#my arm is visibly starting to atrophy again

[fernisfat]

just watched a coworker, and self proclaimed ally to the disabled community, go on at length about accommodations we should offer at work and then immediately turn around and refer to my motor function issues as “spazzing out” and imply that i take too long to navigate the schedule because i clicked on the wrong time slot one time 🙃

[madelineariah]

2023/April 7th - First Feelings

I first realized I was transgender when I was twelve years old.

Prior to this, I’d never really considered the difference between boys and girls. I spent a fair amount of time in elementary school having boys as friends and girls as friends. When I got to middle school, that was when the differences started to become more apparent for me. It led me to discover this superstition that if one could lick their own elbow, they could turn into the opposite gender.

When I realized I wanted this really badly for some reason, I began to scour the internet for answers. I found out that some animals could actually change sex during their life cycle, and then I found out that humans could change their physical appearance using hormones and/or surgery.

At fourteen, I came out to my parents. They didn’t take it well at first – thinking it was a phase. My teenage years were rough as result, and it wasn’t until age 18 that I was able to start living as a woman full-time. Thankfully, my parents became more accepting as I entered my 20s, and I am fortunate enough to be on good terms with them even now at 29.

It was at 26 that I changed my legal name and legal sex. Because my home state had allowed a change to non-binary, that was what I changed to. I did so because while I see myself as more female than male, I don’t feel like the binary has ever really fit me.

As I flesh out this blog, I am going to talk a lot about the challenges I faced starting in my teenage years and continuing all the way into the present. A lot of these memories are very painful for me, and finding the right words is going to be difficult at times.

Society has never been very kind to people like me. Many people assume the worst in me, and many others will only recognize me as a girl if they think I am attractive. This has led me to do many reckless and risky things to try and appear attractive to others – often with consequences to my health and well-being.

I feel like, in order to be comfortable in my own skin, certain conditions have had to be met:

My face needs to appear feminine at all times. I want my face to be as soft and smooth as possible, and I get very dysphoric when I have blemishes or if even the slightest amount of facial stubble is visible. One thing I didn’t mind about the pandemic was I could keep my face covered to hide the dysphoria I felt. As for the hair atop my head, I keep it longer in winter and shorter in summer, but I always agonize whether my hairstyle fits the shape of my face or not.

My arms and legs need to be smooth as well. Hair removal in these areas becomes an obsession for me. I often do not feel comfortable showing my legs, and I often wear tights under shorts to cover them up.

While I have conditioned my voice to be more feminine, I can’t help but feel like I sound like a smoker. I have a mid-tonal, nasally, almost throaty voice that is only mitigated by the inflections of my speech. Some people say they love my voice, but I can’t understand why.

At the core of my feminine self are the facets of flexibility and bodily motion. Women are naturally predisposed to a greater flexibility than men. As a child, I became obsessed with stretching – even after having spinal surgery (more on that in a future post). As I get older and my mobility atrophies due to some chronic health problems (again, more on that later), I become a lot more critical of my body and my “worth” as a transgirl. It has in the past led me to push my body to the point of injury, and I regret that I couldn’t stop myself from being that way.

Throughout my life, I have sought validation and approval from others by showing off my body to them. I can’t undo these actions, and I have to live with the fact it has shattered my self-worth more than it’s helped. When others reject me because of my body, it makes me feel like I don’t deserve to call myself a woman. Yet when people accept my body, it leads to me allowing those people to sexualize me and to take advantage of my vulnerabilities.

Throughout my life, I have considered myself an object for others to enjoy. I have dehumanized myself over and over again. It has taken me to some incredible extremes that I’m sure will raise a few eyebrows when I bring them up in the future.

Once you take all of that away, however… I don’t know what truly defines me as a woman. I am aware it has nothing to do with social roles – men can like girly things, and girls can like manly things. It’s like… being a woman is something that is intimately felt for me.

When I close my eyes and introspect upon my spirit and how it relates to the universe, there is a feminine shape which stands before me. There is a feminine self which resides within me and embodies the identity of Madeline Ariah. I feel affirmation in being perceived as feminine. The label of woman isn’t what makes that true for me, but it’s the closest thing I have to codifying that existence.

Even if I can’t be the ideal woman, I want to be the ideal me. I hope that isn’t too much to ask, to want, to strive for…

[uncanny-tranny]

I'm Now a Year On Testosterone: An Update

I'm a year on testosterone! As such, I decided it would be appropriate to celebrate with a long post outlining my experiences and how I've changed in the year. Click the read more, this will be a long post :)

Notice: Results will vary on testosterone. Your genetics (and dosage) play a big part in how your body is programmed to respond to either estrogen or testosterone. I'm not a doctor, and I am simply documenting my personal experiences in order to offer a new experience.

Dosage: 0.30mL/weekly, intramuscular

Physical Changes

Voice:

This is the voice chart throughout the year, and it's rather all over the place, mostly because of when/where I was recording the progress. I've got a pretty monotone voice, but the pitch does change depending on many factors.

Hair:

Head Hair: My hairline has not changed very noticeably, nor has the texture/growth rate of my head hair changed.

Body Hair: My body hair has grown in much more! I've grown more hair on my torso, such as on my chest and stomach

Facial Hair: I've noticed some inklings of facial hair, but it is mostly concentrated around my mouth and chin

Body:

Musculature: The prominence of my muscles doesn't seem to have changed for me (mostly because I'm putting off lifting weights again), but I have been told that my arms "look buff," so make of that what you will

Vasculature: The veins in my hands and arms have been prominent since I've started testosterone, sometimes in small areas, but it is still visible

Body Fat: My body shape hasn't changed much, but I think this is a mix of genetics and the fact that I simply haven't been on hormones long enough for anything to be noticeable. The men in my family have similar bodies to me, so I don't anticipate a ton of changes in this aspect of transition, even later down the road.

Smell/Sweat: I don't think the smell of my body changed per se, but I do think my natural scent got stronger, which is common. I've also noticed a little more sweat (which sucks because it's 99°F/32.7°C now)

Cycle/Menses: Menses stopped around the four-month mark, and it has consistently stopped. Note, though, that this doesn't change fertility.

Bottom Growth: Bottom growth has happened, and for me, it hasn't been painful whatsoever. I recommend investing in good undergarments of your preference, though. Make sure to keep that area clean.

Atrophy: Atrophy is a common experience, but so far, I don't think this has been an issue for me, personally. Atrophy is treatable, so if you suspect this is an issue, please read this article for more information

Mental Changes

Symptoms of Dysphoria: I've had dysphoria for much of my life, at varying levels. However, since starting testosterone, my dysphoria has been incredibly remedied. I know that things that would make me dysphoric either don't trigger my dysphoria or don't make me dysphoric.

Mental Health: My mental health has been much better, too! I've been less irritated, less angry, and less depressed. I do have other issues I need to sort out, and I've still got clinical depression. But I don't have as much dysphoria-related feelings bogging me down. I feel much more free

Sexuality: I'm putting this here because as my dysphoria and shame lessens, my sexuality feels more nuanced. I still identify as aroace, but I think I need to explore how I feel more.

End Note: I've included as much as I could and as much as I was able to remember. If you have further questions or you want me to expand upon this, feel free to send me an ask. I can clarify and offer more information if you'd like. Testosterone is not a requirement to be trans or to be transmasculine or a trans man, there is no shame in taking testosterone temporarily, permanently, or never taking it at all. It is up to you (not others) to decide if/when it is right to go on testosterone therapy and if you only want to take it temporarily or permanently.

[her0brine]

What do you think the potions taste like? (You can do a handful you don't gotta do all of them)

I was honestly going to write something about this!!! This is the perfect excuse for me to finally finish the list that I had in my drafts 🤣 I also added what happens to a user if they drink any of these potions, and their physical sensations!

Awkward/Mundane/Thick: Depending on what main starting ingredient used (Nether wart, sugar, etc), it usually ends up just tasting like tainted water. It usually isn’t really appetizing, but it at least has no negative effects on the user who drank it.

Healing: Upon drinking it, the user will notice that it tastes like VERY rich watermelon, with very little notes of water in it. Soon, a warm sensation takes over their entire body, along with any wounds on them now immediately healing themselves by quickly growing new flesh or fixing broken blood vessels. The sensation is best compared to the feeling of being smothered by a recently heated up blanket, except it’s felt in your insides, not on your skin.

Fire Resistance: The flavor is best said to be quite citrusy, and the consistency of the liquid is more akin to a smoothie due to the creamy texture of using magma creme. After consuming it, the user will suddenly feel extreme heat in their body, easily exceeding 98°F. Ironically, the negative effects of exceeding that body temperature will not appear, and not even sweating will occur. It is still quite uncomfortable to be physically so hot, but if you’re using this potion in the first place, it’s safe to say you’re directly exposing yourself to even more intense temperatures, so the fever-like heat pales in comparison.

Regeneration: Basically the same to the physical sensation and effects of the Potion of Healing, but it tastes more like lukewarm salt water instead of the pure and strong tasting watermelon flavor. The healing factor is lightly longer as well, along with the user feeling more energized and upbeat.

Strength: As blaze powder is the main ingredient in this potion, it tastes like metal flakes mixed with hot water. It is not very tasty at all, and it even tastes like old copper, depending on who’s opinion you get. After drinking it, it is common to see a user suddenly tremble as more defined muscle mass develops across their entire body. This is more of a cosmetic effect, as the potion’s effect seems to focus more on arm strength than leg or core body strength, even though muscle mass still grows in those areas. When the potion wears off, the user will essentially deflate back to normal, implying that the suddenly gained muscle mass is akin to water weight.

Swiftness: Sugar water. It’s literally just sugar water. It literally makes it’s user run faster by making them develop a unnaturally high sugar rush, but there is no negative effect such as crashing when it wears off thankfully.

Night Vision: A very ‘filling’ potion, as it tends to make the user feel physically full after drinking it, due to how rich the flavor of carrot it is in it. It too is also quite thick, but more similar to jam than a smoothie. After drinking it, the user’s eyes will severely dilate, along with being incredibly reflective, even in lowlight situations. It is slightly disorienting when it wears off, as their vision will revert back to the way it should be.

Invisibility: Probably one of the more ‘acquired taste’ potions, due to fermented spider eyes being it’s main ingredient. It’s physically quite chunky, and just straight up tastes like rotten blood mixed with yeasty wine. Not only the flavor is intensely vile, but the effect inflicted on it’s user can actually cause some to pass out from the overwhelming sensation. A sharp cold chill will fully envelop it’s user, as it basically mutates their entire body to come off as invisible to any living being. Sometimes the frostbite-like sensation is so severe, some users have suffered heart attacks, panic attacks, or any other sort of medical emergency as the transformation takes place. Then again, this is a potion who’s effect is so potent that it ‘jumps’ across the user’s body to also transform their clothes into being invisible. Only users who have endured turning invisible by other methods (being shot by a arrow of invisibility or being cursed by a Illusioner for example) can mentally and physically handle drinking such a dreadful potion.

Water Breathing: One of the most popular potions out there, due to it’s extreme viability in water biomes, it of course uses a oceanic fish for it’s main ingredient. However since it uses pufferfish instead of cod or tropical fish, the flavor tastes like stripped clean pufferfish meat that was dunked in a bucket of warm saltwater. At least the water-heavy nature of this potion means it goes down quickly, and after numerous uses, a user can get used to the weird ‘fishy’ taste. It too temporarily mutates the user’s body by modifying their lungs to be able to process water, along with making small gills form on the sides of their neck. The pain is minor when this occurs, and isn’t as extremely overbearing when compared to the Potion of Invisibility. The augmented lungs and gills fade away after the potion wears off.

Leaping: Similar to the ‘meat being dunked in water’ taste the Potion of Water Breathing has, this potion instead tastes like rabbit meat that marinated in chilled freshwater. Similar to how the Potion of Strength can physically mutate the user’s muscle mass, this one makes the user’s legs more slender but still muscular, allowing them to have a increased jump height. Trembling is more minimal, as it does not effect the user’s entire body.

Slow falling: Certainty one of the more odder potions, due to both it’s main ingredient and it’s effect. The phantom membrane used in it is quite leathery, but also equally quite powdery when it’s processed. The flavor is hard to pin down, but it’s generally agreed upon it’s users to taste along the lines of chalk mixed with slightly salty water. It seems like no physical transformation occurs to the user’s body, and instead they’re ‘enveloped’ by a aura that allows them to gracefully fall to the ground if they fell from a tall height. The slightly visible aura fades away when the potion wears off.

Poison: Nobody in their right mind would willingly consume this potion, but if one were forced to drink it, it just tastes like blood and bile. Almost immediately after drinking it, it will immediately poison it’s user and make them suffer intense sharp pain in their insides, and even some nausea.

Weakness: Having nearly the same disgusting taste as the Potion of Invisibility, except it of course doesn’t turn it’s user invisible. It instead makes them feel fatigued, as they quickly become physically gaunt and tired. Any body mass that got effected by this potion is partially wasted away by sudden muscle atrophy and is permanently lost, even after the potion wears off. Because of this, it’s quite dangerous to be afflicted by it, especially after multiple uses in a row.

Harming: It too has the exact same taste of the Potion of Weakness, except it’s effect is ABSOLUTELY GUT WRENCHING. Upon drinking it, it’s user will instantly double over in complete agony, as their guts are literally ravaged from the inside. Drinking this is akin to drinking pure acid, especially as it’s main side effect is making it’s user vomit blood profusely, along with internal bleeding. It is a highly fatal potion, and should NOT be drunk at all costs.

Slowness: At this point, you should already know that any potion that uses a spider eye as it’s base ingredient will probably taste disgusting. This potion is thankfully one of the ‘less’ painful ones in the whole series that uses spider eyes, as it doesn’t cause extreme internal pain or damage to it’s user. It instead makes them physically bloated and fatigued, which in turn makes it uncomfortable to them to walk around. The bloating passes away when it wears off, but can leave it’s user still feel quite queasy and even sleepy.

Turtle Master: One of the ‘newer’ potions to be made, it features a very unorthodox base ingredient, a turtle shell. It tastes like a mixture of turtle meat and keratin, which makes it feel starchy and salty. It’s kinda..... chicken flavored but not in a good way, but at least in terms of texture, it goes down easy as it’s very watery. As one of the primary effects is slowness, the user will experience bloating, but the additional effect of resistance will cause the user’s skin to thicken up and become quite leathery, in order to become more protected. The change to the user’s skin will fade away, but it’s recommended to slather some lotion on, to potentially avoid having some of the affected skin still partially retaining it’s leatheriness.

[p-artsypants]

Longest Night (41) Humbugging

FF.net | Ao3

“You better not be naked!” Was the only warning Marinette and Adrien got before the blanket was ripped off. 

“Oh good, I don’t know what I would have done if you were.” 

Marinette rolled over to look at the interloper. A blonde, hands on her hips, and looking down at them with a superior smirk.

“Chloe?” 

“In the flesh! Now, I know you missed your number one fan, but Gabriel was hesitant to let me visit while you were in the hospital. Something about being ‘too excited’ and ‘physically rough’. Naturally, I consented to wait, because I’m self-sacrificing and I knew I’d leap on my Adrikins the moment I saw him!” 

Adrien grunted, and pulled Marinette closer to him, still very tired. 

“Why are you here?” Marinette asked, not hiding the irritation in her voice. 

“Because it’s Christmas Eve and I was invited!” 

“No, I meant, why are you here in Adrien’s room, this early in the morning?” 

“As I said, it’s Christmas Eve. We’re having a big party and I’m going to give you a makeover!” 

“Like hell you are.” 

“What, you don’t expect to have dinner with Jagged Stone, Gabriel Agreste, and moi in your pajamas do you?”

“It’s not comfortable to wear anything else right now.”

“A poor excuse.” 

Marinette scoffed. “Chloe, get out of my face. Get out of this room! Don’t you dare think you can boss me around!”

Not one to be impressed by anger, Chloe huffed and turned to Adrien. “Adrikins, do you believe this? I’m here to help and she just…spits in my face!” 

Adrien did not share her sentiment, as he growled at her in disapproval. 

Chloe deflated. “Look…Do you want me to get sappy? Cause I will. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care, okay? Ladybug gave me a chance and was patient with me, even when I was mean to Marinette. I owe you a lot. So just...let me do this.” Then she grimaced. “Please?” 

Marinette let out a groan. “Ugh, fine. But take it easy on me, okay?” 

“Just going to do your hair and a little make up, and I brought this outfit over that you’re going to look fab in!!” 

“Can’t wait.” She said dully. 

—

Truth be told, it really wasn’t all that bad. The dress Chloé brought was gorgeous, a black base with a red lace overlay. It was comfortable and fit just a little loose, though would have fit her perfectly if she was at her normal weight. 

“I was going to bring you Louboutin heels, but Alya said you had stitches on the bottom of your feet. Naturally, I protested because you know as well as I that beauty is pain. But I suppose you can just wear them some other time. I’m expecting you to, you hear me?”

“You want to give me louboutins? Knowing my knack for tripping on a flat surface?” 

