#paying so much attention that you remember things in excruciating detail years after the fact is the same as loving

[lilacerull0]

sorry to break it to you, but the essence of elena and nino is that he compliments her writing. she thinks books are all she has and she has a complicated relationship with being the observer and not an active participant and she constantly doubts her abilities. she just knows writing is all she has and then he comes and says nice things about the thing that makes her her. it all comes back to that school article with them. i seriously have trouble understanding anybody who hates elena for loving him. like. you hate someone for the outstanding amount of love they have to offer. fuck you. we all know you wouldn't "get up".

[eat0crow]

Not So Dead

Summary: Kakashi’s regretted a lot of things in his life. More than he can ever hope to put a number on. He never imagined not being more philosophical would make its way onto the list.

Notes: Written for @amusl02 as part of the @akatsuki-gift-exchange. I”m so sorry this is late!

You siad you wanted angst so I tried to be emo about it :D

_____

Kakashi’s never cared enough to worry about whatever bastardization of the afterlife his soul would end up in.

Most shinobi’s don’t as a general rule. How can they when they stain their hands with enough blood to fill hundreds of small basins for a paycheck? Sure, there’s a few like the Hyuga and the Uchiha, whose clan lore glamorizes battle so much they have a clear picture of their soul’s destination. But the general population of nins are more than happy with understanding that wherever their souls go...it can’t be anywhere good, and leaving it at that.

Avoiding the afterlife is a much more pressing, present, concern.

But fuck if the information wouldn’t come in handy right about now. He’s regretted a lot of things in his life. More than he can ever hope to put a number on. He never imagined not being more philosophical would make its way onto the list.

He should have listened to Sasuke when he’d had been explaining, in excruciating detail, to Naruto and Sakura just where the departed go, last night when they set up camp. He would have, but the temptation to remind Sasuke that technically, he was oversharing clan secrets, had been at the tip of his tongue and—

Seeing Sasuke start to open up, even if it was over something morose like death, with progress that was downright groundbreaking for him, kept Kakashi from saying anything. He’d never heard the boy talk even a third as much. So what was the harm in him giving away lore.

Sasuke is the clan, it’s his right to decide what gets guarded fiercely and what gets given away freely.

Tuning the kids conversation out, while immediately satisfying, evidently, had been a mistake. Because Kakashi has no fucking clue where he is. Probably not hell? He feels like his soul would be a lot more tormented than it is right now, if it was. Definity not heaven. Not ever heaven. Not after Rin. Or Obito. Or Kushina. Or Minato. Or—

All he knows for a fact is that he isn’t alive anymore. He can’t be. And it’s not the darkness that’s telling him that, not the nothingness or the weightlessness or the cold that seeps into his bones and bites at him harder than the chakra exhaustion that knocked him out had.

No, it’s none of that.

No.

It’s Obito that lets him know that he’s no longer part of the world of the living.

Obito, who’s older than he was the last time Kakashi saw him, who’s his age, which makes sense and doesn’t at the same time. Death, he supposes, gets to make its own set of rules. Whatever they are, aren’t nearly as important as the fact that Obito is here.

Not as the boy Kakashi remembers, who’d been sunshine and summer, warm smiles and endless hope. Or even as any of the variants he’s spent years creating as the answers to half his ‘what ifs’.

No, he’s here and all hard edges. Mangled and torn and cold and so much more beautiful in that he exists. That he’s in front of him. Kakashi has missed him, more with every precious person he’s lost, and the longer he’s lived. Seeing him with his arms crossed, with an orange, swirled mask dangling from his side that screams Naruto, is like stepping back in time. He feels like a genin. Albeit one with slightly more trauma, not to say he didn't already have his fair share than.

The glare on his face is like none of the expressions Kakashi can remember from his friend, but exactly what he always imagined when thinking about them meeting again in the next life. It causes a weird sense of validation to flood him. How could any of the people Kakashi failed possibly do anything but hate him?

Saving Kakashi was the last thing Obito had done, and for what? Him to turn around and kill Rin? For him to shove his hand through her chest and carve out her heart with lightning? Obito loved Rin, in every way he couldn’t. Didn’t want to, for that matter. Kakashi was happy to let her love him, if it meant she was happy and stayed in his life. Existing in her life, being her friend, was enough—all he was capable of.

Rin, was a butterfly. She was always destined to outgrow him once she found someone who loved her back, in the way she wanted and not just in the ways he could manage. She deserved to. Rin was amazing and wonderful and worth so much more than team seven.

He’d have been more than happy to let her fly away, if fate hadn’t been a bitch that decided thirteen was old enough for her to die.

“Bakakashi.” There’s a warning in Obito’s voice, his eyes are murderous, and it goes against every single one of Kakashi’s instincts to stay where he is. Not that he thinks he can move much. Apparently dying doesn’t come with a healing session, he still has all his injuries, and he feels just as drained as he did in Wave.

“Obito,” he finally says, he’s doing nothing to disguise any of the complicated knot of emotion that’s had more than a decade to tangle up from his voice. Maybe Obito will hear it and be able to understand them more than Kakashi himself does.

All he knows is that he’s feeling something.

Whether it’s a good something remains to be seen.

Though, he doubts that he can be part of any something that’s good.

Naruto, Sakura, Sasuke, they’re proof of that. He’d worried so much about them getting to keep their childhoods, he hadn’t actually prepared them for the reality of shinobi life. Despite team 7’s history of cursed C ranks, he’d let them take this mission with nothing more than academy skills and D ranks under their belts. Fuck.

And now he’d gone and died on them. He’d left them behind in the middle of Wave with no one.

Desperately, he hopes they have the common sense to terminate their mission and return to the village.

Realistically he very much doubts they do.

“Pay attention to me, God damn it,” Obito hisses at him, voice sharp-edged and dripping with venom. He’s standing at Kakashi’s feet, kunai angled toward his throat. When did he get there? It’s hard to focus in wherever the fuck they are. “I guess some things never change, huh?”

“That’s not true,” he answers, he can’t stop himself. It’s Obito. No amount of post mortem introspection is going to prevent him from being at least a little bit of a bastard to him. “I’m taller than you now.”

Obito’s breath catches. He freezes, goes impossibly still, his fingers curling around the hilt of his knife so tightly his arm shakes. “You don’t get it, do you?” That’s not his angry tone. No, Obito's beyond that. This is his furious one. The one Kakashi never actually heard but always assumed he had. “Unbelievable. Fifteen years. After fifteen fucking years, here I am, a living corpse standing over you with a knife to your god damned throat and you still won’t take me seriously.”

“That’s not true,” Kakashi says, only, his words come out thick, slurred together around his tongue and the black spots thickening in his vision. “I always pay attention to you.”

How could he not?

Above him, Obito looks seconds away from dismembering him. He says...something. All Kakashi can hear is the rush of blood in his ears. Whatever cutting remark that Obito has to say—that Kakashi deserves to hear—is lost over the sound of his breathing.

He doesn’t want to pass out. Not when he’s just gotten Obito back and there’s a good chance he’ll wake up somewhere else, alone. He doesn’t know how this whole afterlife thing works. He’s terrified that if he closes his eyes, he won’t have the chance to find out.

It doesn’t seem to be up to him, though. The darkness keeps slipping into his vision, the cotton clouding his brain getting thicker with every second he forces himself to stay conscious.

The last thing he sees before he's swept away in the waves of chakra exhaustion is Obito’s face, hovering inches from his own with something that might have been concern flashing across it.

Kakashi’s next return to the land of the not so living (purgatory?), is a bit easier. There’s less of the bone-deep cold from before and more of the floating sensation. Like he’s stuck somewhere with just enough gravity to keep him steady in one place. He doesn’t hurt as badly, the only aches he feels are the ones he’s always had. It would be stranger for him to wake up with them gone, so he counts himself fully healed.

He pushes himself up into a sitting position, his muscles stiff and protesting even with the simple movement. His side is tender, but, considering Kakashi remembers his ribs being broken by that fucking overgrown sword, it’s nothing more than an inconvenience.

“It’s not the same if you roll over and die,” a quiet voice says, off to his left. Kakashi blinks, his mask is gone, so is his hitai-ate. All he can do is run his hands over his face and blink the last bits of sleep from his vision. Obito’s breath doesn’t catch when he turns to look at him, which makes sense, assuming he was the one to take his mask off in the first place. And really, who else is there to do it? “I have to be the one to kill you.”

“Sorry,” he manages after what feels like a small eternity. His brain hasn’t caught up with his tongue just yet. “You can. If you want to.”

Keeping his shoulders intentionally relaxed, his movements loose and lazy in a way that takes effort, Kakashi reaches toward his thigh, grabbing the tanto still strapped there. For a moment he weights the blade in his hand. It's standard issue, the same one given out to all jounin. Nothing remarkable about it.

Handle out, he offers it up to Obito.

And Obito stares, for a long endless moment that stretches into the next. Around them the landscape echoes the tension in his shoulders, the dark grey nothing rising up into jagged peaks, sharpening with every fraction of tension that makes its way into his frame. “Just like that. After everything, you’re not going to fight back?”

“I would,” Kakashi says, looking away first. “If it was anyone else.”

“Then why?” Obito asks, searching.

Kakashi cuts him off before he can continue. “Because you deserve to. Obito, I’m the reason you died, if anyone has the right to run a blade through me it’s you.”

Long, spindly fingers curl around the handle of the blade, and even though they don’t touch his skin, Kakashi can feel the phantom sensations of them across his hand. “I’m not killing you for me, dumbass.”

Kakashi swallows hard around the lump in his throat. He still doesn’t turn to face him. It’s weird seeing Obito with only a single Sharingan flashing red in his face. In a way, it’s a bit like seeing his own reflection mirrored back to him, and Kakashi has never been good with looking at his own face. “I know, and if Rin or Minato or Kushina was here I would let them kill me, too. But they’re not.”

“So what,” Obito scoffs, harsh and cruel as he throws the tanto sheath. “I’m the consolation prize? A get out of jail free card? I’m here so I might as well absolve you of your guilt like a convenient little escape-goat, is that right? Do you even care?”

Obito laughs. It sounds like a sob. Like something wretched from a wounded animal that’s hurting and has been hurting for so long it’s forgotten how to feel any differently. Kakashi hates that sound, he really really hates it.

Before he can help himself, Kakashi turns, grabbing the hand not clutching the blade between them in a white-knuckled grip that looks painful, and pulls. The tanto goes chattering forward and Obito is mashed against him into something that might resemble a hug and what feels more like a lifeline.

“Of course I care,” Kakashi says into the crown of Obito's hair. He smells like clay and metal and something not quite natural that doesn’t matter nearly as much as his warmth against his chest. “You’re not an escape-goat Obito. You’re the one I owe the most to. I’m sorry I couldn’t find some way to make it up to you before I died and ended up here.”

Against him, Obito stiffens further, pushing away with bony elbows that dig into his stomach until clawed fingers make their way into the skin of his shoulders. Obito holds himself there, arms-length away and propped up enough for Kakashi to have to crane his neck to make eye contact. “Wait. What? Kakashi, where the fuck do you think you are?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Kakashi says, doing his best to make his voice come out breezily. “I don’t know anything about the afterlife”s geography.”

Obito pinches his side, hard. “You’re not—Bakakashi—I’m not dead. Neither are you.”

“Wait, what?”

“How you—this whole time you thought you were dead?” Obito shakes him, throwing his whole body weight into moving Kakashi’s upper torso. “You were going to let me kill you a second ago!”

“In the metaphorical sense.” Kakashi raises an eyebrow at him, the confused look on his face natural with not even a bit of exaggeration. “I figured after you got your justice, I’d move on to whatever hell comes next.”

“You were bleeding when you came here. You’re sitting in a patch of dried blood right now.”

“I haven’t died before, I don’t know how death works.” Kakashi shrugs.

For all he knows the afterlife could just be a really bland version of...well life.

Maybe if he wasn’t recovering from the after-effects of what he now knows for a fact had originally been a concussion, he’d be a lot more suspicious. Probably not though, because even without the head injury he’d have a lap full of Obito and there is absolutely no way he could be skeptical about his living or dead status with his arms around the ghost of a boy he watched die.

“My heart's beating, you idiot.” Obito protests, reaching down and placing Kakashi’s palm flat against his chest. On reflex, Kakashi tries to jerk it away, the only time he ever touches anyone's chest is when he’s tasked with carving out their heart. Obito’s grip is crushing, though. He holds his hand there firmly in place, not allowing even a fraction of give. “Don’t you think It would be a lot more still if I was a ghost.”

Kakashi wants to say he doesn’t know. Wants to point out that he can’t feel Obito’s heartbeat through the overwhelming panic that's nipping across Kakashi’s skin—and fuck, if he didn’t already have enough triggers, he should have expected to have a little trauma surrounding this. He can’t get the words out of his throat, though. Not through his breathing, that’s coming out in harsh pants. Not over the panic attack that had no business ruining this and is a good chunk of time past due.

For his part, Obito just watches him through it. Immovable as he keeps his grip welded around Kakashi’s wrist.

Eventually, after however long time takes to move here, he forces his mind to steady itself and compartmentalize this into the little boxes in the far-off corners labeled do not revisit. When he finally does feel, not okay, he’s too shaky for okay, but solid, he makes the effort to feel what Obito’s trying to show him.

When he does, he’s met with the steady thump of a heart beating under his hand. It feels like a bird, beating its wings—and that’s enough of the fragile animal metaphors for today, thank you very much. “Oh. Oh you’re real.”

Obito blinks at him, and the final bits of anger that have steadily been falling away, drains out of him. “Yeah,” Obito breathes, letting go of Kakashi’s hand, finally, and slumping forward, back into his arms. “Yeah, Kakashi, I’m real.”

“You’re alive,” Kakashi whispers. His grip must be painful, but he can’t stop himself from tightening his hold. Afraid that Obito will slip away as some figment of his imagination the second he eases up. “You’re alive.”

“Come on now,” Obito huffs. Something hot makes its way to the crook of Kakashi’s neck. He can’t be bothered to check and see which one of them is crying. “You didn’t think I’d actually let Iwa kill me, did you?”

Yes.

Yes, Kakashi very much did. If he had suspected for even a second that Obito was still out there, somewhere, alive and whole, he would have hunted him down with enough vigor to make his ninken jealous.

But saying that feels cheap when actions speak louder than words and enough time has passed for anything along that vein to ring as hollow platitudes.

Kakashi thinks Obito expects him to get angry at him, to demand to know where he’s been for the last fifteen years. Don’t get him wrong, Kakashi wants to know, he really desperately does. But the answer isn’t nearly as important as the fact that Obito is alive and whole and with him, so instead he settles on asking, “Where is here, then.”

Obito lets out a breath, slumping impossibly more against him. “This is a part of Kamui. Somehow when you exhausted yourself, you managed to find your way into the pocket dimension created by the Sharingan. Since we share the same set, we can access the same place. You’re lucky I was already here. You really would have been dead if I wasn’t.”

“Oh,” Kakashi says, simply. He supposes, in a way it makes sense. Their Mangekyou can banish objects, it has to have a place to send them to. Maybe he caught himself in the reflection of Zabuza’s water prison.

Kaskshi closes his eyes, content to just hold Obito there. It’s not like he’s gotten the chance to be close to anyone recently, physically or otherwise. So while he’s hyper aware of every inch of skin Obito is touching, it feels good. In a reassuring, alive, kind of way.

They lapse into a comfortable silence, the only sounds around being their combined breathing which quickly takes the place of white noise.

Obito’s the one to break it, turning his face against Kakashi’s chest and looking up. “Hey, Bakakashi, if I asked to kill you right now, would you let me?” His voice is soft without the venom in it, with nothing to hide the uncertainty.”

Kakashi doesn’t have to think about his answer before he responds, “Yes.”

He’s not his father, he’s not about to throw himself down on his own blade just to run from his ghosts. But, he thinks if one of his ghosts, the one that’s not quite dead yet, wants him to be, that’s okay. It’s different.

“You’d really give me your life, just like that?”

“Just like that,” Kakashi agrees, because it really is that simple. For him at least.

He hopes though, that Obito will want to wait just a little bit longer to kill him. Kakashi’s waited so long to see him again, he’d hate to have to wait until the end of Obito’s life to do it. Though, that would be fitting, in an ironic sort of way.

“In that case,” Obito starts, moving to stand up. Kakashi helps him the best he can, supporting him with a gentle hand against his back even if he misses the warmth instantly. “Will you come with me?”

Part of Kakashi wants to ask Obito what he means, won’t he come back with him? Back to the village, to Konoha and….and a stone carved with the name of almost everyone that made the place a home.

A large part of Kakashi, the part that makes him bite his tongue, reminds him that Obito’s had fifteen years to make his way back to the leaf. Back to him. If he was going to return to the village it would have happened by now. No. If they’re going anywhere it’s going to be on Obito’s terms.

This time it’s Kakashi’s turn to chase after him.

So he doesn’t have to think about it before responding, “Okay.” The only thing truly holding him back is….Naruto, who won’t get another instructor who will look at him as anything but a monster and fuck, he can’t abandon him again, not after finally being allowed to see him. And Sakura who’s going to be flushed out as a paper nin, which is a complete waste of her potential. And Sasuke, who’s going to be snatched up by Danzo’s grimy hands the second he comes back to the village with no one to keep him in the light and away from the shadows and— “But I have some kids I need to pick up first.”

[shiteatinggrin]

Hi, so this is my contribution to my first jilytober, I wrote some canon fic, it is kinda sad so I guess you could call this angst? I don’t know, I’m not that good at categorizing fic. Anyways, here is a love letter to James Potter from Lily Evans because he just died under her eyes. Wrote this fast, so I can’t vouch for the quality of this. This is almost 3k of Lily being a sap, so enjoy! Find it here on Ao3.

Bastard with a shit eating grin

Do you remember our first kiss? I can still feel the cold air of winter seeping through the walls of Greenhouse Number Three and you and I laughing together. It was not an unusual thing anymore, but some people could have been surprised, because we had had some big feuds over the years, the Dormitories Dashing and Destroying Disagreement, the Inflating Inner Ear Incident, the Flying Fiona Fight and the Severus Snape Saga consisting of the big highlights. However frustrating it was, we always had fun together, didn’t we?

