#one day ill explain the mechanics of that vest

[alienssstufff]

📝📝📝📝📝🥳

I haven't drawn jrwi in laik forEVER - but then Wonderlust showed up and Aeon was dere and im like.... ohg. okayyyy

[nremtbuddy]

Assessments explained - Putting it all together

Scene size-up

BSI (Body Substance Isolation) / PPE (Personal Protective Equipment):

·         Gloves should be worn on every call

·         Masks should be considered for all patients with respiratory compromise, those who are coughing, and those with infectious illnesses.

·         Consider goggles when suctioning, childbirth, droplet precautions, etc.

·         Consider a gown when tending to patients with droplet precautions, MRSA with open wounds, clostridium difficile (c. diff), any patient in active labor, or any call in which body fluid exposure is possible

·         Traffic vests should be worn on all motor vehicle calls

Scene safety considerations:

·         Maintain crowd control during public events

·         Police should be present on any calls involving potential/known violence

·         Police should be present on any calls involving potential/known intoxication or overdoses

·         Fire department and police should be present on all traffic accidents

·         Reflective traffic vests should be worn on all calls involving public roads, no matter the time of day

·         Take extra precaution during events involving severe weather

·         Assure any animals on scene are secured in another location

·         Follow all site protocols when responding to construction/warehouse incidents.

·         HAZMAT should be present during incidents involving chemical exposures

Nature of illness/mechanism of injury (NOI/MOI): What you have been dispatched for. Examples include chest pain, traffic crash, breathing problem, general illness, fall, etc.

Number of patients: The total number of patients present on scene. Consider calling for extra resources when dealing with more than one patient. If you are the first to respond to a mass casualty incident, begin triaging the patients involved.

Additional resources: Call for additional resources when dealing with any incident involving scene safety hazards. Request a lift assist from dispatch when dealing with patients in difficult positions / those that are too heavy for you to safely lift on your own.

C-spine precautions: Stabilize your patient’s cervical spine during any incidents involving potential spinal compromise. Examples include motor vehicle collisions, falls in which there was a loss of consciousness or injuries to the head/neck/back, and with any patients who are unconscious from an unknown origin. Be sure to palpate the back of the cervical spine (looking for any deformities/instability/step-off) prior to applying a cervical collar.

Primary survey

General impression: Is your patient sick or not sick, injured or not injured. How is your patient presenting; what position they were found in, are they in obvious distress, what is the patient’s current affect or mood?

Level of consciousness / AVPU (Alert, Verbal, Pain, Unconscious):

·         Alert: Is your patient immediately aware of your presence upon arrival? If so, your patient is Alert.  When you have a patient who is alert, you must establish a level of orientation. This is done by asking 4 objective questions that most people would reasonably be expected to answer correctly. Examples include who is the current president, what is the current year or month, the city in which the patient currently is, what has happened, how many quarters make a dollar, who a family member present on scene is, etc. Avoid asking questions involving color identification as some patients may be color blind. As well, avoid asking your patient what the current date is. If your patient is able to answer all four questions correctly, they are alert and oriented x 4. This is written out A&Ox4. If your patient is only able to answer 3 questions correctly, they are A&Ox3, and so on. If your patient is unable to answer any questions correctly, they are A&Ox0, or alert and disoriented.

·         Verbal: If your patient is not immediately aware of your presence upon arrival, attempt speaking to them to attract their attention. If they respond to your presence when you speak, they are alert to Verbal stimulation.

·         Pain: If your patient does not respond to your presence when you speak, attempt to gain their attention by squeezing the trapezius muscle or apply firm pressure to the patient’s fingernail with a pen. If your patient responds to pain, they are alert to Painful stimulation.

·         Unconscious: If your patient does not respond to any verbal or painful stimuli, they are Unconscious.

Chief complaint / apparent life threats: The chief complaint differs from the MOI/NOI as this is the complaint that the patient verbalizes to you, as opposed to dispatch’s call nature of illness/mechanism of injury. For example, you are dispatched for chest pain. Upon arrival, the patient states that they are experiencing a burning sensation in their chest. The nature of illness would be chest pain, whereas the chief complaint would be a burning sensation in the chest.

Airway, breathing, and circulation: life threats

Airway: Does your patient have a patent airway? How do you know? Are they snoring/gurgling/apneic, or speaking to you in full and complete sentences?

·         If you have an airway compromise, first try to reposition the head. With no suspected spinal injury, this would be done with a head-tilt, chin-lift. With a suspected spinal injury, this would be done with a jaw thrust maneuver.

·         Look in the mouth for any visible airway obstructions. For a partial obstruction, encourage your patient to keep coughing. With a full airway obstruction, perform abdominal thrusts and prepare to begin CPR.

·         If you hear your patient gurgling, look in the mouth for fluids and prepare to suction.

·         If you hear your patient snoring, reposition the head and consider an airway adjunct.

·         Consider an adjunct to maintain a patent airway. Examples include oropharyngeal airways (OPA), nasopharyngeal airways (NPA), or a supraglottic airway (King, LMA, iGel, Combitube, etc)

Breathing: Asses your patient’s breathing. Are they breathing adequately to sustain life? Do you need to provide rescue ventilations?

·         If your patient is breathing at an inappropriate rate or depth, consider providing rescue ventilations with a bag valve mask (BVM)

·         Attempt to coach patients that are hyperventilating due to stress or anxiety back into a normal breathing rate.

·         Consider CPAP for CHF or COPD patients with breathing difficulties, ONLY if they are conscious and able to follow directions while also maintaining their own airway.  

Oxygenation: Place a pulse oximeter on the patient’s finger to record an SpO2 reading. Remember: if the patient has fake nails or nail polish, turn the pulse oximeter sideways on the patient’s finger.

·         If your pulse oximeter reads above 94%, your patient does not need supplemental oxygen

·         If you pulse oximeter reads 90-93%, your patient requires low flow oxygen. This is provided with a nasal cannula (NC) at a rate of 2-6 liters per minute (LPM)

·         If your pulse oximeter reads <90%, your patient requires high flow oxygen. This is provided with a non-rebreather mask (NRB) at a rate of 10-15 LPM

*Please note the difference between oxygenation and ventilation: the need for oxygenation is shown in the patient’s skin condition/perfusion and SpO2 reading. The need for ventilation is shown in the patient’s breathing rate and depth. If oxygen levels are low but the patient has an appropriate rate and depth of breathing, they ONLY require supplemental oxygen. If the patient’s oxygen levels are low and they are breathing at an inappropriate rate and depth, they require manual ventilation with a bag valve mask at 25 LPM*

*You must have an open airway to be able to appropriately breathe. You must be able to appropriately breathe to have adequate oxygenation. You must have good oxygenation to have adequate perfusion*

Circulation: How is the patient’s perfusion? Are there any exsanguinating bleeds? Remember, when dealing in trauma with significant bleeds, the ABCs should be performed as CAB.

·         Asses your patients pulse rate. If they are a conscious adult, assess the radial pulse. For an unconscious adult, assess the carotid pulse. In infants, assess the brachial pulse. How does the pulse feel? Is it fast/slow/bounding/weak? Describe the pulse.

·         Asses the patient’s skin condition. Determine the temperature, color, condition, and capillary refill time. Normal, healthy skin should be pink, warm, dry, and have a capillary refill of less than 2 seconds. If the skin is pale, cool, and clammy with an extended capillary refill time, prepare to treat for shock.

·         Find and control any major bleeding. Do a full body blood sweep to locate any unseen bleeds. For any bleed found, immediately apply direct pressure. If direct pressure fails to control the bleed, apply more gauze pads and harder pressure. If this doesn’t work, consider packing the wound or applying a tourniquet.

·         Shock treatment includes applying high flow oxygen via a NRB, laying the patient supine, and maintaining their body heat with a blanket.  

Determine patient priority and transport decision: If the patient has any compromise involving their ABC’s, they are a high priority and must be transported as soon as the life threat has been controlled. If the patient does not have any immediate life threats, you are able to stay on scene and stabilize any further issues as you find them. Remember to spend as little time on scene as possible.

*Vital signs should be performed as soon as is appropriate during your assessment. Vital signs include blood pressure, pulse rate, breathing rate, blood glucose level, and temperature. *

History taking and differential diagnoses

During your secondary assessment, you will begin establishing a patient history. There are two acronyms to help you remember the information to obtain: SAMPLE and OPQRST. SAMPLE questions are focused towards establishing your patient’s medical history and events leading up to the emergency at hand. OPQRST questions are focused on your patient’s current signs, symptoms, and pain level. These questions can help you begin to form a differential diagnosis regarding your patient’s current condition. A differential diagnosis is a working hypothesis of the nature of the current problem. (AMLS, NAEMT.)

SAMPLE will be used in both medical and trauma scenarios, whereas OPQRST only applies to medical scenarios.

SAMPLE

S: Signs and symptoms. Signs are objective- they are what you can see. Symptoms are subjective- they are what your patient is feeling. For example, you arrive on scene for an abdominal pain emergency. Your patient is in the fetal position (a sign) and states that they are having extreme lower abdominal pain (a symptom.)

A: Allergies. Establish if your patient has any medication or environmental allergies. Be sure to ask your patient what occurs when they encounter their specific allergens- do they go into anaphylaxis or is it a simple allergic reaction? Allergy information will help you add to your differential diagnosis. For example, you are tending to a patient with a history of asthma and seasonal allergies. It is the springtime, and your patient has been working outside in their garden for several hours and is now experiencing shortness of breath with wheezing. One could reasonably assume the cause of the current distress is an asthma attack due to prolonged allergen exposure.

M: Medications. Establish what medications your patient currently takes. As well as asking what the patient takes, you will need to know whether they take their medications when they should. This is called medication compliance. You will also need to establish if any of their medications have been recently prescribed, as a new medication may cause unfamiliar side effects for the patient. If you don’t know what a certain medication is, ask the patient what they take it for.

P: Pertinent medical history. Establish your patient’s medical history that could potentially relate to the problem at hand. For example, if your patient is currently experiencing chest pain, it is pertinent to ask about any cardiac or respiratory history. As well, if your patient is experiencing altered mental status, it is pertinent to ask about a history of diabetes, stroke, or behavioral issues. It would not, however, be pertinent to ask about any behavioral issues with a patient experiencing chest pain. It is also pertinent to ask about any recent hospital stays or surgeries.

L: Last oral intake. This refers to the last thing the patient ingested. This includes food, drink, drugs, alcohol, and prescription medications. It is always pertinent to ask when the patient last ate, and whether they have been keeping hydrated. This is especially important for patients experiencing a diabetic crisis. With patients who have recently ingested drugs or alcohol, it is important to ask what, when, and the amount of drugs or alcohol ingested.

E: Events leading up. Establish the conditions in which the patient was in when their current problem began. For example, before the patient began experiencing chest pain, were they exerting themselves? Before having a seizure, was the patient exposed to any bright, flashing lights? You are attempting to establish the potential causes of the patient’s current problem.

OPQRST

O: Onset. Ask your patient when their current symptoms began. What were the conditions surrounding the beginning of this issue? Did it come on suddenly or gradually?

P: Provocation / Palliation. Does anything make the problem worse? (Provocation.) Does anything help to alleviate symptoms of the problem? (Palliation.) These could refer to body positions, medications, activities, temperature therapy, etc. For example, some patients with respiratory difficulties may find it difficult to exert themselves (provocation) and may find leaning forward in a tripod position helps them to breathe more effectively (palliation.)

Q: Quality. Ask the patient to describe to you how their pain feels. Some frequently used descriptors include sharp, dull, stabbing, burning, crushing, throbbing, nauseating, shooting, twisting, and stretching. Remember to ask this as an open-ended question. Document how the patient describes their pain in quotation marks. For example, if your patient is experiencing chest pain, ask, “What does the pain in your chest feel like?” If your patient says, “It feels like something is crushing the center of my chest,” you would document the patient’s quality of pain as “feeling like something is crushing the center of [their] chest.”

R: Radiation. This refers to the localization or distribution of the patient’s pain. In the example above, your patient states that they have crushing pain in the center of their chest. It is pertinent to ask whether the pain stays localized to the center of their chest, or if it moves (radiates) to a different location. Remember that some conditions cause referred pain to another part of the body. This is when the pain is perceived in a location other than the site of the painful stimulus/origin. For example, the spleen is in the upper left side of the abdomen, next to the stomach and behind the left ribs. However, pain from a ruptured spleen can be felt in the left shoulder (Kehr’s sign.)  

S: Severity. Ask your patient to rate the pain on a scale of 1-10. A rating of 1 would be minimal pain that is hardly noticeable, whereas a 10 would be pain that is so severe the patient is unable to move; the worst pain they have ever felt in their life. This scale can also be applied to breathing difficulties. A rating of 1 would indicate mild breathing difficulty, whereas a 10 would indicate severe, life-threatening breathing difficulty. To assess a pediatric patient’s pain level, use the Wong-Baker Faces Pain Rating Scale.

T: Time. Establish a timeline of your patient’s current problem, beginning at the onset of their symptoms to when they called 911, then from when they called 911 to your arrival on scene. Determine if they called 911 at the start of their symptoms, or if they called 911 when their symptoms began getting progressively worse/did not improve after a reasonably expected amount of time. Ask your patient whether they have had or were hospitalized for this problem before, and how this current instance compares to the previous.

Clarifying questions: Clarifying questions are questions not listed in your OPQRST or SAMPLE that you feel could be beneficial for your patient care and documentation, or potentially add to your differential diagnosis.

*Remember to ask these questions in plain language and avoid using medical terminology. *

Assessment of body systems

To help further your differential diagnosis, it is imperative to continue your assessment through secondary exams. These can be accomplished by assessing and testing body systems. Consider testing multiple body systems, as many illnesses may have secondary problems that do not present themselves in your primary assessment.

Cardiac:

·         Asses your patient’s radial pulses. Does the pulse feel regularly regular, irregularly regular, irregularly irregular? Do the pulses feel the same in both arms?

·         Run a 12 lead EKG on your patient. At the BLS level, you will not be able to interpret the heart rhythm, but it will be helpful for the hospital to compare to their testing upon arrival.

·         Listen to lung sounds, as many cardiac issues relate to the pulmonary system as well.

Pulmonary:

·         Auscultate your patient’s lungs. Do you hear any adventitious breath sounds? In which lobes did you hear adventitious sounds?

·         Utilize capnography to assess your patient’s end-tidal carbon dioxide or ETCO2 (the amount of carbon dioxide exhaled with each respiration)

Endocrine:

·        Establish if the patient has any pre-existing endocrine disorders such as diabetes, Addison's disease, Cushing's disease, hyper/hypothyroidism, etc.

·         Take your patient's blood sugar

·        Ask the patient about any recent changes in mood, energy levels, appetite, thirst, weight gain/loss, and mental clarity

Integumentary:

·         Take your patient’s temperature. A tympanic thermometer is preferred in adult patients. An axillary temperature measurement will be the least accurate.

·         Asses your patient’s skin for urticaria (hives), unusual bruising, abnormal lumps or bumps, or injuries in different stages of healing.

Gastrointestinal:

·         Ask your patient if they have been experiencing nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, constipation, or unusual bowel movements.

·         In the case of diarrhea or vomiting, ask the patient to describe the color and consistency of the excrement or vomit.

·         Palpate all four quadrants of the abdomen separately. If your patient is experiencing pain in one abdominal quadrant, end your palpation at the affected quadrant.

Genitourinary:

·         Ask your patient about their urine output. With infants, ask the parent or guardian the number of wet diapers the infant has gone through since the start of the issue.

·         Ask your patient if they are experiencing any pain or burning when urinating.

·         Ask your patient if they have experienced any abnormal discharge.

·         Ask your patients if there is any possibility that they could be pregnant and when their last menstrual cycle was.

·         If the patient is pregnant, ask about any prenatal care, complications with the current or previous pregnancies, current trimester, and due date.

·         You will need to establish the number of times your patient has been pregnant before, whether the pregnancy was carried to term. The number of pregnancies is referred to gravidity.

·         You will need to establish the number of births of a fetus at >24 weeks, whether it was a live birth or stillborn. This is referred to as parity.

·         For example, a pregnant patient with three children would be documented as G4P3

Musculoskeletal:

·         Assess any affected body parts for DCAP-BTLS.

·         Assess the movement and sensation in the affected body parts.

Neurological

·         Assess your patient's mental status (LOC, AVPU, A&O)

·         Perform a stroke assessment (Cincinnati, VAN, BEFAST)

·        Check the patient's pupils for inappropriate constriction/dilation.

·         If any friends or family are present on scene, ask them how the patient's current mental status compares to their baseline mental status.

·         Note the patient's balance, gait, and coordination

·         Consider cranial nerve assessments (have the patient follow a pen with just their eyes, raise eyebrows, puff cheeks, etc)

Psychiatric:

·         First and foremost, ensure that your patient is non-violent or has been securely restrained prior to establishing patient contact.

·         Ask your patient whether they are seeing/hearing/feeling anything that others are not.

·         Ask your patients if they have any intention of hurting themselves or others.

Full body assessment (DCAP-BTLS)

In traumatic situations, a full body assessment should be performed to locate any secondary injuries. Each area of the body should be individually assessed as such for for Deformities, Contusions, Abrasions, Punctures/Penetrations, Burns, Tenderness, Lacerations, and Swelling (DCAP-BTLS)

Head

Scalp: Examine for any bleeding or DCAP-BTLS by palpating the skull

Ears: Look inside the ear for any blood or CSF, behind the ears for     Battle’s signs, palpate the mastoid process

Eyes: Palpate the orbital bones, look for raccoon eyes, determine     pupil size and reaction with pen light

Facial areas: Palpate the mandible and maxilla

Oral: Look inside the mouth for any fluids or foreign objects

Nasal: Palpate the bridge of the nose and look inside for any fluid     or foreign objects

Neck

Posterior: Palpate cervical spine for step-off

Anterior: Look for tracheal deviation 

Lateral: Look for jugular vein distention 

*Make sure to palpate the cervical spine prior to applying a c-collar *

Chest

Inspect: Look for flail chest, sucking chest wounds, unequal respirations,  etc.

Palpate: Clavicles, shoulders, sternum, ribs 

Auscultate: Lung sounds

Abdomen

Palpate: All four quadrants separately using your flat palm in a rolling motion

Inspect: Do you note any pulsating masses/rebound tenderness/swelling

Pelvis

Palpate: Push inwards then downwards, noting any instability *If     you feel any instability when you push inwards, DO NOT PUSH DOWN*

Genitalia

Verbalize: Visualize the injury. When possible, try to only touch sensitive areas with the back of your hands.

Extremities

Palpate: Palpate the entire extremity from most proximal joints downwards. Use a cup-like motion with your hands to feel both the anterior and posterior sides.

Pulse: Radial/dorsalis pedis/posterior tibial

Motion: Test your patient’s ability to squeeze, push, pull, or wiggle fingers/toes

Sensation: Can the patient feel and differentiate between which hand/foot is being touched

Posterior

Palpate: The posterior spine looking for step-off, instabilities, or     deformities

*Make     sure to palpate the spine prior to rolling a patient onto a backboard*

Treatments

 Document any treatments or therapies used during your patient care. Examples include medications, repositioning, temperature therapy, supplemental oxygenation, manual ventilations, or anything else you did to improve your patient’s condition and what effect your therapies had.

Radio report: 

Prior to your arrival, you will need to perform a radio report to the receiving hospital. This report should contain the only following information and be limited to approximately 30-45 seconds.

·         Your unit number and level of care (ALS or BLS)

·         Your patient’s age and gender

·         Chief complaint / mechanism of injury

·         Pertinent findings

·         Mental status and vital signs

·         Treatments performed and patient responses

·         Your ETA

[mimiplaysgames]

Terraqua Week Day 6 (Free Day)

Summary: Terra and Aqua are getting married—and Ven is the Bridezilla. || Word Count: 9,058

Read on AO3

A/N: @terraquaweek​ I could have never written this without my dear friend @localcryptideli​. We talked about this wedding years ago, and I promised to write it. It’s here, three years later, blending their headcanons with mine and I couldn’t be more proud of it. <3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

the threads that tie hearts together

Terra never once considered in his entire life that his wedding preparations would include the perk of mice squeaking in his ear—but he here is, in the tailor’s studio, getting re-fitted for his tuxedo, with Princess Cinderella’s team of seamstress mice on his shoulders, measuring the length of his arms. His muscles were too big for the previous suit. 