“Oh puh-lease. Louboutins are designed for Ladybug! Black and red? Fierce? And besides, if you do fall on your face, that will just make me even happier!” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

Chloe was surprisingly gentle when styling her hair. She curled it and pinned it elegantly. 

The shaved side of her head still had ‘Cochon’ tattooed on it. Not much to do about it at this stage, but her hair was dark enough and had grown a bit so it was a little harder to see. 

“I think I’ll give you Smokey eye! Cover up those bags, and really make those sapphires pop!” 

“If you say so. Just don’t stab my eyeball.” 

“No promises!” 

As Chloe carefully applied the eye shadow, she spoke, “you know, I never believed for a second that you took naked pictures of Adrien back then.” 

Marinette rolled her eyes, though the action went unnoticed. “Sure. Because you were so supportive back then.” 

“I was plenty supportive!” 

“Chloe, if you want to pretend you’re a good person now, fine. Good for you. But I spend a month in silence, reliving that moment in the classroom over and over again. You mocked me, just like everyone else. Don’t try to rewrite history.”

“Mocking people is a reflex. No matter if I agree with them or not. It’s what I do.”

Marinette gave a defeated shrug. “I guess I believe that much.” She shook her head and pulled away from Chloe’s makeup brush, “but, look. I can see what’s happening here, and I’m going to warn you now. You all of a sudden want to be friends with me because you found out I was Ladybug. You hate me. You’ve said it several times before, right to my face. You’ve purposefully gotten me in trouble just for kicks. And now, you’re trying to just sweep it under the rug. I understand guilt. I understand gratitude towards Ladybug. But we’re not friends. I have a lot of hurt and anger from the past that I’m not just letting go. Right now, I need real friends around me. And so does Adrien. So if you’re here for clout, or in it for personal gain, and I find out? You will never speak to Adrien or I again. Do I make myself clear?” 

Chloe shrunk at the tone. Though Marinette hadn’t really given her a warm reception at any point of the day, the raw venom that dripped from her lips was so sharp, so vile, that it was repulsive. She didn’t sound like Marinette or Ladybug. 

Chloe didn’t say anything for a moment, but finished applying the makeup. Then she calmly and quietly put her supplies away. 

“Marinette…you make me want to be a better person. I…I was jealous. You always had friends and a warm family and just…well, everyone liked you, and you made it look effortless. So, I’m…I’m sorry.” Chloe clenched her eyes tight, willing the tears to stay back. But it didn’t work. “The day you were taken…” She croaked. “Alya and some other classmates came to the hotel and asked if I had seen you. I laughed then. I told them that if you had run away, then it was good, because you wouldn’t have to deal with a bunch of greedy idiots. I said I was glad you were gone. But then…then I saw Ladybug and Chat Noir…” 

Marinette had only ever seen Chloe break down crying like this once, and it was while she was Ladybug. Back then, she had pulled the truth out of her like an abscessed tooth. But this time, the truth was bursting from her, like she had been holding it in from that very moment. 

“As soon as that…that woman took off your mask, I knew I had messed up. I was so ashamed of everything I ever did. I wanted Ladybug to respect me so much, and I just treated you like dirt. My…resentment of you would just not leave…and Adrien—“ She wasn’t able to finish that thought as she just broke down. She cried and cried as Marinette just sat and watched. 

Finally, after many minutes, Chloe’s cries started to subside, and Marinette just wadded up some toilet paper for her to dry her eyes with. 

Chloe took it graciously. “I came here with a plan, you know. I was going to take charge. Not take no for an answer. Like trying to give a cat a bath. But under no circumstances was I supposed to think about what happened on the stream.” 

“Didn’t work out, huh?”

“My plans never do.” 

“Well. Your tears certainly seemed genuine enough. Thank you for apologizing. This doesn’t mean we’re friends, but it doesn’t mean we never will be.” 

Marinette should have braced herself for the incoming hug, but dealing with Chloe was anyways a crap shot.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!!”

“Sure, let me go.” 

—

Once Marinette was all dolled up, she and Chloe came out of the bathroom for the big reveal to Adrien. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, and sat up a little straighter at Marinette’s appearance. His eyes widened with unshed tears as he mouth opened slightly. 

“That bad, huh?”

He opened his arms, beckoning her to him. 

She obliged, standing between his legs so he could press himself against her stomach. She patted his head. 

“You didn’t think you’d get out of a makeover too, did you?” Chloe asked, trying to get her bossy attitude back. 

Adrien looked up at her, slightly afraid. 

“I’ll have to help you with him, Chloe.” Marinette added. “He’s still too weak to stand on his own.” 

“Fine then!” She went to the dress bag she had brought along and took out Adrien’s outfit. “Here we go!” 

It was a lovely black cashmere sweater, with neon green pinstripes. But the pants were white. 

“He can’t wear those pants Chloe.” 

“And why not? He looks good in white pants!” 

“It’s not that…his skin graft…” 

“On his back though? That’s why the sweater is black!” 

Marinette sighed. “Where do you think they got the skin for the graft?” 

“Oh.”

“Not that he is actively bleeding down there, but his bandages do leak. It’s best if he wears black. 

“Yeah, okay,” she relented pretty quickly. She put the white pants away and went into Adrien’s closet in search of black slacks. 

While she was away, Marinette helped Adrien out of his pajamas. It was slow work with the stitches in his back. First his sweatshirt was removed, then his shirt. Then Marinette held him up as he shucked off his sweatpants. 

Chloe returned when he was down to his underwear. 

She nearly shrieked. 

Adrien flinched at the sound, and coiled closer to Marinette. 

“It’s alright, she was just startled,” Marinette soothed. Then turning to Chloe, “You’ve seen him naked before, there’s nothing to be startled about.” 

“I-I know…I just…his sweatshirt hid…” She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to. 

Both Marinette and Adrien lost a substantial amount of weight in solitary, due to starvation and atrophy. But since Adrien was so tall, he looked much worse. Chloe could wrap her hand around his forearm and touch her fingers. 

It wasn’t the worst that they looked, but it still wasn’t great. There was a long road of recovery left. 

Getting Adrien dressed was easier, since Chloe had been able to help. She just gave him a little foundation to cover the bags around his eyes. Then she gelled his hair to look a little neater, sort of how it used to be. 

But with blond hair, the word ‘chatte’ was still clearly visible on the side of his head. 

“Are…you guys planning on getting those tattoos lasered off?”

Absently, Marinette scratched her tattoo too. “I might just leave mine. I don’t plan on shaving my head like this again, and my hair is dark enough, it will be covered. Otherwise, I’d have to keep it shaved the entire time it’s being lasered. And it’s not a one and done deal. I talked to my doctor about it. It’d be a couple sessions over several weeks…I just don’t think it’s worth it.” 

“And Adrien?”

He just shrugged.

“I guess we’ll just see how it looks once his hair grows back in fully.”

There was another knock at the door. “Are my kiddos decent?” Asked Tom.

“Yes papa. Come in.” 

Tom entered, and then cooed when he saw them. “Oh pumpkin! You both look wonderful!” 

“Thank you papa.” 

“Here, mama thought you might want to wear these.” He held out two plush pairs of house slippers.

“Oh, those look comfortable!” She dropped her pair on the floor and scooted into them, while Chloe helped Adrien put his on. 

“Ready to go down? The Cesaire’s are here and I heard Jagged’s on his way.” 

“I’m ready, are you Kitty?”

Adrien gave a curt nod. 

“Chloe, could you help me down the stairs? My dad has to carry Adrien.”

“O-oh, yeah, sure.” 

The lobby was alive with merriment. Ella and Etta ran around playing tag with Alya and Nino, while Gabriel, Sabine, Roland, Gina, Otis, and the Gorilla shared coffee and croissants. 

As soon as Marinette and Adrien started down the stairs, a pair of colorful blobs whirled over to them, revealing to be Tikki and Plagg. 

“Ahhhh Christmas! A holiday of great food!” Cheered Plagg, “I think I’ll take my first nap in my favorite spot!” And he curled up on top of Adrien’s head. 

Tikki looked fondly over her chosen. “You look really pretty Marinette!” 

“I clean up well.” 

 “You can bring Adrien right over here Tom.” Said Gabriel, gesturing to an open spot on a loveseat. 

Gingerly, Tom sat him down and brought over an ottoman so he could put his feet up. 

The game of tag had ended. 

“Girl, your dress is so cute! It looks perfect on you!” 

“That would be Chloe’s doing,” Marinette tilted her head in Chloe’s direction. 

“Are you comfortable enough?” Sabine asked. 

“I am for now.” 

Alya went to call her sisters over, but they were nowhere to be seen. 

“Ella? Etta? Where did you guys go? It’s not polite to snoop around someone else’s house!” 

“We’re not snooping.” Said a tiny voice. 

Alya peered over the banister to see her sisters peeking through the stair railing, looking at Marinette and Adrien. “It’s okay,” she assured. “It’s just Marinette and Adrien. I know they look kind of scary, but they’re okay now.” 

“Do they know?” Marinette asked, settling on the couch next to Adrien. “Who we are?” 

“You’re Ladybug and Chat Noir,” Said Ella. 

“And you were kidnapped and tortured,” Added Etta.

“We didn’t let them watch the stream,” Otis clarified. “But we were very open about what was happening. They were getting questions at school, since all their classmates know Alya runs the blog.” 

“Ah, I remember now.” Marinette spoke, as the forgotten night’s memory returned once again. “Lady Lacrima and Grimalkin paid your apartment a visit.” 

“What?!” Cried Alya. “When did this happen?! Why didn’t you tell me, dad?!” 

“They came and went before we could do anything. Your mother gave them some food...it was really in your best interest you weren’t there.” 

“But we were looking for them!” 

“And we were looking for you, Alya.” Marinette said calmly. “But not in a good way, I’m afraid.” 

“Me? You were…I was one of the people you wanted to hurt?” 

Marinette frowned, still caught up in a lot of bitterness. “In solitude, my annoyance with you and the class became…something of an obsession. I felt so hurt, so betrayed by my own support network that it drove me a little insane. I convinced myself that you didn’t care about me. I know now that that was misguided. And even if I was truly angry at you and you had done something wrong, I never would have hurt you. It was only because I was akumatized that I sought you out with malicious intent. Can you forgive me?” 

“Of course girl! I know as well as you do that akumas act against their will.” 

Marinette screwed up her lips. “I just remembered…when we were akumatized, Hawkmoth asked us to go home and heal, no Miraculous required. He knows our identities, and he could easily overwhelm us. I can only wonder why he hasn’t contacted us yet. He was never above taking cheap shots.”

Unseen to Marinette, Gabriel took a sip of his coffee, hiding his sheepish face in his mug. 

“Maybe he feels guilty?” Sabine asked, helpfully. 

“Maybe.” Marinette sighed, scooting a little closer to Adrien. “At any rate, I’d like to thank him. He saved us. Or, rather, gave us the ability to save ourselves. Whether or not he is still after the Miraculous, he still saved our lives.”

Ella and Etta had started to creep closer, still keeping a healthy distance as the adults talked. 

Marinette noticed and looked right at them, making them recoil slightly. 

“You don’t have to be afraid.” She said calmly, “but you don’t have to accept us. If you’d rather stay away, that’s fine. I’d understand after how badly we scared you.” 

“You remember?” 

“Yes. It didn’t happen right away, but we remember it all now.” 

“Wow, cool.” This seemed to intrigue them more than push them away. “We don’t remember what it was like being Sapotis.” 

“Is it because you’re Ladybug?” 

Marinette shrugged. “We don’t know why we remember, it just sort of happened.” 

“Ella, Etta,” Otis scolded. “Don’t smother them.” 

“But daddy--“

Before anymore arguments could happen, the front doors banged open, making Adrien and Marinette jump in fear. 

“Who’s ready to Rock and Roll!?” A voice shouted before a guitar riff filled the air. 

Adrien and Marinette relaxed slightly, but still on edge because of the noise. 

“Do you not know how to knock?” Asked Gabriel. 

But Jagged ignored it. “Christmas! My favorite time of the year! And I can’t wait to spend it with my favorite artist and model!”

Marinette gave him a fond smile. “Hello Jagged.” 

“There she is! The most beautiful girl in Paris! How are you, love?”

“I’m getting there.”

“Can’t ask for more than that, hmm? And you Adrien? You doing better?”

He shrugged. 

“Fair enough. Now,” he gestured Penny forward. “I have a gift for both of you, since it is Christmas.” 

“You didn’t have to, Jagged.”

“Sure I didn’t have to, what’s the fun in that? Here,” he handed them both shiny wrapped squares. “Open them now, I’m dying to see your faces!” 

Marinette smiled gently and unwrapped the gift. Inside was a CD case. “Lady Luck? What’s this?”

“Its my new album! A complete surprise that I’m going to drop next week, and you get advanced signed copies!” 

“This is wonderful, Jagged. Thank you!”

“And the best part,” he paused for emphasis. “All the songs are about you and Chat Noir! Your powers, akumas you fought, things you’ve said…it’s been in the works for a while. You’re very inspiring, Marinette.” 

Looking at the track listings, it was evident where he had pulled inspiration from. ‘Lucky’ ‘Cataclysm’ ‘My Lady’ ‘A bit of string and a paperclip’.

“I can’t wait to listen to it.” She said honestly.

Adrien nodded in agreement. 

The dining room doors opened, and Marlena entered. “Lunch is served!” 

--

Brown sugar glazed ham, potatoes AU gratin, fresh croissants and rolls, green beans, and a desert of ribbon jello. 

A feast! 

Adrien picked at his food, his stomach clenching in unpleasant ways. He was hungry at first, but quickly became full and then nauseous. Marinette wasn’t too far behind. 

They just weren’t used to good food. 

“Are you alright?” Sabine asked gently. “You’ve barely touched your food.” 

“My stomach hurts.” She said as she set her silverware down. Adrien did the same. 

“Do you not like ham?” Asked Marlena. “I can make you something else.” 

“No no, it’s amazing! I just…I think I’m full. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright. There will be leftovers.” 

Adrien twisted in his chair, trying to keep the weight off of his wounds. This chair was just not comfortable. 

“Do you want to go sit in the living room?” Sabine asked. “I can bring you some sprite and saltines.” 

“Yeah, I think that might help.” 

Tom stood and came over to help Adrien. They both went to the living room, and sat down on the couch. 

Adrien instantly felt better. 

“Here’s the remote,” Tom said, handing it to her. “We’ll join you when we finish lunch, alright?”

“Take your time. We’ll just get started on the Christmas movie marathon.” 

Adrien pointed at a blanket draped over a chair and grunted. 

“Cold?” 

He whimpered. 

“Okay, let’s get this for you.” Tom unfurled the blanket and draped it over both of them. “There, nice and snuggly buggly.” 

“Thanks papa.” 

“Of course my little ginger snap.” He kissed her head.

Adrien whimpered again. 

“And you too, my little sea salt caramel macaron.” He also gave Adrien a kiss to the forehead. 

Adrien smiled. 

Not too far behind was Sabine with two glasses of sprite, a jar of tums, and a sleeve of saltine crackers. “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t even think that your stomachs might not handle heavy food like that.” 

“It’s alright. I wanted to eat all of that. And it was wonderful. A few tums and a nap, and I’ll be fine.” 

Adrien was already settling for a winter’s nap, as he pulled the blanket up to his chin and closed his eyes. 

Marinette took some antacid, a few sips of sprite, and then laid her head on his shoulder. She flipped through the channels to find a station marathoning Christmas movies, and just let herself relax and enjoy the afternoon. 

Keep the change, ya filthy animal. 

—

At some point, Marinette vaguely recognized the Grinch song playing and blinked to wakefulness. She had fallen asleep on Adrien’s shoulder as he slept on her. Alya was next to her on the couch, and Nino was next to her. 

Everyone was in the room, some asleep in chairs, while most watched the movie. 

“Hey sleepyhead,” Alya said softly as Marinette rose to wakefulness. “Feeling better?”

“A bit.” Marinette admitted.

Adrien also shifted with the noise, sitting up and wincing. 

“You alright, Honey?” Sabine asked as she noticed his facial expression. 

He tapped on his wrist twice, the sign they had made up for him to use whenever he needed medicine. 

Sabine nodded patiently and left to get it. 

“So, Nino’s going to have to take off soon.” Alya began. 

“We celebrate with my mom’s side of the family on Christmas Eve, and then my dad’s side on Christmas day. I would like to spend more time here, but I don’t see them often...” He rubbed the back of his neck. 

“It’s alright, Nino. I understand.”

“But before he goes…” Alya stood and put her hands on her hips. “Your dad said we have to find a pickle.” 

Adrien scrunched up his face as he looked at her. 

“That’s the same reaction I had, Sunshine.” Alya laughed. “He didn’t explain anything! He just said it was tradition and you specifically asked for it!” 

Marinette smiled. “It’s not an actual pickle, just a glass ornament.” 

“Okay, and it’s hidden?” 

“Yes, papa hides it, and then mama and I look for it. Whoever finds it, gets a prize.” 

“Why have I never heard of this before?” Asked Nino. “I want to win a prize!”

