#me doing exercise this early in the morning??? unheard of

[pxrplepolkadots]

😞

[ticklystuff]

Day 6: Cuddles (Ten more minutes with xiangsheng)

a/n: ler!childe, lee!zhongli — from the augtickletober2024 list!

———

Sunlight poured through the curtains, washing over the overly cuddly duo, their bodies not only heavily mixed in with the sheets, but themselves, an amalgamation of limbs and pieces unrecognizable at first glance. And the first to stir fluttered his eyes, acclimating to the soft glow of sun presiding over the room, allowing its embrace to roll across his skin. With a groan, Zhongli breathed a heavy sigh, ready to wipe the sleep from his eyes, only to realize his arms were locked in place, squished to his body by.. a different kind of embrace.

"Uhhg, hah... Ajax," came the low grumble, a stark difference from the composed voice he wielded so well. The other was gripping him so tightly, his chest practically glued to Zhongli's back, arms wrapped as if Zhongli was in danger of rolling off the bed. Zhongli could feel the steady exhales tickling the back of his neck, prompting him to shift his head, though this didn't alleviate the issue.

"Ajax," Zhongli called softly, yet still no response. He himself was an early riser, but Ajax was something else, often rising before the crack of dawn to get his daily exercise in. If Zhongli managed to step out of bed before he could return, a piping cup of ginger tea would be awaiting his return, but if Ajax made it back first, Zhongli could expect to be greeted with a hearty breakfast. It was very unlike the other to still be in bed at this hour and Zhongli started to worry if he might be ill.

In an attempt to free himself, Zhongli gave a little push to his arms, exerting force against Ajax's own, only for the opposing arms to constrict Zhongli's body in tighter embrace, pushing back against Zhongli's arms.

So he was awake.

"Ajax," this time with his usual tone. There was no doubt the ginger could hear him now.

"Mmmmm.."

"Come now, let's not waste the morning."

"You came home late.."

So that's what this was about. It wasn't as if it was planned; long nights at the funeral parlor were sparse, but not unheard of. And to reward themselves a day's hard work, per Director Hu's recommendation, the two went took to Third-Round Knockout for the night, drinking through the late hours as Zhongli listened to his boss with his nonsensical rambling. Upon arriving home, a lukewarm bowl of soup was left for him on the counter and Childe was already passed out in the bedroom, body sprawled out over the mattress, to which Zhongli took to tucking himself under his arm when he too was ready to retire for the night.

And now, he found himself caught in between both arms.

"Sorry, Ajax," Zhongli craned his neck in an attempt to face the other. He'd pat the ruffled mess of hair.. if only he had control of his arms. "Had to stay out late last night."

No response.

"Perhaps," Zhongli drew out, mentally thumbing through solutions to appeal to the moody ginger, "we can walk to the farmers' market together?" Yeah, that should work. Ajax loved the farmers' market, always finding himself excited over the constant array of new things he'd find, or different ingredients he could use to cook with, and Zhongli loved watching him. It'd be a good time.

There was a shift in the sheets and a low whine from behind Zhongli and for a brief moment, Zhongli figured his offer might've worked.

"Ten more minutes."

Zhongli wasn't quite sure how to feel about this; five minutes would've been acceptable, but ten? A bit excessive in his book.

"How about five?" he bargained.

"Mm-mm," Zhongli could make out the sound of him shaking his head. "Ten."

"Ajax.." Zhongli knew this game. Ten minutes he'd push for, which would then become fifteen, then twenty.. Zhongli wasn't falling for it.

He opened his mouth to push back, but a sudden sensation stopped him in his tracks, caught in his throat to produce a mishap mixture of a grunt and a gasp.

And then a second kiss. "Do you not like me anymore, xiansheng? Is that why you didn't come home last night? Why you want to leave me now too?"

And then a third and fourth kiss. "N-Nohoho," was all he could utter, gaspy giggles spilling out as he attempted to scrunch his neck, feeling Ajax's lips meander against his skin.

Fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth. "Or maybe you're seeing someone else, hm? Another harbinger? Is it because I'm only number eleven? Who is it? Dottore, Scaramouche, Capitano?"

This made no sense; he didn't even know of these people or their existence, but Zhongli could barely argue back, Childe's fingers now pressing into his stomach and sides, forcing Zhongli to curl up and attempt a fetal position, only for Ajax's legs to now wrap around his own.

"Or is it a normal civilian? That would make it easy for me," Childe giggled with mischief. "I could stop them from seeing you— snap their arms, maim their legs, maybe even use them as a snack for my old friend, Osial."

"NahaHAHAhaha, Ajahahax! Okay, okahahahay!" The combination of rather morbid humor and tickling, both from Ajax's fingers and kisses, were enough to finally create an outburst of laughter and Zhongli wiggled around as much as he could, but the ginger had made his stance clear— they weren't leaving this bed.

"So, ten minutes?" Ajax had quit with the tickling this time, choosing to nuzzle his nose into the side of Zhongli's neck instead.

The cheek. "Alright, alright, ten more minutes."

"Can we make it fifteen?

"Ajax.."

"Okay, xiansheng, ten more minutes."

[rotationalsymmetry]

More about CFS/ME!

There is an incredibly wide and diverse set of symptoms that can come with it -- I got shortness of breath, which is not common but not unheard of, and didn't get chronic pain which is very common -- and degrees of severity. Some people with CFS/ME can work full time office jobs and engage in some degree of "normal" exercise. Some people can't get out of bed even to use the toilet. Lots of people are somewhere in between.

When people have CFS/ME and haven't figured out pacing yet, symptoms can vary DRAMATICALLY from day to day and within a day, eg going from feeling pretty normal to feeling like you've got a bad flu (muscle aches, generally feeling horrible, want to sleep for hours) in a very short period of time. Sometimes even the other way, going from feeling absolutely horrible to feeling more or less fine in a matter of hours during the same day.

This is a lie. You are not fine. You're overdrawing your energy bank account and the overdraft fees will catch up to you.

When I learned about pacing (well, people lump like seven different concepts under the word pacing, when I learned how to stay in my energy envelope) my symptoms evened out dramatically and I rarely have to cancel events that I really want to go to at the last minute any more (although I do often cancel lower priority things.) But there's a high cost, which is that I constantly do less than I feel like I can do. (And even so, I often do a little bit more than I can do and then the overdraft fees catch up and I realiize "Oh, I couldn't afford that after all, I guess.)

Sometimes triggering PEM is worth it, for special occasions, but you can't do it all the time without fucking up your life.

The imposter syndrome/"am I just faking it?" can be intense. Tracking activity and symptoms on paper (or on a phone/computer) can help with that. Memory is unreliable, writing it down is better.

There were a lot of things about how my illness worked that I couldn't notice until I started staying within my envelope. I didn't think I had a better or worse time of day, because my really bad periods were all over the place, but once I stopped having really bad periods all the time my body settled into a routine where it tolerates afternoon/evening exertion much better than morning exertion. (For some people it's the other way around.) For another thing, I wasn't able to recognize when I had a big response to something that happened a day or two before, until I stopped getting wild swings in my symptoms and ability to tolerate activity.

I also noticed that if I haven't overextended/crashed in a while (like months), I seem to develop a sort of buffer against crashing and I won't crash from things that have caused me to crash in the past. This does not mean those things are safe or that I'm "better", it means I have a buffer that I'm gong through. If I keep trying to do those sorts of things, I will crash.

I get early warning signs but they are subtle. Things like feeling a little bit more tired or unmotivated than usual. If I pay attention to those I can often avoid bigger signs; if I don't I get clearer warning signs and eventually crash. ("crash" = sudden, abrupt, long-lasting reduction in apparent energy/ability to tolerate activity, plus more symptoms like brain fog. Brain fog = any cognitive difficulty, can feel like wading through soup only with your mind, can be having slightly more difficulty remembering words or where you put things, can be becoming unable to talk.)

It's not only physical exertion! That's a big one, but stress/emotional distress also costs spoons, social events and phone calls and overstimulation (like loud noises or bright or flashing lights) cost spoons, sometimes cognitive effort (that isn't related to things like making conversation and reading body language, like checking emails or studying or doing meal planning) costs spoons.

Please be aware that pacing is treatment does NOT mean you will get all the way better. You might, it's possible, bt it's more common to just experience what I'm talking about here, an evening out of symptoms, lack of the more extreme and unpleasant symptoms, more reliability. It doesn't mean you are eg definitely going to be able to go back to school or work, or do things you did before getting sick.

It is both worth doing imo and also not something that you should try to force on anyone who doesn't want to do it; everyone's got their own health vs quality of life analysis and some would rather not pace and they get to do that.

Something that made a huge change in my quality of life before pacing was figuring out how to do things I wanted to do differently. Bringing a light folding stool with me so I could sit down while waiting in line. Figuring out how to wash dishes while sitting down. Doing games in chunks with breaks rather than all at once. (OK, technically that is pacing, but this is what I mean by pacing having more than one meaning. To me, "breaking up what you want to do into small pieces and not doing it all at once" and "not doing things that aren't in your energy budget" are actually completely different concepts and the second one did way more for me than the first and is generally what I mean when I say pacing.)

more info, and success stories, at cfs self help dot org -- not putting the link in because I don't want this hidden in replies. The site has an image of a thin white woman sitting cross legged looking beatific on the front page, which I realize has Associations, but it's actually a really good evidence-based peer-support site that is not trying to sell you supplements or whatever. It is fairly recovery-oriented -- with a definition broad enough to include "some improvement", not just "back to full health -- which I realized after a while isn't really doing it for me any more, but which I very much wanted to hear when I was newly sick and in fact I did make substantial improvements in the first year-ish, which I was able to retain since. It does also run fairly privileged, probably fairly white, older, and almost all cishet women. Up to you how much you want to interact with other people vs not; there's social media groups that are good for finding people who have chronic illnesses and are also queer or otherwise marginalized in whatever ways you are.

Please ask me questions if you think you might have or definitely have ME, or know someone who does. You would be doing me a great favor. I did not get as much help as I wanted in the first 4-5 months of being unambiguously sick -- I didn't get any help worth mentioning from doctors in that time at all, apart from ruling out a variety of conditions (not their fault really, you can't tell patients what you don't know yourself) -- and I feel really driven to right that wrong in other people's lives if I can at all. Becoming newly disabled, or getting a new extra disability, or having been disabled for a while but not knowing what's going on or what to do about it, are all terrifying and isolating experiences and often the best help comes from other people who are, or were, in the same boat.

And, just so you know, even if the disease doesn't get that much better (and it might), how you feel about it and how you arrange your life to prioritize the things that bring you joy and satisfaction, that can get way better.

Hey if you're struggling with a lot of fatigue and you feel physically worse after activities that feel like exertion, ESPECIALLY if you develop flu like symptoms within one or two days of overdoing it, I am begging you to look at the international consensus criteria for myalgic encephalomyelitis, or ME/CFS.

Like if this is you:

1. Marked, rapid physical and/or cognitive fatigability in response to exertion, which may be minimal such as activities of daily living or simple mental tasks, can be debilitating and cause a relapse. 2. Postexertional symptom exacerbation:e.g.acute flu-like symptoms, pain and worsening of other symptoms. 3.Postexertional exhaustion may occur immediately after activity or be delayed by hours or days.   4. Recovery period is prolonged, usually taking 24 h or longer. A relapse can last days, weeks or longer.   5. Low threshold of physical and mental fatigability (lack of stamina) results in a substantial reduction in pre-illness activity level.

Please read these criteria and try to figure out if you have M.E.: https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/j.1365-2796.2011.02428.x#t1

[from-a-reckless-writer]

here lads have an angsty supercorp soulmate story

It starts exactly 24 hours after Kara’s departure. 

It’s subtle at first. It actually reminds Lena of the first few days after they met. 

The slow but steady build-up of pain manifesting itself into little things; shaky hands, dizzy spells, chest pains. The pills help, of course. She’s already ingested 5 pills in the span of 3 hours and she’s contemplating taking more. Just to keep the pain—threatening to overtake her—at bay. But what good would she be if Alex finds her passed out on the floor? Veins chock-full of narcotics? 

So, she wills her hands to stop shaking and pushes on. She sends a text to Jess to send a shipment of pills to her home address; tells her to be discreet. 

She can do it. She’s done it before. She can fucking do it again. And she will bring Kara home. 

Because every moment that passes with them apart, means a step closer to Lena’s death. 

You might think she’s exaggerating, but really she isn’t. See, Kara’s her soul mate, not just in the figure of speech wax-poetic sense but literally Kara’s her soul mate. 

But her being a Luthor of course, soul mates wouldn’t come easy. None of it had ever been easy. Why would this one be an exception? It wasn’t unheard of, no, there were a few rare cases of it being recorded. Of course, Lena would be one of those people. Why wouldn’t the universe add shitty soul mate luck into the long list of misfortunes in Lena’s life? What’s one more curse, right? 

See, Kara’s her soul mate but...Lena isn’t Kara’s.

“You look like shit, Luthor. You’re allowed to take a break you know?” 

It’s Alex who breaks her out of her reverie. She prays to God that Alex doesn't notice her shaking hands. She’s well aware she looks like shit. She feels like shit, she doesn’t need Alex of all people to point that one out. But now, Lena notices that the whole place is empty, she didn’t even notice J’onn slip out. She didn’t even notice Alex coming in too, really. 

Brainy had long passed-out in one of the beds in the MedBay in the 2nd level of The Tower, Nia taking up the opposite bed. There was a brief moment when she walked in that made her feel tempted to occupy the third bed and take a break. But then, her chest tightened and a flare of pain lit up her whole insides, it was reason enough to keep her feet moving and back unto the computers trying to pinpoint Kara’s location. 

“I know,” she replies, “But it’s really not necessary, Alex. I’ll rest after.” 

She doesn’t need rest, what she needs is Kara to be here. 

She refuses to look at Alex, fingers flying across the screen. Alex shifts closer to her, lays a hand on her right arm prompting her to stop. Her eyes land on Alex's hand and continue up to Alex’s eyes. 

“We’ll find her, Lena. But you have to rest. I’m serious, Luthor. Come on,” Alex persists, wrapping her hand more firmly and tugging at Lena to follow her. 

She doesn’t say that rest will do her more harm than good. She doesn’t say that if she closes her eyes all she would see is Kara’s body floating all alone in space and the pain would start anew.

First, her chest and then travelling up the rest of her body until all there is is pain. 

She doesn’t say that she needs to work in order to distract her from the pain. 

Instead, she holds her tongue, lets Alex bring her to the 2nd level and tries to have the most fitful sleep of her life. 

***

It gets worse on the 5th day of the second week. It really isn’t a surprise considering this is the longest she’s had to go without Kara around. 

She’s taken mega-doses of painkillers in anticipation for today. Last night was a nightmare, she had to bite down on a hand towel as waves of pain assaulted her, again and again and again.

When morning came, it slowly subsided. Once feeling had returned to her legs she ran into the kitchen and swallowed 3 pills immediately. 

It doesn’t matter if she’s taken 3 or 4 or a whole bottle today, because it will just get worse and worse the longer Kara isn’t by her side. 

And so, she drags herself into The Tower again, because she needs to finally find a way to bring her back. 

She tries to ignore the tightening of her chest even though she’s really having a hard time breathing now. Not to mention the pain behind her eyes that is bit by bit making it difficult for her to coordinate with Brainy’s computations. 

She’s taken to keeping a bottle of pills on her person now. Opting to take them dry as if they were mint candies to keep her tongue moving while programming lines of codes. 

She thinks she’s still being subtle. 

Well, she is.

Until she isn’t. 

She crumples to the floor in front of everyone and a guttural scream of pain breaks free from her lips. 

***

When she wakes it’s to Alex sitting by her bedside. 

She lets out a groan in response to the sore feeling of her entire body. It’s like the time they were forced to do team building exercises all day in Mt. Helena and Lena nearly passed out. 

Alex hands her a bottle of water. She sips greedily before handing it back and wiping her mouth. 

“Hey? How you feeling?”

“Like I wanna die.”

Alex sighs and Lena intentionally avoids her eyes. 

“It’s Kara isn’t it?” Alex says and Lena doesn’t bother with lying anymore.

“It is.”

“How you survived almost two weeks away from her, I wouldn’t know. Two days away from Kelly—” Alex breaks off, inhales deeply and then sighs again, “That’s already torture for me.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” She retorts flatly, hands fiddling with the rough edges of the blanket. Alex looks like she wants to say something about that but Lena beats her there. 

“How?” She asks, gesturing to the IV drip. How am I not feeling pain right now? How am I still breathing? How am I still alive?

“The DEO created a special fluid for agents,” Alex reveals, “They distribute it to agents on field assignments. That way, them and their partners don’t die from pain. Good thing, J’onn had a stash hidden here, well, we always thought it would be for me and Kelly. Never expected you, Luthor.”

Lena takes that in for a moment. So, the DEO had a special formula of Dextrose to stave off the pain of soulmate separation and apparently she’s using up all the remaining bags of it. 

And it’s not even supposed to be for her. 

“Don’t worry about it. Brainy can replicate the formula.”

Worry must’ve shown on her face. So, she works on schooling her features again, she knows that Alex is itching to ask her questions but is trying to be polite. 

There’s really no use hiding anything now though. 

“K-Kara’s my soulmate,” she finally says out loud, and she’s always thought that it’s supposed to feel cathartic and freeing but instead it just feels heavy. 

“But I’m not hers,” she quickly finishes, better to rip the band-aid off. She briefly looks at Alex, whose face doesn’t give her anything; mouth a tight line and eyes shining with curiosity. 

She doesn’t know if Alex had ever had a conversation with Kara about soul mates before. Had they talked about it? Had Kara ever mentioned Lena acting too clingy whenever they don’t see each other for a short period of time? Had Kara ever told Alex if she would want a soul mate of her own?

