female age is a barrier to conception.

The success rate for IVF is roughly 35% across all types of infertile women. When done at home, the overall live birth rate is 32%. At an clinic, it is 45%. There are several things that can be done to improve the odds for IVF, including changing your diet, using antioxidants, and having fewer kids.

IVF is more common

With in vitro fertilization (IVF), you and your partner create thousands of embryos, which are used to test pregnancy. If there are no signs of pregnancy after two or three rounds, then doctors move onto intracytoplasmic sperm injection (ICSI). In this process, they inject human sperm into the egg without passing any bacteria through. This can lead to pregnancies faster than with traditional IVF.

However, these treatments are more expensive and have longer cycles. Also, only about 30% of patients qualify for IVF.

Meanwhile, ICSI is very effective for male infertility but has higher failure rates than IVF. Therefore, we recommend that men try first IVF before trying ICSI if necessary.

ICSI is more effective

In vitro fertilization (IVF) involves taking eggs from your ovaries and placing them in your uterus, where you are trying to get pregnant. During this process, you will use medication and surgery to remove sperm and a laboratory procedure called intracytoplasmic sperm injection (ICSI) to insert one or two sperm into the egg.

The goal of ICSI is to produce a baby with aneuploidy, which is abnormal number of chromosomes. Aneuploidy can occur naturally before birth but usually leads to death. With ICSI, doctors check the chromosome number of the gamete (sperm or egg), not that of the embryo. By having only correct chromosome numbers, doctors can be sure that any child produced by ICSI will be healthy.

However, even if both partners carry normal copies of all 22 pairs of chromosomes, they may still have problems producing children through natural intercourse. Other factors that affect whether you will become pregnant include age, cause of infertility, and health.

Choose the best fertility treatment for yourself that will ensure you the joy of motherhood. Sitting with your doctor and analyzing your and your partner’s health will help you choose the appropriate treatment.

Still, confused? Consult Dr. Sowjanya to know what is the best treatment for you. Go for a planned parenthood! Call us now at 7827475131!

[confrontingbabble-on]

“These twelve dubious concepts promote conflict, cruelty, suffering and death rather than love and peace.

1. Chosen People –The term “Chosen People” typically refers to the Hebrew Bible and the ugly idea that God has given certain tribes a Promised Land (even though it is already occupied by other people). But in reality many sects endorse some version of this concept. The New Testament identifies Christians as the chosen ones. Calvinists talk about “God’s elect,” believing that they themselves are the special few who were chosen before the beginning of time. Jehovah’s witnesses believe that 144,000 souls will get a special place in the afterlife. In many cultures certain privileged and powerful bloodlines were thought to be descended directly from gods (in contrast to everyone else).

Religious sects are inherently tribal and divisive because they compete by making mutually exclusive truth claims and by promising blessings or afterlife rewards that no competing sect can offer. “Gang symbols” like special haircuts, attire, hand signals and jargon differentiate insiders from outsiders and subtly (or not so subtly) convey to both that insiders are inherently superior.

2. Heretics – Heretics, kafir, or infidels (to use the medieval Catholic term) are not just outsiders, they are morally suspect and often seen as less than fully human. In the Torah, slaves taken from among outsiders don’t merit the same protections as Hebrew slaves. Those who don’t believe in a god are corrupt, doers of abominable deeds. “There is none [among them] who does good,” says the Psalmist. Islam teaches the concept of “dhimmitude” and provides special rules for the subjugation of religious minorities, with monotheists getting better treatment than polytheists. Christianity blurs together the concepts of unbeliever and evildoer. Ultimately, heretics are a threat that needs to be neutralized by conversion, conquest, isolation, domination, or—in worst cases—mass murder.

3. Holy War – If war can be holy, anything goes. The medieval Roman Catholic Church conducted a twenty year campaign of extermination against heretical Cathar Christians in the south of France, promising their land and possessions to real Christians who signed on as crusaders. Sunni and Shia Muslims have slaughtered each other for centuries. The Hebrew scriptures recount battle after battle in which their war God, Yahweh, helps them to not only defeat but also exterminate the shepherding cultures that occupy their “Promised Land.” As in later holy wars, like the modern rise of ISIS, divine sanction let them kill the elderly and children, burn orchards, and take virgin females as sexual slaves—all while retaining a sense of moral superiority.