“I guess I never thought of it before. We’ve just always done it.” 

“The pickle is somewhere in the lobby,” Tom explained. “If it gets too hard, we can do hot and cold.”  

The players included Marinette, Alya, Nino, Chloe, Ella and Etta, and Jagged. Adrien was moved to a nearby chair to watch the whole thing unfold, his father sitting at his side. 

“It's odd to watch people tear our house apart over a pickle.” Stated Gabriel, watching as one of the twins tipped a priceless vase over very carefully to look inside. Luckily, she righted it a moment later without incident. 

Adrien watched for a few minutes, getting antsy. 

“Do you want to join?” Asked Plagg, sitting on his shoulder. 

Adrien nodded.

“I can make that happen.” 

Adrien’s eyes widened minutely at the insinuation. Surely, for something like this it would be okay…with an almost inaudible murmur, a flash of green took the room and grabbed the attention of everyone in it. 

Chat Noir stood shakily on stronger legs. 

“Adrien?” Gabriel asked with concern. 

Adrien simply pointed at the others and whined. 

“I…suppose there’s no harm in it. Just don’t over exert yourself.” 

Thrilled, Adrien toddled over to a corner of the room and started to search through a bookshelf close to the front door. 

A little tug on his tail pulled his attention away. 

It was Marinette of course, looking at him so smugly. “You know you’re standing under mistletoe, right kitty?” 

Chat looked up, noting that there was a sprig of mistletoe above his head, before the secondary thought of ‘is that a pickle?’ hit his brain. 

But by then, Marinette already had her arms around his neck and was pulling him down to her. 

Kissing Adrien would never get old. Not in a million years would she deny his taste, his touch, his scent. His claws delicately caressed her back, walking up her spine and sending shivers down to her toes. 

Distantly, she heard someone make a gagging noise before she pulled away. 

When she opened her eyes, he held a glass pickle right in front of her nose.

“Well, well, looks like we have a winner.” She smiled. 

Chat just shrugged, put the ornament on the shelf, and went back in for another kiss.

—

It was late. Today had been hectic, but definitely worth it. Tomorrow, they would all gather in the living room and open all the gifts fans had sent. Tom was making coffee cake, and Adrien and Marinette had a pair of matching sweaters that said, “why is the carpet all wet, Todd?” “I don’t know, Margo.” 

It was all very soft and warm and exactly what the kids needed. 

But there was still a lot of uncertainty on the horizon, mainly regarding Hawkmoth. He owed it to them to come clean, but Gabriel was hesitant to say anything. Despite the encouraging progress they were making, he still clearly saw the instability. One wrong move, and they would both shut down. 

His phone pinged with a new email. 

Or rather, an old email. An address he hadn’t seen in a long time, and immediately brought tears to his eyes.

My darling Gabriel,

I finally walked to the village on my own. The monks have cleared me to leave. Nathalie is preparing the return trip, though it looks like it should be a few weeks away.

I miss you and Adrien greatly, though I’m sure not as much as you miss me. Nathalie told me the basics of what happened, and I am prepared for the worst, I suppose. I understand if I won’t be able to see Adrien right away. I always want what’s best for him. 

Just tell me what to do. 

And I think I deserve an explanation. I heard you’ve been naughty while I’ve been gone. But I would prefer to discuss this in person. 

Either way, I love you, and Merry Christmas.

Love, 

Emilie

[maxmundan]

Tina and I are attending the trial of accused murderer and pedophile Roy Dadio. I have no idea how we were able to get seats for this thing as it is the biggest trial that’s been held in California for many years. Dadio stands charged with 17 murders and an even larger number of child sexual assaults. The details of the case, elaborated daily in the local newspaper, have been lurid and disgusting, with Dadio slaughtering entire families so he could kidnap a child he has targeted. He then imprisoned the children and raped them repeatedly over a number of years before he was finally caught. It is my understanding that this trial is a fait accompli. Dadio has not confessed yet to the crimes he is accused of, but the children were found chained in the basement of his house in the Palmdale area and several of the children are expected to testify to the unending abuse they suffered at his hands. Those of us in attendance in the viewing area are here to see a monster like Dadio get what is coming for him. Dadio is a strangely imposing figure. He is a tiny, weaselly man in his fifties with a greasy scalp almost entirely empty of hair. A few wayward sprigs branch out here and there, but they are disquieting in such a way that they make you wish there were no hairs at all. He’s wearing an orange jumpsuit now, but when he was arrested, and in all the now famous photographs of him, he was dressed in his signature filthy blue jean overalls without a shirt, his pasty white flesh and bulbous stomach protruding and plainly visible. Today’s testimony was by a young boy of 11 or 12 named Carl. I know they mentioned his age but neither Tina nor I can remember what it was. It seems like a weird thing to block out but neither of us can remember it for the life of us. Carl is a very withdrawn child and the prosecuting attorneys have been having a very hard time getting him to speak up so that the jury can hear him. Those of us watching have had to strain mightily to hear his words ourselves. The story he tells, however, is outrageous. He claims to have watched Dadio murder his parents and sister with a pick axe and a bone saw and then spent the next several years chained in Dadio’s basement, where he was fed nothing but stale bread and maggoty canned meat and was regularly raped and beaten by Dadio at alternating intervals. Carl has spent the entire day relating these details in a shallow, whispered voice with tears streaming down his face. It is simply impossible to watch him and not be moved to tears yourself, and both Tina and I have been crying our eyes out all day, so that when we walk out of the courtroom at the end of the day, our faces are red, and our eyes burn from rubbing them with our fingers. So, Tina and I are now standing outside the courtroom discussing the case and today’s testimony when, to the shock of us both, Dadio walks out of the courtroom completely unencumbered by handcuff or police escort of any kind. He is a completely free man, at least for this moment. This makes absolutely zero sense, of course, for a lot of reasons, least of which is that his trial has barely begun, and to the understanding of Tina and I, was supposed to be being held without bail because of the horrible nature of his accused crimes. Nevertheless, there he is, striding out of the courtroom with a shit-eating-grin on his face like he owns the fucking place. Dadio stops for a second just outside the courtroom door to cast his glance around the area looking for all the world like a man observing the length and breadth of his kingdom. Both Tina and I are just watching him with our mouths wide open but nobody else seems to even notice, just going about their business as if nothing remarkable is transpiring in front of them. After scanning the entire area outside the courtroom, Dadio’s gaze falls, to my dismay, on my wife and me. His smile widens with a sort of oily, festering recognition as he fixes us inexorably with his vicious stare and begins to saunter across the room directly toward us. As he gets closer I see that his interest is entirely on Tina. He doesn’t notice me at all. It is as if I am not even there. Every bit of his attention is focused on my wife. You can feel the lust and desire coming off of him in waves as he walks straight up to her. Hell, you can fucking smell his lust like he’s releasing a cloud of it into the air. He stops right in front of Tina, and without saying a word, winks luridly at her. I am frozen in place. I know I should do something, say something, but I am frozen in place. It isn’t fear that is paralyzing me but shock. This should not be happening. Why is it happening? Where are the police to take this scumbag and put him back in his cell where he belongs? Suddenly, he reaches out to grab Tina by the waist and pulls her body hard against his. As he does this he lets out a cacophonous cackle that has a similar effect to nails being scraped across a chalkboard. I glance at Tina and aside from the look of incomprehensible horror on her face, I can see that she is experiencing the same atrophy of her limbs and body that I am. Luckily, at that very moment, my frozen muscles are freed from their impotence, and I am able to leap across the room at Dadio, ripping him away from Tina and pummeling his now rigid and strangely pulsating body into the ground. I punch him repeatedly in the face. Over and over again I hit him until my fists are bloody and I start to see pieces of tooth flying wildly though the air in reverse trajectory form the arc of my punches. At the same time, I am screaming at him, “You will not touch my wife. You will not fucking touch my wife.” I have no idea where this level of rage is coming from. It seems to have appeared from nowhere. I can’t remember feeling even mildly angry before I attacked this scumbag. At the same time, I am thoroughly enjoying the feeling of releasing my rage upon this eminently deserving subject. I continue punching the bastard for what feels like an eternity. How long have I been punching him? Have I always been punching him and only just noticed it now? At some point, over the sound of my screaming and his screaming and his bones crunching under my fists and of the wet, oily sound that I assume is his flesh, I notice Tina’s screaming voice too. What is she saying, I wonder? It takes me several minutes to realize that she is begging me to stop. Only then do I really notice the damage I have done to Dadio. He is a person no more but a writhing, twitching, wheezing lump of bloody tissue, that is not only covering the floor but also staining my hands and clothes. I am covered in him. I am drenched in Dadio. Suddenly, I stop punching what is left of Roy Dadio and rise slowly, with no small amount of discomfort, to my feet. I turn towards Tina, bits and pieces of my victim still falling off of me and onto the floor, to see that tears are streaming down her face and she is looking at me with abject horror in her eyes. I try to take her in my arms, but she pushes me away. I reach out for her again and she slaps my hand down, screeching “Stay away from me. Stay the fuck away.” Then she turns and runs, as fast as she can, grunting madly and jerkily waving her arms in the air. I watch her disappear in the distance. “What brought that on?” I wonder, wiping a few remnants of Dadio from my shirt sleeve, “I was only trying to help.”

Max Mundan, The Trial of Roy Dadio

[pikachunas]

Rand of the Lost

His name was Randall. She had met him online a month before, when he messaged her something both witty and charming, some reference to her profile; the type of message a good man sends you. It was immediate banter and mutual interest-- his topical jokes made her laugh, his music taste was effortlessly aligned with hers, and on top of it all, he even seemed to have money, or so he claimed. You see, in his profile, he had typed “I’m not very successful and I have no friends.” 

Confusing, or maybe just funny? She wasn’t sure how a modern man measured success, her older immigrant father equated success with money...and of course, her exes never had any. The promise of a dinner she wouldn’t have to throw a twen down for was alluring, plus, he had a sense of humor, and even a college degree.

In terms of appearances, confusion struck her once again, though. She poured over his photos on social media, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. They seemed to be from his adolescence-- the face of an older boy with the initial stages of pubescent facial hair, but round baby-faced cheeks and large childlike eyes. He only had three photos-- one just a headshot, seemingly against a pillow. Another, him in a bed again, surrounded by dogs, only his face was visible, the rest obscured by comforters. The third was him in a chair, small legs dangling, brushing the floor ever so lightly. Surely, this was an older photo too, the man in the picture was a wisp, with a child-sized body, and smallish sneakers. He had told her he was short, and of course, she paid this no heed. Her lovers and boyfriends alike were of varying shapes and sizes...height made no difference to her. Her weakness was glaring, though it had nothing to do with physical attributes...she was a sucker for a songwriter. So she forgot about the photos, because, well,

Randall wrote songs.

Perhaps this is why she overlooked his barrage of excuses every time she asked to meet him. First, he wasn’t feeling well. Then, a bad day, a crummy mood. Sometimes he had to bring his dogs to the vet, his sister to work, his grandmother to the doctor. It was always something new and just sensical enough to keep her from questioning him. 

One night, they were speaking on the phone (the most involved form of interaction they had experienced thus far), and the question came up again, “Let me just come over, yeah? You don’t have to worry about anything, we don’t even have to go anywhere...could we just watch a movie?”

    “Michelle, you’re like my O.S., it’s like that movie, ���Her’, you know? If you’re real, it’ll ruin it. We have a cool time talking on the phone and online, can’t you just stay virtual?”

    He said all this with a glimmer of laugh in his feminine and nasal-driven voice, daring her to push harder.

    “What if you see how hideous I am and don’t want to be friends anymore?”

She snorted at this statement, tickled at the notion of a man feeling insecure in this manner. 

    “That’s not gonna happen, goof, I know what you look like” she said, all the while considering his photos...maybe she didn’t know? 

    The next day, he messaged her. 

        “Have you ever seen Brokeback Mountain?” it read.

        “No...that the gay cowboy movie?”

        “Yeah, dude. It’s one of my favorites. Come over tonight and watch it with me. I promise I won't flake”

Michelle was as nervous as she was excited. She couldn’t help but think Randall was hiding something about his appearance, or lifestyle, or something. There had to be a reason he was so reluctant to meet her. Her mutual friends with him talked about Randall as if he didn’t even exist in real life. Like he was just holed up in his room, the hermit of Cohoes-- who was charismatic and smart. It just didn’t make it any sense.

    She got dressed, and anxiously set off to meet him.

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

Michelle entered the house, drawing her hands to her face in shock as she opened the door and processed what was before her. The house looked abandoned...white walls stood barren, lined with dust and dog hair, spiderwebs clung to every corner. She turned to her left and saw an unfurnished living room. To the right was a kitchen, looking equally unused and dusty, the only appliances- an old microwave and a milkshake machine. Bizarre. This was bizarre. 

The murmur of a television came from a door a few feet away, and she cautiously pushed it open.

From the large bed in the center of the room, she heard a wry “hey cute”, that sounded like it came from 100 feet away. Michelle stepped forward, and saw the smallest, roundest head peeking out from the folds of a blanket-- like a pea, in a much-too-large pod. 

Her eyes scanned the rest of the room, she saw a plastic dresser of sorts, literally exploding with bills of various sizes. She could see hundreds scattered on the floor, on the desk against his wall, wads of cash strewn about like candy wrappers. It was a hoard of money. 

    Randall lay on his back, arms by his sides, lily-white palms facing the ceiling like a corpse. His body was shockingly small, like those children in St. Jude commercials: muscles atrophied, trembling slightly, skin soft and pale from lack of movement and fresh air. His skinny white arm came out from beneath the covers, outstretched, asking for a hug, and a smile slowly spread across his small and spherical face.

“Woooow…” Michelle said haltingly, “it’s like...cool to finally meet you...finally…”

She sat down on the edge of the bed, rejecting his advance, a big black dog stirred and then settled. 

“Randall...are you like, sick?” she asked.

    “No, it’s just my body. It’s small and useless, my mom drank when she was pregnant,” he quipped, as if it were a joke.

It wasn’t a joke, Michelle thought, look at this guy.

She slowly lowered her body onto his bed, feeling a nervousness she had only felt in hospitals and special education classrooms. 

Her limbs were tense, terrified of crushing his body beneath her. His body that barely made an impression beneath the bedding, comically tiny amidst the queen size mattress. Michelle inched closer to him, forgetting her fears about Randall’s fragile form, succumbing to the advances of this lawn jockey she was so fascinated by. 

His palm caressed her leg, moving down from her foot to her ass, miniature fingers hooked into her leggings and began to pull them lower. 

Michelle raised her hips, allowing her pants to come down more, exposing her thick cafe au lait colored thighs, and a pair of what she considered were her “sexy” lace panties.

“Hah!” Those underwear are awful, they look like something my grandmother would wear.” He wheezed with laughter.

    “What the FUCK”, Michelle yelped, stunned that the intimate time they were having was interrupted by such a comment. Randall looked confused, but a grin still lingered on his lips. A self satisfied expression. She couldn’t handle it. 

Grabbing the tv remote from his Lilliputian hand, she threw it across the room, eyes welling with tears. 

    “Screw you, what the fuck kinda man says that to a girl?”

    Michelle began putting her coat on, not the type to be insulted by anybody; especially horrified that this infantile dwarf would try her.

Randall groaned a high-pitched sound of distress, like a creaking floorboard. “Dude! The Devils are playing in 15 minutes!” He peeled the covers off of his weak, pale body. Gripping the edge of his mattress, he dragged his useless skinny legs onto the floor with a thump, and began a demented army crawl across the room, like something from a horror film. 

Michelle zipped up her boot with one hand, bending down and snatching the remote off of the floor, before Randall could heave his pathetic body any closer. She put it atop the door jamb, unreachable to the invalid before her.

Randall slapped the hardwood with his soft small hand. Collapsing into a puddle of freckles and tattoos. He loosely gripped Michelle’s ankle as she started to leave, and looked up at her with those big blue eyes,

    “Hey...fuck...” he let out in an asthmatic whisper, “you...my man.”

                The end.

[archosaur-automaton]

Alone Together, Part 1

“I managed to reattach the limb, but you’ll have to take a ganglionic regeneration serum to keep the nerve bundles from atrophying,” Julian said to the Brazkonian on his table.

“Unfortunately for you, the damage done to the cargo bay can’t be regenerated so easily,” Odo said gruffly. He motioned to his deputies. “Put him in a holding cell until we hear word from the embassy on Brazkon.” Silently, the arachnoid man got up and walked with the two officers out of the medical bay, a sullen expression on his face.

Odo scoffed. “Petty thieves. They’re never very bright about their schemes, are they?”

Julian nodded, sitting down at his desk. “Brazkon Prime isn’t even part of the Federation! That’s sure to start a diplomatic row. I’ve no doubt he’ll end up in very hot water with his government.” He tapped at a PADD, his attention shifting entirely to the paperwork.

Odo grunted, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked down at the doctor, studying him closely. After a moment, Bashir looked over at him quizzically. “Was there something else I could help you with, Constable?”