But the look and silence from Alex’s side makes Lena refrain from asking. 

Instead, she starts to tell her how it had hit her the instant Kara walked in her office. How there was a zing! and her brain had immediately screamed HER. That’s the one. She’s the one. 

How when they met eyes and Kara had told her her name it felt like Lena’s soul finally found her home. 

“I asked for her name and I kind of thought she’d wait for me to get out of the office,” Lena trails off and Alex takes it for what it is. 

Their first meeting was all sparks for Lena but then, the conversation kept going and going and Clark had tried interrogating her and Kara didn’t do anything. 

Didn’t approach her afterwards, didn’t show any reaction that might’ve given Lena a clue that she felt the way Lena did. 

A conclusion was easily reached. 

Kara was hers but she wasn’t Kara’s. 

After the initial shock settled in, Lena set to work. Because that was what she did best. Work out a solution to everything and anything that poses a problem. 

How many people have dreamed about meeting their soul mate? How many years had Lena sat there hoping that tomorrow maybe, maybe she’ll finally meet them? She never expected this, never expected her soul to find a home that isn’t hers. 

Staying away from Kara was a non-starter, it’s only been a day since they parted but Lena can already feel the beginnings of pain. Slow but sharp shots of throbbing from behind her eyes then came the shaky hands then the dizziness and then— 

They became friends and Lena made sure Kara didn’t know anything about her growing need to be close to her; didn't let Kara know about the fact that the universe made Lena its most epic punchline yet. 

She agreed to scheduled game nights and movie nights and lunch dates. She never knew the pain of soulmate separation during those early days. Kara was always around; bringing her a salad, covering an L-Corp gala, crashing on Lena’s couch. 

“It was easy, you know? Kara was always there. What are friends for?” Lena mimics Kara and then repeats somberly, “It was easy, Alex.”

Or at least, Lena kept telling herself it was easy. She had it easy. She didn’t have to think about painkiller pills or cutting her business trips short—because the pain becomes unbearable too soon—like so many of her board members do. 

She had it easy with Kara, she can just call and she’ll be there. 

Until, Kara started going MIA. And for three days pain overtook her entire life. The pain made her unable to think clearly, the pills kicking in at the last minute. 

“You haven't been around. Supergirl's been there for me. Person who judges me on the very premise of my last name, but my best friend hasn't,” she accuses because Goddamnit Kara has no idea what kind of shit Lena had to endure with her going away with no warning. 

Logically, Lena knows it’s partly her fault. 

She knows that if she only just told Kara that she needs her to live, Kara would stay. But she doesn’t want anything to change. 

Of course, Kara would stay, it was the kind of thing a person like her would do. 

Kara would take care of her, whatever Lena needed she would give. 

But Lena didn’t want things that way. 

She wants Kara to want her the same way she wants her. 

But no, Lena’s not going to tell her that. She is never going to know. She will find an alternative. So, she injects as much venom as she can into that accusation, “B-but maybe it’s better if I leave.” 

She makes Kara leave. 

She just got her cure back and immediately Lena had pushed her away. The moment Kara stepped out of the door, a dull throb already kicked in her chest; as if telling Lena she was making a big mistake. 

She regretted that night so much, Jess had to drag her drunken body out of her office. 

Then it became normal again and Lena went back to not worrying about body pains again. 

Because a different kind of pain is trying to make itself known. 

A gaping hole in her heart that is entirely unrelated to the biological consequences of being separated from your soul mate. 

She was falling in love. 

She was falling in love and she wasn’t prepared for how it would hurt to have Kara not love her back. She can endure the physical pain, there are pills for that. 

But there wasn’t any type of medication to see your other half everyday and not have them see you as theirs. 

When Lex told her Kara’s secret. Something broke inside of her. Which was saying something, considering she was getting her heart broken every single day that Kara wouldn’t look her way. 

But to know how stupid she’s been? To realize that the flutter of her heart whenever Supergirl was near was her brain telling her it was Kara? 

There was no word for that. 

“I think, I kept rejecting the idea of Supergirl being Kara you know?” Lena huffs out, laughs drily, “Imagine how fucking painful it would be, Alex, if Supergirl was my soul mate. This person who didn’t trust me wholly, who lies behind my back, imagine if she was my soul mate? It would have felt humiliating. My body knew better, though,” she admitted sadly. 

“When Lex told me, all the little painful outbursts every time Supergirl flew away? It made sense. Everything made sense, but at the same time? Everything hurt too.”

She tried hurting her back. Created Hope. Experimented with Q-waves. Foolishly used Myriad. Teamed up with Lex.

But even through all of those? The separation pain never knocked her out. 

Even when they were fighting, Kara was still always around. Even when the world—the fucking multiverse got reset. The pain wasn’t enough to knock her out. Not like today. 

Because Kara was always lingering around convincing her not to join Lex, crossing paths in CatCo, flying into her home even if it was to call her a villain. 

All of those interactions were still sustenance for Lena. 

But this? This separation? This knowledge that Kara was somewhere out there, unreachable. That she could be lightyears away in space and it has been two weeks since Lena had last saw her, it has her every molecule shouting to go find Kara. 

“It’s never been like this before,” Lena confesses, “I thought I could do it without-”

“Help?” Alex supplies and Lena finally turns to her and she feels a hand squeeze her. 

“Yeah.” She mutters back softly. 

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Luthor. You’re part of the team now whether you like it or not. We are going to help you, we’re going to find a temporary solution for that pain and then we’ll get back to work and we’ll find Kara.”

[drarrily-we-row-along]

hello, excuse me if this makes you uncomfortable but my birthday is September 14 and I have very few friends and therefore I did not receive congratulations or gifts, could I please ask for something with drarry and scorbus? something like Harry and his children living in the manor anda Lucius and Narcissa still alive, I know it's out of your comfort zone and if you can't or don't want to then sorry for the inconvenience🥺😖

Scorbus

Hello friends, First thing- Happy birthday to the nonnie who requested this. Second thing- Yes! For your birthday and for the other lovelies who have requested Scorbus, I will write one (1) Scorbus fic. I will do my best but I've got to be honest- I don't have any real feelings about Scorbus (I don't read much of it and didn't enjoy The Cursed Child). So we'll have to see how it turns out.

cw: talks about hospice care and future death (not of a main character- we're talking about Lucius, no death will take place in the fic) without further ado, here's the best take I can give you. <3

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

"But Daaad," Albus whined, "I don't want to go!"

"I know, bud," Harry replied, instantly regretting calling his 15-year-old 'bud', as he helped Lily find her bag.

James came in and flopped on Albus' bed, "It's just because he-"

"Shut up!" Albus shrieked, pouncing on him and smothering him with a pillow.

"Boys-" Harry started even as the boys started screaming and wrestling and Lily started to cry about not being able to find something. "Enough!" he shouted, casting a shield charm between the boys. "All of you," he said, "Let's just take a breath."

"But-" multiple voices rang out.

"No buts," he interrupted. "Deep breaths. Right now."

(Read more below the cut)

Everyone glared at him but at least they stopped talking.

"Okay," he said, "James, please stop intentionally trying to bother your brother."

Albus stuck his tongue out at him.

"Al, please finish packing. Lily, your straightener is in the bathroom under the sink."

They let out a collective groan.

"Look guys," he said. "I know. I know it's hard when I have to go to work. I know being in a house where someone is about to die is difficult. But Draco is a good friend and if I can help Lucius pass on, I need to do it. Okay?"

All of his children nodded sullenly.

"Besides," he added, "The manor is huge. You won't even have to see Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. And," he said, smiling at Albus, "Scorpius will be there. I'm sure he'll be glad to have a friend, yeah?"

Albus rolled his eyes and just muttered, "Can you get out so I can pack, please?"

With a sigh, Harry nodded and left, thinking for the thousandth time that single parenting was really fucking hard.

---------

He hadn't expected this to be his life. Harry had expected that he'd join the aurors or that he'd go on to be a quidditch player.

Working as a hospice care healer had never been in the plans. But there was no denying that he was good at it; he wasn't grossed out by all of the ways that bodies failed as a person began the process of dying. He didn't mind the late nights and early mornings. He actually usually enjoyed listening to stories from his patient as they reflected on their lives. And death didn't bother him. He'd spent nearly twenty years in this profession, he was good at his job, and he liked it.

Still, as he stood looking at the Manor, nerves that he hadn't felt in years settled in. He couldn't be sure if it was because the Manor still gave him the creeps all these years later, if it was because it was Lucius Malfoy and they'd never had the best of relationships, if it was because he was anxious about how Draco would handle his father's death, or something else entirely.

"Let's go," Albus snapped, impatient and anxious.

He nodded once and stepped up onto the top step and rang the door bell.

Draco opened the door, looking exhausted.

"Hey," Harry said softly, aching to hold him, to take him into his arms and hide him away from the rest of the world and all that was happening to him.

But they didn't do that. Not in public, not where anyone could see them including their families. Maybe especially their families. "Hi," Draco replied and Harry knew he was wishing for the same thing. "Thanks for coming."

"Of course," he said because there hadn't really ever been a choice. He loved Draco and he would do anything that would help make this easier. "Let me just get these guys settled in and I'll check in with your dad, okay?"

He nodded, "I have you guys set up in the West wing," he said as he started inside, "I know this is probably not the way you were hoping to spend your summer hols-" Draco started.

"It's okay," Lily said, falling into step beside Draco. "I'm sorry about your dad," she added.

"Thank you," he replied.

And Harry smiled, if nothing else, he and Ginny still agreed it was important to raise their kids to practice kindness.

-----------

It was a long day. The first day at a new job almost always was, lots of intake paperwork, lots of working to make sure they had all their doses right in order to keep their patient comfortable, and inevitably lots of input from the patient's family.

By the time Harry had gotten everything set up and diagnostic spells and alerts in place, Lucius was sleeping comfortably in the hospice bed, Narcissa on the cot beside him.

Only Draco remained awake, watching Harry work from the sofa in the corner.

When he finished he nodded to the door and Draco followed him out. "You okay?" he asked softly once the door closed.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" he whispered.

"Yeah, love," he replied, giving Draco's hand a quick squeeze. "Of course."

Draco nodded once and led the way through the halls to a different wing entirely. He opened the last door on the left and let Harry in first.

Harry looked around curiously. He'd obviously seen Draco's room in his own home but not the room he occupied when he stayed at the Manor.

"It's actually not the room I stayed in as a child," Draco informed him as he made his way to the drawers to pull out two pairs of pajamas. "It gave me nightmares," he said, "after everything in this awful house."

He hummed, "It must be hard," he said gently, slipping into the comfortable clothes Draco had tossed him. "A lot of trauma wrapped up in an already challenging event." He folded down the covers and climbed in, making a space for Draco so he could curl up in front of him.

"Harry?" he asked once he'd settled back against him and pulled Harry's arm snug around his waist.

He hummed, pressing a kiss to the smooth, soft skin of Draco's neck.

"Do you think you might want to tell our families about us?"

Harry froze, "Do you think you might want to tell our families?" he asked.

"I asked first."

"Personally," Harry said, "Yes. I would like that. I don't like keeping things from my kids and you're," he swallowed. It was silly to be nervous, he'd said this before, but he couldn't help the surge of adrenaline. "I love you, Draco. You're important to me. But the real question is do you want to tell them? You dad-"

"My father is a bigoted arse," he snapped. "And yes he is dying but Harry you make me so happy and I just," he sighed. "I don't want to keep it a secret anymore. If he hates it, he hates it but I don't want him to go from this life thinking that he got to control mine."

Harry didn't quite know what to say.

"I'm awful. I know. I-"

"Draco," he said, squeezing him a little tighter, "I wasn't judging you. I don't think you're awful. Grief and death affect us all differently. If that's what you want, let's do it."

"Let's tell our kids first."

--------

Harry called a family meeting the next day after he'd check on Lucius and they'd done a bit of exercise and gone for a walk.

In retrospect, this might not have been the best thing to call it. Family meeting had never had the best associations and the last one they'd had was to tell the kids that he and Ginny were getting a divorce.

His kids were cagey, Scorpius was withdrawn, and Draco was honestly a bit erratic.

"Okay," he said, smiling at the room, only Lily smiled back. "So we," he said pointing back and forth between him and Draco, "have some news."

"Oh Salazar, please no," Albus whispered.

Harry gave him the look the one every parent had perfected by the time their child was three. "It's good news," Harry said.

"We're together," Draco blurted.

James barely looked up from his book as he said, "Called it."

Lily said "Like together-together?"

And Albus promptly burst into tears, fleeing the room.

"Albus!" Scorpius shouted, jumping up and chasing after him.

Harry and Draco looked at each other. "Maybe he thought that Ginny and I would get back together someday?"

James rolled his eyes, "That's not it. He and Scorpius are like," he waved a careless hand, "a thing."

Draco's eyes widened.

"Oh," Harry said. "And no one could have said something about this before?"

James shrugged, turning the page, "I tried to say something yesterday and you told me to shut up."

"I did not use those words," Harry said.

"Yeah, but that's what you meant."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, he was careful about his words, never wanting his kids to feel like they were unloved and unheard.

"It's fine, dad," James said, waving him off, "You should talk to Albus."

He was right, they really did need to talk to Albus and Scorpius.

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

When they found them, Al and Scorpius were sitting together on one of the swings and Al was still crying.

"Alright," Harry said, transfiguring a couple of sticks into chairs. "Let's talk about this."

"You're the worst," Albus shouted at him. "It's like you're intentionally trying to ruin my life without even knowing you're doing it."

It took everything in Harry not to point out the fallacy in that logic. Draco, too, if the sharp intake of breath was anything to go by. "Could you tell me more about why you feel that way?" Harry asked, gently squeezing Draco's thigh.

"Because he thinks you're going to ask us to break up," Scorpius said, biting his bottom lip.

"And even if you don't, everyone's going to think it's weird," Albus said, a hiccoughing sob escaping.

"Think what's weird?" Draco asked.

"If you guys are dating and we're dating," Scorpius said.

Harry nodded, "I think I understand," he said. "But honestly, guys, we're not going to ask you to stop dating and it doesn't really matter what other people think."

"Easy for you to say," Albus sniffled, "You're Harry Potter. Everyone already loves you."

"I agree with you dad," Draco said, "other people's opinions are irrelevant. It's not as though you were raised together or anything like that."

"Well everyone already hates you anyway," Albus snapped, "So why would it matter?"

"Albus," Harry warned, "Apologize."

"No, it's alright," Draco said. "I used to be a lot like you, you know," he said. "I used to really care about what other people thought and how they felt."

"What changed?" Scorpius asked curiously.

"Your mum, actually," he said, with a little smile. "She helped me to look at myself and see who I really was, not the person that people believe me to be. She helped me to recognize that other people didn't define me, I did." He shrugged, "At the end of the day, if I chose to listen to them I was still the one defining myself that way."

"That," Albus started, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, "Makes sense."

"Good," Draco said, nodding once.

Harry squeezed his hand, "Right, well, congratulations, you two. Please be sure if you decide to make things physical you talk to one of us about protection spe-"

"Dad!" Albus shrieked, covering his ears. "Shut up! Shut up! Merlin save me."

Draco laughed, attempting to stifle it with a cough and failing in Harry's opinion.

"I'm just saying," Harry said, holding up his hands in defeat. "We should probably have this conversation at some point."

Albus shook his head and Scorpius had turned as red as a beet.

"Well. I'm off, then. Back to work," Harry replied.

Draco took his hand, "I'll walk you," he offered and they headed back to the house.

"Well," Harry said, once they were a good distance away. "That was unexpected."

"Was it, though?" Draco asked. "The way Scorp talks about Albus," he trailed off. "Well, let's just say he reminded me a little too much of me at that age."

"Had a crush on me that long have you?"

He laughed, "Longer. My father was just too bigoted to take my ramblings for what they really were."

Harry leaned over and pecked his cheek, "Well, I after that, I think that telling your parents will be a piece of cake."

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

See the rest of my drabbles here

[peekbackstage]

Heya Peek, got a question about schedules for you. Not sure if there’s an industry standard for this or if most companies just milk their talents dry. What’s a usual day to day schedule for artists? I understand depending on campaigns/festive seasons there will be crazy weeks packed back to back with plans bleeding into each hour, but are the talents given ample rest? Is there a working limit or do most of them get pushed to do OT? Are they even able to claim days off? I guess all these questions are stemming from my worry for WYB after the recent saesang mobbing 🔥😡 Also with the upcoming event he is in, is it a common practice for that many days of dry-run pre-film practices? (Or its due to the pandemic that they have to stretch it out?)

 Disclaimer: The following is informed by my experience working in the music industry.

Honestly, there isn't really an "industry standard" for artists, because every artist has different schedules, and it can really vary depending on the artist's commitments, whether or not they are touring, if they have film projects, etc.

An artist on tour might have a schedule that involves them waking up and then exercising, arriving at the venue to sound check by 3PM, hair and makeup/styling by 6PM, dinner at 7PM, press between 7PM and 8PM, then show time between 9PM-11PM. If they have a particularly complicated stage, they might want a longer rehearsal, but largely, rehearsal time depends on when the crew can load into the venue. If it's a big enough venue, usually load in happens the day before the show, so the artist can rehearse early in the morning, and then get into hair/makeup, followed by press.

An artist who is not on tour who is actively working on music might show up at a studio at 9AM and work till 9PM if it's a long session - which isn't unheard of. Generally speaking, management companies like to organize an artist's schedule by specific activities if they can help it - i.e. if the artist is recording, then they try to limit the day to just recording if the schedule allows. (Sometimes the schedule doesn't allow, and the artist has to cram in recording plus press at the same time.) It isn't unheard of for artists to have back-to-back interviews if it's a press day. If there is a photo shoot, usually a big chunk of the day is blocked off for the shoot.

