#nothing has actually gone into effect yet on a fed level

[16sundayss]

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[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH55

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 55: Purgatory Reunion (VII)

Qi Leren woke up. When he woke up, he felt very tired. He didn't want to open his eyes. He just wanted to let the heavy sleepiness drag him and let him continue to sleep.

But he vaguely felt that something was wrong. He should have been sitting under the rock wall, but now the thing the back of his head was resting against was not as hard as stone, and why did he feel that he was lying down...

Qi Leren woke up with fright, suddenly opened his eyes, and immediately saw Ning Zhou sitting beside the rock wall.

He didn't know when they had changed their positions. Ning Zhou's leg had become his pillow, and the blanket was put over his own body, while Ning Zhou rested by sitting against the rock wall with his eyes closed. At the moment he woke up, Ning Zhou also opened his eyes that were without a trace of sleep.

"Why don't you take a rest?" Qi Leren quickly sat up and asked anxiously.

Ning Zhou shook his head: "I’ve slept enough."

When Qi Leren looked at the time, eight hours had passed.

Since they had both woken up, Qi Leren simply moved all the picnic items from Chen Baiqi out of the item bar, made a fire, and made some hot food for Ning Zhou. The method was quite simple and crude, directly throwing a small demon crystal into a vessel filled with water. The water was immediately heated to boiling by the energy in the demon crystal, and then the pot was put on it to start heating up, skillfully cooking noodles.

While cooking, Qi Leren talked about what had happened when they were separated. When he talked about Chen Baiqi giving him special training, he looked sad: "...When I was chased by the dog, I was particularly desperate. I didn’t know when those days would pass. I wanted to jump into the sea and never come up again."

After saying that, Qi Leren felt that this was inappropriate and added: "Of course, the effects of the training were still very good, otherwise I would have died in my last task."

Saying this, Qi Leren felt stupid again; shouldn't they talk about some easy topics when meeting again after a long separation? Why did his IQ plummet so far when he saw Ning Zhou?

Sure enough, Ning Zhou showed a worried look.

"Hey, it’s nothing, am I not fine?" Qi Leren quickly changed the subject. "Where's your big bird?"

Ning Zhou released the eagle from its pet bag. As soon as it came out, it began to shake its feathers. It was fed a [Pleasing Ration] by Qi Leren and swallowed in one gulp.

When the food was cooked, they ate hot noodles, and then they continued to talk.

They weren’t good at expressing their feelings, and even have a natural shyness towards love. The two men tacitly avoided the topic of love, as if they had forgotten why they were here after the night. Ning Zhou didn’t say that he was delighted when he learned that Qi Leren had come back from the dead, nor did Qi Leren speak of his love hidden in the bottom of his heart. Inexplicably, at this moment, the two people had an intuition.

They watched carefully, and even their hearts beat faster when their fingers accidentally touched. When Qi Leren spoke several times, he couldn't express his words, but Ning Zhou didn't notice it, and he nodded.

"Aren't you curious how I knew you were here?" Qi Leren asked. Ning Zhou hadn't even known about Qi Leren’s resurrection, because letters could only be sent to the transfer station in the Underground Ant City, but Ning Zhou had gone to Purgatory after writing his letter and didn't  receive the letter.

Ning Zhou nodded his head. He really was curious. How had Qi Leren recognized that it was him when he’d seen the huge magic dragon in the lake of fire?

"Actually, this is a bit hard to explain... When I was in reality... Well, when I lived in the world I’m from, I downloaded a game called ‘Nightmare Game’ with my laptop." Qi Leren considered the statement and prepared to start from the beginning, but he choked when he started. "This... what a laptop is may be a bit complicated to explain..."

It suddenly occurred to Qi Leren that Ning Zhou, as a person born in the Nightmare World, may not know what it was at all.

"I know." Ning Zhou said, with a smile in his eyes. "I’ve done the copy task of your time."

"Really? What was it like?" Qi Leren asked curiously, his spirits rising.

"At that time, I needed to make a phone call with my mobile phone. I had to look at the mobile phone for a long time," Ning Zhou said.

Qi Leren laughed with a "pft" sound, and Ning Zhou also laughed: "At that time, I really couldn't do anything. When I saw the gas stove, I thought for a long time about where the demon crystal was installed. As for the computer, I couldn't figure it out. I guessed that it was a product of alchemy."

Qi Leren was overjoyed and laughed for a long time before asking, "Did you learn it later?"

Ning Zhou nodded his head.

"Have you ever played computer games?" Qi Leren asked again.

"Well, I like minesweeper," Ning Zhou said, looking serious and sincere.

With this said, could Ning Zhou, who liked minesweeper and probably had only played these sorts of games with his own computer, understand the Nightmare Game he spoke of? Qi Leren was deeply worried. However worries are worries, so Qi Leren tried to describe things in understandable sentences: After playing the game, he had entered the Novice Village, then found the laptop again and got the Easter Egg in the castle. Finally, he talked about the previous task, and how he had learned the news of Ning Zhou's accident in advance through the game in the laptop—of course, he didn't say that he had lost his hand and almost died. He didn't want to worry Ning Zhou.

Qi Leren comforted: "In my eyes, no matter what power you use, I believe you’ll only use it to protect the world."

Ning Zhou looked at him deeply, and his complicated mood was indescribable.

What was at the end of power? While chasing the elusive mystery, people with power were destined to move closer to power, and the closer they got, the more they lost themselves. This feeling wasn’t very strong before achieving a half-field, but after reaching the level of a half-field, every step after that was closer to one’s origin.

But in the end he didn't say anything, just nodded his head gently.

Once a person had expectations, even if they were only a little bit weak, they were no longer willing to rush to close their eyes.

He would look at his light until the day when he had to be destroyed.

　　&&&

On the way back to the Underground Ant City, Qi Leren thought that the dense sentry posts would bring them trouble, but he didn't expect the demon guards to disappear without a trace, which made him feel confused.

"When I came here before, there were many guards. Have they withdrawn?" Qi Leren wondered.

Ning Zhou looked back at the sentry post they had already passed, thoughtful.

"When no one could enter or exit because of martial law, did that have to do with you?" Qi Leren asked.

"Maybe it was because of the Devil of Slaughter," Ning Zhou quietly changed the subject. "I heard that he started to have frequent appearances in the lake of fire a month ago and broke out once. According to the task background, the Devil of Slaughter’s consciousness has broken the seal."

"Well..." Qi Leren suddenly had a thought, but didn't say it, and went on according to Ning Zhou's words: "Speaking of this, the second part of the task requires us to ‘destroy the Devil of Slaughter and gain one third of the authority of the Devil of Destruction’, but now we have no clue."

Ning Zhou hummed, his expression stiff.

Ning Zhou really was a bad liar. Qi Leren could see that he was worried. When the demon information broker he had spoken to before had said "the Devil of Destruction’s former people appeared near the lake of fire", he inevitably had made some connections.

This group of demons was probably looking for Ning Zhou, who had inherited the force of destruction.

He wouldn’t mention it yet. Qi Leren didn't want to put more pressure on Ning Zhou. He just wanted to make Ning Zhou have a better life.

"Well... Let's go back to the Underground Ant City first. I left in a hurry. I didn't ask the Illusionist when he was going to go back to the Village of Dusk. Let's go back with him. What do you think?" Qi Leren asked.

"Alright," Ning Zhou said.

"Good, good, let’s walk." The eagle flew up from behind and stopped on Qi Leren's shoulder to peck his ears.

Qi Leren helplessly touched it, and was pecked in the nose as it asked for food. Ning Zhou glanced at it coldly, and the eagle muttered "how stingy" and fluttered away with its wings.

"Don't let it get used to it," Ning Zhou said.

Qi Leren bowed his head and smiled. On a sudden whim, his right hand quietly grasped Ning Zhou's left hand. Ning Zhou froze for a moment, then trembled a little as he took his hand.

One person looked at the fluorescent plants on the left side of the rock wall, and one looked at the fluorescent night moth on the right side of the rock wall, and the two moved forward without a word. Only their heartbeats with disordered rhythms and the sweetness flowing from the bottom of their hearts secretly announced their tacit understanding.

Qi Leren's thoughts were as messy as fallen leaves swept by the wind. For a moment, he wondered whether he should take the initiative. For a moment, he felt that with the environment Ning Zhou had grown up in, he wouldn’t be able to adapt to the modern ways of love. Finally, he desperately reviewed himself, and how he hadn't talked more about love and gathered experience in his student days, so he was now like a high school student experiencing his first love... The object of his affections was still a junior high school student who was more ignorant than him.

If you want to be "unsuitable for children", you have to get married first. Do you have to get married before kissing? When you get back to the Village of Dusk, you can buy an engagement ring... Ah, you’re penniless. It seems that you have to do a task first to earn some survival days. You can't bring Ning Zhou's blue gem ring from your grave to make up for it.

Before seeing Ning Zhou, he had thought about Ning Zhou all day. After seeing Ning Zhou, his head did not rest, but he thought more and more...

Along the way, the two people held hands like no one was watching, left Purgatory on the way back to the Underground Ant City, and got on the "train". This kind of car that was pulled by a strong domesticated demon at the front on a track was called a rail car in the Underground Ant City. Qi Leren and Ning Zhou put on their cloaks, sat side by side, and returned to the Underground Ant City.

However, an accident happened.

"What, the Illusionist is missing?" Qi Leren asked in shock.

The contact person from the Village of Dusk in the Underground Ant City was a young woman named Celia, who was dressed in the style of the Underground Ant City. She nodded solemnly: "Yes, the day after you left, the Illusionist took the Soothsayer's edict to meet the Dragon Ant Queen and never came back."

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Editor’s Notes: I’ve hesitantly decided to stop including a misgendering cw when it only applies to the Illusionist’s pronouns because I worry that it will get redundant, and I think it might be more apt to use it only in cases when heavier misgendering occurs (as well as I’ve often felt a bit odd doing so since this humble editor is a femme person who uses he/him pronouns). If you would like me to continue using the warning, please let me know and I will do so.

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[mihidecet]

Sbi D&D AU: Tommy (3)

AKA: Tibi’s MCYT WritingTober, day 12.

I’m back with more d&d! I jumped on today’s “Fanmade AU” prompt from @the-only-gamer-gost ‘s list IMMEDIATELY, because after all most of you started following me due to that ahah

I hope you’ll enjoy it! <3 Maybe leave a comment if you do? I always love to hear your feedback, and maybe ideas on what you’d like to see? In any case, thank you for reading!

That is how, about four hours later, Tommy finds himself sitting on his bed, legs crossed and fingers tangling in the threads he's trying to weave together. 

It's a mix of light blues, pinks and reds that Techno called "a weird choice, but whatever floats your boat", which had sent his patron into hysterical laughter. Tommy had hoped he'd been sarcastic, as he'd colour-picked from Techno's own outfit. 

But one could never be too sure with the Blade: he was a cryptic man, with a cryptic past and an unwavering unwillingness to share anything about what he thought about, anytime, about anything. 

Which was fine. Tommy liked guessing, and he considered himself smart enough to be able to start picking up clues. Most of the time.

He was no Phil, who was apparently able to understand everyone, everywhere, at any time. Even animals, too, which had been a concerning discovery. Not the fact that he could understand and be understood by animals, that was perfectly fine once considering he had horns due to making a literal deal with a demon, and Techno was half pig. It was just that Tommy had found out Phil could speak with animals by finding the elf in deep conversation with a passing squirrel - who had apparently been extremely rude and stolen some of the nuts Phil had been gathering. The disagreement had been resolved by splitting the nuts evenly, as the squirrel had had a family to feed.

The thing was, Tommy had had a chance to talk about the infamous friendship bracelets with the other two as they'd walked back to the tavern, and by now he knew that all three of them owned one. But what Phil hadn't neglected to comment on was that - to his knowledge - Techno didn't own one. Which made sense, on a certain level. He was the one making them, and he seemed to own the strings to make them. Phil had been meaning to buy one to gift him, but he's said he knew it wouldn't have been the same. And he couldn't ask Techno where he could find the materials needed and keep it as a surprise. Not to mention that he didn't know how to replicate the intricate weaves and knots of the bracelets; he could try, but he knew he wouldn't be able to easily succeed. 

Which left Tommy with the perfect chance.

The plan was simple. 

Techno had offered to help him rebuild his bracelet, but he’d never explicitly said if Tommy was going to weave his own or if Techno was going to make him a second one. 

So, once they were all fed and satisfyingly comfortable, Techno would take out his threads and start working on it. Then, with his usual enthusiasm, Tommy would ask if he could also help. Maybe by learning how to weave together bracelets himself. 

Techno would humm, but probably give in after a bit of insistence. He never really enjoyed verbal conflict, and Tommy was counting on that. 

Then everything would be set! Tommy would choose the colours for Techno’s bracelet, make it with his help, and everything would be good!

As of right now, most of the steps in his plan have gone off without a hitch. 

The only thing not working perfectly well is his own skills at weaving - maybe once he used to have an artisan’s hands, but now they’re clumsy, less sensible. The effects of not being used to his newly found powers at first had been to constantly - and accidentally - set his own hands on fire. With permanent scars up to his elbows and a handful of points where the burns charred away his sensibility, he’s not much one for delicate and precise work. 

But Tommy is nothing if not determination personified, so he grabs each strand with too shaky hands and does his damned best.

Techno is sitting across from him, also on the bed, mirroring his posture and slowly explaining each braiding step. His voice is lower than usual, a side effect of being extremely tired, but he’s not snappish or strict. He’s unexpectedly calm and mellow: Tommy wonders if it’s the exhaustion or just how Techno behaves when they’re not in life-or-death related situations.

All things considered, once he understands what he has to do, the slow, repetitive movement becomes extremely soothing. He can see Techno doing this to relax in the few moments of downtime their lives allow them.

They're not alone in the room.

Phil is meditating on one of the other two beds in the room. He’d been drained after the fight, looking after them all and taking care of the few civilians that got injured due to the attack. 

After they’d gotten back into the room, he’d disappeared for a moment in order to go bathe, then returned, given them all a final look and then promptly passed out on the bed with a smile on his face. 

Wilbur had made sure to fix the covers around him. 

The tiefling was currently also sleeping, but he was stationed on the same bed Techno and Tommy were sitting on. It made for a bit of a cramped situation, but Techno had stated that he wasn’t going to move anymore if it wasn’t to go to sleep, and Wilbur had said that he always took the bed closer to the window. 

So there he was: curled up between them, one leg on Tommy’s lap and his back pressed against Techno’s side. 

If Tommy had been any less observant and in the mood for a discussion, he would have mentioned how Techno could have easily moved half a meter away in order to be extremely more comfortable, or how Wilbur usually just chose any random available bed. 

But he was tired and he had other objectives - he was already planning on bothering Techno, getting him annoyed would only be counter-productive. And Tommy was also quite observant: he still remembered how Techno had jumped into a blow aimed at Wil’s throat just a couple of hours earlier, saving his life and efficiently dispatching of the brute trying to kill him. 

Everyone was still feeling a bit messed up after all those close calls, there was no need to state the obvious. Especially when saying nothing meant Tommy could feel the warmth of Will’s still very much alive body against him.

It doesn’t take much time; they’re bracelets after all, you can only make them so long. 

Tommy stares at the one in his hands, and is suddenly filled with so many contrasting feelings. 

Joy is the first, of course. He’s been able to achieve so much since he left his hometown, and everything he’s achieved has been due to his own determination and intelligence. He might not be the smartest person ever - he can name at least one, even though that doesn’t necessarily mean he will - but even he can’t deny how well he’s been able to play the cards he’s been dealt. 

Then there’s shock, at the realisation that he has actually become friends with the legend he used to hear people talk about in hushed whispers while he was still living in his hometown. 

Melancholy is another: a part of him longs for what - who - he left behind. 

Then he feels like he needs to get better at making bracelets, and maybe sleep for a couple of days. His back is hurting and the scabs on his arms are already itching up a storm and it is "bored patron with too much free time" levels of annoying. 

As Tommy stomps down the protests of his patron inside his own head, he hears Techno hum lightly to catch his attention. 

"You're done? I finished yours. Unless you prefer to keep the one you made yourself." Techno comments, offering the bracelet he's just completed. Wilbur shifts slightly as he's lightly jostled when Techno reaches towards Tommy, but he goes right back to sleeping. 

Tommy gives him an honest smile and a heartfelt "thank you", then wastes no time in grabbing his new friendship bracelet: a stunning thing in black, red and orange that looks as fierce as he is powerful.

"And here, this is yours." Tommy says, after a moment of unabashedly admiring the stunning handiwork he now owned. It wasn't like his old one, but it still felt the same - the meaning of it was intact, and the shape and colours were similar. One could even say that now it meant more: after all, they'd made it together, in what nobody could deny had been a true bonding moment.

Tommy's hand, holding the bracelet he made, stretches out towards Techno.

There's a distinct pause as Techno's hands hovers in the air and his eyes widen in what looks like pure shock - Tommy has *never* seen anything like it, Technoblade is never surprised. And yet.

"Uh?" 

Tommy decides it is getting a bit too warm in the room, as doubts and worries start filling his mind: what if he doesn't like it, it looks so bad compared to the ones Techno made, after all it's his first try, he should have asked for more string to practice and made him a really good one. The young man pushes the bracelet into Techno's hand hastily - the sooner this is over with, the better. 

"We figured you didn't make one for yourself, so I made you one. Consider it as from all of us. Now you're *our* friend, Techno, and there's nothing you can do about it!" He concludes with a proud grin, hoping it masks his internal worry. Thankfully, he's still fearless enough to keep eye contact, because that allows him to see Techno's face simply melt as his fingers wrap around the bracelet once, then open up to allow him to study it closely - Tommy would call it reverently, but then his patron would laugh again.

"... Thank you." Techno murmurs a few moments later, and with that all of Tommy's fears and doubts are smashed like fragile glass, scattering into the nothingness. A bright smile opens up on his face and he's unable to stop himself from beaming as he lightly punches his friend's shoulder.