“Actually, there was. I’ve been meaning to speak with you about this for a while now.” Julian raised an eyebrow but remained silent. Odo made a small harrumph, before continuing. “For a long while, I wasn’t sure, given my limited experience with observing humans, but it’s become strikingly obvious that you have a certain...interest in me.”

Julian let out a laugh, before collecting himself. “Not that I mean any offense, constable, but you are unfortunately not my ‘type’, if you understand my meaning.”

Odo tilted his head to one side. “I’m not implying romantic or sexual attraction. In fact, just the opposite. Still, when we work together, there is a sense of...excitement I can detect, an eagerness. If it were romantic in nature, that would be one thing; but since it is not, and I have no explanation as to the cause, I find it somehow more distracting than the alternative.”

Julian blinked a few times and averted his gaze, his face scrunched up in thought. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out, and he sat there agape for several moments. Eventually, however, he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat as he searched for the words. “I hadn’t thought that I was doing anything that might give it away,” he said in a small voice.

“It’s my job to be able to ‘read’ people, to make inferences as to the behaviours and thought-processes of humanoids. Also,” he added, a tone of amusement in his voice, “you are perhaps more transparent than you like to think. At any rate, I don’t mean to be demanding, but I feel our professional relationship has suffered somewhat because of this.”

Julian nodded slowly, the gears of thought whirling visibly in his head. “I only hope that you won’t think it terribly odd,” he said, a plaintive expression on his face. Odo harrumphed, more curious than annoyed, and Julian nodded again slightly before continuing. “And of course our circumstances are so very different, but -- you are of course familiar with my genetic augmentation, yes?”

Odo nodded, the annoyance creeping back into his voice. “Go on...”

Julian sighed. “It’s just that...as a child, I was developmentally disabled. I had delays in the acquisition of language skills, motor coordination, an incredibly poor memory. I was...different from everyone else my age, and even then I knew it.” He swallowed, an uneasy tone in his voice. “Different in a way I could tell was...wrong. I felt like a disappointment, like I was in some way shameful, as if my very existence was a discomfort to my parents. Until I was augmented, that is; then I was different in a good way. I was capable of grand achievements, of excelling, of being useful to my parents. But even though I had changed, something stayed the same; I came to realize that I was still being dehumanized. First for being defective, and then for being a miracle of science, something my parents could brag about and show off, someone who could...do party tricks for an enrapt audience. ”

He looked up at the ceiling, his lower lip quivering ever so slightly. “Wherever we went, whomever we were with, my father would encourage me to perform all sorts of...feats. Recite a poem by Wordsworth backwards, Julian. Name all the species of noctis beetle on Kaligar 2B, Julian. Tell me what color shoes I was wearing exactly 211 days ago, Julian.” He let out a shaky breath, running his fingers through his hair, before looking back at Odo.

“What I mean to say with all of this, is that...to be perfectly honest, I find myself seeing a reflection of my own life in yours, to some degree.”

Odo tilted his head. “That’s an interesting statement.”

Julian looked apologetic. “I know. Like I said, I -- I suppose I can’t presume to really know your circumstances. But there are things I cannot help but feel...resonate with my own experience. Being so different from those around you, feeling unable to ‘fit in’, being so distant and alien from those around you. Did you know,” he said with a wry smile, “that as a child, even after I was augmented, for the longest time I was convinced I was some freakish creature plucked from another world and set loose? At eighteen, I ran my own DNA tests on myself, desperate to find something that proved I was from elsewhere, that I wasn’t truly human.” He rubbed at his temple, frowning. “I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

“Not at all, doctor,” he said, his tone flat and his expression even more inscrutable than usual. “Please, by all means continue.”

Julian took a deep breath. “I suppose where I’m going with all of this is, that in all of this I feel a strange sense of...not quite kinship, but affinity, of connection. We aren’t really close personal friends, but all the same I feel...a little more comfortable around you, like I do with the other augments. I had always hoped that perhaps we could get to know each other better -- to bond over some shared understanding of what it’s like to be an outsider.” He stared at his hands, a drained and tired look on his face. “That’s really all I had to say on that subject, I suppose.”

“Thank you very much for sharing, doctor,” Odo said, uncrossing his arms abruptly. “Especially about such a...personal affair. However, I think we would both be best served if we maintained our current professional distance, especially given the nature of our respective jobs.”

Julian nodded rapidly. “Oh, of course, absolutely. That’s a perfectly reasonable reaction, and really it makes a lot of sense. I suppose I’m just grateful to have had the chance to say all that. I only hope this doesn’t create any...friction between us.”

“I don’t think there’s any need to worry about that, doctor,” Odo said, turning to leave. “Now, if it’s alright with you, I have some business to attend to. Good evening.”

Julian gave a small wave as the changeling left the medical bay, a polite smile on his face. As soon as the constable was well out of view, however, he let out a long, slow breath. Breathing heavily, he put his head in his hands. “Computer; lights,” he said. There, as the room filled with darkness, Julian’s fingers curled tightly in his hair, his eyes screwing shut. And when the ache inside became too much to bear, there in the solitude of the medical bay, alone, Julian let the tears flow, and flow, and flow.

[musicalhistory]

Crutchie and Polio in the 1890s

Something that has bothered me since I joined this fandom is the unfortunate inaccuracy in many depictions of Crutchie having polio. To that end, I have attempted to debunk some common misconceptions about polio in general, and how polio would have affected Crutchie, in this post. (Apologies for how long this is, medical history is one of my niche interests).

To start, let’s talk a little bit about what exactly polio is, and what it does to the body.

Polio, or poliomyelitis (although it was often called infantile paralysis historically) is a disease caused by the poliovirus. The virus spreads from person to person and can cause paralysis, among other complications.

The majority of people who get infected with poliovirus will not have any visible symptoms (about 72 in 100 people with polio have no symptoms). Of the people who do have symptoms, many only have generic flu-like symptoms such as fever, nausea, and head and stomach pain, without paralysis. Only a low percentage of people will develop serious complications, among them the most familiar being paralysis. This means that Crutchie could have been exposed to the poliovirus and have caught it from people who had no idea that they even had the disease.

In terms of symptoms, Crutchie’s polio would have started out with the same symptoms as the flu (fever, headache, nausea, fatigue, sore throat, etc.) He could have also experienced back pain, back stiffness, neck pain, neck stiffness, muscle weakness, and pain or stiffness in the arms and legs. These symptoms could last for up to a week before paralysis would happen.

Symptoms of paralytic polio include a loss of reflexes, severe muscle aches and spasms, muscle weakness, loose and floppy limbs, deformed limbs, and sudden temporary or permanent paralysis. Paralysis can occur anywhere in the body, with varying levels of severity. Polio can also affect the throat and lungs, impairing breathing and making swallowing extremely difficult. However, this likely did not happen in Crutchie’s case, because in an age without the iron lung (invented in 1927) had his breathing been severely impaired by the virus he likely would have died.

Once a person with polio’s fever breaks they are usually no longer contagious through the air, although their stool can remain infected for 3 to 6 weeks after contracting the virus. After this, paralysis can go away on its own, although physical therapy is helpful as well.

Crutchie probably contracted polio well before the strike, given that his leg muscles have atrophied to the point that they have in the show. An outbreak of polio occurred in the United States around 1893, and then again in 1894, which could have been when he caught it, or he could have caught it before then (again, polio is highly contagious but most people don’t show symptoms). Personally, I headcanon that he caught it before 1893 because polio mainly affects children under the age of 5 or 6, but he could have caught it later than that as well.

One thing that I need to note here that I see in fanfiction stories all the time is that paralysis caused by polio is usually not gradual. That is, it usually occurs suddenly, almost overnight, and not slowly over a longer period.

If you headcanon that Crutchie caught polio before becoming a newsie and moving into the lodging house, he was likely treated at home. Hospitals around the turn of the century were often overcrowded and not the most sanitary of places (although that was rapidly changing all over the country). If you headcanon that Crutchie caught polio while living in the lodging house, however, he would’ve been taken to the Hudson Street Hospital as soon as it was discovered that he had polio, and the entire lodging house would have been fumigated (disinfected) to prevent contagion (this happened in 1897 when a newsboy named John Kelly was diagnosed with diphtheria and sent to the hospital, but it later turned out that he only had tonsilitis).

In terms of what kinds of treatments Crutchie would have had access to, the answer is, unfortunately, not much. The primary rehabilitation treatments for polio (known as the Sister Kenny treatments) would not begin to be developed until 1911 when Australian nurse Elizabeth Kenny saw her first case of polio, and they would not catch on in the United States until the 1940s and 50s. The main treatment for polio at the turn of the century were leg and arm braces, intended to “correct” the paralysis, which Crutchie would have had limited access to as a poor, working-class person (and which had limited success without physical therapy anyway). However, Crutchie could have been given exercises to do to strengthen and rehabilitate his muscles by a doctor, such as the stretch we see him and Jack doing during Carrying the Banner, meaning that his paralysis could get better over time. Paralysis caused by polio is also rarely permanent, so Crutchie likely was paralyzed more right after he first caught polio and then gradually regained the use of his limbs over time.

Now, for a word about post-polio syndrome.

Post-polio syndrome (PPS) is the return of certain symptoms of polio years after a person has first had the disease. It can occur anywhere from 15 to 40 years after someone has had polio. About 25 to 50 percent of people who have had polio will develop PPS, so it’s certainly possible that Crutchie could have developed it. In rare cases, it can be fatal, but it is usually not, especially with physical therapy and other management techniques. Symptoms of PPS include muscle and joint weakness, muscle pain, becoming tired more easily, muscle atrophy, trouble breathing or swallowing, sleep apnea, and low tolerance of cold temperatures. It is also important to note that since it is unlikely that Crutchie’s lungs were affected by polio, there is no reason that he should get sick more easily than other people because of his polio (he could still just have a naturally low immune system, however).

I hope this was informative (and not too boring). Please feel free to send me any questions you may still have about this or any other topic!

Sources:

https://www.healthline.com/health/poliomyelitis

https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/polio/symptoms-causes/syc-20376512

https://www.cdc.gov/polio/what-is-polio/index.htm

[waywardaardvark79]

Come Hell or High Water Part 2: Here Comes the Sun

Summary: Blackwick, Montana was going to be a fresh start for you and your five year old daughter. You moved in across the street from Officer Dean Winchester, and quickly found that you were able to help him. Will Dean be able to help you when your past comes back to haunt you?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: language, hurt Dean

                           2 weeks later

          You were finally completely settled into the new house. Tomorrow was the first of August, the day you started back to work. You stood in your office, double checking that everything was ready for the next day.  Satisfied that you were prepared, you walked into the living room, and sat down on the window seat. 

It had quickly became your favorite spot. You and Aj would often sit there together, making up scenarios about your mystery neighbor. A few times a week a  man driving a black dodge charger would show up. He was tall with longish, shaggy brown hair. He would run inside and come out a few moments later, usually with a bag in hand. He never stayed long. Aj was convinced that he was a robber, and that you should call the cops on him for taking those people's things. 

You started to call her downstairs knowing it was nearing the time to check her blood sugar, when the loud rumbling of an engine pulled your focus back out the window. You watched as a sleek, black classic car slowly pulled into the drive. The long haired, tall man getting out a few moments later. He walked to the trunk, popped it open, and pulled out a wheelchair. You watched as he struggled to open it, "Aj! Come down here!" you yelled. You soon heard her bouncing down the stairs. 

"It didn't beep yet." she said gesturing to her watch.

 "Come on. Let's go see if we can help the neighbor." you said as you grabbed her hand and led her out the front door. 

        You approached the man, "How the fuck do you..." he grumbled. 

"That's a bad word." Aj scolded. 

He quickly turned to face you, his eyes wide with embarrassment. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, "You're right. I shouldn't have said that." he said looking down at her. 

"Momma says if you say bad words the cops will come and...." she took a few steps towards him, beckoning him to bend down. He squatted so that he was on her level. Jesus, he was tall. She leaned into him and whispered, "wash your mouth out with soap."

 He chuckled, "Well, we can't have that happen, can we?" he asked. 

"You gotta say sorry, and promise not to do it again." she said. 

The man nodded, a serious expression overtaking his face, "I promise." he said. 

You stood by and watched their interaction. Aj never met a stranger. She talked to anyone that would listen. The opening of the passenger side door pulled you from your thoughts, "What's the hold up, Sammy?" a gruff voice called out. 

Sam quickly stood up and started to attempt to get the wheel chair to unfold. "Here. Let me." you said as you walked forward and had the chair unfolded in no time. "It looked like you could use some help. These old chairs are hard to unfold sometimes." you explained. 

He held out his hand to you, "Thank you." he said with a pause. 

You shook his hand, "Y/N. We moved in a couple weeks ago." you filled in.

 "Nice to meet you. I'm Sam." he said. 

Before the conversation could go any further you were interrupted, "Momma!!! Look he has a dog!" she shouted, her face pressed up against the window of the back door, a large German Shepherd staring back at her. 

"Easy, kid." the gruff voice from earlier said. 

You quickly walked to her side and pulled her into your side. Sam maneuvered the chair so that it was sitting next to the open passenger side door. You finally let your eyes fall on the man inside. You noticed that his left leg, and arm were in a cast, the rest of what skin you could see was covered in cuts and bruises.

 "Hey, Mr." said Aj, pulling the man's attention to her. "You're hurt." she started, but he quickly cut in. "You're a smart one." he grumbled. 

"Dean!" Sam barked out.

 He turned to look up at Sam, but Aj spoke up, "I was gonna say my mom could help you. She helps people, but you're not very nice." she finished by crossing her arms over her chest. 

You glanced up at Sam who was biting back a smile, "Aj, let's go." you said as you started to pull her back towards your house.

 You were almost to the end of the drive when you heard the frustrated mumbles from behind you. You turned to see Sam trying unsuccessfully to get Dean out of the car. You walked back over to them, Aj holding onto your hand. "Here. Let me help." 

You let go of her hand and motioned for her to stand back just a little. The dog in the backseat started to whine, "Let him out, Sam." said Dean.

 You stood back for a moment while Sam opened the back door, the dog quickly jumping out. "Oh no! He's hurt too!" Aj cried as she took in the three legged dog in front of her. She rushed forward toward the dog, but you reached out and grabbed her. She looked up at you with pleading eyes.

 "Rocky, sit." Dean barked. 

The dog quickly sat, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. "Can I pet him?" Aj asked. 

Dean sighed, his frustration growing by the minute, "No, he isn't a pet." he said. 

Aj hung her head. You sighed loudly, starting to regret your decision to help him. His attention now focused on you, "You don't have to be so short with her. She's just a kid." you said. 

You didn't allow him time to reply before you were stepping right up next to him. You positioned the wheel chair to where you needed it. "What do you need me to do?" asked Sam. 

You looked up at him, "Stand over there." you said as you motioned to a spot a couple feet away, "And get the dog to move." 

Sam called for the dog, "Rocky, here." he said. The dog moving easy for only having three legs.

You turned your attention to Dean, "Ok, put your good leg out." you said. Dean eyed you up and down, taking in your much smaller frame. 

"Listen, lady. There is no way you are gonna." 

You cut him off, "I said put your good leg out." you snapped, Dean wearing on your patience.

 Dean looked at you one last time before attempting to pull his good leg out of the vehicle. He grunted, in obvious pain, and you quickly placed one hand under the bend of his knee, the other just above his ankle, and began to slowly help him raise his leg enough to get it out of the car. You carefully lowered his foot to the ground, and pulled up the grey sweats he was wearing to inspect his skin. 

"Whoa, lady!" he gasped. Not seeing any visible damaged you started to lightly massage his calf.

 "How long has it been since you've been on your feet?" you asked.

 "A couple weeks." he shrugged. 

"No, therapy?" you asked as you continued to massage his leg.

 "Someone refused to do it." Sam spoke up.

 Dean glared at him. "Your muscles have atrophied. This leg is gonna be a little weak." you said.

 "You a doctor?" he asked. 

"Nurse." you replied as you stood up.

 You positioned the wheelchair so that it was right next to the door, angling it so that it was facing towards him. "Ok. Take your good hand, and put in here on the chair." you instructed. He did as you said, watching as you walked around to the back of the chair, "Now just lift what you can with that leg, and just scoot your butt over." You watched as he hesitated for a moment, "You can do it." you said. 

He managed to get himself seated on the edge of the chair, panting with exertion afterward. "Arms up a little." you said. He didn't argue with you, just raised his arms the best he could. You snaked your arms underneath his, wrapping them gently around his chest, "Ok, on three I'm gonna help you scoot back. You push back with your good side, and I'll pull. One, two, three." you said, Dean easily sliding back in the right position. "Foot pedals?" you questioned to Sam.

 He pointed to the trunk, "In there." 

You walked around to the trunk, grabbed the pedals, and walked back over to Dean. You put the right pedal on first and helped him raise his good leg so that it rested on the pedal. You attached the left pedal, and carefully rested his bad leg on it. "There. You should be good to go." you  said as you looked up at him, taking in his striking green eyes for the first time. 

"Thanks." he grumbled out. 

Sam quickly rushed to your side, "Thanks. We would probably still be stuck in the car if you weren't here. I really appreciate it." he rambled out. 