Ven refuses to hire a proper tailor, and instead rents out the parlor so the mice could do their work in private.

Lea sits on a nearby bench by the shoe shelves, the top button of his shirt open, jabbing at his Gummiphone. He’s quite popular today, pinged every two minutes. Isa and Roxas share a mirror, trying to get the mechanics of their bow ties right. 

Terra is getting married. 

The thought. Married. Soon. Yes. Damn. He can’t cry right now.

Terra stands in front of a mirror and bends his elbows to see how the fabric moves. The mice are tiny, three of them in skirts. They’ve developed an efficient obstacle course of threads all down his entire body, a network so the mice on the floor can deliver them supplies—spools, sewing needles, thumbtacks, measuring tape—in a jiffy. 

Lea groans, squeezing his Gummiphone. “This twerp is going to turn me into a serial killer.” He yawns, possibly for the fortieth time.

“Not an ill-fitting job, all things considered,” Isa says from across the room.

“I do appreciate your sarcasm.”

“Who’s bothering you?” Terra asks, lifting his collar so the mouse on his left could thread through it with a sewing needle.

Lea snorts, slaps his knee and leans forward. “Did you not know your buddy is a monster?”

“Ven?”

“Oh, he’s a joy.” Lea holds his Gummiphone up as if he’s about to make a speech. “Come help me pick out Aqua’s flowers. Now. If you could.” He glances at Terra, then back at the phone. “He writes that in all-caps.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean to be so pushy.”

“The other day, he called me to model the bride’s dress because Miss Aqua couldn’t be bothered to come to the fitting herself.”

“Master Aqua was away on a mission,” Isa explains.

“Isa took photos of me in it—” Lea scrolls through his phone, but stops. “Oh, I can’t show you before...” He clicks his tongue. “It’s very nice. Very bridal.”

Terra is sure that’s true, but the image of Ven hanging his head so much on someone else’s wedding is worrisome. Last night, he fell asleep at dinner. “I think Ven is taking on too much stress.”

“Lea,” Roxas says, snorting a chuckle and giving up on his bow tie, “you should show him the texts.” 

“Gladly.” Lea stands to shove the Gummiphone into Terra’s face. Out of the history, a couple of messages stand out.

Ventus

I got 500 cake flavors come taste them with me

Ventus

Which cologne do you think terra should wear

COME SMELL 

i need a second opinion

Ventus

Do you have aqua’s flowers yet?

remember 

we want orange roses and bluestars

Ventus

Aqua isnt here im freaking out

Youre closest to her body type

HELP

After all that, Terra feels as though he’s being watched by several microscopic eyes. One of the mice squeaks with urgency, and he straightens one of his arms. “I don’t know what to say... Why doesn’t he talk to me directly?”

Lea purses his lips as though this is a secret not worth sharing. Roxas is the one to step forward, a knowing grimace plastered on his face.

“He told me that he doesn’t want to bother you with anything.”

That doesn’t sound entirely false but not true either.

“That’s ridiculous.” Terra tests the bend of the elbow to fiddle with his bow tie. It’s already done but something about it doesn’t sit right. “He could come to me for anything,” he says with a low voice, wondering if there’s something he’s missing. Terra has also been a mess. He’s getting married. Holy stars. 

Isa huffs out of frustration, turning away from the mirror, his bow tie undone. He studies Terra’s suit. “I don’t like it.”

His straightforwardness is well appreciated. Aqua would probably smirk at the sight of it and stare at his neck the entire ceremony. “I don’t either,” Terra says.

“Smart man.” Isa smirks, and tugs Terra’s bow tie to undo it. “Let’s change it.”

Lea snorts. “You might want to ask permission from he-who-shall-be-slapped.”

“It’s my wedding,” Terra says.

“So you think.”

He-who-may-be-slapped enters the tailor’s parlor through the front entrance, announced by the bell of the ring. He’s perfectly dressed in his ringbearer’s/best man’s/maid of honor’s suit, vest fitted, bow tie sublime, sleeves coiffed. He sees what Isa is doing. He gapes.

“Hey guys,” Ven asks with a frustratingly shaky voice. “What are we doing?”

“They are unbecoming,” Isa answers, wrapping a traditional tie around Terra’s neck.

“Oh.” 

Sometimes, speaking to Isa is like getting clocked in the stomach. By the looks of Lea’s expression, chewing on the edge of his Gummiphone, it’s well deserved.

“Okay,” Ven says, with a tight smile. He takes the tie from Isa’s hands. “Do they match?”

“A hello would be less rude,” Terra says. “Hi, Ven. Can we talk?”

Ven glances up. “Later. There’s lots to do.”

Lea inhales sharply. “Hey, Ven. Here’s an idea. Did you know you could tame cicadas to sing in harmony on command?”

Ven whips his head around. “You can?”

Isa brings a hand up to hide a smirk and Lea passes him a subtle wink.

“Picture it.” Lea opens his arms. “From nine until eleven at night, they gather in the bushes. They mutter, a light dusting of atmosphere on a peaceful summer night.”

Ven’s eyes grow wide with obsession. 

Roxas comes near. “You can also make them glow.”

“Like stars in the bushes,” Ven whispers to himself.

“Come on, guys,” Terra says, unimpressed. “Leave him alone. We’ve got better things to do.”

Ven snaps himself out of it, but not before pulling out a notepad and writing notes. He eyes Terra over, nudging him to open his arms and pinching the sides of the suit. Ven draws them in by the measure of a finger and pulls pins out of his pocket, like he’s been expecting to use them, and marks their places. “Jaq Jaq,” he calls, “where’s Suzy? We need to make sure these ties look right. Oh, and we need two extras—we have to ship some to Riku and Sora.”

Some mouse squeaks in reply.

“I can help her carry things.” Ven gives a flash of a smile and then hurries off.

Out of earshot, Lea gives Terra a look. “Anyone able to talk to mice is a crazy person in my book.”

Terra glares back and quotes, “‘You could tame cicadas to sing on command?’”

“He needs something to obsess over. How else am I going to get peace?”

“This is going to bite you in the ass,” Roxas says, wrapping his new tie over the neck and having a much easier time.

“Ventus may very well task you with hunting and gathering the cicadas,” Isa says, a tie already in place, immaculate. 

Lea groans and Terra feels it’s well deserved. 

Well deserved… the suit may be. The future wife, maybe not. The suit is a glove for every finger with no excess. It makes him a good-looking groom, a nice addition to the closet for any special occasion. The bride is beautiful, no matter what she wears. She is loyal, patient, strong, intelligent, loving, funny when she’s stern, too good for him, a divine gift he didn’t earn and he still can’t understand how she said yes.

“I hope you’re laughing at the face of my misery,” Lea says.

Terra knows that’s sarcasm. Weddings are headaches, emotions are terrifying and Terra needs Aqua like a sip of medicinal tea to calm down.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The others squeal when they walk into Le Grand Bistro. It’s sunset, the city lights already ignited and giving it the glow of evening fairies welcoming the moon. They’ve just discussed dresses—Xion requests a pantsuit instead, which looks stellar—and they can choose their own styles so long as they all wear the color of night. Simple, elegant. That’s the kind of effect Aqua prefers. Thank goodness they’re almost done. Aqua couldn’t handle more hands in her hair and she rejected the flower crown that would have come down on one side to compensate for the lack of length. 

She fiddles with the ring—a thin, intricate design weaved around a small, blue stone—as a waiter escorts them to the kitchen. On days when she doesn’t have missions, she wears it.

Aqua is getting married. Some part of her wonders about the surreality of it, like it’s a dream or a picture she created in her mind when she was a child, at the altar with a faceless person next to her. Sometimes, it feels like she is already married. Terra has always been with her. Every day in class. Every day strolling through the woods. Every day sparring, sharing meals, bickering and laughing. Her best friend, her confidant, her rock.

There is something about nearly dying that challenges perspective. When they both thought they’d never see each other again, it made them realize there’s more to it and there’s been more to it for years. The emotional intimacy that strengthened after the fact. The physicality of it, when he takes her to bed. They argue differently, they laugh the same. Terra has always been with her, so what is the difference between being with him and being married to him? A part of her is eager to find out. The other is already at peace, a kind of joy Aqua has always wanted.

Ven is in the kitchen, talking with Remy (responding to Remy, who is naturally unintelligible). Plates of cake pieces sprawl out on the table, eliciting oohs and aahs from the others, all patient like they’re waiting for Aqua’s permission to take a small bite.

Aqua reads through the description of flavors—strawberry, fudge, angel food cake with blueberries, red velvet, even coffee. “The one we requested isn’t here.”

“You mean…” Ven pulls out his notepad and looks through his notes. Remy climbs onto Ven’s head, squeaking and pointing to a bowl of flour and eggs, unmixed. “Dark chocolate and rum?”

“That would be correct.”

“A spicy cake? Are you insane?” At his shock and at Aqua’s denial, Kairi helps herself to a spoonful of vanilla. “This is a wedding, not a club!”

“My wedding, Ven.” Aqua isn’t annoyed, but amused. Ven has such strong opinions about for some reason. 

“Try this one.” He holds up a plate of a decorated piece that honestly looks delicious. “Triple chocolate, with the rarest berries found in the woods, matured at thirty-five degrees Celsius for a week.” 

“Burnt cake?” Kairi asks with a smirk.

“Not the cake, the berries.” 

“Oh,” Xion gasps, with need in her eyes. It takes a nod from Aqua to grab a fork and have at it. She approaches each piece with so much excitement— Aqua wonders if there are flavors here she’s never tried before in her short life. 

“What will the final cake look like?” Naminé asks, the only one not to dive forward. She’s so gentle, so serene. When they were trying out dresses, everyone was saying what a beautiful bride she’ll be one day if she chooses. 

“Perfect,” Ven says, like it’s the most obvious thing. “It has to be perfect so it will look beautiful. Painted like a night sky, with stars everywhere. You got that, Remy?”

Remy glares at Ven.

“I want,” Aqua starts, and when Ven frowns, she smirks. Sometimes, for the sake of maintaining control, she has to play dirty. “Rosewater and cardamom.” 

Ven sticks his tongue out in disgust.

“Terra needs something to enjoy,” Aqua insists. “These are all too sweet for him.”

“Terra is the bane of my existence.”

“By the way, I don’t know if I want King Mickey and Queen Minnie to officiate.”

“You are way more difficult to deal with.”

Aqua and Ven have a staring contest as the others talk about their favorite flavors. Ven, a glare, a challenge to outwit her. Aqua, a calm knowing that she’s going to win. Ven relents.

“Fine,” he stresses. “Remy, change of plans. We’ll need some damage control. Let’s add some”—he writes into his notepad—“fruit pastries, sweet cheese with chocolate—”

“Triple chocolate,” Kairi adds.

“Custard and kiwi,” Xion says.

“All good choices.” Ven writes them down.

“Sea salt ice cream?” Naminé says, lifting a shoulder. “Everyone else eats them, I hope to try some.”

“Ven.” Kairi slams a hand on the table. “You need to add marshmallows covered in hazelnut and chocolate.”

“We need all the chocolate,” Ven agrees. “Call it revenge on this nasty cake.”

Kairi cackles, but it’s nothing malicious. They’re young and excited about the wedding, their suggestions a way of helping. Aqua takes it all in stride. The small details don’t matter, only the intent, and letting friends have fun deciding makes the entire process easier. What’s bothering her is Ven. He’s exhausted from taking it all too seriously. Aqua assumes the best intentions, but she doesn’t get it.

“You know what would be really cute?” Xion says. “Little petit fours shaped in your symbols.”

Ven blinks. “What symbols?”

“Oh, the Keyblade Master symbols.” Naminé claps her hands. “That would be so lovely.”

“In different colors,” Xion says.

“Each a different flavor,” Naminé adds. “Maybe the same colors as your Wayfinders?”

“You two are geniuses.” Ven taps his notepad. “Remy, we gotta get to work.”

Remy stomps a paw and squeaks vigorously.

“No worries. You’ll get paid.” Though it seems that’s the last thing on Remy’s mind.

“Ven,” Aqua says softly, pulling him aside as the others brainstorm ideas. “I don’t think we can afford all this.”

“Sure you can,” he says too confidently, though she and Terra were the ones to save up their munny. “Don’t worry,” he stresses when she’s not convinced, giving her a squeeze on the arm. “You asked me to bookkeep your finances” 

“Reminder that I did not ask you to take full responsibility. Remy can’t do all of this alone, he’s going to need you.”

“I’ve got plenty of time, and we’ve got plenty of budget.”

Aqua does not know how that is possible. After the dresses, the refitting of Terra’s tux, the decorations… sure, since they’re using the ballroom in the Land of Departure, they saved on not having to rent out a venue, but the original plan was to have a small, intimate wedding in the woods, something private with just the three of them, minimal decorations necessary, all plucked from nature. 

All of this is out of their price range.

Ven goes back to the table, back to the stovetop and oven where he follows Remy’s instructions and mixes the flour in the bowl with some milk. He doesn’t assuage her at all, like he knows something she doesn’t.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Home should be a solace but not when it’s the wedding rehearsal. 

Ven has ushered in movers from different worlds to carry in artifacts, all decorations, all star-themed. Terra has yet to see the ballroom, but the amount of people rushing through the hallways makes him nervous. 

Ever since Terra called Riku in the dead of night (in a panic, needing someone to talk to, alone in the kitchen with a cracked mug of tea), blabbing about tripping on the way to the altar, or cutting the cake clean through the table, or stepping on linen and ripping the curtains, or dropping his plate of food, or looking like an idiot on the dance floor, or worse—forgetting his vows—he hasn’t lived a moment of peace. Sora won’t let him. 

Terra finds it hard to breathe. What if he chokes on his vows and accidentally offends everyone?

He stays far away from the workers—it’s for the best. No one needs a huge bull stampeding in a china shop, destroying everything.

Lea crosses the hallway on his sixth trip and enters one of two entrances to the ballroom, vases of flowers in his hands. Terra peeks. From the looks of it, Ven did a fantastic job. 

The ballroom, once gold, now looks like the set of night. The ceiling is covered in blue with twinkling lights. The table linens are also dark, with napkins and silverware sets a solid gold. Glass windows that take up one entire side to the ballroom are bare of curtains—the wedding is planned for after sunset so they’d be declaring their vows under the stars. Two navy blue carpets come in through both entrances of the ballroom, meeting in the middle and then straight to the altar at the far end. The point is for him and Aqua to enter together, like equals. With her in a bridal dress, she’ll look like a light in the darkness.

Through the doorway, Terra can see Riku and Sora, the latter making motions with his arms as if he’s flapping like a bird. Terra lets the door close so they don’t notice him. 

There are fears he’s never voiced.

What if she realizes she doesn’t want to get married to him after all? At the altar no less?

Oh stars, what if he makes a terrible husband? 

What if he neglects her?

What if, years down the road, she realizes after a slowly oncoming epiphany that she isn’t happy and regrets it?

Tonight is the party, tomorrow is the wedding, and Terra still has no vows. He pinches his nose hard enough to distract him from crying. He’s already cried five times in the arc of three hours.

Footsteps—light, brisque, confident, hers—approach him, and Terra embraces her in his arms, taking her in with a needy kiss. She smells like home, she lets him breathe again. 

“You look like you’re about to fall apart,” she says, stroking a thumb on his cheek.

“Not if you’re my glue.”

She snorts, smacking him on the bicep. “What did I say about the puns?”

“Shower you with them.”

He kisses her before she can roll her eyes—

—and gets interrupted the moment Ven peeks out of one door. 

“What’s with the hold-up?” he says.

Terra breaks from the kiss, casually noticing how Aqua is patting his shoulder, as if to warn him. “What’s with your attitude?”

Ven pouts like he’s about to choke and slaps the notepad to his forehead. “No one listens to me. I said baby blue and champagne on the napkins, all shaped to form the constellation of Juno… and they gave me yellow. I am gonna complain so much.”

“There are worse things?” Terra says and Aqua shakes his shoulder as another warning. 

Ven snaps his eyes open. “Get into position, we’re starting.”

Aqua stands behind one door and Terra goes to the other, waiting for the cue to enter. On the other side, Ven is speaking out loud, organizing people and where they should stand. Grooms and bridesmaids will enter the altar from behind and gather together, leaving the carpet only for the star couple (no pun intended). He interrupts himself, raising his voice about vases that match too much and Terra can imagine him pointing across the room.

“I have to tell you something,” Aqua loudly whispers from the other side of the hall. 

Terra runs to her and wraps an arm around her waist. Touching her is a panacea. Despite knowing there is still a possibility she’ll rethink this entire relationship, it seems unreal, like a nightmare.

“It’s about Ven,” she continues, keeping her voice low even though they’re the only ones in the hall.

“Lea threatened to slap him.”

She frowns.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Don’t you think it’s too expensive?”

“I don’t know. Ven doesn’t tell me how much anything costs.”

“It’s way more than we have saved up.”

Terra gapes. “Then how—?”

Aqua stammers, fiddling with her fingers. “I looked into his books.”

Terra melts into a breath-heavy laugh, careful to keep his voice out of it. “Reading people’s diaries? Aqua, I thought I knew you better.”

She blushes. “I didn’t mean to, but I was worried.” Now Terra is worried. Her expression is too serious. “Ven has been doing side-missions and hustles for months just to earn enough to hire the best chefs and tailors, to buy linens and all these flowers and carpets—” 

“He wouldn’t.”

“He did.”

“Why?” 

“I think it’s because he wants us to be happy.”

“We are.” Terra doesn’t appreciate how he doesn’t sound confident, scared he’s assuming too much on her behalf. “How could he just…”

“We were stuck in darkness for so long and he couldn’t help us.”

“But that’s not his fault.”

“He feels he is the weakest and wants to compensate.” Aqua grimaces and she blinks back tears. 

“I feel so guilty.”

“I feel worse.”

“Why?”

Aqua bites her lip. “I’m still attached to the idea of a small, intimate ceremony in the woods. Just the three of us. Does that make me a horrible person?”

“No. Our wedding has become a spectacle. Maybe pointing that out makes me terrible, too.”

She groans. “I found a book. I left it in your room. It’s very last minute, but there are some ancient rituals in there that I found so beautiful… the exchanging of rings is beautiful, too, but modern and there are some lost traditions from our Keyblade history that I’d love to do instead... if you could take a look?” 

The way she smiles, stars. Ancient, modern, he’d do anything for her. “Sure. I’ll read it tonight.”

Aqua winces. “He’ll be so angry with us.”

Terra squeezes her hand. “He wants us to be happy. Think about that.”

One of the doors burst open, and Lea sticks his head out. “Kindly stop being an ass and don’t keep your guests waiting anymore?”

They start: Terra at one entrance, Aqua on the other, entering the ballroom at the same time, where guests will watch them approach one another, like the shadow of the moon to a star. They meet at the point where their lanes merge into one. 

Terra offers his arm—

“Nonono,” Ven warns, running up to them. “You can’t meet her like this. You must bow at a forty-degree angle.” Ven scans the room frantically. “Here, I have a ruler.”

After that hiccup, Aqua finally takes Terra’s arm, walking down the single aisle, where guests can ogle at them. Their groomsmen and bridesmaids take pictures with their Gummiphones for their arrival at a wall of flowers. 

Sora has his hands behind his head and snickers when they reach the end. “I made sure the carpet is ironed out so she doesn’t fall with you.”

“I’m going to kick you in the shins,” Terra says.

He snorts and wipes his nose. “I’ll kick you back.”

At the altar, Ven is too excited to stop rambling. “We have to make sure that you arrive here, at this spot, at exactly nine-thirty so we can finish the vows at ten because...” He frames the windows with his hands. “We’ve got a perfect spot for star sighting so we need to be on time.”

“Do you mean, right after the wedding ceremony?” Aqua asks. 

“Before the reception, yup. We’re walking out to the balcony, we’ll watch the meteor shower where a new world will be born, then we’ll come back in for supper and dancing.” When he notices their stupefied faces, he continues, “I spent three weeks finding the right angulations so you can witness a unique astronomical event, and we’ve got a miracle of a spot right here so we can’t be late.”

“It’s a wonderful thought, Ven,” Aqua says, her voice shaky.

“Okay, now you get into position and face each other.” He points and they follow. “Next, Mickey and Minnie will talk some stuff, you know, all official, and then you say your vows.”

Terra freezes up. “Our vows.”

“Yeah. That’s what I said. You ready?”