4. Blasphemy – Blasphemy is the notion that some ideas are inviolable, off limits to criticism, satire, debate, or even question. By definition, criticism of these ideas is an outrage, and it is precisely this emotion–outrage–that the crime of blasphemy evokes in believers. The Bible prescribes death for blasphemers; the Quran does not, but death-to-blasphemers became part of Shariah during medieval times.The idea that blasphemy must be prevented or avenged has caused millions of murders over the centuries and countless other horrors. As I write, blogger Raif Badawi awaits round after round of flogging in Saudi Arabia—1000 lashes in batches of 50—while his wife and children plead from Canada for the international community to do something.

5. Glorified suffering – Picture secret societies of monks flogging their own backs. The image that comes to mind is probably from Dan Brown’s novel, The Da Vinci Code, but the idea isn’t one he made up. A core premise of Christianity is that righteous torture—if it’s just intense and prolonged enough–can somehow fix the damage done by evil, sinful behavior. Millions of crucifixes litter the world as testaments to this belief. Shia Muslims beat themselves with lashes and chains during Aashura, a form of sanctified suffering called Matam that commemorates the death of the martyr Hussein. Self-denial in the form of asceticism and fasting is a part of both Eastern and Western religions, not only because deprivation induces altered states but also because people believe suffering somehow brings us closer to divinity.

Our ancestors lived in a world in which pain came unbidden, and people had very little power to control it. An aspirin or heating pad would have been a miracle to the writers of the Bible, Quran, or Gita. Faced with uncontrollable suffering, the best advice religion could offer was to lean in or make meaning of it. The problem, of course is that glorifying suffering—turning it into a spiritual good—has made people more willing to inflict it on not only themselves and their enemies but also those who are helpless, including the ill or dying (as in the case of Mother Teresa and the American Bishops) and children (as in the child beating Patriarchy movement).

6. Genital mutilation – Primitive people have used scarification and other body modifications to define tribal membership for as long as history records. But genital mutilation allowed our ancestors several additional perks—if you want to call them that. In Judaism, infant circumcision serves as a sign of tribal membership, but circumcision also serves to test the commitment of adult converts. In one Bible story, a chieftain agrees to convert and submit his clan to the procedure as a show of commitment to a peace treaty. (While the men lie incapacitated, the whole town is then slain by the Israelites.)

In Islam, painful male circumcision serves as a rite of passage into manhood, initiation into a powerful club. By contrast, in some Muslim cultures cutting away or burning the female clitoris and labia ritually establishes the submission of women by reducing sexual arousal and agency. An estimated 2 million girls annually are subjected to the procedure, with consequences including hemorrhage, infection, painful urination and death.

7. Blood sacrifice – In the list of religion’s worst ideas, this is the only one that appears to be in its final stages. Only some Hindus (during the Festival of Gadhimai) and some Muslims (during Eid al Adha, Feast of the Sacrifice) continue to ritually slaughter sacrificial animals on a mass scale. Hindu scriptures including the Gita and Puranas forbid ritual killing, and most Hindus now eschew the practice based on the principle of ahimsa, but it persists as a residual of folk religion.

When our ancient ancestors slit the throats on humans and animals or cut out their hearts or sent the smoke of sacrifices heavenward, many believed that they were literally feeding supernatural beings. In time, in most religions, the rationale changed—the gods didn’t need feeding so much as they needed signs of devotion and penance. The residual child sacrifice in the Hebrew Bible (yes it is there) typically has this function. Christianity’s persistent focus on blood atonement—the notion of Jesus as the be-all-end-all lamb without blemish, the final “propitiation” for human sin—is hopefully the last iteration of humanity’s long fascination with blood sacrifice.

8. Hell – Whether we are talking about Christianity, Islam or Buddhism, an afterlife filled with demons, monsters, and eternal torture was the worst suffering that Iron Age minds could conceive and medieval minds could elaborate. Invented, perhaps, as a means to satisfy the human desire for justice, the concept of Hell quickly devolved into a tool for coercing behavior and belief.

Most Buddhists see hell as a metaphor, a journey into the evil inside the self, but the descriptions of torturing monsters and levels of hell can be quite explicit. Likewise, many Muslims and Christians hasten to assure that it is a real place, full of fire and the anguish of non-believers. Some Christians have gone so far as to insist that the screams of the damned can be heard from the center of the Earth or that observing their anguish from afar will be one of the pleasures of paradise.

9. Karma – Like hell, the concept of karma offers a selfish incentive for good behavior—it’ll come back at you later—but it has enormous costs. Chief among these is a tremendous weight of cultural passivity in the face of harm and suffering. Secondarily, the idea of karma can sanctify the broad human practice of blaming the victim. If what goes around comes around, then the disabled child or cancer patient or untouchable poor (or the hungry rabbit or mangy dog) must have done something in this or a previous life to bring their position on themselves.