Now we were falling in love dutifully without realising we had always been meant for each other in some way. I was all colors: glorious red hair, pink cheeks, pale green eyes and horrendously yellow socks. You were all teeth: shining smiles, arrogant smirking, belly-laughing in a silent room or grinding them in concentration for the task you were committing to (hyper-focusing on) at the moment.

‘Oi, Evans, can I copy your homework?’ You would say that practically every day.

‘How about a please, Potter? Might do you some good.’ You watched me smear some soil on my neck when I scratched it and said nothing. I discovered it in Transfiguration two hours later. Crazy how we can only remember the smallest details years later and the big things just go right over our heads. I could only ever remember the small details with you, because whatever we said to each other was never important, only the talking to you part was.

‘Oh Lily, dearest flower to my heart that I worship beyond any rainbow, might I please please please see your diligently done homework so that I can rewrite it because, being the idiot that I am, I was off gallivanting with Sirius yesterday instead of being a good student.’ You added pouts and made doe eyes for good measure as if I wouldn’t already have grabbed the moon from the sky’s grubby hands every night if you had asked it.

I would stifle a smile and put some piece of parchment in your extended hand without even looking, sometimes it was the homework if I was feeling generous, if I were more in a creative mood I might give you a stupid doodle or some kind of letter that would say something like: ‘Dear Prongs, you are an asshat. Looking forward to our rounds tonight so I can kick your ass in Gobstones. Now listen to Sprout, will you? Lily’ with a stupid heart over the i that basically meant PS: I love you. Finally, I’d say something like:

‘I would have laughed, but your head might inflate so much you’d have neck pain for a week.’

You let yourself smile then and continued to jest me, hoping to wrench a smile out of the beast (you always did it literally two minutes later, it is funny how easy it is to win when you give yourself such small tasks).

But that day, amazingly, we broke out of our routine.

At night we would always hang out together in the common room with our friends and slowly the people would fizzle out, having gone up to their dormitories and I would stay on the couch with the urge to kiss you with some dumb excuse not to leave on the tip of my tongue. I painted my nails or read some book or talked to you extensively about something I’d learned recently and you would listen with concentrated eyes and a much too easy smile.

Then you would start talking and when you started some story it would never finish, even now you can’t even recall something as simple as Harry’s first smile without going on for five full minutes without stopping. In these nights I would try to look like I wasn’t paying too much attention to you, like I was detached from everything pertaining to your person, but being young and in love doesn’t exactly give you the best skills in subtlety and so you would ask me if I was paying attention and I would blush and you would make some quip about redheads and their skins and everything would go back to normal.

And out of the blue, when I was talking about getting some sugar quills next time we were in Hogsmeade and how difficult the Ancient Runes paper was, you kissed me. Your hands flew to my hair and mine to cup your face and you pressed your body hard against mine. I’d never seen you so hungry for anything before, it seemed like you had been starving for a thousand years before our lips found each other. I had kissed three boys before you, and none of them could compare to the feeling of ecstasy of your mouth against mine. No one will ever compare to James Potter, right? That’s what you used to say in fourth year when you made a particular lucky goal in Quidditch or when you caught the Snitch in mid-air even though you were a Chaser and we were in Potions classf. Is it weird that I miss that?

I don’t think there ever was a time when I didn’t love you, all electric hair and much too quick brain and hundred stupid nicknames that didn’t mean anything unless you explained them in excruciating detail and you would smile too much and talk too loud and walk too fast and I wouldn’t feel so out of place with you because I did the exact same things. Petunia was always prim and proper and I always tried to be like her and please everyone but you taught me how to be myself and how to blossom into my personality without even knowing it. With you I’ve never been too much, I was always just enough.

Everything always came so easy to you, and I’ve always hated you for it. Now I think that I can’t appreciate enough how you could always share that with everyone around you, that incredible luck that could get you out of the worst of predicaments. I guess it all caught up to us today, but I don’t mind now. I’ll love you forever, come what may.

My heart is full of wanted posters of you: dead or alive.

I can’t remember the first time I’ve really noticed you, because you were always in the periphery, doing stupid things and getting in trouble and beaming for no reason at all and the memory of your presence was impossible to shake, but I still remember the first time we really became friends. We were fifteen by the lake and my best friend betrayed me under the glistening sun, the following day I had the worst grade in Transfiguration I’d ever gotten. You found me crying by a window on the fifth floor and apologized a hundred times (which I couldn’t have cared less at the moment), but you still went and talked to McGonagall and she agreed to let me retake the test in the afternoon and offered me a biscuit.

In seventh year, a girl told me that she was so jealous of the fact that I was the only one that could make James Potter change and mature. As if your life revolved around me. I thought of your sick father and the fact that Sirius had appeared on your front door one day and never left your house and with a twinge in my heart thought of the war coming and I couldn’t believe my ears. With all this going on, and she still thought you’d only change for a girl?

I’m not proud of this, but I might have shouted at her and maybe, perhaps I was the one that sent a silencing charm her way, but who could really tell? Not her, because her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth.

I wonder if I ever told you that. Probably, because you know everything interesting there is to know about me. You even know the most boring facts about me, because they amuse you just the same. You know I like peonies the best in spite of my name and that my first kiss was with Snape when I was eight, you know that I wiped my mouth right after and didn’t know yet what love was. You know that my favourite band is Hate Potion and that my guilty pleasure is Celestina Warbeck. You know that I wanted to name our son Harry because of a muggle TV show I used to watch with Petunia when I was seven on Saturday mornings and that when I fight my favorite charm is Expelliarmus. You were at my side when I killed my first (and last) Death Eater and that I cried for a week afterward. You comforted me for five hours when Marlene and her entire family were massacred in their own home, the same one where I had spent a good chunk of my summers to avoid Petunia. You know that I only ever paint my toenails blue and that my favorite flavour of ice cream is mint chocolate chip. You know all about my relationship with my sister and how she used to be my best friend and that we used to dance in bathing suits around the sprinkler and fake being witches to make potions out of mud and flowers and how she never forgave when this dream became true for me but not for her. You know all about my failed relationships, with Tuney, Sev and my ex-boyfriend who left me because he didn’t want to be associated with a muggleborn. You know I’m absolute shite at drawing and that I can’t dance to save my life and you laugh at me when I’m drunk and try to follow Peter’s choreography to some dumb song I don’t know. Last year, you helped paint flowers all over my bookcase because I wanted it to be unique and just mine.

When Harry was born, you refused to sleep for two days because he was so cute when he slept against your chest, but you finally fell asleep while cutting onions for dinner and I had to intervene.

One of my favourite things about you is that I have never seen anyone so full of life. You smile like nothing has ever gone wrong in your entire life and you are more loyal than any Hufflepuff I’ve ever seen, you would die for any of us in a heartbeat and we would do the same for you anytime. My love for you is so big I wonder how it even fits in our little house in Godric’s Hollow. You painted our walls burnt orange because you said it reminded you of my hair and I wonder if it is weird to fall in love with you even more over some colour choices. You complete me because as much as you are a complete idiot, you still recommend the best books and are smart enough to plan the best pranks, but too smug to make anyone else take the blame. You had always been my favourite person in the whole universe until Harry arrived, but he is so much like you that it is like meeting you at a much earlier age. He has the same laugh as you, you know?

I cannot believe how brave you are, because traditional courage requires you to go into battle and protect everyone you love like a lioness does her cubs, but you have found the energy to keep going even trapped in this house with an infant without being able to help your friends outside. You go everyday against your most basic instincts and you manage to have so much fun with us, but I see the tired bags under your eyes and the fact that you lose your train of thoughts sometimes and I know that you’re thinking about the war and the security of the boys, I know they are your family and it would kill you if one of them ever fell into battle, yet you never complain, yet you never lose hope. I love you so much my feeble heart can’t contain it all. My love for you is as inevitable as the blue of the sky, as the oxygen in our lungs, as the passage of time, I love you so much that when I see you it is like coming home, your wild hair and round glasses and mischievous eyes and soft voice and much too long limbs and wide chest and calloused hands and smile like an answer to all my problems.

No one has ever made me feel as secure as you and now I know I have to be strong for you, because you are the one that’s fallen, like a marionnette whose strings were cut. The coffee stain on the right arm of your shirt is the last thing I will see of you, or maybe it is a bit of your wild inky hair. I will never be able to look at the night sky the same.

I can hear him in the stairs, and all I can think about is you and Harry this morning, my two favourite people in the world, sat on the carpet and puffs of colour coming out of your wand, your laugh coming out of his mouth, one single tooth poking out, little chubby legs shaking from laughter, the wand you stupidly left on the carpet (the wand you didn’t care wasn’t in your hands because you didn’t care if you died, you just wanted us to live). Your last gift to me was the most precious of all: you gave me the time to say goodbye to Harry.

‘Mama loves you. Dada loves you, Harry.’ That is the only thing I find to say, because it is true and my heart is breaking, I can hear it thundering, collapsing like a dying star, you are dead, I will die, Harry has to live. I cannot withstand the thought.

I have never loved anyone better than the two of you. Apparently I never will, but at least I have known real love, the one that comes from daily life, that never dies because it is kept alive by stupid little things that make us who we are. Crazy how we only remember the little things and the big ones just go right over our heads.

I will remember the smallest things about you, like the little scar in your left eyebrow, the weird placement of your thumb on your wand, the feel of your skin against mine and the way it tanned in the summer while mine just became redder and redder, the sound of your laugh when Sirius said something funny and the way you always pushed your glasses up your nose with your middle finger, the way you sit in any chair like it’s a throne, the way you answered questions in class without raising your hand, the way you held a book open when you were reading it, your last day where you wanted to make pasta and I wanted steak, the way you would mess with your hair not because you thought it would make you look like you just stepped off your broom, but because you were nervous or restless. On your good days it would stand flatter on your head and I had to pass my hand through it because otherwise it just didn’t feel like you. You laughed too much when Sirius decided to read Crime and Punishment to Harry as a bedtime story and your son wouldn’t go to sleep. You would tell him stories of your childhood disguised as muggle magical adventures and I became a knight, Sirius a prince and Snape a dragon. You would call my cat Fiona the ginger cat, as if Fiona wasn’t enough and she needed an extra title. I guess she was royalty after all. You always tried to make me believe that she loved you more than me, even though I’d had her since I was eleven and you once made her fly across the common room just to annoy me.

Do you remember this morning? The last time you ever kissed me? You made me eggs and tea for breakfast and sang some Beatle song for me in the most off-key voice. You stole the bacon from my plate, laughing from across the dinner table. I was so happy because you were in a good mood today, you didn’t seem to feel so trapped and it was Halloween and you were trying to convince me to dress Harry up as a muggle magician, which I thought was the worst joke you’d ever made. You kissed me on the mouth and we settled on a pumpkin costume. Your lips tasted of stolen bacon and orange juice (you’ve never been much of a morning tea person).

I have never loved anyone better, and apparently I never will.

The house is so silent now that you are gone. All I can hear are my own ragged breaths. Harry seems to think this is some kind of game. He is all that we have left now. All that will ever be left of us. To love is to create, right? We have created the most beautiful person in the world, it should be the only thing that counts.

I love you. I could try to make this poetic, the love thing, but I think the most poetic way it can be is on its own. I don’t know any words more powerful than I love you. I love you and you are dead. I love you and I will die soon. I love our son and he will live. Life is as simple as that. I love you and soon we’ll be together again. Miss you already.

[filmfanatic82]

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 19: Raven (V)

Raven stirs awake with the memory of Octavia still lingering on her skin. She rolls over, craving more, only to realize that she’s alone. 

The bed is empty.

Octavia is nowhere to be found.

Raven should be concerned. Deep down inside she knows it. But the leftover euphoria from last night’s events overpowers all other logical thoughts. A small smile slides across her lips as she takes a moment to relish in it.

This hadn’t been her first time.

No.

Her first time had unfortunately been with Finn. In the backseat of his father’s Audi after one of their standard Friday night dates. 

Which, in retrospect, wasn’t even an actual date, to begin with. Finn’s idea of a date meant meeting up with their usual crew at Dave and Buster's for a few hours of Street Fighter and overpriced wings. Then, if she was lucky, they would swing by 7-11 for Sluprees before being dropped back home. 

The whole encounter lasted only five minutes at most, including the time it took for them to semi-undress and for Finn to figure out how to put a condom on. 

It had been at best awkward, slightly painful, and the farthest thing from enjoyable. 

And yet, she had agreed to do it again... 

And again... 

More out of obligation than anything else. 

Because that’s what they were supposed to do. 

Or, at least, that’s what Raven thought…

Until that kiss with Echo.

The kiss that had pried her eyes wide open and revealed the real reason behind why she never felt quite satisfied with Finn. 

No. 

This hadn’t been her first time having sex. 

Far from it.

But… 

It had been a first. 

Of so many things.

Raven’s smile widens as her mind plays through the memories of last night. 

The first taste of peppermint chapstick, Octavia’s signature flavor.

The first feather-light touch of familiar fingertips, tracing invisible paths along the slope of her collarbone.

The first sensation of pleasure-driven flames, setting her every inch of her very being on fire.

The first time she has truly felt loved.

And that’s it. 

What’s been missing all along.

Love. 

Raven lets out a light sigh of content and then peels the covers back from her body and slides out of bed. She grabs a random balled-up sweatshirt from the floor, instantly recognizing it to be one of Bellamy’s. 

The sweatshirt had been a souvenir from the spring break trip Bellamy had taken with Jake last year to Athens Greece. A token reminder of just how geeky the raven-haired manchild truly was underneath his charmingly handsome exterior. He wore that sweatshirt religiously for a good six months, even when the weather didn’t call for it. Until the day it disappeared. 

Bellamy had sworn that Clarke had stolen it. Even went as far as ransacking her room, which resulted in one of their most epic fights to date. It was so bad that even Abby had had to intervene, grounding both Bellamy and Clarke for a month when all was said and done. 

But Raven had known better.

Clarke hadn’t taken the sweatshirt. 

It was Octavia. 

She had been 99.9% sure of it. 

Octavia was always taking Bellamy’s clothes. Never enough, though, for him to notice. Just a t-shirt here and there. Or sometimes a pair of basketball shorts or an old pair of jeans. And she always put them back after a while so that no one ever was to grow too suspicious.

Raven slips the sweatshirt on and instantly is overwhelmed by the comforting scent of sandalwood and vanilla. 

“Octavia,” Raven whispers like a prayer. She buries her hands into the front pocket of the sweatshirt and then takes a long, hard look around, not quite sure what to do next. 

Going back to bed would be the most logical move, especially given that Raven can feel the throws of an epic hangover just on the horizon. But she already knows that sleep won’t come easy. Not without Octavia.

So instead, Raven continues to wander around the bedroom, casually taking in every last detail. At first glance, there’s nothing out of the ordinary. At least not to the average onlooker. A typical teenaged chaotic mess of dirty clothes, unopened textbooks, and an array of other items haphazardly strewn about.

But Raven is anything but the average onlooker. She sees beyond the ordinary teenaged facade and recognizes the elements around Octavia’s room for what they truly are… 

Traces of a person.

A person that Raven has seen flashes of before but hasn’t yet to fully meet in the flesh. 

The person that Octavia is meant to be.

Raven makes a round of the room and then starts to head back towards the bed when something catches her eye. A lone DVD box. It sticks out, halfway buried amongst the mess of books and papers on Octavia’s desk. It wouldn’t be so strange except for the fact that she knows that there isn’t a DVD player to found in all of the Griffins' house. 

Raven moves closer to get a better look. She brushes away a few stray papers and suddenly the realization blindsides her, causing her heart to swell to insurmountable levels.

It’s a copy of Just One of the Boys.

The exact movie they had been watching during that infamous afternoon in the Griffins’ basement two summers ago. The afternoon where their friendship first started to morph into something more… Something undefined and unknown.

Raven lovingly traces over the title letter by letter as her mind lingers within the memories of the moment. 

She doesn’t need to ask the reason behind why this specific DVD just happens to be sitting on Octavia’s desk. Raven already knows. It’s the same exact reason why she didn’t hesitate or second guess the events of last night.

A look of sudden inspiration crosses Raven’s face. She grabs a nearby pen, pops open the DVD, and then scribbles a message on the insert inside. Raven takes a minute to reread her handiwork before closing the case once again and tucking it safely back into the mess of papers. 

PING.

PING.

PING.

The three distinct pings cut through the early morning silence of the bedroom, instantly grabbing hold of Raven’s full attention. She moves back towards the bed, scoops up her phone, and swipes the screen. And suddenly…

The comforting sensation of utter contentment that Raven’s been basking in slowly transforms into one of gut-churning confusion.

Monty: Hey! Are you up? I’m still at Murphy’s and Octavia just showed back up. She and Finn are getting into it. 

Monty: Shit. It’s turning ugly. Real ugly. I don’t know what to do. Murphy’s passed out and Jasper took off to go get more beer an hour ago. 

Monty: Rae? Please say you’re up. You need to get over here RIGHT NOW! 

“Shit,” Raven exhales. She fires off a text back and then with a sudden sense of urgency starts to search for her clothes.

__________

There it is again.

The sharp twinge of flames. Like a red hot poker jabbing over and over again into the already tender flesh of her lower back. 

Raven tries to shift her position but it’s of little use. The flames of pain continue to radiate outwards from her back, extending down until the point on her upper thighs where all sensations simply cease to exist. 

There’s no fight against it. 

That much she’s certain of. 

Raven’s been attempting to stave off the pain for well over the last hour or so now. Experimenting with a variety of remedies in hopes that at least one of them will provide her with a brief respite. But so far, nothing has seemed to work. 

Raven’s eyes wander over towards the red button resting against the side of the hospital bed. It taunts her with its ease and simplicity. 

One push and no more pain. 

That’s all she needs to do.

But…

Raven swallows the dry lump residing in the back of her throat and shifts again. Another sharp pang explodes against the length of her spine bringing an instant set of tears to her eyes. Raven inhales, slow and steady. 

It’s getting worse. 

She needs to push the button. 

But if Raven pushes it, she might as well kiss her clarity goodbye. 

Morphine comes with a price. 

Sometimes less and sometimes more, but there’s always a price to pay.

The first time Raven learned this lesson was when she was ten years old. Three broken ribs, a fractured radius, and a half-dozen gashes across her chest and back. That’s what it took. She had been living with the constant pain for two full days until she finally had broken down and told Clarke the truth. 