Terra hesitates and Aqua speaks for him. “We’re keeping those a secret until tomorrow.”

Ven pauses, then shrugs. “Fair enough.”

Aqua doesn’t let Terra have another thought, leaning forward to kiss him in front of everyone (aahs and awws elicited), and ending the rehearsal.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“How do you get your skin so clear?” Kairi asks, though the warm glow of the fire makes for spectacular lighting. 

They’re camping in the woods near the waterfall, equipped with warm blankets and pillows, a bowl of cookies, and toasted marshmallows on sticks; Aqua’s vision of a bachelorette party. No gifts necessary.

“Mountain spring water does wonders for you,” Aqua says.

“I’ve read in a magazine,” Xion says, crawling out of her sleeping bag, “that some people like to put mud on their faces to get clean skin.”

“Why?” Naminé asks, chewing on a marshmallow.

“Something about the properties. Lots of good minerals.” She walks over to the creek, digging her hands into the dirt and smashing it into her face against the shocks and cries of the other girls. “If mountain water is good for you, then that must mean this mud is magical.” 

“Is that true?” Kairi says, though she’s asking no one. She hurries over and joins in on the mud-mashing, running fingers over Xion’s face in places she’s missed.

With globs of mud in their hands, they bring over the excess to the camp. 

Xion offers it to Aqua. “For beautiful skin on your special day?”

“It’s our job to pamper,” Kairi says with her hands out so that Naminé can scoop up the mud on her own. 

Aqua tries not to chuckle too loudly. It’s adorable. “Okay,” she says, and Xion gets to work, massaging it into her skin. It smells unpleasant, earthy and mukky. She closes her eyes and tries to relax regardless.

“I think we’re supposed to keep it on our faces for at least a half hour,” Xion says, rubbing more on Aqua’s nose. 

“This will make us prettier?” Naminé asks.

“Cleaner,” Kairi says. 

Naminé blinks, already covered in the mud and hesitating to put on more. “But we look dirty,” she says quietly.

“Can I request something, Miss Aqua?” Xion says, patting her fingers onto Aqua’s forehead.

“Certainly.”

“Can you tell us the story of how Terra proposed?”

Kairi jumps and squeals, and Naminé claps her hands, both of them chattering please, please, we’re dying to know.

“We’re around a fire,” Kairi says, as if that’s a convincing argument. “We’re supposed to tell stories.” 

“I feel bad for asking,” Naminé says. “You’re very private, and I don’t want to intrude…”

Aqua reads her face. “But you’re curious.”

Naminé pouts. Xion’s eyes go wide, and Kairi nods excitedly. Everyone is guilty as charged.

“It’s a simple story, I guess,” Aqua says, crossing her legs and watching the fire. It’s not often that she talks so openly about the details of her relationship. The two of them together is something people know, but never knowing where they come from and why, except for Ven—even then, there’s so much he never pries to. Watching their reactions is a little overwhelming. She rubs the stone on her ring. “Terra made the engagement ring with his own hands, but he took months to propose.”

“I remember that,” Xion says, sitting on her chair and smiling. “It annoyed Lea so much that he offered to set you both up just to get it over with.”

Aqua laughs. “I’m grateful we had it to ourselves.”

“Was it romantic?” Kairi asks.

“Not at all. I… knew he was up to something. I know him.” She lifts a shoulder. “He was burning breakfast too often, he couldn’t look me directly in the eye, and he left on his own to do more missions than usual. I took that as though he had done something wrong. The last time he was that clumsy and avoidant, it was because he accidentally cast Firaga in the library and was trying to hide it. Or when he broke the oven. Or when he offered to do my laundry but didn’t know how to treat my fabric and ruined my clothes.”

“He sounds like a clumsy oaf,” Kairi says.

That makes Aqua smile. She loves that oaf. “He is. The general rule of thumb is that a clumsy, avoidant Terra is usually hiding something.”

“So how did the proposal happen?” Naminé asks.

“I cornered him—”

Kairi snorts.

“—and he blurted it out.”

They giggle, Kairi acting out how that may have looked and Naminé holding her hands over her heart in a show of genuine affection. 

Aqua smiles to herself, a finger to her lips. It might be her favorite memory, her standing her ground and demanding to know what was going on. 

Terra, looking all around the terrace except for her face, guilty, guilty, guilty, pulling a box out of his pocket and stammering for a cohesive sentence. Well, I don’t know what to say, he had said, like a child getting grounded. I-I’m sorry. I’m dumb, I’m a big lump of a human being. He paused, his cheeks rounding up like he was about to vomit. Will…will you marry me, anyway?

It felt like racing in a train and pulling all the stops, crashing. He got red in the face, tears welling in his eyes and she realized he took her silence as rejection. Aqua had to hold his forearms, and all she could utter was a soft, I genuinely thought you burned down a building.

Terra’s eyes went wide. Do you mean you’re not mad?

Of course not. Why would I be?

So… He licked his lips, reaching for her but not touching her, forgetting that he had the box with the ring inside. What do you say? I mean, you don’t have to give me an answer straight away. I mean, I just thought you would… you know… because… He sighed. Yeah.

Aqua finally laughed, and kissed him on the cheek. Of course I will marry you, you beautiful dork.

The laughter quiets around the fire. They’re waiting for Aqua to continue her story.

“Then he drops the ring.”

They howl, melting into a blissful exchange of cheers and gossip, a vibrant hearth brighter than the one keeping them warm. 

“I had hoped to propose first, actually,” Aqua continues. She shrugs. “The end.”

“That was beautiful,” Naminé says, wiping her eyes.

“If Sora hears about this, he’ll never leave Terra alone,” Kairi says, grinning something mischievous. 

“I don’t know what love is supposed to look like,” Xion says thoughtfully, gazing at the sky. “But it sounds sweet.”

In Aqua’s opinion, the proposal was perfect, him scattered on the ground frantically searching for the ring, her on her knees helping him. How he slipped it on her finger, how they kissed for an hour in the dirt, unaware that they were dusty, unaware that anyone else existed in the world. 

Aqua nods, mostly to herself. It aches to be away from Terra tonight but it burns her insides to see him tomorrow and finally do this. Aqua wants to sleep and get this night over with but she doesn’t want to sleep so she could see the sunrise, knowing he’d be up early watching the same thing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bachelor parties aren’t fun.

Sora is whooping about a cannonball, the water splashing when he makes contact. Ven and Roxas race to the lake, testing who will be the first to dive, the first to swim across and come back. Considering the expanse of the surface area, they’ll be gone for a while and the barbecue will get cold, but maybe it’s for the best. It’s not the right time to talk to Ven right now, not when all of them have a moment of fun (except for Terra, the only one here thinking about tomorrow). Lea and Isa prefer to relax, sipping drinks on their chairs by the lanterns erected onto the sand, speaking quietly about memories, about chores, about home and what ifs. 

Terra sits by himself, the thin booklet Aqua gave him on his lap, tucked under layers of parchment. It’s titled The Way, no author. She was right: old Keyblade rituals are interesting, almost possessive, their focus on the literal binding of hearts. They’re from the Age of Fairytales, and Terra realizes as he reads through it that ancient Keyblade wielders were for some reason obsessed with the loss of memory and the prevention of it. The rituals sound painful, too—maybe Aqua has developed a mild taste of macabre from her time in the Realm of Darkness. 

All Terra has left to do are his vows. His stupid, dorky-sounding vows. He should have accepted the simple, “I do.” He shouldn’t have waited until the last minute.

He’s tried dramatic.

You are my other half, my heart, my breath of life, my sky, my angel, can we keep our souls together? 

He’s tried poetic.

The mountain will thirst if not for the water— 

He’s tried being honest.

I don’t know why you love me, but I’ll do my best to make it up to you.

All dumb.

Terra groans into his hands, eyes wide in existential blunder. 

“Keep doing that,” Riku says, setting a chair next to him and sitting down, “and you won’t be able to blink again.”

“I’m not finished.”

“But if you don’t sleep, then you’re more likely to have accidents.”

Terra gapes and almost whacks Riku on the side of the head from the sight of his constricted smirk. “You’re so mean. I called you one time.”

“In a huge panic talking about causing mass destruction of a wedding the worlds have never seen.” Riku shrugs nonchalantly. That’s his state of being—too cool for anything, too sensitive for everything. It’s refreshing. “It was the funniest phone conversation I’ve ever had.”

“I’ll never call you again.”

“Not in the middle of the night, please no.” Riku bites a forkful of steak. “Is it cliché to tell you to speak from the heart?”

“This entire conversation is cliché, but here I am, living it out.” Terra stares at his messy pages, where he pressed the pen so hard that it left ink blots.

“You could do the very committal thing and tell her you love her fifty times.”

“All the guests would leave by the time I reach twenty-five.”

“More like fifteen.”

“Ten.”

“Disaster.”

Terra grimaces, not entirely comforted, but not entirely anxious anymore, either. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“It is a big deal, I’ll give you that,” Riku says, more serious. “I don’t have any advice.”

“None of it makes sense. Be honest, but not too honest. Be loving, but don’t make it cheesy. Express yourself, but hold back on certain things. Do make it personal. Don’t expose personal details. How am I supposed to know how to do it right?” 

It would be easier if there are no witnesses. If it’s just Ven, if Aqua is the only person he’s talking to, if he could simply say, You’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember. I know I’ve fucked up. For as long as I live, I’ll never do that again. I will never take your forgiveness for granted.

And if she doesn’t want to be with him anymore, there’d be nothing he could say to make her stay.

“I think if Aqua was the kind of person who expected you to do it right,” Riku says, looking out to the lake where Ven and Roxas are swimming back to their shore, “you wouldn’t be marrying her.”

Terra bends the pages, exposing the cover of the thin, leather bound booklet. There are no vows he could use in there, except for the officiator declaring their hearts intertwined. “Thank you,” he mumbles.

“Sorry I can’t be of more help.” 

Riku pats him on the shoulder and leaves him alone to take a walk, Sora begging him to enter the water. Terra flips to a page where he’s repeated I love you, I love you all over, each in different calligraphy, like doodling, like losing his mind and procrastinating the night away, hoping that any moment, inspiration would drop bricks on him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It’s time.

The strangest part of the day is waiting it out in her bedroom until it’s her turn to show herself. Over the years, her bedroom has been a reflection of her personality. The cleanliness, the artifacts from her home world long ago, the size of the bed, the furniture—they all stayed the same. What’s come and gone were the paint colors, the bedsheets, the art on the wall, the smaller vanity mirror. Her bedroom is her old life, and she sits in front of the mirror in her bride’s dress, about to start a new one. For now, they both collide, as though her childhood doesn’t know her.

The cape dress is simple, plain white with the neck scooped across the collarbone. The sleeves slit at the shoulders, draping over to the floor with the rest of the train. Aqua couldn’t have asked for something better. She completes the look with the ring, a jeweled hair pin on one side, and an armored choker. Makeup is minimal. 

Aqua is surprisingly calm and the sun is going down. 

Her Gummiphone buzzes with a text message.

Terra

Let’s do it

Aqua sighs, not texting back immediately.

Aqua

I don’t want to break Ven’s heart

Terra

I’ll talk to him

We can both get what we want

I already stole some flowers from the wall

Don’t think he notices

She chuckles, moving a hair strand behind her ear. She hasn’t noticed that her stomach has been a knot, from excitement, from nerves, from anticipation. The sun takes so long to set. Terra is the warmth of a tight blanket.

Aqua

Will this label me as a runaway bride?

Terra takes a long time to answer, giving her the impression that he must have been distracted and forgot to reply. 

It buzzes.

Terra

The shame

Aqua

What will they think when they find out the groom seduced her to it

Terra

The scandal 

when they hear how she met him secretly at the creek 

an hour before the ceremony

It sounds like an action plan. Aqua picks up her bouquet of orange roses and bluestars from her vanity table, heading out the door.

Aqua

I want Ven there

Terra

Definitely

I love you

Aqua

I love you too

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Terra finds Ven in the dining room, taking inventory of an indulgement of sweets and a feast of meats, fritters, and rice. The wedding cake is as tall as his body, a dark blue with smacks of gold glitter in the shapes of galaxies, large stars framing each layer, and topped with two halos. Ven is mostly dressed in his vest and tie, the suit missing. By comparison, Terra is overdressed, a groom ready for his encore.

Ven sighs when he sneaks a cookie the shape of the Keyblade Master symbol into his mouth, as though Terra’s presence reminds him of disappointment. 

“I couldn’t tame the cicadas,” he says morosely, like he’s apologizing, and for a moment Terra second-guesses what he’s about to do. Ven eyes the white rope curled around Terra’s shoulder. “What’s that for?”

“This may either cheer you up or piss you off,” Terra says, dropping The Way on the counter.

“I don’t like how you said that.” As Ven flips through pages, he frowns, chewing on the side of his lip. “Are you... not happy with the wedding preparations?”

Terra inhales, caught off guard. “Of course I am. Happy, I mean. It’s… huge. It’s a giant ordeal.”

“And you don’t like that,” Ven says quietly, stroking one of the pages with his thumb.

“I think there are things we’ve always wanted to have privately.” Terra sits on a stool, but Ven won’t look him in the eye. “And we want you to be there. We can do it now. We’ll be back in time for our guests.”

The booklet shakes in his hands. “I messed up.”

“From my point of view, I’ll be eating very well tonight. There’s nothing to compensate for.”

Ven closes the book. “I just wanted to do a good job.”

“If you allow Lea to slap you, he’ll forgive you.” Terra smiles, but Ven doesn’t join him. “We’re still doing your grand ceremony—that, we could never pull off on our own. But we also want something tiny and ours, and we won’t do this without you.” Terra takes Ven’s hand and squeezes it, before glancing at the cake. “I hope it’s delicious.”

“It’s disgusting so you’ll definitely like it.”

“See, I can always count on you.” Terra stands up. “Now come on. You wouldn’t want us to be late for the bride.”

Terra takes him to the creek, not far from where Aqua hosted her bachelorette camp, where the sound of rushing water is gentle and the creek splits into two directions, one that would drip off the side of a cliff and one that would join a massive river downstream. The trees huddle close in the clearing, a soft shadow from the fierceness of the setting sun, like a pocket of protective magic in the middle of the forest. 

Ven gasps. “You stole my flowers.”

“Please, you didn’t even notice.” Terra had built an easy wooden arbor before the crack of dawn that morning, an arch weaved with orange and blue flowers, spotted every so often with green lilies. He showered right after so no one would suspect.

“Let’s take it over there.” Ven points to a short boulder against a tree nearby, a good photo op. They pluck the arbor up from both sides and plant it in front of the boulder. Ven takes stock of the sight. “Not bad.”

“Thanks!”

“I take credit for the choice of flowers.” Ven rolls the rope into a tight circle, layering it on the boulder with each loop in equal circumference. He splays the book open and studies. “It’s kinda creepy,” he says though he gets no response and he doesn’t ask for one.

Terra shoves his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo and waits. Aqua isn’t here yet. The vest constricts his breathing, the thicket suddenly feels humid, and Terra wipes his cheek, realizing that his heart is beating fast. Time sped up to this moment and dropped him here without warning. Now it’s slowing down out of pure, unjustifiable spite to torture him in the final hour. 

“You okay, dude?” Ven asks.

Terra lifts his face to the sky to keep the tears in his eyes. “If I cry now, I think I’ll cry for the rest of the night.”

Ven snorts. “No one would be surprised, trust me.”

But it’s not working. He’s two seconds from sobbing. “I don’t know. I…” He scoffs. “I can’t believe it’s happening. I’m expecting her to never show up or brush me off last minute when she realizes what we’re doing—”

“No.” Ven approaches Terra like he’s about to punch him in the stomach to make a point. “Don’t think like that, she’d never do that.” 

Ven has good faith and better timing. Aqua approaches the other side of the clearing, the fabric of her dress gracefully making waves with every step, the foliage fluttering light and shadow on her figure. She holds her bouquet in one hand and a framed photograph tucked under the other.

It shocks Terra.

He can’t stop the flow of tears. He covers his shivering lips and the drip of his nose, his face twisting from the sight of her—brilliant, like she’s made of stars, a gift walking the earth.

“Terra, are you okay?” Aqua asks, rushing to him now, the train of her dress bouncing behind her. 

In the flash of an instinct, Terra runs to meet her, tripping over a branch and landing right into her arms. 

“You’re—” Terra sucks air in, his heart shoving itself up his esophagus. “Y-you’re s-so beautiful.”

Aqua uses her pinky to wipe his tears. “So are you.”

“Let me help you.” He takes the frame—a portrait of the Master, bordered with a white ribbon—and walks her to the arbor. Ven takes the portrait and places it on the boulder, their little family tied together, fractured in glued pieces, now and always. Before they start, Terra asks Aqua to pose under the arbor so he can take a picture of the trees and the flowers surrounding her. Beautiful.

“How do we do this?” Terra asks when he finds his voice again, still trembling. Aqua stands to the side to take her place. She’s beautiful.

Ven takes the book in his hands. The description of this ritual covers at most two pages. “Well, it’s archaic. It’s from the Age of Fairytales but it sounds like we will intertwine your hearts—but in an intense way, like we’re sewing them together.”

Aqua holds her bouquet to her chest. “Shall we start?”

Terra chuckles too hard, gasping for breath. “Simple as that.”

They wait for Ven’s cue, who also has no idea how to do anything. Ven clears his throat, shrugs his shoulders, and reads:

“We witness today the soldering of two hearts. To intertwine like the roots of a tree, the severance painful, the nourishment plentiful. A physical bond, a magical one, the merging of two sprites under the guidance of one truth. Two hearts, but one.” Terra watches the way Aqua watches him. There’s no one else in the world, Ven’s voice disconnected, like it floats on air. “Now it says to summon your Keyblades. Dig the tips into the ground, and offer your hilts to each other.”

Ends of the Earth is massive, taller than Ven. Stormfall looks delicate but it’s menacing, sharp, direct. They offer their hilts, the shafts crossed over each other, Stormfall light and airy in his hand, Ends of the Earth weighty and thick in hers. 

Terra finds it interesting that they’re using the hilt to connect each other’s hearts—the Keyblade should never be used against a person’s heart in traditional Mastery, because it’s such a dangerous weapon and it’s so violating. The blunt hilt, on the other hand, the physical manifestation of their hearts, is like exposure, an offer of vulnerability. 

Aqua’s feels like it’s thrumming, singing. She’s happy.

Ven steps forward with the rope and ties it over the hilts in loops. “This is just an image, the ties that bind, two Keyblades, but one. To intertwine a heart is to forge a chain, a friend, a companion, a memory. If missing then a void, a dream, a wish until reunion.” He steps back into position. “Before we go on, I think this would be a nice place to say your vows. Terra, you first.”

Terra stammers, looking into her eyes. “I-I couldn’t write one. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Ven whispers, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. “I wrote some just in case.”

Terra doesn’t take it. He licks his lips. “It wouldn’t have been graceful. None of it—all of my thoughts—pale in comparison to you, Aqua.” He steadies himself with labored breathing, the squeeze on her Keyblade like a hold on her waist. “You’re so, so beautiful, and I’ve spent my days believing I don’t deserve you, because… because I couldn’t make things right like I should have.” 

Aqua quivers, gently touching his arm with her free hand and motioning for him to breathe. 

He continues, “I’m sorry. I wish the Master was here. I wish I was smart enough to prevent it from happening.” He inhales, choking up from the mention of Eraqus. “I never thought you would marry me of all people, so… I promise... I will be there every step of the way. I promise you, if you’re scared at night, I’ll be there to protect you. If you’re hurting in another world, I’ll come find you. If you’re confused, I’ll hold you close and help you make sense of it. I’ll brew you tea to help you sleep, I’ll step in the line of fire even if you wish to do the same for me, I’ll walk to the ends of the earth to make sure you are safe and healthy. I promise I’ll be with you.

“And I’ll mess up. I know me. I’ll fix it. If you want to clobber me, I’ll be patient. I’ll learn. I’ll do better. Every day you save me from myself. This is the least I can do. I’ve loved you since I was a kid. I’ll love you every day.”

Silence falls on all of them, Terra sniffing just to get some fresh air, Ven wiping his eyes, Aqua blinking too much. 

“Now you, Aqua,” Ven says. 

Despite being teared up, Aqua holds it together. She’s so good at that.

