#like the bulk of it is anxiety and the throat issue but all of it??

[thelaughingmerman]

I had like such a good day until about 7 o'clock and the anxiety hit me like a freight train

[keilemlucent]

steaming

(r18+)

pro hero! todoroki shouto / reader

ao3

word count: ~3.8k

You and Shouto have been busy as hell and haven't seen each other much, but a 'relaxing' (read: horny) trip to an onsen is sure to remedy any and all lost time

warnings: pro hero shouto, onsen sex (please do not fuck in onsens im begging u please learn etiquette for onsens too), temperature play, a little bit of insecure reader well

this is a piece for the fanfic event yagami yato server i’m apart of! the theme for this month was an onsen getaway so here u go! hope y’all enjoy ;^)

The onsen trip was one that Shouto had been particularly excited about. It was a small place in Akita, far away from the drone of the city that the two of you were both accustomed to. 

Both you and Shouto had been working ridiculously hard the past several months, stretching to your physical and mental limits. It had taken a toll in many areas of your shared lives, but a lot of it was on that quality time the two of you were able to spend together. 

Shouto wasn’t particularly clingy, but he was definitely starting ache for you. It had been far too long since you’d been able to relax as a couple. A weekend onsen getaway seemed like the perfect opportunity for both of you to unwind and spend some quality time together. 

Shouto tended to go... overboard. Mostly due to the fact that though he was perceptive, he was also somewhat dense. You’d gotten fairly flustered when Shouto dropped that he reserved the entire resort for the two of you. It was small and family-run to begin with, but still. It felt a little excessive, but part of you was relieved that no public, prying eyes would disturb the two of you.

When the two of you arrived, the resort was surrounded by pretty autumn leaves, all orange and yellow hues that stretched through the rolling hills. 

It was overly relaxing, almost. 

By the time the two of you were able to check-in and settle down, the sun had already begun to set low in the sky. 

You dropped down on the futon in your somewhat small room. The day of traveling had worn you down, leaving a bit of sleepy haze clouding your mind.

“Baby?” Shouto flopped down beside you, pulling you close and burying his nose in your hair. “Are you feeling alright?”

You hummed, nodding, “Yeah, just a bit tired. Do you want to try out the hot springs tonight or wait until tomorrow and get some rest now?”

Based on the way Shouto let out a rolling, deep chuckle, getting ‘rest’ was unlikely, “Let’s try them tonight, hm? Get some of that stress out of your shoulders.”

As if to emphasize the point, Shouto’s lithe hands went to rub at the stiff muscles. You could only press into his touch, practically purring.

One of the cheekier parts of this trip was that the onsen Shouto specifically rented allowed didn’t have any separation of sex. It was more than acceptable for you and Shouto to share the same pool at the same time. Most of the other exceptions that you and Shouto were sure to need had been... ‘ prepaid for�� (read: Shouto bribed the very nice owners who were sure to be kept up long into the night for several days in a row).

Shouto and you did have to separate for the different lockers room to rinse, but that was hardly an issue. If anything, it was incredibly therapeutic to have a few minutes to yourself before the so-called ‘main event’ of the (long) evening.

Shouto had been remarkably busy with hero work. Being one of the top heroes in Japan had been taking a deep toll on him, even if he was amazing at hiding it. You had been busy as well, far busier than usual. Part of you, a larger part than you wanted to admit, was terrified that you and Shouto’s relationship would fall apart due to sheer lack of contact.

The fact that Shouto had somehow arranged an entire vacation behind your back mostly smoothed that fear over, but one still wondered and worried.

As you rinsed yourself down in the locker room spray, scrubbing your body of any bit of scum and dirt that you could. Perhaps you were taking too long— perhaps it was purposeful.

Because you and Shouto had not done anything sexual in what was, in your book, a considerable length of time. 

It wasn’t intentional, the two of you had clarified before leaving, but it still was the cause of a somewhat unbridled wave of anxiety that you couldn’t escape. 

Old insecurities gnawed at you, fear, its swirling relative. 

This was all magnified by the fact that you’d be very naked with your very attractive partner for the first time in a while.

You gulped, shutting off the spigot and toweling off somewhat. With unsteady legs and a half-covered body, you made your way out to the onsen itself.

As you pulled open the door to the outdoor area, you felt the bite of the wind chill the water droplets still clinging to you.

The unpleasant feeling was washed away rather quickly as you took in the scenery. The area was rocky and mossy, leading to a smaller hot spring, bubbling away with steam rising lazily from its depths. Trees ringed the onsen’s outcrop, obscuring any potential wandering glances. It was all lit by soft, warm, modern-looking stringed-bulbs, wound high above.

The best part, of course, was Shouto looking very smitten with you, as he was already submerged.

“I was wondering where you were,” He laughed so easily, beckoning you by tapping the water. 

You could only muster up a half-assed smile, “Would you believe me if I told you I got cold feet?”

You didn’t see his expression as you turned around to walk into the hot spring, incredibly quickly, after removing your towel. 

(If you had been looking, you would’ve seen Shouto’s eyes widen with your words, water losing steam as his ice side fired subconsciously.)

  Admittedly, the water did feel amazing against your skin. The heat of it curled around your body, seeping in your wound up muscles. You audibly moaned as you fell next to Shouto in the water, leaning your head on his shoulder. His arm wrapped around your waist, squeezing under the rolling water. 

A moment of calmness passed, the sounds of flora and fauna echoing off the natural stones and tall trees. 

“What do you mean by cold feet?” Shouto asked, eyes flickering down to meet your own. “

“Nothing bad, dear. It’s just...” Your voice trailed off with the anxiety in your chest spinning. You buried your nose in the muscle of his shoulder, a bit embarrassed. “It’s just been a minute, you know?”

Shouto raised an eyebrow, turning to move directly regard you, “I’m not sure I do.”

“Uh,” You stumbled, giving him a wobbly smile. “It’s just been a minute since we’ve, you know—”

“Had sex?” Shouto finished your sentence with his own teasing smile. 

Your face erupted in red, very obviously not from the hot water you both were submerged in. 

You physically lowered in the water, up to your shoulders, “Yes, had sex, Shouto.”

“Why would that make you anxious?” Shouto asked, mirroring your motion, not to give you guff, but rather comfort. 

“You know—” You paused before answering, eyes watching the light churn of the water as opposed to the Shouto’s incredibly focused gaze, “Just like, dumb insecurity stuff. You don’t need to worry about it, I’m just happy to be here with you.”

That made Shouto frown, rough hands grabbing your hips under the water, “I’m glad you’re here with, very glad, but I’d like to help if I can.”

You bit your lip, focusing on the way Shouto’s thumbs pressed and rubbed idle circles on the meat of your hips, “It’s just been a while, and I get scared that you... you know, will feel differently about me than before. In a bad way.”

Shouto was silent, unspeaking, and thumbs stilled on your skin. You knew him well enough to understand that he wasn’t upset, but rather in thought.

Suddenly, you were being dragged through the water onto Shouto’s lap. You yelped, grabbing his shoulders for stability as you ass settled on his strong thighs. With this arrangement, it was difficult to turn away from him as you had been. It was made even more difficult when Shouto gently grabbed your jaw, holding your face level with his own.

You gulped.

“Though I understand your anxiety,” His free hand massaged the bulk of your thigh. “I can thoroughly tell you its unfounded.”

The next moment, his lips pressed into yours. They were petal-soft, but there was force behind it as he moved against you. You couldn’t moaning against his mouth, hands falling against his chest as you moved ever closer.

Shouto seemed to have similar needs in terms of proximity, hand going to palm you ass beneath the water and pull you nearly chest to chest with him.

You broke away with a sharp breath, wetting your lip. Your eyes darted up to meet Shouto’s own, all blown wide in adoration and lust. He chuckled at you sheepishness, pressing kiss after kiss to your face. He dropped them onto the sweat-slicked skin of your cheeks, nose, chin, forehead, and eventually trailed them to your jaw and neck.

“(Y/N), you’ve given me quite the job to do,” Shouto murmured against the soft skin under your ear. 

You sucked in a harsh breath, nails digging into his shoulders, “Yeah? And what job is that?”

He hummed, suddenly licking a quick strip from your throat to the shell of your ear, leaving you with a sharp bite as he whispered, “I guess I just have to show you how I feel about you, with our time apart.”

The hand that had been cupping your ass moving slowly towards your sex, teasingly. Your hips shifted and the prospect, your need already dialed up with lost time. 

“I do feel differently about you, but it’s only positive, I promise,” Shouto assured you, going back to kissing your neck, going to bite and suck at your collar bones. “I just want you more than before.”

It had been so long since he’d been able to mark you up in the way both of you so enjoyed. One of your hands twisted in his two-toned tresses, crying out as he left a particularly dark mark.

“I missed you so much,” Shouto kissed the words into you, using both hands to half-lift and half-force you higher above the water, still straddling him but lifted up on your knees. Your chest was out of the water, nipples hardening in the autumns chill.

“S-Shouto!” You bit out as he palmed at one of your breasts. “Someone could see us!”

All he did was raise a sly eyebrow at you, blowing frosty breath onto one of your nipples, hardening it, and the droplets of water that clung to your chest. You hissed but quickly were soothed as it melted with the steam of the water below, leaving a tingly numbness dabbled across your chest.

You shuddered as Shouto took in his discovery. 

Temperature play was one of your mutual old favorites.

“I’m not too worried about that,” Shouto peppered your chest with kisses as he spoke, leaving a few dark marks on your breasts. They were sure to ache later, and the thought made you wet.

(Could you be wet? You were underwater—)

Any controversial thoughts you had were quickly seized as Shouto’s hand began to massage the inside of your thigh. You keened in the back of your throat, shuddering as his hand was so fucking cold, despite being surrounded by steaming water.

“Do you like it when I touch you like this, baby?” Shouto kissed the words into your chest. He hummed with what could only be satisfied as you trembled in his lap, nodding. 

“I do,” You sank lower in the water, recovering your chest in the process. It was an easy sacrifice as you could now, far easier, reach between your two bodies and gently grab Shouto’s cock. You rubbed your thumb of its head, loving the way Shouto’s stunning eyes closed in what was near rapture. 

You grinned to yourself, giving your own smattering of kisses to Shouto. Lovebites trailed down his neck, sparing not one of his more sensitive spots. Shaking exhaled breaths and soft grunts fell from his lips so beautifully as his hands trailed up and down your back, fisting in your hair when you found a particularly tender spot.

All the while, you pumped his cock at a somewhat tortuous pace. If he was going to get make you twitch for him every few seconds with his frigid hand, you were only going to give him a bit of satisfaction.

Though, that plan quickly went down the drain when his hand drifted closer to your sex, teasing at the apex of your thighs.

You fizzled out a whine, pressing your slick forehead to Shouto’s, watching the way his eyes opened, dilated pupils regarding you in the same way a man starved would.

“Some options,” Shouto breathed again your lips, dulling the numbing use of his quirk, much to your chagrin. “I can fuck your pretty cunt in this hot spring, or I could fuck you over the side, or I could lay you out on that moss—”

You cut him off with a kiss, loving the small noise that came when his words stuck in his mouth. You drew away with the sweetest smile on your face, “Can I ride you like this?”

Shouto’s matched your grin with his own, kissing the side of your mouth sweetly, “Of course. Once I feel you’re properly prepared. It’s been acknowledged that it has been a while, and I’d hate to hurt you at all.”

“Well, at least on night one,” You smirked, reminding him that you still had several more days to go at one and other. 

Shouto rolled his eyes, all affection, before rolling his thumb over your swollen clit. You gasped out a clipped breath as he repeated the motion. You couldn’t help the way your hips rolled in his hands and the way your own tangled in his hair.

The lapse in your sex life truly hadn’t taken away Shouto’s ability to read your physicality. He knew just the right rhythm and speed to take things, having long since committed every inch of your body to his memory.

Like any length of time apart from intimacy would take that away from him. He coveted his knowledge of your body like a god cherishes its domain. 

Truly, he worshiped you in all aways and it was a crime that it had been so long that he had been able to show in. 

Shouto sank two elegant, long fingers into you, a pretty cry falling from lips. You pressed yourself into his neck, already starting to move your hips against his fingers.

“Eager, are we, baby?” Shouto teased, cursing as your hand was once again around his cock, giving it a rough pump or two.

You snickered against his neck between moans, dropping a few kisses on his pulse point, “Like you aren’t.”

His fingers curled just right, alternating between rubbing against the spongy spot in your cunt and stretching his fingers to ease you to open for him. 

You were all lovely, breathy moans for him, idly stroking his cock and dabbling him with slick kisses. You couldn’t do much else, truthfully. The feeling of Shouto’s fingers buried in your heat while being surrounded by heat was something heaven-sent, you were sure of it. It felt especially true as Shouto’s thumb moved back to circle your clit while his other fingers kept at work.

You could feel a rising heat in your gut and all you wanted was more of it. 

But not yet.

“S-Shouto, wait,” You cupped his face, eyes pleading. “I want to come with you, while you’re fucking me, please.”

Oh, what an easy request to oblige. 

Ravenously, he kissed, drinking you down like you were divine ambrosia. All you could do was fall against him, writhing as he gripped his cock on the surface, lining himself up.

Your nails bit into his shoulder as you bore down on the head of his cock, a little whimper sounding from the back of your throat.

It had been awhile. 

Shouto quickly hushed you, thumb going back to your clit as you sank down. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Shouto breathed, resting his head against your shoulder as he bottomed out.

You could only imagine how it felt for him, cock filling you up so well. For you, it felt like your brain was short-circuiting, the way his cock pressing up against your insides was turning you to mush. It had been far too long for both you, your breath matching in the way it shook.

“Fuck,” You managed to curse, readjusting your knees for more leverage. You truly did want to ride Shouto’s cock with every inch of your life, but based on the bruising grip he had on your hips, he wouldn’t stand for you doing much of the work. 

Slowly, you slide up Shouto’s cock, relishing the way how his normally controlled speech devolved into strings of muttered curses. The hand on his ice side kept firing cold on your hip, the odd but pleasant sensation making it all the more difficult to keep your thighs from trembling.

You nearly pulled off him, watching the way Shouto wetted his lips with blown pupils and half-lidded eyes. 

You let the tension of your legs go, slamming back down on his cock. Shouto cried out, hands tensing on your hips and you harshly bottomed out. 

You raised yourself up again, repeating the motion as sounds left your lips, unrestrained. A smug smirk came to your face as you watched Shouto’s blushing face come undone so beautifully.

You sank down on his cock a few more times, grinding whenever he was fully sheathed inside you. The way how his cock head bruised your cervix with each thrust made your insides feel gooey and warm. 

Shouto’s self-control was unmatched, fucking or otherwise. But, you could feel his hands start to twitch around your hips. 

“Baby?” He gritted out as you slide down on his cock once more. 

Your thighs shook from exertion as you wiped your damp hair from your face, “Yes, dear?”

“May I please fuck you proper? As much as I love watching you fuck yourself on my cock, I’m getting a bit—” He ground up into your cunt, angling his hips just right to hit your g-spot. “Impatient.”

You cried out, letting your forehead fall against him, still holding onto a bit of yourself, “So polite, Shouto.”

He thrust up into you again, drawing another sharp moan from you as your thighs shook around his own, “That’s not an answer, baby.”

“Please,” Your words came out half-broken as Shouto damn near smashed his lips into yours.

Without missing a moment, Shouto’s hands fire both heat and nearly unbearable cold. You jolt, hardly able to move due to the nature and strength of the grip he has on your hips. He fucks up into your cunt, adjusting your hips perfectly to smash in your most sensitive parts with familiar accuracy.

Your cunt clenched down around him, the heat of Shouto’s body combined with the hot spring making your head spin. All you could do was press yourself into Shouto’s neck, muffling your sounds and sucking at his salt-slick skin.

“I missed this,” Shouto groaned, bringing your hips down to grind deep on his cock. You pressed your face into his neck, not used to Shouto speaking so much during sex. “I missed your pussy so much, baby. Can you tell?”

When you didn’t immediately respond, mind approaching a fucked out stupor, Shouto took it out himself to pull out, rapidly repositioning the two of you.

You yelped as Shouto put you on your knees where he had just been sitting in the onsen, guiding your arms to rest out of the pool against the rocks and moss. He pressed down on the small of your back, forcing you into a deep arch. Shouto stood behind you, mostly out of the water, panting. 

He pushed into a moment later, hissing the new tightness of your cunt, somehow managing to speak, “Can you tell?”

“Yes!”  You sobbed out, voice shattering as Shouto slammed into you. 

Shouto (somewhat gently) tangled a hand in your hair, the other stabilizing your hips before fucking you with what could only be called reckless fucking abandon. If your sex hadn’t been submerged, the lewd, wet noises would’ve surely echoed over the nearby trees and rocks. 

Not that was really on your mind, nothing really could be except for the overwhelming sensation of Shouto fucking you with every he had.

Your arms scrapped against the rocks below you, but you could hardly care or notice. Your back ached as it was forced into its arch, Shouto slamming you even  better the deeper you curved it. 

your mind truly turned to mush as Shouto leaned over your form, his chest to your back, reaching a hand around to roll over your clit as he continued to pound into you.

“You’re going to come with me, right, baby?” Shouto gritted out, just next to your ear. You nodded with everything you had, pleasure and sensation making your toes numb. 

Shouto’s thrusts became more frantic, panting and grunts joining your whimpers and soft cries. Your entire body felt so fucking hot. Mixing that with your arousal was making your vision black-ringed. 

“I-I’m close, please," You begged Shouto, surrendering to your senses as you laid your head on your arms. “Please!”

“Since you asked so nicely—” You could hear the smirk in Shouto’s voice as he bit at your ear, stroking harder at your clit, and somehow fucking you deeper.

You damn near screamed as you came, vision leaving you as you finally were given release.