Aj's giggling quickly pulled everyone's focus to her. She was standing there, her hands on either side of Rocky's face, while he licked her face. "Rocky!" Dean called out. The dog immediately stopping, and looking over to Dean. He snapped the fingers of his good hand, and Rocky was quickly at his side. 

You stepped over to your daughter, "You guys got it from here?" you asked. 

Sam nodded, "Seriously though, thank you, Y/N." he said.

 "No problem, Sam. Let me know if you need anything else." you said, as you took Aj's hand and started back to your house. 

         Thirty minutes later a knock sounded at your door. You placed Aj's insulin pen on the counter, "Don't move." you instructed as you walked to answer the door. "Who is it?" you asked.

 "Sam." called the muffled voice. 

You opened the door, "Everything ok?" you asked. 

"You said you were a nurse?" he asked. You nodded. "Anyway, you could help me make sense of these discharge papers?" he asked. 

"Sure. Just give me one minute." you said. "You can come in." you added. 

Sam stepped inside and closed the door after him. "You must have quite a drive. I mean, the closest hospital is 40 miles from here." he said as he followed you into the kitchen. 

"I work from home." you replied as you opened another alcohol pad to wipe Aj's arm. 

"How does that work?" asked Sam as he closely watched what you were doing. 

"Telenursing. I see patients over a webcam." you explained.

 Aj flinched back a little as you gently pinched her arm, "Do a song." she said, her eyes squeezed shut. 

"When the night has come, and the land is dark, and the moon is the only light we'll see. No, I won't be afraid." you softly sang. "No, I won't be afraid." her little voice echoed yours. You pushed the needle into her arm, "Just as long as you stand." you sang. 

"Stand by me." she finished. 

You looked over at Sam who was watching you with a soft smile on his face. You shrugged your shoulders, "Singing helps her." you said.

 "Good song. You have a pretty voice." he said. 

You blushed a little and waved him off. "Momma, is the best singer." said Aj as she rubbed her arm. 

Sam gestured to the spot, "You ok?" he asked. 

She quickly nodded, "I'm dibabetic." she mispronounced the word.

 "Diabetic." you corrected as you were putting things away.

 "Yeah, that's what I said." she argued.

 "Run upstairs and get your shoes. We are gonna go help Sam." you explained, and Aj quickly jumped down and headed upstairs.

 "So, is Dean your friend, or?" you asked trailing off. 

"Brother." Sam said.

 "Mind if I ask what happened?" you asked. 

"Car Accident. Rocky was with him." Sam said. "I'm sorry he was kind of an asshole, earlier." Sam added. 

"It's fine. He's in pain, and not able to do much for himself at the moment. It kind of comes with the territory." you said.

 Aj skidded to a stop in front of the two of you, "Ready." she said. 

        The two of you followed Sam across the road, "Is this your house?" Aj asked.

 "No, my brother Dean lives here. I live in town though." he explained. 

You watched as she grabbed Sam's hand, shocking him a little at first, but it quickly faded. "Dean's your brother?" she asked.

 "My big brother." he said.

 She giggled, "But your the big one. Did you eat a lot of veggies?" she asked, switching into a completely serious tone.

 Sam looked down at her and smiled, "I sure did." he said.

 "You know, I thought you was a robber." she said.

 You cringed at her lack of a filter, "Ava Jeane." you scolded. 

She turned to look back at you, "He was always takin' stuff from the house." she explained. 

However, Sam didn't seem to be offended at all, "I was bringing Dean some stuff while he was in the hospital." he said.

 "So, your not a robber?" she asked. 

Sam laughed a little under his breath, "I'm a cop, actually. So, is Dean, and Rocky."

Aj laughed, "Dogs can't be cops." she said as Sam pushed open a door on the side of the house.

 "Sure, they can. Rocky is Dean's partner. He helps him catch the bad guys." Sam said as he stepped to the side to let you enter, Aj still firmly holding onto his hand. 

"Do you have a dog too?" she asked.

 "No, Rocky is the only dog on the force." he said. Sam closed the door after you. You were standing in a rather tidy laundry room. "This way." Sam said as led you into the kitchen. 

Aj let go of his hand as soon as she noticed Rocky laying on a bed next to the table. "Careful." you said as you watched her crouch in front of the dog and gently pet his head. 

Sam took some papers from a folder and handed them over to you. "I'll go get his meds if that will help." he said. You nodded, and you started to read over the papers.

         Sam entered the kitchen a few moments later with a small bag of different medicines. You looked over the meds, "This is Gabapentin. It's for nerve pain. This one is Flexeril, a muscle relaxer, and this one is an antibiotic. It said he has a large laceration on his thigh, so I'm sure it's just a precaution. Did they show you how to dress it?" you asked. 

‘Sam sighed and shook his head, "Dean isn't the easiest patient." 

"Yeah, I figured that." you said.

 "I have to go back to work in a few days, and I just don't know what I'm gonna do with him. I mean, I can't leave him alone for that long." he said as he looked at you with puppy dog eyes. 

"I mean, I could pop in and check on him, or you could bring him over to the house when you left for work." you said, having no idea  why you were being so accommodating to these two men you didn't know. 

"Really? That would help so much. Are you sure? I mean, I probably shouldn't be asking a stranger to do something like that." he chuckled out. 

"It's fine. Guess I'm just a really good neighbor." you said. 

He laughed out loud at your reply. "If you don't mind keeping an eye on her I'll go inform your brother that he just became my first patient in Blackwick." you said.

 "We'll be fine." he said glancing over at Aj who was busy talking Rocky' s ear off. "He's just through there, on the couch." Sam said.  

          You walked into the living room seeing Dean's large frame attempting to stretch out on the couch. "You're back?" he asked.

 "Yep, Sam came and got me. Wanted me to look over your meds and discharge papers. Some pretty serious injuries you got there." you said as you gently lowered yourself onto the edge of the coffee table. 

"I'm fine." he argued trying to adjust himself to a more comfortable position. 

"You have multiple bumps and bruises, a fracture to both your ulna and your radius, which are both currently sporting some plates and screws, a few cracked ribs, a large laceration on your upper thigh, and you had an open reduction and internal fixation on that leg, which could take anywhere from a good three to six months to heal." you said.

 "Listen lady, I don't know who you think you are, but I don't have to listen to this." he said. 

You looked him up and down before speaking, "One, It's Y/N, not lady. Two, I'm your new nurse, so get to this face, we're gonna be spending a lot of time together. Three, you kinda do have to listen to me. I know what I'm talking about, and besides it's not like you can get up and run away from me." you sassed.  

You watched as Dean open and closed his mouth a few times, not expecting your snarky response. "Close your mouth, dear." you said as you stood up. "I'm gonna go grab your meds." Dean watched, completely dumbfounded by you, as you made your way to the kitchen. He shook his head, you were about to make things very difficult for him.

           "He needs to go ahead and take his meds. You got the stuff for a sandwich? He needs to eat with them. When he gets done I'll change his dressing, and write down the next time his meds are due, but then he should be good to go for awhile." you said to Sam, who was currently seated in the floor next to Aj and Rocky. 

"Momma, Mr. Sam said I could come and see Rocky anytime I wanted and that he might get to come to our house too!" Aj excitedly told you.

 "Sorry, guess I should've asked first, but he never really goes anywhere without Dean, and if he's coming over." Sam trailed off. 

"It's fine. He won't be a problem." you said.  "Sandwich stuff?" you asked. 

Sam told you where everything was and you quickly made Dean a sandwich, throwing a hand full of chips on the plate, and grabbing his meds. Sam got up and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and handed it to you, "Thanks." you said as you made your way back to the living room. 

           You sat everything down on the coffee table, and helped Dean prop himself up into an upright position. "Take these." you said as you dropped the pills into his upturned hand, quickly passing him the water to wash them down. "Now eat." you said as you placed the plate on his lap. 

"You always this bossy?" he asked with a slight smirk. 

"Get used to it." you said as you perched yourself on the edge of the coffee table. Dean scoffed at the statement before picking up his sandwich and taking a bite.

            Aj looked up at Sam who had settled next to her back on the floor, "Mr. Sam, are there any bad guys here?" she asked.

 Sam was perplexed by the question, "Well, I'm a cop. It's my job to catch the bad guys, so there aren't any here." he gently explained. "Aj, are you scared of bad guys?" he asked. 

"Momma is." she said as she gently stroked Rocky's head, that was now laying in her lap.

"Why do you think that?" asked Sam.

 "Sometimes I hear her cry at night when I'm supposed to be asleep. I've heard her on the phone talking about the bad man." she said. She looked up at Sam, "I think that's why we move a lot so, the bad man can't get us." she said. 

Sam's heart broke for the little girl. "You and your mom don't have to worry about any bad guys, me and Dean will keep them all away." he said.

 "You promise?" she asked. 

"I promise." he said, wanting to lighten the mood a little bit he asked, "So, how old are you?"

 "Five, but I'll be six pretty soon." she said as she turned her attention back to Rocky. Sam smiled softly at the little girl, who seemed wise beyond her years and wondered just what exactly you were so scared of. 

           Dean finished his sandwich, and you took his plate back into the kitchen. "Did the hospital happen to send anything home for his dressing changes?" you asked.

 "Everything they sent is in that bag." Sam said pointing towards the table. 

You grabbed the bag, and headed back into the living room. "Ok, let's get these pants off of you so I can have a look at that wound." you said as you placed the bag and the coffee table and started to rifle through it.

 "Could at least buy me dinner first." Dean sassed.

 You turned to look at him, hand on your hip, "I just brought you a sandwich, didn't I?" you sassed, as you held the materials you needed. Dean rolled his eyes. "Just lift your hips a little. I'll do all the rest." you said. 

"Normally I don't let the woman do all of the work." he said as he winked at you.

 "Easy there big boy. Don't want to pop a stitch." you said as you carefully pulled his sweats down until they were below the bandage on his thigh.

 You had pulled the old bandage off and were in the middle of cleaning it when Aj burst into the room, "Can I take Rocky outside with Mr. Sam?" she asked. 

You looked up from Dean's leg, "If Sam says it's ok, but you listen to him, ok. No running off." you said.

 Aj had stepped a little closer, her focus on the wound you were cleaning. She looked over at Dean, who was watching her, "You should have her sing you a song. It helps it not hurt so bad." she said. You watched as he actually smiled softly at her, not automatically spitting out anything negative like you expected.

 "Does your mom sing to you?" he asked. 

You started cleaning the wound again, "When I take my shots." she said.

 "You take shots?" he asked.

 "Yeah, I'm dibabetic." she explained. 

"Diabetic." you corrected.

“That's what I said." she argued.

 "That's what she said." Dean backed her up. 

She smiled brightly at him, "So can I go?" she asked.

 "Yes, but remember.." you started before she cut you off, "Listen to Mr. Sam." she finished before quickly running back to the kitchen.

 You were putting a clean bandage on when Dean spoke up, "Cute kid." he said.

 You smiled, "Yeah, she is." you replied as you put a final piece of tape on, and then helped Dean pull his sweats back up. You turned to start picking up the trash, and old bandage, "You should be good to go now. I'll write down when it's time for your meds, but that's it. I'll leave my number, and if you have any questions or need any help just give me a call." you said as you heard Sam, Rocky, and Aj come back inside. The three of them walked into the living room. 

"You good?" Sam asked Dean.

 "She fixed me all up." he said.

          You wrote down the times for Dean to take his medicine, and gave Sam your number in case they needed anything. You stood by the front door with Aj, "Alright guys. Call if you need anything. I'll pop in sometime in the morning to check on you." you said. Sam and Dean both thanked you. "Ok honey, let's go." you said as you held your hand out for her.

 "Just one minute." she said. 

She walked over to Sam and gave him a hug, him crouching down to allow her to. She patted Rocky on the head, promising to see him tomorrow and then walked over to Dean. "I hope you feel better, Mr. Dean. Mr. Sam said you got hurt chasing the bad guys." Dean nodded, not sure what to say. 

Aj reached into her pocket and pulled out a little folded piece of paper. She opened it and then carefully pulled off a sticker. She gently placed it on the cast on Dean's arm. Dean looked down at the little smiling sun she had placed on his cast, "The sun song makes me happy. It will help you too." she said.

 "The sun song?" he asked.

 "Here comes the sun." you stated.

 Dean smiled at Aj, "I feel better already. Thank you." he said. 

You said your final goodbyes, and told them you would be by tomorrow before walking out the door, Aj's hand in yours. Dean watched the two of you leave, and smiled as he softly hummed the tune to himself, thinking that you and this little girl were certainly going to brighten up his life.

[thisiswhymomworries]

Week Two

hey it's ya boi back again for a week two transition update! boring info first, then a summary of what's been going on

When: 10/26/19 - 11/1/19 (started T on 10/18/19)

Testosterone: I'm using Androderm, which is a daily patch you stick on exactly like a nicotine patch

Dosage: 2 mg per day, although you can get them in 5 mg per day patches

Changes: Increased hunger (again), new pimples, slightly darker leg hair?, orgasms easier to achieve and feels 20% better

OK so I'm putting the stuff about that last change below the cut lol, along with the bullshit bad side effects from the patches

check out my week one post if you want to know how the increased hunger started off. it's still going though, but it does feel like I'm finally evening out, where I know how hungry I get now and when. for anyone who missed the week one post, the increased hunger means I get hungry a lot sooner than I used to (1-2 hours) and feel it more intensely. this is a difference only eating half to 3/4 of a sandwich, plus some chips, to being able to eat a whole sandwich, 1/4 a bag of chips, and dessert

the redness around my most common breakout areas (as I remember from First Puberty) has developed into one big actual pimple on my chin, and a couple smaller ones around my lip. still some redness on my forehead, but no pimples up there yet. I'm not doing any skincare routine at the moment, but I'm planning on adding a facial wash to my next grocery shopping trip

my leg hair might be slightly darker? idk it's hard to compare bc it's always been so light and fine, I don't have any pictures of it bc I've never been able to SEE it. I never even bothered shaving my thighs when I was femme bc you'd never know without physically touching my leg. the difference now though is that I can see it! so I think it must be a little darker to be actually visible now. no change in how much body hair I have though

tw: this next part does talk about genitals, and I'm using clit / vagina to describe things bc that's what I'm comfortable with. I know that's not the norm for most trans guys though, so skip down to the asterisks in the middle if you need to skip this part

I'm including this bc I couldn't find any good info from an actual trans guy about "downstairs" changes that wasn't actually just porn. scrolling through a thousand trans dick pics on a nsfw reddit sub just to get an idea of what changes to expect was NOT fun

so far, no clit growth as far as I've noticed. I don't have bottom dysphoria, so I'm not especially hoping for it either. I also haven't noticed my libido increasing (getting horny more often), my sexual attraction shifting (yep still ace), becoming wet more often / not getting wet as easily, vaginal tightness / soreness, or any chafing

the only changes have been that I think it's a little easier to make an orgasm happen, regardless of how good the stimulation actually is. I was having a lazy jack off session and hadn't really bothered to get everything wet enough and worked up enough for it to feel as good as it could have, but still had a fucking fantastic orgasm even though the stimulation was just mehh?? so that's weird but cool I guess

the 20% is just a random ass number. I absolutely cannot do math and there's no way to actually measure this. I've just noticed that the handful of orgasms I've had since starting T have been better. not like holy shit a LOT better, but better enough that I sure as hell noticed

for context though, I don't use any sort of penetration and haven't used those types of toys in about two years. haven't had penetrative sex in seven. so if there's any vaginal atrophy, or extra tightness, soreness, etc going on down there, I might not notice as much or as quickly bc I just don't mess with that area

***

OK bullshit skin reaction from the patches. I understand why they get a bad rep because going into week two, I have started getting some pretty nasty reactions, especially since I figured out these are 24 hour patches and started leaving them on that long

the least bad reaction is on my upper arms, which just have very small circles of red skin that coincide exactly with, or are smaller than, the circle of T on the patch that's supposed to seep into your skin

second worst is my stomach, with one side having a slightly bigger red patch similar to the ones on my arms, but the other side that's a little higher up being a much darker red and a bit larger

absolute worst is on my upper thighs. the right thigh has a HUGE swollen red patch, with a big circle in the middle that looks and feels like it got sunburned by a concentrated laser. left side isn't that bad, but it only starts swelling up after you take the patch off, so it could just be taking a bit to get nasty. it's worse than the bad side on my stomach in terms of being even a little bigger than that, but also not as deeply red

this isn't all that bad though bc they don't hurt at all. I'm typing this with my laptop and a laptop table braced on my thighs and stomach right now and absolutely no pain. they don't even hurt to touch, unless I scratch at them

unfortunately, I very much want to scratch at them. so fucking bad. because they ITCH. that's the real concern here. they itch really badly, and it gets way worse when I go outside in the cold and my skin dries out. I've been putting lotion on them a couple of times a day, and that does help. I think part of this reaction is that my skin always gets dry, red, and itchy during the winter, and the patches are 1) making that worse for the area of skin they cover and 2) drying out the skin badly enough that it takes way longer to recover, plus it's always cold right now, so my skin literally can't catch a break

again, I'm not too freaked out by this because it doesn't hurt. if anything hurt, I would be hauling my ass to the doctor because I have a very low pain tolerance! it's just itchy and looks gross. I'm also kind of chill about it because I have an appointment with my endocrinologist in a week anyway, and as long as my skin isn't peeling off or hurting or bleeding, I might as well wait and go in for that appointment instead of dealing with all the hassle, bullshit, and possible extra expensive of trying to arrange something sooner

I've included pictures of the skin reactions, which are kind of gross looking but no worse than a sunburn. underneath the comparison selfies bc I'd rather ppl see me as a human being first and then as a gross dry skin monster lol 

(better with or without glasses?)

gross skin reaction pics, didn’t get good ones of my stomach tho, sorry my thighs are so fucking pasty lol

[ericsonclan]

Meeting Geoffrey

I did a one-shot with @sonicole ‘s OC Geoffrey and this was the result - a chance encounter between him and Prisha :)

Read on A03:

It was a pleasant day to be outside. Not that this ever changed: Prisha couldn’t recall a day she hadn’t spent mostly outside since the world ended. But that simply meant days like this were more appreciated than ever. Feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin, Prisha momentarily wondered what it would be like to have nothing to do on a day like today, to simply lay out on the grass somewhere and bask in the sunshine’s rays. There was always work to do though, and today was no different. Hopefully she could scout out something to eat within their perimeter rather than having to double back and take Jordan or Jeffrey with her. Movement in the foreground had Prisha pausing. She had almost reached the road where the old antique shop Prisha planned to search lay. It was a long shot for food, but that also meant that there could still be something there, and though the visibility of the road made it dangerous, they hadn’t spotted a single car passing by in the days they had been there. Now she could see one before her, pulled off to the side of the road with its driver under the lifted hood. This was unfortunate timing. Guess I’ll be doubling back after all, Prisha thought to herself, preparing to slip back into the woods. Another movement out of the corner of her eye gave her pause though. A walker had emerged across the street and was slowly limping toward the driver. Could he really not hear its approach? He seemed to be muttering angrily to himself. Prisha could just barely make out the words. It didn’t appear to be English. Was it… French?