“Terra, I stand with you because I do want to be here. I do want to be by your side. I do want to laugh at your bad jokes.” She relieves a giggle. “I love you. I have for as long as I can remember, even if I didn’t know the words for it.” She studies his face. “I’m sure the Master is here with us, and he couldn’t be prouder of you. I’m proud of you.” Suddenly, she switches her tone, as if to lecture. “And if you even fathom taking a hit for me, remember that I’m faster than you. I’ll protect you first.” Then she softens. “I promise to be your shelter when the storm falls on us. I promise to sit on your bedside when you’re sick, to lift you up when you’re down about yourself, because you are sometimes. 

“You are my home, no matter how far your heart is from me. If you need a star to light your way back, I’ll give it to you.” She smiles widely, like she’s about to laugh. “If something between us breaks, I’ll mend it with you. I can’t imagine my life any other way.”

Their words are now spoken. Aqua suppresses a laugh and grins like a child. Terra holds his breath, just in case he screams from every emotion that he can’t name.  

“Well,” Ven says, rolling his sleeve up so he could wipe his nose on his forearm. “I guess it’s time. This bond is an oath you will remember each other until you close your eyes for the last time, for the tragedy to forget is to be alone forever. Do you accept this?”

“I do,” Terra says.

Aqua hums. “Yes, I do.”

Ven smiles. “You know what to do.”

With his free hand, Terra presses two fingers to his chest, over his heart, where he builds a golden glow. Twenty years living with her, ten years in darkness thinking about her, this vow is impossible to break—even if they can’t do this any longer, Terra could never forget her. Never. In his hand is now a piece of himself, a nugget of his heart, a memory of her in his bed that he never wants to lose.

He takes those fingers to her chest, two thick golden threads drawn out from his heart. She winces at the touch, quick to dissolve. Stormfall shifts in his hand, growing longer, its hilt thicker and darker, wrapping around like a weaved shield. A subtle change, a little piece of him.

Aqua does the same, fingers to her chest first to create the threads, bringing them to his chest. It does hurt, like a needle digging into his skin, sharp for the entire length until it’s suddenly gone. 

He feels full, as though his insides are creating space for something extra. Warm, frightening, whole, exciting. Her piece is a memory he can’t read but he doesn’t need to. Ends of the Earth opens way for an icy blade to cut through the middle as the hilt fans out like wings. A piece of her to take with him where he goes.

“Alright,” Ven chirps, snapping the booklet closed. “The book ends with the quote, Two hearts, only one, but I think this means I can call you husband and wife in secret. So kiss.”

Their Keyblades dissipate when they hold each other, tender but with appetite, unaware of their surroundings for several selfish moments. With sewn threads, it’s as though he breathes through her. Terra presses her onto him, feeling how her heart now beats in sync with his.

“I love you,” she whispers. They are married. 

He’ll never tire of hearing it. Stars, they are married. “I love you, too.”

Terra hears Ven sniff before a handkerchief is shoved into his face. “You need your face dry and clean before everyone sees you,” Ven says. 

The sunset now is deep, a fiery orange. Terra doesn’t want to let go.

“I’ll hold you again tonight,” Aqua says, patting his chest. “I want to see the meteor shower Ven promised.”

“It’ll be a good one,” Ven assures.

Terra kisses her. “Then we have to make a run for it.” He picks Ven up like a log, jogging through the thicket of the forest with Aqua close behind him, the Master in her arms. When they approach the castle, in the twilight, they hear chatter coming from the halls, as though ghosts are partying outside. 

Terra feels at peace despite that he now has to perform, balancing on a tightrope where he doesn’t care if he falls. He turns around and holds her neck to kiss her again, feeling her laughter in his mouth. “One more?” he asks when they break. 

Ven, still tucked in Terra’s arm, groans. “I never asked for a front seat to the kissing show. Is this my punishment?”

Aqua kisses him one more time, whispering to him I love you for what will be a string of I love you’s in the night to come. Friends will cheer, Terra will trip on the way to the altar, Sora will cry because Terra will cry, Xion will eat too much cake and get sick, Isa will laugh because he is drunk, Kairi will be the star of the dance, Aqua will be the star in his eyes. 

[notyetneedcoffee]

Soul Seer, Pt. 11

Loki Master List

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Angst, 18+ Smut

Author’s Note: Takes place right after Avengers 1, with time travel elements and hints of Infinity Wars. Does NOT follow cannon after Avengers.

Sorry for taking so long to update!

“Who the hell is this guy?” The Army Major looked over Captain Rogers’ shoulder at the tall sandy haired man. The man, tall and lithe, with a scruff of a beard and curl to his hair appeared ordinary enough. Only his posture and the look in his eye gave any hint that this was actually the God of Mischief.  

“Special Consultant. Highly classified. You can call him Luke.” Steve answered, voice leaving no room for question.

“Consultant, huh?” Major Belcher stared into the other man’s hazel eyes and blank face, trying to get a reaction. “So, what does he do?”

Loki swallowed back the instinct to show this cocky soldier just exactly what he could so. Instead, he just stared back, unflinching. It seemed to agitate the man, which was enough for the moment.  

“He’s here to help find survivors. He also possesses special knowledge on the alien technology; what’s dangerous, how it should be handled. Listen to him. That’s an order.” Steve did not like the fact that Belcher still did not look at him as he spoke. He shifted sideways, physically moving into his line of sight. “Understood?”

“Yes, Captain.” Belcher nodded. “Understood. Where do we start?”

Loki followed the Captain and the other soldiers through the streets. Large construction machinery filled the available areas in the streets. Building debris had been piled in heaps. Trucks loaded with alien technology and questionable slag waited to be filled before being moved out.  

The soldiers and city workers moved with quick organized effort, that if you did not know, looked like chaos. As the day progressed, Loki witnessed the reactions as slabs of concrete were lifted to reveal unidentifiable corpses. The resolve and fortitude of the people surprised him. His eyes locked on a man operating a back-hoe, carefully performing his duty with careful precision despite the tear tracks clearly visible on his dirty face.  

He stopped a crew from moving a Chitauri skiff with a leaking fuel cell. Crawling over the twisted wreck, Loki magically rendered the danger inert out of the sight of the others before allowing them to move it. He helped a unit secure several weapons, showing the soldiers how to check for active charge or damaged power cells.  

As the work continued, Loki stretched his senses for survivors. There were so many dead. The Army piled Chitauri bodies on trucks. Tents had been erected for on-site morgues for the humans. Loki mentally built a wall around the sight. He did not want you to accidentally see his memory of this.  

A violent rumble, a scrape of concrete and groaning of steel, drew Loki’s attention. A desperate cry reached his mind. It was distant and weak, but distinct. “Stop!”  

His call prompted no action, so he sprinted forward to shout again. Damn his promise to not overtly expose his magic. Loki just wanted to freeze the operator of the great mechanical beast. “Stop, you fool! Now!”

“What?” The machine ground to a halt.  

“There are survivors down there!” Loki bellowed, pointing harshly. “Do not move that thing another iota.”  

“What the hell is going on here?” Another man jogged up. Judging by the ill fitting dress shirt and tie he wore under the bright orange safety vest and different colored hardhat, Loki assumed he was a superior of some sort.  

“I have ordered that man to cease his actions.” Loki clenched his teeth at the exasperated look on the other man’s face. He loathed explaining himself. “There are survivors down there. The shifting of this weight will collapse the void they are in.”  

“And just how the fuck would you know?”  

Loki’s eyes rolled. “Because I know.”

“Oh, because you know?” The guy mocked. “I’ve got a schedule, buddy. Stop interrupting my crews.” He turned back to the mover spinning his finger in the air, signaling for the work to continue.  

The machinery roared into gear, moving a large chuck and causing everything to shift.  

Mental screaming filled his mind.

Loki spun around, roaring with a voice louder than a human’s should be. “Stop! Don’t you move!”

“Listen…”

Loki twisted his fist in the man’s shirt and lifted him to his toes before stopping himself. “No you listen. That machine will not move, nor am I your ‘buddy’.”

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Steve came running over. “Lo – Luke, let him go. What’s happened?”

Loki explained, and to his surprise, the Captain listened.  

“Okay, what’s the play? Can you get to them or do we need to bring in the engineers to stabilize this?” Steve looked at the pile of concrete collapsed into a below level mezzanine or platform of some sort.  

“Allow me to take a look around.” Loki took a few steps and then paused. “Perhaps, Captain, you could join me.”

Steve followed as they picked their way over the pile to an area where the marble floor of the building lobby could be seen under the dirt. They were mostly out of the sight of everyone else. “Can you tell how many are down there?”

“Thirteen,” Loki paused. “Perhaps twelve. They are weak, dehydrated and terrified. Now thanks to the fool up there, some have new injuries.”

“How are we doing this?” Steve’s stomach churned a little at the thought of being trapped all this time.

“Fast or slow. If you wish to maintain appearances, I can magically stabilize the debris while you remove the obstacles. Or I can just push open a pathway and you can go get them.”

“Open the path.” Steve gave a grim nod. “We’ll explain it later.”

Loki focused, feeling the humans below. With a sudden roar and screech, the debris shifted. A rough and irregular tunnel formed. From perhaps thirty feet down screams and shouts called to them. Steve rushed down, sliding along the broken concrete.  

A familiar face looked up from behind an overturned car. Loki called out without shifting his attention. “Ah, Major Belcher. Do be of assistance and bring around the medical personnel. The Captain is bring up survivors and some are not well.”

“What the hell…”

“Now, Major.”

“Ah, yeah. On it.” The man turned, shouting for EMS.  

Thirty minutes later, Steve gave a hand up to a very dirty and very exhausted looking man in his mid-forties. “Thank you, Captain. Thank you. I tried to keep spirits up, but I thought we were all going to die down there.”

“You did amazing.” Steve put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “You stepped up and took care of them, kept a clear head. Now, go with these folks and let them take care of you.”

The man stepped forward and hugged Steve, weakly slapping his back. “Thank you for saving us.”

“I just went down and helped you up.” Steve looked over at Loki in his human disguise. “He’s the one that found you and opened up a way to get you out.”

The man turned to Loki and before he could step back, Loki found himself in the man’s embrace. He froze, awkward and unsure. The tunnel crashed closed. Everyone jumped.  

“Wow! Close.” The man exhaled. “Thank you, man. Thank you so much.”

“No need…”

“Go on,” Steve came to Loki’s rescue. “Get checked out. Rest. And for heaven’s sake eat a sandwich.”

The man gave something between a laugh and a sob. Still, he allowed the EMTs to draw him away.  

“That was…” Loki began. “Odd.”

“Not so much.” Steve smiled. Loki noted it was a genuine smile, like the kind he gave you. “Give it a chance. The hero gig might grow on you.”

The weight of Loki’s body curling around your body woke you from your deep slumber. His arms pulled you close, tucking your back against his chest. His nose rubbed along the skin behind your ear.  

You sighed contently, until your conscious mind realized what Loki was doing. You felt him physically. You felt his presence. But the depth of him, the rich warmth of his touch on your mind was gone.  

“What’s wrong?” You whispered.  

“Nothing, my pet. Sleep.”

“Please, Loki. There’s no need to lie to me. Something happened.”  

His rich voice poured over your skin. “Many thing happened.” He pulled you tighter.  “Many.”

Snuggling back against him, you tentatively brushed your mind against Loki’s. After a moment you felt a flood. Confusion. Sorrow. Admiration. Regret. Surprisingly you realized, you also recognized a strange kind of satisfaction.

“Did you save people today?” You whispered.

“Yes.” He whispered back.

You struggled to roll over. He let you and you kissed him. Your tongue slid along his, drawing soft moan from his chest.  You touched his face, pulling back to look into his eyes despite the darkness. “Good.”

Loki’s eyes fell closed, physically wrapping around you as he mentally sunk into your love and support.

His hand slipped over your flesh, hands cool on your warm skin. With an equally  gentle touch, you pushed him over onto his back. Loki allowed you to guide him to lie back so you could pet and touch his perfect flesh.

You straddled his hips, rubbing yourself against his length, slicking him up. The fact that this man, this powerful god, would submit back and allow you to touch him and taste him as you wished, filled you with a heady mix of awe and desire. That he felt it too, took your breath away.

His hand cupped your face, staring at you as you moved against him in the slow and languid rhythm. You sucked the tip of his thumb into your mouth, nipping it with your teeth, as you shifted your hips and impaled yourself on him.

A low moan slipped from his lips. “Oh, my sweet pet.”

“Yes.” You so the full length of him rubbed along your sweet spot. Loki’s palms slipped over your breasts, down to your hips. His feelings washed over you. Not the engulfing fire, but a deep and complicated need. 

You pace quickened, the tension building. Loki pulled you close, his mouth devouring yours. One hand tugging at your hair, the other guiding your hips, he began to take more control. 

“My dear.” He moaned into your mouth, kissing you between words. “My pet.” You body began to quivered around him. “I’m so happy you are mine.” 

Heat flooded from your core to your limbs. Your release making you whimper against his lips. Loki’s hips snapped, body twitched, as he followed you. He held you there, draped over him, until you began to pepper his jaw with light kisses.

“And am I happy you are mine.” You whispered. 

His arms tightened. It was a long time before he let you go.

 TAGS

@1800-fight-me / @a--1--1--3—3 / @alexakeyloveloki / @archy3001 / @asgardianthot / @asiaaisa77 / @badassbaker / @bangtan-serendipity / @beautifullungs / @buchanansebba / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @daughterofthenight117 / @dawnlaufeyson / @dsakita /  

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[saltandlimes]

between jobs and stars

[thorki, 650 words, bounty hunter prompt from this list, sci fi au]

Thor lazes back in his hair, spreading his legs wider. Around him the Hammer hums, the throbbing heartbeat of his ship playing out in groans and hisses, in mechanical thumps and rattles. In front of him, the screens are blank, as they have been for the past two days.

They’re in between jobs right now. They’d dropped their latest prize off on Mars three days ago for the Martian police to deal with, and Thor had steered them straight out of the system. Neither of them like Mars much, with its rules and regulations, and disdain for bounty hunters. Disdain, of course, that doesn’t mean they don’t pay up when the time comes. They hate to do their own dirty work just as much as everyone else, chasing criminals across known space. So Thor had taken them away without even a word from Loki, steering them towards Sirius and whatever fun they can find on the stations that hang like jewels around the stars.

The trip is going well enough. There’d been a minor short in one of the life-support systems yesterday, but Gung’ had repaired it fast enough, its mechanical hands working quickly as it soldered together split wires. They’ll have to get it looked at when they get to Sirius, but for now, its working again. Thor picks at the fraying fabric that covers his chair, glancing at the screens again. There shouldn’t be anything on them of course - pirates are a rarity on this route - but it doesn’t hurt to check, and Thor doesn’t have anything else to do.

There’s a faint buzz as the door to the bridge opens, but Thor doesn’t bother to turn around. Loki and Gung’ are the only other things moving on the ship, and Gung’’s probably down in engineering, fussing over the Hammer’s innards. Loki says nothing either while pads over to Thor on booted feet that should make more noise. He says nothing even when he slides into Thor’s lap, straddling him and blocking Thor’s view of the screens. Thor grabs his hips automatically, pulling Loki against him.

“Thought you were looking for our next job,” he murmurs. Loki giggles, grinding down against him as Thor’s hips flex upward almost involuntarily.

“I got bored,” he explains, tossing his hair out of his eyes.

Thor’s brother is beautiful. His eyes are almost feverishly bright and all his attention is focused on Thor. His ill-cut hair gives him a rakish cast, and the leather vest he favors adds to the impression. The thin scar that traces across one of his cheeks only helps to make him seem like some dangerous prize, something to be sought and captured, but never claimed. He giggles again as Thor stares at him, pulling a strand of Thor’s hair.

“You look a mess, brother,” he whispers, leaning in so they’re pressed together. Thor’s cock stiffens, twitching as Loki rubs up against it.

“Been sitting here too long,” Thor says. Loki picks at the fraying hole in Thor’s once-nice tunic, rubbing Thor’s bare skin with one long finger.

“Shall I distract you?” Loki whispers, leaning in and nuzzling Thor’s neck. Thor glances at the screens around Loki’s side, then huffs.

He leans back in his chair, pulling Loki with him. Duty can wait, when Loki is there to amuse himself with Thor’s body. Duty can always wait when Loki wants him. Thor has abandoned privilege unknowable by most of the galaxy and found himself as a bounty hunter, in a beaten up ship slowly wandering through the stars, all for his brother. If Loki wants him, if Loki needs him, he would leave anything and everything.

Loki laughs as Thor works his hands into the back of his pants. Thor will do anything he can to hear that sound, and to feel Loki against him, and they both know it. They both love it.

[golden-geese]

“coping mechanisms”

           mac/dennis. post "the gang goes on family fight" season 10 episode 8. heavy mentions of mental illness stuff. ur classic mushy hurt/comfort trash. p much canonical. no mentions of self harm, suicide, eating disorders, etc; just panic attack/sensory overload stuff. one shot; 2,174 words.

  coping mechanisms

Mac had seen Dennis’ shoulders change when the buzzer went off for the first time. Seen him tense up. He could have written the user’s manual on Dennis, he knew what every shred of body language meant on the guy-- knew that this meant he was coiling up tighter and tighter with every nudge. And he kept losing, because the more he lost the more he was going to lose. The buzzer kept going off and Dennis kept cringing and covering his ears and smiling that maniac smile. Leaning back and forth, his eyes shut tight-- Mac had seen it coming. How could he not? And then Dennis started to go down and Mac felt himself jolt a little, moving his hands toward Dennis, before stopping himself--

 What do you do when the most important person in your life is sobbing and pounding on the floor of a game show set?

 What do you do when the most important person in your life is red-faced and writhing?

 What do you do if everyone is watching?

 Over and over again, these questions radiated throughout Mac’s world. What do you do? What do you do? What do you do?

What he ended up doing was standing, watching, feeling the thud of his pulse behind his ears-- glancing at Dee to see if she cared as much as he did, to see if she was feeling as heartbroken as Mac was--

 She wasn’t, of course. A teaspoon of concern lingered behind her blue eyes, but nothing more.

 He turned toward Charlie. Charlie just looked confused and Frank was just kind of staring off to the side.

 “This doesn’t represent me! This doesn’t represent me!”

 The host signed off and walked away, the lights lowering. Mac took the opportunity. Shoved past Dee and, because he didn’t really know what else to do, sank down onto the floor next to Dennis.

 “Hey, dude?”

 “It doesn’t represent me, it went so wrong!”

 “I know, bro, let’s just go home,” Mac said. Automatically, his hands moved toward Dennis-- but again he stopped himself. He knew better. Dennis was still covering his ears-- Mac knew if he touched Dennis right now, Dennis would cringe hard and tell him to get the fuck away. Knew from experience.

 “They can’t air that!”

 “Let’s just go home, Den, okay? Give me your keys.”

 He glanced up. Producers and assistants were walking around, starting to clean up the set-- Dee and Charlie and Frank were already long gone. For a second, Mac was furious with them for just leaving Dennis like this.

 “They can’t,” he said again, quieter, still shaking hard. His eyes had that glazed over look. The vein in his forehead was out.

 “Can you stand up, dude?”

 Slowly, he started to. Mac did too, watching Dennis in case he started to stumble. He realized how tight his jaw was set, so he loosened it. Loosened the fists his hands had become, too.

 Once they were both standing, Dennis slowly turned his face toward Mac. Their eyes met, dark brown and light blue, and Mac had to give himself a very stern silent pep talk about how he should absolutely not hug Dennis right now. Even though hugging Dennis hard enough that he was shielded from everything was the only thing Mac wanted in the entire world.

 “Let’s go home,” he said again, instead.

 Dennis nodded a tiny bit, turning his face back toward the floor. His stupid argyle sweater vest was crumpled, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. He trailed a pace or two behind Mac as they headed to the parking lot, but Mac glanced back at him every minute or so, making sure he was still there even though he could hear Dennis’ footsteps.

 They came upon Dennis’ car.

 “Dennis,” Mac said.

 He almost cringed. “What?”

 “Can I have the keys?”

 With a shaky hand, he fished them out of his pocket. Usually he would throw them to Mac, but this time he just sort of held them. Cautiously, Mac reached toward him and took them, trying not to touch Dennis’ hand because he knew the guy would hate it.

 Once he had the keys, he unlocked the car. Dennis didn’t move to get in the passenger side.

 “You gonna get in, bro?”

 He opened his mouth for a second, but didn’t say anything. He closed it again quickly.

 “Take a deep breath and get in the car, man.”

 He did it. It took him a few tries to buckle his seatbelt.