Artists do get days off sometimes if they just don't have any large commitments and/or aren't recording. But, it really does depend on the artist and their management team.

As for the event you were asking about, this question was submitted 20 days ago (sorry it took me so long to get back to you, I've been insanely busy) so I'm not actually sure which event you are referring to or what was happening during that time so you'll have to be specific if you still have a question about it! I haven't been able to pay as close attention in the past month due to my job being kind of overwhelming these days.

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Complementary (The INKED Collection)

Masterlist

THE INKED COLLECTION:  A series of full-length one-shots detailing the stories of various Haikyuu boys, soulmate marks, and tattoo cover-ups.

Word Count: 6.8k 

tw: Death, blood, battle, major character death, disbelief in the system 

Pairing: Warlord!Kuroo x fem!ninja reader

Genre: Major angst, Edo period soulmate AU

Summary: Your tattoo has dictated your fate from what Clan you would support, to what training you would do. A simple cover-up has changed your life much more than you originally anticipated. But what else can you expect from the fickle warlord you call a close friend?

Tattoo image is from Google!

AN:  Thank you for joining me on the first one-shot of “The INKED Collection”! More one-shots to come, but they’ll be on the fluffier side 😅 This will be a side project, so new updates will not be scheduled~!

Complementary 

Everyone had a perfect match. A complementary pair. At birth, a mark appears on your skin to designate what clan you belonged to. Where your soulmate would find you. Owls flocked to Fukurodani, weasels escaped to Itachiyama, and eagles soared in Shiratorizawa. Your tattoos were placed in the same spot as your soul-mate, designs mirror reflections of it. If one person had a black design, the other would have a similar design in white. Your head snapped up as someone entered your room, weapon in hand as you prepared for the worst.

“(L.Name), you’ve been reassigned.” (E/c) eyes widened.

“Reassigned?” Your grip relaxed, tucking your weapon away. 

Kenma cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Lord Kuroo has asked that you serve as his personal guard.” He pulled out a scroll, handing it to you. “As you’re aware, there’s been an increase in movements by the Itachiyama and Shiratorizawa clans. More threats have come in.”

“But I’m meant to-”

“You’re meant,” golden eyes flashed dangerously, “to do whatever your Lord commands.” 

You bristled, jaw clenching. Letting out a sharp breath, you hissed, “as you say, my Lord.” 

“Very well. Lord Kuroo should be in his chambers still.”

With a stiff bow, you trudged down the hall to find Kuroo. Your hand settled on the handle of the bamboo sword that hung on your hip, grasping it loosely. As a woman trained in some of the deadliest forms of combat, you weren’t meant to be a simple bodyguard. No, for all these years you’ve used your skills for espionage. After all, when there are warring clans and a sharp decline in kunoichi, or female ninjas, there was less suspicion and focus on you whenever you were in the field. You scoffed, knuckles turning white. The paper crumpled in your shaking fists before you shoved it into the inner pocket of your kimono. You’d find Kuroo later. Right now, you needed to take care of your rage before you treaded into dangerous waters. Whipping around, you made your way towards the training grounds. 

Storming in, you were thankful to find it empty for once. Usually there would be a few people already, but considering that it was still early in the day, the room was deserted. Making your way to a corner with wooden posts, you shrugged off your kimono leaving only the inner layer. Before, you used to keep the kimono on in an effort to hide your soulmate mark. However, since getting your tattoo, you felt more confident in revealing your skin. 

“This is a beautiful mark,” Kai, a Nekoma samurai who dabbled as the Clan’s resident tattoo artist, commented, fingers outlining your shoulder blade. He admired the white cat stretched in a moon outline that laid directly on your left shoulder blade. You hummed in response. “Are you sure?” Kai glanced between the mark and his design. He would be placing a tattoo of a red and orange phoenix surrounded by peonies directly over the mark. 

“I’ve thought about this for years now, Kai-san. Please, if you will.” 

“Very well, (L.Name)-san.” Kai shuffled, preparing the nara ink and double-checking the tebori tattoo tool. “Please relax, and I will begin.”

“Thank you.” You took in a deep breath to relax your muscles. Each push of the tool sent pain coursing through your veins. The first few movements had your jaws clenching, but you forced yourself to breathe through it. You’ve been through worse pains before. 

Removing the bamboo sword, you let it drop to the side. You tied the extra fabric to your waist, letting it hang as you flexed your fingers, sharp metal blades clinked as finger-tips tapped together. The silver gloves glistened in the morning light, weak yellow beams bouncing off as you surveyed them. These were your pride and joy. Neko-te, or cat’s paws, were a kuniochi’s favorite weapon. It was a prerequisite to train with them when becoming a Nekoma ninja. But, you enjoyed the simple irony of it and found it fitting to use as your primary weapon of choice. Though it was often best used in covert affairs, being able to use these in larger settings could work so long as the sharp claws were dipped in poison and provided that you were agile enough. 

You crouched down, closing your eyes. Wooden posts disappeared in your mind’s eyes, being replaced by three armed enemies. The world went silent, even the faint birdsong disappeared as the pounding of your blood filled your ears. You took a steadying breath through your nose, out your mouth. (E/c) eyes snapped open, launching yourself at the posts. Your dominant hand flew forward, imagining that you were swiping at someone’s neck. Ducking, you heard the swish of a wooden sword, or shinai, cutting through air before you twirled around, jutting your leg out to knock the assailant to the ground. Your hands braced itself on their chest, leaving gashes on the flesh as you sprung over the body. Landing lightly on your feet, you whirled around, another enemy was racing towards you while brandishing a knife. A rapid side-step before you were grabbing onto their arms, carefully guiding them away from your body. Claws sliced through their clothes as your grip tightened, slamming them into the ground and twisting their arm back so that they dropped their weapon. Kicking it away, you smashed their head into the ground, incapacitating them. You froze in your kneeling position before you straightened up, surveying your surroundings. 

Deep gouges were left in the dirt where you’d somersaulted over the imaginary foe, dust clouds just now settling. Loud noises snapped you out of your reverie, causing you to glance behind you. The sun had risen over your head, signaling that training would begin soon. Men were huddled in groups, idly chatting while they waited for their instructor. A few had already begun sparring. You rolled your shoulders, turning back to the posts. You proceeded to dream up more scenarios, incorporating strategies that featured your neko-te. 

A voice disrupted your concentration in the middle of one such exercise. “(L.Name), please come here.” Your arm froze mid-swing as the metallic claws clinked together. Your head snapped up to look behind you, casting your gaze to him. 

“How’d you know I was here?” You grumbled, walking towards him.

“Yaku told me.” Hazel eyes glinted mischievously. It was rare for Kuroo himself to join in the training. Kuroo turned back to the group, letting his kusarigama pool at the corner of the space before picking up a shinai. In battle, Kuroo often preferred using the kusarigama due to its versatility. Being able to swing the weighted chain allowed him to defend and attack from a distance, and being able to switch to the blade end when it came to close contact made it the most optimal. According to him, anyways. He faced his audience once more. “Before we start today’s training, I will spar with (L.Name).”

“Her?” Someone scoffed. (E/c) eyes narrowed as you found the offending party. A grey-haired male towered over everyone. “What does a woman know about kenjutsu?” Your jaw clenched as your eyes flashed dangerously. It wasn’t that it was a bad question. After all, kenjutsu was still a traditionally male technique. Women learning it was practically unheard of. You just hated when people underestimate your ability.

“Excellent question, Lev. Why doesn’t she demonstrate?” Kuroo smiled pleasantly, rolling his shoulders back. 

Slipping off your neko-tes, you kicked up a matching shinai, catching it in your hands. You tossed it into the air slightly, twirling it. “Don’t hold back on me now, my Lord.” You stepped back, adjusting your grip on your shinai before you bowed mockingly. 

“Now, (L.Name), when have I ever?” Kuroo smirked, turning towards you. You rolled your shoulder. “Ready?”

You crouched, preparing your weapon. “When am I not, my Lord?” 

With a cry, Kuroo brandished his weapon and stalked towards you. Both hands grasped the shinai as you parried the blow to the side, stepping to the opposite side as you attempted to elbow Kuroo’s head. Kuroo ducked, side-stepping as he swung his shinai towards your feet. You hopped up, pulling your shinai close to you as you rolled forward and away. Off-balanced slightly, Kuroo stumbled allowing you to steady yourself and straighten up. “Don’t embarrass yourself now, my Lord,” you tease. Kuroo growled, his carefree look ebbing away as hazel pools darkened. Circling each other like predators, you kept yourself close to the ground as Kuroo held himself up proudly. In this game of cat and mouse, you were determined to be the cat. 

With a smirk, you slapped the shinai against the ground, sending a cloud of dust into Kuroo’s face. He let out a startled grunt raising an arm to cover his eyes, his grip on his weapon slackened. You darted forward, slicing upwards and knocking the shinai out of his grip. You grabbed his arm, using his own weight to throw him onto the ground. Kuroo’s body crashed awkwardly, his head flying back. As the dust settled, he found your shinai against his neck, your foot on his back. “That’s not fair,” he grunted. 

“Do you yield?” More pressure was added to his back. Kuroo rolled his eyes, nodding. Stepping off of him, he turned over to see an offered hand. You pulled him to his feet, letting your hand drop as soon as he was up. He brushed the dirt off of his robes, turning back to his men. 

“Wasn’t that cheating?” The same male protested, his arms crossed.

“(L.Name) is a well-trained kunoichi,” Kuroo explained, “using unorthodox methods,” he shot you a look, humour sparking in his eyes, “is well within her repertoire and is something I should have expected.” Kuroo cleared his throat. “You may not know the background of the enemies you face. That is why you should come to expect anything and everything in battle and have a strategy to combat it.” 

Yaku stepped forward, standing on the other side of Kuroo. “Alright men, I will pair you up and we will have sparring matches.” As Yaku shouted his orders, Kuroo stepped closer to you.      

“If you wanted to be on top, you should have said something sooner.”

You snorted. “That’s hardly appropriate, my Lord.” 

Kuroo chuckled, a hand gripping your shoulder. “Join me for lunch after this.” 

“As you wish.” You dipped your head to him before heading back to your corner. 

A few hours later, you entered Kuroo’s chambers. Kuroo looked up from the table. Food was laid out, but his focus was on the scroll that he was holding up. “There you are, I was just wondering if I should send someone to find you.” 

You bowed. “My apologies, my Lord. I was busy.”

“Yes, busy training.” He gestured to the seat in front of him. “Please, take a seat.” You kneeled in the spot in front of him, letting your naginata rest across your lap. He cleared his throat, setting the scroll down besides him. “As I’m sure you’re aware, I have requested you to become my bodyguard.” As you opened your mouth to protest, he held a hand up. “Both Kenma and I are worried. The rising state of tension throughout the country leaves us in a vulnerable position, especially if these reports are true.” His hazel eyes scanned your face. “I do not trust anyone else to protect me, but you, (L.Name).” 

You frowned. “If you say it like that, of course I’ll do it, Lord Kuroo.” 

His face relaxed. “Excellent.” He gestured to the food. “Please, help yourself.” After a moment’s hesitation, you picked up a pair of chopsticks, eating some of the food. Kuroo waited for you to take a few bites before also joining in. With your face downturned, you hid your eye-roll. Of course. First matter of business, poison-tester. You snorted. “Is something funny?” Kuroo cocked his head at you. 

“I better not be your only poison-tester,” you swallowed, looking up at him, “otherwise you’ll be in some trouble if you encounter actual assassins.” 

He laughed. “Don’t worry, I don’t intend on using you like that.” 

****

The chilling grates of metal plates grinding against each other filled the air as you shuffled into the dining hall, blood speckled across your cheek. Making his way towards the front of the room, Kuroo took his seat. You kneeled beside him, running a blood-stained rag over the neko-te. On his other side, Kenma sat in a pool of regal red silks. Kenma had remained behind, serving as the strategist behind Nekoma. All around you were bustling bodies, roaring with laughter as the smell of alcohol and blood tainted the stale air. Shiratorizawa’s forces had been pressing on your borders, and so you and Kuroo had led a raid against them, successfully driving them away. This time at least. 

The clang of metal cut the cool night air. The fire of adrenaline ablazed as you cut down body after body. With each body that fell, another surged forward to take its place. Kenma had hoped that the cover of night would help the raid with the element of surprise on-hand. But the Shiratorizawa Clan was more than prepared for such tricks as expected of one of the most powerful clans in the country. Their forces were armed and vicious in their retaliation. You ducked, an arrow flying over your head and burying itself into the enemy you faced. A body fell behind you, causing you to whirl around. Blood dripped down the kusarigama blade that Kuroo wielded, having used it to kill an enemy that had crept upon you. “Duck!” You shout, plucking a spear off of the ground and brandishing it over your head. Kuroo obeyed without a moment’s hesitation, letting the weapon soar over his head to bury itself into the enemy that was behind him.

Back to back, you and Kuroo left a circle of bodies. You would dart forward and engage in hand-to-hand combat while Kuroo whipped his chain around, driving back forces and cutting them down when men got too brave. Claws glistened with blood as you swiped at a man’s hands, forcing him to drop his sword. “I should have made you my bodyguard sooner,” Kuroo hollered over the roar of the battle.

“Of course you would need someone to protect your back, my Lord,” you retorted, cutting down another approaching enemy. 

“Only when it’s you.”

The crimson glow slowly disappeared as you worked the rag harder, the acidic sting of vinegar beginning to overwhelm even your own heightened sense of smell. “Must you do that at the table?” Kenma’s face flashed with disgust as he leaned around Kuroo, glaring down at your hand.

“You know as well as I do that this is a part of my routine, Lord Kenma.” Your dry response caused Kenma to shift his glare to you. He bit his tongue, straightening himself up and averting his eyes.

“It’s improper.” 

You only hummed, closely examining your claws. It’s not like you had never done it at the table before. As kids, this was the first thing that you would do after training or any battle. To drive away the ghosts and demons that followed after a life was taken by bloodstained hands. To forget about the bruises, aches, and calluses you were accumulating. As an adult, you continued this habit, finding solace in the practiced movements. After battles, you would typically seek a seat amongst the retainers closer towards the door, if not outside the hall entirely. You were reserved; being in the center of attention was the last thing you wanted in general, let alone after a battle. Satisfied by how clean they were, you slipped them off and tucked them carefully into your kimono. “Perhaps you should focus more on the celebration than on my behaviour, my Lord.” Kenma clicked his tongue at you, and instead of replying, decided to pour himself a cup of sake. 

“To a successful raid,” Kenma muttered, tapping his cup to Kuroo’s. Kuroo threw his head back, swallowing it. 

“To many more,” you agreed, cup untouched. 

Kuroo stood, another glass shoved into his hands by an eager retainer. “To Nekoma! May more success and honor flow through the blood of this clan.” The room filled with even more roars as more people glowed like cherries. A slight frown tugged at your lips. This would be the perfect time for an ambush or retaliation, you mused. Hardly any of them can stand on their own. Kuroo downed his cup before placing it down onto the table. His black and red armor rustled as he made his way to the entrance. The golden cat on his chest glowed on the backdrop of black under the flickering fire-light. You stood up, gliding towards him. He stepped outside, the cool night air relieving after being in the stuffy room. “You do not have to follow me, (L.Name).”

“As your bodyguard, I believe that’s my duty, my Lord.” 

He let out a soft chuckle. “When will you drop the ‘my Lord’ business?”

You shrugged, stepping to stand besides him as he leaned over the red fencing, eyes roaming the empty garden. You leaned your back against it, arms folded as you gazed back into the room. “You know as well as I do that doing so would be improper.” You snickered, quoting his best friend. Kuroo’s chest shook with stifled laughter. Clearing your throat, “shouldn’t you be in there,” you dipped your head towards the room, “celebrating with your men?”  

He shrugs, straightening up. Kuroo offered a hand towards you. After a moments’ hesitation, you draped your fingers over his, letting his hand caress yours. A soft warmth crept through your body at the touch. With tender movements, he pulled you towards the garden. 

Stepping under the glow of the moonlight, he escorted you to the wooden benches alongside the koi pond. He relinquished his grip on your hand, brushing his robes aside as he sat down. Kuroo looked up at you expectantly, patting the spot besides him. You reluctantly took a seat, worried about how this may look to others. “Do you ever wonder what your soulmate is doing?” Kuroo cast his gaze on to the pond, face blank.  

You swallowed, watching as the two koi fish circled one another. The shimmering reflection of the half-moon hovered on top of them. The white fish gave the illusion of a full moon whereas its black counterpart created the all-too familiar yin and yang. Pale pink blossoms floated along the surface. “Sometimes.” Your fingers played with one another, right foot bouncing. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to meet them, but I fear that I would not be able to restrain myself from the pull.” Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. ‘I’ve only felt the pull to one person.’ 

“Mama, why am I doing this?” You stomped your foot, crossing your arms. Chubby fists of a six-year old clenched. Your mother knelt beside you, patting your head. Her robe raised, revealing a flying owl.  

“Do you remember your soul mark?” 

You frowned. “The kitty-cat?”

“Yes, honey.” Your mother pulled you into a hug, patting your back. “Nekoma is the cat Clan. You and your soulmate belong to Nekoma.” She released you, standing up and towering over you. “That’s why we trained you in the neko-te.” You pulled your hands free, unclenching them as you stared at your fingers, imagining the metal gloves that you had been using. 

“But I wanna stay here with you and Papa,” you whined, jutting your lip out.

“(Name).” You jumped, blood chilling at the voice. “Stop your whining.” You turned, gazing up at your father. His arms were crossed, biceps flexed to show the owl, wings outstretched to wrap around his entire bicep. “You are a (L.Name). You will make your family proud and serve your Clan well.” 