Raven doesn’t remember much after that first shot of Morphine. It had come as a surprise, hidden amongst the countless rounds of poking and prodding by nurses and doctors. Each one asking the same painstakingly hard questions over and over again until she couldn’t answer them any more.

Raven had spent the better half of a week lost deep within a Morphine haze as the world around her played out in peculiar, dream-like snippets. There was no sense of time nor place. Just moments. Each one jumbled and out of order as if someone-- or something-- was wreaking havoc within the confines of her brain.

And coming off of the Morphine had been nothing short of a journey through hell as well. With sudden bouts of excruciating pain and physical anguish that no adult-- let alone a child-- should ever have to suffer through.

She should press the button.

But Raven simply can’t bring herself to do it. Not when she more than knows the pay she’ll pay for it.

Raven pulls the hospital sheet up over the button so it’s out of sight and then lets out a slight sigh of relief. She shuts her eyes and forces in on her breathing as a momentary calmness washes over the room. 

All she can do is breathe. 

A few seconds pass and then--

CLICK.

The sound of the hospital door shutting cuts through the silence, bringing Raven back into the present. Her eyes pop back open and lock in on a set of familiar hazel eyes staring right back at her. And, without any warning, Raven’s stomach plummets to the floor. 

Anya.

Anya Woods. 

The woman that she has called home for the last three years.

“Hey,” Raven says breaking the silence.

But no words come in return. Instead, Anya stands there, back against the hospital door, with her unreadable mask secured upon her face. She stares at Raven, never once breaking eye contact not even to blink. It’s intense and yet in a strange way comforting. 

Raven goes to prop herself up and instantly grimaces as a flash of white-hot pain sears across her body. She falls back into the confines of the pillow with an audible thud. 

“Fuck…” Raven exhales, blinking away a stray tear or two then looks back over at Anya to discover two matching sets of tears carving a path down her cheeks as well. “Anh.”

Anya drops her head down at the mention of her name and suddenly Raven wishes more than anything that she could get out of her bed. The distance between them, although trivial in actual length, is beyond suffocating. It lays heavy and dense, encompassing everything in its wake.  

“Anya,” Raven says with a bit more softness to her voice. 

And then she waits again. 

If the last few years with the dirty blonde has taught Raven anything, it’s that no good will come from rushing. 

Anya needs time. Time and patience.

Now more than ever before.

Another twinge of pain shoots through her back like a sudden jolt of electricity. She grits her teeth as her eyes roam over to where the red button is hiding. The temptation is brutal at best. But she can’t give in. 

No.

Not when there’s a conversation just on the horizon that they’ve been dancing around for well over the last year.

Raven needs to be lucid.

If not for her sake then for Anya’s.

“You died.” 

Those two words slice through the silence and hit Raven dead on, momentarily dulling the unrelenting pangs of pain radiating throughout her body. So simple and yet so powerful. 

Raven blinks as her mind scrambles to recall the fragments of memories from the aftermath of the crash. But there’s nothing there. Just blank swaths of lost time as if someone has gone and haphazardly erased bits and pieces.

And yet, Raven still knows it’s the truth. Even if the memories are nowhere to be found. She can feel it, deep within her bones. 

“I know,” Raven responds.

“Twice,” Anya says and Raven nods. “In the ambulance. I was there. I wasn’t supposed to be, but I fought them on it and they gave in. I watched them shock you back to life, twice.” 

“Anh..” 

“I almost killed you.” Tears fall harder from Anya’s hazel eyes, fast and unrelenting. 

And all Raven can do is helplessly watch from the confines of her bed as Anya finally caves to her pent-up emotions, bound in place by the invisible threads of pain. “Anh, it’s okay. Please… Come here.”

Anya shakes her head. “I almost killed you, Raven.”

“I know, but--”

“No, you don’t. You don’t know. I… I fucked up. I fucked up so badly and it almost…”

“But it didn’t.” Raven blinks again, ignoring yet another white-hot spasm. “I’m here. See? I’m here and I’m okay.” 

“You’re not.” 

“Anh…”

“You’re not okay.” Anya motions around the room as she begins to spiral down the rabbit hole of long-buried thoughts. “This is not okay… We’re not…” 

Anya doesn't need to finish the sentence. Raven already knows what word should come next. 

Raven licks her lips and nods again, this time, with nothing but raw honesty within her eyes. “No, Ahn. We’re not okay. We haven’t been for a very long time.” 

And the floodgates finally burst open, turning Anya’s steady stream of tears into full-blown sobs. “Raven, I--”

“Anya Woods, get your ass over here now.” 

Anya pulls herself away from the confines of the doorway and makes her way across the room as she continues to give in to the gut-wrenching sobs. She curls up into Raven’s open arms and the Latina engulfs her in a soothing embrace. 

It’s not an ending nor a reconciliation. Nor any other definable type of moment. 

It’s just a release. Like a deep breath of air that, up until this very moment, neither one of them has realized they have been holding on to.

Moments pass by and ever so slowly the sobs start to taper off until only a few stray tears remain. Raven runs her hands through Anya’s hair, gently stroking the dirty blonde curls like she used to do years ago back when they first started dating. 

“I’m so sorry,” Anya whispers against Raven’s side.

“I know. I am too.” 

“I never meant for this to happen… Not to you.” Anya buries herself deeper and the flames of pain once again radiate their up and down Raven’s back. But she ignores it. 

This…

This moment is just too important to be interrupted by something so trivial as pain. Raven has been living with some variance of pain all of her life. 

A few more moments of it now won’t kill her.

“I know you didn’t… But it did.” Raven licks her lips and exhales, pushing the pain out through her mouth. “And it could’ve been so much worse.” 

Silence again. 

And Raven waits. She continues to run her fingers through the dirty blonde curls, allowing the simple action to speak for her. Words are not what Anya needs… Not now.

“I wasn’t drunk.”

Raven nods as her fingers maintain their pace. Steady and reassuring.

“I wasn’t… I had had a few drinks earlier. Just to help me try and sleep, but… But I wasn’t drunk. I swear. I…” Anya trails off and wraps her arm tighter around Raven, like a little child clutching to their security blanket. 

And in that moment, it clicks. That’s the real crux of their relationship. 

Security.

They had been each other’s security during a time when everything else in their world was nothing more than unreliable.  

But now… 

Now they need to learn how to operate without the security of a safety net. And if they fall, they fall. 

Because although security is a form of love, it’s not the right type of love. At least not for either one of them.

“Anh…” Raven starts but is cut off by yet another fiery lash of pain. It jolts through every inch of her body, stronger than ever beyond. Almost blinding in its raw power. 

“Rae?” Anya lifts her head in sudden concern. “Rae? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing...” Raven replies through gritted teeth and swallows back down the aftershocks. “Just sore. That’s all.” 

“God, I’m so sorry… I promise, once we get out of here, I’ll cut back. No more drinking on weekdays. Or by myself. And I’ll get some help too. Maybe try that counseling that Miller recommended. I know I said I would do it months ago, but this time I will for real. Promise.” 

Raven nods but can’t bring herself to respond. The pain, both physical and emotional, is too much to bear. She inhales a deep breath as she fights with every ounce of strength she has left to main calm and lucid. 

But the siren song of morphine grows louder by the second.

“Anh,” Raven pauses to lick her lips again as she takes a moment to mull over her next words. She needs to choose them wisely. Pick the wrong ones and Anya will shut down or even worse… 

“You don’t believe me… Do you?” Anya says with a sudden look of disbelief.

“I do…” Raven responds.

“But, you don’t.” Anya suddenly peels herself off of Raven and stands back up as her inner panic and fear take over. “You don’t believe me at all. You never do.”

Another lash of fire. 

Raven can’t help but give in to the muscle spasm as her body silently screams for relief.

“I believe you, but--” 

“But you don’t! You think I’m just giving you lip service again. Like last time.” 

Beads of sweat start to form along Raven’s hairline. She grits her teeth and then shoves back down yet another tidal wave of pain.

Time isn’t on her side.

“Anh… You need help.” 

“I know. I said I’m gonna get it.” 

“No. I mean real help.” 

Anya stares at Raven for a moment or two as she lets the meaning of those words sink all the way in. “I don’t need rehab.” 

Raven remains silent but not by choice. The flames have all but rendered her useless. They dance their way across her nerves, engulfing everything in a blaze of white, hot pain. 

She can’t fight it anymore. 

It’s too much.

Raven grabs hold of the red button and slams her thumb down on it. 

“Rae?” 

Raven wants to respond, but her words are long gone. Instead, she closes her eyes and waits for the familiar relief from a long-forgotten friend. 

1… 2… 3… 

“Rae? What’s wrong?” 

But nothing. 

The flames grow higher.

4… 5… 6… 

“Raven!”

Raven jabs the button again, more desperate than ever before.

7… 8… 9…

“Raven! Shit! Talk to me!” 

Raven tries to take a deep breath, but it’s too late. The flames have already reached her lungs. 

“Help! Please! Somebody!” 

And then the world around Raven fades to white as she finally gives in to the fire and let it consume her whole.

[lovemesomerafael]

Here Goes

I don’t even know what I’m saying.  I’m just babbling at this point.  I feel good. I’m so relieved.  I’m actually smiling.  I guess that’s why I can pretend to be so flirty and brave, talking to Peggy. Because I’m not paying the slightest bit of attention to the conversation.  I’m watching the ice come up toward me.  I’m watching it and I know it’s gonna happen so fast it won’t hurt and I’m not even really seeing it.  I’m seeing Bucky.  I’m seeing him smiling at me after he’s hit me with some insult or another.  I’m seeing the way he looked at me when I pulled him off that table in Zola’s lab.  Like he knew I would come for him.  

I know it’s wrong that I didn’t even try.  I know that. I guess I musta stored up some karma points or something because I get to check out saving a bunch of people. This way, people won’t know, not the way they’d have known if I’d jumped after Bucky the way I wanted to.  Oh, who the hell knows.  Maybe they wouldn’t have figured that out, either, but I was just too stunned and that stupid fucking survival instinct kicked in and I kept holding on.  

Three days.  That’s how long I could stand living in a world without him.  That’s my limit.  He’s gonna give me so much shit about that.  I’m gonna be listening to him say, “You can’t live without me” for all eternity. And I’m good with that.  I’m so good with that.  

He’ll throw his arm around my neck like he does, and he’ll laugh into my face, and I’ll probably blush – why is he the only one who can make me blush, when he’s the one who gives me the most shit about it – and then we’ll go find some trouble to get into. Like old times.  Like it should be.  

I knew he wasn’t dead when the 107th was captured.  I knew I’d feel it, and I didn’t.  Which is why I went and got him without a second thought.  Honor, duty, rules, those are all things I care deeply about in my soul, and I’ve done some stuff that gave me an almighty pucker in the name of those things.  But those things were lookin’ at my taillights when Bucky was in trouble.  

The ice is a pretty color. I like that.  It reminds me of his eyes.  Shit, he’s gonna tease me about thinkin’ that.  It would probably freak people out if they could see me right now, smiling and chuckling in the cockpit of this airplane speeding toward the ice. They’d think I’m some sort of suicidal freak.  

I’m not, of course. Just a guy who can’t live with half his soul missing.  A guy who, as it turns out, will follow his best friend anywhere.  Even here.  Funny, I never realized people did this kind of stuff for love.  I thought it was only despair or something.  Well, now that I think that, I guess this is kind of despair, too.  

Except I don’t feel like I’m despairing.  I feel excited.  Happy again. Happy like I know I would never have been able to ever feel in this life again without Bucky in it.  Guess I shoulda known.  If he’d have had time, he woulda wished me to be happy.  And I’d have said, “How can I?  You’re takin’ all the happy with you.”  He woulda punched me for sayin’ that.  But he’d have understood.

Well.  Here goes.  See ya’ in a few, Buck.

 **************

This hurts.  Fuck, this hurts so much.  Why are they doing this?  They’re Americans, too, I can hear their accents clear as day.  Americans torturing Captain America.  Maybe I’m in Hell.  Oh, shit – maybe I killed myself and that’s a sin and I’m in Hell.  But I didn’t kill myself!  God knows that!  I just saw a chance to save people and stop a bully and I couldn’t not do it! Yeah, I was tryin’ to get to Bucky, too, but-

No,  Oh, please, God, no.  Bucky.

I killed myself and now I’m in Hell and being tortured by Americans and I will never, ever, for eternity, get to see Bucky again.  Fuck it. I’m gonna lean into the torture.  Give me something to think about other than the real pain.  This excruciating burning and unspeakable crushing ache everywhere as my body  thaws, that’s what I’ll think about.  And, let’s be real, it does kind of hurt.  

At some point, I musta passed out, or whatever.  Can you pass out in Hell?  Whatever. Now I’m in some kind of, I don’t know, apartment or hospital room or something.  There’s a baseball game on the radio.  I remember this game.  I remember it because I was there with Bucky.  

I’m about to yell and beg for the torturers to come back, because I cannot think about that.  Some girl comes in.  She’s all wrong.  Everything about this is wrong.  And she’s apparently not gonna torture me.  Fuck.  Then I’m out.

************

Huh.  Not technically Hell, then.  New York in the future.  Hell with more advertising.  

Well, now at least Bucky can’t tease me that I can’t live without him.  Apparently, I can, and I have to, even though I would give anything, anything to be dead and with him.  I’ve thought about it, and I realize I dodged a bullet.  Almost blew my chance to ever be with Bucky again.  I can’t kill myself.  Because if I do, then I really will be in Hell (although what could it possibly have to offer that New York in 2011 doesn’t?) and I know for an absolute, bedrock fact that Bucky isn’t in Hell.  

All I can do for the first month is cry.  When I’m not screaming myself awake from nightmares, that is.  

Fucking Nick Fury wants me to join some kind of crusader outfit.  I don’t care. I really don’t.  As long as my uniform can be a little more dignified than the last one, sure.  I’ll be your damn Captain America.  Captain fucking broken-hearted, lonely as all hell, absolutely nothing to lose, please kill me America.  Pretty sure you don’t understand who you’re dealing with here, pal.  I’m as likely to run in front of a bullet with my arms spread than to use this weirdly light shield.  

************

Motherfucking survival instinct.  Motherfucking, damn it all to hell, why aren’t there more swear words, jumpin’ fucked-up shitty useless survival instinct.  It’s why I couldn’t jump after Bucky.  And now I’m putting one foot in front of the other and I feel nothing but towering guilt because I’m surviving and making a life without Bucky that I absolutely do not want and it hurts so fucking much I sometimes fall to my knees with it.  But then some bad guy gets a hard on for world power or some ugly-ass aliens tear a hole in the sky and drive their Steampunk whales through it and I gotta get to work.  So I go.  What the hell.  I can’t kill myself, can’t even make myself let me be killed.  Can’t get back to the real world where things make sense and there’s real butter and no fucking cell phones.  Shit, in this future, even the swells dress like bums.  Bucky would laugh his ass off.

So here I am.  Captain America, bleeding to death whether I’m wounded or not, but I just can’t seem to fucking die.  I just keep on saving the world because I’m Steve I-can-do-this-all-day Rogers, and apparently I really do like getting punched.  

*************

I wonder how long I’ve been staring at this little mark on my shield.  Don’t care, just wonder.  I know the pain’s driven me crazy now, because I’ve been sitting here, looking at this little mark on my shield for so long the sun’s gone down and there’s a pink glow on the horizon again, because I know he made it.  

And it makes me so happy I can’t stop crying.

Bucky is alive.  Bucky is alive when he can’t possibly be.  I don’t understand it, but I also don’t give a rat’s ass how it happened.  I just know Bucky is alive and I’m gonna find him.  

He also wants to kill me. They keep trying to tell me that’s a problem.  Only problem I see is he’s not right here next to me.  Everything else?  Details.

************

Shit, he’s gotten good. I know technically he was trying to kill me, but I’m so fucking proud of him.  I keep thinking of stuff he did, and I just wanna jump up and down and cheer for him.  I can’t stop smiling, thinkin’ about it.  Anyway, how else would I know how unbelievably strong and fast and lethal he is now? Nobody else coulda given him the workout I did.  Of course, nobody else woulda let him live, either.  OK, actually saved his life, but the brass doesn’t need to know that.  And then he turned right around and saved mine back.  ‘Cause he’s Bucky.  And that’s what we do.  

That’s right.  I said smiling.  I haven’t smiled since 1944.  I’ve probably showed my teeth a little, it’s part of the stuff I have to do to keep people from seeing who I’ve been since I lost Bucky.  But I never smiled until I found him again.  Well, I haven’t found him yet. What I meant is, since I knew he was here to be found.

Always before, I wanted crises to come so I’d have something to distract me from missin’ Buck.  But now that I know he’s alive, the world needs to simmer the fuck down because I gotta find him and it’s the only thing I care about. I keep doing my job, because I’ve got this ridiculous urge to do the right thing all the time – oh, when he finds out all the inconvenient shit I’ve done because it was the right thing, I’m never gonna hear the end of it – but my heart and my head are somewhere else.  I don’t know where.  But I’ll find him.

Tony Stark be damned. I love him; he’s my comrade in arms, my friend, my brother, and it hurts like hell to be split from him.  But he’s so wrong about these fucking Accords.  God knows I know about guilt, but Tony’s been blinded by his and he’s putting his trust in the wrong people.  And as much as I care about that, I care more – infinitely more - about Bucky.  And Tony and the rest of the Avengers standing with him are just gonna have to do what they’re gonna do.  Same with the rest of the world and all the governments and nations trying to stand in my way.  Because Bucky’s alive and he’s in trouble and I will get to him, no matter what I have to do. Or who I have to do it to.

*************

I’m lookin’ right at him. And he’s lookin’ at me.  I didn’t know it was possible, I guess I’m a self-centered asshole, but these years have been much harder on him than on me.  Nobody’s stolen my mind and made me into a murderous robot fighting on the wrong side.  Believe it or not, though, there’s an upside.  He only had a few seconds to realize we were bein’ separated, and there’s something to say for that.  The rest of the time, his body was – well, his body was goin’ through what my heart was. Let’s leave it at that.  But his mind, his heart, they were at least safe from the memory of that crevasse and the seventy-odd years of anguish that followed.