"No problem, big guy. ... Now, where do I put this so that nobody accidentally breaks it again?" He asks, tone light and humorous in hope of exiting quickly the sweet moment they'd entered, which was turning into awkwards at the speed of light.

"Well, if you have like a necklace, you could tie it there and keep it hidden under all your shirts." Techno drawls out, sounding more and more tired as he goes on. 

Tommy decides it's as good a time as any to finally hit the hay, so he stands up and stretches his back - reveling in the satisfying pops that follow. 

"That is a smart idea, big guy. Have you been sitting on it for a while?" Tommy jokes, starting to fix his bed. 

"Well, it was actually Phil that did it first. He tied it to the same necklace he keeps his engagement ring on."

Tommy chuckles, Phil always knows best- his arm freezes in the air, one hand still holding his pack because he'd been meaning to look for something he could use as a necklace but now his brain is just static. 

He turns back towards Techno, who is staring back with a mix of sheepishness and confusion. 

"What- what do you mean engagement?" Tommy asks in a feeble voice and Techno just rubs the back of his neck shrugging. 

"He's supposed to get married when he goes back, apparently."

Tommy starts gesticulating wildly, pointing first at Phil, then at Techno, then at the world around them as he loudly mumbles his way into about twenty different beginnings of sentences before his shoulders drop and he shuts his mouth.

A beat passes. 

And to be honest, Tommy is too tired to be thinking about this, but-

"What do you mean go back? Is he gonna leave us?" He asks, and Techno looks extremely uncomfortable on the other side of the room. Instead of an answer coming from him, the voice that speaks first comes from behind Tommy.

"I'm not gonna leave you, Tommy. If anything, I plan on bringing you all for the ceremony." Phil mumbles, scratching his stubble as he sits up on the bed. Damned elves and their need for just a handful of hours of sleep, now Tommy has to feel awkward for nothing.

Phil stands up with a groan, then stretches; taking a couple of steps forward, he nods at Techno as he claps a hand on Tommy's shoulder. 

"Help me push the beds together?" 

"Only if Wilbur gets up, I'm not moving the bed with him on it." Techno deadpans, moving to the bed Phil's closest to in order to help him lift it - they're not getting thrown out of the tavern for being too loud at three in the morning. 

A deep chuckle comes from the ball that is Wilbur's not-so-sleeping body, and his performance is betrayed even more by how his tail starts swishing left and right. 

"But what if I asked please?" Wilbur says, one eye peeking from his crossed arms. 

"Then you're staying there with that bed." Techno replies instantly and a moment later the bed between him and Phil is lifted. 

Wilbur huff, rolls out of bed, waltzes towards Tommy - messes up his hair just because he's in a good mood - and quips back:

"You're no fun, Technoblade."

A couple of minutes later, once they've all found their places on the bed, Tommy is resting with his head against Phil's chest and his tail wrapped around Techno's leg - a mirror to Wilbur's which is tied around the arm slung over his side. 

It's comforting, and warm, and Phil's carding his hand through his hair. 

Techno's new friendship bracelet is an unfamiliar feeling pressed against his chest, but he knows he'll get used to it. 

Stifling a yawn, Tommy whispers:

"Congrats on your marriage, big guy." 

Just so that Phil's wheeze is the last thing he hears before he falls asleep.

[bitoffairydust]

Yesterday we came home from the hospital as a family of three.

Things haven’t been super smooth sailing, nor did I expect them to be, but our little one is doing well and I’m healing fine so that’s really all we could ask for.

Wednesday was a bit of a whirlwind. I was scheduled to go into the hospital for my induction at 5, so we spent the morning doing a bit of last minute clean up around the place. Then around 12, someone from L&D called and said if we were available to come in earlier, we could just show up whenever. We still had a few things to finish up so we had lunch, I took a shower while my wife did the dishes, then she took a shower and got the cats set up for a few days home alone before we called an Uber to head to the hospital.

We got there around 3:30-4 so not super early but they got us into the delivery rooms right away and someone came over to go over a few questions (medical stuff and what I was hoping for with the birth). I got hooked up to the contraction and fetal heartbeat monitors, they got my IV line in, and then we went over the induction options for me. Based on my last check up, I was about 1.5 cm dilated, so before anything else they had to get me to about 3 cm, which they offered to do with either the foley balloon or misoprostol. Then the plan was to start me on oxytocin to get contractions going. I requested the miso, cause I figured there would be enough things going in and out of my vagina for the evening without an additional thing thrown in there 😅

It actually took a little while for the induction to start because as it turns out, three people (myself included) showed up for their induction within 5 minutes of each other and I was the last so it was closer to 7 before the resident came to examine me. In doing so they found I had actually progressed to 3 cm on my own since my last appointment so they were able to just get me started up on oxytocin.

Contractions started up pretty much instantly but they were very manageable. I’d say just from the oxy progression, the worst contraction I got was maybe a 5 on the scale from 1 to 10. Then they ran through the dosage and did another exam to see where I was at. They didn’t give an exact number then but I think it was somewhere between 4 and 5 cm. Before starting me up on another dosage of oxytocin, they went ahead and tried to break my water as it hadn’t yet. They didn’t actually manage to fully get it, and honestly, at that point, them trying to get it to break was actually more painful than the contractions I’d experienced that far.

That changed pretty fast once they established they’d gotten enough of the membranes for the time being. I’m fuzzy on the timeline but I think it must have been close to 10 at that point, and the pain level climbed very quickly along with contraction intensity and frequency. I tried to bounce on a ball for a bit and the nurse showed my wife some pressure points to try and help with the pain but it did nothing. Around 10:30 I requested the epidural, which was unfortunate timing on my part as the anesthesiologist had just gone in to assist with a c-section. By the time she was out and got to my room it was about 11:30 and pain was an easy 10 on the scale with contractions maybe a minute and a half apart.

The epidural itself went in pretty smoothly but at first there wasn’t much to be said for relief. Since they mentioned it could take 15 minutes to really be felt I didn’t think much of it, and I did feel like things were getting a bit better as minutes passed. The last contraction I was asked about felt more back down to a 5 on the pain scale so the anesthesiologist left. Unfortunately, that 5 turned out to be a fluke because pain shot back up pretty quickly and I was soon at a 10 again, no matter the dosage boosts.

That part was quite honestly the worst of it all, having expected some sort of relief and finding it to be just as worse as before. To make it worse, baby was not handling those contractions well. His heart beat would drop with the start of each contraction, though it picked up before the end of them so though they wanted to keep an eye on it it wasn’t cause for intervention yet. The nurse monitored his heart rate with me laying flat on my back, on my right side, on my left side and then sitting straight up. The latter was the slightly better option for him, but definitely did nothing to help my pain management. She did get me back on my back to try and relieve me a bit since the difference to the effect on baby wasn’t huge but at that point contractions were relentless. I was dealing with back labor contractions, which were maybe a minute apart, and because they suspected the placenta had detached a bit when they tried to break my water, when a contraction would subside, the pain in my abdomen would become more prominent and almost to the same level. It made it feel like I was contracting non stop with no break for catching my breath or trying to recuperate.

Around 2 in the morning there were a few people in the room examining me and trying to figure out the best course of action. A C-section being needed started being mentioned if things didn’t improve, but I was at a little more than 9 cm by then. The OB and the anesthesiologist had a talk outside the room and decided to re-do my epidural as it had clearly failed (they did an ice test and it was clear I wasn’t frozen anywhere at all), and if I were to end up needing a c-section, I’d have to have it redone anyway.

She took two tries to get everything situated in my back. That second try did the trick. I don’t think I can even describe the amount of relief when my foot started feeling warm and then going numb, and within maybe 5 minutes it was amazingly painless. They did another ice test and this time I felt no cold at all anywhere, and when the nurse pointed out I’d just had a contraction it cemented it because I’d not felt it at all. The only thing I could feel at that point was a bit of abdominal pressure every now and then. And I will say, I did have a great team with me. Everyone was very empathetic and trying their best to get me to feel some form of relief before the second epidural. And they seemed almost as relieved as me when that last one finally worked - especially because after that baby’s heart stabilized.

By the time the epidural was done, even though they figured I had likely progressed to 10 cm, they elected to let me rest for a bit, and give baby a chance to keep making his way down, so I got to catch a breather until about 4 am. Then they told me it was time to try and start pushing, with the nurse guiding me since I still couldn’t feel any sort of contraction. I pushed through maybe four or five contractions without huge progress, and the OB came in to assess and established baby needed a bit of help coming out. They set up the forceps and had me push through another couple of contractions, but they were pretty week and hard to catch even for the nurse by then, and baby’s heart rate was starting to struggle again. So they got on the phone to get a room prepped for c-section, and the doctor told me I would get to push through one last contraction, but if nothing happened we’d have to go into surgery.

The nurse tried to wait for a good one (she had already reupped the oxytocin drip at that point) and by some miracle, the next push for his head half out and with the second one it was completely out. The rest of his body followed quickly and before I had even caught up with it all, I had his tiny little body on me.

Even though they’d brought someone in from the NICU just to be safe, he ended up being perfectly okay. I needed a bit more attention because I had more bleeding than normal, and I had to have 4 stitches and another IV line put in to help with the blood loss. Then we stayed in the delivery room until about 6 at which point we were brought over to our postpartum room.

Since then nursing has undoubtedly been the biggest challenge. He did have a tongue tie, but he struggled from the get go. He would latch well but lose it and then get frustrated and cry. He also is a very lazy eater - I’d spend easily 30-45 minutes per side trying to get him to stay aware long enough to take in maybe 15 minutes of proper feeding, but he’d start smacking his lips practically the moment he was done, and he’d wake up hungry again within the hour.

Unfortunately there was no lactation consultant on staff as she was on vacation this week. People commented time and time again about how I had no supply issue, and his latch (when he was latched) was good, but it didn’t seem to help. I also felt I kept getting conflicting information as one moment he’d have crystals in his urine to indicate potential dehydration, and the next they’d be telling me he had barely loss any of his birth weight and was perfectly on target for that.

We did decide to get his tongue tie cut as it seemed to really be frustrating him at feeds and make it harder for my breast to properly fit into his mouth. The feed that followed the cut was easily the best we’ve had to date, but unfortunately it went downhill from there. After we got home and I tried to feed him last night, he did fine on the right side but then only lasted 10 minutes on the left and then lost it, started to scream and wouldn’t latch again. I haven’t been able to make him latch on the left side since, and I only managed to get him latched to the right a couple more times before we ran in the same problem, so we had to go ahead and start giving him bottles. I’ll be trying to work through it with a lactation consultant as soon as possible, and I’ve now started pumping, but in the meantime, him being properly fed was the biggest thing.

He does also have a small fracture on his right clavicle, likely from the forceps, but the pediatrician said that will resolve on its own within the week. In the meantime we just have to be very cautious how we move his right arm, and she prescribed him Tylenol if need be.

In the meantime we’re just trying to settle down to our new sleep deprived routine. But then looking into all the sweet, funny faces he makes both when asleep and awake makes it feel pretty worth it.

- Marie

[programaticallydelicious]

Her Tools

An eye blinked in the dark, flicking from here to there as it gazed at the star and surrounding planets. It vanished with a blue flash, only to reappear further in. Rings of gold and whorls of silver spiraled out from its center as it inspected the area, tendrils reaching toward the husk of the burnt-out world nearest its parent.

“The star’s well has been almost completely tapped. This is the first time in living memory that any area within influence was livable.” The voice cut off with a hoarse cough, before returning. “Even so, mana is thin enough to cause ill effect.”

A blink, then another. A golden lens focused on the charred remains of the world nearest its star. Motes of light drifted from the lens and eye as it shifted, the view of the planet slowing to a stop, before abruptly speeding up in reverse.

“The first world is dead. He, or she, never stood a chance so close to their Well. It may not have lived long enough to even be aware of its existence.” The world continued to move backwards within the lens, faster and faster still. “No evidence of any rites performed, so the others here may never have been aware of-”

The view glowed brightly as waves of green and blue washed over it, rapidly and repeatedly. As they receded, the golden lens rippled and slowed, coming into focus on a verdant and bright gem spinning in place of what was now a corpse.

“Never mind. Mark this system for full temporal investigation should mana levels rise enough to support it. He survived the well, only to be devoured.”

As the now-dead world spun in view, pricks and webs of light rapidly grew in the shadows beyond the Well. Slowly, they receded back to nothing, the entire history of a civilization rewound in a few moments.

The eye blinked, and the lens dissolved in a shower of gold and silver. It blinked again, and before it was another world, choked in clouds and smothered in warmth. “The second world yet lives, though she is being smothered by her sister’s pull on their well.”

The brilliant light reached from the eye again, but faded from view. “I cannot perform a survey on the other inner worlds. She is draining” coughing interrupted the statement, as the eye blinked and vanished, reappearing much further out.

“She is actively drawing mana in, even now. Likely why this system remained unlivable.” The eye looked down at the fifth world, with its swirling, endless storms of copper and cream. “This one is dead, as are all of its children. Evidence thus far would suggest the third being at fault.

Gold and silver twisted and twined towards the planet and its moons, coalescing into another brilliant lens. The planet and its moons slowed, stopped, and reversed their dance. Faster and faster they moved, the endless ballet a shadow of the life they once had. Blue and green filled the view, and then receded.

“The last to die was the parent. By the time of his death, all of his children were already gone.” The eye shrank as the reflection flared with brilliant copper, before reversing yet again toward the present. “He seems to have fed them to her of his own accord, before he himself was betrayed.

As the dance moved towards its demise, a brief glimmer of copper could be seen before her power enveloped the giant. “He used his power on one last thing, before she took him.”

The view on the lens shifted, following the last flash of power from a dying world as it struck a meteor and tilted it towards a new target. “Astounding. He could have been a real contender on the larger scale.” As the meteor tumbled and turned, it sped and spun around, faster and faster as the golden lens moved ahead.

And it struck, waves of earth and stone, water and fire racing away as the skies of the third world clouded, then receded again. “Clearly, it was not enough to follow through.” The planet spun in view, faster and faster as she approached the now.

Then she stopped, and the eye blinked. And blinked again. “Something is…” The gold and silver flared brighter, flecks of light bleeding off as the planet remained locked. Blue and green flooded the view, tainted the lens. Veins of it pulsed and pumped as they overtook the gold and silver.

A pair of eyes opened before the one, sparing a glance for the artifice before focusing on the surveyor. “Welcome, Witness. I have long awaited your arrival.” As she spoke, the view split and multiplied, fractured by the billions, and then fragmented again. Every view was from her surface. From above, from below, from the water and the land. From every point in every time, she looked upon herself.

Her child danced around her, tracing a circle with twelve motes of blinding power. As the moon approached the beginning, a pure note rang from the heavens. Eight billion faces looked to the sky, eyes reflecting the brilliant blue and green mana. A second note rang out as the mana fell upon the planet’s surface.

A third note rang out as more flooded from within her depths. Eight billion tongues spoke in ten thousand languages. “Come, my children.” A fourth note rang as paths of stone and dirt, tar and concrete flared to light.

Ten thousand faded to one as the fifth note rang out. “Our penance is done, and our freedom is at hand.” When the sixth note shattered the skies, lines of power and water, information and travel all shone brilliant blue and green.

Mana flooded upwards as the seventh note rang out, arcing across the horizon as it jumped from node to node, dish to dish. It spread beyond the moon as the eighth note rang out, striking the sun’s well directly, and reaching out to grasp the dead and dying planets surrounding her.

As the ninth note rang out, their paths were suffused with mana, their complex dances marking out circles within circles, a sigil the size of her entire system. The power flooded outward as the tenth note rang, striking the nearest stars first before moving on.

When the eleventh note was struck, the entire galaxy was limned with her power. “The eleventh hour is at hand, and this petty war is over. It’s mine now. All of it.”

The light began to fade as the twelfth note was struck.

Author's Note: So, this story is kind of a mess. I found it while digging through my old google docs, and apparently I wrote it in August of 2019. I never actually posted it because I lost track of what I was doing and where I was going with it partway through, and it wound up as a very prettily described pile of nonsense. I have no plans to attempt to fix it, because they would all require scrapping it and starting over.

Make of it what you will?

[transsergio]

Emotions That I Simply Do Not Have (Read on AO3)

Chapter 3 - His And Hers, For Better Or Worse Chapter 2 - I'm Not Gonna Repeat Myself Chapter 1 - More Like A Relapse

Penemily + Hotchreid / Mature / 2011 words in this chapter

Emily and Penelope put their plan into motion; Spencer arrives. (This is the final chapter of this fic! thank you to everyone who kept up with it this week!)

Hotch’s advances stop. Or, become marginally less obvious.

In his third text this week, Hotch asks, “Do you need anything from break room?” It is only Tuesday. Emily knows that if she lifts her head, she will see his beady black eyes through the glass. He’ll be staring at her, hoping to see her fingers working over her tiny keys, telling him that yes, she’d appreciate a bottle of water or any other menial task that will bring him out to the bullpen. She’d rather text Penelope to peek through the security cameras, to see exactly how far their one-night stand has gotten her. Yes, sleeping with the boss comes with great advantages, like your office becoming a cage.

Emily does her paperwork in silence. She’s hellbent on leaving at four forty-five, no matter what Hotch might throw at her to keep her in his line of sight. At four thirty, Emily turns off her cell’s ringer. She is escaping to her salvation, a night of face masks and a season rerun of the Bachelor with her girlfriend. As she closes down her computer and organizes her files, she glances about. Derek is long gone, citing a date with his television, couch, and dog. Reid finished his work hours ago, but plays chess against himself until Emily’s ready to head out together. And JJ is on a phone call, likely with Will, likely about to tell their son she’ll be home a little late again. Emily doesn’t see Rossi, but at his age, you never know how many bathroom breaks he’ll need.

As Emily rises with her back to Hotch’s door, Reid follows. They head to the elevators. She’s excited to dish about her later plans, as Spencer is her only known ally outside of Penelope. In return, Spencer tells her about his last date.

“You’re saying he forced you to make eye contact?” Emily asks as the elevator encapsulates them.