“Yes Father.” Your head hung as he patted your head. 

“Now, go get changed. Lord Kuroo will be here soon to pick you up.” 

“I’m leaving now?” Your head snapped up, eyes flicking frantically between your parents. Your mother had a frown on her face. “I thought I was supposed to finish my training first?”

“Lord Kuroo has arranged for you to complete your training on the castle grounds. Now get changed, I won’t ask again.” You bowed, tears welling up in your eyes as you hurried out of the room.

“Is this really for the best?” Your mother’s faint words were the last thing you heard before the door slid shut. 

Returning after changing into the red kimono that your mother had laid out, you froze. Your feet moved on your own as you approached the boy that hid behind the wooden column. “What are you doing here?” 

The boy jumped, whipping around to face you. “My father is here to pick someone up.” 

Your eyes widened as you bowed steeply. “My apologies, Lord Kuroo.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened to match yours, waving his hands aggressively. “You don’t have to bow like that!” His cheeks glowed. “My father is Lord Kuroo. You can just call me Kuroo.” As you straightened up, a booming voice sent shivers down your back. 

“Kuroo! Come here, we’re leaving once she arrives.” 

“C’mon,” Kuroo offered a hand to you. Your cheeks matched your kimono as you took it, surprised at the electricity that shot up your finger-tips and through your body at the contact. A frown crept onto his face as you both looked down at your joined hands. Another shout had you both sprinting towards Lord Kuroo.

“My Lord, this is my daughter, (Name).” 

You let go of Kuroo’s hands, bowing. “I will be in your care, my Lord.” Lord Kuroo surveyed you, giving a final nod. 

“Let’s go.” He spun on his heels, leading you and his son to two horses. Lord Kuroo climbed onto a massive black stallion

“Here, I’ll help you.” Kuroo hoisted you by the waist, placing you onto the chestnut mare. He gave you a wide toothy grin, one of his bottom teeth missing. “I hope that we can be friends.” You nodded shyly, brushing your hair behind your ear. Kuroo climbed onto the horse behind you, snaking his arms around to take the reins. His father clicked his tongue, digging his heel into the horse’s side as he took off down the road. You tried to ignore the electric sparks that filled your body as Kuroo’s warm chest met your back. 

‘Leaving Fukurodani and Mama and Papa won’t be too bad as long as I have a friend like Kuroo Tetsurou by my side,’ you thought as your family home disappeared in the distance.

Kuroo hummed. You both remained silent for a moment longer. The faint babble of the waterfall occupied the silence. Your attention drifted to the stoic male. Focusing on his deep breaths, you allowed your muscles to relax. Soreness from the battle crept in; your eyelids began to droop as a sense of calm caressed your body. “You should rest.” Kuroo glanced down at you, breaking the peaceful spell.

“Only after you do, my Lord.” 

“Then we shall both go to bed now,” he murmured, standing up and offering his hand once more. You escorted him to his room, bading him good night as he stepped inside. The door slid shut, and his night guard stepped in front of it.

“Take care of him, Yamamoto.” 

“I will. Good night, (L.Name)-san.”    

****

Tensions were high, thick enough that even a butcher’s cleaver would not be able to slice through it. Your eyes shifted from one grim face to another when the door to the war-room suddenly slid open. You crouched quickly, hand falling on the weapon at your hip. “You started without me?”

You relaxed at the familiar sight. Kuroo stood, dipping his head slightly. “My apologies, Lord Bokuto. I was not aware that you would be arriving so soon.”

Bokuto stepped in, his mere presence filling the room. You made eye-contact with the male who stepped beside him, nodding at him. Gunmetal blue eyes twinkled as he returned your nod. “We left as soon as we received your message. You know this affects Fukurodani as much as it affects Nekoma.” The duo walked towards you. Bokuto slid into the seat beside Kuroo, Akaashi stood behind him. You took a step back, taking your place beside Akaashi. 

Kuroo cleared his throat, sitting back down. “Recent reports state that Itachiyama and Shiratorizawa have started to collaborate. With Nekoma in between their territories, we will be at risk if this news is in fact true.” Kuroo gestured towards Bokuto, who sat impassively. “I have invited Fukurodani here to discuss our strategies of attack in the case that both Clans decide to attack.” 

You zoned out, scanning the room once more. All around you were familiar faces. You had grown up in this clan. The country constantly teetered on the precipice of war, and you were more than aware of the outcomes. Each battle, from a small border skirmish to a full-scale invasion, ended the same. Some of these faces would disappear for good. Wives would lose husbands, children would lose their fathers. Families torn apart for what, power? Greed? What you would give for a peaceful world. A world where you could be in the arms of your soulmate as you both attended a hanami. Or at least a world where you can have mundane things and experience any other form of domesticity. Kuroo cleared his throat, snapping you out of your trance. “The meeting is over, (L.Name).”

“So it is.” You straightened up, making a move towards the door.

“Wait a moment.” Kuroo grabbed your hand. You looked over to him.

“Yes, my Lord?” He pulled a hand out of his kimono, presenting you with a white chrysanthemum kanzashi. You stared at the hairpiece, carefully looking at the white blossom that sat on a bed of bright green leaves. “What is this for?”

He cleared his throat, turning his face forward as he surveyed his clan-mates filing out of the war room. “Your hair is getting longer. As war approaches, this will ensure that your hair does not obstruct your vision.” A rosy tint dusted your cheeks. If you had spared the warlord a glance, you would notice a similar one creeping up his. 

“I see.” You carefully picked it up, turning it over in your hands. “Thank you, my Lord.” You made a move to put it in your hair, only for Kuroo to do it for you. The pink roses bloomed scarlet at the contact. You cleared your throat, stepping away and nodding at him. Akaashi appeared at your side, having finished a whispered conversation with Bokuto. “Ah, Akaashi-san.” You grinned at the male, thankful for a distraction from the heat that swept through your body. 

“(L.Name)-san.” He dipped his head to you. “I had a question about your kenjutsu technique.” 

You stepped away from the table, “how funny, I was just about to ask you for assistance on that as well.” 

Akaashi’s eyes sparkled. “Is that so?”

“Yes. Shall we make our way to the training grounds?”

Akaashi bowed slightly. “I’ll be in your care.” 

You turned to Kuroo. “If you’ll excuse me, my Lord.” You bowed to Bokuto. “I will be borrowing Akaashi-san, Lord Bokuto.”

“Be sure to return him in one piece,” Bokuto warned, grinning at you. Akaashi bowed to both lords before you both made your way out of the room. The males stayed silently in the room for a few moments longer.   

“Is that her?” Golden orbs surveyed his taller companion.

Kuroo glanced at his counterpart. “How did you know?” 

“You look at her the same way Akaashi looks at me when he thinks I’m not looking.” 

****

“The heavens seem disturbed today,” you comment, casting your eyes up. Dense clouds muddled the starry skies as the full moon twinkled. 

Kuroo glanced up, pulling his coat closer. “Let’s hurry home.” You and Kuroo had been in town, visiting one of the Clan’s establishments. Fukunaga had been sent out on an infiltration mission to Shiratorizawa and had returned there to present you both with a report. 

“You know what they say, clouded skies with a full moon bear ill omens.” Your hand fell onto the naginata that was strapped to your side, gripping it tighter. Loud crashing noises distracted you as bodies trudged out of the alleys. 

“I believe you’ve cursed us,” Kuroo teased, the clink of metals and weapons filling the air.

“I do believe you’re right, my Lord.” In one fluid motion, you pulled the naginata over your head, steadying it in your grip. “We do not want any trouble,” you called down the alley. A faint hope in your heart prayed that they were simply drunkards who awoke due to your conversation with Kuroo, but you knew you couldn’t be that lucky. 

“Well, we do.” You leapt out of the way as a knife went whistling past you, burying itself into a wooden post. 

“Ambushing us? How unchivalrous.” You slipped your hands out of your sleeves, flexing your fingers. Silver claws glowed under the pool of moonlight that enveloped you. With a violent roar, pandemonium broke out. You ducked as one of the males swung at you with a tonfa. Wood met wood as you swung your arms, disarming him. Smashing the naginata into his gut, you twirled to parry the next weapon. With a flourish, you spun yourself away from the incoming enemy. The neko-te glinted menacingly as you sliced, staining them red as the male staggered back, frantically clawing at his neck. Crimson poured down from the marks you left. The skin bubbled as the fast-acting poison infiltrated his system. Besides you, Kuroo was preoccupied fending off his own attackers. Your eyes widened. “Get out of the way!” You shout, shoving Kuroo aside as a metallic glint caught your eye. A body collided with you as you grunted in shock. You stumbled back, looking down. Red blossomed over your white kimono, a knife buried in your chest. The naginata slipped out of your grasp as you collapsed onto your knees.

Kuroo’s vision went black, grabbing the male by the wrist and yanking the enemy towards himself. Kuroo head-butted him before throwing him over his shoulder into the wall. He rushed to your side, collapsing onto the ground besides you. He turned your body slightly, dismay coursing through his veins as icy claws gripped his heart. He cursed himself for not insisting on more guards. “We have to get help now!” Kuroo shouts, glancing around. Crumpled bodies littered the area. His hand reached for the knife.

  “It’s too late now.” Fingers lightly curled around his wrist. “Kuroo, I can’t breathe.” Your voice cracked. As you attempted to swallow, a cough overtook you. 

“I can’t lose you now.” His vision blurred as he furiously blinked. A clammy hand reached for yours.

“You’ll be fine.” Another hoarse cough. “Cats always land on their feet and so will you.” 

“But I won’t have you by my side.” Tears streamed down his face, glassy eyes frantically searching yours.

“You’ll find another bodyguard,” you smiled. Crimson trickled down your chin. You weakly tried to wipe it away with the back of your hand. 

“But I won’t find another soulmate.” Kuroo’s tears trickled onto your cheek, slowly gliding down to mix with your blood. He pulled his robe down, an almost familiar sight greeted you. A black cat curled on his left pectoral muscle, napping against the outline of the moon. The dam finally broke sending a tidal wave of emotions through you. Tears escaped you as shaky fingers delicately stroked the mark, a choked sob spoiled by the violent cough that tore through your body. Red streaks marred his otherwise clear skin. Kuroo’s hand tightened on your shoulder, fingers rubbing your covered mark.

Just as you were settling into the tattoo session, the shoji doors slid open. “(L.Name)?” You rolled your head to the side, eyes widening.

“Hello Lord Kuroo,” Kai greeted pleasantly, wiping away the residual ink that bubbled on your skin. He continued to poke away. 

“Hello, my Lord.” 

Kuroo crossed his arms, robes swishing with the movements. “What’s this?”

You pressed your chest closer onto the ground. The last thing that you wanted was to accidentally flash Kuroo. “I decided it was high-time to bear my mark.” 

“I see.” Kuroo watched for a moment longer, a strange look crossing his face. “Are you covering up your soulmate mark?”

You shifted uncomfortably, only to have Kai smack your lower back. “Stop moving.”

“Sorry,” you muttered, pink creeping onto your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you gazed up at Kuroo. “Yes, I am.”

“Why?”

Kai pulled back slightly, dipping the tebori tool back into the ink. You offered him a half-shrug before shifting your head back and looking down at the ground. “This lifestyle is too dangerous for such things, my Lord.”  

“I see.” 

You lifted your head to show Kuroo a soft smile. “I wouldn’t want to find my soulmate and have to worry about putting them at risk. Or have them worry about my safety. I’m a proud ninja and a loyal servant of the Clan.” 

Kuroo gave you a stiff nod. “Thank you, (L.Name).”  

“Well I recall mentioning that this was a terrible line of work for soulmates.” Your eyes twinkled as you joked. Imperial red splattered as you spat onto the ground. Kuroo winced at the sight.

“Something like that.” A sad smile crossed his face.

“Is that why you assigned me as your bodyguard?” The words trickled out before you could stop yourself.

He gave you a jerky nod, his fingers encasing yours as he held it to his own mark. “I wanted to keep you close.” You could feel his heart drumming. A pang shot through your heart. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend that you were just laying against his chest, curled around one another under the black veil of night. Perhaps under different circumstances, in another life. 

You stepped into Kuroo’s room, bowing. It was the eve before the Shiratorizawa raid. “Ah perfect. (L.Name), come help me.” He gestures to his armor. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t tell me that the magnificent Lord Kuroo needs help putting his own armor on.” Kuroo shrugged, sending you a cheeky smile.

“Even I need help sometimes, (L.Name). There’s no dishonor in asking for help when you need it.” You stepped beside him, sliding on the sode (shoulder pieces) over the kote (sleeves of various iron plates), lacing them together. As your fingers danced over the iron plates and leather straps, a soft medley filled your chest. “What is it that you’re humming?” 

Kuroo had his arms extended, eyes shut as he let you work. You bent down, fingers trailing down the straps to the haidate (thigh pieces). “Just a song from my village.” 

“It’s very pretty.” 

You let out an airy laugh, tightening a strap. “My mother used to sing while she bustled around the house at night, finishing up her chores. I would stay up late at night just to hear her.” You stepped back, eyes carefully scanning his armor. “Finished. How does it feel?” 

Kuroo lowered his arms, moving through motions to test his mobility. “Perfect.” He bent down, picking up a black hachimaki (headband), a silhouette of a golden stretching cat situated in the center of it. “Can you?” Kuroo held the fabric out to you.

You furrowed your brows. “Shouldn’t your soulmate or wife be the one to do this for you, my Lord?”

Kuroo offered you a smile, the flames of unknown emotions flickering in his eyes. “For now, I suppose I shall have to settle for my loyal bodyguard and closest friend.” A gentle hiss of air left you as you exhaled, your fingers brushing against his hand as you took the fabric. You’d gotten used to the electric pull between you both but it was still exhilarating when you experienced it. Kuroo kneeled, letting you stand behind him as you tied the hachimaki for him. “Thank you, (L.Name).” He stood, tying his sword to his waist and picking up his kusarigama. “Shall we ride?” Kuroo looked back at you.

“Wherever you go, my Lord, I shall be there.” You bowed your head to him. A knock at the door. You and Kuroo remained staring at each other as the door slid open.

“Lord Kuroo, (L.Name).” Kenma’s steady voice filled the room. “The men are ready to depart.” You slipped a black and gold cat mask on, pale sakura blossoms adorned the markings. 

You were the first to break eye-contact, moving towards the door. Behind you, you heard the shuffle of Kuroo’s armor. “Let’s begin the raid then.” Entering the court-yard, you saw Lev holding the reins for your dappled mare and Kuroo’s black warhorse. 

“Thank you, Lev.” You hopped on, patting Yua on the side of her neck. She had been a gift from Kuroo once you were made his bodyguard. Kuroo climbed onto Tadao, pulling the reins out of Lev’s hand in one fluid motion.

“Let’s ride.” Kuroo kicked his heels into Tadao, galloping through the open gates. You spurred Yua onwards, matching his pace as thundering hooves followed behind. 

“You promised that you would be with me wherever I went.” 

You offered him a soft smile. “My apologies for breaking my promise, my love.” His heart skipped a beat as shaky fingers squeezed yours. 

The heavy clouds crackled above you, droplets cascading down. “The heavens cry for us, dear.” Kuroo chuckled softly, blood-stained fingers brushing against your cheek. “I love you (Name).” Your heart soared. Since you had met him, your heart has been his. Your hand shook as you raised it from his chest to his cheek, cupping it. 

“I’m just glad,” a shuddering breath, “that I could save you one last time, Tetsu.” Your hand dropped, and Kuroo’s cry of anguish echoed throughout the streets. Above, thunder rumbled as the roar of heavier rain raced to match it. Crimson pools were washed away as Kuroo knelt there, your body still firmly clasped to his, violent sobs barely masked by the rain. The only time he could hold you like this ended up being the last chance he’d ever get. 

Epilogue:

Curses left plump lips as you scrambled down crowded streets. Turning sharply, you let out a sigh of relief. Standing underneath the wooden blue fence was a familiar sight. “Sorry for the wait!” You waved as you approached, chest heaving as you caught your breath. He turned, grinning as he tucked his phone into his pocket. “Were you here long?”

“Not at all.” He extended his arm. “Shall we?”

“Let’s!” You laced your arm through his, tugging him along with you as you entered the park. “Y’know, this is my first hanami.”

“Oh really?” Kuroo looked down at you, his eyes sparkling. “Well I’m glad to be here with you.” He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. Eyelashes fluttered as your eyes shut before he pulled away. As your lips chased his for another, a pale pink petal drifted down, sticking itself to your lips. You spluttered, pulling back. Kuroo let out an obnoxious laugh as he plucked it off your laps. “Should I be jealous?” He teased, holding the petal in front of your face.

“Shut up, rooster-head,” you scowled, averting your face as your face warmed. You shifted your attention to the sakura trees that surrounded you, eyes widening. “This is so beautiful!” 

“Not nearly as beautiful as you.” 

“You’re cheesy as hell, Kuroo.”

“Only when it’s you.” Your heart skipped a beat as you absorbed the moment. The words seemed so familiar and close to your heart. A tear cascaded down the left side of your cheek. Startled, you raised a hand to it, collecting it on your fingertip as you pulled it back to stare at it. “Are you alright?” Kuroo looked down at you, brow furrowed. “Why are you crying?”

You took in a deep breath, steeling your nerves. “I’m not sure.” You squeezed his arm, letting the sorrow ebb away at his comforting presence. “C’mon, let’s go.” Pointing down the path, you tugged him along with you. Everything just felt right, like this is exactly where you were supposed to be all along. He felt right. Like you and Kuroo were meant to be together, side-by-side against the world. You glanced up at your boyfriend, a soft smile crossing your face. Nothing would tear you guys apart, you would never let it.  