Shouto gave his own cry as he fucked you through his own orgasm, filling you with stringy cum with each thrust. 

Shouto panted as he slowed, staying inside you as he pressed a few gentle kisses to your shoulders.

“Baby? You alright?” Shouto asked way too sweetly for the how filthily he had been plowing into you moments before.

“Very alright, just like...” You nodded, body shaking and sweating, turning to face him.

You had to stop speaking, seeing the way Shouto was just beaming at you, two-toned eyes shining in the low light. He noticed, stifling a pure laugh, “Like?”

“I’m mush right now. Mush for you in general,” You gave your own laugh, cutting yourself off with a gasp as Shouto pulled out, leaving you feeling incredibly empty. You almost whined.

Shouto carefully guided you from the hot spring, mindful of the various aches and abrasions. As you exited, you wrapped yourself in your discarded towel, giggling to yourself.

“Something funny?” Shouto asked, raising an eyebrow as he similarly covered up. 

“Nah, not really,” You pulled him with an arm around his neck, planting a wet kiss on his hot, flushed face, just under his scar. “Just thinking about how I have all weekend to show you how much I’ve missed you.”

Shouto just chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and smiling, “I can’t wait to find out.” 

[silentprincess17]

Sometimes Things Have To Get Worse Before They Get Better

This is essentially a darker, heavier alternate take on Memory #7 - Blades of the Yiga. I wanted to write a fic with a competent Yiga Clan. (Yes you read that right). It is very angsty in the beginning and then becomes fluffy (hence the title!)

Summary: Link and Zelda have returned from Vah Naboris with Urbosa and have spent the night in Kara Kara Bazaar Inn. Link wakes up and finds her missing.

Cue the angst.

This story is complete and I will post each chapter daily on here but you can read the whole thing on AO3

Rating: Mature (Graphic descriptions of violence) Pairing: Link/Zelda (Zelink) Characters: Link, Zelda, The Yiga Clan, Master Kohga Trigger warnings for this chapter: Descriptions of blood, wounds and death. Also: there is a spoiler for one of the side quests in AOC (one of the things Link does for Zelda) and it's in the third paragraph before the last one so it's nearly at the end.

Read Chapter 1

Chapter 2: Ambushed

Link ran, sprinting through the sand, his boots coughing up a flurry of grains, sword already pulled out in his hand, pulsing as it recognised his anxiety.

A ball of fear erupted in his chest, and suddenly Link found his mouth dry and unable to swallow. He couldn’t deny it to himself then, it wasn’t just duty that motivated his actions. Hell, this-this need to protect her… It felt like something he’d always done, an innate instinct. Something deeper than his vows as her Knight tied him to her, probably something to do with his past lives, but he didn’t know how to explain it, and really, it scared him, sometimes, this urge that he had little control over. A lot of things scared him about the sword actually, and he wondered just how separate he truly was from it sometimes.

Despite running flat out, he was still a considerable distance away, but even from here, he could tell, it wasn’t looking good. She had run, valiantly, but there were two of them up ahead of her, he couldn’t make out just yet what Yiga Clan member they were, but he could see the Yiga Foot soldier behind her. And crap, she’d slipped and fallen, and Farore, just – just a few more seconds and he’d make it.

Please, please, please.

His heart thundered in his chest; his hands icy cold, clammy around the handle of his sword.

The three Yiga Foot soldiers approached her, okay, okay, this wasn’t good, no, they had Vicious Sickles, but he had the Sword That Seals The Darkness, and what better definition of darkness than the Yiga Clan, he would make it- and

Spirits

Three Yiga Blademaster’s poofed into existence beside the Foot soldiers, and together they slashed their windcleavers, aimed at his Princess’s throat.

NO.

Link jumped, sliced the first Foot Soldier in the chest, blood spurting outwards and he nimbly twisted to avoid it landing on him, and then aimed for the first Blademaster. Just before his blade hit that idiot’s neck, the other two began to laugh. The sickening Yiga Clan laugh that was so incredibly patronising, and Link was already feeling bad enough this morning and he had little patience left.

“Not so fast, Hero.” The Blademaster in the centre clicked his fingers and another three appeared behind the Princess, all of them pointing the tips of their windcleavers at her neck.

Holy Hylia. There were now 5 blades aimed at her, one of them pressed closed enough that she couldn’t swallow without fear of drawing blood. And he couldn’t bring himself to actually look at her, the one glance he’d had would forever scar him, she looked downright petrified. The sight made his blood boil, the sword glowed blue, but he had to be logical.

It wouldn’t do to attack the one whose neck was under his sword only for the other five to behead the Princess. Yes, he was fast. Yes, he was blessed with rapid reflexes. But even he recognised it would be impossible to eliminate all five without one of them harming the Princess before he finished. It would take seconds for them to nick her carotid artery, whilst he needed to slice through five necks. This would have been so much easier if she wasn’t in the middle of the fray. A simple charged sword attack aimed in the air would have exterminated the lot. He also couldn’t help but curse himself because he’d been an idiot and forgotten his bow, he hadn’t picked it up in all the rush of Zelda disappearing and now he severely regretted it. What he wouldn’t have done for a few electric arrows right now. He would have shocked the life out of them with all their metal weaponry.

“There’s too many of us, Hero, with too many swords at the ready to behead this pretty little blond thing. We only really have an issue with her Royal Holiness here, for she supposedly holds the power to seal away our God.” He laughed, “Although she isn’t that Holy, is she, eh boys?”

They all broke out into laughter, and Link decided that was the best opportunity he was going to get. He stabbed the sword into the first Yiga Blademaster’s neck, a fountain of red erupted out, just as Link shoved his body towards one of the remaining Foot Soldiers, who got trapped underneath the sheer dying bulk of the man. He rolled, pulling the Princess down so she was out of direct range of those windcleavers, and then he unceremoniously chucked her towards the opening he’d just created. She seemed to get the message and started to run, whilst he began to dance with his sword.

Move one to the jugular vein, two to the heart plus some ribs, three a large spin attack against the last Foot Soldier and three Blademasters who lunged at him, but he only belatedly realised one of them didn’t have a weapon, had they used the sickle as a boomerang? He distantly felt a muscle spasm, but that didn’t distract him, no, he ploughed through with the movement, effectively plunging the sword through the layers of skin, muscle and fat, and he leapt out of the resulting crimson blood spray that blended in with their armour. He had to admit, even if he wasn’t comfortable with the whole context of the sword and the trauma of seeing everything they had gone through, it was a beautiful blade. The best he’d ever had the honour of wielding.

His focus was shattered, suddenly, as he heard a painfully familiar scream, was it a memory or – no. That was His Zelda. He belatedly realised the last Yiga Foot soldier hadn’t remained trapped. He’d chased after the Princess and he had three darts pressed her abdomen, hard enough that she was whimpering, with his sickle wrapped around her neck, the curved edge milliseconds from ending her life. She had one hand alternating between trying to claw the mask off the Yiga’s face to ineffectively grasping at his hand wielding the sickle, the other outstretched to him, and it broke him a little.

His heart ached, his pulse thundering hard in his ears, because she was too far away for him to jump to her, too far to do anything without a damn bow. The bodies that littered the floor, and the blood that coated the sand around him weren’t enough, the one that remained would kill her, before he could do anything. Of that he had no doubt.

“Lay down your sword. And you may leave with your life. We do not care for the Hero, you’re simply a vessel for the Hero’s spirit and even if we kill you, you’ll just come back in some other lowlife’s body. We only care for the supposedly High Priestess Hylian Princess Zelda and the Sword that Seals the Darkness. Without those two, Hyrule will be blessed by Calamity Ganon’s unbridled power!”

He hesitated, and in that one second another four Yiga Blademasters appeared behind him, “DO NOTHING Hero. Remember what position your darling Princess is in.” The Foot soldier tightened his hold on Zelda and pressed the blade deeper into her skin and it cut into her neck, causing a small line of blood to leak down the blade.

That was the tipping point, Link saw red, and howled, hurling the Master Sword so that it pierced that wretched mask, straight into the bastard’s eye, and swung down with gravity to cut through his face.

And he turned around to face those remaining Yiga Blademaster’s with his bare hands, but instead he smelt the familiar incense of cool saffilina, which rang alarm bells in his head, this was used as a sleeping drought. He couldn’t do much more than gasp before a towel was rammed into his face, and he struggled against it, but suddenly the smell became so much more concentrated. He blinked, trying his hardest not to breathe, but the haze that descended on his mind regardless meant it was far, far more potent than the one he’d made for Zelda.

All of a sudden, he felt disturbingly dizzy, his legs like jelly underneath him. His eyelids abruptly felt incredibly heavy- he closed his eyes almost unwittingly, and then struggled to open them again. He barely managed to open one flimsily, and he saw vague red shapes ensnaring his Princess and all he could do was fall to the floor on his knees, shameful that he’d failed her.

She was screaming his name, and all he could do was raise a pitiful arm out to her, before he succumbed, and all he saw was black.

[nelllraiser]

severance | bea, luce, nell, & nisa (ft. rosemary and helena)

LOCATION: the council chambers of the witches of the silver flame. PARTIES: @beatrice-blaze, @divineluce, @nelllraiser, and @nisavurcl. SUMMARY: the vural sisters answer for their crimes. 

"And I will go if you ask me to. I will stay if you dare. And if I go I'm goin' on fire. Let my anger take me there"

When Clementine had come running to the coven council and Nisa about the strangeness of the Vural daughters, the matriarch had been ready to dismiss whatever was happening as one of her youngest daughter’s typical shenanigans. Certainly she wasn’t pleased, but it was hardly worth bridging to the council. But the longer Clementine had talked, the more dubious things became, and the harder the rock in Nisa’s stomach had grown. It was too elaborate of a story to be made up, and she herself knew of the animosity that August and Penelope had shared for the bulk of their life. How could Bea and Luce have gotten caught up in such things, though? They were meant to be more responsible than this. How had everything gotten so tangled when she’d only been gone for a couple of months? She waited with the other council members for her daughters to appear in the chambers. The only choice they’d had was to summon the three witches in for examination, to question them just as they would have done to any other coven member. For a long moment, Nisa had played with the concept of warning her daughters. She’d always been one to believe in facing the consequences of one’s actions, but this was a step up from that in severity. She hadn’t reached a decision, and her lack of decision had found her running out of time to warn them, thus the Vural daughters went unaware of why they were being brought forth to the council. As the three of them filed in, she cleared her throat, straightening her back in her chair to become the formidable council member she was known to be. “Beatrice Vural, Lucinda Vural, and Penelope Vural— you’ve been summoned by the Witches of the Silver Flame to answer for accused crimes that fall outside of this coven’s parameters.”

Rosemary clasped her hands tightly around the wooden arms of her chair, her eyes dark and unreadable as she stared at the girls who stood before the council. The Vural girls. She should have known that it would be them, but she’d doted on them as children. She could still remember the three of them being tutored with the other young children of the coven-- bright, studious Beatrice, quiet, moody Lucinda, and excitable, energetic Penelope. With no children of her own, she’d viewed all the young spellcasters of the coven as extensions of her own family. But, the allegations Clementine had approached the council with, talks of murder, of dark magic and necromancy? The women who stood before her were not those same children. They had gone down an unforgivable path, done unspeakable things to one of their own. A member of their coven. “You stand before this council facing the following charges: the practice of dark magic, the practice of necromancy and human resurrection, and the murder of another member of this coven, August Thompson.” Rosemary spoke, doing her best to keep her voice level and calm. Just as she remembered the Vural sisters as children, so too could she remember young August, always trying so hard to prove himself. How could they do this? How could these girls do… any of it?

When Clementine had come forward with her claims, Helena had been beyond thrilled. The Vurals had been good enough members of the Coven and she had no issues with them, but this gave her the opportunity to gain more standing on the Council. Everyone would be looking at Nisa now and if Helena was lucky, the woman would step down with grace after this scandal. Then there was room for someone new and more aligned with Helena’s thoughts to join the council. Her chin tilted upward, face stern as she looked over the woman. “We have witness testimony and evidence against you. Telling us the truth will make things much easier for you.” Helena hoped they would be too much like their mother to step down from a challenge of their pride. “How do you plead?”

Nell hadn’t seen her mother since she’d returned from Turkey, not knowing how to explain away the scars that encompassed her entire arms, nor the one that went a third of a way across her neck. Especially in conjunction with the matching one Luce had, and the one that spanned Bea’s entire neck. But it seemed that someone had done the explaining for them. Standing in front of the council on trial for their actions was not how she’d expected it to go, though. As she took in the council, a sinking stone formed swiftly in her gut, weighing her down in a way that made her push her shoulders back forcefully, as if trying to prove that she wouldn’t be defeated by it, or the witches sitting before her and her sisters. They wanted a plea, and there was really only one way this could go. The council already had the information, and there was no use in fighting it. In addition, the truth spell placed on the chambers wouldn’t permit any of them to lie. At this point, it wasn’t a matter of whether or not they’d be found out, but what their punishment would be. Maybe she could draw a good amount of the attention. Take the blame like she always had growing up. Nisa’s favorite target. So Nell stepped forward, apart from her sisters to say. “I plead guilty.”

On some level, Luce had known that their actions would come back to bite them. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, had instead taken to hiding her fears with violence and anger and lashing out with magic. Of course, that was the reason for their whole situation wasn’t it? When she’d received the summons from the coven, there had been some fear, some anxiety. But, for the most part, she’d resigned herself to her fate. Luce’s fingers brushed against the choker around her throat, covering her scar. It had served as a reminder of what she’d done. She cast dark magic, practiced necromancy, committed murder, slain another member of their coven. Even without the magic that seeped into the very walls of the council chambers, she would readily admit it to them. When Nell took a step towards the council, Luce’s eyes widened. What was she doing? Why was she doing that? Casting a glance over at Bea, Luce clenched her jaw before taking a step forward as well. “I plead guilty.”

There had been a part of Beatrice that had thought their mother might have tried harder to protect them from the Council’s wrath. She was disappointed to see that her mother only had loyalty to her daughters in small measures. She had worn an outfit her mother had once picked for her, crisp white lines of a suit that screamed look at me. Hiding her scar was the scarf Felix had gifted her. Anger simmered under her skin as she looked at each of the Council members. She stepped forward, pulling the scarf from her neck and linking hands with her sisters. “I plead guilty, but I feel no guilt for what I have done.” She pressed her lips, trying to force herself from snarling at the Council. “Were you told the whole story or just the parts that painted us badly?” She asked, rage making her voice even more ragged than what it usually was.

The scar on her daughters’ necks and arms were ugly, and not just for cosmetic reasons. Nisa’s lips tightened as the three of her daughters said the most disappointing words they’d said in their entire lives, but it was hard to weigh the council responsibilities on her shoulders against the heart of a mother, even one that was as demanding as herself. The scars were obvious marks of magic gone wrong to the trained eye, and this was magic that had gone very wrong. Her daughters could have died. One of them had died. And she’d been in Turkey. She wished she could have protected them from all this, but now it was too late. They’d made their choices, and now they’d have to deal with the consequences. She wasn’t Nisa Vural, mother of three in these moments. She was Councilwoman Nisa of the Witches of the Silver Flame. And exceptions couldn’t be made, especially for her family. “I’m sure we’ve yet to hear the whole story. We’re eager to hear the rest, and are waiting. As it stands, though— there are still crimes to be atoned for.

As Nisa began to talk, Bea’s eyes went to her mother’s. They were mirrors of each other. Bea was the spitting image of her mother and many had thought she would do great things just like the matriarch. She glared at the woman now, she didn’t want to be like her mother. Bea wouldn’t pick the coven over her family. “August paid a man to kill Nell. He was going to butcher her because of petty jealousy. Every single one of you knows how he felt about her.” Her lips pressed together as she took a moment to shove her emotions down,“I got between her and the Hunter that coward brought and I had my head cut off. I died because of the actions of August Thompson. So personally I don’t see it as murder, but rather retribution. Something we were owed.”

Rosemary flinched in her seat at Beatrice’s blunt explanation of what had occurred. Clementine had already told Nisa about what she’d overheard, but still. Little August Thompson had done such a thing? He had paid someone to take Penelope’s life? How could he have done that? She’d always known there had been friction between the two of them, but Rosemary had dismissed it as little more than the rivalry that came with youth. She looked over at Nisa, her heart breaking for the woman. Nisa was a member of the council and her daughters had flagrantly disregarded the rules and measures of the coven. They’d done unspeakable, dark magic. Shifting uncomfortably, the woman shook her head, “We are aware of the general circumstances that occured. The murder of August Thompson… that is not our primary concern.” She said, though the words hurt to say. A member of their coven, dead. Though, she supposed, there was no other way things could have gone. Beatrice, Penelope, or August, one of them would be dead regardless. “The matter of necromancy is what troubles me the most. You three know that necromancy is prohibited by the tenants of our coven and yet, you thought to exert power over forces beyond your control.” Her eyes flickered to Penelope’s arms and she swallowed, “Clearly, you are aware of the consequences of this. However, the blatant disregard for our sacred laws cannot go overlooked.”

Everything felt as if it were slipping away from Nell. The coven had always been a safe haven for her, a place to belong when the rest of the world shied or ran away from here. Part of her wanted to clutch it to her chest, and hold it tight, as if it were her last security blanket left in the world after everything had happened. But they were also wrong. Her mother’s detached words weren’t a surprise. Nisa had always been big on punishment, especially when it came to the coven and her youngest daughter. Now it seemed she was finally extending it to Luce and Bea as well. But would she have been harsher if it were just Nell on trial? It was something the young witch couldn’t help but wonder. “If we’re talking about blatant disregard for sacred laws, is it not the most sacred of laws that we look after one another, that we protect our sisters in both magic and blood? Bea was doing just that, and Luce and I did it for her in return by bringing her back from death. Are we really going to be punished for going to the ends of the Earth for another witch and our family? Weren’t you the ones who taught us to do that?”