That wasn’t important now. She had a choice to make. Would she turn around and leave this stranger to his fate or save the man only to risk being shot for her trouble? There was nothing within reach she could use to distract the walker. If she was going to reach it in time, she’d have to do so at a dead run. It was always a risk to insert yourself into others’ lives. She knew what her call would be though. If Ed was here, he’d help the stranger, no question, just like he’d done for her. There was no point mulling over what was ultimately already decided. Sprinting forward, Prisha drew her axe and swung upward. It connected with the walker’s skull, sinking in with a pronounced squelch. Pulling back, Prisha saw the walker crumple lifelessly in front of her. Looking at its face, Prisha saw why the stranger hadn’t hears it coming. It had no jaw, the lower mandible having fallen off with time or age. It likely couldn’t have even hurt anyone if it tried. Her heroism had been for nothing. She heard the click of a gun behind her. “You’re fast,” Fuck. “I suppose I should thank you,” “A proper thank you would involve holstering your weapon,” “I could say the same to you. Turn around. Slowly,” Prisha acquiesced, meeting the eyes of the stranger for the first time. He was younger than her, which somewhat surprised her. There weren’t a lot of teens these days, certainly not ones who survived on their own. He must be in his mid-teens at least since he’d started to grow facial hair, a thin mustache resting atop his lip that matched his russet hair. His eyes were also surprisingly blue. They looked unreadable, but not unkind. Prisha hoped she was right in that regard. “On three?” the stranger asked, motioning toward his holster. Prisha was somewhat surprised at the offer given his weapon advantage, but she wasn’t going to refuse. She nodded. “One, two… three,” Both weapons were returned to their carriers. The young man watched her intently. Placing a hand on his chest, he began introductions. “My name is Geoffrey Firmin Mallores,” “Prisha… Chakyar,” God, it’s been a long time since my introduction included a last name. She eyed the young man carefully. “Just passing through?” “I would if my dear car would have the decency to start again,” Prisha quirked an eyebrow. “Rare for anything to be dear these days, especially belongings,” “It reminds me of an old friend,” That made sense. Prisha glanced down at the ratty friendship bracelet on her right hand before her eyes returned to Geoffrey’s. “Need a hand?” He looked surprised at the offer. “You know how to repair a modified Citroën 2CV?” “I’ve been under my share of hoods back in the early years when gas was easier to come by,” He looked unconvinced. “I promise I won’t touch anything unless I’m absolutely sure it’s right,” Geoffrey nodded, motioning for her to take the helm. Prisha stepped forward, examining the engine with curiosity. It looked to be an older model, something classic that you’d see in the hands of a car collector back when hobbies were still a thing. The design of the engine itself was refreshingly minimalistic. Unlike some of the behemoths she’d studied in the past where multiple parts would have to be lifted out before actual repairs could be done, everything was neatly laid out before her. It was a surprisingly straightforward design. Who’d have guessed a car like this would be the most practical choice in the apocalypse? As he stood beside Prisha watching her analysis, Geoffrey ran a hand fondly along the side of the car, whispering something to it that sounded like Spanish. “You’re surprisingly multilingual,” Prisha commented. “Weren’t you speaking French to it earlier?” Geoffrey smiled. “You’ve heard my entire range then. French, English, Spanish. And you?” “Marginally multilingual. My Spanish teachers growing up were… incompetent to put it mildly. Not much has stuck with me beyond the barest basics. And my parents spoke Hindi at home, but my vocabulary’s atrophied with time. Not many people around to chat with in Hindi,” “Not many people around to chat with at all,” Geoffrey noted dryly. Prisha returned his sardonic smile. “I think I’ve spotted the problem. May I?” “Please,” Geoffrey nodded eagerly. It wasn’t a very complicated fix. Within ten minutes, Prisha was instructing Geoffrey to try turning on the engine. When he did it sputtered back to life in a matter of moments. Both of them met the success with glee, Prisha lightly applauding her own accomplishment while Geoffrey inclined his head in gratitude. Prisha lowered the hood before walking over to the driver’s side of the car. “I suppose this is goodbye,” “Indeed it is,” Geoffrey looked back inside of his car, rustling around through a bag on the passenger’s seat. He extended his arm to her, holding a Mars candy bar. “A thank you for all your help, the walker and the engine,” Prisha’s eyes widened in surprise. She hadn’t seen chocolate in years. She practically snatched the Mars bar from Geoffrey’s hand, feeling only momentary embarrassment at her enthusiasm. “You’re very welcome,” “Until we meet again,” Geoffrey said, offering a final wave as his car moved forward. Prisha waved back, waiting until the car had disappeared round a far-off bend before dropping her hand. Geoffrey certainly was a memorable person with his strangely cultured mannerisms, his classic car, that tiny moustache. She wished him well, wherever his path took him. Prisha looked down at the candy bar with a smile. It wouldn’t go far amongst the six of them, but her group would be ecstatic when she brought this back to camp. Tucking it in her pocket, Prisha looked over toward the antique shop. A quick search inside, then she would head back. It truly was a pleasant day after all.

[magicandjuliet]

"hello,Cassandra"

Here's a little one shot about Cassandra Devorak's birth! It's reaaal fluff here • Mrs. Isadora Devorak had no idea how long it had been since that same day she had felt a strange pressure in the lower abdomen that had immediately alarmed her husband, Dr. Julian Devorak, who had immediately said it was the beginning of labor. Isadora had tried to downplay it by saying that maybe the baby was just moving, causing some pressure down there. She had therefore told him that it was nothing and that he didn't have to worry. It was only when the pressure had arrived a little later and this time more intense that she evaluated the possibility of the beginning of childbirth and that Julian had completely forgotten that he was a doctor for a few brief moments before he recomposed himself. While he was talking to her he tried to keep his voice in the most stable tone possible, even if sometimes his booming tone ended up rising a few octaves and cracking a little due to emotion. "good, breathe .. breathe" he was saying now, kneeling in front of her while she was sitting on the edge of the bed, her head fell back and her hair brushed the untidy and messy sheets, twisted and pushed aside on one side. He kept one hand on her belly, trying to keep it as still as possible. Isadora knew he wasn't controlling anything, he just wanted her to feel safe and that made her smile. She reached out and squeezed her hand in his; both were holding each other's left hands, so their gold rings on their ring fingers touched lightly with a slight 'cling' which only softened Isadora's eyes even more. As soon as they were married she hadn't failed to notice how much that ring on his finger made Julian look more mature, changed. From their first meeting to the beginning of such a special moment, they had come a long way ... the little bundle of joy that would come to the world in the next few hours would have been what would have bound them eternally, the fruit of their love, that child would have been the proof of it. "does it hurt?" asked her husband "oh, if only I still had the mark I would transfer all that pain on me..." but she interrupted him, putting her right hand on his "love, don't worry" she said "we aren't in the phase of active labor yet. Remember? It'll take a while before that. I only feel pressure." Julian's gray eyes seemed like two stormy seas, he nodded unconvincingly "I know ... but maybe I should send Malak to call Mazelinka. For safety..." he said, running a hand through his hair "I don't even think about leaving you alone." Isadora smiled again, placing a hand on his cheek "will this make you feel more at ease?" Malak croaked beside them, as if to say to play along or he would never stop worrying at least until the child had turned 18. Julian nodded "yes." He said. The woman smiled "then I agree." With a quick nod, Julian told Malak to start and the crow flew gliding toward the city to the home of Julian's foster mother. Only then did the tension in her husband's shoulders seem to fade a little as he laid his hands on her belly again, with visible relief. "do you think about it?" he finally asked, in a low voice, "we're about to meet this little bundle of joy." Isadora smiled at him lovingly "i know..." he said "seems that this little one is looking forward to meeting us too." Julian smiled; it wasn't the smile he used when he wanted to provoke her, it was a sweet smile,It was full of emotions that she knew would emerge when he would take his baby in his arms. He placed a kiss on her stomach and then leaned his forehead against it, staying that way for a while as Isadora sank her fingers into the sea of copper-colored curls she hoped the child would inherit. "I love you" was all he whispered "I love you both." ••• It was only around midnight that the contractions began: the first didn't hurt, not even the second ... but the third was so strong that Isadora grabbed Julian's hand so hard that she risked breaking it, gripped by the pain of that terrible spasm that he had moved her belly muscles. Mazelinka was furiously waving a ladle in the air when she arrived "agh, damn crow! Why did you arrive so late?" She had exclaimed in a hoarse voice, that she had immediately softened to see Isadora "oh, my dear! how are you? how are you feeling?" Isadora was kneeling on the bed, one of Julian's hands on her back and the other holding her hand. The woman shrugged "it could be bet- oh, Julian; another contraction." And this time more intense than the others, so strong that a couple of tears came down mixed with the sweat that was beginning to form. "oh my god .. someone tell me how much is missing." She said, her voice clenched between her teeth in a hiss as she caught her breath. Julian didn't know for sure, but he had observed how the contractions were approaching each other "breathe, love" he said "we're almost there now." She nodded discouraged for a moment, preparing herself for more contractions. ••• Finally the long-awaited time as feared had arrived. The moment of birth; Isadora was lying on the pillows and in a hurry her husband had tied her hair while she breathed, so he sat down on her so that her back rested on his wide chest half uncovered by the neckline of his blouse. The urge to push had come, and Mazelinka drove everything with dexterity "courage sweetness, here we are!" he said "give me a strong push, show this child what its mother is made of!" she and her husband looked each other briefly in the eyes, he squeezed her shoulder with one hand, the other holding her trembling one. Isadora obeyed, all her body strained by the enormous effort to push a human being out into the world. She felt Mazelinka's hand on her knee as the old woman nodded and muttered to herself "very well, very well" she said "push for five more seconds ..." those five seconds lasted an eternity, and at the end of them she let herself go on her husband's chest, breathing hard and gasping. Julian kissed her hair "breathe, love ... you're very good ... breathe." encouraged her. Mazelinka nodded again "I see the head." he said, smiling "definitely a Devorak. Red hair." he smiled briefly at the phrase "you didn't expect a blond, did you?" joked Julian, stroking her back gently. Isadora pushed again, leaning forward. His beautiful face twisted into a list expression between concentration, ferocity and strained pain. Julian held his own in pain as he felt his hand almost shatter; he didn't care, she needed it. After a long while, the shoulders popped out together with the arms and the rest. Finally a little body covered in blood came out. Isadora gave a last push, clinging strongly to both Julian's hand and shirt, exposing his chest even more when the pain disappeared, relief and fatigue pervaded her, as if all her limbs had atrophied and she felt only the Julian's lips against her cheek. A sound shouted by very small lungs, but so powerful and to both came goose bumps: the cry of a newborn. Mazelinka lifted the little body in her arms and Isadora felt Julian's heart rumble on her back, fast and strong like a drum "it's a girl!" the new grandmother roared, proud raising it in the air. The little girl screamed incessantly, the narrow fists circulating without having a precise direction and the little legs kicked. Isadora let go of a sob, letting her tears run and releasing her tiredness and tension. Julian, behind her, he let himself go to a cry of pure joy; kissing her head several times and whispering to her how incredible she was while both new parents watched the new-born screaming "she's beautiful ..." Isadora murmured, holding his hand tight. Julian leaned his head on her "oh, she's so tiny, isn't she?" he said, wiping his tears quickly and now smiling. Mazelinka cleaned the baby well, wrapped her in clean bands and finally took her to her parents. "take off your shirt and put her on your chest, so she will get used to your scent." Once done, Mazelinka gave the baby to Isadora and she took her softly "oh ... hello ... hello honey" she murmured softly "we finally we know each other." the child immediately stopped crying, recognizing her mother's voice. She rested her cheek against her chest and slowly opened her eyes, they were silver like those of Julian, he had a small nose but of the same shape as his. Isadora smiled again, kissing her tight little fists before looking at Julian: that man was a valley of tears "hold her, Papa." she said, gently passing their daughter in his arms. His arms trembled, but she didn't even believe for a moment that he would drop her. In fact, the moment the little girl's head rested on the hollow of his arm, the trembling ceased and Julian stabilized, but the tears fell again "hey you ..." he murmured "you're beautiful ... it's me, I'm your dad! " finally being able to call himself a father filled his heart with love and pride for having contributed to creating that wonder that after nine long months he could hold in his arms. He touched her forehead with the tip of his nose "she has my eyes ..." he murmured, without really understanding what he was saying. he kept repeating "I'm a dad ... I'm a father ..." smiling as tears fell copiously. Isadora leaned on his shoulder, looking at their creation with nothing but pure love in her eyes. Mazelinka smiled "do we have a name?" She asked. Isadora and Julian looked at each other "I was thinking of 'Cassandra'" she said "Cassandra Devorak." He gave her a loving look, lightly rubbing the head of his daughter "Cassandra Levane Devorak, you mean"

[nyxwordsmithwrites]

Not so bad

*So this takes place right after the second chapter, starting at like 2am or so lol

-----

“Fu-ck! I can't-” a gasp, “I can't catch a goddessdamned break-nggh!”

  And it was this- as strange as it was- that woke Logan out of his exhausted slumber.

  Only slightly confused and a bit more than peeved, the demon stood up-body only wobbling slightly- as he headed towards the maker of the reverberating noise.

  It shouldn't have been a surprise that Remy chose the room closest to his own- considering how loud the other's moans were-but what was surprising; the door was open. Logan's brow arched.

  Bit of an exhibitionist are we?

  Without much preamble, Logan simply waltzed into the room.

  He was expecting to either see an embarrassed or lustful fae sprawled out before him, possibly both. For which he had some choice comments, that would include quite a few foul words, under the pretense of getting Remy to shut up-or at the very least be less noisy when dealing with himself- but the sight before him had his words dying in his throat.

  True the fae was sprawled...on his side at least; his pale wiry frame and milky skin- speckled with tiny scales- was exposed before him, unhindered by neither shirt nor pants, as said items of clothing were thrown onto the floor in a heap, his shades somewhere along in that mix. The only saving grace to his modesty were some thin, cheap and faded boxers. That of which were barely hanging onto his thin hips- they were slowly dipping lower with each ragged breath that Remy took.

  The fae was panting, eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving; as sweat plastered his hair to his forehead and rolled down his face. Both his hands were digging into the bed sheets-

  “nghh”

  Logan frowned,

at himself.

  Here he was about to chastise the poor fae, when he himself was at fault for ignoring his senses. There was no scent of lust, nor pleasure, instead the entire room was clouded with agony and pain. Something he should have noticed from the moment he woke.

  Remy's back bowed one second, then arched the next, his thin body shuddering as a tremor of pain ran through him. Pain no doubt coming directly from his wings.

  “nggh”, another groan left him.

Logan bit at his lip, he could actually see the spasming of the feathery, streamer like limbs. How the muscles of it rippled and coiled...ever cramping and tightening.

  It stopped for a moment, the fae’s entire form sagged and he huffed in relief-

  Only for it to start up again.