10. Eternal Life – To our weary and unwashed ancestors, the idea of gem encrusted walls, streets of gold, the fountain of youth, or an eternity of angelic chorus (or sex with virgins) may have seemed like sheer bliss. But it doesn’t take much analysis to realize how quickly eternal paradise would become hellish—an endless repetition of never changing groundhog days (because how could they change if they were perfect).

The real reason that the notion of eternal life is such a bad invention, though, is the degree to which it diminishes and degrades existence on this earthly plane. With eyes lifted heavenward, we can’t see the intricate beauty beneath our feet. Devout believers put their spiritual energy into preparing for a world to come rather than cherishing and stewarding the one wild and precious world we have been given.

11. Male Ownership of Female Fertility – The notion of women as brood mares or children as assets likely didn’t originate with religion, but the idea that women were created for this purpose, that if a woman should die of childbearing “she was made to do it,” most certainly did. Traditional religions variously assert that men have a god-ordained right to give women in marriage, take them in war, exclude them from heaven, and kill them if the origins of their offspring can’t be assured. Hence Catholicism’s maniacal obsession with the virginity of Mary and female martyrs. Hence Islam’s maniacal obsession with covering the female body. Hence Evangelical promise rings, and gender segregated sidewalks in Jerusalem and orthodox Jewish women wearing wigs over shaved heads in New York.

As we approach the limits of our planetary life support system and stare dystopia in the face, defining women as breeders and children as assets becomes even more costly. We now know that resource scarcity is a conflict trigger and that demand for water and arable land is growing even as both resources decline. And yet, a pope who claims to care about the desperate poor lectures them against contraception while Muslim leaders ban vasectomies in a drive to outbreed their enemies.

12. Bibliolatry (aka Book Worship) – Preliterate people handed down their best guesses about gods and goodness by way of oral tradition, and they made objects of stone and wood, idols, to channel their devotion. Their notions of what was good and what was Real and how to live in moral community with each other were free to evolve as culture and technology changed. But the advent of the written word changed that. As our Iron Age ancestors recorded and compiled their ideas into sacred texts, these texts allowed their understanding of gods and goodness to become static. The sacred texts of Judaism, Christianity and Islam forbid idol worship, but over time the texts themselves became idols, and many modern believers practice—essentially—book worship, also known as bibliolatry.

“Because the faith of Islam is perfect, it does not allow for any innovations to the religion,” says one young Muslim explaining his faith online. His statement betrays a naïve lack of information about the origins and evolution of his own dogmas. But more broadly, it sums up the challenge all religions face moving forward. Imagine if a physicist said, “Because our understanding of physics is perfect, it does not allow for any innovations to the field.” Adherents who think their faith is perfect, are not just naïve or ill informed. They are developmentally arrested, and in the case of the world’s major religions, they are anchored to the Iron Age, a time of violence, slavery, desperation and early death.

Ironically, the mindset that our sacred texts are perfect betrays the very quest that drove our ancestors to write those texts. Each of the men who wrote part of the Bible, Quran, or Gita took his received tradition, revised it, and offered his own best articulation of what is good and real. We can honor the quest of our spiritual ancestors, or we can honor their answers, but we cannot do both.

Religious apologists often try to deny, minimize, or explain away the sins of scripture and the evils of religious history. “It wasn’t really slavery.” “That’s just the Old Testament.” “He didn’t mean it that way.” “You have to understand how bad their enemies were.” “Those people who did harm in the name of God weren’t real [Christians/Jews/Muslims].” Such platitudes may offer comfort, but denying problems doesn’t solve them. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Change comes with introspection and insight, a willingness to acknowledge our faults and flaws while still embracing our strengths and potential for growth. In a world that is teeming with humanity, armed with pipe bombs and machine guns and nuclear weapons and drones, we don’t need defenders of religion’s status quo—we need real reformation, as radical as that of the 16th Century and much, much broader. It is only by acknowledging religion’s worst ideas that we have any hope of embracing the best.”

Valerie Tarico is a psychologist and writer in Seattle, Washington.

https://valerietarico.com/2015/01/20/religions-dirty-dozen-12-really-bad-religious-ideas-that-have-made-the-world-worse/

[dark-and-twisty-01]

Sharee Miller - Instant messaging murder

Jerry Cassaday spent nine years of his short life as a sheriff’s deputy in Cass County, Missouri. For a time he did quite well. His skills and qualities were recognized and he became a lieutenant. 