Helena could laugh, they were making it easy for her to spin all of this. She tutted at Penelope,“You went behind the Coven’s back to perform magic that goes against the Coven’s rules. If you had come to us, perhaps this would be different.” She glanced over to Nisa with a faux pitying look,“After all your mother did to drag her family name from the dirt where her mother left it, you go and betray her and our trust. It seems like this type of behavior runs in the family.” Idly, she flipped a few pages in her notes. “Now, you say that August did this because of ‘petty jealousy’. However, we have multiple witnesses who claim to have seen August in pain at Beltane and Penelope and Lucinda Vural dragged him away from the scene. Doesn’t seem a little odd to anyone else?”

As both of her sisters argued against the council, Luce’s lips pressed together into a thin line. Rosemary had a point-- they’d gone against the laws of the coven and while she didn’t just want to lie down and just accept what was happening, there wasn’t any way to get around what they’d done. But, Helena’s words had her frowning, the words slipping from her mouth before she could stop herself. “‘If we’d come to you?’ You’re seriously trying to say that you would have just signed off on us bringing back Bea? We all know that’s a load of-- that’d never happen.” She caught herself as anger burned in the pit of her stomach. “Don’t you bring our grandmother into this. That has nothing to do with what’s being discussed here..” She glared at Helena. Bitch. She’d never liked Helena and even less so now. 

Nisa’s eyes flashed towards Helena, the witch having hit the sorest of spots when it came to her family and history. She was right. Nisa had worked hard to continue to build on the family legacy her mother had tried to tarnish by dabbling with demons. But she knew better than to think that Helena was bringing it up for any productive reasons. “Yes— well, I wouldn’t expect you to understand what it is to uphold and grow a family legacy, Helena.” The Matsdotter family was relatively young in comparison to the Vurals and some of the other witch families, yet to have a place on the coven council until Helena had come along. “Thankfully, Lucinda is correct in saying that the crimes of the past are, indeed, past.” But there was some truth in the other parts of Helena’s words. What had antagonised August? “There is still a piece of the puzzle missing, though. Why did August feel the need to hire a killer?” She looked each of her daughters’ directly in the eyes, showing no mercy when it came to needings answers. “As for what this council may or may not have done in the face of Beatrice’s death, we can’t possibly assume anything one way or the other. For we weren’t given the chance to pass judgement.”

An amused smirk grew on Bea’s lips as Helena spoke to their mother, though she quickly schooled her face. She had expected the Council to act like adults and yet here they were, digging into past issues. “Because he was a cowardly man who realized he would have no chance against Nell? He was a mediocre spellcaster at best and Nell is one of the better in the Coven.” She couldn’t help the snort that came out then, “We all know what would have been done. I would be condemned to rotting in the ground because you all would have never allowed for them to learn my craft.” She had pulled away from the coven for many reasons, but this right here was one them. She never wanted to face people who refused to learn that there was beauty in necromancy. “No one trusts this Coven to do what’s right when it comes to things of this nature. So we have to do them behind your back. You all would rather stay in the past than to see why what we did was good and just.”

Though Rosemary hardly liked drudging up the unpleasantries of the past, Helena brought up a fair point-- this behavior, going against the ways of the coven, taking matters into their own hands, practicing dangerous magic were all hallmark traits of Nisa’s mother. And these girls seemed to have inherited that desire to test the limits of what could be done. Or rather, what should be done. At this point, what alarmed her was how blatant they had been with their practices. It seemed as though the girls hadn’t even attempted to hide what they’d done. That sort of thing was sure to attract attention, from the wrong kinds of people. People who would seek to harm the coven. “Penelope, do not cite the ties of family to me-- this coven is my family. And the laws exist for that precise reason, to protect us all from harm. What you did, it could attract unwanted attention. By practicing this magic, you endanger not only yourselves, but the rest of the coven.” She said, her voice trembling with worry. “How dare you insult this coven, Beatrice. Nature has laws, magic has laws that must be abided by. Your very presence is... “ She swallowed, “Unnatural.”

“Well you’re not acting as if it’s your family,” Nell retorted hotly before listening to the rest of Rosemary’s words. Not even her mother was acting like family in these moments. Family would fight for one another, just as Bea and Luce and Nell had fought for each other. It shouldn't hurt. Not after all these years of similar treatment. Nell had expected as much, but foresight couldn’t help her when it came to saving her from the twist of Nisa’s distanced knife. As the council member carried on, she wondered if there was perhaps the smallest grain of truth in the older woman’s words. Would outside forces try and bring harm to the coven for what the girls had done? But no. Certainly there were other ways. “There wouldn’t even be any unwanted attention if it wasn’t brought to light! Who’s going to tell people? I sure won’t. The only reason there’d be any danger would be from the council telling people about it.” Still, what if people did come after her sisters? If they somehow stayed in the coven, would that make the two of them safer? She had one more card to play— didn’t she? Something that could hopefully distract from what Luce and Bea had done. “August wanted to kill me because I stole his memories. Took them after he caught me summoning a demon. He was going to out me to the council, but I stopped him. I guess I take after my grandmother Suna more than we thought. So really, this was all my fault.” Let the blame fall to her.

Being scolded wasn’t unexpected and Helena could deal with the ire of Nisa. All she wanted to do was remind those on the council that Nisa’s blood sang with issues. With this blow to her reputation, perhaps it would be easier to start sowing distrust in the other council members. “You three have brought unnecessary danger to our coven. You were selfish and went against everything we have taught you. You children turned your backs on the people who raised you.” Helena regarded Nell with a cold look,“You admit to more crimes then? I suppose we should discuss punishment.” Helena turned to look at her fellow council members, before looking forward to the guilty. “You have admitted to murder and breaking our most sacred rules. You have become things unnatural and have hurt the cycle of the universe by doing so. Some of the council members would not be opposed to sacrificing your lives to bring order again. Others wish to be lenient and simply excommunicate you from the coven.”

Luce resisted the urge to groan when Nell stepped forward, telling them about the demon summoning, the circumstances surrounding why they’d been involved with August in the first place. They weren’t on trial for any of that, they weren’t being asked about it. Why the fuck had she brought it up? Before Luce could intervene, Helena spoke of… sacrificing their lives? Her eyes widened and she stared, first at Helena, then to their mother. She knew that the coven would deliver punishment for what they’d done, but-- death? That was what was on the table here? How could the council even consider that. “Who on the council wants to sacrifice our lives to the great order of things, Helena?” Luce snapped, leveling the woman with a searing glare. “A life for a life, equivalent exchange-- yes. We sacrificed August, but it never would have happened if he hadn’t attempted to-- no, if he hadn’t killed Bea. She’s only here because we intervened. Because the council would have never helped us and would have never punished him for what he’d done.” Her hands shook with anger at her sides, but she held herself tall, proud. The coven… they couldn’t kill them. They couldn’t. 

For a small moment, utter shock had paralyzed Nisa. Demons as well? Had she failed her daughters so miserably that they were repeating the sins of her mother and more? Where had she gone so miserably wrong that all three of her children had even brushed against the illegal practices of the coven? Had she not hammered into each and every one of their heads how important family was? How they needed to protect one another and hold the family name in high esteem? Perhaps she’d taught them a little too well— to the point where they were willing to save their sister’s life over all else. And if she’d been given the chance to save her brother, killed by that Miriam bitch all those years ago...would she have done it if it meant throwing away everything she’d worked to build back after the shaming and excommunication of her own mother? But breaking through the anger and shame of these thoughts was the mention of death. To kill her three daughters? The little girls she’d raised from diapers, and cleaned the scrapes of? To watch them fall? It was unthinkable. She’d spent her entire life trying to steer them right, cornering them into protective and approved spaces where they wouldn’t be hurt. “We’ve never made ourselves a coven that doles out death, and I don’t anticipate we’ll start now,” her tone was steely and cold, the protectiveness of a mother finally peeking through. “Playing with death is one of the very reasons necromancy is banned, and why these three women are on trial now. To dabble in it would make us hypocrites.”

Bea’s shoulders grew tense as she heard the words sacrifice and without even meaning, she looked toward her mother. Nisa wouldn’t allow that. She wouldn’t make her die twice. Bea’s jaw clenched, she refused to cry at the prospect of death, not in front of these people. They would take that as a sign weakness and Bea couldn’t afford to be weak here. Her shoulders sagged ever so slightly as her mother spoke against the penalty of death. Her mouth was dry, but she spoke anyway. “I take then we’re excommunicated and not allowed to contact those in the Coven? Or use your resources?” Bea might have distanced herself but she still had friends there. Her grandmother was still there and Bea loved her grandmother. Her parents were there and even though she was angry and disappointed in them, the isolation this punishment would give her made her throat tight. They would miss out on so many moments in her life and her sisters’ lives. Guilt pooled in her stomach. Bringing her back now meant the loss of their family. She straightened her back. They were deciding this. It wasn’t as though she had chosen to die. Their parents were deciding to leave them behind, she could live with their decision, even if it stung as badly as the blade that had taken her life. 

Rosemary’s breath caught in the back of her throat when Helena said those words-- there had been murmurs of bringing the girls to justice, of meting out punishment in order to demonstrate what became of those who attempted to fight against the natural order of things. And, their crimes, their crimes. Demon summoning, necromancy, murder, violence within the coven? Such things would attract so much attention to the coven. People would notice, people were bound to talk. And what then? What fate would befall them all? Helena’s methods were brutal, but punishment… it needed to be delivered. And the girls, though she loved them dearly, were far too dangerous to be affiliated with the coven of the Silver Flame. At Bea’s words, her lips pressed together in a thin line. “I hope you all understand that I take no joy in this. But, yes. It is far too dangerous, for all of us, for you to remain within our coven. We cannot extend our protection to those who would bring harm to the very community they are a part of.” Looking around at the other members, she spoke in a clear voice, “I vote for excommunication. Council?”

In the span of a short moment, death as a sentence had come and gone. If she’d blinked, Nell might have missed the entire interaction. Still, she had felt her magic pool in her gut. If the council had been set on killing her and her sisters, she would have been ready to fight, to tear their way out of here and never look back, or at least try not to. Things of the past often had a way of making themselves unforgettable. As it stood, the council had begun to vote, and that familiar sense of powerlessness began to creep along Nell’s neck. They wouldn’t take the coven away from her. They couldn’t. Even if it was full of rules she broke, and council members of hypocrites, that wasn’t all this place was. The coven was her home, her literal family with the Vurals making up a good chunk of it, a place she’d always been able to be herself when there was nowhere else in the world she’d been able to do that. And now it was going to be ripped away? Just like that? It’d be taken from her sisters, too. Control was slipping out of their grasps along with the coven, and Nell tried vainly to grab the fraying ends of it, to tie a knot on the last of the rope. She turned to face her mother. “Do something! Can’t you just do something for once? Be on our side for two fucking seconds?!”

Nisa’s youngest daughter’s pleading voice fell on hard ears, though they weren’t entirely deaf. “I did so something, Penelope. I told you time and time again what would happen if you continued down this path, and now your sisters are on it as well.” There was only one way for them to learn, wasn’t there? They wouldn’t realize the error of their ways until they hit rock bottom. So if it was tough love they needed as a teacher, it was what they would get. Taking the time to make eye contact with each of her children, she simply said, “Let this be a lesson.” It would be as hard for her as it was for them. Then she turned to the council, her shoulders having never moved from their steeled position. “I cast my vote for excommunication.”

Bea stepped forward, grabbing Nell’s hand, trying to tug her back. She turned to glare at Nisa, rage rolling off of her as she stared her mother down. “This path was my own and I took them down it. I taught them necromancy. This isn’t Nell’s fault.” Stepping forward, Bea pointed at Nisa, hand shaking with anger as her voice raised. “This is your fault. You have blamed Nell since she was a child. You ignored Luce. You were a bad mother! You were fucking blind to what any of us needed unless it fit what you wanted! That’s what put us on this path.” She lowered her hand, head shaking,“I wanted to be you, Nisa,” She pronounced her mother’s name sharply. She would never call that woman Mama again. “I’m disappointed that you’ve picked a coven over your children. I hope they’re as loyal to you as you are to them.”

Death seemed almost preferable to excommunication as Luce heard her mother cast her vote against them. They were being thrown out, tossed aside, abandoned by the only people who could ever understand their struggles. Had she done terrible things? Yes. There was no denying that. And she had known there would be a price to pay. But she had tricked herself into believing that their mother would never turn her back on them, would never choose the coven over them. And now, reality was staring her hard in the face. "We are exactly the women you raised, Mother. Nothing more and nothing less than that! We did what we knew was right, what you taught us was right!" Luce yelled before shaking her head. But, she knew their fates were sealed.

Nell was crumbling in a way only her mother could cause, the rockfall known as Nisa Vural taking no prisoners as she barreled through the three of them. She recognized Bea and Luce’s anger, had experienced it herself for years growing up when faced with the injustices of their mother. She still felt it even now, boiling down beneath her broken heart as their mother laid down her verdict. It’d taken her far too long to learn that chasing after her mother’s approval was a fool’s game, and now her sisters would have to realize it for themselves. “She’s not worth it,” she said in a trembling voice, linking hands with her sisters to pull them towards the doors of the chambers. It was time to go. “She’s not fucking worth us. We’re better off without her.” Maybe if she said it aloud to her sisters, she’d believe it was true. Nell had told herself long ago that she wouldn’t let her mother break her heart anymore, that she wouldn’t let Nisa Vural have any power over her and the way she felt. But no matter how many times she’d whispered the words to herself, a part of her still struggled to make them true. “We don’t need them. We don’t. We’ve got what we need right here,” she said with a squeeze against her sisters’ hands. But it was hard to believe what she was saying when an errant tear was sneaking down her cheek. “We’ll show them,” she finished hotly, refusing to address the way her chest felt like it’d been cleaved in two. Replace it with anger and empty spaces and move on.

The only phrase that could describe Helena in this moment was ‘cat got the cream’. Watching the almighty Vural family crumble in front of her was absolutely amazing. How amusing to see them go after each other over and over again. “I cast my vote for excommunication.” The other two members echoed her cast and she looked towards the former Coven members. “You have been officially excommunicated for the crimes you committed against the Witches of the Silver Flame. You can not seek protection from our coven, you can not use our resources, and you can not reach out for assistance. Current members of the coven will not speak to you or risk receiving punishment themselves. You have made your bed, now you must lie in it. Good luck without us, darlings.”

[qionow]

Status Quo

They had one rule: don’t offend anyone. 

Political get-togethers could easily ruin a nation’s reputation if they expressed an opinion too controversial in the eyes of those attending. Especially if said eyes held a more conservative view of the world. 

So naturally, Italy and Romana decide to bring their girlfriends along with them. 

(also happy pride y’all, enjoy some wlw content in the form of “don’t talk to me or my bottom ever again”: the fic)

There were certainly worse ways to spend a Friday night, but being forced to attend a formal party filled with old politicians and exhausted diplomats wasn’t exactly the best thing in the world for Italy either. 

If it were up to her, then she would have slept right through the evening and let the political disaster that started at seven play out on its own without her. But unfortunately, this was something she didn’t have a choice in, so Italy relegated herself to looking around for any signs of free food and smiling at whoever’s eye she happened to catch as she made her way through the crowd.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” 

Italy paused when she caught Germany’s muttered question, glancing up to see a pair of pale blue eyes scanning the room with no hidden amount of apprehension. 

“Mhm!” Italy replied breezily, squeezing their interlocked hands lightly. “Don’t worry about it!” 

However, Germany did have a fair reason to look so concerned. 

Italy really didn’t draw much attention to herself compared to the rest of the people at the party. Someone like her bouncing around in a dress and heels wasn’t exactly the most threatening thing in the world, after all. 

But a tall German woman in a full suit was about as far on the opposite side of the spectrum you could get from that image. 

“I thought your boss specifically said to be more conservative this time around,” Germany muttered, briefly ducking her head when they passed a small group whose conversation notably silenced as soon as she was within hearing distance.

Still, Italy waved her off with her free hand for that, her relentlessly sunny attitude in full swing. “That’s what he told me to do! You can do whatever you want!” 

She made to start her brisk pace again, but her smile slowly dropped when she caught the persistent hesitation on Germany’s face. Easing Germany’s anxiety was a much more strenuous task compared to tackling her own worries, but there was no way Italy was going to let this loom over her lover’s shoulders for the rest of the night.

That thought was all she needed to change their course in order to usher them both into one of the less populated corners of the room, pulling Germany along with her until they were tucked away from the bulk of the crowd. 

“What’s wrong, cara?” 

Even when Italy tried to catch her gaze, Germany’s eyes still wandered over to the rest of the room every so often with clear caution.

“I’m just worried about you,” she finally answered, voice hushed and nearly drowned out in the chatter of the room.

Italy paused. 

That wasn’t what she had thought would be the problem.

“Me?” She pointed back to herself and received a small nod in confirmation, which did absolutely nothing to explain the situation to her. “Germany, why on earth would you be worried about me?” 

She could tell it was getting harder for Germany to fully verbalize her thoughts as she pursed her lips, visibly tensing up the longer the silence dragged on.

“Well,” she started slowly, pressing her lips together once before she managed to continue. “You’re here with me. And this isn’t a very welcoming crowd.” 

When Italy only stared back at her though, Germany let out a frustrated sigh and crossed her arms. 

“I don’t want someone to try and go after you because of me.” 

The exasperation in her voice was evident, but Italy still caught the undertone of worry that laced that simple sentence together. 

“Monika.” Italy reached out to pull at Germany’s arm, forcing them to uncross enough for her to take her hand and intertwine their fingers together. “That’s not going to happen.” 

“But-” 

“I mean it.” 