 Mac stared at him for a minute, again wondering what the hell he was supposed to do. Usually when Dennis got like this he yelled and threw punches and stormed off right after, or on rare occasions sobbed and shook until he exhausted himself enough to fall asleep. Now he was just crumpled up again, face buried in his hands against the dashboard. This was a far cry from whitened knuckles and broken beer bottles and blossoming bruises.

 So Mac turned the key and pulled out of the parking spot and headed out of the parking lot toward the highway.

 “You want music, dude? Would that help?” He asked after several minutes of silence.

 “No,” Dennis said, almost too quiet to hear. The anguish in his voice cracked at Mac’s ribs.

 “Is there anything I can do to help you? Anything in the world?”

 Dennis didn’t respond for a moment. Then; another almost unperceivable “no”.

 “Let me know if there is, okay? I’ll do it. I swear.”

 Dennis didn’t respond. Mac kept driving.

 It felt like hours before he was pulling into a parking spot at their apartment building. Again, he felt a hit of rage-- Frank was Dennis’ father, Dee was his twin sister, and Charlie was his best friend, and none of them gave a shit. None of them tried to help at all. Assholes, Mac thought harshly. Fucking selfish assholes.

 He turned back to Dennis, shoving the anger toward the others aside. He’d ream them later for it, he decided. Nothing he could do now. Anyway, right now he had something more important than anger to worry about.

 “Den, you wanna sit here for a minute or go inside?” He asked.

 Instead of saying anything, Dennis sloppily reached for the seatbelt and then the door handle. Mac got out too, checking to make sure Dennis’ car was locked before they headed inside. He stole glances at Dennis the whole way through the halls and staircases.

 When Mac stopped to unlock their door, he watched Dennis lean against the wall out of his peripherals. His shoulders were still shaking, his eyes were still glassy and distant-- but his face wasn’t red anymore. He just looked pale now. Mac exhaled.

 They went inside. Mac locked the door behind them and put Dennis’ keys in the little dish by the door. When he turned around, Dennis was just standing there, his arms crossed tightly, his head still turned toward the floor.

 “You should go lay down,” Mac suggested after a beat of silence. “Bed or couch, whatever you want. But you should lay down.”

 Dennis turned toward Mac and pointed his empty eyes at him. It was almost eerie-- or it would be, if Mac weren’t so worried and lovesick and heartbroken and all that bullshit.

 “Wherever you’d be most comfortable,” he heard himself add for no reason.

 Dennis nodded tightly and turned toward their rooms-- but then, instead of going into his own room, he went into Mac’s. Through the open door, Mac watched him sloppily kick off his shoes and lay face down on Mac’s unmade bed.

 He stared for a second, then took his shoes off, then wandered into his room and laid on his back next to Dennis. Far enough away that they weren’t touching. Dennis was always bragging about his king size memory foam bed. And here he was, face-down in Mac’s cheap queen size bed.

 For a minute or two, he just listened to Dennis breathe. It was coming out shaky, but at least he wasn’t sobbing anymore. He stole a glance at the back of Dennis’ head.

 Then he was bored, though, so he reached for the bible on his nightstand. Started flipping through the bookmarked passages. Re-read one or two of his favorite stories from childhood. If Job still had faith after losing everything, Mac could still have faith even though Dennis was suffering. He said a silent prayer toward that end. Said another silent prayer that he would be able to alleviate some of the suffering somehow. Prayed for peace for both of them. Prayed that he would be forgiven for the hard block of guilt in his chest that he hadn’t been able to explain lately.

 Eventually, Dennis’ breathing changed to soft snores. They felt like relief to Mac.

 As quietly as he could, he got off the bed. Went to grab a clean pair of boxers and an old tee shirt. Headed into the bathroom to take a shower.

 As he washed his hair, he tried to piece together what he would want if he felt like that. Beer, probably. One of their comfort movies on TV. But mostly he would just want Dennis.

 He stopped the water and started drying himself off. Shook his hair a little. It always felt so good to have it loose after being gelled down all day, even though it fluffed up and looked ridiculous.

 He got dressed. Pants had always been optional in the McDonald-Reynolds household-- many a movie night had passed with both of them wearing nothing but boxers, in fact. It was a relic of the times Mac had made the half hour trek to Dennis’ college frat in West Philly to watch action movies together.

 Once his hair was dry and his boxers and tee shirt were on, he wandered into the kitchen and grabbed a beer. He drank the whole thing in a few gulps, standing next to the open fridge, and then cracked open another and downed it quickly too. He stopped after two, though, already sick of the taste.

 Unsure of what to do next, he ended up wandering over to the couch and sitting down to watch TV. Law and Order reruns were on, so he settled for that, keeping the volume low for Dennis’ sake.

 After a while, maybe two or three hours, he heard Dennis stirring. A moment later he came out of Mac’s room and wandered into the bathroom-- and left the door open as he stripped his clothes off and got in the shower. Mac tried hard not to look. Why the hell did he leave the door open?

 He stayed in there for a long time. Mac could feel the steam wafting into the living room-- Dennis always showered so damn hot.

 When he eventually emerged, his skin was red and his curls were matted to his forehead. He went into his room, a towel around his waist, but again left the door open as he rifled through his dresser drawers. He came out a moment later in a long-sleeved shirt and boxers. He sat down next to Mac, avoiding his eyes.

 For a few minutes, they watched Law and Order together, Mac occasionally stealing sideways glances at his roommate. He wanted to put an arm around him, to stroke his hair, to feel Dennis against him somehow. Twenty years of sporadic drunken fucks and half-asleep snuggles and stolen kisses, Mac thought, he’d taken for granted. Hadn’t truly appreciated the way Dennis felt against him. Hadn’t banked the memories for when he needed them. He should have, knowing damn well he couldn't have it whenever he wanted.

 “You want a beer, dude?” He asked, breaking the silence during a commercial break.

 Dennis started a little. “Okay,” he said.

 Mac went to the fridge and got four bottles. He opened Dennis’ first one for him without even thinking about it, and they sipped at their drinks in silence for several minutes.

 Halfway into the second, though, Dennis put a shaky hand on the remote and turned the TV off.

 The room fell to silence. It must have started raining outside at some point, because Mac heard droplets against the dark windows. After a few hesitant moments, he turned to look at his best friend. Dennis was already looking at him.

 “If you weren’t there, I would still be on that floor,” Dennis said plainly.

 “Good thing I rode up on a white horse and saved your ass, then,” Mac responded. “Guess I’m your hero.”

 Usually Dennis would shoot shit right back. But then, usually Dennis wouldn’t point out that Mac helped him in the first place.

 This time, he just turned the TV back on, lowered the volume, and in one graceful motion, laid down with his head on Mac’s lap.

 Before he even realized Dennis was on him, Mac’s hands were in his hair. At least this was something.

 At least Dennis needed him in this moment.

[real-life-pine-tree]

Rehabilitation: Shay’s First Date (Jitters) (4/?)

Side effects may include a loss of self-identity and individuality, frequent nightmares, questioning your own existence, severe mental trauma, constant panic attacks, spontaneous crying at random moments, and a strong desire to stay with loved ones at all cost. Co-written with @violetganache42​. Takes place between Chapters 6 and 7 of Arc-V Aftermath.

Later that night, back at the Obsidian household, Shay was in the tailor room, trying to figure out what to wear for his date with Declan. He had to look nice for their dinner this evening, but he wasn't sure whether he should wear a suit or a different set of formal attire.

"DO YOU NEED HELP, MASTER SHAY?" a robot maid asked.

"Sort of," Shay answered. "Declan Akaba invited me out to dinner this evening and he said I should wear something formal."

"IS THIS A DATE?" the robot maid asked.

"Kind of..." Shay admitted. "But I see it as spending time with a fellow Duelist and a good friend."

"MY GOODNESS, IT IS A DATE," the robot maid said. "I HAVE JUST THE THING FOR YOU TO WEAR."

She dashed off to the tailor room's closet where all of the Obsidians' premade outfits were nicely stored and organized in preparation for any surprise special occasions. She skimmed through Shay's collection before spotting what she was looking for and took it out of the closet. His first date outfit consisted of a long-sleeved, button-up, white shirt underneath a black vest and a black suit jacket, black pants with a black belt, and a pair of black shoes.

"Not bad," Shay remarked. "This looks pretty snazzy."

"I MADE THIS IN CASE OF A DATING EMERGENCY," the robot maid informed. "YOU DID SEEM NERVOUS."

"I'm not nervous," Shay lied.

"BUT IF I REMEMBER CORRECTLY, DECLAN AKABA IS NOT A WOMAN," the robot maid said. "YET YOU ARE STILL FOND OF WOMEN."

That was the problem. Shay was straight yet he didn't want to turn down the offer. He was given the advice to think of this date as spending some time with a friend and that's exactly what Declan is to him: a friend. Even if he does feel nervous and uncomfortable about it, there was no way he was going to say "no" to hanging out with someone platonically close to him.

"DO NOT FEEL NERVOUS," the robot maid advised, giving the outfit to Shay. "THE AKABAS ARE JUST AS WEALTHY AS THE OBSIDIANS. I AM CERTAIN THE DINNER DATE IS ABSOLUTELY LOVELY."

Shay stared at his given outfit as he thought about how well the dinner will turn out. He wasn't sure what restaurant he'll be going to, but maybe as long as he takes Lulu's advice, he might have a good time. Trying his hardest to not let his nerves get the best of him, he walked over to the fitting room to get changed into his suit.

Some time later, Lulu entered the tailor room holding a light blue sundress. "Can you make some adjustments to this?" she asked the robot maid. "It feels a bit tight around my chest."

"CERTAINLY, MISTRESS LULU," the robot maid replied.

Lulu handed her sundress to the robot maid to help fix the chest area. Right as she was about to head over to the sewing section, Shay came out of the dressing room, wearing the suit that was saved for tonight.

The heiress let out a whistle. "You look pretty sharp," she remarked.

"It's for tonight," Shay explained. He still looked a bit nervous.

"Don't worry about it," Lulu reassured. "As long as you treat this date like a friendly get-together with Declan, you should be fine."

"I hope so," Shay said.

Several minutes later, Kameron drove on the streets connecting the Heartland and Paradise sections of the Original Dimension's city. He was taking his son to the restaurant where the dinner date was going to be, as seen by the GPS function from the Duel Disk's maps app currently giving out direction on how to get there. Declan had informed Shay on what restaurant they were going to shortly before they left, so knowing where they'll be eating at was pretty helpful.

Kameron noticed his son was rather quiet. "Are you feeling alright?" he asked.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you and mother about this," Shay said. "I knew you were looking forward to me marrying Dextra Papillion. I really want to marry her, but-"

"It's alright, son," Kameron said. "I heard about how Declan Akaba helped you out when Lulu was kidnapped. He's a kind man and I know you see him as a good friend."

"So you don't mind this...date?" Shay asked.

"Of course not," Kameron answered. "I know you're only attracted to women, so this date isn't a concern."

Shay smiled at his father's response, knowing how he was looking forward to marrying Dextra and his worry about different sexualities. "Thank you for understanding, father," the heir said.

"You're welcome," Kameron replied. "Just remember to maintain your perfect image throughout the evening."

"Of course," Shay said.

With his father's opinion on tonight, Shay felt his nervousness start to ease a little. Maybe Kameron and Lulu were right; maybe he should try to view this as a friendly get-together since his arranged marriage won't be affected by it at all. There was a slight issue with this, however: he has never been on a date before and he doesn't have any experiences with them to be able to pull this off. Whenever he thinks he has an issue tackled, another one happens to pop up. Man, he felt like this was generally not his day.

After going through the roads, streets, and intersections, they made it at the restaurant and Shay was dropped off in front of the doorways.

"Hello Shay," Declan said, waiting for the Obsidian heir near the doorways. "You look rather handsome this evening."

Shay noticed his "date" had also dressed up nicely for the night by the simple navy blue suit he was wearing. "So you finally ditched that scarf of yours," he remarked.

"I'm flattered by your humor," Declan replied, a slight smile appearing on his face. "Now shall we enjoy this evening?"

"Sure," Shay answered.

The two walked into the restaurant to have them be seated at a table. It appeared it was starting to get busy yet there wasn't that much of a wait, so they were able to get themselves situated at a table that was in between the entrance and the doorway leading to the outdoor tables.

"A moonlit dinner?" Shay asked. "Isn't this a bit of a cliché?"

"I certainly don't think so," Declan answered. "It is a rather clear night and the moon is bright enough to provide natural lighting."

He was right; there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. The lunar luminescence casted its rays down on the city as the stars twinkled and sparkled in the midnight blue sky. If anything, it was one of the most beautiful clear nights they have ever seen.

"So why me?" Shay asked.

"Hmm?" Declan questioned.

"There are a lot of other guys in the city," Shay elaborated. "Why did you invite me to have dinner with you?"

"Because there was something about you that captivated me," Declan explained. "Maybe it was your deck, or your dueling strategies, or maybe it was your perfectly-coiffed hair. Regardless of why, you simply fascinated me as an individual."

Remembering the advice his father and sister gave him, Shay thanked Declan for the compliment. He does have a strong archetype, a powerful strategy, and even a nicely-combed hairstyle.

Declan picked up the provided menu. "So what would you like to have?" he asked.

Shay looked at his menu. "The lobster salad looks delicious," he remarked, knowing he hasn't ate lobster in a long time.

"Lobster?" Declan asked. “Why that?”

"I remember having it for dinner with my family before the Invasion," Shay recalled. "The robot maids always cooked it just right."

"So you really do have robot maids," Declan said.

"Of course," Shay replied. "Because of mother and father's successful business, we have robot maids taking care of the cooking, cleaning, and helping us maintain our perfect images."

"My parents never purchased any robotic servants," Declan said. "They hired actual people to help us at Leo Corporation."

"You're not worried about someone getting ill or quitting due to personal reasons?" Shay asked.

Declan responded on how that was the least of his concerns, especially regarding how he and the staff were preparing to go up against Duel Academy by studying and conjuring up Pendulum cards, hosting the Arc League Championship, and forming the Lancers. He could tell his date was more used to not having to deal with those risks at all.

"Besides, what if a robotic servant malfunctions?" Declan asked.

"Mother and father taught Lulu and I about basic mechanics in case of those emergencies," Shay answered. "Sometimes we even use that same knowledge to program new protocols into their databanks, whether it's a reminder to not mention an upcoming wedding or get away with unnecessary grooming."

Declan was confused by that last statement. "Unnecessary grooming?" he repeated.

Shay blushed slightly. "When I was younger, I hated being born into an elite environment," he explained. "I wanted to hang out with commoner kids and not worry about how I looked."

"You aren't like that now," Declan pointed out.

"Only because I grew out of that childish behavior when I got older," Shay continued. "Nowadays I appreciate my wealthy background."

If Declan was going to be honest, Shay had it easy. When he was younger, Leo left to become the head of Duel Academy to pursue his mission to fuse all four dimensions back and bring back Ray. This forced his son to become the new CEO at around 13 years old and seek assistance from Yusho, leading to his disappearance when he was scheduled to duel against the Sledgehammer.

"You are rather fortunate, Shay Obsidian," Declan said. "You spent your whole life living a luxurious life with your parents and sister."

"I know," Shay said. "But it wasn't always easy. I grew up with the constant knowledge that I would eventually take over the family company. I do love mother and father, but they pressured me to always looking my absolute best."

"That would explain your rather aggressive behavior during the Interdimensional War," Declan noted.

Shay looked a bit tensed. "I lost everything when Duel Academy attacked," he said, sounding more sad and less angry. "Mother and father were carded, our home was reduced to rubble, and ObsidianCorp was destroyed." He was unaware of a stray tear coming from his eye. "It was a miracle everything was fully restored today."

Unbeknownst to Shay, Declan spotted the tear taking shape on his eye. He reached over to the heir and gently wiped the tear away.

Shay was surprised by the sudden contact. "What was that for?" he asked.

"You seem upset about the Invasion," Declan commented. "I am terribly sorry it happened to you." His hand shifted to Shay's cheek. "I'm aware that recovering won't be easy, but you cannot let it interfere with your bright future."

Shay simply stared into Declan's purple eyes as he heard the remark being made. For someone who rarely shows emotion, his face was illustrating noticeable hints of sympathy.

"Thank you," Shay said.

"You are quite welcome," Declan replied, releasing his gentle touch on Shay. "Now we should order our meals for the evening."

Shortly after their discussion ended, their waitress came out to take down their orders. "What would you both like to have this evening?" she asked.

"I'll have a lobster salad," Shay said.

Declan checked the menu for a few seconds. "The ramen soup looks delicious," he decided.

"Alright," the waitress said. "Your food will be out shortly."

The waitress headed to the kitchen to place their orders and have the chefs cook their meals. As she did so, Shay and Declan waited for their dinners and ended up talking about another topic, one that was far different than the Invasion and the Interdimensional War.

"Have you ever looked at someone and get a sudden feeling as if you met that person before?" Declan asked.

"It depends on the person," Shay answered.

"Yuya Sakaki," Declan clarified. "From the moment I laid my eyes on him, I felt...drawn to him. Kind of like he was a missing piece in my life."

"How could that be possible?" Shay asked.

"I'm not quite sure," Declan admitted. "But there was a cheerful spark in his eyes. I could have sworn I saw someone with a similar spark long ago."

He wasn't sure where he's seen him before, but it was probably back before Action Duels were announced. He remembered heading somewhere for something important when his eyes caught a glimpse on someone. This particular person seem more…introverted than usual, almost like an incident should have occurred and changed his life for the better, but this spark still remained. Within the shy and timid nature lied the energy of a happy, caring, selfless, friendly individual, as heard by the tone of his voice; one—or many people—may say that he usually comes off as adorable.

Years have passed since the dimensional split and his encounter with Yuya made him realize he had that similar spark, one that was energetic, theatrical, fun-loving, entertaining, and loves to make people smile. It often left him in deep thought when he was alone—whenever he wasn't focused on the War—about how someone like him could possess such comparable qualities. It wasn't until earlier today when he went to Duel Academy to see if he could help out with the blood separation right as ARC-V was beginning to overload. He recalled about seeing a Slifer Red girl following him to where Leo, Zarc, and Ray were, who was revealed to be Tea from a voice which sounded remotely somewhat familiar. A slight shift of his purple eyes left them locked on the same person he had spotted years ago. The spiky, tri-colored hair, the fair skin, the grown but still short body figure, but most importantly, his glazed, amethyst purple eyes. He had changed so much, and from the looks of things, it was due to Zarc's onslaught. Despite what he went through, the spark was still there. The same spark that he felt from a single glance during when he felt like he wasn't Declan Akaba.

Wait, wasn't Declan Akaba?

The grey-haired teen tensed up a bit. "Are you alright?" Shay asked, sounding concerned.

"I'm afraid not," Declan said. "Sometimes I have these memories that must have belonged to someone who is very similar to me, but isn't me at all."

"What do you mean by that?" Shay asked.

"Even I cannot answer that question," Declan admitted. "But-" His eyes widened in realization.

"Who am I?"

"You are...uh... Deck...lan. Yes, Declan. You are Declan Akaba, my beloved son."

Declan always felt like Leo wasn't the best at coming up with creative names, but he didn't mind the name that he was given. In fact, it was his earliest memory. Now that he thought about it, he did remember seeing his father looking at a deck of Duel Monsters cards and use that to give him his name, but why? Why was he really given the name "Declan" in the first place?

"Here are your meals," the waitress said. "Enjoy."

Declan snapped out of his thoughts as he noticed his ramen soup and Shay's lobster salad have been served to them. As soon as Shay ate a forkful of his salad, he let out a happy moan.

"Enjoying you dinner?" Declan asked.

Shay swallowed the food in his mouth. "I forgot how delicious lobster is," he said. "I miss the comforts of luxury."

"I can tell," Declan said. "You even look much cleaner than when I saw you this morning."

"My family and I spent the day restoring our perfect images," Shay explained. "I had my hair trimmed and I got a back massage."

"Really," Declan said. "I didn't even notice." Even though Shay was a lot cleaner, he still pretty much looks the same as he did on the night of the Invasion.

"I know I still look the same, but I really have cleaned up," Shay said. "I even received a deep tissue back mass-"

He noticed Declan was reaching up to feel his hair to see if it was cleaner, prompting him to grab his wrist. It was a natural instinct of him to do whatever it takes to preserve his perfect image; it was most likely the reason why he was sent to solitary confinement at the Facility back in the Synchro Dimension because there was no way Sector Security was going to give him a criminal mark on his face.