However, by 1994 the job had begun to sour so Jerry resigned from the force. Life, it seemed, was on a downward spiral. His marriage broke up and he was abusing drugs and alcohol. Several years passed before Kerry finally managed to grab the reins and begin turning his life around. Then in 1998 he got a job working in security at Harrah’s North Kansas City Casino and Hotel. The following July found the former police officer working at the chain’s casino in Reno, Nevada.

It was there that he met a vivacious blonde named Sharee Miller. She was married, but that did not seem to be much of an obstacle. Sharee had not been Mrs Miller for very long - just a few months, in fact. Her husband, Bruce, 20 years her senior, was a worker at General Motors. On the side, he owned an auto salvage business. Though she was just 27 years old, Sharee’s marriage to Bruce was not her first, nor was it her second - Bruce was her third husband. They lived in Flint, Michigan, together with three children from Sharee’s previous marriages. 

After years of hardship, the new bride was now living in the sort of comfortable lifestyle that had previously eluded her. The home Sharee shared with her new husband, while not luxurious, was a far cry from the trailer in which she had grown up. However, she showed she had a reckless streak by obtaining a number of credit cards and running each of them up to their limits.

Adult chat room

Bruce was a hard worker, a trait that Sharee seemed to have picked up. She became a Mary Kay beauty consultant. Hours were spent on the computer each day, supposedly in an effort to grow her business. Trips down to Reno became a frequent thing. In reality, though, Sharee’s computer time was devoted to corresponding with Jerry. 

The pair had met though an adult chat room - Sharee went by the name of ‘Iwanttobelaid’.

The business trips were nothing more than clandestine meetings with her lover. Despite the distance, the relationship between the pair moved at a rapid pace. They began to talk of marriage and starting a new family together. In September, two months after their first meeting, Sharee told Jerry that she was pregnant with his child. It was only a matter of time before they would be starting a new life together. The only obstacle, it seemed, was Bruce.

On 23rd September 1999, Sharee transformed the hard-working auto worker into a fictional character that either he nor anyone else would of recognized. Corresponding through AOL Instant messages, Sharee informed her boyfriend that she had suffered a miscarriage.

‘This next part will be hard - I lost my baby, Jerry.’

‘No.’

‘I never thought I would ever tell you that he [Bruce] hits. I got in trouble because I was with you.’

Over the course of the messaging, Jerry asked where Bruce had hit her. At first Sharee appeared reluctant to share the information, but eventually she relented. 

‘He didn’t hit me, Jerry; he raped me - I lost the baby because of the force.’

For Jerry, the news was devastating - almost too much to bear. On the following day he told Sharee how bad he felt.

‘No one, I mean no one, is going to get away with the things he has done to you.’

When he told Sharee to leave her husband and go live with him, she responded that Bruce would never let it happen. He was, she claimed, a powerful person in the world of organized crime. According to Sharee, her husband was involved in drug trafficking and money laundering. As if it needed saying, she added that he was a man capable of violence.

Incredibly, the very next month, Sharee announced that she was again pregnant. Jerry, it seemed, would be the father of twins. She sent her lover sonograms of their two babies over the internet. Jerry was ecstatic. However, on 5th November, within days of the happy news, Jerry’s mood underwent another dramatic shift when he received an email that was addressed from Bruce’s account. It began: 

‘Sharee is growing fat with two bastards in her. She has decided she doesn’t like the excess weight and is going to get an abortion.’

Frantic with grief, Jerry made a desperate attempt to contact his lover, but he only met with failure. More than a day passed before he heard from Sharee. There was no telephone call, just a brief email.

‘This is Sharee. I am going away for a few days, I will contact you next week sometime.’

Another day passed. Then Jerry received a second email from Bruce’s account.

‘Well, Jerry, she told me to let you know she would be home soon. I think the abortion went fine. She sounded like she felt better knowing she wasn’t having the kids... Thank you for making my relationship with my wife better.’

Hours later, Jerry received an email from Sharee. She had sent him several disturbing photographs of herself. It appeared that she had been beaten. He knew that Bruce had to die. In the early hours of 8th November, the former sheriff’s deputy and his girlfriend used instant messaging to plan the murder.

Sharee: ‘Jerry, Don’t look at him, don’t talk to him.’

Jerry: ‘Don’t worry.’

Sharee: ‘You yourself said to me.’

Jerry: ‘I know.’