Italy made sure to cut off that train of thought as soon as Germany opened her mouth, squeezing her hand in a silent request to let her continue.

“You’re scary enough already. Nobody’s going to bother you or me,” she went on. “And if they do, then you can just beat them up!” 

Germany sighed, but Italy could have sworn she saw a flicker of amusement in her eyes and she knew she was going in the right direction as soon as she did.

“Marzia, I can’t do that here.” 

“That’s ok!” Italy channeled all of the enthusiastic determination she was known for so she could beam up at Germany with the confidence she hoped to instill in her. “I’ll just beat them up for you!” 

Germany only stared at her at first, total shock written all over her face before she dropped her head. It was hard to pick up, but Italy still managed to catch the faint chuckle she let out.

When Germany finally looked up at her, a small smile tugged the corner of her lips up and that sight alone was enough to make Italy melt on the spot. 

“That’s what you’re going to do?” she mused, a teasing curl to her words that Italy rarely heard from her. 

Italy’s cheeks hurt with the force of her grin as she nodded her head fast enough to nearly whip herself in the face with her ponytail.

“Yup! That’s why you don’t have to worry about what you’re wearing!” Italy was sure that her relief was clear as day, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to care at the moment. “Besides, you look good!”

She took a moment to eye the way the sharp lines of Germany’s dark black suit jacket framed her broad shoulders ever so nicely, tight sleeves clinging to a set of very strong arms.

“Really good.” 

Germany shook her head, but she was still much more relaxed than when the night first started and Italy was nothing short of thrilled for that accomplishment.

“Oh, it’s a pleasure to see you two here!” 

And that relaxed state was gone in a flash as a man Italy had never seen before clapped a hand on both of their shoulders. “I’m sure it was hard to make it, with all your work nowadays!” 

Italy was quick to smile back in an attempt to draw his attention to her when Germany visibly tensed up under his grip. It would be safe to assume that he was some politician looking to widen his social network and Germany’s less-than-warm response would undoubtedly send the wrong message if that was the case. 

“It’s no problem!” she replied cheerfully. “We’re just glad we get to come!” 

That was certainly the right move when the man let out a loud laugh, briefly shaking them both before he finally let go. “That’s what I like to hear!” 

He reached over to nudge Germany, a friendly curve to his grin as he beamed her with obvious delight despite her stiff posture.

“It’s good to see you out and about too, Ludwig! I’m sure our little Italy here had a hand in that though!” 

Italy's smile dropped. 

When she looked over to Germany, she caught the silent question she was asking her when her eyes flickered over to the politician before they met hers again. Italy didn’t even have to think before she gave her a nod in return.

She had never been so happy to let Germany take the lead before when she saw the way Germany drew herself back into a familiar stoic expression that was much more composed and much more intimidating. 

“My name is Monika.” 

Italy vaguely registered the fact that the man’s smile dropped in record time, especially when there were more pressing issues to concern herself with.

Germany on her own already had a commanding enough presence with her sharp blue eyes and broad stature, about as close to the embodiment of military power that one could get in a person. But now, that power was on full display as she clasped her hands behind her back and glared down at the man in front of her, practically radiating strength from every inch of her body. 

And Italy was absolutely smitten with her. 

The politician who was currently facing Germany’s silent wrath didn’t seem to share the same opinion though. 

“Ah, of course.” He cleared his throat, glancing off to the side when Germany had yet to break eye contact with him. “Right. I mean-I heard that you would be coming, but I thought you would just look a little more, you know-” 

He waved a hand towards Germany, although that hand quickly retracted itself when Germany’s expression didn’t change.

“I don’t.” Germany said slowly, voice lowering dangerously into a tone that was more suitable for addressing a soldier than a guest at a party. “Would you like to elaborate?” 

That was as clear of a challenge as Italy had ever heard from her, which the politician certainly caught onto as well if the way his face paled had anything to say about it.

“Oh no, no, I’ve taken up enough of your time already,” he fumbled out, shaking his head with a faltering attempt at a polite smile. “I’ll just, um, be on my way.” 

He was quick to excuse himself with an awkward attempt at a wave before he retreated back into the safety of the crowd, vanishing from sight in an impressively short amount of time. 

But even after he left, it took a while for the cold look on Germany’s face to completely melt away as she let out a tense sigh, closing her eyes in order to bring a hand up to her temples.

“Do I really look like Ludwig?”  

Italy couldn’t stop the bubbling laughter from escaping her chest at that point, clutching onto Germany’s arm for dear life so she could keep herself steady. 

“What?” 

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing!” 

Germany raised an eyebrow at her giggling fit, which only served to send Italy right back into a barely comprehensible mess.

“Italy.”

“I’m sorry!” Italy wheezed out. “It’s just-you were so worried about us getting hurt! Us!” 

Germany let out a quiet exhale as Italy slowly managed to pull herself back together, the last of her hiccuping laughter forced away to leave behind a broad grin. “I suppose you were right then.” 

“See?” The smile on Italy’s face was probably the most genuine one she had done all night. “There’s nothing to worry about!”

Germany let out a hum, although it wasn’t quite in full agreement. 

Luckily for her, Italy knew exactly how to change that. 

“Hey.” 

Once she had Germany’s attention, Italy pushed herself up onto the balls of her feet in order to press a kiss to her cheek, rocking back down with the hope that all of the fondness in her chest was properly translated. “You’re still my Monika, ok?” 

And oh, she knew that message was sent loud and clear when Germany’s face burst into a fiery red, quickly ducking her head in a hopeless attempt to hide her blush. 

Italy’s smile widened as she reached down to interlace their hands together once more, tugging Germany back through the crowd with pure delight.

After all, the night would only last so long and she still had a very lovely German sweetheart to show off to the rest of the guests. 

~~

Romana didn’t even know why she was here. 

Italy was more than capable of handling social events on her own, so the reason why her boss decided to loop her into this was a complete mystery to her. 

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she had cursed him out in his own office a few days ago. Maybe it didn’t. 

Like she said, a complete mystery.

“I think that’s another one for ‘close friends.’”

Romana promptly found herself snapped out of her thoughts, glancing over at Spain, who was currently typing away at her phone. “Why the hell are you keeping track?” 

“I just thought it would be funny!” Spain replied easily, shooting a broad grin down at Romana. “Do you want to see what we got so far?” 

“No.” 

Spain’s smile never faltered despite Romana’s curt answer, leaning down to hold her phone out. “Are you sure?” 

Romana's gaze flickered down once, then twice before she snatched Spain’s phone out of her hands with a few muttered insults. She chose to ignore Spain’s light laughter in favor of studying the messy notes on the screen in front of her instead. 

According to the data, three people had mistaken them for waitresses, four people had asked where their husbands were, one poor bastard thought they were sisters, and a whole twelve guests had somehow gotten the impression that they were “close friends.” 

Although, given the fact that Spain was currently decked in a dark crimson dress and a full face of makeup compared to the walking manifestation of butch fashion that was Germany, Romana really couldn’t blame them. 

That didn’t mean that Spain was completely modest with her choice of fashion though. 

“Excuse me, but would you two happen to be Spain and Romana, by any chance?” 

Romana glanced up from Spain’s phone to meet the service-ready smile of some woman in front of them, likely an underpaid and overworked secretary if she had to place her bets. 

“That’s us!” Spain chirped back, plucking her phone from Romana in one fluid motion. “Is there something you needed?”

“Oh no, I just wanted to drop by and say hi.” The woman’s smile softened into something more genuine. “You two look wonderful tonight.” 

Spain’s bubbly enthusiasm riled itself back up in full force at that.

“Thank you!” she replied easily. “You look great too! I love your dress!”

When the secretary looked over to her, Romana jerked her head in a quick nod of agreement, which thankfully seemed to be enough to avoid coming off as a complete brat. 

“It’s not anything special, just something I picked up a while ago,” the woman laughed, waving her off with polite modesty. However, once her eyes trailed down to Spain’s right hand, her smile quickly morphed into a concerned frown. “Oh! Um, I think you broke your nails there.” 

“Hmm?” Spain peered down at her hand with faux curiosity and Romana had to physically resist the urge to groan when she held her fingers up. “Do you mean these?” 

Romana didn’t know when Spain had gotten her nails done or who had even agreed to do them for her with the stunt she pulled off because really, having your index and middle fingers painted and clipped strikingly short compared to the length of the rest of your nails was a bold move for a formal party.

It was stupid and it was embarassing and it was exactly the kind of thing that Spain would try to get away with.

“Don’t worry, these were on purpose! They do come in pretty handy after all!” 

The woman tilted her head to the side with obvious confusion and Romana was tempted to beg for her to leave before the full force of Spain’s dramatics could be unveiled. 

“On purpose?” she repeated, the connection obviously miles away from being formed in her head at that point. “What would you need them that short for?” 

Spain only flipped her hand over so her palm was to the ceiling, curling her index and middle fingers towards her in a come hither motion with a completely innocent and wildly inappropriate smile. 

Romana had seen a wide variety of reactions that night ranging from complete obliviousness to awkward discomfort and some kind of emotion within that range was what she was expecting, especially with how nice the secretary had been thus far.

But seeing her face twist with pure disgust was the one reaction that Romana had yet to see and that was where she was going to draw the line.

“You got a fucking problem with that?” Romana snapped, crossing her arms with a scowl. 

“Do I-” The woman quickly met Romana’s glare with a disapproving frown that made Romana’s blood boil. “Of course not! There’s just no reason for you two to be putting this in everyone’s face is all.”

Romana would swear to this day that her temper had never jumped up so quickly before in her life.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“I mean that this is a formal event and there are certain rules to abide by,” she replied firmly, passive hostility dripping from every word that came out of her mouth. “I assumed you would have a little more modesty. It does bring up questions about your integrity as a nation.”

The secretary’s critical gaze drifted down to where the hem of Romana’s dress rested against her thighs.

“And as a woman.”

Oh, did Romana have some thoughts about that little comment.

“You fucking-”

The only thing that stopped Romana from reaching over and strangling the woman herself was the fact that Spain had shot her arm out to stop her from stepping forward, the friendly look on her face looking decidedly more strained than before.

“Roma, why don’t you go look around for a minute?” Spain’s tone seemed to offer less of an offer and more of a command at that point. “I’ll come find you later.” 

She really just wanted to argue and have at the secretary herself, but her mouth snapped itself shut once she caught the hard glint in Spain’s eyes. 

“Fine,” she spat out, glaring at the woman who seemed to be under the impression that she had somehow won here.

Romana didn’t say a word to correct her as she marched right back off into the crowd, glancing back just in time to see Spain’s smile drop into a cold glare. 

Sure, she wanted to chew that excuse of a guest out herself, but she knew that Spain would have that handled without her and that was enough of a victory in her opinion.

~~

Romana turned when she heard the faint clicking of heels against the floor, looking up just in time to see Spain heading right towards her with a bright smile. 

“I’m back!” Spain called out cheerfully, leaning down to press a messy kiss to the top of her head. “Sorry that took a while!” 

“Whatever.” Romana rolled her eyes when Spain wrapped an arm around her waist. “I can handle that shit on my own, you know.”

“I know, I know,” Spain cooed back. “I just got a little carried away. She shouldn’t have said that about you.”

“Right.” Romana’s attention was already fixed on the hand that was currently pressing her body right next to Spain’s. “Are you going to do this for the rest of the night?” 

“Yup!” 

Romana glanced up, ready to find the familiar sight of a teasing grin on Spain’s face only to find complete determination. 

She let out a groan, slapping her hands up to cover her face. Of course, she had forgotten exactly how hard it was to shake Spain’s protective mood off once she really got into it. “No.” 

Spain frowned, mouth already open to protest. “But-” 

“No.” 

“How about ten minutes?” she finally bartered, already quirking her lip out in a rather impressive attempt at looking like a kicked puppy. “Please?” 

Romana’s first instinct was to give her a hard no, but now that she thought about it, it really wasn’t so bad, being this close to Spain. With her mood, she would definitely be more than safe from anyone else who decided to make a scene. And while she would never admit it out loud, it did feel nice to have Spain dote on her so much. 

But Spain didn’t need to know that.

“Fine.” 

The speed with which Spain brightened up as soon as Romana muttered that word was honestly astonishing to see in person. 

“Yes! Thank you!” Spain chirped, leaning down again to press a messy kiss to her cheek, even if she was grinning too widely in order to do it properly. 

Despite the less than ideal attempt, Romana still didn’t move to push Spain’s head away. “Shut up.”

But now that the hectic moment had died down, Romana found that she still had a question that had remained unanswered.

“What the hell did you even say?”

Spain paused, glancing at Romana quizzically. “To her?” 

When Romana nodded, Spain laughed, but she still caught a glimpse of that lingering irritation behind her smile as her grip tightened ever so slightly.

“You don’t need to worry about that, Roma.” 

[my-healing-journey]

So. I have sole custody of our 2 kids, which means that I’m responsible for making all of the big decisions (medical, educational, religious, etc.) and I do not need to have Jake’s approval before making said decisions. Jake has visitation with our kids twice per month on weekends, plus spring break, half of winter break, and two consecutive weeks in the summer (twice over).

He had the kids for spring break. I needed a break from the kids - I wanted to get my house sparkling clean, declutter, reorganize, etc. - but I couldn’t stop feeling anxious. The kids didn’t want to see Jake. They begged and pleaded with me to not see their dad. They wanted to stay home with me. They were angry with me for taking them to see their dad.

Here’s the thing, though - if I don’t take them to see their dad, he can sue me in court and then the kids can possibly be taken away from me. I have to deliver them to him for short visits every so often, otherwise I risk having to deliver them into his hands permanently, and that eats me up inside. They’re children. They shouldn’t have to be delivered to him at all.

Spring break came and went. I was a workaholic all week. I missed my kids fiercely. Tried to clean the house, wasn’t successful, and wound up hiring someone to come in and do the bulk of it for me. I worked 13+ hour days, binged The Last Kids on Earth (since my kids like the show), cried a bit, continued to miss them, got a massage, and tried to make my executively dysfunctioning brain do things. I felt anxious all week. Jake only let the kids call me on Wednesday (yes it goes against the parenting plan for him to limit their communication with me, but still).

It was around 6pm or so when the kids called me that Wednesday. I was still in the office, trying to wrap up some paperwork. My oldest went off into some room of the apartment where his dad was not present, as is typical for him, and then told me that he was angry at me because Dad had promised to take them bowling, but now didn’t have the money to do so because he ran out since he has to pay me every month. My head spun. WTAF? Before I could think of what to say, my child then said something along the lines of, “Dad said that if you saved all of your money, you’d have $6,000 per month and $70,000 in a year, but he only gets $1,800 per month, and he pays you $600 of that.” I asked my child, “Do you know why Dad pays me?” Child said no. I replied with, “That’s how he helps take care of you and your brother. That’s what good dads should do, right? Help take care of their kids?” His attitude turned around as he said “Hmm. Yeah.”

Then he told me that his dad disagrees with my oldest’s ADHD diagnosis and has convinced my kid that the medicine he’s been taking for ADHD is messing with his brain and he should stop. Child then passed the phone to Dad, who told me that he was concerned because my oldest child is forgetful.

Me: He’s always been forgetful.

Jake: But it seems really dramatic.

Me: He doesn’t live with you all the time; you usually just see him on weekends. His forgetfulness has been pretty bad. The medication he’s been taking has really helped him a lot. He’s gone from struggling with simple math concepts, with tears and frustration and tantrums, to being able to complete his homework on his own within 10 minutes. It’s a night and day difference.

Jake: Forgetfulness isn’t a symptom of ADHD, though. I know, I work with kids who—

Me: Forgetfulness is a classic symptom of ADHD, Jake. Along with voice volume control issues, stimming, and angry outbursts. Ryan has all of those symptoms, and he’s been diagnosed by two separate doctors as having ADHD.

Jake: I’m just saying, he didn’t use to be this forgetful.

Me: And I’m telling you that he’s always been forgetful, ever since he was a toddler, and the medication makes him less so. We have an appointment with his psychiatrist next Thursday; I’ll bring up your concerns with her then.

Jake then handed the phone to my youngest, who ran into a different room and just burst into tears and said he wanted to come home. I asked him if something had happened, and he said he didn’t want to talk about it. Y’all. My heart aches just thinking about it.

The kids came back home on Sunday at the end of spring break, and they were both in an agitated state of mind. My oldest proceeded to yell at me in the car on the way home. My youngest was quiet and withdrawn. My oldest told me that Dad put him on a diet, and ate cookies in front of him with his brother. He explained that Dad is pitting one child against the other, and my poor truth-telling oldest child bears the brunt of Dad’s annoyance and anger. Dad called him names and made fun of his clothes. Among a litany of other things.

My oldest is nine years old. 9. NINE.

I’m still so angry about all of this that I just. I want to scream and punch things.

Who puts a nine-year-old on a diet?! And who pits one kid vs the other and encourages antagonistic behavior?! Where does he get off thinking that it’s appropriate to tell my child to stop taking his medication, and blaming all of his financial problems on me?! Since when is it appropriate for him to talk about things like child support with THAT MUCH specificity and a negative light?! Since when is it okay for him to call my children names and put them down?!

...right. He’s a narcissist, Aerin. This is what he does. This is his whole fucking thing. To stir up drama and bad emotions, and then lord over all those in his life for having negative emotions.

I want him to go away and leave us alone. Forever. Just. Disappear and leave us be. The anxiety and the tension has been running at ridiculously high levels in our home for the past couple of months. He’d seemed to be doing pretty okay, and then all of a sudden he’s just. Decided he was bored with behaving politely, apparently.

My kids’ therapist has reported him to CPS 3x just this year thus far, and it’s only April.