AN: I did a lot of research on this, so please enjoy some of these fun facts :^)

💟 A phoenix tattoo in Japanese culture represents ‘resurrection’, ‘victory’, and ‘ardor’ whereas the peony represents ‘abundance’, ‘dignity’, and ‘accomplishment’

💟 Kuroo gave her a white chrsyanthemum hair-pin. In Japanese culture, white chrysanthemums represent ‘truth’ or ‘grief’. While in grief was the truth revealed.

💟 ‘Yua’ means “binding love” in Japanese whereas ‘Tadao’ means “loyal, faithful man” 

💟 Tears that begin from the left eye symbolise sadness

Tagged: @weebintheinternet @settersloveletters​

Please message, comment, or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💞

[vorta-whore]

Personal Log of First Ridok’tala

Notes from the personal log of one Jem’Hadar First in the early days of his species’ initiation into the Dominion, detailing his dealings with a particular Vorta by the name of Weyoun.

Weyoun 1 x Jem’Hadar OC

Entries 1-5 | Entry 6 | Interlude | Entry 7 | Audio File Review

First’s log, personal. Stardate 01.651.7.

It is not my place to question the will of the Founders in any capacity. But I have found myself irritated lately at every turn due to this most recent change. Each rotation of our crew seems to be ordered just as we had begun to develop the efficiency of a cohesive unit. It seems every other week I am staring into a room full of unfamiliar faces. How am I to maintain trust and respect within my unit – loyalty among my men – if they are perpetually strangers among the ship? Moreover, how am I to develop an understanding of how best to serve my field supervisor if I am given no time to establish a working relationship with them before I am whisked away to another assignment?

It has been an acceptable-enough series of reviews from each supervisor so far – I would not be First if they did not recognize my ambition – but I am not given enough time to develop to the best of my abilities. I do not think this current system is conducive to allowing me to serve my Founders adequately. But there is no channel for me to voice these thoughts; it is the will of the Founders and so it is done. I will endeavor to do my best regardless of the circumstances.

 --

First’s log, personal. Stardate 01.653.4.

Field Supervisor Keevan, to my great relief, was promoted to Sixth Fleet Overseer and so we were reassigned once more. It is jarring to be shuffled around so much, but I am happy to be free of that ship. I and my new unit have been placed under the command of a Vorta named Weyoun.

Over the course of my five years of life I have known many Vorta. They do not differ very much from one another. They display cunning, pettiness, manipulation. Their dealings with us are tinged with disdain and contempt. Some, like Overseer Keevan, even tend toward outright abuse.

This Vorta is very different.

He greeted my men kindly and in his voice I detected none of the usual hints of sarcasm. He has so far been patient as the crew has spent time becoming acquainted with the new ship over the past several days. He has not leveraged the White as punishment, which by this point into an assignment would usually have transpired at least twice.

I am not used to such...soft leadership. None of us are. The men don’t quite know how to respond and nor do I. But to say this is an unwelcome change would be a lie. I look forward to seeing how the situation develops.

--

First’s log, personal. Stardate 01.662.8.

My men try their best. They really do. We are all still trying to adjust to this new order of things, Vorta and Jem’Hadar alike; it will take time for the road to become smooth of obstacles. Remnants of our previous life in Jem’Hadarian society, before the Uplifting, still linger in the fringes of our species’ subconscious. We had no need to forge alliances; matters were handled simply, with action rather than with words. And when words were required, they were not tempered with tact or subtlety. But now, before the elegant, intellectual Vorta, my people appear clumsy, uncertain. They interrupt at inconvenient times. They convey rudeness and disrespect where none was intended. They respond to every conflict with violence. It is no wonder the Vorta perceive us as nothing more than feral beasts.

Weyoun does not seem to hold this opinion. It is difficult to tell exactly what opinion he holds of us, but I do not think it is negative. There is a degree of...respect in our interactions. He does not pry for details when I assure him I will see to a matter, looking for holes to poke as the other Vorta have. He has allowed me to handle all disciplinary actions and to my knowledge has not been unsatisfied by the results. He welcomes my input in combat situations and, on one occasion, even thanked me for it.

The men are appreciative as well. He is endlessly patient with their social fumblings. He has not threatened to withhold the White at any point and does not treat the ritual as a burden. I have made it clear to my crew that we are to reciprocate this respect by striving to improve ourselves and our conduct as much as possible. For their part, they have shown progress. I caught two of them yesterday practicing conversational skills. This morning I overheard my Fourth advising the Fifth on techniques he utilizes to quell his anger in inappropriate situations. I have every confidence my people can grow to become something more than the dogs at the Vorta’s heel; if only there existed more supervisors like Weyoun to encourage this development to foster.

--

First’s log, personal. Stardate 01.670.1.

I have been steeling myself for some time for another reassignment, but our orders have not changed since we boarded this vessel. This afternoon, while discussing tactics with Supervisor Weyoun, I made an offhand comment about the matter – another small luxury afforded by the supervisor’s lenient attitude – and he responded with nonchalance that he had personally requested he be allowed to keep his current crew, at least until the next rotation cycle. I wished to know his reasons for doing so, but out of fear of impoliteness I did not press the matter. Still, I remain curious. Perhaps it is related in some way to the recent change in his mannerisms; I have noticed his smiling growing more frequent as well as a tendency to hold eye contact with me for lengthier periods of time. Perhaps he is simply becoming comfortable with my company.

--

First’s log, personal. Stardate 01.673.9.

My men and I underwent an exercise in patience today. Weyoun found himself engaged in animated discussion with a foreign dignitary at the usual time of the White distribution. I do not know if he had mistimed his communication or simply did not plan for it to take quite so long, but it does not matter; we needed the White. No matter how anxious my men grew, however, I did not allow them to interrupt the proceedings. After several hours the Vorta finally stepped away and I immediately made him aware of our need, which he wasted no time addressing.

However, there was an...incident.

Some malfunction caused the lockbox containing our White to fail to open. After several unsuccessful tries, Weyoun admitted with apprehension that he could not produce the White, and my Fifth lost his patience.

The Fifth has had a difficult time adjusting. More so than the others. I was unfortunate enough to serve beside him under Keevan’s command and I witnessed firsthand the injustices he’d suffered as the Vorta’s “favorite.” The experience has left him scarred and he refuses to accept that Weyoun’s kindness is genuine. He can see only snakes in the grass.

This happenstance seemed, to him, evidence to justify his mistrust. He accused the Vorta of toying with us purposely just before he lunged. I caught him easily and no harm was done – moreover I do not believe he was aiming to actually attack the supervisor. But such a display of threat was still unacceptable. I punished him by denying him today’s supply of White, since it was the cause of his unruliness. He will have to learn to deal with his emotions when they are not easily controlled.

Perhaps it was a soft punishment, but I do not feel the need to tarnish the admiration my men are beginning to develop for me with unnecessarily severe consequences. Time will tell if it is a successful tactic. I am only grateful to be able to serve on a ship that tolerates such experimental leadership methodology.

Weyoun, for his part, was sufficiently grateful for my interjection. He did not say as much but it was clear in his eyes. Times such as those remind the Vorta of their nature as prey animals, alone on a ship of predators, and though it is rare for Jem’Hadar to utilize violence against their superiors, it is not unheard of. Sometimes I pity them for this.

Weyoun was able to get the lockbox operational again and he delegated out the White. As I was leaving we had a strange interaction. He stopped me – first to ask if he could speak to me about a personal subject, a qualifier with which most would not be deigned to bother – and upon my approval, asked me to describe what it feels like to crave Ketracel White.

At first I did not know how to answer. The feeling is intrinsic to a Jem’Hadar warrior, and no other race has ever had interest in the process. I have never had need to put it into words. But I found some that I believe did the concept justice. I described to him the anxiety that fills us when we are without it. The thirst that becomes, eventually, overwhelming. The inability to focus on anything else. These things he seemed to understand. But I do not know if he truly appreciated the extent to which I emphasized the sensation of a hit of White. How it rushes one’s veins – fills one with warmth, with clarity, with life. There is no feeling like it in the world. Not even killing.

He seemed distracted as he considered my words. Then, inexplicably, he approached me and touched a hand upon my abdomen. I allowed it, but did not understand the gesture, and when I asked for clarification upon its significance he withdrew, apologized, and dismissed me.

I do not understand Weyoun in the slightest. I wonder if perhaps he is abnormal in some way. But I am finding more every day that my curiosity outweighs my apprehension. I am eager to see how these events will continue to unfold.

--

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Charles Spurgeon's "Morning & Evening"

Devotions for October 5

MORNING

"Though he were a Son, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered." - Hebrews 5:8

We are told that the Captain of our salvation was made perfect through suffering, therefore we who are sinful, and who are far from being perfect, must not wonder if we are called to pass through suffering too. Shall the head be crowned with thorns, and shall the other members of the body be rocked upon the dainty lap of ease? Must Christ pass through seas of his own blood to win the crown, and are we to walk to heaven dryshod in silver slippers? No, our Master's experience teaches us that suffering is necessary, and the true-born child of God must not, would not, escape it if he might. But there is one very comforting thought in the fact of Christ's "being made perfect through suffering"-it is, that he can have complete sympathy with us. "He is not an high priest that cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities." In this sympathy of Christ we find a sustaining power. One of the early martyrs said, "I can bear it all, for Jesus suffered, and he suffers in me now; he sympathizes with me, and this makes me strong." Believer, lay hold of this thought in all times of agony. Let the thought of Jesus strengthen you as you follow in his steps. Find a sweet support in his sympathy; and remember that, to suffer is an honourable thing-to suffer for Christ is glory. The apostles rejoiced that they were counted worthy to do this. Just so far as the Lord shall give us grace to suffer for Christ, to suffer with Christ, just so far does he honour us. The jewels of a Christian are his afflictions. The regalia of the kings whom God hath anointed are their troubles, their sorrows, and their griefs. Let us not, therefore, shun being honoured. Let us not turn aside from being exalted. Griefs exalt us, and troubles lift us up. "If we suffer, we shall also reign with him."

EVENING

"I called him, but he gave me no answer." - Song of Song of Solomon 5:6

Prayer sometimes tarrieth, like a petitioner at the gate, until the King cometh forth to fill her bosom with the blessings which she seeketh. The Lord, when he hath given great faith, has been known to try it by long delayings. He has suffered his servants' voices to echo in their ears as from a brazen sky. They have knocked at the golden gate, but it has remained immovable, as though it were rusted upon its hinges. Like Jeremiah, they have cried, "Thou hast covered thyself with a cloud, that our prayer should not pass through." Thus have true saints continued long in patient waiting without reply, not because their prayers were not vehement, nor because they were unaccepted, but because it so pleased him who is a Sovereign, and who gives according to his own pleasure. If it pleases him to bid our patience exercise itself, shall he not do as he wills with his own! Beggars must not be choosers either as to time, place, or form. But we must be careful not to take delays in prayer for denials: God's long-dated bills will be punctually honoured; we must not suffer Satan to shake our confidence in the God of truth by pointing to our unanswered prayers. Unanswered petitions are not unheard. God keeps a file for our prayers-they are not blown away by the wind, they are treasured in the King's archives. This is a registry in the court of heaven wherein every prayer is recorded. Tried believer, thy Lord hath a tear-bottle in which the costly drops of sacred grief are put away, and a book in which thy holy groanings are numbered. By-and-by, thy suit shall prevail. Canst thou not be content to wait a little? Will not thy Lord's time be better than thy time? By-and-by he will comfortably appear, to thy soul's joy, and make thee put away the sackcloth and ashes of long waiting, and put on the scarlet and fine linen of full fruition.

[realyouearthing01]

The benefits and advantages of Earthing / Grounding for animals/pets – Grounding to the Earth

As you will discover in this post, pets also benefit from Earthing / Grounding. So here is the testimony of different people who tell their experience with their animals and Earthing / Grounding, the connection to the earth.

When indoors, pets sense something familiar and beneficial when they come in contact with an Earthing mat or other grounding product.  They are definitely drawn to Earthing.  Although they can’t articulate what they feel, their actions and responses speak louder than words, as these accounts clearly indicate:.  Here is a sampling of feedback:

Extending Quality and Quantity of Life

The second edition of the Earthing book (2014) included a report from Sandra Wong, a musician in Boulder, Colorado, about how Earthing was helping her aged Grand Pyrenees dog, “Raffie.”

In 2013, she had first told us that “Raffie,” then 11, was suffering from severe, painful arthritis and multiple structural issues. She had exhausted conventional options, including medication that just made him sick to his stomach. She was reluctantly considering putting him down. Then a friend suggested Earthing and she obtained an Earthing throw for the dog. The results, she said, were striking. “Raffie” began resting and sleeping grounded. His energy amazingly returned, as did his mobility and zest for life.

In April 2014, the dog passed. “He made it to a miraculous 12 years of age, almost unheard of for his breed,” Sandra told us. “Grounding gave him an entire extra year of life and with quality that I didn’t think was possible.”

In early 2015, she told us she has helped other animals with Earthing. “The week before ‘Raffie’ passed, ‘Mosey,’ went into a steep downward spiral and was diagnosed with the lumbosacral disease, among other things. She’s another one of my Pyrenees. Her back legs were going out much of the time. She had full urinary and fecal incontinence. The vets didn’t have much to offer but after several months of using homeopathic remedies and encouraging her to spend more time on the Earthing throw, she has made a rather miraculous turnaround. She has been able to walk to and from the backyard without assistance. Her urinary incontinence and 99 percent of all accidents have stopped in the last three months. ‘Mosey’ is now 13 years old and a few months, and although fragile, she’s going stronger than I could have imagined possible with the only changes being nerve tonic (homeopathic), Traumeel (homeopathic), and her Earthing throw.”

Sandra continued: “A friend of mine has a rescue black Lab/chow mix with severe hip dysplasia. The old dog took a turn for the worse with the coming of colder weather. The pain meds he was prescribed left him lethargic, yelping, and disoriented. My friend put him on similar homeopathic as ‘Mosey’ and installed an Earthing throw, as I had done, in the dog’s bed. Now, two months later, it’s as if the dog was two years younger. He’s clear-eyed, connected, happy, and exhibited significantly less pain.

“Earthing also helped my mother’s dog, my grandmother’s dog, and my other Pyrenees, ‘Serafina.’”

In 2017, we heard from Sandra again. Both “Mosey” (14 ½) and “Serafina” (13 ½) had died the year before, 18 days apart. “However, both of them had a good quality of life up until the very end, despite their advanced age, with the help of the Earthing throw,” she said. “’ Serafina’ had a stroke shortly after ‘Mosey’ passed. I think she missed her sister.

“All this is to say, in my experience, Earthing is incredibly helpful to animals, including older ones with sensitive systems who reactive negatively to strong medications.”

Less Shedding

From Yavor Kresic in Ottawa: “My Siamese ‘Alexander’ loves going on the mat. I’ve noticed that he hardly sheds now. He’s an older cat and rarely goes out.”

More Comfort, Less Itching

From Ambien Hay of Vero Beach, Florida: “‘Jackson,’ my Jack Russell, loved his Earthing mat. It relieved his arthritis and pain due to Lyme disease during the last years of his life. He died at 16. After sleeping on it all night, he clearly felt more comfortable in the morning, as he pranced outside and had his breakfast.

“‘Sailor,’ my 12-year-old Westie, heads for his Earthing mat any chance he gets! He has been Earthing for more than eight years and is healthy and happy. The mat helped relieve his skin allergies and itchiness. He hogs my Earthing mat under the computer desk, his favorite place to snooze.

“All creatures large and small love to be connected to Mother Earth!”

In 2012, Karen Kolczak from Phoenix told us she obtained a mat for her cat after experiencing the benefits of Earthing herself. She said: “My old cat doesn’t get outside much anymore, but now she is going up and down the stairs much more frequently and curls up to me purring on the bed as if to say ‘thanks mom.’”

In early 2015, Karen reported that her cat had passed away and that she brought a new cat into the house who “loves the mat as well.”

Togetherness

New Hampshire researcher James Oschman sent this picture (below) from a doctor friend who commented: “Here are my daughter’s three cats. Ordinarily, they stake out separate rooms for their morning naps, but this is what they’ve been doing since I came to visit and installed an Earthing sheet on the guest bed.”

More Togetherness

From Linda Olk in Winston-Salem: “I have five dogs and a cat. And most of them, along with me, have been Earthing since 2013. The dogs get their indoor ‘dosing’ at night like I do, and sleep on the Earthing sheet I put over the sofa. Sometimes all of them pile on at one time. From time to time, some of them jump into my bed and onto the Earthing sheet. I have to shoo them off.

“The animals have all been in good health. After I added the Earthing sheet, they absolutely became calmer. Not that they had been rowdy or unruly, but they carried a certain agitation. That changed a lot.

“When the cat developed an infection from a bite, I noticed he spent more time than usual stretched full out on the Earthing mat I placed in the living room under my desk. The cat usually stays outside, right on the ground, under a tree, except when it’s very cold. Then I set the mat out and typically he gravitates to it.

“After I bought an Earthing yoga mat for myself, the dogs, and even the cat, want to lay on it. I sometimes have to shove them off when it comes time to do my exercise.”

It Works in Finland, too

Sisko Pynnonen from Kangasniemi says her dog usually sleeps on the floor during the winter and outside on the ground when the weather is warmer. “After I put an Earthing sheet on my bed, ‘Tahvo’ started to climb up into the bed in order to be able to sleep on the sheet. One night he even brought a bone into the bed. He seems to sigh with relief when he sleeps on the sheet…and sleeps there all night!”

Satu Laitinen, from Siilinjarvi, says her cats love the Earthing plush pad and compete to use it.