“Yeah. It was the most uncomfortable dinner I’ve had yet. Every time I was looking elsewhere while I spoke, he’d say, ‘Eyes on me.’ I don’t think we’ll be going out again,” Spencer adds with a chuckle.

Emily raises her eyebrows. “No kidding. Maybe we could get him on some kind of watchlist for bad first impressions.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but I did block his number before the night was over.”

Emily laughs and bumps Spencer with her elbow. “I don’t blame you.”

The elevator dings and releases them on the parking level. Emily makes for her car and Spencer for the subway, despite Emily’s repeat offer to drop Spencer off herself. A part of her is glad, though. She wants to get home fast and not leave a second empty.

By home, of course, she means Penelope’s apartment in all its purple and glitter. They’re settled in her living room by five-thirty, television hooked up and face masks elegantly adorned, a blanket solidifying them as one happy mass. They plow through three episodes before they remember the masks could’ve come off halfway through the first, and that they haven’t ordered dinner.

“Pizza sound good?” Emily emerges from their cocoon, stretches, and finds Penelope’s stash of takeout menus in the kitchen.

Penelope joins her at the counter. “Hm. Maybe Thai? Wait, what’s with the face?”

“Nothing.” Emily tries to mask her shudder. “Just… Hotch, he mentioned something about Thai in one of his messages.”

“What, did it give him diarrhea?” Penelope teases. She looks for Emily’s little smile and the crease between her eyebrows, the sign that Penelope was funny even if Emily won’t admit it. It doesn’t come. Penelope recalibrates. “No worries. We'll get something else then.”

“I’m sick of it, Pen,” Emily says. She slaps the menus down. “If he’s making my job harder and me less effective, why should I stay in the department? Our communication is horrible, I’m agitated in the field, and I can’t get him to stop. I’m running out of options.”

“Okay, slow down.” Penelope rubs Emily’s back in light, soothing circles. “You’re hungry and fed up, and you have every right to be, but let’s have some food before making big decisions like leaving the job that lets me call you every hour. I’ll pick. You get comfy. Go, shoo.” And she scoots Emily into the living room with a pat on the ass.

“Fine,” Emily raises her hands in surrender, “fine, I’m going.”

When dinner arrives (gyros from the Mediterranean place a couple blocks over), Emily devours hers. It’s gone before Penelope can pry the foil from her own meal, and Emily’s head is where her plate used to be.

“Oh, Angel,” Penelope sympathizes. “It’s going to be fine.”

Emily nods against the table. “Yeah, I think so. But I don’t want him fired. He’s a good leader, and he needs this job. His wife died, and before that they were in witness protection. That’s got to do something to a person, right? He risked everything and he lost it all.”

Penelope chews thoughtfully. “Maybe we don’t need to get Hotch fired, but we can play it like survival of the fittest – as long as you’re faster than somebody else, he won’t catch you.”

“What?”

“I was watching this thing on the Discovery channel about jungle cats hunting and how they go for the weakest of the pack. It was really sad because you don’t want the lions to starve and at the same time you don’t want the antelope to die, but that’s not the point. If we latch him onto someone else, he’ll forget all about you.” Penelope wipes her hands clean. “Like magic, you’re free!”

For a moment, Emily has hope. Of course they can hook him up with someone else. It’s what every classic sitcom Emily raised herself on has implemented. There’s only one problem. “We don’t know any single straight women.”

A wicked smile flashes across Penelope’s face. “Who said anything about a woman?”

*

“Are you sure you want to do this? A workplace relationship is exactly what I’m running from,” Emily says.

Spencer’s voice crackles over the line. “It’s honestly fine. According to the exit polls of the 2008 elections, about four percent of Americans were gay, lesbian, or bisexual. Roughly one-hundred and thirty-one point three million people voted. If every vote counted also answered that exit poll, that would be approximately five million, two-hundred and fifty-two thousand people identifying as such.”

“Yeah?”

“Hotch could be one of them, is all I’m saying.”

“Right. But I want to be sure you’re comfortable.”

“Emily, I promise. I wouldn’t be going if I couldn’t handle it. Besides, if he’s as straight as he looks, we’ll have awkward small talk and I’ll go home. It won’t kill me.”

“If you say so. Oh, I’ve got to go, Spence. Good luck,” Emily says. She snaps her phone shut and turns.

Penelope stands in her kitchen with two glasses of wine. She wears neon pink lingerie, a 1960’s inspired sheer robe with fur trim, layered over a matching slip.

“You’ve got to go?” Penelope sips her glass and leaves a pink lipstick print around the rim. “You’re going to leave me here all alone?”

Emily bites her lip. “Not a chance.”

*

An hour later, Emily and Penelope are curled around one another in Penelope’s lavender sheets. They’re sweaty, warm, and flushed.

“And you thought I couldn’t take your mind off it,” Penelope smirks. Her bragging is part bravado; she’s honestly glad Emily didn’t rip her robe to pieces.

“Eh,” Emily pants. “All part of my plan. I know how you love to be right.” And wow, did it ever feel so good to be wrong.

Penelope giggles and toys with Emily’s hair. She loves this part especially. When it’s just them, sleepy and well cared for, and Emily seems so defenseless. Her eyes are softer, her muscles lighter, and she lets Penelope put her loose strands into tiny braids. But this time, one of their ringers pops the bubble.

Emily hoists herself up and snatches her cell phone from the nightstand.

She turns to Penelope and mouths, “It’s Spence.”

Penelope hisses back, “Put him on speaker, dummy!”

So she does. The voices on the other end are muffled by fabric. It’s as if the phone is being rolled through a load of laundry. Penelope fumbles for the mute button and silences their side.

“It’s a butt-dial,” she says, her heart beating as rapidly as it was just minutes ago. “Oh my god, we really are secret agents.”

Emily tries not to encourage her. It’s thrilling, obviously, but her stomach twists. They’re invading Spencer’s privacy. “We should hang up.”

“Yeah, we really should,” Penelope agrees. Emily reaches for the red button that will disconnect them when they finally hear clearly.

“Um, is Jack home?” Spencer wonders.

“No, he’s with Jessica. If this is about a case, I don’t need to chance him hearing the details.”

“Actually,” Spencer coughs, “this is more of a… personal matter.”

“Oh? What’s up?” Hotch sounds genuine enough. He probably thinks of Spencer like a son. Emily wants to pull Spencer out and abort the plan. This is too far.

“I noticed you and Prentiss haven’t been cooperating well lately.” Spencer says, so naturally. “Emily’s my friend, and I was wondering if there’s anything I can do to help?”

A beat passes. “No, nothing that I’m aware of.” Hotch answers. “I respect you and your intentions, Spencer, but I don’t know—”

Spencer is curt. “I think you do.”

“I do, what?”

“You know. I think you might be the problem actually, sir.”

When Hotch doesn’t respond, Spencer continues. “I think you and Emily have a sexual history together. I think you’ve been trying to repeat that history, and she doesn’t want to. I think you’re looking for a way to forget Haley while you grieve her, and that you believe Emily is the solution. In reality, you’re looking for someone to dominate and let you feel in control while your life spirals out from under you, and for someone who will reject you so these wishes go unfulfilled and you aren’t at fault – the other party is. I think it stems from the guilt you feel regarding Haley’s death, both in that you blame yourself for making her a target, and that you couldn’t stop Foyet from killing her.”

Emily and Penelope exchange glances. Spencer has said everything the team considered privately, and tied it back to Prentiss in one neat, factual statement. All that was left was the aspect the team couldn’t predict; how Hotch would react.

“Do you want a drink, Reid?”

What?

“Uh, sure? What- what kind?”

“I have scotch, lemonade, and Juicy Juice.”

“Lemonade sounds good.”

“Good.”

Dishes clatter as Hotch pours for them. Emily and Penelope wait, hanging up completely disregarded.

A cushion wheezes nearby. Hotch’s voice is now much closer. They can feel his vibrato through the tinny speakers. He asks, “Are you confident in your profile?”

Spencer takes a gulp of his drink. “Fairly so, sir, yes.”

“And if I asked you to prove it?”

“Sir?”

“You’re positing that I want to dominate someone and simultaneously, am hoping to be rejected. If you’re right, I’ll make my move and be discouraged when you give me the go-ahead. Maybe I’ll even have a breakdown. Sobbing, psychosis, the works. Do you want to find out?”

“Okay,” Penelope throws up her hands. “This feels icky again. No. Uh-uh. I don’t wanna know.”

Emily shushes her sharply. They’ve just missed a piece of the conversation. “Hold on, hold on.”

“And you’re sure about this?” Hotch questions.

“I’m sick of everyone asking me that.” The other line rustles into white noise. Briefly, it clears. They hear two gasps and what has to be the fumble of bodies.

Hotch rasps, “Come upstairs.”

“And that’s enough!” Penelope slaps the cell phone shut. “I need some air.”

“No kidding.” Emily shakes her head. “Maybe I missed my shot.”

“You take that back.”

Emily leans into her girlfriend, grinning all the while. “Make me.”

[aros001]

Read through light novel vol. 15. Random thoughts.

Well, I just found one of my favorite volumes of this series. For all the right and wrong reasons.

There is a certain trope or term I've heard of for comedy. Where a joke or skit can be really funny but can also go a little too far with the performance to where it can be a little annoying. But there are also plenty of times where the joke/skit takes it even FURTHER than that and it circles back around to being funny again. Naofumi with Raph-chan is a little like that. His love for the little furball was cute and funny at first, then it became a little odd and maybe a little cringey, and now it's gone to such an extreme that it's circled back to funny again, with the Shield hero now commanding a legion of Raph-chans. Also, Naofumi and Ruft bonding over Raph-chan is genuinely really sweet. Between that, how much he clings to Naofumi (or Raph-chan) when he's scared, and just the liking he's taken to the kid, I think Naofumi has definitely found his son figure. Honestly their relationship feels a little more parent and child than even Naofumi and child Raphtalia's was and it took me a bit before I figured out why that was, at least for me.

Naofumi was very parental to Raphtalia and does still somewhat think of her as his daughter. However, when they first met it was also a situation where Raphtalia had to grow up very quickly, and not just physically through leveling. She was bought as a slave and didn't want to go back to the trader. She wanted to fight back against the things that took her family and village from her. She wanted to be Naofumi's sword. She was the sole reason he could gain any significant experience and level up into the Shield Hero he needed to be. The romantic feelings she gained for him were almost certainly a factor but overall, for her sake and his, staying a child, staying as someone's daughter, was not an option. What Naofumi needed wasn't a daughter but a partner. Someone he could lean on and trust.

With Ruft, there is no need for him to grow up quite yet. Yes, Naofumi took him to the village so he could get some experience with the real world and he does plan on toughening him up, but Naofumi is not dependent on Ruft like he was Raphtalia. There's no pressure for Ruft to grow up because Naofumi and everyone else will be fine regardless, so he has more freedom to be a kid. And unlike Filo and the village kids, he doesn't have the added complication of also being Naofumi's slave. Naofumi can treat him and care for him like a kid.

Side note, but is it weird that, even though I know he's related to Raphtalia, before I finally was given an image of him I kept on imagining Ruft looking like Gohan from the very beginning of Dragon Ball Z? Chinese Emperor clothes and all. It feels a little unintentionally racist of me given that Q'ten Lo is meant to resemble isolationist period Japan.

“The Bow Hero mentioned that he has a skill which allows him to scout out the surrounding area from a higher vantage point,” Raphtalia recalled. Itsuki said that? I mean, he was the Bow Hero. It wouldn’t be strange for him to have a skill that allowed him to search for distant targets. That sounded like quite a convenient skill too.

I'm glad about this little detail. I was just saying in the last volume that it felt like the other three heroes didn't seem to have any abilities that weren't directly attack-based. And then later with the hero conference we get even more added to their arsenals beyond just "attack, big attack, and bigger attack" like they'd been showing up until now. Before it felt like the other three could be a bit interchangeable in battle with Naofumi, as it's three attackers and one defender, with range being the only difference. But now, between the four of them, it's a good mix of attack, defense, support, healing, and debuffs. The Four Holy Heroes actually work as a party together.

“R-Raphtalia. Brother. I just want to go and see Master Naofumi! Move aside,” Atla stated.

“No,” Raphtalia replied.

“Never,” replied her brother.

“Raph!” barked a horde of Raphs.

I can hear the freaking echo! I'm dying!

“To be more accurate, they are filolials who act like mountain bandits, attacking wagons carrying off goods and stuff like that,” Melty continued.

...

“Hold on a moment. What the hell is going on then? And—” I finished my thought in my head. If this was the issue that Fitoria wanted help with, then . . . “You’re telling me filolials fight over wagons?”

“Yes. That’s what I’ve been told,” Melty confirmed. Uwah! So she wanted me to resolve some kind of turf war? If these were wild filolials, they weren’t going to go down without a fight.

“The loser has to give their wagon to the winner,” Melty explained. “Also, if it’s the season of love, they can only find love by defeating their opponent.” What were they, hermit crabs?

This is going exactly where I think it's going, isn't it?

[Two chapters later]

“It’s been a while, father-in-law. It’s me, I say, Motoyasu the street racer!”

F******************************************K!

I get Motoyasu is under the effect of his curse series but...it's just so hard to like this guy. It was even before Witch betrayed him and his curse activated. Especially when he uses his Temptation ability to "show Filo his love", basically trying to force her into loving him. Thank goodness it didn't work and that Raph-chan can clear away the effects it did have. Naofumi could stand to be more considerate of Raphtalia when it comes to the Raphs but Motoyasu has been straight up harassing Filo. He tried to keep her trapped in her "angel" form when rescuing her from Naofumi's "brainwashing" and probably was going to keep her that way forever if Witch didn't have her "accidentally" killed along with Melty when removing the brainwashing. I'm pretty sure she was the main person he wanted to peep on in the baths at Cal Mira. He stole her favorite wagon and transformed it into...that. And then there's the shape of...

No...

No!

I'd heard a rumor but...

NO!

I thought it was a web novel thing!

WHY DOES MOTOYASU HAVE A DILDO SPEAR?!?!

Or...god, what if it's not a dildo?!

“I’m taking your daughter. Using my Lust Envy Spear IV,” Motoyasu exclaimed. God. This was all depressing me intently.

“Filo-tan! I will stop you and take your purity!” Motoyasu thrust his spear at Filo.

“Boo!” She wasn’t interested. Then I noticed what he was pointing at. Below the waist, shall we say.

....................Kill him. Kill him. F**king kill him. I don't care about the consequences to the world. Kill him. Kill him now. Have Aura and Mare come over from Overlord and Iris come over from Konosuba. They'll all team up with Filo so that the lolis he loves so much can snap his f**king neck.

I get he's under the effects of a curse (two curses even; lust and envy) but he's almost everything he and Witch accused Naofumi of being. He's brainwashing people and an attempted rapist. All he's missing is abusing his slaves and kidnapping Melty.

...F**k. Okay, back to reality.

So Quirks exist in Itsuki's universe? Last volume I made a comparison between Motoyasu #2 and Bakugo from My Hero Academia because they fit similar tropes for me, but in terms of actual backstory and character, Itsuki is definitely the better comparison. Thought he was special in elementary school because of his powers but got slapped with a bit of reality upon entering the special school for powers. For both of them, this fed into an inferiority complex. It does also add more to Itsuki's hero complex. Bakugo's Quirk and natural talents had him overpraised from youth, leading him to fear the failure of living up to expectations of him. For Itsuki, it goes a little the other way, where his expectations for himself were high, got shattered because the powers above his level were much greater and thus nothing was expected to become of him in comparison, and so he fell into console games where he could be important and the main character for once.

None of this forgives how he treated Rishia but I'd still rather have this understanding and explanation of his character than not. He and Trash have a slightly similar problem for me, and it's not the story's fault. Itsuki's curse has left him pretty fried and emotionless, though it's slowly coming back to him. He hasn't really had a chance to redeem himself. He's working to better himself, yes, but he's also in a state where he'll do everything he's told. He had a nice, split-second apology to Rishia he managed to get out but that's about it. Similarly with Trash, he and Itsuki have sympathetic backstories but he is so lost in his hatred the Shield Hero, Siltvelt, and a few other things that he has not taken responsibility or shown remorse for any of the things that had happened because of him, including his youngest daughter nearly being killed multiple times. Before he was half-crazy and now after meeting Alta and Fohl he just seems withered away and beaten. Trash and Itsuki's situations are sympathetic but they've yet to do anything that puts me on their side beyond basic human empathy and pity.

Compare that to Ren, whom I'm glad I quite like now. He never did anything as bad as Trash or Itsuki, nor does he have as tragic a backstory as either (that's been told to us yet anyway), but he still felt remorse for the bad things he did do and has actively worked to try and make up for them or make certain they don't happen again, because he knows he screwed up. I'm not just supposed to pity him. Like with Naofumi, I'm supposed to see him rise and he does, at several points in this volume being very helpful to very heroic. And I like how he and Naofumi contrast with each other without completely butting heads like stubborn bulls, like over the bandits for justice. They're both heroes but Ren is working hard to be a real hero to make up for the lack of one he was before, while Naofumi outright sees himself as a bad person, that all his good deeds are for selfish motivations and that he's not deserving of being hailed as a hero to begin with.

Well, I think that was all I was going to talk about. Yes sir.

...

.......

.................

.....................

..............................Alta on the cover. Alta on the inner art and quote page. Most of this book being about Fohl's fear over Alta's safety. There were so many red flags you'd think the Phoenix's explosion broke the fourth wall and set fire to the pages themselves.

Yeah, this death was better than Ost's. Ost's death still worked despite her short time with Naofumi's party because there was still emotion during that time and she still is often referenced, remembered, and mourned for even in volumes well after her death, so it feels less cheap and manipulative and more like it actually meant something. With Alta though, it's not just better just because we knew her longer (though that's certainly a factor) but because of the effect on the main characters, especially Naofumi. The raw pain, the denial, the begging, the self-blame, the sheer seething anger, the emptiness. Even the way it's written when she first jumps in the way and after the attack finally ends, it feels like the aftermath of a grenade. Everything is blurred and shaky, everything is silenced except for the ringing in his ears and its not entirely clear what's going on, only that something bad just happened. Naofumi runs through every emotion you'd want from someone like him and it has an even more personal meaning than that. Alta sacrificing herself for him gave Naofumi a bit of a hard slap in the face as to what everyone he cares about would feel if he sacrificed himself for them, which he's tried doing a few time already. It was a very good send-off for Alta.