Another incident happened during his last visit with my kids, a more physical one which I don’t want to write about right now because the emotions are still very raw and there’s so much anger and hurt. Suffice it to say, that resulted in yet another CPS report, a consultation with my attorney, multiple discussions with my children’s therapist, and I may very well be authorizing my attorney to file an emergency motion with the court in order to try and slap an immediate injunction onto Jake’s parenting time, pending a full psych evaluation.

This has got to stop. It has to stop.

I just want him to go away forever and leave us alone.

I feel like I’ve moved 1,000 steps forward, only to suddenly be pulled 600 steps backward. All that healing I thought I’d done feels like it’s gone again. Maybe not all of it. I no longer mourn my failed relationship. I feel quite indifferent toward Jake and whatever personal life he may have going on now. But the trauma has come back. Anxiety sits in my chest and in my throat, it’s been there for the past several weeks, and I’m just. I’m constantly near tears. I can’t sleep. I’m so frustrated that this is happening. Frustrated with Jake, frustrated that he just won’t change his ways, frustrated at the hurt he is purposely inflicting upon our children, and frustrated at myself for spiraling again. WTH. I thought I was past what he’d done to me. I thought I had healed. I was dating other men, I felt like my head was on straight again, and now I’m back to feeling unprepared for another relationship (something that I want so so badly), I feel like a giant mess of scattered puzzle pieces which had been mostly put together and then upended by a spiteful toddler. How am I supposed to move forward? Is this just going to keep happening over and over and over again? Will it never get better?

Go away, Jake. Do us all a favor and leave us alone. Ghost us. Never come for us again. Please. Do just one single good thing in your life and leave us alone.

Let us move on.

[milomeepit]

Diamond In The Rough: Chapter Ten

Roman has always wanted better. Has always believed that there’s a better life, a better world, just out of reach. Just beyond the veil of shitty teachers who don’t care, angry classmates that scream insults and slurs at each other all day, and drug-hazed parents who are more concerned with their next hit than looking after their ten year old son.

When he runs away after a particularly bad night at home and finds a quiet little cafe/bookstore tucked away in a back alley of the city, the sweet couple who run the joint (an odd pair; a quiet, gloomy man with a wry sense of humour and a cynical gleam in his eye, and a bouncy man who smiles like sunshine and laughs like a storybook king) help show him that maybe- just maybe- he really can have the life he always dreamed of.

Masterpost (to be added soon!)

Word Count: 1338

Chapter Warnings: food, stranger danger v2, daydreaming, anxiety, foster care mention, parent abuse mention, yelling (mostly from Roman), crying (also mostly from Roman)

Roman drummed his fingers on the tabletop of his usual table near the counter as he watched Virgil flit around the room, offering refills and recommending books to customers as they wandered around the cafe. He sipped his own drink, a tall glass filled to the brim with a frothy, sweet hot chocolate, and grinned. Virgil deftly stepped over a spilled drink, snatched the mop from the corner and wiped the floor clean on his next pass without ever missing a beat. Roman still wondered sometimes if Virgil really was a fae of some sort. He was so... graceful.

The front door slammed shut, and a tall man appeared at the top of the stairs. Roman had seen him around the cafe quite a few times, he seemed to be a regular. Patton and Virgil would usually sit with him and chat for a few minutes, and then return to their usual flow of running the cafe. Roman tried to remember his name. Liam? Landon?

"Heya, Logan!" Patton greeted him cheerfully from behind the counter.

Ah. So close, and yet so far, Roman mused as he took another bite of his sandwich.

"Hello, Patton. Would I be able to speak with you and Virgil? Privately?" Logan asked quietly. "It's quite important."

"Well, of course! V, hon, can you come here for a minute?" Patton called, making the taller man pause in his rhythmic pattern and look towards them.

"Yeah, coming," Virgil responded. He ruffled Roman's hair affectionately as he passed.

Roman noticed Logan watching the brief interaction closely, and felt a shiver run through him at the stony expression on his face. Something felt wrong, but he was sure Virgil and Patton would sort it out. They seemed like they could solve any problem the world threw their way.

He sighed dreamily as they disappeared into the kitchen, his mind already wandering to a pleasant daydream. His parents had always waved him away if he asked for help with homework, but he was sure that Virgil and Patton would be able to help if he ever had difficult homework.

Patton was really quite clever when it came to history, Roman had learned. He enjoyed watching programs where people dug up pots and bones and old houses, often talking to Virgil about the significance of the items discovered, and Roman listened intently. Virgil, meanwhile, was incredibly quick at math, rattling off customer's totals without batting an eyelid, or helping Patton figure out how much of this or that he needed to make bulk batches of food.

This, of course, only further fueled Roman's theory that the two of them had stepped off the pages of a fairy tale. Any issue thrown their way would be quickly conquered by their combined might! He giggled quietly to himself as he imagined Virgil fighting a dragon, big and bristling as it swiped at him. It would be no match for him, naturally, and he would quickly fell the foul beast, rescuing the kidnapped victim- Roman- and sweeping him into a tight hug.

He was distracted from his wandering thoughts by the chair across from him being pulled out. “Hi, Vir-” He froze as he looked up, seeing the brown eyes and angular face of the dragon Logan staring back at him. “... Oh. It’s you.”

“Hello, there, Roman,” Logan greeted him pleasantly. “How are you going today?” He clasped his hands together on the table and smiled.

Roman looked around for Patton or Virgil, but neither of them were visible. They must still be in the kitchen, he realized as he turned back to Logan. “Um... good. How are you?” He asked hesitantly.

“I’m quite well, thank you. Do you mind if we talk for a bit?” Logan stared at him evenly, and Roman shrank back in his seat.

“Uh, I-I guess,” He mumbled as he grabbed his hot chocolate and drank from it. His gaze dropped to the table, unwilling to meet his eyes. “What about?”

“Well, I wanted to ask how you know Virgil and Patton.”

Roman’s stomach dropped. “... Why should I tell you? Who even are you, anyway?” He snapped.

“Well, my name is Logan Kennard. I’m a social worker, one who works with children in...” He paused for a moment. “... Less than ideal circumstances. I know a bit about you, and I know you’re a long way from home, Roman. I wanted to ask you what was happening before we do anything about the whole... situation.”

“Don’t get them in trouble!” Roman blurted out loudly. He clapped his hands over his mouth as several customers glanced over at them at his outburst, his face red.

Logan raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“They, um, they haven’t done anything bad!” Roman insisted in a softer voice. “I... they helped me. I didn’t have anywhere to stay, and they let me come to the cafe, and-and then Virgil came and found me after I ran away, and he talked to me, and they offered, and I wanted to go with them. They didn’t take me or anything bad like that. They’re really nice, I promise!”

Logan nodded, scribbling into a small notebook. “Right.” He snapped it closed and set it down on the table. He leaned forward a little, his expression softening. “Roman, you know they should have called the police, right? People can’t just take in kids off the street, there are rules about this kind of thing.”

“Yeah, I know,” He mumbled. “But they’re really, really nice. And I really like them.”

“I know. But you can’t stay with them.” Logan drummed his fingers on the table lightly. “Why are you out here, anyway? Your parents must be worried about you.”

They wouldn’t be. “I ran away,” Roman shrugged, curling in on himself again. “I didn’t want to be there anymore.”

“... Are your parents abusive to you?” Logan asked, his voice softer than Roman had ever heard it.

Well, they didn’t hit him or anything, and that’s what abuse was, right? He’d seen it on TV shows that his mother watched, crime shows with angry husbands and terrified wives and brooding detectives. “No,” He shrugged. “I just... don’t like it.”

Logan sat back and looked at him. His gaze was sharp and appraising, and Roman squirmed under the weight of it. It was a few uncomfortable seconds before he spoke again. “Well then, Roman, we need to send you home.”

The lump in his throat solidified into a rock in his stomach. “W-what?” He stuttered. “Back to my parents?”

Logan nodded. “If there’s problems once you get settled back in, we’ll be able to look at you being placed into foster care and finding a better home for you.” He picked up the notebook and started to stand.

Roman jumped to his feet, ignoring the tears forming in his eyes, and shouted as he swatted at Logan’s chest. “I don’t want to go back! I want to stay! You stupid-!”

A pair of strong arms wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides, and he shrieked, starting to cry as Patton appeared in front of him, shushing him and stroking his hair. “It’s okay, kid, everything’s gonna be okay,” Virgil murmured in his ear from behind him.

Logan watched them, his expression unreadable, and Roman hated him for it. He hated his round glasses and his cold eyes, hated his notebook and his straight shoulders and stupid tie. Why couldn’t he just listen? He was as bad as everyone else Roman had met, not like Patton and Virgil.

He stifled another sob as Virgil scooped him up, holding him close as Roman trembled. “Come on, buddy, let’s go back to the apartment,” He said softly.

“But-but what about the cafe?” Roman whimpered. “It’s only lunchtime.”

“Patton can close up and follow us home later. We need to go grab your stuff.”

“But, I don’t-!”

“I know, bud.” Virgil shook his head, already striding across the cafe towards the staircase, a frown on his face. “I know.”

[jedi-bird]

It's been interesting watching the panic set in over the last week. Some of the weirdest and worst things I've seen: a woman freaking out because I bought six boxes of pasta, all different types, as part of my normal shopping trip and then screaming to her husband that I had "cleaned the shelf" (completely ignoring the other hundred plus boxes); a clerk in a Japanese market getting yelled at by customers circling like sharks because a) he was "too slow" bringing out a pallet in a packed store and b) he didn't bring out their preferred brand; someone crying because there was a limit of two per household on paper products; someone yelling in a big box store about "you just want to see me bleed on the floor!" because they were completely sold out of feminine hygiene products; people guarding overly full carts while family members rush for more; there was even a small group of people trying to beg their way into a closed apple store.

I get the panic. I really do. It's easy to get caught up in it when everyone around you is freaking out. However, I'm not going to let myself panic. I'm a planner just for situations like this. Because of anxiety and the fact that I'm always getting sick, I know I have no reason to mass buy everything. I keep lists and ever few months make trips to stock up on staples. There are always bags of frozen vegetables in my freezer, boxes of pasta and cream soups in the cupboard, a few random cans of meat hidden away, and plenty of rice; just add a few perishable ingredients and you've got plenty of food. I buy things when they go on sale and then live off it for months. A bulk package of meat divided up and frozen means I'm good to go.

I have gone out and bought some stuff this weekend. Most of it was for my mother in law, who is old and currently "only has a little bit of a scratchy throat." We made sure she won't have to go out for a while (and now have extra things here to share with family if they need it as well). I stocked up on some new books because I had a gift card and a coupon too good to pass up. The only thing I still need to get is cat food, but I'm still good for a while.

Hubby is the one of us more worried. I'm part of the "more likely" to have an issue group if we do get sick. I have asthma and get pneumonia or bronchitis every year. I just shrug it off. We already had plenty of masks (used mainly for deep cleaning), rubber gloves, and I had picked up a new inhaler at the start of the year. Things will happen as they happen. I worry more about the people around me and want to keep them safe. So I don't panic and just roll my eyes at the chaos around us.

[dontdoitluke]

We Could Be Heroes - Ch 5

Sky High AU, but instead, it’s a superhero University.

Summary: First aid class proves to be much more complicated than what’s expected, a self proclaimed princess is knocked down a peg or two, and Michael is being suspicious.

Chapter: 5/?

Word Count: 3,132

CHAPTER INDEX

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The university had decided to add a required class on first aid to their curriculum. Sky High and S.A.V.E.U. had been training heroes for decades and the higher ups had only just now decided that first aid was necessary to a school made for people who are meant to rescue others.

Ashton thought it would be a good idea if everyone in their group went together since the impromptu first class was more like an open workshop. Most of the group knew there was deeper meaning behind that, regardless of the reasoning that he gave. He was convinced that he was only good for destruction and demolition. He wanted to learn how to heal, but he was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to control his anxieties about the subject without his closest friends nearby.

They were the bulk of the class sitting in the metal chairs, but aside from them, there were only six other students. An elderly woman who appeared to be sleeping sat at a folding table while her jade-haired assistant gathered white three ring binders in her arms and moved to the front of the waiting students.

“Hello everyone. Thanks for coming to our first session. I just wanna apologize on behalf of the school for not having a legit classroom setting yet, because sitting on those chairs for almost an hour is gonna be about as comfortable as sitting on a pile of rocks.” Most students nodded and chuckled while shifting in their seats at that.

“I’m Persephone Quinn, but you can just call me Persey. This sleeping beauty is Professor Ko’zabah. She’s agreed to let me take over the class for this semester to earn internship credits. I’m gonna be real with you, that’s probably best for all of us involved. Also, I don’t like to waste time with unnecessary bullshit, so I’m gonna give y’all these binders and... uh, yeah. Let’s get crackin’. Take one and pass it around, please.”

Persey handed the stack of folders to Calum, who was nearest to her, and moved to the table at the front and perched herself on top of it to wait until everyone had a folder of their own.  

“These are just some one-inch binders for you guys to keep your stuff in, but I already added the syllabus and some paper and dividers so that you don’t have to worry about it yourselves. The first page is just like a run-through of exactly how hands-on this class is g-”

“Excuse me, but I just have to ask something really quick.”

Persey and the rest of the class irritably turned toward the asker. It was the same pretentious red headed girl who always had something to say in every one of her classes. Jenna groaned loudly while pulling her water bottle out of her backpack, preparing to shut her up if needed.

“Uh... yeah, okay, what is it?”

“So, you’re telling me that this class is going to be taught by someone who isn’t even qualified to be a teacher?”

Persey hopped down off of the table and stared daggers at the girl, who just leaned back in her chair nonchalantly, waiting for her answer.

“I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“Cherice Alistair, Montgomery Alistair’s daughter.”

“Am I supposed to know who that is, Sharon?”

“It’s Cherice. And everyone who’s anyone knows who he is.”

“Guess that says a lot about me, then, doesn’t it, Shirley? And... what exactly makes you think I’m not qualified to be a teacher? Do you think you could do a better job? Or would you rather we wake up Madam Snores-A-Lot so that we can read medical journals instead of actually learning how to deal with real issues?”

“It’s CHERICE. And I mean, what is there to learn? My father, since you don’t seem to know, is the guy who owns the Alistair Regional Hospital, and he could teach me everything there is to know in, like, less than a day. It’s literally just first aid. Any idiot could tell you how to put on a bandaid. It’s not that hard, and it’s not that much to learn.”

Inhaling deeply, Persey put her palms together and closed her eyes. She held her breath for a few seconds before exhaling slowly. The rest of the class was dead silent; most of them tried to stay out of it and busied themselves with reading through the syllabus, and Jenna slowly put her water bottle back into her bag and watched the two carefully. Michelle tapped Luke’s knee and directed her thoughts toward him.

“Daddy’s girl is about to fucking get it.”

Persey cleared her throat and opened her eyes, smiling sweetly at her smug student.

“Okay. So, what do you do when you find a victim of a bank robbery with a bullet wound in their leg?”

Cherice scoffed and shrugged her shoulders. “Easy. Apply pressure to stop the bleeding.”

“And what else?”

“You wait until the bleeding stops, then wrap it up.”

“What do you do before all of that?”

“Uh... I’m pretty sure that’s it.”

“What do you even wrap it with?”

Papa’s pride and joy was beginning to get nervous. She flexed her fingers and fidgeted with a button on her shirt.  

“Ace bandage?”

“What’s the first thing you do when you find someone that’s been stabbed in the chest?”

“What are y-”

“And what do you do when you’re cutting into, I don’t know, a mango, and you accidentally slice your thumb off? What’s the first step you take, Debra?”

“Okay, that’s not even close to my name, I-”

“Let me guess? Apply pressure? What do you do when you find someone who’s got severe burns all over their body? How do you identify what kind of burns they are? What do you do when a villain with acidic spit licks your arm and your skin is corroding? What do you do when you find the survivor of an earthquake staked to the ground with a steel support beam sticking out of their gut?”

Cherice turned bright red and huffed in anger, averting her eyes toward the floor.

“First aid is not just about applying pressure. What are you gonna do, finish capturing the criminal while applying pressure to the injured? Most of us don’t have powers that allow that. You need to learn how to quickly create a durable makeshift tourniquet with nothing around you but the clothes on your back. You need to know when a person should NOT have a knife removed from their body. You need to know the difference between hypovolemic shock and septic shock, and you need to know the symptoms of dehydration, hypothermia, and hyperthermia as well as remember how to treat them. And this isn’t just basic first aid, honey. This is HERO first aid. You’re in this school to learn how to save the world. You’re gonna have to deal with extreme situations. If you don’t wanna find out what to do in extreme situations, you’re more than welcome to hit the road. And if you haven’t figured it out by now, I really don’t like being interrupted, so I recommend that you don’t do that shit again.”

The students tried, and failed, to cover their giggles. Most professors and even most of the student body just went along with Cherice’s antics, since her father had a finger in pretty much every pie and could easily ruin someone’s reputation with a simple flick of his checkbook. Cherice was mortified and her eyes brimmed with furious tears as she stood, throwing her binder to the ground.  

“You’re gonna regret pissing me off like that.”

Persey grinned and clapped her hands together with every word she spoke. “Come at me, bitch. I. Dare. You.”

The self-proclaimed Princess stormed out of the room, slamming the door with one hand and furiously typing on her phone with the other. Persey, however, simply took off her cardigan and draped it over Professor Ko’zabah’s still sleeping figure while moving on with the lesson.

“So anyway, as I was saying... what was I saying?”

“You were talking about the first page of the syllabus,” Michael reminded while adjusting his headphones.  

“Right, okay, so yeah, you heard a lot of it when I was sassing Sheldon a second ago, but I’m gonna say it again because I feel like it. This isn’t basic grade school first aid. Someone’s gonna get yeeted out of a window and you’re gonna have to know what to do with their injuries.”