  The demon winced in sympathy, the spasms in Remy's wings had restarted so violently that it literally tied some of the free moving feathers into knots- and with each tremor the muscle pulled tighter...

  “nghh”

  Making up his mind Logan moved closer to the bed.

  Remy's eyes snapped opened.

  “Shouldn't you be asleep?”

The demon blinks, he has no doubt that his own hair is a mess and his current clothing is nothing if not rumpled but he did not expect the fae to speak so clearly, despite being in obvious pain.

  How long has he endured this pain to be able to do so?

  “I was”, he started after a beat, “ but your sounds woke me-”

  Remy sits up at that.

  “Oh I'm sorry”, he winces, “I'll just keep my mouth shut and suffer in silence-”

Logan isn't sure if he means that literally or sarcastically at this point.

“Go back to sleep Logan, you're swaying”

  “I am not, I'm standing perfectly still, you however are swaying-”

  “Oh- hey, what are you…?! Let me go!”

  “Calm down, and lay on your stomach-”

  “Like hell! What are you-?!”

  “I'm trying to help you!”

Logan huffs, still pushing the fae down on the bed, “you need to sleep and I need you to shut up”

  “Oh sure, it's a win-win for everybody, eh? It doesn't make a difference boo, my wings have been doing this shit for a while-”

  The demon rolled his eyes, still pushing down, “then this will ease the pain, relax and let me help you”

  Remy groans but let's himself be pushed down, hell knows Logans grip is painful, and he sure as fuck doesn't need anymore pain right now.

  Remy near screams when Logan touches his wings. They were still spasming of course, but the demon somehow managed to separate the individual mess of the tattered, tangled mesh of his feathers back into its proper three pairs.

  It's been a while since he could see the small of his own back. He was so used to having his wings hidden, worse yet when he was branded; especially considering that one of the brands was smack dab on the left side of his center wing and the closest to his spine. He felt that burn for ages after it was made. He never let anyone touch them after that. So when Logan runs a finger through the now visible crease of his spine, he shivers, feathers puffing- as tangled as they were-thoroughly unused to the feeling.

  Usually he could separate his feathery wings on his own, not completely because of the atrophy but he could do it on his own. Just...not when they were like this, never when they were like this and now they were knotted-goddess it hurt.

  He squeezes his eyes shut and he swears the grip he has on the sheets might tear them.

  “Shh, it's almost over, only two more are still tied together”

  Logan was being surprisingly gentle, but each slow pull of the ever-so-slowly-loosening-muscle was sending volts of hot agony throughout his body.

  Logan winced as Remy cried out again.

  The fae's eyes were shut tight, but that didn't stop the reflexive tears from slipping through them.

  The demon pulled the bridge of the tied feathers as gently as he could- wincing once more as Remy's pained whimpers echoed out at the action. He pulled, once, twice, three times more before the last knot finally gave way. Now loose enough, he easily moved the cinched feathers away from each other.

  That was it, no more knots.

Remy sagged in relief, giving his wings a tiny tentative flap. They weren't spasming anymore- well for now that is- so he wouldn't complain. He could sleep with his wings now at least.

  “Thanks”, whispers the fae hoarsely.

  It only takes him a second to realize that Logan hasn't moved and instead still held on of his feathers between his fingers. The demon had a pensive look on his face, one that unsettled Remy down to his stomach.

  “This isn't only caused by the atrophy, is it?”

  Remy shook his head, “nah, it's the everyday wear n’ tear, plus the overuse of the glamour and the-”

  “And the brands?”

  A rhetorical question. He stated it as fact, growling as he did so- the fae could only nod.

  Flinching a bit, Remy started to sit up, only to be pulled onto Logan's lap and pushed back down again.

  The fae blinked, eyes wide and body near frozen in terror. Did Logan expect ‘repayment’ for helping him?

  “Is there anything else that could cause your wings to behave in such a manner?”

  Remy swallowed thickly.

  “Uh-um… I did kinda get slammed into a wall by a demon today so-”

  Logan didn't say anything,he just gave a non committal “hmn”

  “...or- or if I sleep on them wrong I guess? Come to think of it that's probably what happened...”

The fae trailed off, really not liking the demon's vacant stare. What was Logan going to do to him?

The demon still didn't say anything, his brows furrowed and his pensive look grew more intense.

  Sleep on them wrong?

  The wall was definitely his fault but...when he charmed Remy…

  Was his placement of the fae in the Taxi also at fault?  What about the chaise?

  He had been tired and for as gently as he assumed he had placed Remy down, both times could have counted for the spasms of his wings.

  And no doubt the brands burned onto him...

  His fae should not be in pain at all.

  A small whimper cause him to blink out of his thoughts, the fae in his arms was trembling. Without thinking, he brought Remy closer to his chest.

  “I promise, no more pain shall befall your wings. I am no healer but I'm sure they can make a full recovery, especially now since you won't need to use your own energy for a glamour”

  “...ok…”

  Logan's brow arched. Remy's voice was soft, barely a whisper...nothing but lingering pain and fear glazed the room. The demon instantly assumed that the fae's wings were still sore- well that was nothing he couldn't fix.

  He grabbed a pillow from behind him and placed it opposite his lap, before sliding the still shaking Remy onto it. Leaving his torso and legs over the demon's. With fae prone like this, it was easy to access his wings and even easier to see all the damage the poor, abused, appendages went through.

  “I'll remove the kinks and bends from your feathers, so you can rest easy. Tomorrow we'll get some food into you, and possibly find a healer. I need you healthy-”

  Remy simply nodded…

  “This...this isn't going to be like one of those happy ending massages...right?” A weak chuckle punctuated the fae's question. But the thought still lingered and it left a bitter taste in the back of his throat. It's not that the demon wasn't attractive...it was just...he didn't...he didn't want too. But he made a deal, he'd have to regardless. He shuddered, it would be easy, wouldn't it? All he had on was a pair of boxers-

  “If you mean a happy ending in you having less back pain and me actually getting some sleep then, yes-”

  Remy couldn't help it, a sudden bout of laughter bubbled out of him, “that's not- yeah, ok. Sounds...sounds good hun”

  He was worried, about this guy doing something like that? It was still a possibility sure but just that reply, that simple bit of little naivete in that answer...he could trust Logan not to hurt him.

The demon had no idea what he had said was so amusing, but the scent of fear had dissipated so he'd take it as a win.

  “Good, then do brace yourself. While I doubt this would be as painful as before, I'm quite sure that it would still feel rather uncomfortable”

  Uncomfortable couldn't even begin to cut it.

  Remy groaned as Logan's deft fingers pinched, rolled, rubbed and squeezed at the muscles beneath his feathers. It didn't hurt per say but it sure as hell didn't feel good.

  The best way he could describe it was when your leg fell asleep and you'd have to stand on it. The staticky, pins and needles like sensation made him squirm.

  It was Not a good feeling.

  Sometimes the sensation would run down his leg, causing it to twitch, or it felt like heat at the back of his neck. He had bit his tongue once or twice, the influx of tactile information his wings were getting- he was practically overloaded. His toes curled and his fingers clenched the sheets harder. It hurt, but it didn't.

Goddess, he hated the feeling.

  To make matters worse Logan wouldn't give him a break to catch his breath or adjust. The demon just kept moving. Slowly unwinding and detangling feathers from each other and then pinching and squeezing them to remove the bends and kinks.

  While Remy's wings could be described as feathery streamers, they did not necessarily act like streamers, they were made muscle after all. The kinks and bends-after being squeezed and pinched this-way-and-that to promote circulation- would disappear without a trace; leaving a happy feathery muscle in place.

Too bad the sensation of getting them like that was God-awful. Damn it's really been forever and a half since he properly groomed them.

  One particularly hard squeeze from the demon cause Remy to help, his left leg kicking out involuntarily.

  “You need to stop squirming”

  “Sorry, I can't...I can't help it. I just- it feels so fucking weird-”

  “Elaborate”

  “It hurts but it doesn't? Pins and needles like...kinda? Just worse, a lot worse”

“Hmm, the nerve endings must be shot. Here”

The demon grabbed the fae's arms and placed them straight, next to his head”

“...what- what are you doing?”

Logan didn't answer, instead, he was running two fingers up and down between the space of Remy's wings, practically on his spine.

  The fae squirmed.

“Hush, just lay still, I'm looking for it-”

“Looking for what-?!”

Logan, seemingly finding what he was looking for, pressed down.

Crck!

  “Oh~”

  Remy's wings drooped, they completely went lax, and so did the rest of his muscles- fuck that felt good.

  “Glad it did-”

  Remy hummed, only just barely caring that he had accidentally spoken aloud.

  Logan nonchalantly moved his fingers up, pressing down on certain areas along his spine…

  ‘Crk!’

  ‘Crckk!’

  ‘Crk-pop!’

“Mhngh~”

  Whatever the hell the demon was doing, Remy had no fucking clue, but he was certain that he almost never wanted him to stop. Still, he was known to be the curious type…

  The fae's tongue felt rather heavy for some reason, but he tried speaking anyway. “ t'was that?”

  Close enough.

  “Those were pressure points, it should help restore some proper circulation to your wings, lessening your so called pins-and-needles”

  “ ‘n ya doit ‘gain?”

  Logan chuckled, it was rather amusing to see the spitfire fae like this, eyes half-lidded and body lax. His slurring words only added to the demon's amusement.

  “I can do the rest if you'd like?”

  “Mhm, plz”

  Logan just chuckled some more.

  Starting from the tense muscles in the neck, shoulders and the free area around his shoulder blades. Paying keen attention to the fae's more abused right side, Logan slowly worked his way down Remy's back. Nimble fingers moving in a small circular motion as they pressed slowly and deeply into the tissue, the tight knots and strained muscle didn't stand a chance and really neither did the fae. Pleased hums and small moans spilled from Remy's lips as his muscles and joints cracked and popped in relief. His moans soon grew louder without him ever being conscious of it. All he knew was that the fingers pressing gently on his spine were making him feel like mush. Happy sleepy, fae mush. Good mush. 'Crrk' 'Crakk' "Mnngh~"

The Demon meanwhile, simply chuckled, Remy was just about sinking into the bed. Considering how tense the fae was, the impromptu massage went on for a while, enough that by the time Logan finished, Remy was practically on his way to sleep, that of course didn't deter the demon. He continued where he left off with the fae's wings. He hated to leave things half done after all.

His wings were so used- scratch that, he was so used to pain-that the moment Logan touched Remy's wings, the fae jumped, tensing and shocked out of his sleepy state.

He hadn't expected the demon to continue with his wings, he had thought that Logan had only wanted him to shut up and sleep so that he, could actually get some sleep. It truly surprised him that the demon was grooming him.

  He hadn't groomed his wings proper in so long and he can't even begin to tell you when last he had been groomed. He had forgotten how it felt like...

The demon above him raised a brow.

  “Still pins and needles?”

  Remy shook his head, chirping out a small ‘no’, he exhaled, willing himself to relax again...Logan wouldn't hurt him...it was just grooming.

  Goddess he hadn't been groomed in ages.

Logan watched as the fae resettled, he was no fool. He knew very well that the wings of a fae were sensitive and vulnerable, so Remy allowing him to continue, especially since he was no longer in pain, was a sign of tentative trust.

  He had never groomed anyone before but the premise was simple no? Separate, detangle and remove the kinks and bends, besides, the wings he held most definitely needed it.

  With patience he wasn't usually known for, he gently pinched and rolled the bent feathery muscle beneath his fingers until it straightened. Would massaging it bring better results?

  Shrugging internally, the demon grabbed a single feather and  tried just that…

“Mnn~”

Massaging it worked better than he expected, kinks and bends filled away much faster and the feathers practically detangled themselves as they puffed up.

  “hnm~”

  Oh and Remy seemed to enjoy it, very much, quite frankly, if the fae sank any lower into the mattress, he'd fall through the bed.

Rolling his eyes, in, what was no doubt, fond amusement, the demon continued to groom his fae.

Remy's wings were clean, just a mess. Likely from only ever washing them in a shower and patting it dry with a towel. Even atrophied as they were, the demon could still feel the strength beneath it. While fae wings were usually fragile, it didn't mean there weren't a few with power. Something in his chest swelled with pride, that even at his weakest, his fae's wings were rather strong. All he needed was a proper grooming and a healer.

  The healer would be found tomorrow, he make sure of it, but for now he'd continue the grooming.

  Logan found the methodological movement very calming. He had originally expected himself to grow bored with the tedious action but it had the opposite effect instead. A plus, was the litany of pleased hums and moans from his fae, a nice filler for background noise.

The demon continued.

  And by the end of the high hour, soft, puffed feathers were open, laying neatly- separated by the junction at the spine- on Remy's back. Not a bend or kink to be found. Remy's wings were beautiful, even with the tears, scratches and burns- those the healer could fix with ease- but right now they were absolutely beautiful...and puffy.

  Honestly it looked like a baby chick with its newly coat of downy feathers. It was rather...cute.

Though he knew they would easily tangle again if he left them all ‘fluffed’ like that.

  Gently he ran his hand down them to smooth it out. Marveling at its softness. Sure he had been holding them for over an hour or so but only now did he get to freely run his fingers through them. Slowly smoothing them as he went-Remy didn't seem to mind it.

  Speaking of-Logan leaned down to listen closer- indeed he was, the fae was purring.

  Actually purring.

  The air in the room was doused with the taste of and sleep. A slow sugary flavor that the demon usually found too sweet and cloying. This time he was pleased to find it more of a honey and lilac than sugar and caramel.

  How amusing.

  Grinning and peering over the newly groomed wings, Logan could see Remy fighting with his eye-lids, literally nodding off.

“Go to sleep little fae~”

  Remy sleepily chirped out a response and it took a moment for Logan to realize that he could not, for the life if him, understand what the fae had said. So far gone was he, that Remy had slipped back into a mother tongue, the actual chirps-and what sounded like a whistle- where absolutely lost on the demon, but nonetheless amusing.

  “Shh, we'll figure it out tomorrow. Sleep~”

  That seemed to placate Remy enough, he chirps out something else but quiets down quite quickly after that. The fae's eyes finally fluttered shut, body completely lax as he falls into a deep sleep

  "Remy?"  

  He gets no reply, but the purring grew louder.

For some reason that makes Logan smile.

  The demon continues to stroke the soft feathers of his fae's wings.

  Smoothed out and as neat as they were, it was very easy to view their lovely colors. The dark gradient of purples, blues and greens was definitely unique but quite fitting for Remy.

  He'd bet they'd be even more beautiful if they were unmarred. A protective growl escaped him as his fingers traced over the brands on his fae.

  He would find a way to remove them, the burns and tears would be healed, but the atrophy… it would take quite a bit of physical therapy for Remy to be able to fly. Still, he had no doubts, his fae would manage.

  By the looks of it, if Remy's wings were fully healed, they probably would have been able to be used as additional arms as prehensile as they were…

  That brought an idea to his head, some beings were able to use their extra limbs as weapon...if fully healed, Remy would well be able to use his wings as whips, quick and powerful ones…

  Yes, a healer would definitely be found  post haste.

He liked that his Fae was strong-

  Remy's purring upped a notch

  -and soft.

  Bonus:

  When Remy woke up he was warm, very warm and very comfortable.

  He blinked sleepily, still not fully awake yet and stretched a bit; wings flaring out and fluttering a little- ohh, that felt good~

  What felt even better was the gentle petting of his wings. It was nice...soothing enough...to put him...right back... to sleep…

  Wait.

  Remy almost jumped, thankfully his memory of last night kicked in, or he would have probably hurt himself.

  Logan, in what looked like dead sleep, had one arm draped around his waist.

  The hold was not tight at all- yet still secure enough that if Remy had accidentally jumped out of his arms, the strong muscle would have likely left a bruise on his thin frame. His other arm was splayed across the fae's back, softly brushing down his feathers.

  Remy had to wonder if he had been fussing in his sleep for the demon to be petting him even as he slept.

  Either way it was... nice.

  And he probably couldn't move anyway so why not go back to sleep and enjoy a bit of pampering? After all he couldn't tell you when last he was ever this warm or even had a proper bed. If the Demon wanted to cuddle who was he to deny that?

  The Fae decided that things could be worse, Logan was...different.

  But not so bad.

    When Logan woke, he was warm-

  And there was a purring Remy on his chest.

  The fae had apparently made himself very comfortable, his ear pressed against the demon's heart, likely lulled under by the steady slow beat.

  With Remy this close, the bags under his eyes seemed prominent. The Demon bit at his lip, the sun was already up, meaning that they were to find a healer today, but looking down at his peacefully sleeping fae...maybe they could wait till later.

  Logan sighed, still running a hand through soft feathers. His fae was going to be a handful, he was sure.

  But for now, in his current circumstance…

  It was not so bad.

Nyx: I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS, THANK YOU (Dont ask how I managed this, it was a long process :P)

[vino-and-doggos]

Flame versus Fullmetal

Read on AO3

Length: 2636

Rated: T

Status: Complete

Summary:  The Fire Nation's Army is being attacked by an earthbender. Fire Lord Ozai sends in one of his men - Colonel Roy Mustang - to apprehend the troublemaker.