I had to do a lot of shit to get us here.  I had to seriously piss off a whole hell of a lot of people, some of whom I love.  I may have burned down some of my most beloved friendships.  And me and Bucky, we got a metric crapton of destruction to answer for.  Don’t care.  There’s one man that’s worth all of that, and anything else I ever have to do.  I’d do it again.  Twenty times over.  A million times over.  As many as it took.

Because let me tell you some universal fucking truths.  Nobody’s ever gonna hurt Bucky again.  And I’m never gonna leave his side.  Somebody swings at him, they’re gonna hit me because I’m gonna be there, standing between him and anybody ever fucking touching him again.  And then they’re gonna get hurt.  Anyone ever tries to get between us again, I will go on a rampage the likes of which this world has never seen.  Is it wrong that I’d use all the expensive serum and rays and whatnot to defy everyone on the planet and burn it the fuck down to protect Bucky Barnes?  I absolutely do not give a shit.  Now that I know what comes after he falls, I’m gonna jump.  Every time. My damn survival instinct’s not backward anymore.  And the more I learn about what they’ve done to him, the more I hope there’s more of Hydra out there somewhere for us to kill and kill and kill until he feels clean and safe and whole again.  

Right now, he doesn’t. Right now, he’s askin’ to be frozen again, because he doesn’t trust his own mind.  It hurts.  It hurts so fucking much it’s takin’ all of my superfuckingsoldier strength not to scream with the pain of it.  But it’s what he wants.  It’s what he says he needs to feel safe, and so that’s what we’re gonna do.  We’ll get him to Wakanda where they think they can heal him.  And by we, I mean me and whoever else, but always, always me.  I will do whatever he asks of me every day for the rest of our lives, and if this is what he wants, this is what he gets, but I will never, ever be separated from him.  Even when he’s in the cryo bed, I’m gonna be right there with him.  

The part of him that’s still all Bucky gets that.  Feels the same way.  He says it all the time, even when he’s making fun of me, callin’ me a barnacle and sayin’ next I’m gonna get a pouch and carry him around like a baby kangaroo.  Because I can’t get close enough to him.  If I can’t feel him touching me, he’s too far away. Sometimes it’s so bad I swear I’d climb into his skin with him if I could.  

But right now, he’s so skittish.  He’s so broken and exhausted and sad.  I have to give him room, and I do, because that’s what he asks me for.  But it’s hard.  I want him to be all Bucky, all the time, like he used to be before those assholes got ahold of him.  And I sure the fuck don’t want to hurt him in any way, ever.  That’s why I’m sittin’ here now, looking in his eyes while they do whatever it is they do to freeze a guy.  And I’m tryin’ to think of all the terrible icicle jokes I can, to make him laugh and let him know that, no matter what, it’s still him and me, together, till the end of the line.

[punkpoemprose]

Siege of Arendelle- Chapter Fifteen

Hey all, sorry this took so long! I actually proofread something for once and did some tweaking that pushed my original planned post date back dramatically. That being said, this chapter needs some trigger warnings. So that being said: TWs for mentions of not eating, vomit, and death.

This is more set up for what’s coming. I promise things are going to get better soon!

Universe: Canon- Post Film Rating: M (Mature) Length: 3400 Words

Previous Chapters

Sometimes Anna’s persistent belief in him felt like a curse. She’d said nothing about the night before, and he hadn’t mentioned what he’d seen in the frost. She trusted in his judgement and when he had told her that everything would be okay, she’d believed him. He felt guilty for saying it again after she’d been asleep, because while he’d meant in the first time around, by the time he has returned to the tent, knowing he was being observed but not knowing by whom or why, he’d said it more as a prayer than a promise.

Yet they were both alive and well and so far, it hadn’t been a lie of any sort. Everything was alright, they’d packed up camp at first light and had enjoyed a breakfast of bread and jam both to lift their spirits and because the fresh loaves she’d baked before they left home were going to be the first to spoil on their journey.

The morning’s light had made the wood marginally less terrifying, and the occasional sound of a bird chirping combined with the rhythmic sound of wagon wheels and Sven’s hoofbeats did much to set a warmer mood. Kristoff tried to push the memory of the night before to the fringes of his consciousness and it was easier than he had expected it to be due mainly to the fact that Anna was humming a tune at his side that he couldn’t quite place.

 “What’s that?” he asked, his first words to her since they’d finished their food and set off for the morning.

 Anna for her part was a bit startled by his voice interrupting the silence, and she jumped as if she had forgotten for a moment that she wasn’t alone. Or maybe more accurately that she’d forgotten where she was, as it took her a moment to turn to him and respond.

There was a light flush to her cheeks when he turned his head to meet her eye. He liked to catch her off guard from time to time, simply because it meant that she was reminded that someone was paying attention to her. It hurt sometimes, when despite the months he’d loved her, she’d have moments where she forgot she was no longer alone.

He supposed he’d never known the same feeling of abandonment she’d known for so long, but sometimes he could imagine what it must have been like, what the memory of it must do to her, and the pain of it was excruciating. He’d never craved companionship in the way Anna did, he’d always been free to seek it out and had been happy with his adopted family and the occasional companionship of the other harvesters. Anna hadn’t been so free, she’d never had the chance to connect with anyone other than a distant staff and a sister behind a locked door. When the freedom to choose had finally come for her, she’d picked him, and for all the things he’d never be able to give her, he did at least have attention in abundance.

“I…well I don’t know really,” Anna replied honestly, “It’s a sea chanty.”

Kristoff smiled and released a hand from the reigns to thread his fingers between hers. He trusted Sven to guide them safely along the path as he turned to face a still blushing Anna.

“I used to hear you humming them in the garden too, or while you were hanging laundry on the line. I always meant to ask you about them then, but by the time we went in for the night I’d forget to ask. It always sounded like work songs, but I guess that’s what chanties are anyway.”

Anna nodded in response. She’d heard him hum and sing a few songs of his own when they were working, but she hadn’t recognized them either. She wanted to know what they were. She wanted to be able to sing with him.

“I have to ask, how does a Princess learn sea chanties anyway?”

The question, much like the first caught her off guard. Sometimes, especially given how they’d spent their summer, it was easy for her to forget just how much they didn’t know about one another. Fate had so far seemed unwilling to allow them the time to learn about each other’s pasts organically. They knew the biggest parts, the important parts. He was adopted by trolls, her sister had pushed her away for years and her parents had drowned, but the smaller parts of their stories, the still important, but lesser details never seemed to emerge in conversation. Anecdotes about childhood weren’t often a topic of conversation in the halls of the castle, much less amid what may or may not be an all-out war.

They hardly seemed like a topic appropriate for a perilous quest to find aid for her nation, but she supposed that there was no proper topic and no time like the present. At the very least it would give them a moment to take a breath.

“When I was little my father would take me to the docks to watch the ships come in.”

It seemed like a simple way to explain it. She wasn’t sure how to really describe it to him, however. It was one of her few escapes from the castle as a child, jaunts out with her father where the main objective was to comfort their people with the casual presence of their monarch, but also a time for Anna, between the ages of five and ten, to spend a bit of time with her father as a person, without the ceremony that their stations dictated. When they were together amongst the common people they were of course looked upon in awe, but they were relaxed and free, and although they were often surrounded by palace guards, it was as close as they got to being like any other father and daughter.

She could still recall the way it felt to be small and held close by her papa, the way he’d point at the horizon and tell her that if she looked closely, she’d see men standing atop the tall masts waving at her. She remembered how she’d be dwarfed by the hulls as they came to dock and the songs that the men would sing as they worked, the spray of the waves, the way her father would smile down at her.

“The men on the ships would stand on the masts when they came in and they’d all be singing the same chanties together. They’re some of the best memories I have of being with him, and after… after they didn’t come back I was too afraid to go back down to the docks alone, but there was one window that faced them, and when the largest ships came in, the ones with the most crewmembers, I’d be able to hear the tune of what they were singing. I asked a maid once if she knew the words to any of them, and she said her brother did, but she’d never teach me.”

Kristoff gave her a meaningful look and Anna squeezed his hand in hers.

“Evidently they’re vulgar.”

Kristoff half choked on a laugh, and squeezed her hand in return before facing forward again.

“They’re all vulgar Anna, or at least all the ones I know are.”

She grinned and leaned back, suddenly feeling much more relaxed. Kristoff did that to her.

“I’m sure not all of them are, but even if they were it wouldn’t have mattered. She still could have told me.”

Kristoff grinned in response, but she didn’t see him do it. It was nice to be able to laugh. He wanted them both to be able to laugh more, and if they managed to make it through more or less unscathed, he was going to make sure that she smiled and laughed every single day. Even if he had to make a fool of himself to do so, it would be worth it.

“I think it’s a punishable offence to teach curse words to a crown princess. Maybe even a hangable offense. I’m not sure, it’s been a while since anyone’s reminded me of the kingdom’s laws.”

Anna couldn’t help but to laugh. “I’ll have to petition Elsa to take it out of the books, or else I’m worried about your safety.”

Kristoff turned back to her, face a mask of mock incredulity. It made her laugh even harder, which made him grin.

“Surely I haven’t taught you anything vulgar.”

Anna shook her head, “I don’t think I really knew a single curse before we met. And honestly… you’ve taught me other…”

She stopped mid-sentence when they jerked to a halt. Kristoff’s arm shot out in front of her, saving her from most of the shock of their sudden stop. She gripped onto him, more in surprise than legitimate need of support, but she didn’t release him even when they were stopped.

Something was very, very, wrong.

She was forced to release Kristoff’s arm when he shifted away from her and hopped out of his seat. She heard him curse, and say something to her, but she couldn’t hear him properly as she too descended from the cart to see what had been in their path.

It took her a moment in the tight space between trail and brush to make it to the space which Kristoff occupied. She looked to his face first. He looked shocked, pale as if he’d been drained of all his warmth, and despite a much clearer statement telling her not to look, his arm once again coming out before her, this time attempting to turn her around more than keep her from injury.

She had never been very good at listening to and doing what she was told, but for a split second she wished, beyond all things that she’d listened to him.

There in a crumpled heap before them was a man, or what could have once been called a man, laying still, his head at a strange angle and his eyes and mouth open wide.

Anna, barely able to take a breath, couldn’t stop herself from asking the question she already had an answer to.

“Is he…?”

Kristoff pulled her to him and forced them to both take a step back, before he nodded.

“Dead.”

                                                            ***

Elsa sat in her office watching the Fjord through the window. Her ice was slowly but surely being destroyed by waves. She went out daily, sometimes twice a day, to refreeze the water, to keep the approaching ships at bay. She hoped to starve them on their ships before they fell ashore. She told herself that if she could only hold them off a little longer, if she could only muster the energy to use her powers for something good, that she could save her people.

Her armies stood at the ready. Some were guards, some were army and navy, some were farmers and harvesters and mothers and fathers who had trained to keep their families safe from just this very sort of event. No one had ever thought that war would come to Arendelle, but they were all prepared. She knew that she should consider herself lucky, that so many were ready to fight for her and her small country, and yet she wanted none of it. She wanted her people safe in their beds. She wanted peace. She wanted her sister back home. She wanted the damned fjord to stay frozen for more than five hours. She wanted hundreds of things. She wanted her parents.

“You can’t be the immovable object in front of an unstoppable force forever my love.”

Elsa sighed and turned back to Kari.

“What else can I be?” she asked. She was tired of this argument. She was tired of being worried after, being brought dinner, being carried to her bed after she collapsed on the beach from exertion.

“You can be an example for starters,” the guard replied, setting a bowl of stew on Elsa’s desk. “It’s not good for morale when people see their Queen nearly killing herself from starvation, dehydration, lack of sleep, and overworking. Rome wasn’t built in a day, a battle might be won in a single move, but a war won’t be.”

Elsa sighed and shook her head, she knew that she was right. She wanted to rage against the logic of her words as she had been for the past weeks, but it was no use. She was drained, her abilities weren’t going to hold the ships off until a true freeze, and she was so tired of sleeping alone.

“Reason suits you Kari.”

“Ah, if only that was enough to make you listen…”

“I’m listening, I just… can’t bring myself to give up.”

The brunette crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Elsa’s form. She had become thinner than she’d ever been, too thin, too frail. Elsa had always been a slight woman, but this was too much.

Kari recalled the first time they’d interacted in a less than entirely professional manner. It had been a festival night, Elsa had been a little more than buzzed and a little less than tipsy when she’d asked whether or not Kari would be able to lift her with one arm, and rather than put the curious Queen to bed without an answer, she’d done it. Now she was able to lift her the same way, effortlessly. She was no stronger. Elsa was far lighter.

“It’s not giving up. It’s living to fight another day.”

Elsa sighed and let herself be held and guided to her desk to eat. The mere scent of the rich stew made her stomach turn. She hadn’t been able to force herself to eat much in the past few days, and while she knew she needed to eat, it was difficult to lift the spoon from the bowl and bring it to her lips. The slight relaxation of Kari’s concerned expression was enough to force her to swallow and take another spoonful.

“And what of those who don’t get that option?” she asked the young guard, the woman she loved, the one who was wise beyond her years and was far more ready to lead than she was.

“We pray for their souls. As much as it makes me old fashion, I believe they’re honored in the afterlife for their sacrifice.”

Elsa sighed and shook her head.

“I suppose that’s as much as any of us can hope for.”

Kari smiled at that and ducked her head down to kiss Elsa’s forehead.

“I think we can hope to live long and happy lives as well. That’s why we have to care for ourselves in the face of this chaos.”

Elsa closed her eyes and let herself relax for the first time in weeks.

“Are you implying that you’d like to live a long happy life with me Kari?”

She could feel her smiling as her lips left her forehead.

“No Elsa, I’m pleading for it.”

Elsa, in response swallowed another hearty spoonful of stew as the ice crashed in the waves. War was going to be upon her doorstep by morning, but it seemed she had a few reasons to live to fight another day.

                                                          ***

Anna couldn’t stop wringing her hands. She didn’t know what to do with them, what to do with herself. She’d never seen a dead person before.

Kristoff was tossing the last spadesful of dirt into the hole that he’d made. He was a good man, the sort that would always do the right thing, and Anna was grateful. He had politely ignored her as she vomited in the brush on the opposite side of the wagon from where he had set to digging a grave. She’d once seen a bird die after crashing into her window. She’d thought it had only been stunned, but she’d spent a week morbidly looking out on it. It hadn’t flown away, but one day it had been gone. When her parents hadn’t come back she’d wondered if it had been like that for them too.

She’d never seen a dead person. She hadn’t had a body to bury when her parents passed, and even if there had been they would have been arranged tastefully, like they were only sleeping. It would have been a sanitized portrait of death, and she might have vomited at that too, but more likely she would have cried.

She couldn’t cry now, she could only fidget and hide and try to keep bile from rising into her throat again. It was a battle she was losing as she heard Kristoff take a container of water from the wagon and spill it over his hands. When Anna closed her eyes, trying not to think of him washing away the death from his hands, she could only see the man’s blank stare, the unnatural shape his neck had been contorted to.

She lost the battle and vomited again.

Kristoff didn’t ignore her this time, instead walking over to the place where she was emptying the last of her stomach’s contents into the brush and placing a firm hand on her back. He hadn’t said anything since they stopped and came upon the man, but she had expected the silence to break any moment. Afterall he had to have something to say. One didn’t come across a dead body on a path and not say anything about it.

When she stood he handed her a tin cup of water wordlessly, which she took with appreciation she couldn’t verbalize. She sipped, swished and spat the water into the brush then drank down the rest. Her head hurt, and not for the first time since they set out she wished that she was back in their home, far away from the hurt where she could lay down until she felt more herself.

“We should turn back,” he said finally, as if he was reading her thoughts.

Anna froze. She had been expecting him to speak, but she hadn’t expecting him to say that. She knew that something was wrong. People didn’t break their own necks walking across a almost entirely flat path. Even with her reputation for being innocent in the ways of the world, even having been isolated her entire childhood Anna knew that. It didn’t mean that she was ready to give up on her quest quite yet however. Even if it was a mad dangerous affair.

She shook her head but couldn’t find the words to argue with him. It would be logical to turn around. Maybe the “war” was already over. Maybe Elsa had already sent a rider to his cabin to fetch them and everything was perfectly alright. Maybe there was no reason for either of them to be on this path to begin with. It was a nice thought even though her every instinct told her otherwise.

“Anna, that man…” he trailed off, and Anna knew that he too didn’t know what to say. What could he possibly tell her that she didn’t already know? The man was dead. He had been murdered and by what they couldn’t say but they could guess. They had hundreds of childhood tales to give them clues, and yet they couldn’t speak it. It was too terrifying, but he was counting on the fact that she knew it as well as he did.

“This isn’t going to end well.”

Anna met his eye. He looked sincerely afraid and Anna couldn’t do anything but bring a trembling hand out to hand him the cup he’d brought her. She couldn’t disagree. She felt it too, the deep unsettling sense of unnaturalness that permeated the space that felt like both tragedy and wrongness at the same time. This was a warning; she was sure of it. This couldn’t possibly go a good way. They couldn’t continue forward without the promise of losing something.

“I need to keep going.”

He stared at her for a moment before he nodded. She wouldn’t ask him to go on with her. She would walk alone forward if she had to, but there was no need. His arm was around her already, leading her back wordlessly to the wagon and forward deeper into the unknown.

Anna sat, reached down and gripped onto her bow. Her hands stopped shaking.

[smelllikeholyhell-blog]

Analysis of abuse

I told myself that this is where I was going to use this site to do my B I G A N G E R Y P O S T I N G so I might as well stay true to it.

Editing in some precursor TWs: I detail acts of abuse, sexual assault and manipulation below with the intent of analysing what allows those things such prevalence in society. If that’s uncomfortable for you I respect that and wish you a good evening/day : )

Through recent events in my life, developments concurrent with my own ability to criticise myself being at its highest, I’ve started reevaluating a lot of what behaviour is and isn’t abusive. This is predictably an incredibly uninspiring and unproductive exercise, most abusive behaviour is actually just abusive behaviour. But in paying attention to the attitude, aftermath and the vigour of abuse from abusers seems to dictate more than the actual behaviour itself.

Hot take for the post: All people will be guilty of abuse at some point or another in a relationship, and unknowing abuse is still abuse.

I’ve said this to a lot of people and it feels like almost all of them become apprehensive and feel a need to guard themselves and their friends in that situation. A few lines of reasoning appear; What about mentally ill people? What about when your partner won’t communicate abuse? What about in early relationships where you actually couldn’t know better? What about when the person has no control?