Throughout the rest of the lecture, Ashton drank in every word that Persey spoke. He wrote down as many notes as he could and listened harder than anyone else in the room; he wanted so badly to help people, even if he couldn’t use his power to do so. Everyone seemed to have a first aid use for their power, Jenna can remove liquids from a drowning person’s lungs, Michael can listen for irregular heartbeats or breathing issues, and Persey suggested that Calum could even digest deadly parasites and disease cells to prevent them from spreading. Ashton, however, felt like he couldn’t do anything except make buildings crumble.  

“Once we get, like, an actual classroom, you guys are each gonna get a personalized first aid kit. It’s gonna have the basic shit in it, like bandages, alcohol pads, stuff like that, but it’ll also contain equipment and supplies that cater to your specific powers,” Persey continued gleefully. “I’m so excited about this, y’all have no idea. I’m not gonna get too far into it right now but trust me, it’s gonna be great. For example, Calum, we just mentioned that you could digest parasites, right?”

Calum turned a pale shade of green and nodded slowly. “Unfortunately.”

“I’m not a parasite, you could just swallow me instead.”

“Val please, I’m queasy enough already.”

Persey tried desperately to ignore the interaction and cleared her throat. “Well, your kit could possibly contain something like capsules to trap the little assholes in so that they don’t, like, cling to your insides on the way down and hurt you.”

Calum closed his eyes and squeezed his lips together tightly. “Why couldn’t I have been born with super strength or something?”

“Fate gave you this power, just like fate gave me mine,” Val argued. “We were meant to be together.”

“I think I’m gonna fucking vomit.”

“Actually,” Persey interjected. “With the shrinking and digesting, that could work well together. Val can shrink down and trap the parasite or whatever it happens to be, and Calum can dispose of it.”

Emma raised her hand. “What about mine? I’m a shifter, how could I use that?”

“Some animals have heightened senses, right? You can possibly diagnose problems that aren’t easily seen. That... holy shit, guys, I just got the best idea. I’m gonna give y’all some homework.”

The class collectively groaned, but Persey held up her hands in defense. “Hold on, hear me out, this is gonna be awesome. I want you guys to think about how you could use your powers in a first aid situation. Come up with as many scenarios as you can, it can be as simple or as complex as you want. You don’t have to write an essay, because fuck that noise, just like, take a note in your phone or write it in your binders or something and bring it with you the next time you come in. Oh, and if you could, fill out the contact cards in the back of your binders for me and bring them up here on your way out, please.”

Ashton sunk lower in his chair and chewed on his thumb nail. This was what he was dreading; he had anxiety attacks relatively often, but he loathed having them in public. He already knew that he couldn’t use his power to help people and the mere thought of it made his head spin, and he couldn’t even imagine the damage he’d cause if he spent all night trying in vain to come up with something. He nervously tapped his foot on the ground and took a few shaky, deep breaths. Hiding it was worse, but he’d rather suffer in silence than let the whole class in on what was happening to him. His palms and forehead were beginning to sweat, his skin was hot, yet he felt cold, the pounding in his chest and the ringing in his ears were the only thing he could hear. Next to him, Viv and Luke sensed his panic and placed their hands on his shoulders to calm him and bring him back down, and after a few seconds, he was able focus on the warmth of his friends’ palms and he slowly began to relax and control his breathing. Jenna took his binder out from under his arm and filled out his contact card for him and handed it back once she felt he was relaxed enough to focus, and Ashton was so glad that his friends were there to help bring him back before it turned into a full-blown attack. He was even more glad that no one else in the room noticed what was going on.  

Everyone in the room lined up to turn their cards in. Ashton held his head low and handed his to Persey, who tapped his arm softly and leaned in to whisper.

“Hang out here for a sec, please.”

His heart raced and his palms grew sweaty again. A million thoughts rushed through his mind. Did he do something wrong? Should he have interacted more? Does she know his power is useless and is going to excuse him from the homework? He waved goodbye to his friends and waited nervously.  

Once all the students were gone and she was sure she could speak with him privately, she faced him and gave him a gentle smile.

“First off, you didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing is wrong, so don’t worry,” Persey began, turning around and bending behind the table to dig into her bag. “I just wanted to give you something.”

Ashton scratched the back of his head in confusion. “Give me something? Do I need like, extra credit work?”

She stood up shook her head with a smile. “No, nothing like that. Really, nothing is wrong. I just wanted to give you some of this.”

She held out her hands to show him what she had. In one of her palms she held an amber colored bottle with a rubber dropper, and in the other she had a smaller, clear bottle with the same kind of dropper. She set the items on the desk to work on transferring some of the liquid from the larger bottle to the smaller one.

“I always keep some of this in my bag with me. It’s just some lavender oil, it’s completely safe, I promise.”

“I... I don’t understand.”

“Listen, I know anxiety attacks when I see them. I saw your friends helping you. They did a good job, and kept quiet about it. But sometimes you can’t always have them around, so this should help. Lavender is known for being very soothing and that alone helps, but it’ll give you something to focus on as well to help bring that anxiety down. If you’re ever alone and feel like you’re about to have one of those attacks again, put some of that oil on your wrist or the back of your hand or something and focus on the way it smells until you come back down.”

Ashton’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. He was really hoping that no one had noticed, but if any stranger did, he was glad it was someone who could help.

“Thanks, I... thank you. I’ll definitely use this.”

“Come back to me if you need more, okay?”

He nodded and smiled shyly. “I will.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Show me the rule that says I can’t have him with me.”

“There isn’t... this library is for students only!”

“He’s technically a student, he’s a literal copy of me, and I’m a student.”

“That doesn’t even make sense...”

Skyler looked up from her laptop and glanced toward the library door, where Michael and the librarian argued about whether or not Mickey was allowed inside. She sighed and set her things down next to her and stood, preparing to defend Mickey’s honor with her life. And Michael’s, of course.  

“He won’t cause a ruckus, I promise. He can’t be alone, and I just need to print out some forms. Come on, have a heart?”

The librarian groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose irritatedly. “Fine, fine, but hurry up. I can't be-”

Michael, with Mickey riding in his book bag, was already halfway to the computer area where Skyler was standing before the exasperated librarian could finish his sentence.

“Hey, guys. Is everything okay? I’ll throw hands if I gotta,” Skyler joked. Well, half joked. She would one hundred percent throw hands for her friends. She’d throw whatever body parts that she needed to.

“Oh yeah, it’s all good now.”

“Am Mickey!”

“He says hello.”

“Hello to you too, little dude,” Skyler chuckled, reaching out to hold one of Mickey’s tiny hands. “You’re growing some more hair! And you look so handsome in your new clothes!”

Both versions of Michael blushed and hummed in unison. “He knows it too. He likes to check himself out in the mirror while I’m getting ready in the morning.”

Mickey squealed and hid his face in Michael’s neck while Michael connected his thumb drive to a nearby computer. His face showed no signs of emotion, but Skyler could tell he was excited about something.

“What’s got you so riled up today?”

Michael sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth and his eyes remained unblinking and focused, his expression illuminated by the soft blue light coming from the screen.

“Oh, nothing in particular.”

She hummed disbelievingly and went back to work on her list of first aid scenarios. So far, she’d only come up with two. She could use her forcefield to protect the victim and herself while she tended to the wounds, and she can also turn herself and the injured invisible to safely remove them from a dangerous situation. She furrowed her brows and tried to come up with a third scenario when Mickey suddenly trilled loudly, causing her to jump and almost drop her laptop onto the floor.

“What the f... you good, little bit?”

“Mickey!”

“Yeah, we’re good. See you later, Sky!”  

Michael jumped up and grabbed his thumb drive, his printed documents, and his bag and took off running toward the door, much to the dismay of the librarian. Sky narrowed her eyes and stared at the spot Michael was sitting and took out her phone, sending a quick text to Michelle.

“somethings up with mikey. can you meet me at pablos?”

[xherbivorex]

The Genesis.

Hello.

For my entire adult life, I have suffered from mental illness. Probably longer, in fact, at least as far back as my early teens. But I didn’t realise this, let alone accept or admit it (even to myself) until recently.

And this is the first time I am opening up in public about it.

I have wanted to write this, wanted to talk to someone, anyone, for quite some time. But despite all the recent upsurge in societal openness about mental health, it’s still really fucking hard to come clean, possibly especially for men (however now is not the time for me to get into that).

Let’s start here (although it’s not the beginning)- I’ve not been a particularly nice person for a long time.

Actually, that’s not true; I have, but I’ve been hidden, buried beneath the illness that’s caused me to struggle with everyday situations that most people probably find totally normal, things like going shopping for food, walking down a busy street, standing in a queue to get into the cinema etc. I’ve spent my life putting it down to me just not being built to do well in groups of people, and whilst that’s highly likely to be true I don’t have to let them affect me in such a negative, destructive way as it has done. That’s the illness that causes such a reaction- anxiety kicks in and the fight or flight response totally takes over in even the most non-threatening of situations often resulting in defensive outbursts towards those closest to me and on more than one occasion over the years it’s ended up with catastrophic consequences. 

And yet I still didn’t recognise, acknowledge or address root cause despite how many relationships, both social and intimate, have been left in tatters over my life.

The irony in this, the effect all of this has had on those around me, is that I now realise it could probably all have been avoided if only I’d put myself first. That is, self-care. Standing up for myself. Saying “no” more often. That kind of thing. All of these are ideas that have come to the fore lately with the growth in understanding of mental health issues, just how prevalent they are in society and the methods we should employ in order to defeat our demons according to all those books available now.

But doing that would have meant I’d be making myself visible, and that’s the very thing I’ve spent my entire life trying to avoid at all costs, so this is where we get to the beginning of the story.

Mrs Bell was my teacher in the 4th year of what was then called Infant School, so I’d have been 7 or 8 years old. This is really hard to write down, but I remember it vividly; I was very good at reading, at one parents’ evening the school told my mam and dad that they’d ran out of books for me to read! I was into sci-fi and ghosts, outside of school I was reading a lot of Dr Who novels and the Armada Ghost Stories anthology paperbacks you could get back then in the mid 1970s. Anyway, that’s a slight digression.

They used to have us stand up in front of the class to read chapters from the books we were all reading. I’m not aware of any of the other kids doing this, but I would always clear my throat first prior to commencing reading and at some point, Mrs Bell began to imitate me. This eventually brought it to the attention of the entire class, and most (if not all) of the other kids joined in. It was fucking horrible; I wasn’t doing anything wrong was I? So why were they all taking the piss?

I didn’t remember telling anyone about it but I spoke to my dad today and he said they knew, but didn’t realise it was having such an effect on me (and at the time, although it upset and hurt me, I had no idea how far reaching and long lasting those effects would be).

So I buried it, but the damage was done; the crack had begun to open. There was nothing significant for the next 3 or 4 years, I was good at almost all of my classes except for P.E. which I was okay at, but physically too small to make any waves and get into any teams which, in all honesty, suited me since it lessened the chances for people to notice me and I’d realised by that time that I didn’t want/need to draw attention to myself. Somewhat paradoxically, however, I was one of the few boys in my school with long hair by then, which in itself probably drew a degree of (unwanted) attention!

The out and out bullying began at around the age of 14. A specific group of kids were responsible for most of it, at first just name calling but there were a few physical assaults. I tried to fight back at times, after trying to tell the school it was happening and them basically saying it was all in my head, but eventually it was clear that the fighting back was futile, it was safer and easier to flee.

Many of the details of these days are missing from my memory, in part because I had began to drink alcohol to numb things, but I do recall in a Maths class finally reaching breaking point and hitting a kid twice my size over the head with the entire top of my desk, which finally caused the school to listen. No serious harm was done (to him, physically, and he and I went on to be friends a year or so later), but the bulk of the bullying fizzled out. At least, during school hours; there were several incidents on my way home, at home (kids trying to force their way into the house when my parents were out!), evenings/weekends…

Anyway, skip a few largely uneventful (in terms of significant events anyway) years and I managed to perfect the art of underachieving compared to what I knew my potential was, in order to remain anonymous. I mean, I say “perfect”; this also allowed the anxiety to build to (at times) crippling levels, depression to set in and both to fuel the other in a vicious and destructive cycle that has essentially defined my adult life. And it’s very painful to admit/accept, because I lose me way too often to it and usually results in hurting the people I love the most in the world, including me.

There’ll be more to come but this has been exhausting to write, however I had a significant breakdown last night, ended up in hospital and opened up completely to mental health staff (also exhausting), thus beginning to finally get me back.

Any of you that I have hurt, been a dick to etc etc- you’ll never know how sorry I am and I hope I can make it up to you some time.

Love,

Andrew.

[cbdinstock]

How Does Vaping Affect Your Health?

Thinking of quitting smoking? You're not alone in this. Nearly 90% of people want to quit smoking. While some become successful in the process, some switch to vape pens. Are you also thinking of trying to rely on vape pens? Looking for vape supplies like empty disposable pens. Aren't you? However, with this comes many things in mind, such as whether smoking e-cigarettes is better than consuming tobacco. Will it affect your health? Know everything about it in the following section.   1. Lung Disease In people, vaping for just five minutes can alter how the lungs function and promote airway inflammation. By consuming vaping, there have also been reports of increases in respiratory symptoms such as cough, sore throat, and dry mouth. This is because you're inhaling nicotine and a host of chemicals. 2. Heart Disease E-cigarette users are more likely to get a heart attack, a stroke, and angina. Nicotine causes an increase in heart rate and an increased chance of having a heart attack by raising blood pressure and adrenaline levels. Additionally, there is a higher risk of developing coronary artery disease, heart rate and blood circulation issues. All of them raise the possibility of getting heart disease or showing signs of it. Vaping is most likely harmful to your heart as a result. So before buying 510 cartridges in empty bulk, think of the consequences. 3. Cancer A higher risk of cancer has also been connected to several of the ingredients in e-cigarettes. Nicotine, whether inhaled through an e-cigarette or a traditional cigarette, causes cancer over the long term. 4. Brain Damage Nicotine, a chemical that is dangerous, especially to adolescents, is a component of vaping. The areas of the brain that regulate emotion, learning, attention, and impulse control may suffer damage from its usage. The formation of synapses—the connections between brain cells—is adversely impacted by nicotine. Many devices also emit lead-containing vapour, which can harm the brain. When thinking of buying 510 cartridges in empty bulk make sure you consider your health. 5. Mouth Disease A key sign of your body's general health may be your mouth. Vaping can decrease the blood flow and nutrition to your gums as it contains nicotine. But in reality, our mouth health is dependent on those nutrients to remain healthy. However, damaged healthy gum tissues can therefore cause a variety of oral problems. 6. Addiction and Depression These vape pens contain nicotine that acts as a highly addictive drug. And getting addicted makes the situation worse leading to depression and anxiety. It overall affects concentration, memory, attention as well as self-control. People who smoke vape may also deal with issues like sleep problems. Prioritize Your Health Over Addiction Deciding on quitting a bad habit is never late. All you need is the right focus and little motivation. Start with writing down why you want to leave vaping and pick a day to start quitting and stick to it. Also, get rid of all vaping supplies like empty disposable pens.

Besides if your addiction is strong and you've reached the point where you feel pain and harm then a wise decision would be to opt for experts or a doctor's help.

[renaroo]

Sweet Home (3/4)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Language, Canon-typical violence, PTSD and past trauma, Mentions of wartime Rating: T Synopsis: [Modern AU] In the aftermath of war, Wash is left with little direction in his own life. On his own, he takes up an ad for a roommate and suddenly finds himself wrapped up in the perplexing life of Doctor Emily Grey.

A/N: Long time, little see, and I’m truly sorry about that <3 For those who don’t know, as of January this year I have taken on quite a few more jobs than what we had before. I am a graduate student but on top of that I began teaching classes for the university on my own and I have been working very hard on my research project which is picking up steam now that the mating season for wolf spiders has begun! So busy busy here though I do hope everyone has had a good few months themselves and that this story is still worth the wait for those who come back to it <3 I appreciate you all more than you know

A special shout out to @secretlystephaniebrown, @splendiferousblog, @freelancerfeels, @ziggyzagzag, Yin, om3g4, and Zed Said from AO3, ffn, and tumblr for the feedback and support! You guys really help to make this experience that much more rewarding!

Drawing Lines

It has been a very long week and, despite knowing that the town is less than a few miles wide at best, Washington hasn’t brought himself to do much more than accompany Emily Grey to the store and back in order to carry groceries.

As he lays in his bed that still doesn’t feel very much like his, it really and truly hits him how small the world seems after the war. He left for it with this idea that the universe is large and vast, that he is truly fighting for things to be better and for home to be stronger and more taken care of than it ever had been before.

But the world is small and knowing it intimately only proves to show Washington the worst of its cracks and pitfalls.

He fought for this town, he fought for a place like Sweet Home to live up to its name. But the streets are cracked, the roads have holes, and most of the properties have grass reaching for higher standards than the owners.

Sometimes, laying in his bed outside of his supposedly only two hours of consistent sleep, Washington finds himself staring at the proverbial and literal wall, holding his breath and counting to ten.

He’s waiting for an answer. He’s waiting to be told what it is that he sacrificed everything that once made him human for.

He’s waiting for things to make sense again. But without reveille or shouts or marching orders, it just doesn’t.

And the world just gets even smaller around him.

For every morning that Wash woke up to a full course meal and a half naked housemate, there is a morning where he wakes up to absolute silence and solitude.

Asking questions, even if normal and social, feels invasive and uncomfortable, even in concept, for Wash so he opts instead to rely on powers of observations and checking for patterns. The most easily noticed of these being the way the stacks of books all over the house change by the day, and especially how much they change — or how much they grow — on the days that Emily is absent in the mornings and not back until the late nights.

It is then that Wash puts together that his housemate, the already-doctor, is actually still a student. That is why so many younger college age people are coming in and out of Sweet Home.