This was written for @chocolateches as a part of @fullmetalsecretsanta 2018!! I noticed on your blog that you seemed to like ATLA, as well as some Evil!Roy, and... well, I couldn’t pass up an evil, firebending Roy. I sincerely hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it! Happy holidays to you and yours.

As always, thank you to @flourchildwrites for being the best beta ever.

Colonel Roy Mustang looked at his small battalion of Fire Nation soldiers before him. Inwardly scoffing once again at the ragtag group of firebenders and foot soldiers, Roy ensured that they all understood their orders for the day: rounding up another batch of earthbenders to be sent to Boiling Rock.

Maybe this time they would catch the troublesome one.

At first, it was small things. Boulders placed inconveniently throughout the Fire Nation encampment. Minor earthquakes in the dead of night. Large divots in roads. Big enough to wreak havoc on a supply-laden carriage, but not destructive enough that the komodo rhinos couldn’t navigate on their own.

Then, bigger things began to happen.

Boulders were thrown at soldiers arresting an earthbender. The earthbender in custody was not the one throwing rocks; Roy was sure of it. But as they spread out and searched the area, no one else was found.

Their campsite was utterly destroyed following an earthquake that caused the ground to collapse beneath their feet. Three soldiers, one bender and two non-benders, perished in the accident. The colonel was convinced that it was no accident.

Worst yet, one of Roy’s particularly cruel (but effective) soldiers was found at the back of an alley.

A four-foot stone spike pierced the chest of his limp, lifeless body. Thick, scarlet blood coated the unnaturally jagged protrusion of earth and pooled at the soldier’s feet. His eyes were still wide with awe and fear.

The vigilante needed to be stopped. And that’s why Fire Lord Ozai dispatched Colonel Roy Mustang to the area.

Roy felt that the best way to quash the hopes of the city of Dōngchéng of was to catch the agitator. In a place larger than the small villages the Earth Kingdom was known for, yet smaller than Ba Sing Se and Omashu, it shouldn’t be as difficult as it was proving to be.

Dismissing the soldiers, Roy sat down behind his war room’s table (which was technically a war tent). The colonel’s crimson and black uniform swished and settled comfortably around him, the pauldrons at his shoulders making a gentle noise as he leaned against the tall-backed chair. Roy ran a hand through his already-mussed hair, the jet black locks falling somehow artfully over his forehead once more. Despite being only 29, he was one of the most promising soldiers, a firebender that was in line to become the immediate general to the Fire Lord.

Mustang looked down at the map of all four nations and plans for the Fire Nation’s expansion to unite the world under the flag of the flame - a new nation called Amestris. Sighing, the colonel cradled his forehead in his palm. Could this, apprehending a small-time earthbender, be the key to becoming a general for Fire Lord Ozai?

Men shouting from outside Mustang’s war room pulled the colonel from his thoughts. What nonsense had that idiotic group of soldiers gotten themselves into now? Reluctantly rising and making his way towards the slit in the tent, he felt the tell-tale rumbling of earthbending. Roy’s eyes narrowed as he flung himself out into the fray.

A young blonde girl with long, braided hair was facing three of his firebending soldiers. He rushed toward them, his pace hurried but not frantic as it wouldn’t do good to look flustered in front of his command. He reached the halfway point when a kick from the earthbender flung three pieces from the ground directly at each soldier, wiping them all out in one fell swoop.

Forcing himself to remain calm, Mustang shouted across the hubbub, “So we finally get to meet face to face. And what would your name be?”

“Heh! Like I’d ever tell you my name,” a decidedly male voice answered him. The boy looked to be around the age of ten, a dark green tunic falling over brown pants. The sleeveless tunic allowed for him to move freely to bend, but Mustang noticed that the blond’s right arm appeared atrophied in comparison to his left.

The colonel ensured that the surprise didn’t register on his face before continuing.

“Well, I can’t keep calling you The Earthbending Assailant, now can I?”

“That name isn’t nearly cool enough,” the young man complained. “How about Fullmetal?” the blond said, a cocky smirk gracing his face.

“Fullmetal,” Roy smirked right back, “I think I like that. Well, in that case, you can call me Flame!” articulating the last word with an impressive display of firebending, meant to intimidate more than maim.

Laughter echoed through the valley as Fullmetal appraised the colonel in front of him. “Showy!” he said sarcastically. “Maybe next time you’ll pay more attention to your opponent,” the blond said as he jerked his chin upward.

Roy looked above his head just in time to see a chunk of earth losing altitude fast . The colonel dove to his left, landing and rolling in the dust as a crash sounded over his right shoulder. Infuriated and somewhat humiliated, Roy rose to his feet and swiped the dust from his red and black uniform.

Colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame, snapped.

Columns of fire surrounded the earthbender, effectively trapping him behind walls of flame. Fullmetal retaliated by attempting to bring sheets of rock up around himself as a shield, but at the last second, Mustang closed the towering inferno, ensuring that the boy was unable to move at all. Breathing deeply, the colonel smirked and knew he was just getting started.

Colonel Mustang moved towards Fullmetal at a deadly slow speed, deliberately ensuring each step was heavily hitting the packed ground, menacing in sound as well as look. As Roy came closer, he realized Fullmetal was sweating - whether from the heat or his nerves was anyone’s guess, but the glint of determination was still in the blond’s eyes.

Mustang was ready to quash that gleam of hope. He chuckled menacingly as Fullmetal met his eyes.

“Did you know,” the colonel started, “that firebending is not just producing fire?” He smirked and watched as the earthbender visibly swallowed.

“Accomplished firebenders are able to control fire in ways that run-of-the-mill firebenders are not. For example, I can make this fire burn bigger, hotter than it should,” he explained with a complicated kata that raised the temperature of the fire noticeably. Fullmetal whimpered; the colonel considered himself lucky that he was able to hear it at all over the crackling inferno.

“But something that I have figured out,” Mustang continued, “is how to manipulate the fire so that the oxygen is so depleted that you’ll suffocate.”

Watching eyes widen in fear was one of Colonel Roy Mustang’s favorite parts of his job. He wasn’t disappointed when the striking golden eyes of his captive did exactly that.

The firebender began a kata that moved his hands and arms in a complicated pattern and watched with delight as Fullmetal struggled to breathe. He could tell that the kid was on the verge of collapsing and pushed it just a bit farther.

Fullmetal went limp.

Mustang relinquished the fires burning around the earthbender, allowing oxygen back into the space. Fullmetal was unconscious just as he’d hoped.

A small crowd of Fire Nation soldiers stood watch as Roy calmly straightened his uniform. He motioned two soldiers forward. “Take him to the interrogation area. Tie him up. Make sure all of the metal shields are in place so he can’t bend. Set a guard. Get me when he wakes up.” Though the orders were barked appropriately for a colonel of high regard, his voice was ragged, simultaneously filled with accomplishment and tinged with exhaustion.

The men scrambled to follow their colonel’s orders, dragging the blond away.

Roy needed a drink.

Unfortunately, the opportunity to pour himself a stiff drink never presented itself. Cleaning up the camp took far too long for his liking. Even after that tedious task was done, Roy still had to write General Bujing about the new captive, reschedule the earthbender sweep in the village, and debrief the platoon regarding the day’s events. So much to do, so little time.

As he finished his letter, his adjutant entered the room. Her blonde hair, unusual for a native of the Fire nation, was clipped in its normal, professional fashion at the back of her head, never touching her black uniform as demanded of female soldiers by the Fire Lord himself.

“Sir,” she started, her voice firm. “The boy is awake.”

“Hm,” Mustang sounded in response. He stood muttering, “Thank you, Hawkeye,” as he exited.

Entering the metal-shielded room, the colonel’s face split into an evil grin seeing the earthbender bound and surrounded by guards. Shadows crossing the man’s visage made the grin appear even more sinister, as the light from the torches placed around the room flickered. With every shift of the flame, more darkness encroached on Mustang’s face as he saw the small person, weakened and unable to escape. He nodded, dismissing the soldiers to take their posts at the door instead.

Fullmetal sat on the iron stool that was attached to the floor, jaw set and eyes glaring. His head was raised, fully upturned and making eye contact with the colonel. Despite the flame also illuminating his face, somehow the flickering did not travel into the valleys made by domination; rather, the flame just reflected youth, promise, and determination. Mustang smirked in response.

“What were your goals when you started this?” the colonel asked condescendingly. “Did you really think you would be able to take down the entire Fire Nation by wiping out a small platoon of soldiers?”

Silence.

“What���s the matter, Fullmetal?” he taunted. “Cat owl got your tongue?”

Another glare was the only response. Mustang decided to play dirty.

“I wonder if you have any family that will even miss you. Whether you’re sent to Boiling Rock or you’re dead by my hand, they’ll never know.”

A shadow passed over the younger male’s face; the colonel knew he found a nick in the boy’s armor. Now to exploit it.

“It really is a shame,” the dark-haired man continued. “Maybe your mother would cry. She would be missing her son, after all.”

A soft snarl escaped Fullmetal.

“Do you have siblings?” Mustang waited for a response that would never come, then continued as if the silence answered him.

“You’ve made your brother or sister mourn you. If you hadn’t acted out, you would have been able to go home tonight. Will they cry, as well, when they realize you aren’t coming home?”

“SHUT UP!” Fullmetal screamed. Mustang smiled evilly. Fire Lord Ozai was right, he realized; all other benders are unworthy of survival past the unification of all lands under the Fire Nation. A firebender wouldn’t have given up, wouldn’t have caved so easily. All other benders were weak in comparison to firebenders. Before, this was a platitude that Roy believed because he was told to believe it. Now, he was seeing it with his own eyes.

"Judging by your actions, you’re the oldest child,” the colonel deduced. “I grew up with many siblings myself, and although I fell right in the middle, I remember how my older sisters acted. So which is it, Fullmetal? Do you have a younger sister at home? Or a younger brother? Maybe both?” Roy prodded. When he was met with hard eyes, he tried again.

“I’ll bet it’s a younger sister. Many older brothers aren’t fond of their younger brothers, or so I’m told. Younger sisters, though… you’ll need to protect them from the harsh realities of life, won’t you? Boys that will break their heart, bullies that will push them into the dirt, bad things -”

“It’s a brother!” the blond exclaimed. “My younger brother,” he clarified quietly. Even softer, almost under his breath, Fullmetal continued, “And he’s sick.” Almost as soon as it was out of his mouth, the boy looked horrified that he had revealed so much information.

Colonel Mustang puffed out his lower lip in a pout. If the kid thought playing the sob story would work, he was sadly mistaken. “What a shame that you won’t ever see him again, then.”

“No, no, no,” Fullmetal said quietly. As he repeated the word, it grew louder and louder. “No, no, no , you can’t! He’s sick; he needs me! You can’t !”

“I can, and I will. I’ll ask you again, Fullmetal: what did you think would happen when you continually attacked Fire Nation soldiers and our camp? Did you think you would get away with it?”

The kid’s head dropped, his hair hanging over his eyes. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I thought that maybe the avatar would -”

“Would what?” interrupted Mustang. “See an earthbender attacking firebenders and step in? And on whose side would you have liked him to intervene? You were the one attacking!”

“Like hell!” Fullmetal spat. “Have you been paying attention? The Fire Nation is trying to capture Ba Sing Se! You’re getting rid of all of the benders by sending them to prison, and Ozai is just plotting to become some sort of supreme leader. Would I have been any better letting that happen, Mustang? Tell me!” Throughout the tirade, the blond’s voice continually rose in pitch and volume, becoming more frantic.

“You would have been better to obey me,” Mustang said, deadly quiet. He approached Fullmetal, towering over him, and bent down to stare straight into the boy’s burning eyes. “I am the law.”

Fullmetal was a spitfire, Roy could tell. He didn’t expect the physical spit, though, and only after it hit his face did he realize that there was only one way to deal with this brat.

Raising his hand, he hit Fullmetal - hard - and if he weren’t bound to the chair that was bolted to the floor, the boy would have flown across the room. The blond’s head snapped back to meet the eyes of the colonel before him, a red mark already appearing on the boy’s cheek.

“You’ll pay for that, you fucking BRAT!” Mustang yelled, smacking the boy again. The sound echoed off the metal walls.

In the blink of an eye, Colonel Roy Mustang produced fire from his hands, ready to direct it at the face of the child in front of him. At the last second, though, he felt heavy hands grasp his shoulder, jerking him backward.

“Colonel Mustang, what are you doing?” a rough voice with a heavy lilt asked.

“I thought I was very clear in my intentions, Captain Havoc,” he responded sternly, letting the flames he carried diminish but not extinguish entirely.

“Colonel, you’re better than this. He’s just a damn kid,” Havoc said, a pleading tone evident but not explicit.

“A kid that won’t obey my orders,” Mustang reminded his captain, danger seeping into his voice.

Havoc shook his head. “That doesn’t mean you should kill him, sir.” He paused for a moment before taking a different approach.

“If you kill him, they’ll launch an investigation. You could face an Agni Kai. It doesn’t matter that he’s a bender or the one they’ve been searching for. Turning him in alive is far better than turning him in dead.”

Another lull.

“Fine,” Mustang answered grudgingly, his eyes still alive with the light only a firebender could muster. “Take him to Boiling Rock. He’s their problem now,” he said coldly, stalking out of the room.

Mustang went back to his tent, still thinking about the kid. About Fullmetal. He knew he let his temper get the best of him; if there was one thing Roy couldn’t stand, it was a lack of respect. This child, this boy, knew exactly how to push every one of his buttons. The two could become quite formidable adversaries given a few years.

A smirk began to form on the officer’s face.

Flame versus Fullmetal.

Roy liked the sound of that.

[theonetruenorth]

The importance of Takashi Shirogane

So as my followers are aware, I had to take a bit of a hiatus from tumblr, writing and internet in general. Mostly to take care of my sick cat but also to decompress a bit. It was exhausting to try to keep up with everything that’s been happening with the Shadowhunters fandom since the news of cancellation.

To relax I’ve decided to dip my toes into a fandom I’ve hear about a lot, but I’ve never took part in. So I finally started watching (and now I’m all caught up) with Voltron: Legendary Defender. Yes, it’s a cartoon, aimed mostly for younger audience. And while it’s not the greatest show of my life, I was rather pleasantly surprised by how much I liked it. The plot is interesting enough, mostly cohesive and the animation improved a lot with time. But mostly, I will be watching for the characters, who are well-rounded and really likable.

(And yes, you can expect some VLD content appearing on this blog in the future.)

The whole point of this post is to let those of you know that are looking for good examples of representation in media about one character in particular.

Takashi “Shiro” Shirogane.

While most of the characters in the show are diverse and unique in their nationalities and races (out of seven main and supportive characters three are confirmed POC, one is most likely of Asian descent and one is an alien with a dark brown skin) I found myself amazed by the fact that a character like Shiro even exists in a popular children’s cartoon.

Some of the reasons why I believe Shiro is extremely important as a great example of representation are listed below the cut. If you are familiar with Voltron, you know all of those already. But if you haven’t watched it yet, maybe you can learn something and give this show a try. Honestly, it’s worth it. Some spoilers below, though nothing you don’t learn in the first couple of episodes (and the recent SDCC information).

RACE: Shiro is one of the main characters but some might argue that he is the main character. He’s certainly one of two whose backstory was explored in most detail, compared to others. He is Japanese and skilled and accomplished pilot in the military, highly respected and fits easily in a leadership role. How often do we get to see Asian man as the main character in American cartoons?

MENTAL HEALTH:  Shiro was been a prisoner of war for year and as a result of his captivity he suffers through frequent flashbacks and PTSD attacks. During that time he was forced to fight in the arena as a gladiator of sorts, presumably under the ‘fight to the death’ condition (it’s never outright stated as it’s a children show, but it’s heavily implied). This also contributes to a mental trauma.

PHYSICAL DISABILITY: During his time as a prisoner he was tortured and experimented on, so much that part of his hair went completely white due to the stress he went through. His captors actually amputated his arm and replaced it with a metal prosthesis. The fact that Shiro is missing an arm is not glossed over, even if the show doesn’t focus on it every five minutes. It was also revealed during the recent SDCC (slight spoilers) that before that, during his time on Earth, Shiro actually suffered from an incurable disease that caused muscle atrophy. A disease that would most likely kill him with time.

LGBTQ: It was also during the last SDCC (again, spoilers) that showmakers reveled that before leaving Earth Shiro was in a relationship with a man. It was serious enough that they thought about marriage. It wasn’t specified if Shiro is gay, bi, pan or anything else, as they wanted more people to be able to identify with him, but Shiro is definitely not straight. 

Honestly, I could go on and on but this post is already getting way too long. But just think about it.

How often do we get a leading character in a mainstream children’s cartoon that’s a person of color?

That is a victim of abuse and war and suffering through a spectrum of mental issues?

That is visibly disabled? 

And, most importantly, how often do we get a leading character (male or otherwise) that is a part of LGBTQ?

(I can only think of The Legend Of Korra, which is not surprising, considering some of the showrunners of Voltron actually worked on Korra as well.)