Jerry: ‘That if I looked at him, or talked then I couldn’t do it.’

Sharee: ‘He will beg.’

Jerry: ‘But that is different, I don’t know him.’

Sharee: ‘And you know it. Just do it and get the hell out of there.’

Jerry: ‘I want him to know who I am.’

Sharee: ‘Jerry, please’

Jerry: ‘He will not know for long.’

A few hours later, Jerry got into his car and drove the 11 hours from his home in Odessa, Missouri to Bruce’s auto salvage yard. It was a trip that made easier ny Sharee, who provided directions. She had even told him which roads to take in order to avoid encountering the police. After making good time he arrived at about 6:30 pm. As it happened, Bruce was still in his office. This fitted in well with Sharee’s plans. She had told Jerry that it was better to kill her husband indoors because the sound would carry less. The auto worker was on the phone to Sharee, talking about getting a takeaway pizza. He hung up as Jerry made his way into the office.

The one-time sheriff’s deputy aimed his .22 calibre shotgun at Bruce and said, ‘Hi, I’m Jerry.’ With that Sharee’s lover pulled the trigger, killing Bruce instantly. He then got into his car and drove home. But it was almost as if the shotgun blast had also killed the stream of electronic correspondence between Sharee and Jerry. The smitten casino worker continued to write, but more often than not he was met by silence.

After a couple of weeks, Sharee told him that their relationship was over. This was true enough - two weeks after Bruce had been killed, she had moved in with another man.

The body

Bruce’s body was discovered by his brother and his sister-in-law. Sharee had called them after her husband had failed to return home from work. Initially, the police believed that the whole thing was a robbery gone wrong. After all, the assailant appeared too have taken the dead man’s wallet and Bruce was known to carry very sizeable amounts of cash around. The authorities zeroed in on John Hutchinson, a former employee who had been in trouble with the police on several occasions. He also owed Bruce several thousand dollars. Hutchinson had no alibi for the evening - surely, he must have done it.

Yet the police also kept an eye on the widow. Upon being told of her husband’s murder, Sharee had demonstrated understandable shock and grief. However, two days later, she had been spotted dancing and simulating sex at a bar in Otisville, about 18 miles outside Flint. Even so, the investigation was progressing rather slowly - but it would soon get a shot of adrenalin. 

Suicide notes 

On 11th February 2000 Jerry sat in his recliner. It overlooked the small lake bordered his nondescript Odessa apartment building. With an open Bible on his lap, he pushed the muzzle of a .22 calibre rifle into his mouth and pulled the trigger. He left behind a number of suicide notes, including one addressed to his parents that read: 

I was so blind and so stupid and so much in love. She just wanted all her money and no husband... I know it was all just more lies and games from Sharee. She didn’t care what it took or who it hurt to get what she wanted.

Jerry’s next note was directed towards his brother. The dead Jerry asked his brother to retrieve a briefcase that was located under his bed. He was to take it to John P O’Connor, a Kansas City lawyer Jerry once had.

When O’Connor opened the case, he found that it contained transcripts of the electronic correspondence between Sharee and Jerry. The police were to uncover an even more evidence on the hard drive of Jerry’s computer. It was clear to the police that Sharee had plotted her husband’s murder. On 22nd February 2000 she was arrested and charged with conspiracy ad murder in the first degree.

Sharee’s trail began on 13th December 2000. From the start, the prosecution was able to demonstrate the subtle ways in which Sharee manipulated Jerry. The lovelorn casino worker had been led to believe that she was married to a dangerous, abusive man. Not only that, Sharee had also managed to convince him that she was carrying his babies. In fact, it would not have been possible. Sharee had opted for a tubal legation after the birth of her third child. The procedure had taken place before she met Bruce, never mind Jerry. The sonogram pictures were not hers at all. If Jerry had only studied them carefully, he would have seen that they dated from 1994.

The defence argued that the police came to the right conclusion at the very start of their investigation. Bruce had been murdered by his former employee John Hutchinson. They also suggested that Sharee’s lies had been aimed at scaring Jerry off, leaving her free to work on her marriage with Bruce. However, there was too much evidence stacked up against her.

On 23rd December 2000, after two days of deliberation, the jury found Sheree Miller guilty of conspiracy and second degree murder. A month later she was sentenced to life imprisonment. She will not be eligible for parole until 2055, at which point she will be 84 years old. 

In april of 2008, Sharee married husband number four, a 56-year-old man named Michael Denoyer who had contacted her after watching a report on her case on television.