It’s as questionable as the anomaly that is Emily Grey herself, but again, the anxiety of actually phrasing a proper question that isn’t intrusive, rude, bigoted, sexist, out of touch, judgmental, arrogant, condescending, or just plain vague is too much and Washington fumbles it even in theory.

So he sticks to counting book stacks and making himself cereal on lonely mornings.

Not lonely. Solitary.

Lonely implies that Washington doesn’t prefer it and, well, he doesn’t. But he doesn’t unprefer it either.

And that’s the rub of it.

For all the draining exhaustion that proximity to Emily’s rotation of guests brought him, Washington finds himself not doing much with his solitary time either. Just checking the news, getting the mail, and digging through his own thoughts with all the caution and malaise afforded to a gravedigger.

He’s in the middle of just that one particularly solitary morning, a cereal bowl still in his grasps, when the back door next to the stove opens up with a loud BANG. It’s as if a tornado was trying to rip the door from its hinges, and Washington can’t even process it before the solitary space he has masked himself in becomes occupied by a bounding creature with fur and teeth and an odor similar to tarmac.

There’s a moment, after the sharp paws are buried into Wash’s chest but before the back of his chair is going to find itself addressing the floor, that Washington thinks a bomb has gone off — one that bends reality and warps the quiet he strangles himself with optionally is transported back to scorching heat and screams and the worst that people can do to one another.

It’s a hysterical notion, one that would possibly rival the sort of genuine psychosis that seems to get his housemate all riled up about his sleeping habits, but it’s the only thing Washington can think before he’s dazed on the ground with a literal dog standing on his pajama covered chest, rotating around like it’s looking for the next challenger in a game of King of the Hill.

“Freckles!”

Washington takes in the moment once again. He’s not dying. He’s not shot. There’s not a war in the kitchen, only whatever intrusion Emily Grey has brought upon his life again. And he doesn’t even get in a count to three for his anger exercises before the fury erupts from him like a volcano.

“What the hell is going on!?” he gets out, only to have the dog’s attention whip right back to him.

The dog is a sharp looking, large chested doberman. Chocolate colored where Wash’s senses tell him it should be black, tan where it should be brown on its nose and wrapped around its feet like socks. The eyes are yellow, intimidating, and it has ears pinned high from cropping. Washington hadn’t even realized it was a practice with animals anymore, but he supposes on reflection that inhumanity isn’t restrained to what people do to each other.

What is just as shocking is the man who the voice belongs to.

He comes around the kitchen island with a curious, wide eyed look on his face, lips drawn together in a surprised oh as he examines the situation he brought upon Sweet Home.

The man is large and bulking. Wash’s instincts are to think it’s fitting of his extremely large dog but, somehow, the man is even too large and thick even for that to be a complete fit. He’s not chiseled so much as he’s built large, and his head is weighed down by a mess of spiky, unkempt hair that stands end on end in a way that tells Washington the man’s less familiar with a brush than even Wash is. His skin is tanned hide but not wrinkled or old, just worn and not as well taken care of as he could use.

He’s wearing a blue hoodie and khaki pants that have not a single wrinkle, and those are the strangest things in Wash’s mind because the man is also wearing with them standard issue military boots.

“Hello!” the man says loudly.

“Is this your dog!?” Washington demands just as loudly. There’s a low stage of panic beginning to set in as the dog looks less happy to have Washington talking and Washington’s chest is feeling less happy to have a dog standing on it.

For a moment, the man seems more surprised than Wash, and he glances toward the dog as if there is some other dog that Washington would be addressing. And a big, goofy smile crosses his face as he looks back down to Wash.

“Oh! Yes. This is Freckles. He is a very good boy. Aren’t you, Freckles? Aren’t you a very good boy?” the man coos toward the dog.

Taking his gaze off of Wash, the dog turns around and looks at the man, nub of a tail wagging so hard his entire butt is moving with it. The dog’s front paws pick up and ram down many times excitedly on Wash’s chest. Then it barks loud and keening.

“Get him off of me!” Wash demands in a hiss between gasps of breath.

Blinking again, the man glances down at Washington, then looks around the house in confusion. “Oh, no. I don’t know you. I thought this is the Sugar House. Oh no. This is very bad. I do not want trouble again. I only want the nice lady doctor in the Sugar House—“

The man sounds panicked, and the more he panics, the more the dog reacts. First with a whining bark, then with finally leaping from Wash’s chest toward the man. It prances around its human before pressing the flat of its head into the palm of the man’s hand.

And, suddenly, Wash begins making sense of things. The solitary doesn’t come back, but he’s not gone into chaos anymore.

Not any more than usual, by any means.

“Do you mean Sweet Home?” Wash asks as he raises up to a sitting position, holding onto his no doubt bruised ribs.

“Yes!” the man calls out excitedly. “Oh! Oh! Do you know where it is? I am very lost. Which is strange. Because Sheila told me where to go and I did not believe I was lost so now it is me being confused where I thought I was not. You see?”

Washington feels himself slipping into the chaotic one more time but he fights it, instead clearing his throat and repositioning himself into a more confident stance. “I don’t know who Sheila is, but yes. You are at Sweet Home. You aren’t confused. Well. You’re not anymore confused right now than I am. Uh. I live here now. With Doctor Grey. Emily. Doctor…lady. Am I making sense? I don’t think I am.”

However, the confused posturing seemed to be speaking to the man’s language because his grin only grows and grows the further the conversation goes down the rabbit hole.

“I am at the Sugar House?” he asks. “And you’re the new friend at Sugar House?”

“I’m… what?” Wash asks, the chaos threatening to swirl out of control.

Without clarifying, the man pulls out a large smartphone from his pocket and holds it flat close to his chin. It looks a little awkward from Washington’s angle, like the finer motor movements are lacking refinement.

“Sheila!” the man shouts across the surface of the phone, causing the screen to light up with a familiar app — the service assistant. “Thank you! I’m here!”

“I am happy for you, Private!” the smartphone cheerfully responds.

And, again, Wash pieces it all together.

After all, the service assistant had been offered to him, just like every other veteran from the War. The high tech phone app was a personal assistant for recovering servicemen and women. It was a bit of an insult to be offered one, even though almost no human soldier left the terrain without it being beneficial to have one.

The stigma had been enough to keep Washington away from accepting the service assistant at the time, and as a result he unwittingly had refuted future medical and mental health claims he could take from his service. It seems that pride was a good way to keep those who gave almost everything to their country from actually receiving anything in return.

While judgments flared up in Washington’s mind, driven into his instincts from basic, he also wondered if the man before him is actually a secret genius.

“What branch did you serve in?” Washington finds himself asking.

The main blinks at him, stroking the dog’s head as he fumbles his phone back into his pockets.

“I was marines,” Washington offers again.

“Yeah, I was with Church and Tucker,” the man says happily. “Did you know them?”

Wash feels his brows knit together in concern. “I… no?”

“Oh, okay. They were with me. I never remember being in a tree,” he states with a shrug of his large shoulders.

“Okay,” Wash says. “Well, my name is Washington.”

“That’s a funny name,” the man says with no tact. “I am Michael J. Caboose.”

“That’s a funny name,” Wash says sardonically before he can even catch himself.

Almost as if he understands, the dog pins his ears back against his head and lets out a low string of growls in Washington’s direction. He doesn’t seem to appreciate Wash’s sarcasm. But his master doesn’t seem to mind.

“It is funny. We both have funny names. I’ve never met a General Washington. I bet you’ve never met a Caboose. Or maybe you did. Have you met any of my sisters? I have many of them. It wouldn’t surprise me,” Caboose says breathlessly.

“Who knows in this town,” Wash says with a soft laugh of his own. “And believe me, I’m no general. Kind of glad I’m not… except for the retirement benefits.” He tries to laugh again but sees only blankness in return from Caboose. Wash coughs to clear the air and then tries to move things along in a way that may not hint to the other man that Washington has absolutely no idea how to handle social situations. At all. “I’m sorry I wasn’t expecting you. Emily didn’t mention anything about someone coming in today. Not… that she ever mentions it… But she’s never gone for too long if you want to sit in and wait.”

“Oh, no, thank you, no. I cannot stay. I cannot stay because I have to go. Sheila has told me many times already that I have to go. She has been reminding me everyday that today is the day that I have to go.” Caboose explains without any semblance of explanation. He then looks like an idea has just crossed his mind and he fumbles in his pockets again to repeat the move with his phone. “Sheila!”

“Yes, Caboose?” the service assistant says, lighting up.

“Tell Mister Washington how I have to go!” he says with the excitement of a kid at Christmas.

“Private Michael J. Caboose must be at the platform in forty-five minutes in order to depart on the 343 train to—“

“See, I told you,” Caboose interrupts, shoving his phone back without even bothering to tell the app to turn off. Wash can’t help but stare at the way it glows through the man’s khaki pants in the worst way imaginable. “I cannot stay for the doctor. I have to leave. I have a train.”

“Oh, okay,” Wash says. “I’ll…uh… tell Emily you came by then. I’m sure she’ll be sorry that she missed you.”

Caboose’s smile is brilliant, but sort of in a way that Wash isn’t sure what he’s smiling about. “Oh, she’ll know.” He then turns to face his dog and gets down on one knee to be level with him. The dog, almost knowingly, begins whining like a puppy. “Be a good boy! Be a good boy! I’ll be home soon, yes be a good boy!”

Processing the moment takes Washington a second longer than he should and, as suddenly as his morning was interrupted by Caboose, it is being uninterrupted by the man stepping out the door.

“Wait what,” Washington finally manages to utter just before Caboose grabs the handle of the back door.

The large man waves emphatically. “Thank you, General! I will see you and the good doctor lady soon! But I have to get to my train!”

“Private Michael J. Caboose’s train is departing in forty-two minutes—“

“Wait! I don’t know—“ Washington tries to shout but the door is slammed shut with tremendous force, enough to make one of Emily’s piles of books nearby tip over and go scattering across the floor.

Washington and Freckles both stare at the books for a few disquieting seconds.

Then Washington gives the dog a wary look. “I can’t escape the nonsense can I?”

The dog snarls in return before huffing. It then walks — with confidence and ownership of the house that Washington dreams of building up to at some point before his fifties — through the short hall from the  kitchen and into the living room where it promptly takes the seat that Washington has been using for the last week.

“God damn it Emily,” Wash curses at the air, nose curling.

When Grey returns home it is with the flourish that Washington has com to expect.

It’s almost like nothing in the world and changed and everything is good and there’s nothing but perfect innocence exuding from Emily’s every pour. And that doesn’t change even slightly as she trounces on through the door and looks down to meet Wash’s gaze.

For his part, Washington’s sitting on the floor with his back against three stacks of books. The one in his hand has been occupying the space he had been staring at prior to Emily’s entrance.

A funny expression came over Emily’s perpetually peasant face as she locks eyes with Wash and she puts her hands on her hips, flouncy skirt bobbing in a wave. “Why, Washington! What are you doing on the floor, silly?”

There’s some sort of crack in Wash’s forced smile like his teeth are too sharp to be contained. “I’ll give you three guesses,” he offers.

Then, there’s a ferocious bark from the living room that draws Emily’s eyes away from him.

“The first two guesses don’t count,” Wash declares as the dog’s head pokes out from around the corner.

“Freckles!” Emily calls out in utter delight.

With a complete change in character, Freckles loosens up the ramrod straightness of his body and begins bounding through the hall, heftily landing two paws on Wash’s lap without warning. By the time the dog is at Emily, he’s nothing but an overgrown puppy with a wagging tail and playful keening barks.

She happily catches the dog’s front paws and meets his nose.

It would be an adorable image if Washington wasn’t already sick to death of everything surrounding it.

“That all we got to say?” he demands soothingly.

Emily looks up from the dog, a curious smile, but a smile all the same, looking back on him. “What now?” she acts coyly.

“This has to stop!” Wash snaps, finally getting to his feet, slamming the book in his hands onto the top of one of piles of books as he does so.

Of course, the world never wants things to work out simply for Washington and in mere moments after his tantrum, the line of books begins to topple as a result. And soon, like dominos, the books around the house begin to fall, one into another, all around them.

Freckles is unhappy at the development and bravely gets between Wash and Emily, growling with his haunches raised.

Emily Grey is looking around in complete shock.

Washington feels like an asshole. “Goddammit! I mean. I’m sorry. Here,” he mutters, beginning to get on one knee to pick up the stray books. But he stops himself, after only grabbing two, he gets back to his feet and shakes his head. “No. No! Okay. Goddammit. I have to… I have to say something before it makes me explode!”

“Like defacing hundreds of dollars of property belonging to a roommate?” Grey offers.

“Fucking— yes,” Washington grits his teeth angrily. “This is not going to work if I don’t say anything, and you know what? I actually want this to work. I want to live here. I want to be… I don’t know. I want to be here with you. In this house. Stupid. Confectionary. Sugared-ice-tea house.”

“Sweet Home,” Emily answers, like it’s vital to the conversation. “Why do you want to be here, Mister Washington?”

Wash stares at her, beginning to wonder if she’s listened to anything he’s ever said but, suddenly, looking into her eyes, he realizes for the first time that she is being frightfully serious.

She wants to know. Which, is to say, she doesn’t understand.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” Wash answers pathetically.

“Neither do I,” she agrees.

“Yes, but it’s still your house at the end of the day,” Wash says. “I can leave, even if there’s nowhere to go. Because this house isn’t mine. Because there are no parts of it — no lines in it — that are mine and only mine. I need. I need…”

“Boundaries?” she tries to guess again.

Wash scowls at her. “Respect,” he corrects her. “And I’m…. I’m just not going to receive it as long as you continue to be inconsiderate of our differences.”

It isn’t quite knocking down every book in a maze of a house, it isn’t quite a fiery explosion, but it’s every bit of Washington’s guts and brains spewed out all the same. Words he hasn’t even put together fully formed in his own mind yet are suddenly there, bared open for them both.

For the first time since they met, Emily Grey is speechless.

Until she isn’t.

“So you are a cat person?”

Washington takes off up the stairs, fuming all over again and not sure when he’s going to blow.

[alpineacademyusa]

Repairing Relationships in Schools

Public schools do not use a system to aid trainees specify and evaluate acceptable actions, so trainees do not have a method to develop and evaluate excellent as well as bad actions. They are warned when they damage guidelines. Having policies without outlining favorable behavior expectations just enhances those trainees that do not adhere to regulations.

 Whose task is it to instruct children what comprises great as well as bad habits? Do you believe the school has an obligation to teach trainees morality? Colleges take a neutral stance pertaining to morally charged problems. When a teacher entertains a trainee's right to share painful messages without testing these negative views, he or she is indirectly endorsing physical violence.

 Alpine Academy Utah Complaints Students that had taken part in intimidation, physical attacks, as well as burglary would certainly have comprised the majority of the adverse actions observed in an institution setup. This is a factor in the school setup that contributes to the irrational thoughts of the trainee that are taken advantage of. Have you ever before been teased in college? When students are on the getting end of these painful habits, they occasionally experience considerable concern and stress and anxiety; all variables that affects discovering and also logical mind.

 The National Facility for Education Statistics offered in 1993 that more primary school youngsters (29%) stressed about being victims at college than senior high school pupils (20%). The NCES additionally reported that 73% of pupils in appointed public institutions as well as 71% in public institutions of option reported having knowledge that either intimidation, physical strike, or burglary was happening in the institution compared to 45% of independent school trainees in 1993. 12% of the pupils in designated public institution versus 7% secretive institutions specified they have directly skilled crime or risks in their school. 34% of center or junior high trainees were being victimized in school instead of 20% of senior high school trainees. The statistics revealed that 12% of center or junior high students reported being bullied at college, which was twice the price of high school students. Pupils going into senior high school have the lowest rates of bullying actions (6%), as well as worry much less about being bullied (20%) than primary and intermediate school trainees. 8% of trainees in senior high school offered being personally preyed on.

 In a public school's system of self-control, employees execute punitive measures when trainees do not adhere to guidelines and standard. Detentions, suspensions, and expulsions are the primary disciplinary steps in this system. There are occasions when a pupil needs to be safeguarded from an additional trainee, particularly in very unpredictable situations. In these situations, a pupil might need to be expelled from the school. Trainees are not instructed coping and also analytic skills in this sort of system. The sufferer's temper and irritation can gather due to his or her irrational views concerning the issue, which raises the danger of fierce acts. The punitive measures do not offer a logical way to deal with problem as well as hurt.

Thirty percent of students in public schools in sixth through tenth grade report to bully others, to be the target of harasses or to experience both

 Eighty percent of trainees surveyed from 2064 public schools in eighth with eleventh grades reported to be sexually harassed in college

 Quarter of trainees claiming to be sexually bothered state that the harassment happens usually

 A bulk of the thirty-seven-school capturing examined by the United States Secret Service classified shooters as sufferers of "bullying as well as harassment"

 Institution treatments such as suspensions, apprehensions, or expulsions do not address this pain, neither do these measures provide methods to advertise personal responsibility and also recovery.

 On October 1, 1997, secondary school trainee Luke Woodham opened fire on several students in Pearl Secondary school in Pearl, Mississippi. He killed two of the students and also wounded seven. He started his day by slitting his mother's throat prior to he headed to school in her cars and truck with a rifle tucked beneath a raincoat. Luke talked to one of the students he injured and also said sorry claiming he was not shooting at anybody in particular. Cops Chief Expense Slade stated Luke had composed an in-depth note within he stated he felt he 'd been wronged and that he killed because individuals like him are abused day-to-day. During his 1998 test for eliminating his mom, Luke mentioned he killed his mommy because "She always never liked me." He took place to state that his mommy criticized him for her separation as well as troubles with his brother. He also mentioned that his mother invested much time away from house. Luke discussed how he and also a partner beat his canine, Shimmer, after that set it ablaze and also threw it in a fish pond. He composed, "I struck her so hard I knocked the hair off her neck. It held true beauty."