"My goodness," Declan said. "Are all Obsidians that obsessed with their perfect images?"

Shay sheepishly let go of Declan's wrist. "I don't like it when other people touch me," he admitted. "Mother and father raised Lulu and I with the mindset of making sure no one would muss up how we look."

Declan sipped on a spoonful of his ramen soup before speaking. "How peculiar," he remarked. "Even your sister?"

"She has a good reason why," Shay explained. "When she was younger, she wanted to have long hair similar to the ones movie actresses have. With mother's permission, she learned how to properly maintain long hair." He ate a forkful of his lobster salad after speaking.

"That would explain why she would still have long hair after Duel Academy's attack," Declan said. "With any other girl, all that hair would have been long gone after such an event."

"That's Lulu for you," Shay said. "She's probably the most stubborn girl on the planet."

He wasn't wrong; her stubbornness was one of her most defining traits and they have Ray to thank for that. Lulu was stubborn about a lot of things: wanting to have long hair, willing to help out the Resistance despite a serious spinal injury, tackling Yuri head-on in a duel, actively fighting back a brainwashing insect to save her brother, and even her boyfriend preferences. Maybe Ray herself was just as stubborn prior to the dimensional split.

Several minutes later, the two had finished their dinner. Shay's plate was clear without any traces of lobster or salad remaining while Declan ate all of the noodles and deciding if he should have the rest of the broth; it did taste scrumptious.

"Thank you for inviting me out," Shay said, reaching into his jacket pocket for his wallet. "How much was the lobster salad?"

"No need," Declan said. "I will pay for both of our meals."

Declan took out his own wallet just as the waitress came out with the bill and handed it to him. After checking what the total price was, he pulled out his debit card and brought them to her to pay for dinner. This was a dating tip Shay learned; people who set up dates are the ones who pay for all their meals. Deep down, he had almost forgot this was a date, much to his dismay.

Declan noticed Shay's slightly uncomfortable expression. "Are you feeling alright?" the grey-haired teen asked.

"Is this really a date?" Shay asked in response.

"Of course," Declan answered without a second thought. "Like I said, you're quite handsome and I have had my eyes on you for a while. Why do you ask?"

"I wanted to make sure," Shay lied, not wanting to hurt his friend's feelings.

He knew it. He knew this was a date and it is becoming clearer that Declan is gay. He had a feeling about it ever since the phone call and the latter's compliments on his handsome appearance and his well-kept hair were a dead giveaway. Despite being uncomfortable about it, Shay still kept Kameron and Lulu's advice about this being a friendly get-together instead of an actual date.

"Tell me, Shay," Declan said. "Have you ever attended a fireworks show?"

"A lot," Shay answered. "I attended numerous Heartland festivals with my family, so fireworks were always involved."

"But have you seen a Paradise City fireworks show?" Declan asked. "Because there is going to be one tonight to celebrate the restored Original Dimension."

Shay raised his eyebrows in surprised intrigue, indicating that he has never seen a fireworks show in Paradise City even though he has been there multiple times. How did Declan even found out about this?

"How do you know about that?" Shay asked.

"Because I was hoping we could attend the fireworks show after dinner," Declan explained. Was he...blushing? Why was he blushing? Does he wish to have someone accompany him when the fireworks go off?

The waitress returned with Declan's debit card. "Here you go," she said. "Thank you for visiting us. We hope to see you again."

As Declan thanked her for returning the debit card, he analyzed the receipt to see how much he paid and calculated what her tip was. He wrote down the amount he was tipping her and the sum of that and the subtotal on the receipt with a pen she had provided.

"Shall we continue with our date?" Declan asked.

"Sure..." Shay replied, still feeling uncomfortable about this being a date.

They got up from their table and headed to the front doors to leave the restaurant. Once they were outside, Declan led the way to where the fireworks were going to be held since Shay wasn't sure the place where Paradise City's fireworks shows usually take place.

"Come," Declan said, gently holding Shay's hand. "The fireworks show will take place at Heartland Park."

Shay glanced at their intertwined hands. "Why there?" he asked.

"For scenic purposes," Declan answered.

That was an odd place to watch the fireworks because that was where all of Heartland's festivities occur, so wouldn't that limit their chances of seeing the celebration? Regardless of where they were viewing it, Shay still doesn't feel anything with his hand being held by Declan's.

"But I thought it was a Paradise City fireworks show," Shay pointed out.

"True," Declan said. "But this is to celebrate the restoration of the Original Dimension. The fireworks from Paradise City are simply a lot more entertaining than the ones from Heartland."

How does he know that? He has never seen Heartland's fireworks in the entirety of his life; fortunately, Shay has seen them multiple times, so he will be the judge of that. "I'll take your word for it," he said.

They spent the next half hour taking a walk from the Paradise section to the Heartland section of the Original Dimension city, where they headed over to the park with Shay leading the way this time. Upon arriving at Heartland Park, the two noticed a lot of other people were already there. It seems the dimensions fusing back into one was a cause for celebration among everyone throughout the four dimensions.

Whether they were in the revived city or in other parts in the world, it was truly a time for rejoicing back into one after spending approximately fourteen years split apart. In Declan's case, this was a nice way to continue his date whereas Shay was more focused on checking out what makes this fireworks show more entertaining than Heartland's. The two were able to find a comfortable spot that was in between the crowd and a few scattered trees.

"What makes Paradise City fireworks better than the ones in Heartland?" Shay asked.

"Simple," Declan answered. "Yusho was in charge of the fireworks show."

Yusho? The same Yusho that founded and used to teach at Heartland Duel School? This just got interesting for Shay because that means his former teacher was the one putting together tonight's festive bash; it was definitely going to be his first one in three years.

"Ladies and gentlemen, and people not native to the former Pendulum Dimension, get ready for a spectacular fireworks show you have never seen before!"

Everyone directed their attention towards the speaker, leaving Shay and Declan a bit stunned at who was the one giving out the announcement. It was none other than Yuya Sakaki himself. Since when did he start helping out with hosting and putting together his hometown's fireworks show?

"Now before we begin, I have an important announcement to make," Yuya continued. "Ya see, me and my dad had to make some...modifications to the fireworks show." He rubbed the back of his head. "Let's just say I kinda developed a fear of loud explosions."

He quickly looked at Yuto, Yugo, and Yuri, who all knew exactly what he was referring to. After merging back into Zarc, they were all traumatized by the incident and have recently discovered prior to their separation that they are easily triggered by loud explosives because they reminded them of Supreme King Dragon Zarc and the destruction the demon-beast caused.

"I also asked my dad to remove all of the green fireworks for the sake of the girls," Yuya sheepishly added.

The Bracelet Girls, standing next to Yuya's counterparts, knew exactly why Yusho would remove those specific fireworks. Any light emitting a bright neon green tint was a trigger for them because they couldn't stop thinking about ARC-V powering up and how they were all forcefully transferred into it to help revive Ray.

"So without further ado, let the annual Sakaki Fireworks Show begin!" Yuya announced.

The audience applauded as he went back to where his family was. As the clapping subsided, fireworks started to blast off into the sky and quietly explode in a variety of images that were each colored differently and can actually move, coming off as more of a light show than a fireworks show. The show included Yuya's Performapals as Mr. Blue Sky by Electric Light Orchestra playing in the background, the images moving in time with the music.

The imagery of the fireworks was categorized into two groups: the Performapals that Yuya used over the years appearing and disappearing to the rhythm of the song while the monsters he recently acquired (like Tuning Magician) performing by feeling the flow of the lyrics. Everyone was blown away by what they saw, especially the Fusion, Synchro, and XYZ residence. They have never seen a performance this stunning before, so they were all thinking that this was the best one they have seen. Everything from the choreographed images to the cheery atmosphere of the selected song, which makes sense because this was a special kind of day where the people of all four dimensions can begin living with one another. Even Shay couldn't help but have his jaw drop at what he was watching, leaving Declan with a smirk on his face.

"This is incredible!" Shay exclaimed. "How...?"

"The fireworks in Paradise City are infused with Solid Vision," Declan explained. "Because of this, the enhanced technology can create various imagery that actually move."

Shay continued to stare in awe as the Performapal fireworks quietly exploded to Mr. Blue Sky. If that was the case, then why didn't Yusho introduce that during his time at Heartland? From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Lulu cuddling with Yuto and sharing a few kisses although it felt rather different to them, mostly due to them finally being back in their own bodies. The Obsidian heir then found himself thinking about how much his sister has grown; it was actually quite unbelievably fascinating to see her mature prior to the Invasion. Originally a toddler with a strong desire to have long hair like the actresses in movies and to pursue her dream of being an actress herself, she was now but a beautiful, polite, and feminine young teen who has plans to marry a noble, chivalrous gentleman whom she met months ago. He was completely okay with their arranged marriages yet he still couldn't stop thinking about how much she has grown. …It was a bit heartbreaking for him.

"Are you alright?" Declan asked.

"It feels as if it was only yesterday Lulu was a bright-eyed little girl," Shay said. "I remember when I brought her to the Heartland Spring Festival for the first time."

Lulu was only as young as a preschool student when she attended her first Heartland Spring Festival. She had always wanted to go there when she was a toddler and that moment was her big chance.

"Come on, Shay!" Lulu had exclaimed, dragging him over to one of the festival booths. "I want a plush Rainbow Kuriboh!"

Shay let out a laugh. "Alright," he said. "I'll win one for you."

The booth she took him to with the Rainbow Kuriboh plush had a classic game set up: knocking down all six bottles that were stacked on top of each other. "Step right up and win a prize!" the booth owner announced.

"I'll take that challenge," Shay said, giving the man a few coins.

"Splendid!" the booth owner said. He gave Shay a small ball. "You only have one shot, so make it count!"

Using the ball he was given, Shay aimed at the stacked bottles to see where would be a good point to knock them down. He has been given private lessons to enhance his smarts and athleticism, so this was a perfect opportunity to put them in use. He chucked the ball towards the lower leftish-center section, knocking the bottom two down, which caused the upper three to fall and topple over the last standing one.

The booth owner was amazed. "Incredible!" he exclaimed. "I have never seen such precision from a boy that young! How-" He looked closely at Shay and Lulu. "Wait a minute... You're the Obsidian kids, aren't you?"

"We are," Shay answered. "And I promised my sister a Rainbow Kuriboh plush."

"Of course," the booth owner said. He gave a Rainbow Kuriboh plush to Lulu. "Here you go."

"Thank you!" Lulu happily said, hugging the plush.

She has had it ever since because she never forgot the day her brother won it for her. She always took care of it and made sure it was in good condition just in case the time comes to pass it down to her potential offspring. Shay cherished that memory for years now and still found it hard to believe that the long-haired girl cuddling with Yuto and watching the fireworks show with him was the same bright-eyed young child he took with to the Heartland Spring Festival.

"She grew up so fast," Shay said, sounding a bit sad. Here she was now, reunited with her boyfriend and family, and she can now look forward to continuing her acting lessons without any sudden interruptions. And in a few more years, she will marry Yuto and they will have kids of their own. She was growing up right before his eyes.

"At least you actually get to grow up with your younger sibling," Declan said.

"What about Riley?" Shay asked.

"Recently I discovered she had all of her previous memories retained," Declan explained. "Her not smiling wasn't because of Zarc. It was because she remembers how mother treated her. Yuya's Dueltainment only distracted her. I decided it would be better for Moon Shadow to raise her."

It was going to be weird not having Riley around Leo Corporation because Declan had developed a caring sibling bond with him/her, especially after learning Henrietta took advantage of her adopted child's trauma. He knew what his life was like, and thanks to Declan’s tutelage, Riley became a strong Duelist who helped put a stop to Zarc's madness, even if it reverted him into a baby girl. He figured having Moon Shadow raise her would be perfect since she has looked up to him and he has protected her on certain occasions. Surely, the two will come up with a plan for her new life.

"I did give Riley's deck to Moon Shadow for when she's older," Declan continued. "If all of her memories really are left intact, she'll have no trouble relearning her C/C strategies."

Despite initial hesitation, Shay gave Declan's hand a gentle squeeze. "You made the right decision," the Raidraptor user said. "Moon Shadow will make a perfect parental figure for Riley."

"Thank you for the reassurance," Declan said. Then suddenly, he pulled his hand away from Shay's. "But you can drop the act. I figured you weren't gay."

Wait, he knew all along?! How? When? Shay was more confused than relieved by this sudden revelation. If that was the case, then why did Declan even ask him out in the first place?

"If you knew, why did you ask me out?" Shay asked.

"I didn't know at first," Declan admitted. "I wasn't sure if you were that kind of person, but I did notice how handsome you are. Yey I realized you seemed uncomfortable at the restaurant, which made me come to the conclusion that my suspicions are correct."

"What suspicions?" Shay asked.

"That every handsome man is either fictional, taken, or straight," Declan answered.

Those were his suspicions? Well, he isn't entirely wrong about people having fictional crushes or learning their crushes are taken or have different sexualities. It is a thing that constantly happens.

"But at least I now know Dextra won't be disappointed," Declan said. "You're a perfect fit for her."

Shay was surprised to hear that. "How do you know Dextra?" he asked.

"Mother always invited the Papillions to family parties," Declan explained. "As a result, Dextra ended up becoming one of my closest friends."

Shay never knew Declan and Dextra were close friends with each other; it did seem interesting about how a family from the XYZ Dimension was invited to parties in the Standard/Pendulum Dimension. That must have been happening when he discovered there were four dimensions. At least he was glad to know his friend accepted him being straight and his upcoming marriage.

During the fireworks show finale, an image of Xiansheng Magician appeared and shot an arrow, causing the image to quietly explode into light purple hearts with white angel wings. Then the words 'Congratulations on your arranged marriage, Yuto!' appeared in the sky, causing the eggplant-haired teen to blush heavily.

"Yuya!" Yuto called out. "People don't celebrate arranged marriages!"

"Aw, don't be such a bummer," Lulu said. She kissed her boyfriend on the cheek. "It's probably his way of celebrating."

Yuto couldn't stop blushing at how embarrassed he was about everyone learning of him getting married to Lulu, but a smooch from her did ease him down. As for Shay, he got a slight chuckle at the finale because Yuya must have found out earlier today or prior to the blood separation. Even after the initial struggle against Duel Academy, it looked like the Obsidian siblings have bright futures ahead of them.

[lightening816]

The Guild Gala: A Boxtrolls Fanfic

Special thanks to @motherofallsharks and @scrapnick for allowing me to use their respective Boxtrolls OCs, Molly and Payton :)

Chapter 1

    “Hear ye! Hear ye! Good citizens of Cheesebridge, the curfew is over and done. Come out of your homes. Enjoy another day of life, away from the risk of child snatchin’ Boxtrolls!”

    Speeches similar to this were the first things Madame Molly Monte-Cristo heard each morning. As the sun peeked through her thin pink curtains separating her from her balcony, the young woman opened her bright green eyes to the same pink canopy bed that hovered over yellow bed sheets. She sat up and yawned. Who needed a ticking alarm clock when one had the oily voice of the leading night time pest exterminator?

     Molly sat up and felt her stomach churn and her mouth water. She groaned as her feet swung into a pair of soft yellow slippers and she wrapped a pink silk robe around her yellow silk nightgown. She staggered over to her washroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyelids were sunken and she seemed a little green. “How did I…oh yes…” she smiled despite her ill feeling, glancing at an empty wine glass and a sheet of paper on the desk beside her bed table behind her. Another night, another glass of wine, another letter to write to her Monty Pickles.

    Well, not ‘her’ Monty Pickles technically. But maybe someday…

    She removed her hair curlers and allowed her poofy blonde hair to fall gracefully down her shoulders. She ran a wide toothed comb down her layered locks and cleaned her teeth. A smile suddenly appeared on her face because she remembered what tomorrow would be. She dashed from her bathroom, sat at her writing desk, and began writing another letter.

Dear Mr. Pickles,

 Forgive the repetitive letters, but I just remembered this morning that tomorrow’s the big day! Don’t forget to meet me by the steps inside the Guild! I can’t wait to see you. Don’t forget our promise.

Your dearest friend…

      Molly hesitated to sign her name.

      Friend…

      She sighed. As optimistic as she tried to be, that one word in particular always bothered her. ‘Well,’ she thought. ‘Friend means I’m halfway there, right?’ She sighed her name as a knock was heard. “Yes?” Molly asked. “Good morning, Madam. Breakfast is ready in the dining hall,” the small voice of a house staff member replied from behind Molly’s bedroom door.

“Thank you! I’m coming!” She replied. She hummed as she left, smiling at a banner she glanced at from out her window.

One Day Until The Guild Gala …

    Dr. Antoine Eugenie Payton knew that night time was the best time of the 24 hours within each day. Not only was it much more quiet, but it also wasn’t as warm, giving her at least a little bit of comfort in her stuffy morgue. She hummed to herself in her husky voice as she sewed up the remaining skin of one of her newest corpses.

    “Mrs. Browne, you were just full of surprises, for an old lady. A boil on your leg, and a tumor in your brain, strong bones though. Tsk, tsk,” she said to herself as she finished sewing up the old woman’s flesh. She washed the corpse, placed marbles in the eye sockets, and put Mrs. Browne in a long drawer.

     Dr. Payton was quite happy to be done with the poor lady. A scratching feeling in her throat caused her to hurry up the stairs to her loft on the top floor. It was a spacious dwelling with a small kitchen, closet, and the door to her bathroom to her left as she entered. To her right was a full sized bed topped with a soft floral printed blanket, and a pair of plush white pillows. In front of her was a wide green rug, a sofa with a coffee table stacked with books, potted plants, and a semi circular window just behind it, giving her a pretty good view of tall houses, chimney smoke, and a windows connected by laundry lines. She tossed her dirty work gloves, and whistled to herself as she used her right mechanical arm to roll up her opposite sleeve. Her organic hand pulled out a soap dispenser, allowing her to use her mechanical elbow to let some old fashioned hand soap fall onto her smooth olive toned hand.

     Its opposite however was a metallic mechanism connected by wires, screws, and gears, all connected to her shoulder by a leather strap. It itched only a little bit as it merely sat over the side of her kitchen counter, near the water, but thankfully not close enough to touch it and possibly rust or fry the woman’s skin. As her skinned fingers ran as much soap as she could over the rest of her real hand and wrist, she was too focused on cleaning to realize the water’s temperature rising.

    “Yeowch! Damn faucet!” She cried as she retracted her hand from the suddenly hot water. She cursed at herself as she studied the pink spot on her skin, but then smiled and blushed at herself. Maybe if her lover behaved, she’d let him kiss it. She blushed and giggled as she cooled the water, finished washing it, and wrapped a towel around it. “I wonder…” she muttered to herself.

     Payton was a woman of certain kinds of simplicity. Aside from hand soap, and unlike some of the more elegant women in the town of Cheesebridge, she didn’t spend too much time pruning in the bathroom; no jewelry, polish, not even the tiniest ounce of foundation. She didn’t mind. Who had the time for fancy clothes and jewelry when you were elbow deep in dead clients? Sipping on a cup of water, she picked up her daily paperwork, sat down on her sofa, and wrote down Mrs. Browne’s general and forensic information; an elderly brunette with a sad old brain tumor, despite her obviously strong limbs. She checked her work, verified it all with a signature, and properly stored the document away.

     The doctor glanced at her Green Hat and coat, hanging on a rack, before noticing the outside world; dark and numerous in stars, which she figured were out shined by the street lamps. Cheesebridge was by far the strangest town she’d ever lived in. In the 6-7 months she’d been there, she had been appointed the official mortician of the town; a member of the Guild as their official Green Hat. Not that it made any difference to her. Even though the Guild was the governing organization of the town, all that truly mattered to her was her work. She didn’t particularly like having to submit her paperwork to those dull, snooty White Hats as her Bosses of sorts. Thankfully, she didn’t have to see them everyday. She was more than happy to mail in her paperwork before the end of the week.

    “Hear ye! Hear ye! Good citizens of Cheesebridge, the curfew is over and done. Come out of your homes. Enjoy another day of life, away from the risk of child snatchin’ Boxtrolls!”

    There was another member of the Guild however, that she did see everyday, and she didn’t mind one bit. Payton could sense the rest of the town awakening from the sound of that same oily voice. She finished her water cup, washed it, and put on a new pair of work gloves to prepare for her next client. She noticed the white banner hanging outside.