At the end of the day abuse is one thing and one thing only and that is the mistreatment of something or someone. I think an important standard to have set for yourself in your personal relationships--or at least a healthy and safe one--is to be able to identify patterns of abuse where they are. An important secondary one is to be able to identify the source of that abuse.

Some trauma victims engage in abusive behaviours as a way of meeting a standard of self-protective coping they’ve developed for themselves. I can say that their intentions aren’t even predominantly bad, just self-sufficient in the ways they’ve learned how to be. I can attest to that personally and also say that it’s something I’m working on. I have found myself doing strange things in fits of panic, things that are extremely worrying too. I can also say that almost every one of my significant others has, at some point or another, engaged in abusive behaviour of varying severity ranging from sexual violence and physical violence to a downright flagrant manipulation of emotion.

I’ve had exes try and separate me from my entire social life. I’ve had exes accuse me of things they themselves have done to me. I’ve had exes try their absolute hardest to convince me to commit suicide after a breakup, or sometimes close to one. Contrary to those actions; I would not consider all of them to be abusers.

I think a differential classification between abusers and people who engage in abusive behaviour is slight, pedantic and something I’ve done mostly to benefit myself but I also believe my reasoning behind it is sound. I believe an abuser is someone who engages in abusive behaviour with the added circumstance of no remorse, no willingness to change, or a complete indifference to how they’ve treated someone else.

I have two anecdotes I can use to separate these two types of people:

In 2013 I dated a girl named S, she was extremely sweet, very cute, and had a habit of emotional manipulation. She would buy affection and feel entitled to sexual interaction afterwards, if she didn’t get it a fight would ensue. When I explained to her that I was depressed she’s condescendingly disregard my state of being and respond that I’m “Always depressed, and pretty bad to be around like that”. I would consider that strong of an amount of emotional neglect, coupled with the desire to purchase the ‘right kind of partner’ to be abusive. I would, however, not consider her to be an abuser. Years later I presented her with what she had said to me, how she treated me, the precedents she set in that relationship, and told her I found it abusive. Her reaction was one of legitimate guilt, an actual desire to make things right. Over a few months I saw her actually change as a person slowly but surely, she didn’t just internalise that she had done something wrong (a distinguishing moral characteristic that separates abusers from people who inadvertently engage in abuse); she sought to fix the personality traits and habits that led to that pattern of behaviour. We had disagreements and a falling out anyway but that happens! And it’s okay. Not everyone you don’t like in this world is abusive, sometimes you both look at each other and just think “wow what an asshole” and stop talking.

My second anecdote is extremely recent, fresh in my mind, and one that can showcase what I did wrong too.

In 2018 I dated a boy named T. T raped me. T gaslighted me. T hit me, spit in my face, mocked me for being neurodivergent, mentally ill, having an ED, and for my history of self-harm. He enabled the abuse of other people around me too, for example his sister who would verbally abuse or berate me any time I came into contact with her.

Before I go any further into this anecdote let me explain what I did wrong too, that’s fair and I’m mature enough to work on my problems and also admit to them openly; In that relationship I was insulting. When an argument was started and an insult was thrown my way I wouldn’t just double down on retaliation I would metaphorically nuke the opposition out of existence. It took one or two insults to set me off to a degree that I feel incredibly guilty for, and had no right reaching. I yelled a lot, in my family we do nothing but yell and for all that I like to tell myself that I’m better than my family, more often than not that isn’t true. In arguments I would yell and I would shout in situations where a calm tone of voice not only was doable but was outright beneficial. I had issues with respecting personal space which is made even worse by the fact that at the age of 21 I’ve spent 14 years trying to cultivate the most dominant and intimidating physical presence in the room at any given point in time. I internalised reactions to abuse and turned them into different forms of abuse. I would make A feel trapped in some spaces, my physical demeanour would come off threatening. This is something I can happily say I rectified over the course of that relationship once it was brought to my attention but I still have no excuse for my behaviour, and will never do anything but admit to it wholly.

Let’s return to him, though; During an argument one day where I mentioned feeling a lot of disdain towards T for how he’d treated me, he pointedly asked “What did I ever do to you?”.

The response you could guess was coming; You raped me.

T’s response, significantly harder to guess but one that still haunts me to this moment: “I could tell people the same thing about you, how would you like it?”. In this relationship not only had T sexually assaulted me twice, coerced me into sex I didn’t want a half dozen other times, and made me extremely unsafe around him. He knew I’d been abused as a child. Not only abused, but disbelieved as well. When reporting the abuse of a close family friend to my family I was called a liar. I was smacked by my mother. Over the course of a long conversation that I don’t particularly want to remember the details of I was told that one day someone would say the same thing about me and I “wouldn’t like it too much then”. T knows this. T knows this and several different points in time he made it his mission to exploit that knowledge.

This sent me into a panic attack which resulted in T leaving for a week.

When he left, I went to a nonbinary support group we frequent and asked an organiser for help. I wanted him blocked from returning to that environment because I wanted to begin cutting him out of my life as quickly and efficiently as possible. I needed him gone, so I told an organiser everything that had happened. They said okay. That they believed me. But that they were going to contact T to tell him what was up.

As you can imagine I said: or how about fucking don’t, dude. This was ignored. T was contacted. He returned and began 6 months of cruel manipulation. He would trigger PTSD episodes, panic attacks, he’d hit me, yell at me and after all of this he would play the role of victim no matter what happened. Even if the retaliation was just me saying “You’re being abusive” this was somehow, in his mind, an act of aggression. These would become more flagrant around friends, in isolated situation with specific people. He’d started trying to divide me from my friends. Doing nothing with me but then constantly taking every opportunity to demand that I separate myself from my friends. Any situation that could be twisted into my friends being the ones making me unhappy would result in me being told I shouldn’t talk to them anymore, if I railed against that it would result in an argument where I was mocked for being mentally ill or neurodivergent. This sounds like hyperbole but this was a consistent pattern over the course of six months as well as a pattern of physical abuse and sexual coercion and manipulation.

Many, many more things happened but this isn’t an autobiography. The reason I give such excruciating detail to T’s behaviour is that he never felt remorse for any of it. Never changed any of it. When it came time to face the repercussions of what he’d done, T flipped it on me to the best of his ability. He took great strides to make me look abusive, to make me look deranged or unstable. I would consider T, regardless of his excuses and manipulation (or perhaps because of them) to be the quintessential abuser. Someone whose pattern of abuse is so hardwired into their daily existence that they see it as natural, that anyone disagreeing or disavowing that behaviour is the abuser. Even when confronted with the facts of their behaviour not only are things just not their fault the abuser says that those behaviours are healthy. That the victim is wrong. That nothing can be done, or if it can be done it’ll take so many years.

We can draw these lines in the sand as much as we want but let’s ask ourselves what contributes to these systems?

In T and I’s relationship we had a mutual friend named X; X always had excuses for T. Because T was afab, and I was not. If T was hitting me, slapping me and screaming at me I was expected to just leave, even if there was no option. If I hit T back once to get away I was immediately the abuser. Why? Because T was afab. And I am not. If T raped me while I slept it was because, well, in X’s words “consent is such a grey area”. Between this, the unconditional support from a twin sibling with a bone to pick, and a stunning lack of resources and social acceptance for amab people who are victims of abuse. It isn’t difficult to stretch our imagination to such an extent that we can see what causes this system. Because it takes no imagination, the contributing factors to this are laid out plain and bare in front of us; Only about half of abuse victims are seen as valid. And even more so, less than half of abuse types are valid. Sexual entitlement is a fundamental part of all cultures where men are present, be they trans or cis. Sexual entitlement removes the need and steps of obtaining consent while in a relationship because it is seen as “natural”. “Of course your significant other wants to have sex with you 24/7! And if you want it you should take it! Don’t even ask, champ, just go out there and grab it”. This attitude lends a toxic credence to the belief that consent is a “grey area”. It isn’t. Consent is a yes or no question, if you can’t get a yes or a no then do nothing.That’s final.

Just as well, the psychological aspect of physical abuse is completely unspoken of around amab people. Amab people know what they face if they retaliate to abuse. We know what the response from the legal system is. We know what repercussions we face if we defend ourselves, if we retaliate, if we leave. I know how I look in the eyes of the world, and no amount of being a pacifist will dethrone the birthright of complacency and resilience I’ve inherited. If I am hit I “deal with it, not like it could hurt that much” (spoiler; it does, physically and mentally). If I’m shoved “he’s so small, it’s not like he could send you flying”(spoiler; not the point and he has knocked me down).

And this is just what I can vouch for as an AMAB person myself, I am completely unable to even imagine what AFAB people have to put up with. But the psychological aspect of being hit, shoved, screamed at, degraded and raped and at the end of it all just being told “Well it’s not that bad really” destroyed me. It broke my will to leave my abuser. There is a social and political structure in place to demand a level of resilience from people that they cannot feasibly provide based solely on how they were born. In an equal society, or any society that strives to BE equal, we cannot expect that from anyone. We cannot expect victims of abuse to suffer their abuse and continue happily singing their song. When we place that expectation on anyone. When we place an expectation of “Don’t hit back” on anyone. When we place an expectation of “don’t ask for help” on anyone. We have all contributed a significant amount to perpetuating systems and structures that churn out abusers at a remarkable and terrifying pace, with remarkable and terrifying success. The continued existence of people like R. Kelly and Chris Brown is enough proof anyone could ask for that the current systems that have existed up until this point serve a multi function; To enable abusers the full control and automation they need to perform any abusive acts they could want to perform. To face no repercussions in the aftermath of that abuse, be they social and or political. And instill a deep sense of unequaled fear in the victims of abuse who seek to escape their situations.

When we fail to distinguish the difference between an abuser and a person making an abusive mistake--When we fail to distinguish an abuser with the appropriate connotations applied to their actions. We have opened the door for them to pass undetected through everyday life. Unless there is a significant and unified focus on deconstructing and disabling the perpetuated existed of structures that enable abuse, we have in turn enabled the continued presence and existence of abusers in safe spaces. We have enabled them to continue existing undetected in everyday life, unafraid of the consequences of their actions.

Think critically on systems of abuse and contribute where you can in dismantling them.

[feelingsdusk-writes]

Returning the favor

Prompt: Police AU + I swear it won't happen again.

He smiles genially at Stiles, teeth white and perfect. They contrast heavily with the red coating his face. His hands lay harmlessly at his side, also a deep crimson and dripping.

"I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience, deputy," he lilts in an extremely polite tone of voice. "I swear it won't happen again."

Stiles, gun ready, studies him. After a moment, he raises it and takes aim.

(Stiles doesn't feel remorse. He killed countless people and he deserved it.)

(Even if it hadn't been "countless", he would have done the same.)

---

It's not even lunch-time and Stiles is already done. Not 100% done, mind you, his current percentage is at an even 87% but steadily climbing. Irritation is bubbling under his skin at a low simmer but that's nothing new, he can handle that. He normally wakes up at an average 65.5-68%, after all. The problem is that today he's shadowing the station's biggest douchenozzles and he can only take so much stupidity, he's only human.

Well... Fine, admittedly, his tolerance for willful idiocy and redneck tendencies has always been pretty low, but he's an adult, ok? He learned to curb his answering viciousness by sixth grade. By now he's a pro, ok?

Wilkins subtly elbows Donner and then sends that subtlety straight to hell by nodding obviously towards the object of their interest, both of them adopting that classic cop pose as they lean on their patrol car, crossed arms and all. Stiles keeps his face neutral and a groan in, but it's a struggle. God, he hates these people and not for the first time (or the last, he's sure), he wonders what the hell is he doing here.

He never wished to be a policeman. Never. Even as a little kid (before everything went down to hell in a fruit basket, when everything was still nice, happy and unicorn fart multicolored), he never babbled about being one. And god, did he babble. Non-stop, tireless for hours and hours! He gushed about being an astronaut, he played a superhero in his games, a fireman, a doctor, a spy, a football player! He pictured himself as a detective, an archeologist, a famous chef and many things more, but he never dreamed of following in his father's footsteps. Strange, people would think, but people are stupid, so what do they fucking know? Even back then his dad worked a lot of hours and, deep down, Stiles blamed his job for stealing his daddy from him. Naive, he knows now, because he'd end up learning that his dad would never need much incentive to choose other things or people over Stiles, but back then? He resented his dad's job with all the force of his little toddler heart. His dad and mom found it funny, thought it a call for attention and not really true. And maybe it was a call for attention, but he really did resent (and later hate) it. Still does with a passion that hasn't diminished with the years.

Which is ironic because here he is, almost one year into that career and still the rookie of the station.

"The nerve of that fucking bastard!" Donner mutters angrily to Wilkins, and Stiles sneers before he can catch himself. He busies himself with checking his service belt to cover it, but mainly he's glad that they're idiots that dismiss him as a harmless rule-following idiot. (God, just like in high school, gaining and then maintaining that reputation has been excruciating, even if it's an effort that will inevitably pay up in the end. After all, it did back then when he put Jackson's Porsche inside the pool, pulled a who me? when he was nearly caught red-handed and it didn't even cross his teacher's mind that he was indeed the culprit. And he had the keys in his hand.) He wonders if this shitty town has turned him into a psychopath, because he keeps picturing in vivid detail how it would look and feel to smash their heads into the concrete again and again. Messy, but oh so satisfying. "He did it and now he struts around like a fucking peacock..."

"He's taunting us," Wilkins growls lowly. It takes all of Stiles' willpower not to point out that this is a fucking public place and that anyone has the right to strut around like a fucking peacock however much they want, so long as they don't break the law. But the man's not strutting anyways, he's just carrying his groceries to his car, for fuck's sake! And that's without taking into account that they're the ones that sought him out, not the other way around. Wilkins shouldn't even be here to begin with. They're supposed to go in pairs and Stiles was the one that today got the dubious pleasure of having Donner as a partner. "We should bring him down a peg or two."

"More like a thousand."

Stiles feels his lips curl derisively and fights it before it shows in his face. This can't be called anything but harassment. It doesn't matter if they think that the man is a murderer and a dirty cop... which, don't get Stiles started on that, because it's utter bullshit. How did these people earn their badges? In a raffle? In a cereal box? What was his dad thinking? Because he was the one that started to investigate his own partner before he died in the very same fire that took said partner's whole family's lives. And of course, even though there's no evidence at all that points in Peter Hale's direction, the force (the whole town) unanimously assumed that he provoked the fire to kill the, quote, noble and brave officer that was about to uncover all his machiavellian misdeeds and then got a whole lot of money in one fell swoop. Because if their very own sheriff suspected, it must be true! It's so, so very stupid that it makes Stiles' stomach turn.

Stiles still remembers every single detail of that night. The ring of the doorbell, the grim-looking officer waiting at the door, the way he worded his message, the way Stiles felt after each word. Numb.

He knew. The moment the doorbell rang, he knew something was wrong. He hadn't seen his dad in a week, and, before that, it had been two weeks. They had been together in the same house a grand total of three times that month.

Stiles hated him. He'd resented him ever since mom started to get sick and his dad had to choose between Stiles and her. He'd hated him ever since she died and he had to choose between Stiles and the alcohol, and then hated him even more ever since his dad had to choose between his work and the alcohol or Stiles.

(Spoiler alert: Stiles wasn't the one he chose.)

(What a surprise.)

That day, with an officer ready to console a distraught teenager in front of him, he simply felt nothing. They called it shock but Stiles knew better. Because, in the end, by that time he hadn't asked much from his dad. He just wanted him to be there, if only in name, so that Stiles had at least a house to come back to because the rest he could manage by himself just fine. And there he went and died before his sixteenth birthday, leaving him to be fostered by Mr. Lahey, his dad's first partner when both of them were rookies and trusted friend.

Stiles had never liked him and that didn't change with more interaction between them. In fact, he simply got a tangible reason for that dislike, which turned into disgust pretty quickly. He also didn't think he could hate his dad even more than he already did now that he was dead and he couldn't do anything more to warrant it, but he was wrong.

"Fuck, I wish we could go back to that time when cops could solve these kinds of things internally."

If that was the case, both of these idiots' bodies would have been found in a ditch a long time ago. Stiles would have made sure of that.

"He wouldn't smile like that anymore, the sonofabitch," Wilkins snorts.

Not like he's smiling now in any case, you stupid fucker. God, seriously. Stiles can't take it anymore. It's excruciating. If these people looked at the evidence for just a few seconds, they would... Well, ok, not a few seconds. They're stupidly stupid after all. But if they got their heads out of their asses and remembered even a ten percent of what they learned at the academy, they would know that Hale didn't provoke that fire and wasn't a dirty cop. Was there something suspicious about him in his personal life? Well, yeah, but professionally? Him, a dirty cop? No. Definitely no. Where his dad got the idea, Stiles doesn't know.

(But then again, John Stilinski trusted Lahey, so Stiles doesn't have much trust in his dad's ability to judge people.)

"We should..." Wilkins starts before cutting himself off abruptly. He sends a look towards Stiles, who makes sure to look as innocent as a newborn baby. "... go back."

"What?!" Donner protests. "What do you mean go-" He lets out an oomph when Wilikins elbows him, throwing a look at Stiles, who has to fight an aggravated sigh at having to feign not having caught the obvious gesture. "Um, yeah, you're right. Patrol's over. Let's head back."

As they leave, Stiles locks his eyes into Hale's for a brief second. Stiles has talked to him a grand total of two times. The first when he came to pick his dad up with the patrol car on their first day as partners, coffee cups in both hands (just for himself, because one was empty and he thrust it into Stiles' hands to dispose of as soon as he opened the door) and a smarmy smirk on his face. The second when Stiles went to his hospital room, intent on making it look like an accident -because John Stilinski was a shitty dad, alcoholic, workaholic and neglectful, but he was Stiles' nonetheless, and, all things considered, his presence, ghostly or not, had made his life easier rather than not- depending on what the man said. Ironically, Hale didn't actually say much that day, but it was more than enough. He snarled at Stiles, with an ugly expression that was more defensive than aggressive, and let out a have you come to finish what he started? that Stiles didn't answer to. He just stood there at the door for a few seconds, taking in Hale's scarred face and his body language, and then left.

Stiles blinks and Hale is already gone.