Maine Cats Know When They Need Mother Earth

From JJ, in Maine: “My two indoor cats don’t seem unusually drawn to Earthing sheets or their grounded pet beds when they’re healthy. However, when my cat Cleo had an inflamed paw pad, we noticed her resting on my daughter’s Earthing sheet in an unusual manner, with her arm stretched straight out in front of her, the sore paw pad placed gingerly on the grounded sheet.

“My other cat, ‘Pixie’ is an obsessive washer. Since she’s been sleeping grounded (two years), her fur has grown back on her sides and some on her tummy. Grounding seems to relax her and reduce the hyperexcitability of her condition.”

Don’t Get Crushed!

From Deborah Ebbers, Suttons Bay, Michigan: “I have a story concerning my earthing journey, started one and a half months ago. I bought the earthing mat for my bed and the results have been very positive; deep sleep, arthritic pain reduction, calm energy… and now my dog (who sleeps with me) has decided that since I’m earthed that it is perfectly natural for her to sleep on top of me……. there’s one little problem…she’s a Great Dane. Beatrix is 116 pounds!”

They Hog the Bed!

From Tina Morin, a German Shepherd breeder in North Bay, Ontario: “I have 7 dogs and they all try to get a piece of the mat on the floor lol I have a sheet on my bed and sometimes I catch them up on there too. They all sleep on it or on my bed lol as I have a grounding sheet there. They sure gravitate to grounding.”

Golden Retriever in Healing High Gear

Karen Poizin of Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin, reported that “Lance,” her Golden Retriever, had surgery to remove a large lipoma in his armpit in December of 2013. He slept on a pet mat during his recovery and, according to the veterinarian, “he healed quickly.”

“Juniper the Rat” − Life after a Stroke

Diane Higgins, of Toronto, is an ardent animal rescuer. “From fish to horses,” she says, and including rats. In 2015, she communicated to us about “Juniper,” her very senior and nearly three-year-old hooded female pet rat. The rodent had had a stroke, a fairly common affliction among elderly rats, and often fatal.

“I’ve become all too familiar with the symptoms but this time I had a new weapon and so I decided to use one of the Earthing bands,” Diane recounted. “Rats, no matter how well we feed and take care of them, don’t live very long, but if this could improve the quality of her life, I was all for it. Often there’s nothing you can do to help them in these situations, the time between a stroke and their unfortunate demise is swift.

“’ Juniper’ is one tough little gal. She had difficulty getting around so I decided to try the band on her and within twenty minutes she was able to raise her head. Within an hour she was able to use her legs again. After a few hours, she exhibited more mobility and was able to lift her head.

“I put her in a safe, warm, and comfortable location with the band attached (she had wiggled out of it once, but I got her back into it) and she settled in and let the band do its thing.

“I got the shock of my life the next morning. ‘Juniper’ had climbed onto the roof of her mouse house ALL BY HERSELF!! She climbed up and ate breakfast! She gave me a bit of trouble getting her into the band this morning but I got her in. She has MUCH better mobility and is much improved.

“She does the rat equivalent of purring (bruxing) when she is in the band. This can also occur when a rat is upset, but she seems to be a happy little rat when she does this.

“On the third day, she was having less problem holding her food, all the red stuff around her eyes is gone. That’s porphyrin, a secretion indicative of stress, sickness, or poor diet. Her eyes look clear and her coat feels silky.”

“On day five, she continued doing well. She has made daily progress. The old girl is now able to get all the way up to the third tier of the cage. She seems to recognize her limitations with ‘down.’ She actually signals me when she wants to come down and I either pick her up and place her on the bottom of the cage or I gently ‘escort’ her with my hand and assist her.

“She has never eaten commercial pet food. She gets filtered water, organic fruits, vegetables, nuts, and seeds, as well as avocadoes, bananas, mangoes, grapes, corn on the cob, carrot, spinach leaves, kale, and chaff from my juicing as well.

“Everything has worked in harmony. TLC without Earthing or Earthing without TLC would not have produced these results. When I first started this therapy with her, I was thinking she might not last another day. But she is doing so well and has been a great surprise.”

A week later Diane reported: “She is doing amazing!! She was able to fend off her younger companion ‘Thea,’ when I gave her one of her favorite treats, a piece of Pita bread. ‘Thea’ does NOT share. ‘Juniper’ is now able to drink out of the water bottle on the second cage level now. Her front paws are no longer tensed up and she is able to wash like she used to. She appears very calm and does that bruxing thing, which is so cute and endearing. OMG, she is so smart!”

“Juniper” lived actively for more than a month after her stroke, and then died peacefully. “I hadn’t expected her really to live another day after her stroke,” reported Diane. “She was a real trooper.”

Sweet Dreams

“I actually had to buy myself a second Earthing mat, because the minute I put my mat on the floor to put my feet on while watching TV, my Golden Retriever immediately would make a beeline for it. He then falls into a wonderfully deep sleep with lots of squirrel chasing dreams. For me, this disproves the Earthing doubters who explain Earthing benefits as a placebo effect. Both my dog and I know that earthing REALLY works!”

For more information, please visit https://realyouearthing.com/

[etraytin]

Quarantine, Day 181

September 8

First day of school in Virginia, first day of fifth grade for the kiddo! The day went surprisingly smoothly, a few minutes of technical difficulties at the start, but once everyone got into the video chatroom, it seemed to go all right. We are very lucky because we benefited from the way our district decided to split the baby on getting back into buildings. They offered the option of flexible schedule, in which students will go back into their classrooms as soon as it is deemed safe, even if that may mean going to school for a little bit, staying home if there's an outbreak, going back again, etc. They also offered the virtual only option, where students could opt to do tthe entire first semester entirely online, whether or not other students go back. We opted for full virtual, which I think I talked about some a few weeks ago. Our big worry was that he was going to be stuck with a teacher he didn't know and students from all over the district in a virtual classroom with no school identity. Instead, he got a teacher from his school, as well as mostly classmates from his school and a few from another nearby school. And even better, there are only twelve students in the class. That's basically unheard of, even in a wealthy school district like this. 

Only having twelve students means that each student got a lot of chances to talk and interact, and that by the end of the first day, the teacher was obviously already starting to learn them. Twelve students will mean more one on one and small group instruction, and more flexible learning. And of course if they do go back into the classroom in the spring, she has said that the plan is for the class to remain intact, so that means a class that is much easier to social distance. I am cautiously optimistic that this could be a good thing for us. Kiddo also got to show off his kittens during chat time, which pleased him to no end. 

School in full swing puts me in the weird position of having the living room and kitchen for my territory while the kiddo uses the kitten room and my husband uses the bedroom. I hang out there all morning and early afternoon, on call for technical support and trying not to put any pressure on our thankfully robust wifi. I did some laundry and cooked lunch, but the place wasn't even dirty, so there wasn't a lot to do. I should be working on my resume, of course, but that is scary and depressing so instead I dug into my creative writing folder and poked at things for awhile. I posted a poem rough draft here this morning that I might mess with a little more, except that I have nothing to do with it if I finish it.

Poetry classes and writing groups are definitely something I miss from Florida, the same way I miss my exercise classes and weight loss group from Laredo. Sometimes it feels like every time I try to improve myself in some way I have to leave, and it turns out that I can't maintain it without the support of the people who helped me get better in the first place. It's frustrating, both in terms of frustration at myself and at the world in general for me never being able to stay anyplace. Fingers crossed for a nice long stay here, even if I haven't really made any friends after two entire years. I guess this past six months shouldn't really count anyway. Nobody's making new friends in 2020. 

My computer did the surprise turn-off thing again, but I have wised up and started typing all my journal entries as drafts in Gmail because it is constantly autosaving. I lost like half a word, if that. Still kind of annoying! Tomorrow I'm going to go empty the truck in all the places it needs to be emptied (and it was SO NICE to drive the minivan on an errand today, I cannot even tell you) and then hopefully go out to the next town over and buy a secondhand loft bed. Some folks are selling one for 200 bucks, which is a hell of a lot better than trying to scrape together four or five hundred dollars, and I was able to find the instruction manual online so I think I'll be able to reassemble it. The kiddo and I are going to totally redo his room, which should be exciting and a horrible amount of work all at once. Wish me luck and patience! 

[lockdownuk]

Lockdown Diary Part 9

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day 241: Shit day at work. To cut a long story short, I could complete a task Sueanne gave to me and then I got it in the ear, including a snotty email ay 5:40pm. Pissed off.

Day 242: Had a meeting with Sueanne (our weekly 1-2-1 actually) and she was alright. I feel much better tonight. Last night I didn’t even have an appetitie - unheard of! Going to make up for that tonight, pie and loads of veg! A much better day. Ridiculously, I believe yesterday was all my own fault - I take work for granted sometimes and I let myself down by ignoring the urgency of a task just because it was Sueanne asking me to do it and she was a peer. She is now my boss, and I should respect that.

Day 243: So-so day at work. It’s strange how used to work I am after over six months on furlough. It’s been less than two months back but all the highs and lows amd frustrations are commonplace. Most importantly, it being Thursday, I cannot wait for tomorrow eveninga dn to kick back, drink and smoke. Spoke to dad this morning, he’s same as...that’s always good to know. Sugar levels have been a fucking roller coaster today, and it has really fucked me off! No salad at lunch due to them being so fucking high when I got back from my walk. It ended up being my tea. Sarted watching The Undoing...it’s OK. 

Day 244: Glad it is Friday. Just cooking a (very hot) chicken madras, cracked open my first beer. Gonna eat, drink, smoke and watch a good film.

Day 245: Gold was the film I watched last night, with Matthew McConaughey and it was a good choice. I then watch a Kevin Hart stand up show on Netflix...very Eddie Murphy, very funny. I did a 12 km walk today...fucking felt it in my legs. Walked the footpath from Stoke Doyle road to Benefield road for the first time. I liked it and it comes out between Lytham Park and Wakerley Close....I posted on FB about the fact that when I move to Oundle, Clifton Drive was the last street heading out of town. Saw Becks on the walk down Benefield road, She mentioned she’s tired of lockdown. I replied that I’m tired of the virus!

Day 246: Up at 1pm, nice long walk, ordered new slippers and waterproof jacket (my Craghopper is bust again).

Day 247: I screwed up at work today, went for a (ridiculously) late lunch right when I was meant to be at an online meeting that Sueanne had reminded me about in the morning. There’s mitigation but, when push comes to shove, I fucked up and now Sueanne’s on the warpath - one more slip up and it’ll be an offical disciplinary matter. 

Day 248: Suzanne wants me to troubleshoot a ticket she has in her queue, some database request for a Cork guy. It’s a test and it’s fucking me off.

I did testing for a network change tonight...8 till 11:15pm.

Elliot and Aaron cleaned the windows today. It was nice to see them.

Rita sent a couple of emails recently. Dad’s ear is all clear but Paul has got testicular cancer.

Day 249: New waterproof jacket arrived today. It’s very nice, bargain for £25 odd. Also picked up slippers from M&S food hall in Corby so, while over their, did a shop at Tesco’s...£109 mainly booze.

By the time I was back, I ended up doing my evening walk at 9.30pm!

Day 250: Leigh from Oundle Chronicle has got back to me. She (he?) has selected the photos that are going to be in the article and wants me to write a sentence on each - where they were taken and what inspited me to do so. Whether that means the stuff I wrote before is not going to be used, or not, I dunno! New slippers are OK and the new jacket is still impressing me.

Day 251: Typing on Day 252. Usual Friday, beers, meatballs, pizza, long chat with Fog. I should mention that, as we approach the end of Lockdown2 in England, Boris and his government have laid out a three tier structure for how the second lockdown will be eased. It’s caused confusion and consternation across the board. None of it affects me, still isolating like I was on day 1. Day 252: Totally forgot about my diary entry yesterday! Up at 1pm, nice long walk, nipped rong Elliots to pay for my windows, had a chat with him, Artron and Camilla - it’s so nice to socialise! Gonna make fish pie and supp a few ales. Day 253: The weekend is over way too quickly. It’s 7.30pm on Sunday as I type and I wish it wasn’t. I wish it was 7.30pm on Friday. Day 254: In a meeting, a working Zoom, with Andy Ashler in the US re: qfiniti, which Sueanne pissed me off about earlier in te day (RCI diary updated), but the meeting went well. I am desparately trying to buy an iPad on Black Monday. As usual with tech, I cannot make my mind up which to buy! Day 255: I haven’t bought an iPad....I’ll wait for the 10.2″ iPad to come down in price. I had more involvement with Andy Ashler and in the US with the Qfiniti project at work. I’m really enjoying it, it’s very technical...although I didn’t finish ‘til 6pm because of it. The Oundle Chronicle is out and an article about me and my pics is on the back page. Leigh, the editor, sent it to me electronically. It’s good. I am chuffed!  Day 256: I booked some holidays today, making sure that I didn’t include any days off in the week December 14-18 (SB’s off). So, this coming Friday (4th Dec), Next Weds-Fri and Monday 21st. I know I have only been back from Furlough a couple of months but I am more than ready for some kick-back time.  1-2-1 with SB today, it was a relaxed affair, most espcially becaus eof my success thus far with the Qfiniti project - that being said, I got pretty much nowhere with it today.  Ordered a couple of long sleeved Ts and a fleeced hoody from a shop called Doubletwo today, well cheap in the sale. I saw half a dozen joggers on the Milton Road blind bend tonight, oblivious to any other potential path user. I posted about it (in my own, sarcastic way) on the Oundle Chatter FB group. It was met how I’d expected plus some direct digs so I deleted it. Cowardly but, I figure, I don’t get my point across, the vast majority of joggers really don’t think they are doing anything wrong by bulldozing there way around town and, lastly, I couldn’t be bothered with the flak, and its tennis like back-and-forth!

Day 257: Got tomorrow off so worked late tying up loose ends, including the qfiniti project - fucking nuts really, making sure no one asks any questions of SB or the team, in terms of my work load, for just one day off! Still, just had tea, cracked open a beer and am watching Shaun of the Dead. Nice.

Day 258: The main thing I did today is walk. It was about 12km but felt much longer ‘cos it was wintry, pissing down, windy and slippery as fuck. And I really enjoyed it! Badge messaged me today to ask how I am and, in replying, I mentioned that I think I am becoming addicted to walking...it wasn’t a throwaway comment. Just cooked up a chilli (which I think I have ruined with a Knorr beef stock pot), and will tuck in with beers, smokes and telly. While it’s been a day off, this Friday evening will be as all others are at the moment, late, drunken and solitary fun - no doubt.

Day 259: Typing on day 260. That chilli last night was actually OK. Plus I ‘invented’ a meatball wrap - moving on from the TikTok ham and cheese wrap you fold into the toaster, I tried the same with meatballs but no fucking way could I fold it into the toaster slot (pissed up kitchen shenanigans), so I wrapped it in tin foil and heated it in the oven, Fucking delicious. I watched Shaun of the Dead. I think it’s the first time since its release and I couldn’t help thinking “zombies just aren’t like that [in real life]” Wtf?

Day 260: I was quite sensible (for a Saturday) last night, in bed by 2am, up at my alarm this morning, 10:30am. Nice long walk, taking in a new path up by Biggin Grange and took plenty of pics that turned out really good. Btw, posh lost yesterday at Portsmouth (with 2000 fans there) and they lost midweek and last weekend in the FA Cup to Chorley, at home. 

Day 261: It’s freezing today...actually 0 degrees. This house is so fucking cold, even with the heating on.

Day 262: Typing on day 263. Last day of work for 5 days. Beers are in order. And a sausage casserole. Day 263: I completely forgot to do a diary entry yesterday....concentrating on starting my work break off on the right foot, which I did. As a result, I didn’t get up until 1pm. So, to stop that sort of day wasting, no beers tonight. Just got back from a shop (£90 in Tesco’s), trying to sort out Romiley’s Christmas present, then something to eat (more sausage casserole) and a early, sober night.

Day 264: So, after abstinence last night, I was up before 11am and did a walk that included the track from Benefield Road to Monson Way past Park Wood. It was fucking hard work due to mud. I have lost coumd the amount of times I nearly slipped right over. Throw into that a hypo, the 12-13km walk was tough. Sorted out Romiley’s present (guitar stand, music stand and guitar exercises book). Took soime nice photos today as well which I’ve prepared and shared. No booze today/tonight either. Some break, a younger me would say!

Day 265: Friday, and I am typing with a beer, balti on the hob and I am just gonna choose a film and roll a single skinner. I am knackered. Up at 10am, cleaned the hall and stairs after a 10km walk. Also, I spoke with dad who is, as always, fine.

Time to make up for the last two sober nights.

Day 266: I am typing this on day 267. So drunk last night I left nearll a full can of beer and went to bed in my jogging bottoms and t-shirt. I have had a day off from any exercise at all which felt very odd. A few beers and watched Snatch. Day 267: While I was nowhere near drunk last night, due to sleeping in late (2pm) I was up ‘til 3am watching TikTok so today I struggled out of bed at just before 1pm. Watch the start of the season’s final GP (Verstappen won from pole and it was boring af), back on the exercising including a 9km walk. Back to work tomorrow which I feel totally conflicted about! Posh won yesterday at home to Rochdale (with the allowed 2000 fans) 4-1 including a 17 minute first half hatrick from Jonson Clarke-Harris.

Day 268: Back to work - Sueanne’s off and it’s the first day I’ve been at work with Jon in charge which involves a daily ‘SUMO’ (whatever that acronym stands for?) at 9.30am every day. I am still involved with te qfiniti upgrade project which seems to have taken a step backwards in the 3 days I had off, so I was working until gone 9.30pm! I have decided to do a quiz, hopefully for Christmas, whereby I don’t want the actual answers (to 25 particular questions, all with a common theme in the answer), merely an omitted question!  