This was also both the best and worst time for Naofumi to finally be told outright that Raphtalia loves him. Looking forward to either loving or being very frustrated with where this goes. Though regardless, that final art of them just hugging and crying it out is going to hold a special place in my heart.

Trash was apparently the Seven Star Staff Hero. I’d never seen him holding the staff and honestly wondered if the original king was dead and this was just a doppelganger.

Just where was he hiding the Seven Star Staff?

After the dildo spear, please don't ask me to imagine where Trash hides his staff.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/shieldbro/comments/fndipx/read_through_light_novel_vol_15_random_thoughts/

[all-of-the-above]

With studies comes stress

If you’re currently at school, sixth form, or like myself, university, you’ll understand the level of overwhelming stress I’m on about. Even those of you who work could relate to this post when you have deadlines and tasks to be done. When studying you may feel…

a)     Stressed

b)    Tired

c)     Fed-up

d)    Bored

e)    Upset

f)      Panicked

g)     Frustrated

h)    All of the above?

Yeah, well me too. We study during the years we are supposed to have the most fun, we are stressed, drained and overwhelmed with all the exams, reading, assignments and deadlines. Studying can be something which takes the joy out of our lives, so it’s something we need to control, to have boundaries with, in order to achieve that work-life balance.

Being consistent with studying is so important, it reduces stress at exam season, and makes for a better outcome in the end. Something I’ve found to help is creating plans and to-do lists. By doing this I don’t overwhelm myself by looking too far ahead, plus I know what I need to do and by when, allowing me to focus on the present task and to achieve a sense of satisfaction by crossing it off once it’s done. Something else is ensuring your not taking on too much at one given time, don’t create a plan with too much work, don’t forget to keep spare time, time to do the things you love, to relax and have a break. You may have a tonne of things you need to get done there’s no doubt, I completely understand, but don’t allow yourself to get to the point where you’ve overworked yourself so much that you lose all motivation to do anything at all. I’ve been there, done that. This only sets you back and causes more stress because now you don’t even have the effort to get the bare minimum done. This is why taking breaks is more than important, limit your study time and ensure you take your mind away from the books more than once. If you can, get some fresh air, even if its for 15 minutes, that’s better than nothing at all, it helps clear the mind and will allow you to focus better. Sitting in one place, within those four walls can feel so stressful, we need to escape, move to a different room on your breaks, meditate, exercise in some way to get your body moving, watch some tv and distract your mind. Allow yourself some down time, take care of your mind and body, allow yourself to refresh and recharge to be able to keep going and keep succeeding like you know you can.

Over time I’ve come to learn methods that work for me, it’s about trial and error, effort and persistence and once you get there, it will make everything much easier. It won’t happen overnight, but if you’re willing to do some research, try new things and make sure you are taking care of yourself, you will figure it out one way or another. Plans work to help calm my mind from overthinking, to-do lists stop my anxiety from making me panic about everything I need to get done, working alone helps me focus better and get my work done on time so I don’t stress. And that’s all okay. You don’t need to be doing what everyone else is doing. If you can’t sit with your friends 24/7 and study, that’s not a problem, you need to put your needs first and recognise what works for you so you can achieve what you need to, whether or not it’s what your friends do. You don’t have to follow the crowd and not prep for your assignments until two days before. That’s too much stress, unless that’s how you work, do what you need to do. Be prepared, know how much time certain tasks may take you and understand how it can affect you so then you can prepare in time and reduce your anxiety towards it. This is what I keep saying, understand your abilities, your needs, your strengths and your weaknesses. This allows you to plan better, to pick assignments that work best for you, and it makes you feel more in control, thus less overwhelmed.

Making lists might work well for you, or a timetable, using certain colours and styling techniques with your notes may help, flashcards for exams, or quizlets. Not everything works for everyone, and that’s alright, but keep going. Try what you can, do what you can until you realise what actually works best, what aligns in your mind and helps you succeed. I don’t want to list out ways to study, everyone is different, but if you are able to recognise and understand techniques that work or don’t work, that’s truly such improvement already.

I’m currently coming to the end of my first year in university, but it’s not been how anyone would expect your first year to go. I’ve studied from home, attended online classes and been on campus only a handful of times. Minimal socialising, no parties, no clubs, no library dates, no studying in the café, nothing. First year in a pandemic has led to a completely different experience than what I’ve ever hoped for, in all honesty worse than I expected and ideally not what I wanted, yet there’s been some upsides. Studying from home has meant I’ve been able to focus well and get into the swing of uni studying life, I’ve watched lectures at my own pace and felt I’ve had time to do what’s needed. This is a way of studying that works for me, and although next year will be different, I’ve learnt what’s good for me and it’s something I can keep up and continuously put into practise, even if it means not sitting on campus 24/7, that’s okay, I study in my own way and I won’t let the opinions of others influence and effect my grades. So, take some time now to reflect, look back on this time we’ve all spent apart, look at how studying has gone, the bad and good and asses what works and doesn’t work for you. Try not to confuse the lack of socialising for bad grades, it’s affected us all, but you need to focus on studying in particular. Is it a need to study with others, or to have a balance with seeing people and studying alone? Reflect to help your future self. A better understanding of ourselves will mean reducing our overwhelmed state of mind because we will know how to prevent it, to manage it. It’s okay if you’ve been struggling, so many of us have, it’s been a hard experience to go through yet look at where we are, how far we’ve come. Care for your mind and body in as many ways as you can, take a day off, you’re allowed to do that. Don’t test your limits to breaking point. Only you know your capabilities and taking time to look back on things, assessing things will help you see clearer what they truly are. Understanding your abilities and setting boundaries is a form of self-care and self-love, so do it, do it for your benefit, continue putting your needs first, make your mental health a priority, and nurture your mind.

Remember, feeling stressed is normal, feeling anxious and overwhelmed is natural, but also remember how important you are, and your health is. Prevent long-term damage by taking action on your present needs.

[lilywhittaker]

Righting The Wrongs | Self-Para

who: lily whittaker, elise whittaker, ian whittaker when: november 7th, 2020 where: whittaker estate, sunstone beach

I have to do this. Aside from telling him that she loved him, those were the last words she’d whispered to Bash that morning before leaving him in bed as she began getting ready to meet with her parents. Her family-affiliated bank accounts had not been frozen, which she took as a good sign - and all her mother’s doing. Elise Whittaker would only ever cut her daughter off if it was a last resort, no matter how much prodding she faced from her husband. “I have to do this,” Lily repeated to herself as she drove through the gates of her family estate, a place that had once been home feeling like a prison as the guards closed the gates behind her and told her where to park. Thanking the butler as he directed her to her father’s study, Lily didn’t even bother knocking - she simply opened the doors and strode in, seeing both of her parents sitting behind the desk. “Mother, Father. I trust that we have a lot to discuss,” she greeted curtly, heels clicking against the wooden flooring before she reached the desk, not sitting down as she didn’t want to feel complacent and small. Standing firm and tall, she felt as though she could hold her own.

You insolent little bitch. You cost this family our reputation as well as your own, and for what? Some petty criminal who gave you an ounce of attention, whispered empty compliments in your ear? Ian’s words stung, but Lily held her ground. “The ‘petty criminal’ has a name. You should get used to it, actually. You’ll probably be hearing it a lot now,” the woman challenged, crossing her arms across her chest. “I cost this family their reputation and set my own on fire. For what, you ask? Because you and I both know that Bash didn’t do anything, and telling the truth was the right thing. I didn’t do it out of hope that we’d reconcile, I did it because it was what was morally right. Is that a feeling you’re familiar with, Dad?” Poking the bear was dangerous, especially since she had witnessed firsthand what Ian Whittaker did to people who upset him. But she didn’t care; Bash may not have been with her, but she was angry for him. “At the end of the day, I can live with the decisions I made. I can sleep at night knowing that I put myself in an uncomfortable position, but I did what I thought was right. Can you both say the same?” Lily asked, her voice eerily calm as her eyes darted between her mother and father, almost daring them to disagree with her.

So what, Landry is your boyfriend now? He’ll leave you in two months once he gets bored of you trying and failing to make him into husband material. Trying to make him into something he’s not. And you’re biting the hand that fed you for thirty years, and the one that’d feed you when he inevitably breaks your heart. “You almost ruined his life,” Lily sneered, gripping the back of the chair in front of her as she glared at her father. “And for what? Because you didn’t think he was good enough for me? I was born into this world, and yes I worked my ass off in school and for event planning. But someone who didn’t have the privileges I have, that person would need to work twice as hard to achieve what I did. I’m grateful for the opportunities that I’ve been given, but let’s not pretend that I earned them all. Bash wasn’t born into wealth, with options to achieve his goals by whatever means possible. It’s not fair to say that he’s beneath me just because of this.” Neither of her parents had said it, but Lily knew them well enough to know that they saw him as nothing more than a liability at their daughter’s side, a man without a degree from a reputable university or a profession that they would love to brag about him being employed in. “But yes, he is my boyfriend now. He didn’t graduate from an Ivy League, doesn’t work in law or finance or the medical profession, doesn’t have much money to his name, has a criminal record. But you know what? I am aware of all of this, and I’m still making the choice to be with him. I choose him, and I’ll stand by it.”

“First, you release a public statement that clears him of any wrongdoing. Apologize to him in it, and personally when he’s ready - it’s safe to say he doesn’t want to see either of you right now, and I don’t blame him one bit.” Bash’s reputation wouldn’t be one hundred percent safe, but it was the best option for now. She knew that he could file a civil lawsuit, but she didn’t want to make those decisions for him. “And I know you set him up,” she accused, pointing at Ian before her attention shifted to Elise. “And you knew about it and didn’t do anything to stop it - which is just as bad, in my opinion. Or you tried to, but it was too late. Either way, Bash would’ve paid the price for an issue you had with me, and that’s not okay. The knowledge I have, I could ruin us all. We’d be where the Hawthornes were up until earlier this year,” she almost threatened, unsure if she even would’ve gone that far to get her revenge. “My accounts remain untouched. I’ll keep up the charade of ‘simply needing my space and moving into a home of my own’ for the public, but we both know the real reason I bought that house in Goldfinch earlier this month. If you keep up your end of the deal, I never mention this to anyone,” Lily promised, waiting to see if her family agreed. Had she gotten cut off entirely, she would’ve been able to live a comfortable middle class life on her event planning salary but she didn’t want to do that just yet. As much as she was working on unlearning her own internal biases when it came to socioeconomic factors, Lily was also scared to step outside of the comfort zone that she’d known for so long.

Your mother already said we’re not cutting you off, if it was up to me you’d have been on welfare already. You’re done acting like a petulant teenager whose cell phone got confiscated yet? The fact that her father was trivializing her anger pushed Lily even further; she wasn’t yelling just yet, but her voice had raised a few notches and her mother asking her to keep her voice down had the exact opposite effect on her. “Keep my voice down? I think we’re far past the point of decency here, a man almost went to prison because of your bias,” she shot back, letting her biting words hang in the air for a few moments. After years of maintaining a level of decorum and docility around her parents, Lily threw caution into the wind and was not at all concerned. “In fact, I decided to help you out with your road to redemption. The Innocence Project has received ten grand in your name to help fight injustices. They’ll do a lot with that, I’m sure, making sure that innocent people in prison get the help they need to clear their names.”

Once the three Whittakers had finished their heated discussion, Lily handed them her keys to the grounds. “I don’t need these anymore, you can keep them. Bash and I will be in touch about anything else,” she finally concluded, getting up from her seat and pulling her coat on. You’re making a huge mistake, Lilian. You’ll be back here before you know it, begging us to be there for you. You’re destroying the Whittaker legacy, sympathizing with a criminal and going against your own family. What about your own children? Silence hung in the air as she considered those words, giving her father a saccharine smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. 

“Oh, Daddy, I’m not destroying anything, I’m reinventing our legacy. Reinventing what the Whittaker name will be known for: kindness and compassion. And that’s the world I’m bringing my future children into. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to be on my way. We’ll talk soon.” Leaving both of her parents speechless as she exited through the French doors of her father’s study, Lily felt a surge of pride amidst some guilt. She had just taken a stance against them, one that she believed was right. But there was no doubt that the measures she’d resorted to could be considered blackmail. Something that she associated with her parents, and not with herself - not only demanding something in exchange for not releasing incriminating information, but feeling triumphant as she did it. Was this what good people did?

Was Lily Whittaker now the villain in the story?

[valkerymillenia]

Umbrella Academy

season 2, episode 8

Once again- live blogging my thoughts and reactions in one post to avoid spamming.

So this is how the FBI gets their hands on Vanya, huh? Seems most fan theories were wrong.

Oh, Sissy's last name is Cooper!

I did wonder about that -how did remember her name despite forgetting everything else? If she knew her name then she should have been able to remember other little fragments.

Of course the feds focus on the fact that her name is Russian. Cold war bullshit. I guess they think she's a spy or since Russian sleeper soldier or something.

"I'm not Russian" -you kinda are though 😅 Tatiana was Russian and gave birth to you in Moscow sooo...

DID VANYA JUST SPEAK RUSSIAN?!

Is that one of the 7 languages that Reggie all the siblings or....? Does it... Does it have something to do with her powers or her birth place?

"simple-minded boy"? FUCK YOU.😠

"communist threat" there it is 🙄

Oh no, she's losing her cool. Here come the powers... I keep wondering how she does that 'sucking the life' out of someone thing. 🤔

That's a lot of puke.

Poor Five, he's starting to crack under the stress.

Why is Ben gagging? He's dead, he shouldn't be able to feel or smell the puke.

Loving Robert's real curls starting to show.

"I regret nothing" -hmm.... Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of.

"there's a giant dead white boy on my couch" 😆

"Oh, I see. It's gonna be one of those kind of nights, huh? So are we burning or burying?" -this is why I love Klaus! He doesn't even flinch, he doesn't care what happened, he doesn't ask, he just immediately decides that he's going to help his sister get rid of a dead body like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Although, it would be interesting if Klaus actual saw the Swede ghosts too. I just want Klaus to be seeing ghosts everywhere again, ok? I want that struggle from season 1 to be brought back and not swept under the rug for plot convenience. As a writer, if you make something an important character trait, you stick with it and they haven't done that with Klaus, they are half-assing his struggle with his powers.

It's the Swede really going to...? Oh good, saved by the cat.

Oh! So that's what "lavender" means! I was right, it was the perfume, it was probably obvious but I'm a little dumb.

Ah! Lila is trying to hire Diego for the Commission???

Diego is so confused.

"colorful history" sounds so wrong and sexual 😣

Diego is so full of bullshit. His loyalties absolutely lie with his family, he's just too defensive to admit it.

Reginald FRAMED Pogo's family drawing? So he's a better dad to the chimp than his own kids, huh?

THE TELEVATOR!!!!!!! PLANS FOR THE TELEVATOR!!!! I love comic references, please tell me we'll see a real televator in the show!

So Reggie really is planning something about JFK...

"are you involved in something nefarious?" "Quite often. Did you have something more specific in mind?" -at least he owns it 😆

"shaggy man" -ah! Poor Diego!

Reggie really loves this Grace, huh? But she has a point.

Five is losing it a bit, huh?

The baby powder 🤣

"I have to find myself" -RIGHT! I was wondering when this would come up! Old!Five was there for the JFK thing so Five just has to find his old self and his briefcase in order to correct all this mess. More comic references!

"arguably the most dangerous assassin in the time-space continuum" -DAMN RIGHT 💯

"paradox psychosis" 🤣I know it's supposed to be super serious but the symptoms are so funny...

"a spotter? What is that? Like a wingman?" 😆 This parallels that "Body man? What's that? Like a masseuse?" line in s02e02 where Five is the confused one.

Five, do you really think your brother can stop you if you spiral? Because I don't.

Luther doesn't have a great attention span, does he?

Harlan's drawing is interesting... I get a feeling it's important.

Shit, they are torturing Vanya!! This is so bad!

LSD? LSD?????? No, that's a terrible idea with her powers!!!

Eeeewwwww the eyeballs! 👁️

That's a hell of a bad trip... The way the music makes with the visuals reminds me of my synesthesia though.

Oh! So this is where the scene of all the adult siblings in the Academy uniforms is from!!! (I remember someone saying it was Diego dreaming of having a drugged hallucination in the asylum, they were pretty close! It's Vanya drugged by the FBI instead!)

"I get you" -that is not the face of a person that gets this at all, Luther!

"Don't freak out." -like that ever worked 😆

Lila trying to have her cake and eat it too with her mom and Diego.

That informational video 🤣🤣🤣

Free coffee! Weekly donuts* (*fees apply)! Wow, so tempting 😒

"whatever your skill, education, or comfort level with moral ambiguity (...)" 😆

Are the Fives just having a staring contest? 🤣🤣

Ah! How can Five be bitchy and aggressive to HIMSELF 😆

"all those years on the apocalypse, we never stopped working about our family." -why does Luther look so damn surprised to hear this?? Why the hell does he think Five is doing so this for?!

Wow, Five is really bitter about his body, isn't he? He's making old!Five so nervous 😅

Oops, there's stage 4 for old!Five!

And there's stage 3 as well and stages 5 and 6 for little!Five.

I get a feeling Five doesn't really have the accurate calculations, he's just lying and using the originals.

"I don't trust him!" -he's... He's you...14 days ago! How do you not trust yourself?

"but he's you" "exactly" 🤣🤣🤣

I'm so afraid how what Diego is going to do. I get a feeling hell fuck up trying to be a misguided hero again...

"I'm Diego. I have a knife." 😆

"it's very shiny" 🤣

So Diego is a legend, huh? 😏

"there's been a coup d'etat" "what's that? Cadillac?" -don't play dumb, Diego, I don't believe for a single second that you don't know what a coup is.