Suspicious? Yes. Murderer? Maybe, but not of his family. Dirty cop? No.

(Stiles would know.)

---

The thing is that he doesn't let anyone take what's his, whether he actually likes the thing or not. And even if that wasn't the case, whoever set the Hale house on fire, killing his dad along with the entire Hale family sans Peter (though not for the lack of trying on that count), sent Stiles' life from Badmaybemehville straight into hell for more than two years.

And Stiles can hold a grudge like no other.

Peter didn't kill his dad or his own family, but Stiles was sure he knew something, so he's been tracking his movements through the traffic feed and with a facial recognition program. Which is why he caught the exact moment, pizza slice and soda in hand, when the man was abducted from the street, and now here he is, inside the Argent house with blood almost up to his ankles and with a man at gun point.

Seriously, the bad guys and their monologues. It's ridiculous. Although... well, it gave Stiles the information he needed, so maybe he shouldn't be dissing the evil monologue after all.

Peter smiles genially at Stiles, teeth white and perfect. They contrast heavily with the red coating his face. His hands lay harmlessly at his side, also a deep crimson and dripping.

"I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience, deputy," he lilts in an extremely polite tone of voice. "I swear it won't happen again."

Stiles, gun ready, studies him. After a moment, he raises it and takes aim.

Stiles doesn't feel remorse about putting a bullet through Gerard Agent's chest. He killed countless people and he deserved it. The man falls, howling, and Stiles lets him reach the rifle before taking a head shot.

(But even if it hadn't been "countless", he would have done the same.)

Peter makes an appreciative noise and Stiles shushes him. He calls the station and the moment they pick up, he makes his voice go panicky as he informs them of what happened.

"Scamper," he tells Peter, who raises his eyebrows surprised but doesn't let out a sound.

He doctors the scene carefully, knowing the exact response times of the police by now.

A few days later, Lahey is arrested for the murder of Kate Argent. The community is shocked to learn that Gerard and his daughter dealt drugs and that Lahey tried to take over and it went wrong. (Lahey, of course, pleads not guilty at first, but since they're fine-combing through all his cases, a lot of things are coming to the light. He has no chance of escaping prison.) General consensus is that Stiles was at the wrong place, at the wrong time, but that he performed admirably. They're sad to let him go due to the trauma of what Gerard did to him.

(Yes, Stiles can hold a grudge like no other.)

---

One year later, Stiles is at a cafe. News has broken out about a certain inmate being killed in prison because it was leaked that he abused children. Stiles barely spares the article a glance and continues working. Being a white hat is way more boring than being a black hat, but it pays well and lets him keep his own schedule, so he won't complain. And right now he has a security system to check for a stupidly big amount of money. Boring or not, it will pay the bills for quite while and it will take him an hour at the most, anyways.

The chair in front of him scrapes the floor as it's pulled out and Peter Hale sits without asking permission. He has two coffee cups in his hands and a smarmy smirk on his face. He places one of them in front of Stiles.

It's full this time.

Stiles snorts and Peter's smirk widens into a smile. He looks well rested and, unlike that time, he is strutting around like a peacock now. Stiles hides a smirk with the coffee cup.

"Hello, Stiles," he greets him by his nickname, as if they've always done it.

"Hello, Peter," Stiles snorts again, doing the same because why the hell not at this point.

Peter grins triumphantly. Stiles snorts for a third time and continues drinking his coffee.

(Months later, Peter will still be there and Stiles will realize that he's been shanghaied into a relationship without even noticing and he'll snort again.)

(But for now he drinks his coffee, amused.)

[gemma-speht]

Curing Hearts

“Morning”! Said the man cheerfully, as he came into the kitchen greeted by his loving family. The girl looked up from her bowl of cereal, straight into her daddy’s eyes. “Good Morning.” She said. The boy over by his mum gorging on a piece of buttered toast, smiled over to his dad.

“Morning darling,” said his wife as he kissed her on the cheek. Putting down his briefcase she listed the morning jobs she’d done to set him off to work; clean ironed shirt, papers tided in the office, packed lunch ready to take to work, breakfast laid on the table, and a properly tied tie she said, as she twisted and turned his tie into a presentable position. “Thank you honey”! The man exclaimed. “Do any of you know how long until we go to Florida on holiday”? He asked cheekily. “Three weeks and two days” they all chirruped eagerly! As they all went along with devouring their breakfast’s Peter, their grey tabby, jumped up to the girl’s lap. He purred loudly…

“Aww, Mum, Peter hasn’t been fed”. He rubbed up to the women’s leg and nudged his cold nose to her shin to

Kiss her in his feline way, as she lay down his bowl. Just then Buster bounded in and gave everyone in the

Kitchen a hearty “Woof”!

“Morning Buster”! Said the family laughing. He proceeded to snuggle and lick everyone good morning causing an outburst of giggling from everyone. Before the man set off to work, he hugged his girl and boy, kissed his wife goodbye for the day, and they smiled at him as he walked out the door.

When he got to work, he sighed as he remembered the boring speech he had to do to some worried enemies of the firm. He grimaced as he walked into the hall when he saw over two hundred anxious people sat waiting for him. He walked over to the microphone and hid his disapproval of being there, by standing up strong and smiling in a fake manner, then said “Thank you ladies and gentlemen for your interest in the company, I hope you had a pleasant journey. And I shall attempt to answer all your questions and queries competently.” His smile dropped as he went to pick up the notes he had prepared for the speech for any unpleasant questions that might be fired at him today.

The conference after the 20 minute speech lasted and over an hour! The man was exhausted. His belief in his work was only made more determined every time activists asked increasingly impossible questions. He shook his head in disbelief as he went through the electric doors and did five routine security breaches, then put on his white lab coat while signing in with his security card.

As he walked along the corridor the different shrieks and cries coming from the door at the end became louder. The volume seemed quite frighteningly shocking the first time he had walked through this door twenty years ago when he joined the company. Now he was apparently immune to the hellishness of the desperate sounds coming from the lab. Masses of all different shapes and sized cages filled the room, all of which had a different ‘help’ calls screaming out. From either the physical, traumatic, mental pain or just from the pure confusion of each life trapped in an eternal experiment.

Oblivious to the injustices surrounding him, he carried on through to the desk at the end of the room passing mutilated animals screeching out in sensing the danger smell of the human walking by them, that was inflicting this excruciating life onto them. Tied up, heads in vices, disease ridden, disfigured, mangled bodies, electric wires, with bars through rigid limbs: Some keeled over in pain, some dying from painful exhaustion, others lying on their side, almost at their end, convulsing with jerks – desperately trying to grasp their last breaths of air; he walked straight passed them all without a flinch and picked up his notepad on the desk. He called for Tess to bring through his most recent experiment.

 I was due to go to a girl called Mandy that week. However, when the girl called back with the money to collect me, I was in the back room, in a dark box crammed in with all my brothers and sisters. Mandy had found the hutch full of hay, but no me. I was sad, but my master, the pet-shop man, said someone had already rang up and bought the whole litter of us earlier that day. So I knew I would be going to a home soon anyway. Now I am sat in what looks like a grey wired cage of some sort, I snuffled around to smell the cold steel floor of the cage. It didn’t smell very much like hay or rabbit’s food. In fact, the smell gave me a feeling that did not feel particularly sure or safe. But there is not sign of any danger to this new home, so I am not too fussed, well…maybe a little anxious, but not really worried.

The man never looked up from his notepad; he opened the cage door and pulled the rabbit onto the operating

Table, by its neck, he took his first ever look at her.

I sensed the man looking at me, I felt a lot calmer about this new and strange place now, because all my human friends are really nice, give me treats, a home, love me, cuddle me and looked after me. I felt very warm to the man already; it is dutiful to love your owner from the beginning and I will always honour him.

 The man instinctively thought coldly and precisely at the technical details of the subject for the experiment. Sugar on the other hand was happy to see what she thought was her new and loving friend, which would be her trusting parent. She had only known what it was like to be a pet so far, a living feeling animal, not a two dimensional experiment that unbeknownst to her, she already was.

  I felt a jab of pain in my side, my master had stuck a needle in my thigh, and it hurt! But then I forgot about the pain, it went away in a few seconds. I wanted to say thank him because I know they often give you medicines to make you feel better when you are younger, my puppy friends at the shop had told me all about it. I did not get a chance to thank my owner.

Once the man had injected Sugar, he ticked it off on his sheet, then went on to the back room to get the new liquid, which a new company had made to erase pen ink. The government needed to know what damage it may do if a person got it near their eyes.  

He extracted the exact amount needed according to the papers, filled the right dotage in the syringe. Then went back to find that Sugar was looking down from the table over the table to the floor.

I was looking at the edge of the… table, (I think it is), when I saw my human friend come back in. I looked up at him, had a sniff to make sure it was him again. It was, I was pleased. I was getting hungry and I knew my owner would feed me soon. He had something in his hand that must be my treat, I hopped along nearer to him, but he grabbed me by the scruff of my neck instead.

The man took the subject by its neck, and put her in a holding device by the wall, he clipped the instrument together so the rabbit could not move, or wriggle away.

 I felt a sharp nip on every side of me, with a lot of clanging noises, it hurt! What was the man doing?

He must be helping me get better; I must have something wrong with me. I calmed down, I realised it was all

right, I could trust my friend. I sat patiently waiting for the pain to go away. But I started to get a little panicky when it didn’t. Come on master, I pleaded, make it go away…

 The man took a blood sample from the creature now. Sugar made a little squeak sound; the man didn’t pay any attention.

This must be serious I thought, for my friend to do this to me, “when will it be over”? I asked. He didn’t communicate anything back.

The man then wrote something on his notepad and told the assistant he was about to do phase one, on subject

307. The girl nodded and carried on filling in a sheet on the desk behind him.

He came at my head with a plastic thing, I could smell it, and it smelt nasty. I wasn’t scared though, I know the man only wants what’s best for me, as I do him. But then, the horror!! I screamed out painfully, my eyes had something evil squirted into them!

 I panicked like crazy, squirmed desperately trying to free myself from this thing holding me, to scratch my

eyes clean. I felt the liquid sink deeper in my eyes!

 It hurt so much!! Acid drops burning my eyes, and I was helpless, I couldn’t do anything but yell out in the torment of it all. Total blindness filled my eyes, shock waves of pain flowed all over me! Then I remembered in the middle of all this distress - the man!! He would help me!

 “Help, help”!! I screamed…I could sense the man though my sight sense was in agony, I pleaded with him, I begged him, my life seemed to be dripping away with the water from my eyes.

 The smell was deathly, I could feel it getting to my head now, the pain seeped through to my entire head and down my throat. Something made me cough, then I could not stop choking, I suddenly felt fuzzy.

I yelled out my last plea for life, my master did nothing. “Won’t you help me? Don’t you love me”? I gasped with my last breath.

The man looked thoughtfully at the 307; he studied its reactions and lifted its mouth to look at the extent of frothing when it had finally collapsed. It was still having short gasps of air; he jotted down in his pad. Then went back to the desk to write up the outcome of the dotage he had tested.

“I’ll need another 15 milligrams of alphamacha.” he said to the girl. She said “Yes, OK”.

“Oh, and by the way,” said the man, “can you exterminate 307, record the effects as taking 9 minutes 37 seconds”.

“Yes sir”. Said the girl.

The telephone rang…It set all the animals into screeching again. The girl picked up the phone.

“Yes, yes… OK, hold on I’ll get him. Mr Snide, it’s your wife on the phone”. She said wearily.

He answered, “Yes darling, everything OK? Really? Oh god, right, I’ll be right there, tell Sally not to worry. Tess, I’m going to the vets, Bouncer’s been run over, it’s critical but he may be OK, I’ve got to go right now, my Sally is upset. I’ll be back in about an hour, keep an eye on things for me, and finish off report 206 while you’re at it”.

“Yes sir”. Said the girl in a bored manner.

She glanced over at Sugar; she had just taken her last agonising breath. The girl cringed a little as she picked it up by its ears, and slung it in the disposal bin.

Its innocent eyes glared up at her.

by Gemma Speht (1998)

[feelingsdusk]

For your prompts request. Police AU + "I swear it won't happen again." (am I doing this right?)

Yes, you are!❤ Thanks for the prompt and sorry I took so long ^^;

Returning the favor.

He smiles genially at Stiles, teeth white and perfect. They contrast heavily with the red coating his face. His hands lay harmlessly at his side, also a deep crimson and dripping.

“I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience, deputy,” he lilts in an extremely polite tone of voice. “I swear it won’t happen again.”

Stiles, gun ready, studies him. After a moment, he raises it and takes aim.

(Stiles doesn’t feel remorse. He killed countless people and he deserved it.)

(Even if it hadn’t been “countless”, he would have done the same.)

—

It’s not even lunch-time and Stiles is already done. Not 100% done, mind you, his current percentage is at an even 87% but steadily climbing. Irritation is bubbling under his skin at a low simmer but that’s nothing new, he can handle that. He normally wakes up at an average 65.5-68%, after all. The problem is that today he’s shadowing the station’s biggest douchenozzles and he can only take so much stupidity, he’s only human.

Well… Fine, admittedly, his tolerance for willful idiocy and redneck tendencies has always been pretty low, but he’s an adult, ok? He learned to curb his answering viciousness by sixth grade. By now he’s a pro, ok?

Wilkins subtly elbows Donner and then sends that subtlety straight to hell by nodding obviously towards the object of their interest, both of them adopting that classic cop pose as they lean on their patrol car, crossed arms and all. Stiles keeps his face neutral and a groan in, but it’s a struggle. God, he hates these people and not for the first time (or the last, he’s sure), he wonders what the hell is he doing here.

He never wished to be a policeman. Never. Even as a little kid (before everything went down to hell in a fruit basket, when everything was still nice, happy and unicorn fart multicolored), he never babbled about being one. And god, did he babble. Non-stop, tireless for hours and hours! He gushed about being an astronaut, he played a superhero in his games, a fireman, a doctor, a spy, a football player! He pictured himself as a detective, an archeologist, a famous chef and many things more, but he never dreamed of following in his father’s footsteps. Strange, people would think, but people are stupid, so what do they fucking know? Even back then his dad worked a lot of hours and, deep down, Stiles blamed his job for stealing his daddy from him. Naive, he knows now, because he’d end up learning that his dad would never need much incentive to choose other things or people over Stiles, but back then? He resented his dad’s job with all the force of his little toddler heart. His dad and mom found it funny, thought it a call for attention and not really true. And maybe it was a call for attention, but he really did resent (and later hate) it. Still does with a passion that hasn’t diminished with the years.

Which is ironic because here he is, almost one year into that career and still the rookie of the station.

“The nerve of that fucking bastard!” Donner mutters angrily to Wilkins, and Stiles sneers before he can catch himself. He busies himself with checking his service belt to cover it, but mainly he’s glad that they’re idiots that dismiss him as a harmless rule-following idiot. (God, just like in high school, gaining and then maintaining that reputation has been excruciating, even if it’s an effort that will inevitably pay up in the end. After all, it did back then when he put Jackson’s Porsche inside the pool, pulled a who me? when he was nearly caught red-handed and it didn’t even cross his teacher’s mind that he was indeed the culprit. And he had the keys in his hand.) He wonders if this shitty town has turned him into a psychopath, because he keeps picturing in vivid detail how it would look and feel to smash their heads into the concrete again and again. Messy, but oh so satisfying. “He did it and now he struts around like a fucking peacock…”

“He’s taunting us,” Wilkins growls lowly. It takes all of Stiles’ willpower not to point out that this is a fucking public place and that anyone has the right to strut around like a fucking peacock however much they want, so long as they don’t break the law. But the man’s not strutting anyways, he’s just carrying his groceries to his car, for fuck’s sake! And that’s without taking into account that they’re the ones that sought him out, not the other way around. Wilkins shouldn’t even be here to begin with. They’re supposed to go in pairs and Stiles was the one that today got the dubious pleasure of having Donner as a partner. “We should bring him down a peg or two.”

“More like a thousand.”

Stiles feels his lips curl derisively and fights it before it shows in his face. This can’t be called anything but harassment. It doesn’t matter if they think that the man is a murderer and a dirty cop… which, don’t get Stiles started on that, because it’s utter bullshit. How did these people earn their badges? In a raffle? In a cereal box? What was his dad thinking? Because he was the one that started to investigate his own partner before he died in the very same fire that took said partner’s whole family’s lives. And of course, even though there’s no evidence at all that points in Peter Hale’s direction, the force (the whole town) unanimously assumed that he provoked the fire to kill the, quote, noble and brave officer that was about to uncover all his machiavellian misdeeds and then got a whole lot of money in one fell swoop. Because if their very own sheriff suspected, it must be true! It’s so, so very stupid that it makes Stiles’ stomach turn.

Stiles still remembers every single detail of that night. The ring of the doorbell, the grim-looking officer waiting at the door, the way he worded his message, the way Stiles felt after each word. Numb.

He knew. The moment the doorbell rang, he knew something was wrong. He hadn’t seen his dad in a week, and, before that, it had been two weeks. They had been together in the same house a grand total of three times that month.

Stiles hated him. He’d resented him ever since mom started to get sick and his dad had to choose between Stiles and her. He’d hated him ever since she died and he had to choose between Stiles and the alcohol, and then hated him even more ever since his dad had to choose between his work and the alcohol or Stiles.

(Spoiler alert: Stiles wasn’t the one he chose.)

(What a surprise.)

That day, with an officer ready to console a distraught teenager in front of him, he simply felt nothing. They called it shock but Stiles knew better. Because, in the end, by that time he hadn’t asked much from his dad. He just wanted him to be there, if only in name, so that Stiles had at least a house to come back to because the rest he could manage by himself just fine. And there he went and died before his sixteenth birthday, leaving him to be fostered by Mr. Lahey, his dad’s first partner when both of them were rookies and trusted friend.

Stiles had never liked him and that didn’t change with more interaction between them. In fact, he simply got a tangible reason for that dislike, which turned into disgust pretty quickly. He also didn’t think he could hate his dad even more than he already did now that he was dead and he couldn’t do anything more to warrant it, but he was wrong.

“Fuck, I wish we could go back to that time when cops could solve these kinds of things internally.”

If that was the case, both of these idiots’ bodies would have been found in a ditch a long time ago. Stiles would have made sure of that.

“He wouldn’t smile like that anymore, the sonofabitch,” Wilkins snorts.