One Day Until The Guild Gala

     ‘Ah, yes…’ she thought. Payton shook her head and shrugged.   …

     "Mummy,“ 3 year old Winifred Portley-Rind began. “Yes, darling?” her mother asked. “What’s a gala?” “Oh my dear, Winifred, the Gala! The Guild Gala!” Lady Cynthia Portley-Rind exclaimed as they sipped on their porridge in Her Ladyship’s bedroom. As 2 young women in black dresses and white aprons, laid out that day’s dresses for her and her child on the former’s bed, the young woman spoke to them all excitedly. “How exciting! The biggest holiday of the year. Even moreso than Christmas. I can’t wait. Dancing, socializing, speeches; I must commend your father for letting me decorate the foyer for the party yet again. Lord knows the poor dear is busy enough as it is with the other White Hats,” she sighed as the maids helped her into her dress.

     The wife of the Mayor was a very fashionable woman, and even at the tender age of 3, Winifred Portley-Rind believed it every time she looked at her rake thin mother. Both ladies were fair skinned with bright green eyes. Her Ladyship’s long blonde hair was being braided by Martha, a young maid with delicate hands, while Winnie fidgeted in her cushioned chair as another maid, Lydia, stylized her hair into pigtails. “Lydia, use the pink bows today,” Her Ladyship requested. “Yes, Madam,” the latter maid replied before adorning Winnie with her hair bows.. Little Winnie squeaked a little at the feeling of staff members helping her into her day dress, alongside Her Ladyship. “But, Mummy dear, what IS the Guild Gala?” Winnie asked.

     "A means to celebrate our founding of course!“

      Everyone turned to find two men standing at the bedroom doorway. One was a man in black, white, and grey and looking quite neutral. The other looked much more impressive with her white silk vest, trousers, and tall feathered hat. The latter man stroked his red mustache, as he left the first man in the doorway to greet his wife and daughter. “Ah, dear!” Her Ladyship replied. “Father!” the little girl added. His Lordship patted Winnie’s head as he stepped towards his wife. Each maid bowed low to the Mayor. “Your Lordship,” they both said.

     "Cheshire,“ he gestured towards the man in black and white. "Escort Miss Jones and Miss Prenderghast back to Mrs. Dickson for their next assignment.” The butler walked out with Martha and Lydia, leaving the small family together.

    Now, dear,“ Lady Portley-Rind resumed. "Do you suppose Trubshaw Baby Remembrance Day will outshine the Guild Gala?” she asked the man casually. “Don’t be ridiculous, Cynthia…Well…to be fair…ever since Mr. Trubshaw and his poor son disappeared, people don’t think about the Gala as much as they used to, do they? I mean, it’s Cheesebridge’s anniversary for goodness sake! The day our founders found this whole valley and set up shop,” the mayor explained.

    “Of course, dear.” Lady Portley-Rind leaned forward onto her dresser and stared into her long mirror while she padded her face with power and decorated her eyelashes with mascara.

    “At first, we were just some immigrants from London looking for elbow room and now look where we are 200 hundred years later! We’re the most popular source of dairy products in all of England. Even Queen Victoria appreciates us and many of us don’t normally leave this town! But now that the curfew’s been installed for the last year and maybe a half, it wouldn’t surprise me if Trubshaw Remembrance Day became the most important day on the calendar, given how much people talk about it. Not to mention those Red Hats I hear every night…” His Lordship grumbled that last part. He thought of that oily voice that cried out 'Hear ye! Hear ye!’ and his nose wrinkled at just thinking of the sound.

   "Father?“ Winnie asked. His Lordship glanced at her. "What is it, Winifred?” “Will Boxtrolls be there to bite fingers and nibble knees?” the toddler asked with a twinkle in her eyes. The parents were silent for a minute. His Lordship winced. Her Ladyship fainted. “Ooohh….” she moaned as she fell. “Winifred,” he put his hands to his hips. “Proper girls do NOT think so lightly about nocturnal monsters.”

   "But Mr. Snatcher says-“

   "I know, I know, but you’re a nice young girl. Nice young girls don’t need to dwell on needless things. Besides, you’re too busy to worry over them. Today’s your last day to practice your dancing until the Gala after all!” “Aww, more dancing?” Winnie asked. “Yes, yes, of course…” His Lordship replied as he turned to the window. “Oh! Are we still here?” Her Ladyship asked, sitting back up. “Love, do pass the tea?”

   “Very well,“ His Lordship replied. "I just came to see if you two were ready for the day. I must be off.” “If you must, darling,” Cynthia replied. “But, Father,” Winifred started. His Lordship poured the tea, kissed Her Ladyship’s cheek, patted his daughter’s head, and left.

    Winnie pouted. …

     In her short 7 years of existence, Pepper Snatcher had never been so concerned in all her life. She could sense something coming to disturb her flight through the clouds with powder blue feathered wings. As she performed her flips in the air, laughing and smiling, she flinched at the sound of thunder. She turned and far out in the distance, she saw a cluster of dark gray clouds forming. They were far away then, but Pepper didn’t stay to find out when they’d reach her. She hurried through the sky, searching frantically for land. The sweat dripped from her brow and her gasps and heavy breathing increased as this feeling of dread overwhelmed her senses.

     In the moment, a sharp feeling scratched her pale fair skin. She screeched and looked up. A fat, red vulture wrapped its humongous talons around her thin body. She tried to squirm free, but all she could do was wiggle her feet and scream for help. “Mummy?! Mummy!!”

    “Pepper,” that deep, oily voice replied. “It’s time to get up.” Her eyes closed, but then they opened again, back in the real world. The little girl found herself entwined in her gray and white bed sheets, back in her old dreary bedroom on the highest floor of the largest factory in Cheesebridge. Her alarm clock screeched before she reached over to turn it off. It read 6AM. Pepper pinched her extra long men’s night shirt and picked it up so the air could circulate over her form. She yawned while kicking the sheets away and rubbing her chocolate brown eyes.

     Almost every morning began this way: waking up from a strange dream involving some red, overweight predator, and rolling out of bed to get herself ready for the day ahead. She reached into her closet and after a few minutes of deliberating, picked out a deep blue work dress over her purple one and chose a white pinafore to match. She picked out a white bow to tie up her short, deep red hair with, allowing half of it to stay flat on her shoulders, white stockings and black leather boots with laces.

    Pepper paid little attention to her surroundings at this moment. She was the most colorful thing in the room. Her room was quite large, and held a twin sized bed, a bed table, a closet, and a complete bathroom. She didn’t mind the bed or furniture, but she always did wish for more colorful walls and bed sheets, for they were painfully dull and gray. If only Pepper was brave enough to ask her Father for more colorful options. She knew she wouldn’t though. After all, Father is a busy man; a very important gentleman who needed to focus on work, not on the small, simple concerns of a little girl.

     And Pepper was, to him, very simple indeed.

     She made up her bed, made sure she left her bathroom and floors neat, and left her room with the door closed. Pepper faced a long hallway with red carpet, dark walls, and gasoline lamps. To her left were 2 more doors down; her father’s Private Quarters and his office. Many times did the little girl think about entering these places by herself, but she knew it would only end in disaster.

     Living with her father for 8 months had given the girl plenty of tips about the man, she knew better than to forget. The very idea, for instance, of going into his room or his office uninvited was ludicrous. The simple action of touching his special chair at the kitchen table, without the intention of dusting it, was unthinkable, and certainly one simply doesn’t touch his things without permission. Father was the rule maker; the respected head of the household, and that was just the way things were.

     And if she knew him, he’d be getting close to the end of his work night right about…

     "Hear ye! Hear ye! Good citizens of Cheesebridge, the curfew is over and done. Come out of your homes. Enjoy another day of life, away from the risk of child snatchin’ Boxtrolls!“

     …now.

     Pepper hurried down the hallway and found the steps that led to largest room in the factory. Down the steps was a wide open space where plenty of manufacturing used to take place no doubt, with its old fashioned generator sitting parallel to the steps. Nowadays, it was a wide foyer of sorts with a kitchen and laundry corner to the side, and a basement underneath that was absolutely off limits to the little girl.

     So that day, just like any other day, Pepper hurried down the steps, put a pan on top, and turned on the potbelly stove. …

     "Hear ye! Hear ye! Good citizens of Cheesebridge, the curfew is over and done. Come out of your homes. Enjoy another day of life, away from the risk of child snatchin’ Boxtrolls!”

     The tall foreboding motorized truck drawled down the cobblestone streets as the sky began to glow with the signs of an inevitable sunrise. At that moment, 4 figures remained on the streets of Cheesebridge and there they were on their truck, a contraption of handles, exhaust, and a huge sign on its side that had a painted rectangular shaped monster in black paint with a red line marked diagonally. “BOXTROLL EXTERMINATORS”.  

     The three that held on at its sides were a tall beanpole, Monty Pickles, a hulking giant with gentle eyes, Edward Trout, and an ice blue eyed imp, Bernard Gristle. On each of their heads was a red hat of sorts; for Mr. Pickles and Mr. Gristle, they were top hats, but for Mr. Trout, it was a tiny red bowler. None of them were as tall or as impressive as the hat belonging to the gentleman that sat on top. The gentle giant sat at the front side, driving with a tiny steering wheel.

     The fearless leader of them all sat in a fancy chair on top with a side table, a pot of tea, a teacup, and a saucer to his right. He certainly appeared the most impressive of all of them, with his red jacket of velvet topped with a fur collar, and hands clad with rings, the grandest of which had a large yellow gem sitting in place. Though the other men were bald, he had a long limp hair tied back with matching sideburns, peeling trousers, and a long ovular face to match a huge potbelly that sat between his buttoned vest and his crossed legs.

     The truck rumbled with the sounds of running wheels and the tiny whimpers of monsters behind the cloth that bore the monstrous side of the truck. Mr. Trout drove the truck down Milk Street, away from the tall 3 story buildings that made up most of the steep hill. The Boss put his phonograph, which he’d used to wake up the steep hill, away and leaned back, his fish like lips stretching into a knowing smirk.

    Cheesebridge may have been governed by the White Hats of the Guild in the day time, but at night, the Boss was proud to say that he was its perfectly efficient leader from sunset to sunrise, thank you very much. The curfew that took over after the disappearance of the widower inventor Herbert Trubshaw, and his infant son, Arthur, had granted the Red Hats all the time they needed every night to hunt down the suspected criminals responsible: the Boxtrolls.

    The Boxtrolls were menacing monsters, plain and simple. Those nocturnal creatures that stole children and what’s worse, cheeses of all kinds, would never stay away until every child they could find was nabbed and eaten and the town ransacked of all of its fine dairy products. But none of them need worry. As long as the courageous, gentlemanly leader of the Red Hats was still in charge of Cheesebridge at night, while most others were in bed, no underling of any kind would even come close to running away with another innocent child again. All in a night’s work for Mr. Archibald P. Snatcher.

     The truck pulled to a stop in the front yard of the factory, and as soon as the breaks were put on, the 3 employees hoped off. Mr. Pickles stretched his limbs. “Another night, another feat of heroics,” he told Mr. Trout. “Yeah, I suppose it was,” Mr. Trout replied. “TROLLS!” the imp added.

     "GENTLEMEN!“

     The 3 men turned around and watched their Boss climb down the truck. Once his pointed shoes were planted firmly on the floor, he swiped the dust from his jacket with his long thin fingers. "Another successful night, it seems,” he said with a chuckle in his throat. “Mr. Trout, follow me. I have much to do today, and I need all the time I can acquire,” he responded in a sudden low tone. “Right, Boss,” Mr. Trout replied tiredly.

     Pepper could hear the truck and the voices of the 4 men from inside. Every few seconds, she glanced at the door feeling her heartbeat increase, though it didn’t surprise her anymore. She turned off the stove and flinched at the sound of the door opening.

    “Pepper!”

    The 7 year old turned around and hurried over. Though her head only came up to his knee, his long thin arms managed to reach down and pat her head as he looked down at her. “Good morning, Father.” "And good morning to you too.” "Had a nice night, sir?” she asked as she let her arms fall at the weight of his jacket being taken into her skinny arms. She hooked his jacket and Red Hat onto a nearby hat and coat rack. The man chuckled. “See for yourself.”

     She turned to look at him but immediately recoiled. Wrapped around his arm between that and his hip was a shaking box. Mr. Trout followed him with 2 more. “Good morning, Miss,” the giant replied. Pepper glanced at him. “Good morning, Mr. Trout.” Pepper watched as both men walked past her, all the while standing there making sure not to say anything else. She did however, glance continually at the two men as they put the 3 Boxtrolls in cages, hanging by chains from the rafters high above them. Every time she saw the monsters, she always noticed the sounds they’d make. The mumbling and whimpering frequently confused her. Apparently, bloodthirsty monsters only genuinely felt sorry after they’d been caught.

    She tried not to stare too long, lest she get in trouble for any implied sympathy or communication with remorseless beings. Once Mr. Snatcher and Mr. Trout had walked away from the hanging cells, the blue-green faces of the trolls peaked out from their cardboard shells and glanced at the girl. Their pointed ears twitched as they looked at her. “Pepper?” They seemed taken aback from the girl’s doe like eyes and how she appeared when standing next to the dismissed Trout and the lizard like Snatcher. Both men were tall, huge mountains. “Pepper?” The little girl was as thin as a rake with a heart shaped face; she just didn’t match, they realized.

    “Pepper!”

     The startled girl child turned to face Mr. Snatcher, her hands neatly folded to her chest. “Yes, Father?” Snatcher whipped his head back at the boxtrolls who disappeared into their boxes at the sight of his glaring face and hair strands falling onto his face. “That’s better. Ignore them, Pepper dear, it’s no use looking at those things.” He pushed his hair behind his ear and reached behind her. He grasped her shoulders (making her shoulders shrug and stiffen), and lightly pushed her to the kitchen table. She could’ve sworn her father gave one last warning look to the trolls, but she chose not to question it.  His hands on her shoulders were all the sign she needed. A ‘Code’, she’d call it. 

     Pepper sat at the table and watched her father inspect what she’d made for them. This part concerned the girl, as she’d always hope that he liked what he found. As he pulled out dishes for them, her tiny fingers tapped on the wooden surface of the table. Her head eventually turned to the most impressive chair at the table. Each of the chairs looked the same, save for what Pepper called 'the Boss Chair’, an elegantly carved wooden chair with red colored cushions. The others were simple rectangular seats and stools, and she almost always sat in one of them. She shuttered at a memory of the last instance she had the gall to sit in the Boss Chair; one that she preferred to forget.

    Her hands rested on the table and twitched. She tried to regulate it by simply tapping on the wood, but nothing seemed to work, until she felt a long cold hand pat the top of her head. She squeaked a little, but it resulted in a blush and willing smile on her face. Her short hair was a little rustled, but she didn’t care at that moment. “I appreciate the attempt, my pet. I must say you’re getting better.”

    Pepper found the courage to look at him as he sat down and passed her a plate. His had 3 eggs and hers had 2. How he was able to carry 2 plates and a tray carrying a teapot, sugar, and teacups was beyond her, but she smiled regardless. “Thank you, Father!” Despite her delight, her smile faded a little.

    “Pour the tea, would you?” he replied.     “But, Father-”     “Now, please.”

    She quickly reached over and took the teapot, causing a small spill. He rolled his eyes at her. Pepper gasped and stepped away, as he stood up from his chair, reminding her of their sizes. He plucked a handkerchief from an inner pocket and absorbed the spilled tea. The girl looked down at her folded hands, unsure of what to do. 

    “A little frazzled, are we?” Snatcher asked, giving her a raised eyebrow. “I-I, well-” “Yesss?” he replied. Pepper widened her eyes and froze.      “I was just…wondering something…why are we drinking tea right now? We usually have some a little later, right?” she asked, rubbing her neck in nervousness. Snatcher smiled at her, now clearly relaxed.      “How insightful, my dear. I’m impressed,” he drawled, leaning back and crossing his legs. “Our schedule will be a little different today. No schooling, no chores-” “Really?!” Pepper asked excitedly. 

    “Pepper! Don’t interrupt.”      “I’m so-y-yes, sir.” 

    Snatcher nodded in response. “Good show, now where was I?” “Today’s schedule…” Pepper replied. “Ah, yes right, now Pepper, we’re going into town today to pick up those items we are to present to our White Hats tomorrow. Something to impress them with, if you remember. Then we’re going to visit Mother.” The little girl smiled genuinely at him. “That’s right! I love Mother!” Pepper replied. “As you should, darling,” he replied, sipping on his tea and pointed to the boxtrolls trembling in their cells. “You see those pests over there?” he asked. Pepper nodded. He left his chair to stare down the boxtrolls. One was bold enough to glance outside its box, but the moment it caught sight of Snatcher’s judgmental eyes, it squeaked and immediately retreated into its little square.

   “Typical…One day, everyone of these things will be destroyed by your esteemed father,” he elaborately gestured to himself. “And I shall take a White Hat of my own! I will be the most respected man in town, and you and your Mother will be at my side; the most respected pair of women here. It shan’t take long now, my dear.”

     Pepper didn’t expect anything less. Snatcher always loved getting passionate. Whether it was about the government, underlings, or his little family, the passion in his voice and his elaborate gestures helped him feel powerful. He was a passionate powerful man in her eyes. Pepper sometimes shrunk away from him, but this moment simply made her sit there in her chair and watch him give them this strongly worded speech, in awe of his confidence. He was so frightening yet so elaborate and opinionated.

     Pepper looked back over at the trembling boxes in their cells. “Father?” she piped up. “What is it?” he asked. “Can I watch you ‘take care’ of them today? The trolls, I mean.” Snatcher turned and put a fist to his hip. “Why?” he asked strictly. Pepper felt her spine tingle at the low, unamused tone in his voice. “It-it’s just, the Gala tomorrow; I mean, if we’re going to go and talk to the Guild, and-and you always tell me ‘maybe when you’re older! Maybe when you’re older’. When will I be olde-…” 

      The more Snatcher stared her down, the quieter her voice became. She noticed his eyelid twitch, causing her to nibble her lip. Another Code, she realized. She clutched a plain looking chair as her shoulders shook subtly. He approached her, so Pepper closed her eyes and tilted her head down, ready for the usual lecture. “Pepper, Pepper,…” he drawled. He placed his hand on the top of her head. She reopened her eyes, looked up, and kept her mouth closed. 

    “What have I told you about becoming a Red Hat, darling? Catching these things and watching their destruction?” he asked in a strangely friendly tone. “…that I’m too young, too soft, and too gentle?” she asked, followed by a nod of his head. “And I’m absolutely right!” he replied. He took her into his arms and tilted her chin so she could look at him into his cold, gray eyes. “We’ve been over this, child. Only the boldest men can ever perform such a task; a brave, serious strategist. And you, my sweet, are none of those things. You know that Boxtrolls just adore the taste of little girls after all. Not as quick as a fully trained Red Hat, you must understand. Besides, I’ve told you time and time again that those pests would stop at nothing to take you from me.”

   Pepper’s breath hitched at the feeling of his cold hands clutching her face as she stared into his eyes. “But, of course, with me protecting you, that surely won’t happen,” he said in a proud tone. Pepper looked down however. “…I wish I were brave.” Snatcher placed her on the floor. ”Oh, I know, I know, but you mustn’t waste your time with such aspirations. That’s why you have me. Aren’t you lucky? I’m only looking after the Fortunate Favorite of an Esteemed Gentleman.”      “But…you’ve said I’m your only favorite.”       “And?” 

     Pepper blushed awkwardly at him. “Good point.” Snatcher chuckled at her and while Pepper had opened her mouth to respond, he gave her no such opportunity. She let it go though; best to keep him in a good mood anyway. “Go upstairs and put on something nicer for our visits, hmm?” he asked as he escorted her to the stairs. “I’ll take care of the monsters. Now off with you.” Before Pepper started to the steps, she looked at Snatcher one last time. “Go on,” he said with a gentle push. She sighed and did as she was told. “Yes, sir.”

…

       Monty Pickles held his red top hat, dangling in his gnarled fingers, as he left the factory to walk up that steep hill he’d spent many hours inspecting in the night. His mind felt clouded as he watched people leave their homes and begin their day. Though he’d wave and say ‘hello’ to people passing by, all he could think of was a picture he kept in his coat pocket. He plucked it and smiled at it: Madam Molly Monte Cristo herself. How kind she’d been to give him a photo of her to assure the well meaning man that she hadn’t changed much since the night they’d met. Though the picture was black and white, her brilliant eyes and wild hair made it the loveliest image he’d ever seen. He remembered the promise they’d made to each other in regards to the Gala. He could only hope that Molly would be tolerant of his lacking of dancing skills. 