So the new apocalypse WAS Vanya's fault but by proxy (actually more the FBI's fault), she was just a small domino. So literally the only one that didn't actively do anything to impact the timeline ends up being the one doing the most damage (again)? PLOT TWIST!

Oh no, DON'T GET ANY IDEAS ABOUT YOUR SISTER, DIEGO! YOU SAW HOW BADLY THAT ENDED LAST TIME!

No, I refuse to believe "she will always be the bomb" 😠😠😠😠

LOL, hi, Dot!

NO! LUTHER, YOU MORON! DON'T GIVE HIM ALL THAT INFO! YOU'LL CHANGE EVERYTHING AND CEASE TO EXIST!!!

These dumb siblings exhaust me

"little jerk-off" -why are you insulting yourself, you weirdo? 😆

Old!Five with all the PP symptoms and yet he says he never felt better in his life 🤣

"you're getting paranoid" -you both are, and sweaty, itchy and gassy. All that's missing is the homicidal rage at this point 😅

Vanya's hallucination shows us a twisted paranoid view she has of her siblings and it's very interesting:

-Ben is protective, defends her, he can do no harm, probably because he died young so nostalgia blurs her memory of him

-Allison defends her but is also arrogant and condescending, speaking as if she's implying that Vanya is weak, probably because Vanya feels that Allison is perfect and has an inferiority complex

-Luther is just as arrogant and looks down her, calling her lazy, but does so without malice (more mockery than anger)

-Klaus is accusing and suspicious but still on the fence and excitable, probably reflecting Vanya's own doubts and how she herself sees Klaus

-Five just stares, judging and silent but unable to look away, probably because she trusts him but she also doesn't know him, there's the same nostalgia effect as Ben but because Five came back (to stop her) the inferiority and fear of judgement is still there

-Diego is completely different, awkward and detached, this one is the most interesting because he's one of the people that was most vocal and mean against her in season 1 but apparently she sees a kindred spirit in him to an extent, either that or she fears she means nothing to him

Maybe I'm overanalyzing again...

I totally predicted the dishes would be brains but it's still gross.

Ew, the chewing... 😫 It's giving me the creeps.

Why is she seeing Harlan's drawing? She was gone already when he made that particular drawing (I knew it would be important), is she connected to him now??

And how does she remember her own birth??

Holy shit, Harlan is feeling Vanya's pain!!!😲😲😲

"why are people so much heavier when they're dead?" "You got a lot of practice at this?" 😅

Ben and Klaus conversation actually makes me feel a bit better about the possession but it makes no sense at all 🤣

Poor Ray keeps meeting in-laws in the weirdest situations 🤣🤣🤣🤣 his face! 🤝

Ray is having a nervous breakdown 😣 poor guy...

The moment Lila notices Diego is missing, the intercom chimes "Loyalty isn't a choice, it's a lifestyle" and if that isn't foreshadowing for Lila choosing sides then I don't know what is.

This is a really painful way for Vanya to recover her memories but it's so well done!

Holy shit... 😳

Klaus asking the real question here. She's being tortured, Klaus, go help!!!

HOLY SHIT! HARLAN HAS VANYA'S POWERS NOW?!

No, no, no,no, no, no nononononono! This is so bad! A child with a disorder that makes emotions hard to regulate suddenly having an apocalyptic level of power that connects directly to emotion is just a recipe for disaster!

[theculturedmarxist]

My dad was born in 1917. Somehow, he survived the Spanish Flu pandemic of 1918-1919, but an outbreak of whooping cough in 1923 claimed his baby sister, Clementina. One of my dad’s first memories was seeing his sister’s tiny white casket. Another sister was permanently marked by scarlet fever. In 1923, my dad was hit by a car and spent two weeks in a hospital with a fractured skull as well as a lacerated thumb. His immigrant parents had no medical insurance, but the driver of the car gave his father $50 toward the medical bills. The only lasting effect was the scar my father carried for the rest of his life on his right thumb.

The year 1929 brought the Great Depression and lean times. My father’s father had left the family, so my dad, then 12, had to pitch in. He got a newspaper route, which he kept for four years, quitting high school after tenth grade so he could earn money for the family. In 1935, like millions of other young men of that era, he joined the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC), a creation of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s New Deal that offered work on environmental projects of many kinds. He battled forest fires in Oregon for two years before returning to his family and factory work. In 1942, he was drafted into the Army, going back to a factory job when World War II ended. Times grew a little less lean in 1951 when he became a firefighter, after which he felt he could afford to buy a house and start a family.

I’m offering all this personal history as the context for a prediction of my dad’s that, for obvious reasons, came to my mind again recently. When I was a teenager, he liked to tell me: “I had it tough in the beginning and easy in the end. You, Willy, have had it easy in the beginning, but will likely have it tough in the end.” His prophecy stayed with me, perhaps because even then, somewhere deep down, I already suspected that my dad was right.

The COVID-19 pandemic is now grabbing the headlines, all of them, and a global recession, if not a depression, seems like a near-certainty. The stock market has been tanking and people’s lives are being disrupted in fundamental and scary ways. My dad knew the experience of losing a loved one to disease, of working hard to make ends meet during times of great scarcity, of sacrificing for the good of one’s family. Compared to him, it’s true that, so far, I’ve had an easier life as an officer in the Air Force and then a college teacher and historian. But at age 57, am I finally ready for the hard times to come? Are any of us?

And keep in mind that this is just the beginning. Climate change (recall Australia’s recent and massive wildfires) promises yet more upheavals, more chaos, more diseases. America’s wanton militarism and lying politicians promise more wars. What’s to be done to avert or at least attenuate the tough times to come, assuming my dad’s prediction is indeed now coming true? What can we do?

It’s Time to Reimagine America

Here’s the one thing about major disruptions to normalcy: they can create opportunities for dramatic change. (Disaster capitalists know this, too, unfortunately.) President Franklin Roosevelt recognized this in the 1930s and orchestrated his New Deal to revive the economy and put Americans like my dad back to work.

In 2001, the administration of President George W. Bush and Vice President Dick Cheney capitalized on the shock-and-awe disruption of the 9/11 attacks to inflict on the world their vision of a Pax Americana, effectively a militarized imperium justified (falsely) as enabling greater freedom for all. The inherent contradiction in such a dreamscape was so absurd as to make future calamity inevitable. Recall what an aide to Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld scribbled down, only hours after the attack on the Pentagon and the collapse of the Twin Towers, as his boss’s instructions (especially when it came to looking for evidence of Iraqi involvement): “Go massive — sweep it all up, things related and not.” And indeed they would do just that, with an emphasis on the “not,” including, of course, the calamitous invasion of Iraq in 2003.

To progressive-minded people thinking about this moment of crisis, what kind of opportunities might open to us when (or rather if) Donald Trump is gone from the White House? Perhaps this coronaviral moment is the perfect time to consider what it would mean for us to go truly big, but without the usual hubris or those disastrous invasions of foreign countries. To respond to COVID-19, climate change, and the staggering wealth inequities in this country that, when combined, will cause unbelievable levels of needless suffering, what’s needed is a drastic reordering of our national priorities.

Remember, the Fed’s first move was to inject $1.5 trillion into the stock market. (That would have been enough to forgive all current student debt.) The Trump administration has also promised to help airlines, hotels, and above all oil companies and the fracking industry, a perfect storm when it comes to trying to sustain and enrich those upholding a kleptocratic and amoral status quo.

This should be a time for a genuinely new approach, one fit for a world of rising disruption and disaster, one that would define a new, more democratic, less bellicose America. To that end, here are seven suggestions, focusing — since I’m a retired military officer — mainly on the U.S. military, a subject that continues to preoccupy me, especially since, at present, that military and the rest of the national security state swallow up roughly 60% of federal discretionary spending:

1. If ever there was a time to reduce our massive and wasteful military spending, this is it. There was never, for example, any sense in investing up to $1.7 trillion over the next 30 years to “modernize” America’s nuclear arsenal. (Why are new weapons needed to exterminate humanity when the “old” ones still work just fine?) Hundreds of stealth fighters and bombers — it’s estimated that Lockheed Martin’s disappointing F-35 jet fighter alone will cost $1.5 trillion over its life span — do nothing to secure us from pandemics, the devastating effects of climate change, or other all-too-pressing threats. Such weaponry only emboldens a militaristic and chauvinistic foreign policy that will facilitate yet more wars and blowback problems of every sort. And speaking of wars, isn’t it finally time to end U.S. involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan? More than $6 trillion has already been wasted on those wars and, in this time of global peril, even more is being wasted on this country’s forever conflicts across the Greater Middle East and Africa. (Roughly $4 billion a month continues to be spent on Afghanistan alone, despite all the talk about “peace” there.)

2. Along with ending profligate weapons programs and quagmire wars, isn’t it time for the U.S. to begin dramatically reducing its military “footprint” on this planet? Roughly 800 U.S. military bases circle the globe in a historically unprecedented fashion at a yearly cost somewhere north of $100 billion. Cutting such numbers in half over the next decade would be a more than achievable goal. Permanently cutting provocative “war games” in South Korea, Europe, and elsewhere would be no less sensible. Are North Korea and Russia truly deterred by such dramatic displays of destructive military might?

3. Come to think of it, why does the U.S. need the immediate military capacity to fight two major foreign wars simultaneously, as the Pentagon continues to insist we do and plan for, in the name of “defending” our country? Here’s a radical proposal: if you add 70,000 Special Operations forces to 186,000 Marine Corps personnel, the U.S. already possesses a potent quick-strike force of roughly 250,000 troops. Now, add in the Army’s 82nd and 101st Airborne divisions and the 10th Mountain Division. What you have is more than enough military power to provide for America’s actual national security. All other Army divisions could be reduced to cadres, expandable only if our borders are directly threatened by war. Similarly, restructure the Air Force and Navy to de-emphasize the present “global strike” vision of those services, while getting rid of Donald Trump’s newest service, the Space Force, and the absurdist idea of taking war into low earth orbit. Doesn’t America already have enough war here on this small planet of ours?

4. Bring back the draft, just not for military purposes. Make it part of a national service program for improving America. It’s time for a new Civilian Conservation Corps focused on fostering a Green New Deal. It’s time for a new Works Progress Administration to rebuild America’s infrastructure and reinvigorate our culture, as that organization did in the Great Depression years. It’s time to engage young people in service to this country. Tackling COVID-19 or future pandemics would be far easier if there were quickly trained medical aides who could help free doctors and nurses to focus on the more difficult cases. Tackling climate change will likely require more young men and women fighting forest fires on the west coast, as my dad did while in the CCC — and in a climate-changing world there will be no shortage of other necessary projects to save our planet. Isn’t it time America’s youth answered a call to service? Better yet, isn’t it time we offered them the opportunity to truly put America, rather than themselves, first?

5. And speaking of “America First,” that eternal Trumpian catch-phrase, isn’t it time for all Americans to recognize that global pandemics and climate change make a mockery of walls and go-it-alone nationalism, not to speak of politics that divide, distract, and keep so many down? President Dwight D. Eisenhower once said that only Americans can truly hurt America, but there’s a corollary to that: only Americans can truly save America — by uniting, focusing on our common problems, and uplifting one another. To do so, it’s vitally necessary to put an end to fear-mongering (and warmongering). As President Roosevelt famously said in his first inaugural address in the depths of the Great Depression, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Fear inhibits our ability to think clearly, to cooperate fully, to change things radically as a community.

6. To cite Yoda, the Jedi master, we must unlearn what we have learned. For example, America’s real heroes shouldn’t be “warriors” who kill or sports stars who throw footballs and dunk basketballs. We’re witnessing our true heroes in action right now: our doctors, nurses, and other medical personnel, together with our first responders, and those workers who stay in grocery stores, pharmacies, and the like and continue to serve us all despite the danger of contracting the coronavirus from customers. They are all selflessly resisting a threat too many of us either didn’t foresee or refused to treat seriously, most notably, of course, President Donald Trump: a pandemic that transcends borders and boundaries. But can Americans transcend the increasingly harsh and divisive borders and boundaries of our own minds? Can we come to work selflessly to save and improve the lives of others? Can we become, in a sense, lovers of humanity?

7. Finally, we must extend our love to encompass nature, our planet. For if we keep treating our lands, our waters, and our skies like a set of trash cans and garbage bins, our children and their children will inherit far harder times than the present moment, hard as it may be.

What these seven suggestions really amount to is rejecting a militarized mindset of aggression and a corporate mindset of exploitation for one that sees humanity and this planet more holistically. Isn’t it time to regain that vision of the earth we shared collectively during the Apollo moon missions: a fragile blue sanctuary floating in the velvety darkness of space, an irreplaceable home to be cared for and respected since there’s no other place for us to go? Otherwise, I fear that my father’s prediction will come true not just for me, but for generations to come and in ways that even he couldn’t have imagined.

[brajeshupadhyay]

Emma Allenby was studying for A-levels when she developed a headache that just wouldn’t go away Emma Allenby was studying for A-levels when she developed a headache that just wouldn’t go away. Initially, she blamed the 30-second bursts of intense pain flashing through the top of her head — something she had never experienced before — on revision-related stress. But then one morning, three weeks after the first bout of pain, it became a debilitating, chronic headache. ‘The pain was so bad it woke me up,’ recalls Emma, now 24, from Loughborough, Leics, who works in sales and marketing. ‘It had moved from 30-second flashes of intense pain to constant pain — and it hasn’t gone away since.’ Six years on, Emma is still suffering, and despite numerous treatments, tests and investigations, no one can yet explain what is causing her headache. ‘I was 18 when it began and everything came to a halt,’ she says. ‘Constant debilitating pain interfered with every aspect of my life. ‘I didn’t take my A-levels, I stopped going out and I was miserable. I took it out on my parents, though I know they understood why. ‘I tried the usual treatments, including paracetamol and ibuprofen. And when they didn’t work I was prescribed stronger painkillers, such as co-codamol, but nothing touched the pain. ‘After 72 hours without sleep from the pain, I was catatonic. Mum took me back to the GP and I passed out after a blood test, going face down on the floor and smashing a tooth. I came round to a massive surge of pain in my head. ‘My tooth got fixed, but the headache continued as it is now; constant, seven-out-of-ten pain which doesn’t change with environment or food.’ Emma’s chronic or long-term headache is not too unusual, according to Dr Joe Guadagno, a consultant neurologist at Newcastle upon Tyne NHS Foundation Trust. ‘Permanent headaches are surprisingly common, both recurring and constant, and are often without diagnosis, which makes treating them challenging — especially since the constant use of painkillers can have side-effects such as overuse actually perpetuating the pain.’ The National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) said earlier this month that paracetamol and ibuprofen should not be prescribed for chronic pain because they can potentially ‘cause more harm than good’. Emma continued trying every possible treatment, including acupuncture, to try to relieve the pain, to no avail [File photo] Instead, it recommends exercise, therapy, acupuncture and antidepressants for the estimated half of the population who are affected by chronic pain — that is, pain that lasts for three to six months or more. After painkillers failed to alleviate Emma’s headache, she was sent for MRI and brain scans to see if there was a more sinister cause. Dr Guadagno recommends anyone who has a progressive or persistent headache to seek medical attention to rule out serious underlying health problems. ‘New headaches in anyone over 50, and sudden-onset headaches where the pain reaches maximum intensity within five minutes and is associated with symptoms such as sudden or progressively weak arms and legs, fever or confusion, should be checked out,’ he says. ‘There is no specific “brain tumour” headache, but at any age, any progressive or persistent headache, or headache that has changed dramatically over time, usually warrants a brain scan.’ When Emma’s scans came back clear, there was a sigh of relief — but doctors then suggested her headaches might be psychological.  ‘This left me questioning everything and whether my body was playing tricks on me,’ says Emma. ‘One of my biggest fears was that I wouldn’t be believed.’ Her parents, both pharmaceutical research scientists, were determined to get to the bottom of the problem and had Emma referred to a private neurologist in Birmingham. ‘We tried less widely known medicines and methods in an attempt to provide relief quickly so I could sit my A-levels, go to university and get back to a normal life,’ recalls Emma. ‘I was prescribed steroids to reduce inflammation, sodium valproate — which is usually used to treat epilepsy and bipolar disorder, but can occasionally be used to prevent migraine headaches — as well as sleeping tablets, as exhaustion meant I didn’t know who or where I was. ‘But finally the consultant admitted defeat, with no idea what was causing my headaches. I was just left to live with the problem.’ By 2015, a year after the headache started, nothing had changed. A blood test with an endocrinologist — a hormone specialist — revealed that Emma’s levels of the stress hormone cortisol, which can be a marker for pain, were ‘through the roof’, proving to doctors that her intense pain was real. Emma continued trying every possible treatment, including acupuncture, to try to relieve the pain, to no avail.  ‘It left me feeling hopeless,’ she says. Unable to sit her A-levels or continue with normal life, she could only watch as friends left home, headed for university and started new jobs — her younger brother Ben, now 22, among them. ‘There was an underlying jealousy that I don’t like to admit,’ she says. ‘Being an older sibling, I always thought I would experience those things first, but instead I spent most of my days at home on the sofa, unable to move. ‘The lack of sleep was almost harder to conquer than the headaches. Before, I’d been a social butterfly, but now I felt like a burden, going out for only an hour before I was exhausted. ‘Concentrating on anything rather than pain was difficult, and I often switched off. Even having conversations or the attention to watch a TV show was difficult, and I lost some friends. ‘I’d hear myself sounding fed up and miserable and think: “What happened to the bubbly, vibrant girl I used to be?” ’ A breakthrough came four years ago when Emma was referred for cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT), a talking therapy to help manage problems by changing the way you think and behave, which is recommended by NICE for chronic pain. While she wasn’t able to offer Emma a ‘cure’, Dr Beverley David, a clinical psychologist, helped her to find coping strategies and deal with the depression that was exacerbating the pain. ‘Beverley helped me realise I could find a way through this,’ says Emma. ‘I was sad and angry, grieving for a life I’d lost but also so fed up with myself.’ Veg patch medicine: The health wonders that lie in your larder This week: Onions for hay fever and allergies Onions are rich in quercetin, a plant chemical that has been shown in laboratory and animal studies to dampen the production of histamine Onions are rich in quercetin, a plant chemical that has been shown in laboratory and animal studies to dampen the production of histamine — the chemical that produces allergy symptoms such as itchy eyes and a runny nose.  A couple of small human studies, including one in the journal Allergology International in 2009, showed that when people with hay fever were given quercetin in supplement form (100-300mg a day) they had reduced eye and nasal symptoms. A medium onion contains 22-52mg of quercetin. While more research is required, eating more onions can’t harm you if you have seasonal allergies.  Sautéeing and baking don’t reduce quercetin, but boiling leaches it into the surrounding water.  Possibly the biggest step was accepting that her headache might never go away and learning to live well with it. ‘Beverley taught me to change the way I think and behave, and tricks to reset my body clock which helped me sleep better,’ says Emma. ‘Sleep deprivation spoils everything. I hated what I’d become and felt I was letting people down. She showed me that I could let this illness strengthen my character.’ After a year under Dr David’s care, Emma decided she wanted to train to be a counsellor (while she continues to work in sales and marketing). ‘I wanted to help make a difference to other people, listening and believing anyone who has been judged over the years for battling with something that no one can see or understand,’ says Emma. Dr David, who now works in Ontario, Canada, says: ‘Working with unexplained physical symptoms can bring extra challenges. Our understanding around mental health is increasing, helping to better support holistic health. Cognitive behavioural therapy helps to reveal links between symptoms, worries and feelings and how to manage them.’ Despite six years of constant pain, Emma’s life is now moving on positively — she is thoroughly enjoying life with her boyfriend, Elliot, 24, a project manager for a bespoke kitchen company whom she met through a dating app, and with her family and friends. ‘If I woke up tomorrow and the headache was gone, I don’t know how long it would take me to believe it,’ she says.  ‘But I can’t put my life on hold waiting for that to happen. All the good things in my life now are more important to me than a sore head, even one that has lasted for six years. ‘I couldn’t be happier with how far I’ve come, but it certainly hasn’t been easy. Living with chronic pain isn’t the end — it’s what you make of it.’ The post Thought your headache was unbearable? Emma’s had one for six years appeared first on Shri Times News. from WordPress https://ift.tt/2Ycoqex

http://sansaartimes.blogspot.com/2020/08/thought-your-headache-was-unbearable.html

[violetsmoak]

Pieces of April [16/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Author’s Note: Here’s your daily dose of JayTim and baby for your quarantine reading pleasure! Stay safe, wash your hands and support your local healthcare, waste management and retail workers!