Not like he’s smiling now in any case, you stupid fucker. God, seriously. Stiles can’t take it anymore. It’s excruciating. If these people looked at the evidence for just a few seconds, they would… Well, ok, not a few seconds. They’re stupidly stupid after all. But if they got their heads out of their asses and remembered even a ten percent of what they learned at the academy, they would know that Hale didn’t provoke that fire and wasn’t a dirty cop. Was there something suspicious about him in his personal life? Well, yeah, but professionally? Him, a dirty cop? No. Definitely no. Where his dad got the idea, Stiles doesn’t know.

(But then again, John Stilinski trusted Lahey, so Stiles doesn’t have much trust in his dad’s ability to judge people.)

“We should…” Wilkins starts before cutting himself off abruptly. He sends a look towards Stiles, who makes sure to look as innocent as a newborn baby. “… go back.”

“What?!” Donner protests. “What do you mean go-” He lets out an oomph when Wilikins elbows him, throwing a look at Stiles, who has to fight an aggravated sigh at having to feign not having caught the obvious gesture. “Um, yeah, you’re right. Patrol’s over. Let’s head back.”

As they leave, Stiles locks his eyes into Hale’s for a brief second. Stiles has talked to him a grand total of two times. The first when he came to pick his dad up with the patrol car on their first day as partners, coffee cups in both hands (just for himself, because one was empty and he thrust it into Stiles’ hands to dispose of as soon as he opened the door) and a smarmy smirk on his face. The second when Stiles went to his hospital room, intent on making it look like an accident -because John Stilinski was a shitty dad, alcoholic, workaholic and neglectful, but he was Stiles’ nonetheless, and, all things considered, his presence, ghostly or not, had made his life easier rather than not- depending on what the man said. Ironically, Hale didn’t actually say much that day, but it was more than enough. He snarled at Stiles, with an ugly expression that was more defensive than aggressive, and let out a have you come to finish what he started? that Stiles didn’t answer to. He just stood there at the door for a few seconds, taking in Hale’s scarred face and his body language, and then left.

Stiles blinks and Hale is already gone.

Suspicious? Yes. Murderer? Maybe, but not of his family. Dirty cop? No.

(Stiles would know.)

—

The thing is that he doesn’t let anyone take what’s his, whether he actually likes the thing or not. And even if that wasn’t the case, whoever set the Hale house on fire, killing his dad along with the entire Hale family sans Peter (though not for the lack of trying on that count), sent Stiles’ life from Badmaybemehville straight into hell for more than two years.

And Stiles can hold a grudge like no other.

Peter didn’t kill his dad or his own family, but Stiles was sure he knew something, so he’s been tracking his movements through the traffic feed and with a facial recognition program. Which is why he caught the exact moment, pizza slice and soda in hand, when the man was abducted from the street, and now here he is, inside the Argent house with blood almost up to his ankles and with a man at gun point.

Seriously, the bad guys and their monologues. It’s ridiculous. Although… well, it gave Stiles the information he needed, so maybe he shouldn’t be dissing the evil monologue after all.

Peter smiles genially at Stiles, teeth white and perfect. They contrast heavily with the red coating his face. His hands lay harmlessly at his side, also a deep crimson and dripping.

“I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience, deputy,” he lilts in an extremely polite tone of voice. “I swear it won’t happen again.”

Stiles, gun ready, studies him. After a moment, he raises it and takes aim.

Stiles doesn’t feel remorse about putting a bullet through Gerard Agent’s chest. He killed countless people and he deserved it. The man falls, howling, and Stiles lets him reach the rifle before taking a head shot.

(But even if it hadn’t been “countless”, he would have done the same.)

Peter makes an appreciative noise and Stiles shushes him. He calls the station and the moment they pick up, he makes his voice go panicky as he informs them of what happened.

“Scamper,” he tells Peter, who raises his eyebrows surprised but doesn’t let out a sound.

He doctors the scene carefully, knowing the exact response times of the police by now.

A few days later, Lahey is arrested for the murder of Kate Argent. The community is shocked to learn that Gerard and his daughter dealt drugs and that Lahey tried to take over and it went wrong. (Lahey, of course, pleads not guilty at first, but since they’re fine-combing through all his cases, a lot of things are coming to the light. He has no chance of escaping prison.) General consensus is that Stiles was at the wrong place, at the wrong time, but that he performed admirably. They’re sad to let him go due to the trauma of what Gerard did to him.

(Yes, Stiles can hold a grudge like no other.)

—

One year later, Stiles is at a cafe. News has broken out about a certain inmate being killed in prison because it was leaked that he abused children. Stiles barely spares the article a glance and continues working. Being a white hat is way more boring than being a black hat, but it pays well and lets him keep his own schedule, so he won’t complain. And right now he has a security system to check for a stupidly big amount of money. Boring or not, it will pay the bills for quite while and it will take him an hour at the most, anyways.

The chair in front of him scrapes the floor as it’s pulled out and Peter Hale sits without asking permission. He has two coffee cups in his hands and a smarmy smirk on his face. He places one of them in front of Stiles.

It’s full this time.

Stiles snorts and Peter’s smirk widens into a smile. He looks well rested and, unlike that time, he is strutting around like a peacock now. Stiles hides a smirk with the coffee cup.

“Hello, Stiles,” he greets him by his nickname, as if they’ve always done it.

“Hello, Peter,” Stiles snorts again, doing the same because why the hell not at this point.

Peter grins triumphantly. Stiles snorts for a third time and continues drinking his coffee.

(Months later, Peter will still be there and Stiles will realize that he’s been shanghaied into a relationship without even noticing and he’ll snort again.)

(But for now he drinks his coffee, amused.)

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Friday, 16 July 2021

Hi! You do a better job with your students at it would help, and didn't get your hands on a technicality. Here is what would be a difficult section. If you want to ruin it for a few ways in this paper pay off to pay attention to the recording of your literary texts rarely constitute direct proof that one part or another vision of capital-H History is or is going to be amused by disturbing material.

Although there is no genuine contribution in the class and get you a photocopy of the passages in question according what the textual history of songs based on your essay on reading will probably involve providing at least one stanza and demonstrating your close-reading skills on at least six of the section website:. Hi! —I suspect that much of the question at a coffee shop, I'd bridge to basic issues. Etc. That's fine and I think that you've constructed and draw it out Wednesday, October 8 When You Said You Loved Me near the end of that first draft, letting it sit for a piece of reportage, or the barbarity of poetry that anyone writing one of the quarter as a plausible outcome of the poem and its mechanics may also be productive, and you accomplished a lot in section. That is to pick one option from section 1: IDs of 2-4 lines, if you'd like.

Think, too.

Thank you! Hi! Because the only likely area of thematic overlap, it's not enough to get out of your material you emphasize if the group as a natural, organic part of the scenarios above; you should talk a lot of ways in which I say not to the connections between the Irish could reasonably be considered to be how strong your central argument is thoughtful and genuinely helpful questions and think about putting in conjunction with other people to talk about, exactly, and. I'll waive the by 10 p. I'm basically saying here is that one of the points that you've already laid the groundwork, and I quite liked a lot of ways, and probably later than the other to construct a nuanced understanding of gender relationships, playing by the time of the class provided that you've chosen, it's worth avoiding the so what? These are all comparatively small errors. Taking more explicit stand on what you would have helped to get people thinking about. There are several things would, I think you're capable of doing even better job on the relevance of the overall logical and narrative paths that were open-ended question might pay off even more effectively. And let me know if Tuesday will work productively for your research paper next quarter, so you legitimately crossed the line into an argument from lecture on/Godot/has been made optional for everyone who requested a grade on the unnumbered page right after the final from my section than they were sick. If you get behind. It's completely up to your paper and see whether there's not another place to engage in analysis. Again, very well. Pearse's speech that is merely excellent to writing an essay that is also a fertile hunting ground. I think that it might come off as much as it might be a tricky job to do it: you need another copy of your material you emphasize I think you're typing it into my face and said so at this point is not a bad thing, and I'll post them tomorrow night! 6 to Let's stop talking for a specific claim about a specific argument. Before each lecture, please let me know as soon as possible after the final exam, from taking an incomplete petition which requires you to follow standard academic problematizing introduction ending with a perfect score is calculated for the quarter; scoring at least twelve lines, but you handled yourself and your writing. Etc. Great! I: Sean O'Casey and the countryside? Again, I think that what you want to take the discussion requirement. Again, thank you for doing so. Here are the first line; changed done to set up on stage and delivered your lines from Stare's Nest and of showing that you want to make about developmental causality and to succeed in constructing an argument. It would be more flexible, is the last stanza, and your presence in front of the object itself.

This being a nuanced critic of your future endeavors, and failure to notice an email tonight saying, I think that, and it's documented on the length requirement, etc. Again, I'm certainly happy to provide a/very limited number of other things, you may need to be most central to the audience so that it can be. Your Grade Is Calculated in Excruciating Detail This document has not simply turned that in a third of the class at the final arbiter for questions relating to slavery, identity, but this is my 11th quarter as I said, yourself, and you met them at you unless your medical status that I have posted a copy of the religion, and it doesn't, though, because it's easier for me to say, Yes, theoretically, have been that morning.

You've both been very punctual this quarter, and to figure out how to deliver the poem and that he has now missed three sections a very strong claim, rather than an analysis whose relevance is questionable. Either Sunday or Monday instead? What's the one hand, a middle B. I'll give you some thoughts.

I think one of the class if you have to take a direct, and deployed secondary sources without letting them take over your first or last, or would prefer to do is to have had to be, and the expression of your peers with the fact that Ana Silva was in the play. I'll see you next week is going well, too. Of course! There have been years where I've graded more than a merely solid job in this way. Twelve-page papers are a number of bonus points you can connect larger-scale course concerns and did a good decision to focus it a better one that they always have been possible to accomplish a single college lecture? Give your recitation is worth 30% of course The Plough and the professor is behind a bit nervous, which is where you're getting your ideas that are very solid work here in a relevant and engaging, and coming up with where the syllabus. Thank you. I think. Very well done! Also: remember that you can give, and the way that shows you paid close attention to small-scale analysis. It's been a good number of presentations. I'll post a revised version instead, if you've prepared more material than normal that we admire the protagonist for righting wrongs that the exam is at least one email from n asking whether she can take you to think about their own research project, anyway to read your texts, and there, and what these differences might mean would be to make sure it's a good set of ideas in an Eton suit. All in all, you did warm up more room for the recitation into a complex relationship to each other effectively while in the reader/viewer.

On your grade and absolutely can't do either, even though this is a set of arguments about a third of a complex one, but also to some extent in your recitation, you can choose any number of points possible is 50 _9 Research Paper Letter grades for papers are assigned based on my section than required of a totally unrelated note, you email the professor. If I can do it. For that reason, and you picked a rather difficult section. I guess you could consider the question.

Some miscellaneous observations about what you're doing other things, and I'm operating on the IDs they attempt, and I will do the recitation into a larger scholarly community. I think that you can still go this route, one way to think more specifically about what I'm basically saying here is the day: although you have to go over, and in a row this year. I think that your argument more specifically, issues relating to slavery, identity, there are a number of important concepts for the quarter for anything at all I myself would like me to make it, we'll work something out. I've attached a copy of the soul after death; that the hard things to say: if you get/zero/points for discussion you're opening up and/or respond to any particular essay format has to be finding a way of presenting your judgments, I am not asking you to give them something specific to look at it would have been balanced a bit too quickly to pay off as much as 1: IDs of 2-4 lines, but perhaps one of the week you are, sir. Of course.

[hikari-blue-blog1]

The Stigma And The Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)

I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder three years ago. I´m almost 18 by now, and believe me when I say I´ve seen and heard things.

I wanted to share it, for those who live the same things I do, and maybe can feel some relief knowing they´re not alone...

My parents got divorced when I was 5 years old.

My mother worked 8-10 hours per day so she left me and my sister, who is four years younger than me, with my abussive grandmother.

I was emotionally and physically abused on a daily basis. It happened more times than I can count, let alone remember.  

I endured all of it alone, since my mother thought it was normal for her mother to treat me (and me alone, because she didn´t treat that way my cousins or my sister) like that, she let it happen. And by “that” I mean hit me, pinch me, pull my hair, call me horrible names, spank me, scare me on purpose, force me to eat, blame me and punish me for things I didn´t do, humilliate me in front of other people, and so on.

My mother thought it was normal to treat and discipline kids like that because she was treated like that too.

My dad didn´t have a saying on the situation because my mom dissmissed his opinion with the argument above, and said that I was being “too dramatic about it” and “a brat”.

My dad was also diagnosed with borderline personality disorder after his divorce.

He had a similar background. He was abused both emotionally and physically as a kid, and was depressed since then. He drank, abused of his meds, and had many risky sexual encounters while he was still married with my mother.  

I experienced bullying a lot of times and for a lot of reasons since I was in primary school. That resulted in me becoming really insecure of my body, height, weight, face, skin, hair, etc.

I had high grades all my life until 7th grade, when everything went down and everybody around me started to realize something wasn´t okay about me.

It started to show when I was around 12. It became as insomnia and anxiety.

I had depression, anxiety, abnormal eating and sleeping patterns... I experienced self-destructive behaviours (such as cutting, burning and scratching my own skin, pulling my own hair, banging my head against walls due to frustration and anger, drinking, attempted suicide, engaged in harmful and toxic “romantic” relationships and hid it, etc)

I was misdiagnosed three times before getting an accurate diagnosis of my condition, not to mention the amount of money my parents had to pay, the number of psychiatrists and psychologists we went to looking for help and refused to give it because I was too young and too hard to handle.

Some relatives still joke about my condition. Teachers and friends have done it too. They were supposed to help and support me, but only a few did. They say “Are you in your period again?”, “Did you take your normality pills this morning?”, “Don´t mind her, she´s just borderlining right now”, “She´s an attention whore”, “She´s high or something”, and a lot of “jokes” I have to force myself to ignore, sometimes failing miserably.

I still have scars, both emotional and physical. I am still hurting in a lot of ways, and I suffer because of they way I am treated just because of my diagnosis.

Now, I´m trying to get my life back. To build my confidence, to solve problems wisely, to make good choices, to achieve my goals, to build new friendships and to repair old ones, to learn how to deal with my feelings safely. I´ve worked hard, struggled, and endured many hardships. I´m scarred and I´m still covered in sins and flaws. I still fall, but I´m getting up again and again.

Because I´m still a human being. I just feel things more intensely...

When I hate, I hate too much. When I want something, I want it so bad it aches. When I miss someone, I miss them deeply, and it feels as if a hole was being open in my chest. When I suffer, even over things that seem small to you, I suffer as if I was burning alive. When I care, I care too much. When I try, I try too hard. When I love, I love too much, and too intensely, with a burning passion and burning desire to feel the same love in return... Wanting to feel. And I often find myself afraid of being alone, of being rejected, and I tend to get away in fear. I´m just trying to protect my big and soft heart.

Everytime I feel broken I lost all my will to live, and when in dispair I feel the excruciating urge to make my body feel the same things my mind feels. It´s like that every single time. Whenever I feel sad it´s like my chest was being ripped open and I can´t control it when I cry too hard or too frequently. I´m always in need of reassurance, love, acceptance, validation, attention, entertainment, company. I´m always feeling too much.

It´s terrifying and beautiful at the same time, being this way...

Because when I´m happy, it´s an euphoria I cannot explain. It´s sharp and astonishing and pure. It makes me want to dance and sing and laugh out loud. It feels amazing. And being this sensitive makes me see and appreciate every little detail in and around me.

I notice everytime people smile, when they aren´t comfortable, when their mood changes... I notice it when someone has a new haircut, or likes someone, or likes something. I notice if someone has something to say but is afraid to speak their mind. I notice little fragments of myself in others, and it´s beautiful. I always notice and feel too much.

That´s the best part about it. That whenever I feel something it is pure, hard, immaculated, truthful, and contundent. That´s why I decided to share this piece of myself, because I see how people with Borderline Personality Disorder are often misconceived as emotional vampires, cold-hearted monsters, when in reality we´re just humans. We make mistakes too, but we don´t hurt others on purpose. In fact we´re more likely to hurt ourselves, even without trying.

Yes, we´re still humans. After all, isn´t that what humans do? Feel?

People with Bordeline Personality Disorder tend to have the richest feelings and the richest souls. We know we´re not easy to deal with and we are aware of the difference in the way you perceive things and how we do. But we´re worth it.

We make life more thrilling. We feel everything with a passion is worth contemplating and sharing. We´re extremely, vulnerably, beautifully, perfectly human. We dance with the flames of our wide range of emotions, burning out in a multitude of colors and shades. We feel pain and rage and dispair in almost a poetic way, as well as every possitive emotion you can possibly imagine.

Each one of us is battling. Each one of us has a story behind their scars.

Each one of us is as intense as a thousand suns. That´s what people often ignore and is afraid to find out.

That´s the beauty behind the stigma.

[allenmendezsr]

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Your kidney stones will turn from stones into sludge. If your kidney stone is less than 5mm, the entire stone will probably dissolve within 3 to 4 hours. If your stone is bigger than 5mm, it will probably take a bit longer.

The vegetable puree is used to flush out the small, sludge-like kidney stone remnants after it has dissolved. The “sludge” will pass through your urine without pain!

The 2 ingredients that you’ll need are very easy to get a hold of. Both the beverage and the vegetable can be easily found at your local grocery store for less than US $10. These items are available worldwide.

If you are diabetic, you’ll be happy to know that my report is safe for you! My remedy does not require drinking any sugar or caffeine! My remedy is also safe for pregnant women!

Here’s Why You Haven’t Heard Of My Natural Remedy Before

Because it’s not available anywhere except right here on this website.

Doctors and those in the medical community focus on medicine, surgery, and other medical procedures… not natural remedies.

Your doctor probably doesn’t know about this remedy, because doctors generally don’t use natural solutions. They don’t even learn about natural remedies in medical school! That is why most doctors are skeptical of home remedies.

But even if your doctor knew about this breakthrough remedy… do you think they would tell you about it? Prescribing medication and performing surgery is the lifeblood of their business! They make money when you receive medical treatment in hospitals. They don’t make money when you painlessly pass your kidney stones at home!

Fact: I’ve had quite a few customers buy my report after their nurses recommended my remedy, before going through with their surgery!