         “I wonder if she’s sent a letter lately,” he muttered dreamily.

[a-writer-and-musician-words]

11/30/18, 2:41 PM

THE HEAVY-HANDED CLINICIAN BY TIMOTHY JOSEPH GEISINGER

In a place far beyond the outer reaches of my memories, I grasped no uncertain realities: the thin-bearded, heavy-handed clinician, over the innumerable years, had done his best to kill me. In the year 1968 when the Vietnam conflict as it was dubbed burned grooves of pain and loss into my synapses. The synapses fired less often during that tragic year. Many young, heroic men sacrificed their lives for a cause that the common army soldier failed to comprehend. The D.C. Hawks composed top secret documents and used a variety of colored chalk lines on forest green chalkboards one after the other to strategize, to deploy troops and to hopefully win an unbeatable guerilla warfare far from the states, far from home. Young wives expected their newlywed husband and often newly minted father to return soon enough, after having given everything for the US patriotic cause; to rush laughingly with a great sense of relief into their waiting arms and to scoop up off the stony earth their never forgotten son, or daughter, their young family practically swooning over their homemade hero back from the overseas war. It didn’t work that way though, not exactly. The twenty somethings who were often the grunts, the privates, the guys who were assigned KP, peeling bag after bag of Idaho russet potatoes while cursing the upper echelon that brought him to a degraded part of a foreign land muttering that “This damn place is the worst, so f-In unfair.

Unjust.” Maybe the young husband and dad to Hillary and Frank, maybe he wasn’t far off. It was an unjust war, wasn’t it? The D.C. Hawks, they held all the cards and close to their vest at that! They were the old, entrenched men who sacrificed little, standing pointing and drawing on blackboards, deploying troops here and there, to take a bloody hill, or else maybe to charge a hidden enemy encampment, or else to retreat, hopefully to safety. Not always.

What was safe about being shot at by sniper fire from Chinese exported AK47s with seemingly endless ammunition control and a little boy or girl who sobbing walks easily into the midst of the longing men, who are safely behind their own lines; yet the little foreign kid has a live grenade tucked neatly in the elastic band of their cotton underwear? Seemed like an innocent kid, just needed some help. Maybe I should have been more loving. Maybe we shouldn’t trust any of the Viet Cong people. After all, we’re the invaders. This is their homeland. What right do we have to be here? Miranda, my wife, older by five years, and a baby on the way, me longing for hearth and home, barely out of Basic. I need her. And I love her. The really important thing, though, is that I know she loves me and we love baby on the way. I wanted to name her Zoe; that is if she’s a girl and Zak if he’s a boy. She wants to name her Molly, kind of because her name also begins with the letter M. But also because of our shared child’s song, a made famous Irish melody: “Cockles and Mussels” (Molly Malone). Both of us, though we didn’t meet until being in the same English essays class at the local community college, loved that song. Yet, we loved the song in a unique way; almost as unique as if we are snowflakes, not accumulated snowfalls. Miranda told me, actually, she sung Molly Malone to me, sonorous alto vocal but upbeat, in my elder parents’ living room in Kent, Washington; though we had moved there only for a short while when I was two because my dad was offered a position as an apprentice mechanical drafter for a start-up called THE LAY-OUT. Miranda has the kind of singing voice that even thousands of miles of separation I can hear as if we again are in my parents’ living room on that fated afternoon.

“Miranda, play the song again. I want to sing it with you,” I said. “You knew the song?” She looked wistfully at my clear blue eyes.

“Yeah. I’m surprised you never knew that. I can’t play guitar like you, but I can keep a melody.” I almost nudged her free shoulder in ply.

“I don’t doubt that. Okay.” Then she strummed the first guitar chord and we sang. Miranda and I and now the baby inside her womb. We are singing a song, a duet. We are singing of our shared love, about being newlyweds, about being the lovebirds others have rightfully called us, of our future together, of the eventual birth of Zoe, Zak or Molly or Mark John, or whomever he would be. We were hopefully going to know…together, hand clasped in hand, lips locked mouth to mouth. Resuscitated. Life gifted to dry dead bones. But, now. Damn.

Miranda I cried. I miss you. I am kissing your waiting mouth, pouty pink, swollen lips. I am tightly holding onto your hand because…I think I may never get back, back to you, back to our unborn child, back to the United States of America, back to the life we are destined to share together. As it is written in the legal marriage decree: “Till death do we part. Never leave nor forsake you. I promise Miranda to love and to hold you…” Oh God, why? I know it was me, maybe it was all me. I was the one who wanted to fight for the safety of the Chinese threat upon These Our United States of America. What if, just as in December 1941, the Japanese kamikaze pilots bombed the unsuspecting aircraft carriers and the defenseless Honolulu medical facilities because they could – sent by the Japanese Emperor Hiro, himself, as a formidable military invasion the likes that no one has experience so horrifically since? That was my overwhelming concern; for the lives of my wife and our unborn child, but also for the security of our vulnerable nation. Really, I don’t like that I am an idealist. I want to be practically minded like a business executive bent on amassing wealth and securities for the company he works for yet secretly desires to one day overtake the whole operation, become the new CEO, own more than fifty percent of the company’s shareholdings and expand, expand far into his stocks-controlled company, newly renamed to fit his agenda, and to make room for his ascendancy. Just like a monarch ruling in the 13th century, replete with a court jester (who could have been me) and nobles, feudal lords, thin, beautiful maidens, plenty of cows, several Bantam roosters, and more animals than even he wanted to number. Horses to ride as freely as he saw fit across the wide expanse which was from the royal stables to the outer lands, all under his watchful eye; the nearby smaller, conquered kingdoms making tribute. I digress.

I am an idealist, but I’m not hopeful. My nearest and dearest friend, the one who helped me through the obstacles course, I couldn’t have even graduated without his constant help and his care toward what then was only another soldier in Basic training, at dusk last night was shot clean through his Adam’s apple. Ironic. I don’t say curse words, not usually, but Shit! Alvin Yeltser is worm food. I know I’m being a bit graphic, but so is war. All wars are graphic in nature, not for little eyes and ears...that is, unless the little eyes and ears are attached to the kids who uncontrollably sob, finding an easy way into the base camp, where we all are relaxed, some of us smoking a Marlboro straight, some of us shooting the shit. And then, before anyone is able to prevent the tragic thing you can hear in the silent overly humidity in view of a green grove of bushes and trees overgrown and waiting like an African tiger to pounce on an unsuspecting weary, old, gray elephant getting a drink of water at the local watering hole. You can hear a pin drop! BAM.

The surviving company, a hodge-podge of army green canvas shirts and pants, that’s all any of us are over here, a bunch of selected numbers – by the D.C. Hawks, we, me included are on pickup duty. It was worse, way worse than scrubbing dirty potatoes and slicing them by hand using our army knife. Way more disgusting! Who in their right mind would volunteer for this kind of essential duty? I have never fully been in my right mind. I used to see a thin- bearded male, the one who I call the heavy-handed clinician. It was he who suggested I complete the many self-assessments, various personality and IQ tests, a whole battery of them. Yet it was also he that strongly suggested I am slightly off my rocker. He threw the clinical psychiatric diagnosis straight in my face. The three connecting words which would define most of the following years to today felt like shell shock. “I believe you have what we in the field call Schizo-affective disorder.” I wondered, what the hell is that? Dr. Cavanaugh went on to explain as if he heard my thoughts. “You have some separation from reality, perhaps because of the effects of trauma or perhaps from your parents’ genes, perhaps a combination of both.” I interrupted his next words. “If that’s the schizo- part, than what does ‘affective’ mean?” He smiled weak and wan and said, “I was getting to that. Affective for you means that you have Bipolar I as opposed-” I was growing uneasy. “As opposed to what, Dr. Cavanaugh?”

“As opposed to Bipolar II,” he finished the sentence. Then he stared at my face searching for a connection with my downcast eyes. The tan rug seemed to swallow me up in my fear.

“Reggie. I will help you overcome this illness if I am able. I will at the very least help you to manage its symptoms.”

“So what are the symptoms?”

“Like I began to say, the schizoid tendencies you seem to have lead you to believe what is false is real and perhaps what is real is false. Your grip on reality is not tight and mostly unshakeable like most people. This may have been caused by the extensive physical, sexual, verbal and other emotional abuse you received as a young child, you told me about, that originated with your family, mostly at the hand of your parents. The Bipolar I also known as manic-depressive illness “mixed states” is a tough one. Sometimes your illness will appear very much like Attention Deficit Disorder or ADHD and sometimes you feel as though you are on the Top of The World – you’ll start many exciting, evocative creative projects but you will get distracted and hardly ever be able to finish anything you have begun; whether a short poem, a story or the lyrics of a love song that Miranda would desperately like to hear, the Siren Song will almost always capture you and unfortunately, destroy the very essence of you; that is, unless you take the prescription for medicine I am writing down for you. Here. Any comments, questions or concerns, Reggie?”

“I don’t know anything about Lithium, or this other one, Navane – what are they exactly?”

“The Lithium is meant to be taken to control your rollercoaster-like mood swings. The Navane will help you to focus on the important things in life; not to be distracted by every enticing offer; to help you have a symptom management tool. Really, that’s all Lithium and Navane the neuroleptic are.”

That was the first time I had heard the word ‘neuroleptic.’ Instead of asking Dr. Cavanaugh its meaning I engendered an educated guess. I thought the “neuro” is defined as the brain like in neurology, the study of the brain. I guessed that –leptic like the word epileptic meant seizure, but I was puzzled as to how a “brain seizure” was going to help me manage or overcome my schizo-affective disorder symptoms.

I was to hear the fateful word Schizoaffective; not only that poisoned idolatrous, highly misunderstood and over used word, but Paranoid Schizophrenic, Narcissicism, BiPolar Classic 1 with psychotic features? Really, what? How can a mental illness, disorder, malady, dysfunction, set of character defects, have to do anything with a good thing like “features?” Who is the crazy one then. Maybe the psychiatric-medicine-prescribing CNP or psychiatrist? Maybe they are the ones who’s has a head that needs to be examined.

No doctor even seemed to pick up on the obvious: I am a survivor of guerilla warfare! I am one paranoid son of a “B”. I crouch at the sudden noises all around me. I hit the spring grown grass lawn or the stony ground so D’m’ed easily I am used to lying down on the job; so used to seeing life from a lower point of view as if I might be a dog. Oh, I am. A war dog, hence the dog tags hanging around my neck. The last ID in the theater, to be picked off so easily just like my war buddy recently killed, stricken to death by a clean shot driven through his young man’s Adam’s apple. !968. A sucky year. The year of my eventual demise. the lost year as I would come to know it as.

1968. The Lost Year in a Lifetime of Years.

My wife thinks I may be crazy, more crazy than the effects of PTSD from motherly neglect and fatherly hitting and punching. Why do you think I went into the army in the first place; it wasn't for my better health. I joined the army to get away from my parents. The only thing is I went deep into a worser situation. I can barely make sense of the war. Why am I here fighting a people I don't understand, who peek in and out of the bushes with a sniper rifle butt. And continually use little girls and boys to blow my buddies to kingdom come. I'm having a hard time acclimating to civililian life. I can't understand beyond the war. So many good guys have died. The whole thing troubles me.The Congs some not so nice guys call em gooks - they're not to blame. We were the invaders, attempting to overtake them in their home territory. They weren't kind. But war is hell: flame throwers, sniper shots to the head, grenade pins dropped unaware. There weren't jet strafing except by the US; but their was warfare on the ground that was nearly matchless. The pain inflicted on the US ground forces was not to be overestimated. The misery of head wounds and exploded limbs unparalleled.

I want Miranda but she is slipping from my grasp. She told me she doesn’t want to deal with my head wounds anymore. I tell her I was never shot in the head. She says, “That’s not what I mean. You are so broken. You can’t even forgive your Mom and Dad. Reggie, they did the best they could. I know you’ve heard that so many times but it’s true. I never meant to cause you harm. They didn’t either. You need to forgive them their inadequacies, for every mistake they ever made raising you, or, I won’t be with you. Your unforgiving attitude of them is a poison I won’t put up with.” I cried, “Miranda, hon’ I will get over the pain. Some day. The war killed me. It killed us.” Miranda faced me then as fully as she could, with enough tears in her eyes, to start a small river. “The war killed us.” The recognition of the fact made my head swim. Tears flowed and I looked over at Zoe who was shaking a plastic rattle while she stood braced up against the side of the foldable crib. “Zoe,” I murmured. I knew Miranda was going to leave me and that she would gain full custody of Zoe was likely too. After all I was a mess. Miranda was the sane one. She had the full time job. She owned the condominium. She paid for our only vehicle, a Ford Aerostar. That she worked as an elementary education instructor meant a lot to me. I earned government disability. It’s true I should be working and taking care of Miranda and Zoe. It is no excuse, well it probably isn’t an excuse, that the Viet Nam War inflicted more than just physical wounds and there were some of those. The psychological wounds were like deafening sounds of machine gun fire.

You aren’t telling me what to think. I have to break out of the bonds I was put in. Maybe I put myself in some of my bonds too. I do feel. Like I blame myself for some of who I am today. I want to lay down and curl myself into a tight ball. I want to sleep throughout the night and into the next day and throughout the night again. I could make a sport of it.

Laughter follows the pain which melts the brain.

Inconsequential doings

Closeted fears as bullets whirr

Don’t touch me there,

It’s my private parts -

Mommy said never let a stranger near.

I don’t know why I am writing this book. I have not published anything of significance yet. This book is mostly nonfiction - memories get garbled, facts get skewed. I cannot start with the beginning though I am tempted to do so. The beginning, my beginning, was so depressing, so oppressive. How can that be? Are not the moments in the womb warm and fuzzy, loving and relaxing? Well, no, not really. My mom and dad were at odds with one another. My mom’s ‘happily ever after’ dream had been smashed by her supposed white knight in shining armor. But that’s the beginning. I want to begin the story somewhere in the middle. The days of personal anguish when a biochemical brain disease was issued forth from the cosmos or God, pulsating throughout an unsuspecting body, with a name, schizoaffective disorder. Ugh.

Climbing stealthily into the gnarled oak tree, branches splayed in several directions I felt like kid superman. My Lois Lane at my side. I may have been six but I knew then that I would love her, the girl next door, for the rest of my life. I wasn’t crazy like Anthony Padua the boy who must have thought he could fly like Superman and jumped from his Dad’s third floor tenement house, a rental he had in South Chicago.

There was almost always something nuts going on in Chicago, even then. The Valentine’s Day Massacre occurred in Chicago. Gangsters littered the streets. A big fire practically burned the whole town down. But Chicago only got worse. The big town became a place I wanted to visit but never live there. Now Shy Town is a place I wouldn’t even want to visit: gunshot soaring through the air, night and day. Kids getting knifed. Bomb threats made good in elementary schools. Just like Gotham City, The Windy City needed a superhero. I am glad that I never moved to Chicago. My parents were as afraid of the big town on the Michigan River just as much as me. Maybe they were afraid for me.

Who will be Chicago’s savior? I decided to start a superhero gym of sorts. I live in Minneapolis, a Minnesotan mid sized town hundreds of miles north of Chicago. I knew Chicago needed superheroes to save its neck or Chicago would be underwater; not only would the city get a bad reputation that it couldn’t live down, no one would want to visit it, its tall skyscrapers, its stock and exchange building, its cool Lake Michigan waters.

“Lois?”

“Clark.”

I reached across a thick branch and touched her arm. “Its about time time to come down, don’t you think?”

“Yeah I suppose.” She smiled toward me and carefully embraced the trunk, sliding part ways down.

The years have gone strongly by. The autumnal leaves dropped from upward tree branches. Icy winters after their own fashion. Springy springs with the first Robin and its delicate light blue eggshell. Summer with the whirring of gluey green grasshoppers and garden toads, green frogs and painted turtles by the reeds and the slimy rocks.

There was the usual. Barbells. Chest strengthener. Chin up stations., even a swimming pool, albeit 10 by 20.

“Miranda, where are you, my love?” “Have I been bad because I lost my temper with you and Zak.”

“Reggie, I don’t know if I can ever forgive you. I love you but from very far away. Don’t follow me. You wouldn’t know where to look anyway. Give up on an Idyllic married life. I can’t let you see the kids. You scare them. You may not mean to but all the same. We’ll love you from a distance. Again don’t chase us down. You won’t easily find us. Good-bye.”

Those are the last words I heard in Miranda’s voice coming from somewhere inside of me; yet, I know those words to be true. I need to get to the gym and workout. I think I hate myself - for what I did to the two kids more than anything else, but also for destroying my already fragile marriage. Vietnam did me no favors.

Even so, Miranda was never to be blamed, not for separating from me after I returned from Vietnam, nor feeling burned out. Mental illness will do that to you.

The devil is Faust’s unwanted friend, drilling holes into his weakening soul.

And Faust lately has been ironically on Miranda’s mind, caught up in the grey edges of her ever titular mind. Maybe because her soon to be ex-husband was lost in the etchings of the Vietnam conflict, that which almost singlehandedly destroyed him. She didn’t know that he is a super hero. He barely knew it himself.

Chicago is not easy for him or for Miranda. His psychiatrist was not easy with Zak either, but that was okay. It had to be okay. Memories of Miranda and more importantly his faith in Christ had to sustain him, empower him to save others. He couldn’t be a super hero not without his faith.

Yet thank God that Miranda left him when she did and left him - left me, where she did. Saint Paul, Minneapolis. The frigid air surrounding me in the late Fall early winter. Before the wintry bitterness sets in for those creatures who desire a longer Fall, less ice and even, less snowfall. To some Minnesota Winters could be equated with the process of dying. I am not extraordinary or am I; yet I long to help, to guide, perhaps even to push people - God’s creatures - into safety, into health.

Miranda left me! Not for another man, but for what she deemed was her sanity. The divorce was messy like a typical divorce, but only because she wanted everything, including sole possession of our kids. I won visitation rights primarily because I had a long history of PTSD coupled with schizoaffective disorder. She plain just did not trust me with our kids, to have close, unsupervised visits. What made me mad was although I wanted to be involved with Daddy daughter events and father son events the court’s decisions fell in her favour.

I wish I could be a great thinker but my brain is mush. Thank God that He still accepts me the way I am, otherwise I don’t know what I would do.

[nremtbuddy]

Assessments explained - Scene size up

Scene size-up

BSI (Body Substance Isolation) / PPE (Personal Protective Equipment):

·         Gloves should be worn on every call

·         Masks should be considered for all patients with respiratory compromise, those who are coughing, and those with infectious illnesses. 

·         Consider goggles when suctioning, childbirth, droplet precautions, etc.

·         Consider a gown when tending to patients with droplet precautions, MRSA with open wounds, clostridium difficile (c. diff), any patient in active labor, or any call in which body fluid exposure is possible

·         Traffic vests should be worn on all motor vehicle calls

Scene safety considerations:

·         Maintain crowd control during public events

·         Police should be present on any calls involving potential/known violence

·         Police should be present on any calls involving potential/known intoxication or overdoses

·         Fire department and police should be present on all traffic accidents

·         Reflective traffic vests should be worn on all calls involving public roads, no matter the time of day

·         Take extra precaution during events involving severe weather

·         Assure any animals on scene are secured in another location

·         Follow all site protocols when responding to construction/warehouse incidents.

·         HAZMAT should be present during incidents involving chemical exposures

Nature of illness/mechanism of injury (NOI/MOI): What you have been dispatched for. Examples include chest pain, traffic crash, breathing problem, general illness, fall, etc.

Number of patients:The total number of patients present on scene. Consider calling for extra resources when dealing with more than one patient. If you are the first to respond to a mass casualty incident, begin triaging the patients involved.

Additional resources: Call for additional resources when dealing with any incident involving scene safety hazards. Request a lift assist from dispatch when dealing with patients in difficult positions / those that are too heavy for you to safely lift on your own.

C-spine precautions: Stabilize your patient’s cervical spine during any incidents involving potential spinal compromise. Examples include motor vehicle collisions, falls in which there was a loss of consciousness or injuries to the head/neck/back, or any patients who are unconscious from an unknown origin. Be sure to palpate the back of the cervical spine (looking for any deformities/instability/step-off) prior to applying a cervical collar.