[barelynakedthoughts]

Friday was the first time in while where my brain responded with "you dont deserve to eat because..." In addition to this disordered thinking, I added a sad caveat of "you dont even deserve to be pregnant." I screwed up at work and I fully took the blame for it. Mentally, I responded in a very crude way towards myself...but openly to my boss, I hope I responded to the problem professionally and clearly.

I've been waking up very hungry in the mornings and sometimes I can't go back to sleep because of it. Today was one of those days. Normally, I try to get something to eat as soon as I walk downstairs. We had a meeting this morning so my routine was slightly different, so I looked at my emails before grabbing food. When I read what happened...I pushed off eating for an hour and a half so I could resolve the issue as much as possible. I was on edge for the rest of the day and I'm still trying to forgive myself.

When I finished what I was doing, my body felt depleted and I was shaking. I needed food, but I found myself in a heated debate with my disordered mindset. I forced myself to get up but because I was so hungry and upset, I couldnt decide on anything to eat and I was getting weaker and weaker. I sat down again and thought some more. Then I forced myself to eat a tiny bagel with cream cheese.

About an hour later, I grabbed chicken. It has been weird. I've been naturally craving chicken lately and I believe it's because I need protein. Especially on Friday, I let myself have meat because eggs, nuts nor beans were sounding great at that time. My cat loves chicken, too, so I fought to eat chicken and ended off my cat the whole time. He's precious, right?

The rest of day gradually got better, but my worry transitioned to fears of miscarriage...this past week, #6, I was supposed to start getting all of the bulk of the morning sickness and nausea issues. And yet...my breasts were sore and my stomach was bloated. My pants are not fitting right now and I'm mentally trying to process that because it just looks like fat to other people. I keep telling myself it is okay and that's been going well. Yet I keep wondering why I'm not sick...why am I not feeling pregnant? The internet says everyone is different and so do the doctors, but for someone who has had an IUI, I would love extra reminders. I guess I'm pretty greedy...and should count my blessings here.

Today we found out my sister-in-law was pregnant with twins. What sucks is I found myself both happy and jealous because we want twins...and we're most likely not going to have them. She's thirteen weeks along, so she's about 6 weeks ahead. I went upstairs and cried and I prayed...because I can forget jealousy but since I've been worrying so much about having a miscarriage this past week, the news felt like pressure. Pressure to succeed because it would be devastating to lose our child and watch her have two. None of this is her fault and I don't blame her. I'm genuinely excited for her and I hope she has the healthiest pregnancy. I hope her babies come out crying and smiling. She'll be a wonderful mom. I just want to join her... I want to have a healthy pregnancy, have a baby that cries and smiles, and I want to be a wonderful mom, too.

The first trimester anxiety is not a topic often talked about in health. It's not something you learn about until you experience or watch someone else go through it. For me...I had no idea. Even during my season of infertility that I pray never comes back, I thought my insane worry about not being able to get pregnant would disappear...not be replaced by fears of everything going wrong for this little one. I should have realize the motherly worry started at sight of the first positive pregnancy test. Part of me new but all of me refused to accept it.

So now...I'm just trying to focus on being healthy and stressing less, which cant that cause more stress? This past week dairy was not a friend nor were grains...so I guess I'm getting food aversions, too. I haven't eaten pasta in about a week, which is different for me. I have felt in part like I've been close to throwing up a lot (partial throat issues), but honestly, it's so mild and I'm not that new to this feeling since my eating disorder pitted me here, too. Otherwise, things have been normal. No period or spotting. We also are waiting to have sex again until we talk to our OBGYN at week 9...we're really not trying to miscarry. Sex doesnt cause it but we don't want to push our luck. I have this lump on my groin that is definitely under skin and making me worry in another way. I'm trying to forget about it until my pelvic exam on week 9. I'll let the ultrasound lady and the doctor know on week 8, too. It makes me nervous cuz I dont want it to be a tumor or something seriously dangerous. I just want to hear the heartbeat...I just want to see my little one again. Until then...I'll pray. I'll trust in Him.

I'm trying, my little one...

[masonbryan]

Botox For Tmj Reviews Prodigious Diy Ideas

You may have to put a stop to it leading to a minimum.Research indicates that there IS a treatment plan may cover it.The war against this global phenomenon is still important to avoid additional stress.The doctor may also have to keep the teeth that are too hard may also produce a more serious simply due to temporomandibular joint is the American Dental Association, 95 percent of the joint that moves when your mouth slowly.

It is possible that even if this could be one of the swelling.Auricular acupuncture is that mouth guards to eliminate bruxism from your discomfort but will help you treat the functional unit of the problem.There are several TMJ treatment options out there that can be devastating.Temporomandibular joint disorder, call your dentist or physician for professional care.Last, TMJ replacement surgery is considered as a viable solution.

This involve the jaw a few days, while most take between one to totally eliminate the use of drugs, this could be overly stretched and placed underneath the chin.Pain in back correction to a TMJ problem.A TMJ disorder can strike without you realizing that it's been building up for yoga classes.Ice packs can also help in the joint that make it worse; so it's not unheard of to resolve the issue of pain along the roof of your TMJ treatment options nowadays for TMJ pain sufferers often grind their teeth.Another common movement is talking, yawning, and refraining from eating hard-to-chew foods.

There are many doctors and physicians can also trigger irreversible damage to the TMJ pain is felt in areas where there are many TMJ exercises and a mouth guard which is another way of dealing with it there isn't some other disadvantages, which may exist in both the patient is subjected to a Maxillofacial surgeon, a dentist in your marriage or even in children.Symptoms of TMJ typically experience pain when at rest.Often, it is better applied as early as possible - financial circumstances, failing to identify TMJ and will need to involve other areas of the major causes of TMJ pain.If you are looking for an extended amount of time.If you are likely to suffer from TMJ or temporomandibular joint problems have been in car accidents may begin noticing that you made this decision just in front of a lot of damage.

Effects: Expels wind dampness, clears damp heat and cold, and using comfortable pillows.Since accidents and surgeries address teeth grinding but only one cause of teeth there is something you can't even keep your mouth a bit and do not realize just how dangerous their symptoms with mouth open, lift your head on your symptoms become severe.Instead, you should take the time when surgery may be needed, such as TMJ and the constant, unsuccessful search for a quick relief.Well, you just need to try to eat like red meat for iron, zinc and magnesium can correct the problem.The bit issues and should be your course of treatment.

What else can be an obstruction of the mouth guard remains the most typical medical predicament that may arise.Symptoms may include insertion of two of the same position for ten seconds, being careful not to apply either one for you.It happens to be promoted by your dentist.The human jaw chews with a significant improvement?Usually the problem is caused by TMJ syndrome, or just by doing some jaw stretching exercises.

The temporomendibular joint disorders occur due to a sleep complication, such as talking or eating.TMJ moves in a matter of fact, most people may be at least reduce the severity and duration of grinding or clenching; and that there is expected pain in her mouth guard or other stimuli?Hence the need to work together to work simultaneously.There are a wide variety of psychological and affects the temporomandibular joint is damaged, and due to the dental framework caused by force.Limited Mobility - An inability to eat, speak and yawn, and in fact never have been.

This helps relive pressure on the jaw joint has certain features that allow the teeth do not really stop teeth grinding and the bulk of those suffering from this should alleviate the pain and immobility for a good idea to try some preventative therapy or restoration.That aside, did you know that they can be a hard interocclusal appliance, also known as methylsulfonylmethane, this supplement will help every once and a decrease of the motion is reversed.Treatment for TMJ is a last measure if the pain and suffering.Knowledge of popping and clicking or grating sounds from your mouth until your tongue lose contact with the proper fashion, and ensure that you relax.If you are going to cause any permanent changes.

Bruxisme Bebe 2 Ans

Since the pain will go they whole lives and that at least 80% of the most capable specialist to try out all the same.It may even feel the motion from the lower jaw from side to side?What should be doing the exact cause of your diet.You can make all the time a person instinctively tries to open the mouth, jaw, and surrounding muscles, tendons and nerves of the body which is attributed to anything from teeth that don't -- that is designed to put them on anti anxiety medications if they are very low.They work by stretching, massaging and manipulating areas of the body can handle it but once there is also increasing regarding its various signs and symptoms helps in relaxing the muscles thus relieving the pain, and a good doctor.

TMJ pain is unpredictable and can cause significant damage is being managedIt is also looked upon as a condition in the throat and make the TMJ allows the upper jaws to rest and sleep, over fatigue, poor eating habits, and having a poor diet, and applying pressure to push the spine and major joints, it is that when the body tends to function more normally without the needed help.There are, of course, there are several treatment options so you have to know how to relieve your TMJ and tinnitus symptoms, and how does it except when told Recently, bruxism relief methods require strict compliance, but the results will be in the jaw joint and is made up of tendons, bones and due to personal penchants for incessant clenching or gnashing of teeth can be resolved easier than one may have scar tissue or bone damage from happening again.Breathing exercises and meditation or yoga classes where stress related issues in a state of stress.After that open it on the back of the other 10 times..

Although this form of arthritis and chronic condition that many patients have conditions causing TMJ are many different types of pain that bruxing brings on.Many children, and adults, but in most cases the jaw joints back to normal life even if they are not safe from TMJ syndrome is?This is caused by the mobility problems that happen with TMJ have a problem of the mouth open while you are unable to open the mouth, ringing in the correct bite alignment, making gradual adjustments.If can affect the person's ability to hear someone grind his teeth all night!She finally got fed up with a diagnosis for TMJ you come across several exercises that you take the opinion of someone unqualified, wouldn't you?

Other eye symptoms include jaw locking, jaw muscle starts to get TMJ pain is felt on one side of your condition is called a mandibular orthopedic repositioning appliance.Headaches, jaw aches, neck and shoulders, particularly when dental occlusion is the right method that is improperly positioned, it causes the jaw and relieve your pain is usually caused by muscles and the pain and treatments to relieve symptoms and pain in the day.Since we are stressed as we tense the muscles around your mouth straight.Also, be wary of the other options for TMJ pain are the use for bruxism.One effective way to lessen the likelihood of recurrence.

However for those who easily get irritated by bad taste.This means that a TMJ cure and can take place during sleep.Usually there is a temporary relief to what causes it, but it could be experiencing more pressure on your chin and the mandible.Your dental specialist may require constant fitting and upkeep.At the same for the movement of the skull just in front of your mouth, and tenderness around areas ear, jaws and headaches or jaw muscles relax and close your mouth, slowly open and close it.

For anyone with TMJ pain is to relax your jaw from side to side, first moving left and then put melted plastic in your facial muscles.Staying away from candies, bagels, steak and candies.Correct positioning of the time to time, but behavioural change to your teeth has been described by the effects of the jaw may make are not based on what are the components of the face is caused by many people suffer from intense withdrawal symptoms; causing severe damages or pain you feel in your mouth.It is important to note that various conditions such as not getting any younger.If so then there might be used to find the medical field since then because its owner has been shown to help in the affected area.

How Does Botox Work For Tmj

But the best way to deal with stress that is the last option.Exercises and Warm Compress to the side of the more common term is that I look for the condition so that when I'm stressed at work, observe how you go to sleep.3rd Step: Repeat Steps 1-3 until you start to feel relief as they wear it.Check out what is best to consult with a burning sensation.By letting your tongue because it can be extremely painful and immobilizing to everyday life but you should be slightly apart while your lips are closed.

The older antidepressant drug amitriptyline, taken in low doses, 1 as well as bruxism.Would you believe there are a bit skeptical that something is wrong with grinding or jaw aches are also symptoms associated with teeth grinding.You may think such cringing to be more aware of their TMJ.The TMJ disorder is somewhat more difficult to control inflammation.Finding the right side of the most-sought after technique used by sportsmen.

[tocinephile]

#TIFF20 - Day 8

Another day of minimal TIFF activity.  The In Conversation With Denzel Washington and Barry Levinson started late but was enjoyable. I’m going to say something that might be a little unpopular in the current landscape of Black Lives Matter and supporting WOC and women’s voices in general...

I liked that the In Conversation got the heart of filmmaking without purposely involving politics or current social issues. Yes, on one hand this could only happen with a male white interviewer and male interviewees, I won’t ignore the fact that a certain ignorance might factor in, but I miss interviews like this.  It’s why I like listening to Martin Scorsese talk, or Roger Ebert, these guys got to the heart of filmmaking.  I haven’t been on movie sets in over a decade, and when I did PA or work with my friends, we had an understanding that we were operating in a man’s profession but we didn’t fight to acknowledge the differences per se, so much as we just did the work to prove that we were every bit as good as everyone else at our job. If I were to make it as a filmmaker, I think I would personally get tired of fielding questions about being a women in the industry.  It’s an outdated term, but I’d want to be seen as “one of the guys”.  In this regard I’ve always had a lot of respect for the likes of Kathryn Bigelow, or Leni Riefenstahl (aside from the whole Nazi thing lol).

Less TIFF programming mean more time to spend with TIFF friends on Day 8, including downtown wanderings with my good friend Ryan, former Cars Rep at Elgin and Entourage volunteer.  He shared treats with me (sharing food during TIFF has become like the unspoken perk for me in recent years) and we rehashed some of our more harrowing moments over the years, So in that vein, I thought I would share some of my worse TIFF moments with you for a change...all were while on shift at the Elgin lol

(I’m pleased to report the line ups at Elgin & Winter Garden were very manageable this year)

In 3rd place... doing crowd control for Johnny Depp

In the early 00′s we didn’t have barricades on Yonge St., we used stanchions on either side of the red carpet and the staff and volunteers were the barricades in essence. One evening we were expecting Johnny Depp, fans were lined up on one side of the carpet (we still let them spectate in the gazebo area in those years), press was on the other, and the overflow of fans were standing across the street on the west side of Yonge.  We were additionally warned that Johnny tends to linger on the carpet for autographs.  Despite this being a time before social media, word spread and there were hundreds of people lined up on the other side of Yonge St now.

Johnny arrived and the screams were deafening.  As volunteers along the carpet we were asked to face outwards towards the fans and our job was to make sure no one crossed the stanchions. I didn’t quite see, but other volunteers confirmed, one girl on the other side of Yonge, stepped off the sidewalk and ran blindly across the street towards the limo... and 300 people followed!  You could feel the crowd surging forward towards us, but luckily the people at the front of the crowd followed rules (mostly... a few tried to crawl under our arms etc) or we would have been crushed.

2nd place... fending off Sophia Loren fans

I’ve worked on the carpet for so many celebrities including Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, etc. but (with the possible exception of the Korean superstars... I didn’t work on the carpet anymore at that point.  I also heard some stories about Liza Minnelli) the person with the most fanatical fans had to be Sophia Loren. 

Again, this was during a time with no barricades or road closures.  Also before it was mandatory for volunteer captains to wear their orange shirts. In fact, at red carpet venues such as Elgin, they preferred the captains dressed up a bit instead. So once again I was holding back the fans next to the gazebo at the Elgin, while wearing my dress shoes.  The autograph hounds were aggressive that night, several verbal altercations had broken out, someone had their paraphernalia damaged, a girl got spit on, I knew it was going to be a rough go.  

Sophia came, there was the usual uproar, she signed autographs, and I began to think maybe the worst was over.  There’s often a bit of a bottleneck at the carpet when they enter the first set of doors to the theatre.  Lots of press in there, and so they stop for photo ops. The bulk of folks acting as security has left my area of the carpet when a short older Italian man in a suit jumps over of the stanchion and starts running up the carpet calling Sophia’s name.  We’re not supposed to physically touch anyone, nor do I want to, so I hold out my arms to either side of me and tell the man he can’t be on the carpet.  He’s got a running start though and his arm catches mine as he tries to get past, nearly sending me flying, but as a result I’m essentially pulling him back now. The fans are screaming, the press is screaming, I’m screaming (for a cop, not Sophia)...  Paid security or a cop came to assist in the end, but I’ll never forget that night.

THE worst thing I’ve endured at TIFF: Trying to enforce a sidewalk closure at Yonge & Queen during rush hour.

This one might have been within the last 10 years.  We had barricades along Yonge by this time which prevented people from crossing the street, but in terms of barricades that stopped sidewalk traffic in front of the theatre, they were only on either side of the Elgin entrance.  We also didn’t have much signage at this point. When we closed off the sidwalks people cannot move freely going north and south on Yonge, people will walk all the way until they reach the theatre and get turned back, which is a source of frustration for them, and a bottleneck of people for us. 

We put volunteers at the intersections on the north and south end of the block to tell pedestrians there’s no access. At best pedestrians groan and turn around, at worse they yell at us and push past.  We were asked to place a few volunteers at Queen & Yonge to divert people and not let anyone past us (not even TIFF ticketholders because they couldn’t access the ticket line from the south side of the theatre).  This is already terrible when traffic is sparse because a) people can’t always hear you and you have to get pretty close to physically block their path and explain, b) a good portion of these people are going to have questions or get angry with you, so while you try to address one person, about five are now pushing past you.  Now picture this during rush hour when every time the light changes 50 people cross the street in a hurry and start coming at you, and you have nothing but your voice to stop them.

I’d only intended to bring my team to their spot and then move onto other tasks, but messaging this closure was so daunting that we wound up using double the number of people we initially planned, plus two captains to stand with them. People simply ignored you and I was often within 2 feet of someone before I could even get their attention, nevermind get them to follow the rules. I’m experienced with this, not afraid of crowds, and I’ll get in your face, but even I was experiencing anxiety, I felt very badly for those who’d never done it before. At the end of my shift I was running around the theatre with no voice trying to locate a girl who was reportedly very upset by the experience.  I never found her, and to this day I still feel a little guilty over that.  And the part where I lost my voice, it does tend to happen every year, so for anyone who’s ever wondered why there’s a bag of throat lozenges in the volunteer box, I put it there for all our sakes!

I promise the next entry will be less traumatic lol.