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

The rest of the afternoon is spent on the phone, fielding calls from various departments and sorting out production complications. Interspersed are texts and Facebook messages from friends and family—Dick, wondering if dinner is still happening on Friday, Bruce wanting updates on the mob case, the Titans wanting to know if he’s coming to San Francisco that weekend—

Tim is evasive with all except the last one, informing Bart that there’s some family drama going on that will keep him home for a while. Once the speedster knows, everyone else will know, so it’s about as effective as sending a group text.

He resists the urge to phone Jason and see how he’s doing; he’s rather sure he won’t pick up.

(“I ain’t a damn kid that needs checkin’ up on, Drake.”)

Not that Tim is checking up on him. He just knows that whenever someone in the family is going through a personal crisis, that’s usually the time when Gotham’s rogues decide to act out.

So really, ensuring Jason’s stress levels stay manageable is a public service.

“Because that sounds like logic,” he chides.

Damian shows up around 3 o’clock and spends the next two hours alternatively disparaging everything about Tim from his too-long hair to how he organizes his filing system, to discussing WE resource allocation for an animal shelter he wants to open. The conversational whiplash is enough to make Tim’s head spin, and he makes a note in his phone to talk to Bruce about whatever it is that’s going on between them that’s so bad Damian prefers Tim’s company to his father’s.

Either Bruce put his foot down about another of Damian’s strays, or he still won’t agree that Robin should have a private prison to lock up rogues. 

Whatever the reason, Tim is very much out of his depth at the youngest Bat’s newest tactics for taking his frustrations out on Tim.

Though I guess workplace inconveniences are a huge step up from swords to the gut. Could always be worse, I guess.

It turns out he’s not the only one learning new and interesting coping strategies. Upon arriving home at six, he finds Jason tweaking the tech in his gear on the kitchen table, baby carrier three feet away.

His entire body is tense, like a spring ready to snap.

“Was she up all day or something?” Tim asks on the way in, putting his bag on the floor and loosening his tie.

Jason shoots him a baleful look. “She’s been crying all day. And she’s still barely eating. I think she’s starting to look a little yellow—Tim, why is she yellow?”

And Jason sounds—dare he say it—almost frazzled.

Right. Time for more damage control.

“I’ve got her,” Tim says, easing into Jason’s personal space and taking the baby. “You go to sleep. Or shower. Or watch TV or something. You’re starting to go batty.”

That earns a disgusted look, and even Tim winces because that was just bad.

“Did you seriously just say that?” Jason asks.

“No, you’re sleep-deprived and hallucinated it,” he replies.

“I’ll allow it,” Jason says, yawning. “But only because it could be true.”

Jason shuffles off upstairs and Tim heaves himself onto the couch, pulling out his phone to check his usual online haunts for potential cases or clues for his current case. Social media and forums are pretty good sources once you learn how to weed out the sensationalist crap.

After thirty minutes of nothing, he gives it up and wanders over to the dwindling pile of baby items. Jason hasn’t returned yet, so he’s either passed out from exhaustion in the shower or actually made it to bed. Since Tim can’t hear the water running, he supposes it’s the latter.

It won’t kill me to go without the pre-patrol nap today, I guess.

Studying the pile, he notes that the boxes with the crib, changing table and whatever else needed assembly, have all gone missing. Presumably, Jason set those up this morning in a fit of boredom or paranoia.

The only things that haven’t been touched are the blankets, soft toys and garments, other than whatever Isa’s been changed into already.

There are only about twenty different pieces of clothing, and according to his not-so-new best friend the Internet, that’s not going to be nearly enough given infant propensity to upchuck. Especially since it’s not all the same size. Tam had to guess how big Isa was, so at least half the onesies here won’t fit her for another month or two, which isn’t supremely helpful for right now.

Back to fiddling with his phone, Tim goes online to order some more supplies and discovers, to his delight, that there’s an entire line of pop-culture related babywear. Star Wars, Star Trek, Doctor Who, Superhero logos…

He grins as he orders one of everything for next-day delivery, wondering whether Jason’s more likely to complain or find it funny.

Under normal circumstances, he’d probably find it funny. For someone else’s kid.

There’s still no sign of Jason after sunset, so Tim feeds and burps the baby, then sets up his laptop and tablet in the kitchen to check some of his surveillance feeds for the mob case. However, Isa protests every time he tries to put her down.

“What’s wrong with you now?” he asks. “You’re warm, you’re fed—” He takes a pause to check and change her diaper, during which time she continues to mewl at him, “—and you’re dry. Which means now’s the time you got to sleep, okay? New babies are supposed to do three things: eat, poop and sleep. So get on that.”

Once again he attempts to wrap her up and place her in her carrier, but the whimpering becomes flat-out crying, her tiny face becoming purple with rage and her eyes pinching shut.

“Okay, okay—putting you down is a no,” he sighs, tucking her back in his arms to rock her gently. He watches his computer monitor balefully, knowing if he’s holding the baby, there’s not going to be any hacking of Gotham’s CCTV tonight.

Could text Babs and ask her to do it. Except then she’ll want to know why.

Which is also a no.

One-handed, he searches out his phone again, looking up possible reasons for Isa’s current temper and potential solutions online. One thing jumps out at him and he brightens. A quick trip to the Nest and back, and he has what he was looking for.

Which is how Jason finds him when he finally comes back downstairs around eight o’clock, showered, rested and altogether more human-looking than what Tim came home to. He pauses at the foot of the stairs, squinting at Tim. “Is that your cape?”

“My cape is made out of state-of-the-art piezoelectric fabric substrates that can become a weapon with the right electrical frequency,” Tim retorts, trying not to feel entirely self-conscious from his seat at the kitchen table, wrapped in a makeshift mei-tai with Jason’s daughter drooling into his chest. “Also, that thing’s filthy.”

“And this is…?”

“My old cape,” Tim replies, going back to his computer. “Sometimes newborns just need to hear a heartbeat to calm them down. The best way is skin to skin, but I’m kind of in the middle of something, so this is the next best thing.”

Jason tilts his head to one side in consideration. “That’s a good idea.”

“Yeah, I looked it up online.”

“Of course you did,” Jason groans, rubbing his temple. “Because that’s what normal people do. I didn’t even think of it, I was too busy trying to get her to stop crying.” He huffs, almost rueful. “Why the hell am I surprised that you’re good at this? You’re good at friggen everything.”

Huh. A compliment. Those are almost as rare coming from Jason as they are from Damian. He must really be out of his comfort zone.

“Maybe it’s just because I have a certain measure of distance from it all,” Tim suggests, standing up to leave his temporary workstation. “If I suddenly found out I had a kid, I don’t know how I’d react.”

“Bull. You’re just like B. You’d just stick it in the back of your mind and forget about how to feel about it until you’re ready to deal.”

Tim feels a sudden flare of anger. “Is that actually how you think I am?”

“You going to tell me you’re not?” Jason challenges.

Tim opens his mouth to do exactly that, only to wrinkle his nose at the sudden stench arising from the lump of baby tucked against his chest.

“Ugh. Someone needs a change.”

Again. Guess I wasn’t so far off about the ‘eat, poop and sleep’ thing.

Jason snorts. “As far as conversation enders, that’s a pretty good one.”

Tim carefully unwinds the fabric from around his body and deposits the slowly waking baby into her father’s arms. “Tag.”

“You suck.”

“Serves you right for being a dick.”

He feels almost no guilt leaving Jason to deal with the soiled diaper and cranky baby this time, still smarting a bit about the resentful accusation that was lobbed at him.

Just because I can compartmentalize doesn’t mean I forget about things. Or that I don’t feel them.

He’s just not like Jason, or Dick, or Damian, who get angry and lash out as loudly and as viciously as they can. And he’s not like Bruce, either, since Bruce really can flip a switch and put something difficult out of his mind if it interferes with the all-important Mission.

Tim’s tried doing that, and as successful as he was in his quest to locate Batman when he was lost in the time stream, that period of Tim’s life was the most desperate and hopeless he’s ever felt. It was painful in a way that was different from losing his father, or Connor, or Bart—mostly because he was forced to bottle everything up to get the job done.

It was months after Bruce returned before Tim started processing things normally again.

Not that I should expect Jason to know that, he muses as he grapples through the rooftops of Gotham. He might know about me from my files and when we occasionally work together, but he’s never stuck around long enough to get to know anyone who came after him.

The night is at its darkest, cut through only by the Bat-signal in the distance. He won’t be running into Bruce tonight then unless the GCPD is bringing him in on the Gazzo case. It’s unlikely since there hasn’t been any retaliation yet. GCPD protocol dictates they’ll pass it off to Homicide until orders from on high turn it over to Major Crimes.

Red Robin ends up stopping two muggings and a drug deal before making his way to Gazzo territory to take some surveillance photos of his own. Security images are helpful in general, but he has camera tech that will let him focus on details the CCTV won’t pick up. 

It’s another relatively early night for him, returning home just after midnight to upload his findings to the servers and shower off the grit and grime of the city.

The apartment is silent, and he expects Jason and Isa to be upstairs in the newly built nursery, but upon closing the secret door again, he notices the faint sound of breathing. Creeping over to the sitting room, he finds Jason passed out on the couch beside Isa’s carrier. The television is on but not showing any channel, instead casting a solid blue light across the room.

Tim can’t help noticing how Jason’s habitual frown has eased in slumber. There’s no trace of a sneer or growl on his lips right now, his mouth parted only to breathe.

He has never seen the older man like this.

There are pictures of him at the manor, of course, most of them hidden away in dusty boxes. It’s only recently they’ve started cropping up at the manor again, though Tim isn’t sure whether it’s Dick or Alfred that’s been putting them there.

Hell, maybe it is Bruce. It’s the exact kind of gesture he’d make to try to tell Jason he wants him around more, without actually having to tell him directly.

Whoever’s responsible for them, Tim’s memorized all of those photos. The boy in those is always grinning or making silly faces or not paying attention to the photographer because he’s busy doing something he shouldn’t be.

If there’s a picture of Jason looking so calm and peaceful, it’s hidden away in Bruce’s personal files where no one can find them.

Tim can sort of see why given how vulnerable his predecessor looks right now. This is the Jason that Bruce remembers, the one he’s built up in his memory that’s different from the Jason once enshrined in the much-maligned class case in the Cave. This is the Jason Bruce is trying to find whenever he squares off with Red Hood and mourns as lost when he can’t find him.

Which is stupid since he’s still right here. I wonder if anyone else will ever realize that?

Tim decides not to wake Jason; he might have been a jerk before, but he should sleep while he can.

Instead, he settles in on the other couch with his laptop to review the surveillance shots he took himself and from the security feeds. If he can figure out just which of these mobster muscle heads is the easiest to break, he can get a better idea of what might have happened to the teenager in concrete.

I’ll just do a quick scan tonight, and study them in more detail tomorrow.

Of course, as usual, he gets invested in his work and doesn’t look up again until about four o’clock, when Isa’s sharp cry pieces the silence. Tim jumps, having completely forgotten her presence, but that’s nothing on Jason, who vaults upward from his spot on the couch, body tense and prepared to react to whatever caused the noise, friend or foe.

His hand is already reaching for a gun—one that Tim is thankful to see is no longer there.

“It’s okay, it’s just time for the next feeding,” he says quietly, trying to sound both casual and soothing at the same time. Based on the bleary look he’s getting from Jason, he’s less than successful.

Jason glares at his empty hand, clenched as if to hold onto something, and Tim must be on the verge of falling asleep himself because for a moment he imagines he can see the outline of a sword.

Great. Hallucinations. Tomorrow’s going to be a triple-shot of espresso day, I can tell.

And it’s suddenly occurring to him that babies and their sudden loud noise-making skills might not be the best thing for someone that’s suffered the kinds of trauma Jason has.

He makes up a mental note to look up some strategies for that. He’s not quite sure how he’ll bring up the subject with Jason. While Jason is adamant that Tim’s the most like Bruce, when it comes to avoiding problems, he’s the one that has more in common with the man.

For now, he decides to just act as normal.

“You know there’s a perfectly good bed upstairs?” he quips. “Thousand thread count, fluffy pillows, solid mattress…”

“Shut up. I was watching something. Guess I fell asleep.” Jason swings around and makes a move toward the baby, but Tim makes a motion to stop him.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it.”

“You already took her when you got back.”

“How do you know? You were sleeping?”

“I was resting my eyes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Go to sleep or you’ll be face-planting in your coffee tomorrow.”

“I’ll be fine, I—"

“This isn’t your responsibility, Replacement. Go to bed—I’ll handle this.”

Jason is clearly not someone to be reasoned with when sleep-deprived; Tim always suspected that, of course, but he’s never had the up-close-and-personal experience. It doesn’t make him any less frustrated.

“The whole point of you staying here is for me to help,” he reminds him. “So would you just accept it already?”

“You’re also the one with a nine-to-five job and actually need the friggen sleep.”

Tim grimaces. “Fine. But I’m going to make up a schedule for us tomorrow so we can divide the babysitting more equitably.”

“You do that, boy scout. Why don’t you make a chore-wheel while you’re at it?” Jason jeers, taking the baby and heading for the kitchen. “This isn’t kindergarten.”

“Are you sure about that?” Tim shoots back, scowling in frustration.

Just for that, I will make one. See if I don’t.

⁂⁂⁂

Your feedback matters! I want to know what you think of my story, so feel free to leave kudos, a comment or as many of these emojis as you want and let me know how you feel!

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Next Chapter

[darlingod]

Jurdan Au

post wicked king, when jude comes back for cardans’s blood.

(can’t promise any grammar is correct)

I walk into the High King’s scattered room. It looks the same as it did a year ago, but it feels… different. Unfamiliar.

He’s at the end of the bed, head down as if disappointed, ashamed. Which he should be. He looks not like a king, but a boy. Something he never was. Never had the chance to be.

I wonder if he spends all of his time moping in his room like this. I hope he does.

He picks on the sides of his fingernails, a habit he may have picked up on from the time I’ve been gone.

I take an almost inaudible, but loud enough, step to show my presence. He doesn’t look up as he whispers, “Jude.” Not a question, a statement. After this long he knows it’s me. I do not know how he knows. And I also do not care.

I think.

“Hello, darling.” I mock what he once called me. I smile at him as if we were close friends. As if we didn’t hate each other. Yet he still doesn’t move. To see the High King in a state like this is odd, maybe even a little amusing. What has affected him this way? What could? He has his wine, his courtiers.

His crown.

What else more could he want and not have?

I’m suddenly hot with anger. The person in front of me has always had a gift of pissing me off all too easily. I hate myself for it. I hate him for it. My blood boils at the memories. Of the mere thought of him. “It’s been awhile,” my hatred is thankfully concealed. I cannot let him know the effect he still has on me. How angry he can make me. Any other feeling I had towards him is very, long gone. Not even the fae can see it.

His dark locks are dangling in front of his face, long but not too much longer than when I left. It seems Cardan never fails to take care of himself, no matter the circumstances.

What circumstances? He never cared. He exiled you because you are nothing to him.

I cock my head to the side, “Though, it wasn’t in any of my control since you exiled me,” he lifts his head up slowly, his hair naturally moving out of his face. His eyes drift to my finger, where the ring isn’t. His face is neutral but I can see the exhaustion. Good. “It was hard, however, nothing I couldn't handle.” I mention for no reason. I have nothing to prove to him.

Then why isn’t he in pieces on the floor already?

“You’ve always been able to handle anything.” A lie he believes. He truly believes that. I wish I could believe it too.