Day 269: Stand Up Meeting Online. SUMO. Ian Bird told me. I might struggle with double Y for my quiz. Work was OK, more Qfiniti stuff. Posh drew away to MK 1-1. Posh were 0-1 up but Lincs lost at home. I can’t undertsand why that pleases me so....oh, yeah I can Steve Dee.

Day 270: Struggling to order Dad and Rita booze for Christmas without it being a Morrison’s delivery that I can do through Amazon Prime. That would be OK but it’s just a bit clinical! Meanwhile, now I am paying for Prime, and they are showing some Premiership games (for example, tonight I watched Liverpool v. Spurs (2-1), I really have to contact Sky - I am paying £71pm atm! Sam posted pic of her Christmas tree but mentioned how she’s finding it hard to get in the spirit - Paul has testicular cancer and the outlook is bleak - fuck know’s what she’s going through with all that, trying to shield Romiley from the worst without lying!

[seasinkarnadine]

Marked

Fandom: She Ra

Rating: G

it's early. The lights won't turn up for another hour, at least. Most of the year 12 cadets are still sound asleep in their bunks. Adora, however, is a morning person. She enjoys the hour of quiet time she gets to herself in the gym before everyone else wakes up for training.

She shuffles into their shared bathroom and is greeted by the sight of another early riser. Rogelio is standing at one of the sinks. His back is turned to her.

"Hey, Catra. I need you to give me back that--oh. Adora.” He turns so that he finally sees her. Adora states at him in confusion, and sees his tongue flick out to taste the air.

“Sorry,” he says slowly, measuring his words.  “I thought you were Catra.”

“Why would you think that?” She asks, walking over to use the sink beside his.

His face scrunches up a little when she does. His tongue flicks in and out wildly.

“You…” his yellow eyes dart around quickly as if to make sure they're alone. “You reek of her.”

“I--I do?” Adora sees her face flush bright red in the mirror. She's not even sure what she has to be embarrassed about, but the way Rogelio is acting it's like she's shown up naked to class.

“Well, when you see her can you ask for my Battle Skiff Simulator disc back? I need to study for the test tomorrow.”

“y-yeah, okay.” She stammers, watching as he shambles his way out of the bathroom and back to their barracks.

--

Adora walks into the barracks after her morning exercise while everyone else is up and getting ready for the day.

She finds Catra on their bunk, wearing her thumbs out on a game pad that's running a Skiff Simulation. It's unusual to find her awake at this hour, but not unheard of.

“Catra?” her friend's ears flick in her direction but she makes no other indication that she heard her. Adora moves over to sit on the bed next to Catra to watch as she runs through the aim. When she does, she notices that Catra's nose starts to twitch wildly.

“Rogelio did that same thing to me earlier!”

“What? Smelled you?” Catra still doesn't turn from her game.

“Yes! When I walked into the bathroom this morning he actually thought I was you!”

Catra doesn't look at her but Adora sees her face become noticeably more red.

“Okay, seriously, what's going on?”

“Absolutely nothing.” Catra murmurs far too quickly. Adora reaches over and steals the game pad from her.

“Hey!”

“Catra I swear--” She sees the hard set to Catra's jaw, the way she refuses to look her in the eye. Adora softens.

“Please?” She asks gently, putting a hand on Catra’s thigh. Catra’s eyes dart around the room, but they're alone, save for Kyle in the far corner with his back turned to them.

"Okay.” Catra concedes, her ears pinned back. “But this is really all your fault, just so you know. Do you remember yesterday during sparring, how we were told to pick new partners? and Lonnie chose you?”

Adora nods.

“Well… last night, you were having some sort of… dream? Maybe it was a nightmare. You kept saying Lonnie's name.” Adora blinks. She vaguely recalls dreaming that the barracks was flooded by a sea of cockroaches sent by the Princesses and that Lonnie was lost beneath the waves.

"Anyway you were being kinda loud and I tried to wake you up--usually it's not hard--but this time, I don't know. And I guess I sort of, I don't know. I pressed my cheek against yours.”

“You pressed your cheek against mine?” Adora repeats, not comprehending.

“Yeah, dummy, like this.” Catra leans over and rubs her cheek against Adora's. It sets off a riot of butterflies in her stomach. Catra is soft and warm and smells of safety and home. It's over far too quickly.

“Anyway.” Catra scoffs as she pulls back, even though she's still blushing. “It shut you up right away, you absolute baby.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“And that's why I smell like you?"

“Probably.” Catra nods, sliding off of the bed. “Just take a shower or something if it bothers you so much.”

Confused, Adora wanders to the bathrooms to do just that.

---

For a few days after, Catra is strangely distant. Adora doesn't understand why, and eventually the feeling thaws and they're back to being best friends.

---

Some weeks later they have a brief lesson in a field training class regarding scent glands that some creatures of Etheria have. Apparently they use their glands to mark their territories to warn off competitors.

Most humans can't tell these smells apart, but some of the hybrid people can,  and it's important to bring them on scouting missions into the Whispering Woods to avoid confrontations with dangerous predators.

--

Later that night Adora corners Catra in the locker room.

“Do it again.” She demands.

“Do what again?” Catra scoffs, back pressed up against the cold metal of her locker.

Adora doesn't bother to repeat herself. Instead, she grabs Catra's forearms, pinning her in place. Then she leans in and rubs their cheeks together.

To Adora's immense delight a purr immediately forms in Catra's chest. She laughs.

“Sh-shut up,” Catra stammers without any real menace.

“Make me.” Adora says happily, leaning in to rub her other cheek. Catra purrs harder.

“I hate you so much.” she grumbles as Adora pulls away.

“No, you don't.” she laughs.

“No...I don’t.” Adora grins.

“Now, let's go to bed.”

“That's the best idea you've had all day.”

That night, Catra purrs herself to sleep, and Adora drifts off with a smile on her face.

[blackcatkita]

The Consequence of Secrets- Chapter 20

The Panic Begins

Liam x MC (Jennifer)

This was a tough one to write, and it may be difficult for some to read, hence the warnings below. I apologize for cutting it where I did, please don’t hate me! Tags are at the end, if you would like to be added, moved or REmoved from the lists, just let me know! I doubt anyone is going to “enjoy” this chapter, but if it moves you or gets you in the feels, please like, comment or reblog. I appreciate every single note! Word Count- 2752 . For all other works, please see my MASTERLIST.

WARNING- This chapter contains graphic descriptions of sickness and possible pregnancy loss. 

Disclaimer- I do not own these characters, that honor belongs to Pixelberry Studios. I’m just playing with them. Mood board made by the very generous @darley1101

 Jennifer kneels on the floor of their en suite bathroom, leaning over the toilet panting, trying to catch her breath after violently spewing bile and stomach acid into the bowl. Tears spill from her red, swollen eyes and roll down her cheeks, joining the beads of sweat that glisten on her upper lip as the sour stench of the vomit fills her nose. Her stomach clenches again as thick, sticky saliva floods her mouth and she lurches forward, heaving, though there’s nothing left in her stomach to throw up.

Whimpering into the porcelain basin, she spits, waiting to see if the nausea will return as the searing pain in her abdomen increases to an almost unbearable level. It feels as though someone’s plunging a dagger into her belly and an icy panic creeps across the back of her neck, spreading over her face and up into her scalp. Constipation didn’t hurt like this, nothing hurt like this. Something is very, very, wrong.

Too exhausted, weak, and in pain to stand, she turns away from the toilet and crawls forward, only making it a few feet to the rug in front of the vanity when the pain intensifies again, becoming a hot blinding pain wrapping itself around her midsection. Crying out in agony, she collapses onto her side, clutching her swollen belly in her arms as her body instinctively curls into the fetal position. I’m only twenty three weeks, this can’t be happening… Please God don’t let this be happening… 

Wracking sobs shake her body and tears fall from the corners of her eyes, wetting the plush white cotton beneath her as she thinks back on the last few days. It had been so easy to write off how she was feeling as ‘normal’, the initial exhaustion had been the easiest to ignore. Between the sanctuary fundraiser and organizing the picnic, she had been stretched thin, working long hours, not eating enough… How could she have been so stupid to go to Lythikos so close to an event? She should have been home, relaxing with her husband, not pushing herself even further.

It was obvious Liam noticed something was off at the picnic, but she brushed it off as him being overprotective. He knew her better than anyone and she should have listened to him… should have paid attention to how she was feeling, but she really thought she was fine. Of course, she was tired… so what if she wasn’t hungry? Those things were normal during pregnancy, weren’t they?

It wasn’t until the day after Liam left for Switzerland that she started to feel nauseous and even then, she hadn’t been concerned. Although her morning sickness had gone away when she entered her second trimester, it wasn’t unheard of for her to have an occasional bout of sour stomach. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, she could always take care of it with an antacid, ginger ale, or some saltine crackers… not this time. This time none of her home remedies helped in the slightest and it got steadily worse until last night at dinner, when the nausea got so bad that she had to run from the room before she puked all over the table.

Then the pain began.

It started as a dull ache, just above her belly button, that soon spread across the top of her midsection. With the pain came an increase in vomiting and she knew then it was time to see the doctor. Though she felt bad for waking him, she called Liam to tell him what was going on and it was all she could do to convince him that she didn’t need to go to the hospital. He finally relented but thought she should at least call the doctor right away. However, it was late and after her marathon vomiting session and a bowel movement, she really had felt a little better and promised to call in the morning when she woke up.

Only a few hours later, before the sun even broke the horizon she was jolted awake by sharp pain in her abdomen, cramping in her pelvic area and a new wave of vomiting. Concerned and frightened, she called their general practitioner Dr Novak and despite the early hour, he arrived within twenty minutes. After a thorough exam, he diagnosed her as being severely constipated and that was the reason for the cramping and nausea. It made no sense, she had been going fine, so when he prescribed laxatives, she didn’t take them. She couldn’t explain it, but something told her not to, and aside from that, she wasn’t going to take more medication than necessary, not when she had their baby’s well being to think of… a baby she’s now terrified they may never meet.

As she cries in pain on the bathroom floor, she knows she should have gone to the hospital in the first place, when Liam asked her to. How could she let it get this bad? What kind of mother does that? What kind of mother ignores sign after sign that something was wrong? It all happened so fast… Oh god, Liam… he’s going to be devasted if anything happens to either of them, he doesn’t even know how bad it is, nobody does.

From the bedroom, she hears the soft melody of her ringtone, breaking her of her thoughts. If she can get to her phone, she can call for help, and she knows exactly where it is. Sitting on Liam’s nightstand where she set it after hanging up with him mere hours ago. It isn’t far, maybe thirty feet… she can do this… she has to do this… for herself, her husband, and their baby.

Recalling her training as her phone rings a second time, she closes her eyes, breathes in through her nose for four seconds, then out through her mouth for four seconds, repeating the exercise until her pain lessens, her tears stop falling and her muscles relax. She grits her teeth and tries to prop herself up on her left elbow, wailing as the debilitating pain consumes her again. She feels the blood drain from her face as her arm gives out, making her fall back to the floor with her heart racing and sweat dripping down her back.

The pain is constant, what was once a dagger has become a sword through her belly, and every movement twists that sword to unbearable levels of agony. We’re going to die here… laying on the bathroom floor, she thinks, clutching her baby tight while fresh tears roll down her face and she tries to catch her breath. “I’m sorry little one. I’m so sorry…” She whimpers as the phone rings again. “I hope that’s Daddy calling... Daddy will send help.” And he would, if he couldn’t get ahold of her, he would. He wanted to come home last night, after she started cramping. The only reason he didn’t was because she insisted that it wasn’t that bad, and he should stay and finish the meetings. The summit was important, too important to leave because she had a stomachache. If only she had known how serious it was then, she wouldn’t be alone now.

Minutes seem like hours as she waits with bated breath, listening intently for the sound of the apartment door opening, but all she hears is her own sniffling and the ominous clicking of the second hand on the large wall clock to her left. It feels like an eternity since her phone last rang, maybe it wasn’t Liam calling after all and no one was coming.

Desperation settles in her chest, like a tight fist squeezing her heart and she shuts her eyes, silently praying to anyone who will listen. God… I need your help. I know I don’t talk to you nearly as much as I should, and I have no right to ask you for a favor… but please, please save my baby. If not for me, for Liam. He is such a good man and he’s already been through so much… please don’t make him endure this too. I don’t care what happens to me as long as they are okay. Please God, I’ll do anything I have to… I’m willing to fight, but I don’t have the strength to get up and I can’t do this on my own… I’m begging you, send someone to find me before it’s too late…

From downstairs, Maxwell’s baritone voice calls her name and she startles, drawing in a sharp breath as her eyes fly open. Thank you, God… she sighs in relief. “Up…” Her voice is nothing but a hoarse croak when she tries to shout, wincing as the force causes her pain to flare. Steeling herself against it, she clears her throat and takes a deep breath before bellowing, “Upstairs! Bathroom!”

Maxwell’s thunderous footsteps pound against the wooden stairs, resonating through the apartment as he rushes to reach her. In any other instance, she would scold him for making too much noise but at this moment, it’s the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard. Through a haze of grateful tears, she watches as Maxwell reaches the open doorway of the bathroom and stops short, his mouth falling open in shock at the sight of her on the floor.

“Let me through Lord Beaumont.” Startled by the deep voice behind him, Maxwell flinches, blinking twice with a quick shake of his head before stepping to the side to allow Bastien to enter the bathroom.

“Thank God you found me…” Jennifer lets out a sound, somewhere between a sob and a chuckle as Bastien kneels beside her, his forehead creased with concern. “How did you know to come?”

“His Majesty called me when he couldn’t get ahold of you.” Bastien glances over his shoulder at Maxwell, hovering in the doorway with tears in his eyes. “Maxwell, call King Liam and let him know we’ve found her and that she’s being taken to the hospital.” Nodding, Maxwell swallows hard before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone, his hand visibly shaking as he calls Liam’s number while Bastien turns back to Jennifer. He reaches out and places the back of his hand against her forehead, checking to see if she has a fever before pressing two fingers against her carotid artery while looking at his watch on his left wrist.

As Bastien checks her pulse, Jennifer listens as Maxwell speaks in a quiet but panicked voice to Liam. “We found her curled up on the bathroom floor… it smells like puke… she’s all sweaty, and she’s like, grey… It’s… it’s bad Liam… Yeah, Bastien is checking her now… Uh huh, ok, hold on…”

“Your heartrate is elevated.” Bastien tells her, interrupting her eavesdropping and releasing the pressure on her neck as his eyes study her face.

“Umm… Jen?” Maxwell approaches tentatively, holding out his phone, and she sees his bottom lip quiver before he quickly tucks it between his teeth. “Liam wants to talk to you.”

“Thank you, Maxwell.” She says softly, taking the phone and bringing it to her ear. “Liam?”

“My God…” Liam sighs in relief. “it’s so good to hear your voice my love. When I couldn’t get ahold of you… and with what Maxwell said, I feared the worst… Jennifer, what’s happened? Tell me what’s wrong.”

Her hearts stutters in her chest and she feels like she’s falling, spinning down into a black abyss as she begins to weep. How could she tell him she may be losing their child? That despite all the signs that something was wrong, she ignored them all… that she ignored him. She hadn’t thought her heart could break anymore than it already was but hearing the worry in his voice and knowing what she had to tell him, her heart was shattering. “I don’t know what’s wrong Liam, but I’m in so much pain…” Choking out a sob, tears stream down her face as she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Are you…” Liam pauses before clearing his throat and she knows he’s trying to control his emotions. “Are you bleeding?” He asks, his voice breaking just enough that no one but she would notice.

“No, but the pain is unbearable… I’m really scared Liam, I need you to come home… please come home.”

“I’m already on my way Baby.” Liam assures her, slightly out of breath. “I know you’re scared but I need you to be strong okay? Bastien and Maxwell are going to get you to the hospital and I will meet you there in about two hours. I’m getting on the jet now.”

“Okay.” She whimpers, sniffling.

“I love you, Jennifer. I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“I love you too… please hurry.” Sniffling again, she passes the phone back to Maxwell.

“Do you think you can sit up Your Majesty?” Bastien asks.

“Yes, I think so…” Jennifer replies. “but you might have to do most of the work.”

“I can do that.” Bastien smiles softly before gently removing her arm from clutching her abdomen as he places her right palm flat on the floor in front of her chest, making her wince as the release in pressure causes her pain to flare. Grasping her left hand in his much larger one, he snakes his other arm under her shoulders. “Alright Queen Jennifer, on the count of three I’m going to lift you up while you push with your right hand. Ready?” With her face set in determination, she takes several deep breaths and nods. “One, two, three…”

Holding Bastien’s hand in a vice like grip, Jennifer pushes against the floor with all the strength she can muster, crying out against the pain blazing through her core as his powerful arms lift her into a sitting position. Her breath comes short and fast and she leans back against the vanity with her eyes closed. “That… sucked.”

Bastien stands to get a bottle of water from the vanity, twisting it open before handing it to Jennifer. Reaching up, he presses his thumb against the tiny microphone affixed to his lapel. “Phillip, call an ambulance for Queen Jennifer, right away. Confirm receipt.”

“Bastien.” From the floor, Jennifer tugs on Bastien’s pant leg and waits for him to look down before continuing. “I want you and Maxwell to take me to the hospital. I don’t want the press to know about this and… I don’t think we can wait for an ambulance to get here.”

“Your Majesty…” Bastien crouches down with a heavy sadness in his eyes. “With my leg, I can’t carry you safely down the stairs.”

Jennifer’s eyes fall on Maxwell, waiting by the door with his shoulders slumped and his head hanging forward. “Maxwell, do you think you can carry me out of here?”

His head snaps up and he wipes the tears from his cheeks before meeting her gaze. “I can do it.” Sniffling, he steps towards her with determination. “How are we doing this?”

“Cancel the ambulance order. Bring a wheelchair to the Royal Chambers and have vehicle four brought to the front of the palace.” Bastien orders into his microphone, waiting for confirmation before turning his attention back to Jennifer. “Alright, first we will help you to your feet, then Lord Beaumont will pick you up and follow me down the stairs to the wheelchair and the waiting vehicle. I will alert the hospital on the way.” Bastien hooks his arm under Jennifer’s armpit and gestures for Maxwell to do the same on the other side. “On three again… one, two, three.” The two men pull her to her feet and she bites down, barely stopping herself from crying out again.

“So far so good…” Jennifer breaths out through her still clenched teeth as she drapes her arm over Maxwell’s shoulders, her legs wobbling beneath her.

“Let me know when you’re ready Jen.” Maxwell whispers, his voice laced with worry. Meeting his gaze, she nods her permission and he bends down, looping one arm across her back and the other behind her knees. He lifts her into his arms and hot searing pain floods her abdomen, even worse than before and she screams in anguish, digging her nails into his shoulder. “Oh my god!” Maxwell exclaims with tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

Sweat and tears run down her face as she clenches her eyes shut, breathing heavily against the pain. “It’s okay Maxwell…” she pants. “Not your fault. But we need to go. Now.”

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[hiphipfrey]

How about some wholesome Symmarah? Just a lazy Sunday at the base.

(me from the back of the room): IVE ABANDONED MY LADIES

----

Fareeha didn’t always like to wake up early. Her mother always joked at how it would take a shot from a flare gun to get her up in time for school half the time, and even when it was for something she enjoyed, like a game or practice for sports, she had to fight the urge to just drift on back to sleep in her oh-so-comfy bed.

But with age came the ability to overcome that urge. That, and boot camp kicked her ass hard enough to where she couldn’t sleep in these days even if she tried.

It didn’t surprise her much when she heard the doors to the gym open with a soft swishing noise so early in the morning. Lots of folks in Overwatch tended to be early birds, especially the older crowd. While the weekends were generally an exception, seeing as many liked to sleep in where they could, it wasn’t completely unheard of that others would join her in the gym this early on a Sunday morning.

But when she looked up and saw a somewhat new face, Fareeha startled and fumbled with her shoe laces. “Oh, uh, hello.” 

“Good morning.” Satya nodded at her as she moved briskly the open floor of the gym, unrolling the thin mat tucked under her one arm and setting down a small holo-pad beside it. “Did I disturb you?”

"Not at all.” Fareeha rose to her feet after fixing her laces and gestured vaguely towards the side door to the gym leading outside. “I was just getting ready to go for my run.”

“Run?” Satya stopped and looked up at her with confusion. “In this weather?”

She had scarcely uttered, “What weather?” before--

Ka-kooom!

A echoing clap of thunder announced the deluge of rain that began to pound on the roof of the base like a drum. Fareeha looked out to the far side of the gym and saw heavy drops of water pelting against the window in sheets, and gave a huffy sigh. 

“Oh.”Fareeha slumped down on the bench, looking towards the rest of the equipment in the gym. “Well... there goes that idea.”

Satya gave a soft chuckle, her voice still low and warm from the early hours of the day. “Perhaps another time.”

“I guess so, yeah.” Cardio days were her bane as is, and while she could always try and get her exercise in on the treadmill, she’d hate ever minute of running in place with no change of scenery. Twisting to face Satya now, she watched her fiddle with the holo-pad on her mat for a moment or so before soft veena music began to play. 

It was a gentle sound, one that only barely filled the open air around them and one that sounded oddly familiar the longer she listened.

“Wait, are you the one who comes in here before me on the weekdays?” 

She rested the holo-pad on the ground and knelt back on her mat with her feet tucked underneath. “Yes.”

“Oh.” Fareeha blinked and bit her lip. “Do you... always come in here to do, uh... yoga?”

“Occasionally, yes.” Another short, stunted answer.Slowly, Satya bent forward with her arms stretched in front of her, taking deep, calm breaths all the while. From under her arm, she looked up at Fareeha warily. “Why?”

“No reason. Just... curious.” She glanced around the room, unsure of where she was going with this conversation. It was easier to talk to others when they were all suited up, when everyone was using call-signs and ready for combat and on a mission. 

But here, where she wasn’t Pharah, but Fareeha Amari, and where the woman before her wasn’t Symmetra, but instead Satya Vaswani, it was hard, and it was even harder considering it had only been a few months since the other had signed on. Everyone was adjusting and getting used to all the new that had come with this new reinstated Overwatch.

Fareeha watched Satya shift her weight forward and suddenly, she was on all fours in a wide V-shape, her hips pointed up towards the ceiling and her head hanging between her arms. The motion was fluid and looked so effortless, as everything tended to look whenever the former Vishkar agent moved. In a way, Fareeha envied how conscious she was of the space around her, of how every elegant movement had some underlying purpose; whereas Fareeha felt she was the last person someone call for when a delicate touch was needed.

“You are staring.”

She jumped in her seat, nearly smacking her water bottle over in the process. “Oh. Sorry. Should I.. leave you be, then?” 

“It’s fine.” Satya walked her feet towards her hands, eventually touching the tips of her fingers to her toes. “You’re quiet, so I don’t mind you being here.”

Fareeha couldn’t help but smile at that. “Wait, I’m quiet?”

“You don’t talk simply to talk.” And Satya began to gradually bring her arms up until they were above her head, fingers outstretched and reaching towards the ceiling. “And you do not make me feel as though I need to speak.”

“Oh.” That was the third time she had said that in the past twenty minutes and part of her lauded her lack of interesting things to say. “Well, um... thank you?”

The other woman laughed brightly, and looked over her shoulder once more at Fareeha with an intense, but surprisingly warm look in her eyes. Maybe it was just the early morning softness of the lights. Yeah. That was it. “Forgive me. I don’t usually spend my mornings with others.”

"I don’t always either.” She said with a chuckle, taking her water bottle in hand and standing up all the same. “I really should get going though. I promised Winston I would help run drills at noon.”

“Ah. If you must.” Satya replied simply, and let her arms flutter down to her sides, letting out a heavy breath. “I will not keep you.”

“See you later, then. Enjoy your yoga.” Fareeha believed that to be the end of it, and began to make her way towards the door with a quick nod to the other, but then she heard the other speak up just as the door swished open. 

“The rain ruined your workout today, yes?” Satya mused absently, though Fareeha could see how her eyes were all but glued to the mat as she bent back into the wide V pose from before. “The next that happens, join me here. I can teach you what I know so you don’t have to stare at me the whole time.”

The offer took her greatly by surprise, and she grinned. “Sounds like a plan.”

[ornament-of-rhyme]

Hi! I read your Spazkins fanfictions and I think they're really adorable! Can you perhaps give us some headcanons about them?

Hi there! Despite what it may seem,considering how long it’s taken me to reply to you, I am goddamnstoked that you asked about this! (I am so sorry to keep you waiting,though.) Thank you for asking, and thank you very much for reading mystories. I’m happy you liked them.

As the length of this post can attest,I have a lot of feelings about these characters to share with anyonewho will listen, but I must confess that many of my headcanonsdevelop during the writing process. Seeing as I’ve only written acouple of short fics for this pair, I still haven’t developed myversion of them as much as I would like. However, I do have someheadcanons, both for these characters as individuals and as a couple.It’s entirely possible they’re not exactly interesting HCs,but they help me flesh out the characters as I continue working withthem.

Before I go on, I want to take a moment to state that these are only headcanons, interpretations, and observations, not things that I am trying to present as fact or push into fanon. I’m just having too much fun with these characters.

Since you read my stories youalready know, but for anyone else who stumbles upon this, when Iwrite these characters I use the names Gilbert “Gil” Braun akaSpaz, and Edwin "Eddie/Ed” Hopkins. I’m also throwing in a fewheadcanons about another background character in the film, listed inthe credits simply as Stick, though I call him Norman “Norm”James. In my mind, he’s Gil’s best friend, so he’s relevant toSpazkins in that way.

This cutie is Stick, by theway:

Now, on to the headcanons! Hopefully Ican put them in some sort of coherent order. (Note from future Orn:This post oscillates between being a disorganized essay and a list, but hopefully it’s intelligibleanyhow!)

I’ll start with Gil and Norm, seeing asI headcanon them as having known each other the longest out of thesethree. In fact, I like to think Norm was Gil’s first friend atWelton.Norm was given the nickname Stick by his peers becausehe is the smallest kid in their year. Seriously, look at the guy.

Stick indeed.

I began to associate him with Spazbecause the two of them are seen with the Poets multiple times in thefilm—including at meals, where they are the only two non-Poets atthat table. I imagine they have complementary personalities, and werefast friends because of it. Likely they were drawn to each otherbecause of the things people think are odd about them; namely, Gilhaving health problems and Norm being small and thin. I headcanonthat Gil and Norm are able to bond over being avid readers of sci-finovels and pulp fiction, and once they’re out of school they becomeequally eager viewers of The Twilight Zone. (The latter, Edwin findshimself enjoying as well.)

In my mind, Norm is related in some wayto Nolan. Grandfather, uncle—I don’t know how yet, but I amdetermined to work this into one of my future stories. Due to hisrelationship to the dean, he isn’t bullied like Gil, but he is teasedon occasion, as most boys know he isn’t the type to tell Nolan. (It’snot like he’s overly fond of the man, either.) The teasing he gets isnot as rude as that which Gil has received. But after a number ofyears at Welton, someone came along who did much to stomp out theworst of the bullying on Gil’s behalf…

Two years before the events of thefilm, Edwin Hopkins enrolled in Welton Academy and was assigned adorm room with Gilbert. It was tense at first, with Gil unsure how tointeract with someone so aloof and, according to how Edwin presentedhimself to his peers, apathetic. However, they slowly built up acompanionable relationship when Edwin began to take it upon himselfto blandly intimidate or retaliate against those who teased orbullied Gilbert. Edwin wouldn’t react violently, or even loudly, buthe knew how to get people to knock it off, if only temporarily.

At first, Edwin was taken in by Gil’smore awkward, innocent demeanor and became protective of him becauseof it, while Gil’s feelings developed as he floundered in surprisethat he is being defended by someone he would have expected topartake in the bullying. They started speaking more in their room,and their friendship developed from there.

After Edwin madeit known to others that Gilbert was under his wing, so to speak, thebullying generally eased into lighter teasing. Though it remained anissue for Gil, his time at Welton improved significantly with thischange.

And while Edwin is something of aguardian angel to Gil, Gil pulls his weight in the friendship.Gilbert is the voice of reason, the wiser mind, of the two boys. Heknows how to get Edwin to listen, to stop and think before doingsomething reckless or impulsive. He also takes care of Edwin in hisown ways; he makes sure Edwin is awake in the morning and doesn’tmiss breakfast, offers help with homework, puts in an effort to cheerEd up if he is brooding, and so on.

Edwin is surprisinglythoughtful when it comes to Gil’s needs as well. As I wrote in TheSickly and the Meathead, he even thinks to tell Gil where he’sputting aside his glasses, that way he doesn’t have to blindly searchfor them. This is because when it comes to something he cares about,Edwin is quite detail-oriented. This is also the case with hisinterest in carpentry (touched upon in Safe in the Boughs, as well aslater in this post.) He considers the little things, and he thinksahead. Along that same line, Edwin checks in with Gilbert to makesure he doesn’t miss any doses of medication. He does it so casually,one would think he’d been doing it for years. Gil might be puttingaway his clothes as Edwin works at his desk, and without turningaround Ed asks if he remembered to take his medicine. Gil says yes,because of course he remembered, Ed grunts in acknowledgment, andthat’s that. Gil thinks it’s sweet.

Another way Edwin expresses hisaffection is through gifts, and the best example of this is TheBlanket of ‘58. See, Gil has two more blankets on his bed than theother boys, but they don’t hold in heat well enough for him. Knowingthis, in late November of his second year at Welton, Edwin gives Gila heavy crochet blanket as an early Christmas present. His motherbegan working on the blanket the previous winter after Edwin wrylycommented that his roommate was likely to freeze to death during oneof the cold winter nights at Welton. Despite his typical stoicism,she saw his fondness for Gilbert early on and was eager to make ablanket for this friend who mattered enough to Edwin to be mentionedoutside the context of sports and class. Later, Gil’s mother wouldexpress her thanks to Mrs. Hopkins by inviting their family todinner, where the parents hit it off. It is this meeting thatinitiated the friendship between the Hopkins and Braun families.

Above all, Eddie is a man of actionover words, and thus it is through his actions that he mostfrequently expresses his affections. Touches, kisses, favors—whetherrequested or not—he makes it known to Gil how he feels. And hisfeelings can run deep, especially where Gilbert is concerned. Even ashe threw himself into building their tree house (featured in Safe inthe Boughs), Edwin more than once indulged in idea of one day havinga real house to share with Gilbert.

All that said, it isn’t entirelyunheard of for Edwin to verbally express his feelings to Gil. Termsof endearment they’ve come to use are simply “baby” (Edwinaddresses Gil as such, though it is in private and not too frequent)and “Eddie.” Edwin’s pals at Welton often refer to him asEddie, too, but he finds that Gil’s voice can make it ring with sucha level of emotional intimacy that it may as well be an entirelydifferent name.

Kissing was a bit difficult for them atfirst. It took the two of them a while to get used to heavy kissingdue to Gil’s braces, but eventually they learned how to work aroundit. Another problem that occasionally crops up is that Edwin is verygood at taking Gil’s breath away, and as nice as that sounds, Gilneeds as much as he can get because, of course, he suffers from SteveRogers Syndrome. That is to say, his medical records are expansive,but he’s not on the verge of death. He is even able to participate insports at Welton, but is given much leniency. Chess and croquet aremore his deal.

Alright, I feel like this would be agood time to talk about their hobbies and other activities.

I believe Hopkins may canonicallybe captain of the soccer team. Though if this is the case, why did heflub his kick in the poetry/soccer exercise? To joke around? I don’tknow. My jury’s out on this one, but I think it’s interesting. I’mmostly basing this theory on the shirt he wears in these scenes:

I don’t know a dingle damn thing about sport ball, but I’m pretty sure that shirt denotes something important.

(Along a similar vein, though it isn’tnecessarily relevant to this post, I believe Keating may be thecoach. He even has a history with soccer. According to his schoolannual, he was the captain of his soccer team for a bit.)

Along with soccer,I have a headcanon that Edwin has a passion for carpentry! It beganwhen, as a child, he was told that Jesus Christ had been a carpenter.Thinking that was rad as fuck, Ed took a strong interest in it. Eventhough his faith grew weaker over the years, he maintained his lovefor carpentry independently of that.

General aloofnessaside, Edwin also likes to joke around with and show off in front ofhis friends. He’s even willing to do so in front of authority figuresif he thinks he can get away with it. Though he doesn’t strike me as someonewho brazenly defies authority when he knows it will end inpunishment. Keating in particular has proven he is willing to put upwith Ed’s dumb shenanigans—though, as is shown in the movie, hedoesn’t appreciate or reward them. I agree with Keating’s jabs at thestunts he pulls. They’re not just disruptive, they’re lazy. I like toimagine that the laziness of the jokes is more of a bother to Keatingthan the fact that they’re happening in the middle of class.

As for Gil’spreferred activities, he is a pianist. The organ player at Weltonpicked up on his interest in the instrument, and offered to teachhim. Gil agreed, and discovered he enjoyed it. As he pursued theactivity outside of Welton, his family was able to procure a pianofor their home on which he continued to practice. He also enjoysbird-watching. (With this in mind, Edwin gives him a new pair ofbinoculars for his birthday one year. He doesn’t get the appeal ofthe activity, but Gil lights up when he talks about the birds, so Edhas no qualms humoring him.) And as I said before, Gil has fungeeking out with Norm over sci-fi.

Now for some stragglers:

-Gilbert’s fatherreminds me of George McFly. That’s all I have to say about that.

-Gilbert’smedications are kept in Hager’s office, so Gil has to visit him inthe morning and before bed to take his medicine.

-I can’t tell forsure if it’s true to life, but I like to imagine that Gil is tallerthan Ed.

-Edwinloves the silkiness of Gil’s hair, and Gil likes to card his fingersthrough Ed’s shorter 'do. And, though he doesn’t appreciate the cause,Ed thinks Gil’s consistently red nose is adorable.

-Edwin’s friendsat school are not a tight-knight group. Notice that as he smugly readhis Truly Great poem The Cat Sat On The Mat (coming to a poetry slam near you), Hopkins was looking for the reactions of some of the boys around his own desk. None of these boysstood at the end of the film. Not saying this is canon, but it makessense to me.

-Gil’smother embroiders handkerchiefs before gifting them to him. Some aremonogrammed, others are only patterns or simple images. He sometimesfinds it embarrassing, but she puts so much love into herembellishments that he has never spoken a word of dissent.

-And finally, if you manage to catch agood look at Hopkins in the film, he has some birthmarks on hisface–small indentations on the left side near his hairline, and aline coming off the outer edge of his right brow. Wait, I have ascreencap for this one, too!

Sometimeshe’s asked if they’re scars and what caused them, and just for kickshe comes up with a different answer each time. He doesn’t care thatpeople notice, and isn’t particularly self-conscious about them. Moreoften than not he only remembers they exist when Gil gathers theinitiative to press his lips to them.

And that’s my current lot of Spazkins headcanons!

Thankyou again for asking, iamidentical. Your question not only helped me think more complexly about these characters, but it also led to a new idea for a Spazkins fic. It felt good to share thesethoughts with you.