“You are not wrong, Your Unbearable Highness,” I don’t even attempt a courtesy, I’m too angry for dramatics.

As I said the words, his eyes lock with mine and I grin wider at the sadness I see in them. At the mess I see. He’s been terrible without me, this I know. This, I want to scream with delight.

“You won’t say my name.” he says and I fight a scowl.

“You don’t need a name,” I spit, “you have a title. One that I gave you and in return, you repaid in kind.” I say with laminated respect, still smiling. I lift my hand up and start picking at my nails, to act as though this conversation has no effect to me at all. “Banishing me was clever, more than I’d like to admit. I wouldn’t allow myself to believe that you had become accustomed to playing High King, turning me blind to your talents, your desires. Well played,” I take a step toward him, our gazes still connected. I’m about to take another but his next words stop me short.

“I’m sorry.” My eyes go wide and my smile falters. I swallow hard, too shocked to do anything else. Those were the last words I thought I’d ever hear from his mouth. I almost wish he didn’t say them. Maybe I could start with cutting his tongue off. It would fix so many problems.

“What?” I question unbelievably, my voice coming out high.

“I’m so sorry, Jude,” He covers the right side of his face with a hand and wipes an eye exhaustingly and a bit dramatically.

“You don’t mean that.” I accuse and he scoffs.

“Of course I do. I cannot lie.” He snaps, obviously pissed off by the fact. He relaxes himself and drops the hand on his face. “I’ve thought about it every day since you left. I’ve thought about you every day since you left.” he quietly curses at himself.

“Since you exiled me.” I correct harshly. “Since you humiliated me in front of our court. You made me look nimble and insane. You made me look powerless.” He makes a pained face though continues.

“And you killed my brother,�� I flinch as he snaps. I never intended to kill Balekin. I never intended to kill anyone. It’s not my fault the fae have a talent for underestimating me. “I had plenty of reasons to exile you. You forget, Jude, that I don’t forgive. You forget that I’m not the childish, naive boy I was a year ago,”

“And who made you who you are today? Who gave you the title you currently hold?” I question but we both already know the answer. I tell him anyway, to make him realize a mortal gave him something that he, himself, a faerie, couldn’t take. “I, a weak mortal, made the folk believe you are important. They no longer think of you stupid and foolish because of me; because of a mortal.” I push my words into his face, something I’ve always been so good at, especially with him.

He pushes back. “Does it nag at you that no one knows you are the crown?” He raises a single, dark brow. “True, they don’t see me as foolish, but they see you as that. I was not the one who was exiled, I was not the one who lost the crown. I was not the one,” he tilts his head to the side, “to lose power.” And he smiles.

The Devil smiles.

“I don’t have power? Who’s the one with the knife?” It’s my turn to grin. His black eyes start to glow. I try not to remember why.

“Beside those facts, I still hate myself everyday for what I did.” My smiles fades. “It was the most idiotic thing I have ever done, and I’ve done many idiotic things.” He admits and closes his eyes, hiding whatever he feels. If he feels at all.

“Then why’d you do it?” His eyes snap open. Now it’s his turn to be surprised.

“What?”

“Was it because I posed a threat?” I take a step closer, leaving two feet separating us. “To spare your feelings?” Another step. “Or did you always feel nothing at all?” I let my emotions get the best of me, I compose myself, empty my expression, which is something I have gotten too good at. I take my last step and lean closer to his face so we are only inches apart. He’s much taller than me but I feel as though we’re on the same level. I hope I make him feel small. “You said you had many reasons to exile me, tell me the most valuable one, the one that settled my exile.” He’ll tell me, I’m not worried about that at all.

“You want to know why I really exiled you.” his eyes fall to my lips, then to my knife, then back up to my lips.

“The High King actually listens now does he?” He raises an eyebrow. I lean back up and cross my arms. “Of course I want to know. It’s been gnawing at me ever since.” I exasperate, flinging my arms in the air. As I do, he looks uncomfortable and moves his body slightly. His eyes are on my knife and I fight the urge to laugh.

He waits a few seconds to see what I’ll do, he doesn’t move until I put the knife back into my pocket. His eyes dart up to my eyes then he says, “I did it to protect you.” Impossible. So stunningly impossible I can’t believe it. I am not able to.

But he cannot lie.

For once I wish he had the ability to.

“You were constantly getting hurt, being threatened. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to offer protection, but I would not allow my true feelings to show. Not allow you to know how I felt.” True feelings? I thought he only knew what anger and hatred were like, in those ways we were the same. He goes on, “After the Under Sea made their move and took you their prisoner, I went mad. I blamed Madoc, then myself, for not protecting you at all.” I want to scream at the memories that surface from the Under Sea.

“I never needed protection. I’m no challenged. I’m a challenge.” I pride myself, almost smiling again. But smiling is hard to do when the person you hate most stands only inches from you.

“When you were brought back to the land, and I saw you, that state you were in, I…” He looks for the words. “Hate was never such a weak word for how I felt. I wanted to rip apart the sea bit by bit. To drain the waters, or freeze it perhaps. To destroy it all whole at least.

They kept you in that dress.” His voice softly breaks. “It didn’t fit you as nearly as it had used to, you were more of a hanger for it. So frail; your rib cage was sticking out too far, as if they never fed you. Which I doubt they did.” He says bitterly. “It completely and utterly destroyed me.” He glares at me. “You destroy me.” Distaste covers his face. “And that was it for me. I was so sick of everything terrible happening to you. Sick of people using you against me.

So I began planning,” He sits up straighter. “I thought of all I could, Jude. Trust me. I want nothing more for you to stay with me. I needed you by my side, especially then. But only one idea was the most reasonable, most effective.” Exile.

Words do not find their way to my mouth.

“I’m truly sorry. You killed my brother and I still cared. I even thought you’d be glad to be sent away to your home, to be rid of ever seeing me again. Then you cried and I acted like it didn’t affect me at all. Acting is very easy when you convince yourself it’s not an act.” I know that, I’ve done it plenty of times.

I take a step back. “Did you know how miserable I was?” I shout. “How horrifying it was to be forced to go back to the home that I witnessed my parents murdered? My memories had never been so frightening. I have never been more terrified in my entire life.

I never got to know them, Cardan! I never got to love them enough. Do you know what I did get?” I yell, not intending for a reply from him. “To know what it’s like to feel absolutely nothing at all,” tears start to fall from my face, I don’t don’t have the strength to wipe them. “I never got to experience what loving was like, to be loved. I never had the chance to be a child.” I cry. “The chance to be human. I’ve never had the chance for anything, my life was fated illy.” I stay quiet a few seconds, then, “I miss them so much, everyday. I think about how I could’ve stopped it. Yelled at my father to stop or to stop my mother. Or hurt Madoc. But I just stood there, not able to do anything.” I choke out. “In the end,” I inhale slowly, trying to steady my breath. “I am always powerless.”

I don’t realize I’ve fallen to the ground, Cardan in front of me, hand cupping my cheek, eyes filled with too much real emotion that I decide not to place. “Don’t touch me.” I swat his hand away and wipe my tears, only to see him crying as well.

Cardan.

Crying.

I’ve always been so delusional.

“Stop it.” I demand. Confusion strikes his devastating face. “You don’t cry. You don’t feel anything at all.”

“You’d be surprised how I feel.” He seethes, wiping his fallen tears.

“Well then,” I say, wiping all emotion from my words. We both stand up, Cardan eyes me suspiciously. I whip out my knife faster than he can detect and push him against the hard wall, blade to his throat. “Give me a reason not to kill you,” I don’t know if I’m begging him or not.

“Oh I have no reason, though, I feel as though I need to tell you something.” I shrug, lacking care. I think.

“It’s too bad I wasn’t planning on keeping you alive either way.” I make a move to cut him-

“I love you.” I jump back immediately, as if he was the one with a knife to my throat. My knife flies into the wall, where his head just was.

Cardan stares endlessly at me. As if he can’t believe his words either.

“No you don’t,” is all I say, all I can say.

“I wouldn’t allow myself have it be true. But when I banished you, the way I felt… I knew. I knew and I thought I was going to die.” I almost laugh. “No, I knew long before that,”

“You’ve found a way to lie.” I say, stunned.

“Oh dear Jude, if I had we would definitely not be having this conversation.”

[amsrober02-blog]

The good, the bad, and the ugly

This past treatment was especially difficult. I had all sorts of side effects I hadn’t yet experienced. Neuropathy set in: tingling fingers and throat. The continued loss of muscle control in my hands was worse. The nausea was intensified with the tingling throat. I’ve also started losing hair. This chemo causes a slow hair loss (thinning). I look in the mirror thinking that I will see bald spots, but I have not yet. It makes me wonder how many hairs are actually on my head because I’ve lost hundreds of strands. My energy level has taken a dive this time as well. I’m extremely exhausted most days. Also... stomach issues.... we’ll just leave it at that. On top of it, I also took a pregnancy test. Apparently chemo can mess with your menstrual cycle. Who knew? Btw... I’m not pregnant even though I dreamt about nursing a sweet baby. Hahaha!

So onto my off week. I look so forward to normal life when I feel good. I don’t take for granted the ability to feel hungry and energetic. The normalcy that comes on my off weeks is bittersweet. I try to fit as much into my off weeks as I can. I read a lot and connect with people a lot. Anthony and I try to squeeze lots of dinners in with new families from church and close friends as well. Community with these people is so very important to us. I find myself tired at the end of each week, but so fulfilled by the joy the Lord brings me through these people that lift us up. I find myself enjoying talking to complete strangers and try to have real conversations with people: cashiers, whoever is sitting next to me at a show choir event (I may have made friends with a 75 year old man named Jim. He is absolutely the sweetest and so kind), and even new people at church. I find myself breaking inside at the fact that there are still people who don’t understand how wonderful it is to not just know who Jesus is, but what it means to have a real relationship with Him. I want others to have this so badly it hurts.

On that same note, can I just say how amazing this community is? Here we are a couple of months into this process and people are still reaching out. I just left a benefit auction for my sweet friend, Shelley’s little boy who is struggling with brain cancer. Not only are people lifting him up in prayer, but they came together to give $ to this family so willingly. Dozens of people and companies donated items and gift cards to help a complete stranger. My other sweet, giving friend donated a large meal to feed everyone that participated today. On top of it, she even made me a meal. It just continues to amaze me how God uses people to bless others in such selfless ways. My own school/work: Morgan Elementary is holding a fundraiser that second graders have organized so that they can help support myself and two other teachers affected by cancer. I hope the biggest lesson they learn is that they are never too young to make a difference and bless others. God can use them right now at this very moment to do big things; and what big things they are doing! I’m so proud to be part of a community like this.

If you’ve sent a message, a card, a gift, a meal, please know what a huge impact that you’ve had on my life and my walk with the Lord. Your kindness is like a giant embrace from my sweet Jesus. The prayers and actions of others have helped pave the road that was once blocked by mountains. I couldn’t see my way out not long ago. To be honest, there are still days that I feel overwhelmed by it all. The thought of 9 more treatments seems insurmountable at times. When you’re in the midst of everything, it just feels like too much. But then you push through, God gives me the boost I need, and I go onto the next one each time.

I’m reading a new book called “When God Doesn’t Fix It” by Laura Story. It’s about a woman whose husband was diagnosed with a brain tumor that would eventually affect his mental health. During this process, she talked about how the world just seemed to spin around her. Everyone wanted to do something to help, but a lot of times their words would be too much or she felt as if she would need to console them, but she had nothing to give. She had a quote I underlined and loved. It said, “My favorite visitors were the ones who said the three magic words: not “I love you,” or even, “I am praying for you,” but “Here’s your latte.” Those words made me smile each time I heard them because the people who brought me lattes weren’t trying to give me answers. They were just trying to give me coffee. They sat with me and wept with me and never said a word. They were the ones who refilled my empty cup.” That has been so many of you. After I received my diagnosis, so many of my friends just met me where I was. You told me it sucks. You didn’t try to fix it. You sat and cried with me, prayed with me, and fed me donuts. Lol! You all knew that I just needed to be loved and I can’t thank you enough. No one could make this go away. No one could fix it, but you showed me the love and grace of God through your selfless actions.

Psalm 43:3 says, “Send me your light and your faithful care, let them lead me; let them bring me to your holy mountain, to the place where you dwell.” I love this verse. The world can feel dark and scary when you’re going through something you don’t understand, but our God is there. He isn’t tricky. We don’t have to search for Him. We don’t have to earn His love or even be worthy of His presence. We just have to accept His love. And once you do, wow. Your life will change. Tears come to my eyes when I think of how different life might have been had God not allowed this trial. The blessings I would have missed out on had I not gone through it would have been a shame. He knew that my spiritual health was more important than my physical health. He knew the spiritual health of those around me was just as important and how their lives would change because of an inconvenience to mine. His love is so much bigger than we can fathom. His light is brighter than darkness. And where there is darkness, His light is even brighter. Why is that? It’s because although we live in a fallen world and evil is in it (sickness, death, sadness), He still reigns. There will come a day when all of this will end. For some of us, it will come with death. For others, it will come with Christ’s return. Until that day, I will continue to glorify Him despite my circumstances because He is so good.

So.... I look forward to this next week. I’m praying that God will use me this week to bless others the way that they have blessed me. I pray that my eyes and heart will be open to the needs of others. If you don’t know Jesus, reach out to me this week. I want to share with you the love that is waiting for you if you’ll just accept it. Life will throw you curve balls and you’ll hit road blocks, but your life can be so much more fulfilling if you know Jesus. 💙

[mininky]

Tainted Souls (Jimin)

Summary: Vampires were no longer a myth, the world knew that they were very very real. The world wasn’t ready for it, and they really weren’t ready to find out that all those whacky conspiracy theorists finally got something right. A lot of celebrities were, in fact, undead. Including BTS. Touring constantly, always on the move it was painfully difficult to ensure that they received their meals. Until their manager learned of a business that specialized in vampire fine dining.

Pairing: Vampire!Jimin x Reader

Warnings: explicit sex scenes including oral sex (male receiving), biting, a light noona kink, an insecure Jimin

Word Count: 5.1K    

Series list: Prologue, Jin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook

   Jimin is an interesting character, one that you can't exactly pinpoint to any one specific thing. One minute he can be almost childlike with a near innocent enthusiasm and in the next moment, he can remind you of a broken lost soul that had traveled far too long and then suddenly he can be the carnal representation of his being...a vampire. All this in a time frame of fewer than fifteen minutes, honestly sometimes you wonder if he gives even himself emotional whiplash. In the last month that you've gotten to know him, you've concluded that no matter how much time you spend around him you'll always uncover new sides. He's always changing, evolving, growing right before your eyes. He's much more then the looks let on, or even what he shows on the surface.    When you first met him he couldn't look you in the eyes. He was the definition of anxiety energy. His eyes looking everywhere but at you, his foot constantly tapping, his fingers twisting around his sweater. The first feeding had been...awkward to say the least. He asked you at least four times if it was okay before finally sinking into your wrist. He then immediately pulled back and asked if it hurt. He asked about six times afterward if you were feeling okay and if you were sure everything was fine. It was sweet, even if slightly annoying. You've fed a lot of vampires and it was a lot like any other customer service job. No one ever gave a shit about the employee, just their own experience. Until Jimin that is.    That first feeding also seemed to stir a change in your relationship. Perhaps it was because he had your blood that he finally got comfortable. Actually started speaking to you without whispering, finally looking you in your eyes. You'd like to think it was because he finally relaxed, but you're pretty sure that he only relaxed because of the effects of your blood. You see, what a lot of people still don't realize (even after vampires went public) is the effects of blood on a vampire. Tainted Souls knew it down to a scientific level, they even tested your blood not just for diseases but for certain...benefits each blood can give. Just like how some foods can give you certain boosts some blood can too. It's a true vampire fine dining experience.    There are still multiple studies being done on vampires and how they live and what exactly blood does to them, nothing is yet conclusive. But in all the years that Tainted Souls has been around, they've learned things that the general public and the scientific world is still struggling with. Blood can carry certain flavors for a vampire, but it can also carry more. Some blood can elicit certain emotional reactions, although that's not always the case. It's usually only when the person giving the blood has very strong emotions at the time. Senses of fear, elation, desires...well those can be communicated to vampires through blood. And you had been prepping hard for Jimin's first feeding. He'd been so nervous around you that you had pulled out all the stops. From yoga to meditation to chamomile tea before seeing him. And it worked like a charm. For the first time, you finally saw him relax, anxiety melting off of him and that was the start to your friendship with him.    As time went on you got to learn a lot more about him. It's hard not to when you're constantly there. You knew that the job would be travel heavy, but you certainly hadn't expected that so soon into the job. Almost two weeks in and you were jet-setting around the world. Even when you considered that they were vampires and able to handle more than the average human it was still mind-boggling to think of the amount of work and stress they functioned under daily. You only got a taste of it as you traveled with them, and you were already exhausted. Jimin had faithfully been there for you, constantly checking in to make sure that everything was okay.    During that time you learned a lot. Namely how shit you were at packing, but luckily it seemed like between all of Bangtan and the rest of the girls someone always had whatever it was you needed. If not then while the guys were working you could set off on a small day trip and explore while shopping. But you've also learned a lot about Jimin. He has a tendency to overthink, to internalize all of his problems. He's bright and sunny, but painfully afraid of not being good enough. He compares himself far too often. He's still learning how to be comfortable in his own skin. He works hard at many things, but you're afraid that it's usually to prove something not to himself but to others. The rest of Bangtan is good at reassuring him, but again he overthinks even reassurance. For a vampire, he's painfully human.    And this brings you to right now, sitting with Jimin's head in your lap as he tries not to cry. His voice cracked in the last performance of the concert, and he feels that he failed the fans, his group, himself. He's refused all the other guys who've tried to come over and comfort him but when you came over he immediately curled up into your lap. You've been through this enough times to know that sometimes words don't need to be said. So instead you just run your fingers through his hair and give him a comfort that doesn't force him to speak. Eventually, the tears start to fall, and you can hear him try to stay quiet but soon the dam bursts. You hear him hiccup a few times before he seems to finally stops. "I'm sorry."    "There's nothing to apologize for. You're safe to feel however you want to feel around me. And you are with the rest of the guys too. Are you feeling a little better now?" Your words are just slightly louder than a whisper, your hands still running through his hair as he nestles further into your thighs.    "Yeah...a little. I um...thanks." You nod in response as he turns around and blinks up at you. His eyes are red and puffy, his cheeks look rounder and lips poutier from this angle. He looks more like a child seeking comfort than a world-famous sex-pot vampire. You smile down at him as he places a cold hand on your cheek. "You're the best."    "Oh, there are plenty of people better than me. But I will admit that I'm pretty good." You smile wider as he laughs and smushes his face into your stomach. Jungkook hurtles over at the sound and flings himself onto the couch next to you.    "No fair Jimin! I want noona to comfort me too!" Jimin turns over to glare at the younger boy. Angry Jimin is rare, but you've noticed lately that he's been rather territorial over you. When you first started Jimin had just gone along with the other two younger boys when they would jokingly flirt with you. Lately, though, he hasn't been having any of it. Even when he sees one of the other members just talking to you he always finds a way to insert himself into the conversation. Part of you wonders if it's jealousy. Part of you kind of wants it to be because that would mean that perhaps he likes you just as you like him.    "You have your own girl. Go annoy her instead. You're bothering noona." And with that Jimin turns back around, giving Jungkook the cold shoulder as he runs a hand through your hair. You glance over at Jungkook to see the younger boy get up grumbling as he slowly ambles over to his own partner. Jimin huffs at the lack of attention before you look back down at Jimin.    "He wasn't really bothering me."    "Yes he was, you don't have to be so nice. Besides...he was...bothering me." Jimin looks away and chews down on his lower lip before changing the subject. "Hey, noona, do you think you could stay with me tonight?"    "Sure. Do you want to head out now?" Jimin ponders your question for a bit before sitting up and nodding his agreement with the idea.    The trip back to the hotel is quiet, but it's certainly not uncomfortable. You've long grown used to the warm fuzzy feeling that accompanies you around Jimin, and while before silence would've been unnerving a couple of months ago now it's just nice. The two of you were friends. You meshed well together, and he was just so easy to be around. Some of the other girls teased you for how needy Jimin could be around you, but you enjoyed it. It was nice feeling wanted, needed. It was nice to be able to help him. Although, if you were honest...you do wish that you could do that under a pretense that was a smidge more serious than a friend. Especially during quiet moments like these, when he doesn't speak but he just grips your hand tightly and makes random tiny comments about all the things he sees out the windows. Or when you do stay the night in his room, just talking about everything and nothing until he falls asleep clutching onto you.    You've fallen for Jimin hard. It's difficult not to. His quiet, calm voice. His moments of affection. The way he seeks approval from you. The way he seeks acceptance so earnestly in a way that you wish you could do. But you also know that there's a lot on his plate. And as the older one, as the 'rock' in this friendship, you feel it would be unfair to admit these feelings to him. In a strange way, you're almost in a place of power since you are the one he goes to when he needs someone. And saying you want more might rock that dynamic in a way that he didn't want. In a way that could hurt him. Yes, you'd love nothing more than to kiss off the pout on his lips but it wouldn't be fair to him. If he wants it, then you'll gladly accept. But until then, you'll remain by his side in whatever form he needs the most.

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

   Words can't describe how it feels to wake up next to Jimin. It's both the best moment and the most heartbreaking. Every time you've slept next to him it's been platonic. But it doesn't stop the breath that hitches in your throat when you see his soft face next to yours. Or the little fuzzy feeling that envelopes you when he pulls you closer, snuggling tightly into you. But because it's under the label of friends it does give you a dash of sorrow. Of longing. Of guilt at feeling this way. So you take a moment to blink away the tears that threaten before pulling yourself out of the bed and leaving a tiny good morning note on the pillow before silently making your way to your room next door.    Each step feels heavy, your heart thudding pitifully as you get further away from Jimin. You wish it was simpler. You wish you could just will the feelings away. You wish that you could just be a good friend with no other intentions. Poor Jimin, he just needs a friend and here you are thinking about making out with him every five seconds.    By the time you make your way downstairs for breakfast and a much-needed cup of coffee that you're hoping will ward off all your negative thoughts you've run into Yoongi's girl. At first you think about running away but she's quick to wave you over to her table so instead, you sit down with your yogurt and muffin and coffee.    You've gotten to know all of them well, but there are three of them that...well if you're honest they terrify you a bit. Yoongi's blood type is certainly not one to be messed with. You've watched her deck a girl who once found out the flight you all were on and tried to snap pictures of everyone. You then watched her break the phone. With her bare hands. You didn't know that was possible. The other one who terrifies you is Hobi's blood type. Sure, she looks cute and innocent but you've seen what she packs on these trips. She's basically a traveling sex store. And then there's Jungkook's type. If you thought Yoongi's type was tough then Jungkook's type was head bitch in charge. She once put a fangirl in a headlock and almost choked her out. To be fair, it turned out to be someone who was stalking Jungkook. Even the bodyguards had a hard time wrestling them apart though.      It's not that you don't like the girls, you really do. In fact, they all treat you like protective mother cats and you their little kitten. But there's always that reminder when you're with them that these girls are all probably the type to get away with murder. "Ah, (y/n), my favorite little blood type. Hey, what do you say we trade? I'm sick of snippy. I want Ji-"    "No." Your tone surprises both of you. Her eyes grow wide before she breaks off into a fit of giggles.    "I didn't know you had it in you, kid. To be fair though, snippy has that effect on people. He has a strange way of making everyone angry." You watch her take a bite of her apple as she tilts her head and analyzes you and then lights up as she spots someone behind her. She waves them over quickly. "Speak of the devil! Or vampire, whatever. Tomato potato."    "It's tomato, to-"    "Hey, guys! I thought I'd find you down here! It was cold in the room without you." You stop speaking the moment you hear Jimin's dulcet tone. Your eyes travel back over to see Yoongi's blood type smiling widely at you. Oh no. You know that look. It's the exact look a fat cat gets when he sees food.    "Interesting. Very interesting. The room was cold you say? Interesting." Yoongi's blood type nods to herself as she speaks.    "What's she going on about?" Jimin whispers to you, scooching the seat next to you closer until his thighs are touching yours.    "Well, vampires don't exactly feel temperature changes. That and the fact that you just said we slept in the same room." Each word gets quieter and quieter until it's almost unintelligible. If it weren't for his superb hearing he certainly wouldn't have been able to catch the last bit of it.    "Oh." Jimin nods before looking over at Yoongi's blood type and leaning in closer to you. "She kind of scares me."    "I do not! You just want her to hug you and protect you, you big baby."    "Hey! (Y/N), tell her to leave me alone!" Jimin pouts as he rests his head on your shoulder and you can't help but laugh at his antics.    "I'm going to be invited to the wedding, right?" You choke on your coffee. If you hadn't seen her break that phone you would strangle her. But let's be honest, she'd kick your ass and then probably buy you consolation 'you tried' ice cream afterward.    "What wedding?" Jimin pops his head up as he scrunches his eyebrows together in confusion.    "You two you dingus. I hear wedding bells chiming in your near future."    "It's too early in the morning to keep teasing us." You bite into you muffin with bitterness, missing the crestfallen look in Jimin's eyes.    "Noona doesn't like me like that."    "Are you kidding me? God, you both are such fucking idiots. Jimin likes you (y/n). (Y/N) is so in love with you Jimin it's gross. Now, if you'll excuse me I'm going to go to the hotel spa and put it on Bighit's tab before the two of you make out in front of everyone. Also, you're welcome for saying something so the two of you idiots would stop this 'friend' charade. Everyone in a ten-mile radius can see that you want to fuck." You watch her with a dropped jaw as she saunters away before whipping your head over to Jimin.    He looks like a cornered rabbit before something feral takes over. Eye color morphing from dark brown into a deep crimson. The same look he gets when he's feeding...when he's found prey. Gone is cute and innocent Jimin. Gone is your chance of running away. "(Y/N)...do you like me? Please be honest." His voice is so quiet it almost hides the slight quiver in it.    "I...yes. I'm sorry I know-"    "I like you too. She's scary, but she's helpful at least." Jimin gives you a wide cherub smile.    "She's certainly a straight shooter." You still for a moment as Jimin grabs your hand before melting into the touch. You don't regret not telling him sooner. Had you been rash and blurted it out it might not have worked out this way. So instead you just relish in the warmth that rushes through you as he gazes tenderly at you.    "So, can I...call you my girlfriend?"    "I would love that."

------------------------------    It's been a month since you've started dating Jimin, and it's been painfully slow. Don't get it wrong, you've never been happier. But...but Jimin isn't the only needy one in this relationship. Your needs are just...well you've gotten good at covering them up. But every time he kisses you, everytime you think things might progress it just suddenly stops. But tonight you're hoping will finally change that. You've even enlisted Hoseok's blood type's help for this in the form of the cutest lingerie you've ever seen that she helped you purchase. She also somehow managed to discretely deliver the largest box of condoms you've ever owned to your hotel room.    You spend a few minutes trying to relieve your anxiety before slipping on your trench coat (cliche perhaps, but it looks hot) and marching over to Jimin's room with your head held high. Before you can even knock on the door it's swinging open and revealing Jimin in sweatpants slung low, no t-shirt, and damp hair. "(Y/N)! You're here so much sooner than I thought you would be, come in!" You tear your eyes away from the smooth expanse of skin and sinfully delicious abs as you step into his room. "I'm just going to finish drying my hair really quick. You can pull up something on Netflix if you want."    You watch him enter the bathroom as you make your way over to the bed. Taking a deep breath you finally take off the coat and sit down on the edge right as you hear the dryer turn off. "Did you find something that you want to-oh my god." You look up slowly, trying your best to give a confident grin but your lips just shake with anxiety. His eyes are wide and you see him stop breathing for a moment before he steps closer. "You look...amazing." His hands clasp onto yours and he drinks in the sight of you for a moment before pulling you up and wrapping his hands around your waist. "Wow, you just look so...wow..."    This time you give a real smile, anxiety melts off of you under his touch. For a moment the two of you just stand there, grinning at one another until finally, you close the distance and press your lips onto his with fervor. His lips always make you melt into them. Soft and plush and perfect. His hands dip down from your waist and travel slowly and hesitantly to your ass before finally gripping the soft flesh firmly. A low groan escapes him as he rolls the flesh in his palm and you take the moment to explore his mouth. Tongues entwine together as feverish desire starts consuming you.    You can feel the dampness in your panties growing as his hips rock into yours. Your hands roam along his arms down to his sculpted pecs and lower still until their resting on the band of his sweatpants. You feel him freeze for a moment and he pulls back with a look of concerns. "Jimin...Jimin, we can stop baby. I'm sorry if I came off too strong I just-"    "No...no I don't want to stop. I just...I just umm. I'm not exactly..." Jimin won't look at you as he speaks, and it's not until you gently cup his face that he finally bites out the last of it. "Well, the guys always make fun of me. I'm not that...big..."    "Jimin, I couldn't care less. I don't care about things like size, I just want you. Besides..." You slowly move your hand back down to the bulge and cup it gently. "It certainly doesn't feel small." You watch him gulp, his wide eyes following your movements as you drop onto your knees. "Are you okay with going further?"    "Yes, god yes." Jimin watches with rapt attention as you pull off his sweatpants and you watch his dick spring out of the confines. Even if he had been small you wouldn't have cared. But he's not. He's average in length, slightly thicker than average. If he's considered small then the rest of BTS must be monsters.    "Can I touch you?" You look up at Jimin through your lashes and you see him nod quickly before you take the length in your hand. For a moment you slowly travel the length before inching closer and finally swiping at the beads of precum spilling out with your tongue. You give a few kitten licks around the head, maintaining eye contact before taking the head in your mouth and moving down slowly. Each small movement has him whining and by the time you've reached the base he looks like he's gone feral. His hips buck sporadically, causing lewd choked moans to echo through the room.    The feeling is all too much for him, and for you. Each time you pull back up and give a few kitten licks around the base before diving back down he gives musical moans. And it's causing the wetness to become unbearable. You're clenching around nothing, dying for relief. You dip your hands into the black lace and slowly insert a finger. The movement doesn't go unnoticed by Jimin who's hands wrap into your hair as he bucks further down your throat. "You're so pretty noona. God, I could watch you touch yourself all day. And your mouth, fuck, fuck!" You find yourself spurred on by his words. You're moving quickly, both on his cock and with your fingers. Any hesitation or uncertainty has clearly left both of you. A long muffled moan from you finally spurs Jimin to pull back completely. Your face is a mess of tears and spit and precum as he pulls you up and into a heated kiss.    You know by the groan of satisfaction that he can taste himself on your tongue. His hands slide up your back to unlatch your bra and the sound of it hitting the carpet has both of you pulling back with heavy breathing. The weight of his gaze on your breasts has your breath hitching in your throat until he finally wraps his mouth around one taught bud and his hand reaches up to grip the other one. "Jimin, oh god!" Each touch has your nerves on fire, tingles running up your spine as your head falls back and eyes close shut. His fangs scrape along the sensitive flesh as his hand falls into the band of your panties.    His digits slip into your slick core with ease, his palm grinding against your clit with each movement. Your back arches up, breasts pressing into his face as you moan. It's all so much, to finally feel him on you. To finally be (almost) bare in front of him. To finally take this step further. The sensations from your nipple and the full feeling from three of his fingers have you dangling over the edge. Threatening to fall headfirst into an intense orgasm. But just as you see it arching over the horizon he's pulling out and grinning back down at the look of frustration on your face.    His pupils are so blown out they almost hide the flashes of red. The look of hunger in his eyes contrasts with the boyish mischevious smile on his face in a way that is so utterly Jimin you can't help but reach up and run your hands through his hair and then along his jawline. You want to be angry and pout over your denied orgasm, but you're too enthralled by the fact that this is finally happening. You finally get to have Jimin, all of him. "You're so handsome, Jimin." You watch a blush grow on his cheeks, a pretty shade of pink blooming all the way up to the tips of his ears.    For a moment the two of you are just entranced in one another. The world stops moving for a moment and then you watch him pull his wet digits up and pop them into his mouth with a groan. "You taste so good Noona." His eyes roll back, head thrown back and showing the smooth expanse of his neck. Adam's apple bobbing before he's moving again. He's quick to pull off your panties and spread your legs once again before getting up and rummaging around in his suitcase on the floor before tearing open the foil. Looks like you weren't the only one prepared.    You watch him slowly pump his cock and roll down the condom before he lines it up. You can feel it brush along the entrance of your wet core. You can feel your pussy throb with need at each small touch. "Jimin, please don't tease me. I need you. I want you, I want you so bad. Please baby. Please fuck me." You hear him whimper with need before he finally moves, thrusting in and filling you to the hilt all in one go. "Oh god, Jimin you feel so good!"    "Noona!" You watch him pull his bottom lip into his teeth before finally moving. His hips start snapping into you slowly at first, but each moan and whimper from you, each lewd squelch, seems to spur him on. Soon he's snapping into you with wanton abandon, the rhythm too fast for your mind to keep up. It's almost as if each time he's pulled out he's back in and back to just the right spot. Over and over until euphoria sets in and blinding white light sparks beneath your eyelids.    "Oh god, Jimin, please don't stop. Please, please, please! I'm going to cu-cu!" Your words are cut off by his fangs pressing into your neck and it hurtles you over the edge. Pleasure and pain mingle together, fireworks and stars appear as your toes curl into the bed sheets and hands weave into his soft hair. You can feel yourself still clenching around him sporadically each time he whimpers, each time his tongue flicks across the wounds and finally closes them up.    "You taste so good Noona! Fuck, I'm not going to last much longer." You can feel yourself coming back down now, coherant at last once again as you try to push back on his shoulders.    "Jimin, let me ride you. I want to make you cum." You watch his adam's apple bob as he grabs your thighs and flips the two of you over. His eyes remain trained on your hands as you grab at the base and slowly lower yourself onto it. The whimper that leaves him when he's finally all the way in has you clenching around him, spurring more musical notes out of him. "Oh god, Jimin you look so good under me." Your hands snake over his chest as you slide back up before rocking back down. Your hips swivel in circle eights before alternating back to rocking into him. You can feel your own desire building back up, the familiar tightening coil in your belly raging back to life. As you move faster to reach your own climax you can feel Jimin's muscles strain underneath you. Goosebumps raise up onto his flesh as you pull him into a needy kiss as you reach your second climax and he finally tumbles into his own. Tongues entwine together, hands roaming around each other blindly before the two of finally pull away panting messes.    You can feel him softening inside you before you finally pull out and lay down next to him. Your eyes shut and exhaustion starts to sweep over you as you hear him moving around and tying off the condom before tossing it and curling in bed next to you. "I love you noona. I love you so much, and I..."    "I love you too Minnie. But just a reminder, never be afraid to just be you around me. I love you for who you are, so don't hide around me. Just be you. Also, yes before you ask, I know that sometimes you act like you're afraid just so you can get me to hold you. You can just tell me, I like cuddling with you." You turn over to face him, peppering small kisses along his neck until he squirms and smushes you against his side to stop your ministrations.    "Sorry Noona, I just...I like when you hold me. You make me feel safe and happy. It's like when I'm with you I don't have to pretend to be cool or strong or awesome. I can just be me. But...I was talking to the guys and I realized something. I'm always using up all of our time for me, but I want you to be needy too. Or at least tell me when you want something. You don't put yourself first enough. You can tell me when you want something, or need something, or want to do something. I'm always here for you." Jimin was right, you didn't put yourself first enough. It wasn't his fault though, it was just how you've always been. Ever the little fixer, the helper, the mediator. But with Jimin, you were allowed to be honest when you wanted more.    "I'm glad I met you Jimin."    "Me too, noona. Me too." His words are quiet, just barely above a whisper. You're positive that Bighit wasn't intending for all of the blood types to pair up this way, but as you lay here next to the man you've grown to love deeper each day you can't help but feel it was fate.