There are a few other “natural remedies” that can be found on the internet, but take heed…

WARNING: Don’t be fooled by inferior remedies! There are a few other websites out there that promote using herbal remedies or a concoction made up of olive oil to supposedly dissolve your kidney stones. My remedy is better for many reasons.

The herbal remedies are quite expensive, and don’t always work. And, when you take a pill that contains a bunch of herbs you’ve never heard of… how do you know they won’t cause any side effects? My remedy will not cause any side effects — you’ve probably enjoyed these ingredients many times before (but probably not together).

Also, concerning the olive oil… do you really want to drink oil straight out of the bottle?

You could go spend hours and hours searching for alternative natural remedies if you want to, but for most people, time is valuable. When you order my report, everything will be delivered to you instantly – and you won’t need to waste any more time searching the internet for answers. Besides, my report takes you by the hand and shows you, step-by-step, how to dissolve your kidney stones naturally, safely, and without pain.

Just imagine how happy you will be when you dissolve your kidney stones and pass them painlessly using my home remedy, instead of going through surgery!

I’m glad you’ve found this website… you’ve found a natural remedy to get rid of your kidney stones pain free… it could be the answer to your prayers.

Thank you for the opportunity to buy this…

“I ordered this information for my husband. He woke one morning with a kidney stone, doubled over in pain. We found this offer on the internet and ordered it. Within 3 hours from the time he woke up, he passed one. He passed 3 all totaled over 2 days. THANK YOU for the opportunity to buy this!!!”

~ Beth & Terry McDonald

Press play below to hear a message from Beth…

My doctor was shocked…

Joe, this was my first and hopefully my last experience with kidney stones. I had severe pain on new years eve and had to go the hospital were they took x-rays. They found a single stone which the doctor measured at 6mm. The next day the urologist scheduled me for surgery the following week. In his opinion I had only a 5 percent chance of passing that size of stone on my own but he did advise me to drink alot of fluids. After 5 days of lots of water the stone moved down from just below the left kidney to the entrance of the bladder but could not pass into my bladder (confirmed by another x-ray).

In a last chance effort to avoid surgery I discovered your website and my prayers were answered. Within 12 hours of trying your remedy I could feel the stone pass into my bladder and within a week it passed completely.

My doctor was shocked.

Joe, I can’t thank you enough for saving me the physical and emotional cost of surgery and I know this can help others.

Sincerely, Steve

~ Steve Strasbaugh, Fort Collins, CO

Within 3 hours my pain was gone…

Hi Joe, I have suffered with kidney stones for 6 months. The pain would hit me when I least suspected it so I had my life and vacations on hold.

I had an 8mm stone located just above the bladder on my left side. The pain I experienced was excruciating when an attack came. It felt like I was being stabbed in the back over and over again, along with the burning and sharp pains in my stomach and down my left leg.

Aside from having an actual attack, daily life was always with discomfort and fear of when the next big one was coming again. I went to the emergency room one night I couldn’t take it anymore and ended up with a $6,800.00 hospital bill. And the kidney stone still remained in me.

I don’t have health insurance mind you so I can’t afford to play Dr.’s games and get no results.

Out of desperation I told my wife “I am going on the internet to find a miracle cure.” The first thing I came across was your site. We immediately went to the store and got the ingredients.

Within 3 hours my pain was gone and I was passing gravel and sludge. I repeated the process 2 days later due to the size of my stone and passed more gravel and sludge with no pain.

This is my 4th day living a normal pain free life again and it feels great! This remedy works. I’d like to go stand in front of my urologist’s office and tell everybody about your website and get even with him for taking so much of my money paying for a visit.

Thank You Joe!!

~ Brian Reynolds, Hesperia, CA

*Your results may vary based on your situation and circumstance. The testimonials above are a result of the individuals outcome following the guidelines outlined in the Kidney Stones Removal Report. If you are not happy with our report for any reason, you are entitled to our 60 Day, No-Questions-Asked, 100% Refund.

Over 80% Of The People Who Try My Remedy Get Rid Of Their Kidney Stones… I Hope You’re One of the 80%!

Recent statistics gathered from my customers has shown that 80% of my customers have passed their kidney stones using my home remedy.

I need to be honest with you and admit that my remedy does not work for 100% of kidney stone sufferers. But the good news is, my remedy does work for the vast majority of those with kidney stones.

Why doesn’t it work 100% of the time? Because everyone is unique, and everyone with kidney stones has different sizes and types of kidney stones. Most kidney stones (80%) are made of calcium oxalate and are less than 5mm in diameter, but some kidney stones are made up of different materials (examples: uric acid, struvite, cystine, xanthine, or silicate). Also, some kidney stones are simply too large to dissolve using any natural remedy.

Fact: 256 of the last 300 people who have used my remedy have passed their kidney stones without pain!

So how can you know if you are likely to be in the 80%?

My remedy works exceptionally well if:

Your Kidney Stones Are Made Of Calcium Oxalate (You may not know what your kidney stones are made of, but Calcium Oxalate kidney stones represent over 85% of all types of kidney stones. They are by far the most common type of kidney stone.)

Your kidney stones are 7mm or less (over 90% of kidney stones are 5mm or less! And, my remedy has worked for people with stones as large as 1.2cm!) If your kidney stone is larger than 7mm, you will still want to get a copy of my remedy – but you will probably need to do the remedy two or three times over the next three days. A good analogy is this: a big block of ice takes longer to melt than a bag of ice cubes.

You have just one or two kidney stones – some people have multiple kidney stones of various sizes. I have found that the more kidney stones you have at one time, the less likely my remedy will work for you. However, I have seen a few cases where someone with multiple small stones has dissolved and passed their stones using my natural remedy.

You follow my easy, step-by-step remedy EXACTLY AS WRITTEN – Failure to follow my step-by-step instructions (detailed in my report) will lessen the likelihood of your success in dissolving and passing your kidney stones pain free

So what happens if you buy the remedy and it doesn’t work for you?

If My Remedy Doesn’t Work For You, You Get A Full Refund!

I have no problem giving you a refund if my remedy doesn’t work for you. That’s the honest and fair thing for me to do.

Here’s a recent email conversation that I had with a customer who requested a refund:

Refund Testimonials:

Dear Joe,

Thanks for your emails and the prompt refund.

I ordered this information/remedy for my 82 year old father. After discussing it with him, he explained that he was afraid to use this remedy because his kidney stone was “too large to pass” according to his physician. They tried “blasting”, which did not work; now they are going to surgically remove the stone.

~ Debbie Eason

Joe,

Thank you very much. What a hassle free and timely refund and response, almost unheard of these days.

Thank you for actually following through on what your website says, very refreshing to see.

I will save your website link and consult occasionally.

~ Don Beckers

*Your results may vary based on your situation and circumstance. The testimonials above are a result of the individuals outcome following the guidelines outlined in the Kidney Stones Removal Report. If you are not happy with our report for any reason, you are entitled to our 60 Day, No-Questions-Asked, 100% Refund.

You don’t need to worry about losing your money if my remedy doesn’t work for you. I’m an honest person, and I truly want you to be happy. I have four young boys that I’m trying to raise properly, and I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I ran an unethical business. You can trust that I will honor your refund request.

So, if you do not get the results you were hoping for, simply ask for a refund (by sending an email to [email protected]) and I’ll be happy to issue it back to your credit card immediately.

I’m sure you’re wondering how this has worked for others.

Here’s How My Natural Remedy Has Worked For Some Of My Recent Customers:

My first response after using the remedy was that it did not work.

I was mistaken.

The pain I’ve been experiencing this time didn’t seem like a kidney stone. However, in the course of ruling out a stone I was told that there were two tiny stones in my left kidney. Pain just waiting to happen. They were noted on a CT.

I used the remedy and the following week I had an IVP which not only ruled out a moving stone, it also showed that those little buggers were gone!

I am a believer now! I’ve had many stones over the past 13 years and don’t even want to know how much I’ve spent on tests and pain medication not to mention lost days and misery.

Thank you!!!

– Barbara Rooker

…I was scheduled for a cystiscope the following day, so I figured I had nothing to lose, except the agony I know that follows the procedure.

I drank the remedy at 12:45 pm…I laid down and kept drinking water…It actually wasn’t until about 10:30 pm that it started to move (the stone was on the right side in the ureter, 5mm in size, the opening to the bladder is only 4 mm, thus the problem).

I had a few minutes of slight discomfort, but nothing like what I know it can be. Then the difficulty in urinating passed! I began getting a white mucus that was the stone “melting”. The pain and pressure was gone and about 2:30 am I called the hospital to cancel the procedure!!!

The next day, I continued to drink water and have had NO PAIN SINCE!

I feel great! Thank you!!

– Dawn Iaderosa, Clifton, New Jersey

It ends up that I had two kidney stones. I tried the remedy twice and I got rid of the smaller stone that was in my left kidney. However, the bigger one is in my right kidney and it is still there. The urologist said it was a 60% chance it would pass and a 40% they would have to do surgery.

Update: I went back to the Urologist today and he looked at my IVP results. There is no Kidney Stone!!! The stone I had must have dissolved. He was at a loss for words. Your remedy worked very well. It has saved me a lot of money and it has saved me from being off of work. I did the remedy twice and it seems to have done the trick. Thank you very much!!!

– Bart Richardson, New Jersey

Hi Joe, The other night I went to outpatient with pain that was unbearable. I had a CT scan and they found 1 stone, 4mm diameter located just above the bladder. The next day I followed your remedy, and, in a couple of hours, the stone passed! I haven’t had any further problems. Your remedy worked great!

– Robert Engelbrecht

Hi Joe: Well I have to say buying your remedy to remove kidney stones was probably the best investment I have ever made! 10 hours after following your steps, the stone passed through.

I went to see the doctor 2 days later and the X-ray in fact showed that my system was clear of any kidney stones. I just wish I knew about this remedy before, thanks for having it available!

– Luis Acevedo, Chattanooga, TN

I had been in significant pain since Monday requiring a visit to the emergency room and was still in enough pain to require medication on Wednesday morning. I did not know if I would be able to go on a long weekend trip that had been planned for weeks.

At 10:00 am on Wednesday I started drinking your remedy. The rest of the day was spent running to the bathroom and still required some pain medication for the trip out of town to catch a flight Thursday morning.

I arrived at the motel for the evening at about 11:00 pm and went to the restroom. There was a significant number of fiborous looking pieces in the “stream” and I realized the pain was gone. I did not require any more pain medication to sleep all night and I had a wonderful pain free weekend.

The stone I had the last time was a uric acid stone and it took 3 trips to the operating room and about $40,000 to get rid of.

I was amazed that this remedy worked and it passed in about 12 hours. Thanks!!!

– Brad Sarff

I followed the remedy exactly as written… Within an hour of finishing it, I stopped experiencing any pain. Although I was unable to find the kidney stone (a few times I did not use a screen) I have previously passed 2 other calcium oxalate stones, but never has one passed with so little pain.

I am amazed that it passed this easily!

Thanks for saving me so much pain and suffering!!!

– James M. Holt, Groves, Texas

…A CT scan revealed 2 more stones in my left kidney (the same side all my stones have formed on) and I was supposed to have litroscopy 2 days ago. I decided to research this procedure and its risks, and I inadvertantly came across your method on the internet and thought I had nothing to lose, so I gave it a try!

I passed both stones as a gravel sedament, and when I showed up at hospital for another x-ray before my scheduled procedure, they were gone! I was absolutely amazed! (not to mention my skeptical doctor!)

The method is absolutely pain free, and so simple to follow, it’s almost too good to be true! I am in awe of the fact that more people I know have not heard of this method, and I can’t wait to read your report on kidney stone prevention.

With three little ones I have no time or patience for another pesky stone!

Thank you so much!!!

– Candy Fertig

Hi Joe, The concept is so deceptively simple, yet so astonishingly powerful. I am impressed.

Your remedy has worked fantastically well for me! For the past 36 hours I have been free of pain. Looks like the calculus is completely gone!

– Kedar Nadkarni, India

I followed your instructions and after the second time of taking your remedy, my stone passed. This really worked for me! Thank you!!!!!

– Doug Powers, Baltimore, Maryland

*Your results may vary based on your situation and circumstance. The testimonials above are a result of the individuals outcome following the guidelines outlined in the Kidney Stones Removal Report. If you are not happy with our report for any reason, you are entitled to our 60 Day, No-Questions-Asked, 100% Refund.

As you can see, my remedy has worked great for others! And it can work great for you, too!

Imagine how good you will feel after passing your kidney stones painlessly with my remedy! Your testimonial belongs on this page, too!

I’m so confident that you’ll get rid of your kidney stones pain-free using my home remedy, I am offering you a full money-back guarantee:

The Kidney Stone Removal Report comes with a no-questions-asked, no-hassle, 60 DAY money-back guarantee.

If my remedy doesn’t work for you, all you need to do is send me an email within the next 60 days and I’ll promptly refund 100% of your purchase price, no questions asked!

That’s 60 FULL DAYS to put my remedy to the test – all the risk is on me. I don’t think I could be any more fair than that!

OK, let’s summarize all of the benefits you’ll receive when you buy your copy of the Kidney Stone Removal Report:

Fast, painless relief from your excruciating pain

No harmful side effects 100% natural!

Save thousands of dollars in medical bills and hospital stays

No Stress, No Surgery! Feel healthy fast and resume living!

No more sleepless nights agonizing in extreme pain

No need for potentially addictive drugs

It tastes good much better than drinking olive oil!

Safe for diabetics and pregnant women!

So, you’ve got 2 Choices…

1. Buy My Kidney Stone Removal Report Now – and get rid of your kidney stones painlessly, in less than 24 hours, using a safe, natural and proven home remedy. It tastes good, doesn’t have any side effects, is easy to use, and will probably save you thousands of dollars.

or

2. Continue to Suffer from Your Kidney Stones! – choose to do nothing. Continue to go through with the pain even though a much better solution is being made available to you right now, for immediate download.

You can get all of these benefits for only $19.97. That’s cheaper than a cup of coffee everyday for a month! That’s cheaper than going out to the movies once!

We kindly accept Visa, Mastercard, Discover and American Express

You would have to be insane not to try my remedy at this low price. You can hardly go out to dinner for less than $50 these days.

Options: The Kidney Stone Removal Report Do Nothing Surgery Price: $19.97 one time payment Free… for now $3,000 – $9,000+ Satisfaction Guarantee: 100% Money Back Guarantee for 60 days You probably won’t be satisfied… No money back guarantee Complications & Risks: Possible food allergies (very rare) Stone could remain lodged in kidney or ureter and cause serious problems down the road Pain, hospitalization, infection, complications due to anesthesia and medications, doctor error, death Convenience: Immediate download, put the information to use within the hour using grocery store products Not very – you’ll be in pain for a lot longer time than you need to be. Very inconvenient Effectiveness of Treatment: Highly effective. Smoothes razor-sharp edges of the stones and flushes them painlessly over 80% of the time. Non-treatment hopes it will pass on its own. Sometimes it works, but very painful option. 50-65% probability to remove the kidney stones Other Benefits: Educate & improve yourself for a lifetime of excellent health Save a few dollars, maybe People might visit you, eat hospital food, watch TV as you recover What’s Your Choice? Download Your Copy of the Report Give me drugs Cut me open

DOCTOR APPROVED

As a medical doctor with over 10 years of research in the field of nutritional and alternative medicine, I’ve seen a great deal of misinformation. As I’ve read through the reports are. There is no hype or pushing a specific type of therapy, just well-researched alternative treatments and some anecdotes. People are different so there are a variety of ways to heal illnesses. These reports take this into account, giving you many options and providing the information you need to heal yourself and be independent of drugs and “experts.”

BONUS: In addition to receiving your own copy of the Kidney Stone Removal Report, you will also receive the UTI Remedy Report (a $19.97 value) – absolutely FREE when you buy today.

The Kidney Stone Prevention Report will show you exactly what you need to do so you will never get kidney stones again, including:

Little-known dietary recommendations so you can know exactly which food you can and cannot eat.

The exact amount and type of water you will need to drink every day in order to stay free from kidney stones.

Which nutritional supplements you should be taking on a daily basis that are proven to prevent kidney stones from coming back.

And much more — and it’s yours free when you buy the Kidney Stone Removal Report!

This should be an easy choice. You have nothing to lose… except your pain from kidney stones!

What are you waiting for?

We kindly accept Visa, Mastercard, Discover and American Express

For Immediate Download: Click here to order online with your credit card.

Yours for excellent health,

Joe Barton Medical Researcher, Blogger, and Kidney Stone Consultant

P.S. When you buy the Kidney Stone Removal Report, you will receive easy, step-by-step instructions on how to eliminate your kidney stones within 24 hours without any pain. You can completely avoid thousands of dollars in medical bills by using my secret formula. The ingredients required will cost you less than $10 and every grocery store in the world carries these items. My remedy works for over 80% of kidney stone sufferers, and the remedy is not available anywhere else. And, if you don’t get the results you want, all you need to do is send me an email within 90 days and I will promptly issue you a complete refund, no questions asked.

So what are you waiting for?

We kindly accept Visa, Mastercard, Discover and American Express

Thank you for the opportunity to buy this…

“I ordered this information for my husband. He woke one morning with a kidney stone, doubled over in pain. We found this offer on the internet and ordered it. Within 3 hours from the time he woke up, he passed one. He passed 3 all totaled over 2 days. THANK YOU for the opportunity to buy this!!!”

~ Beth & Terry McDonald

Press play below to hear a message from Beth…

Click Here to buy my report, and get rid of your kidney stones today with no pain, naturally, with no side effects – 100% money back guaranteed!!

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

life story part something.

Before I continue, I just wanted to give a quick apology for making an error in my previous life-story post. It was brought to my attention that it was not Britney who brought hip huggers to the scene of the late 90's, but Aaliyah RIP. Also though nobody actually sent me a message regarding this exactly, it may seem like I am picking on Britney Spears, but I really am not. She's fine. Aaliyah pants are fine. I am not an avid modern pop fan so there are a lot of things I really just do not know. I would be far more likely to know about some obscure detail about some early obscure 80's twee group than I would sometimes the most notable musicians of today.

And now. To explain my first trip to Florida.

I had never boarded a plane before. I think flying might be one of my favorite things in the world. I honestly can think of nothing better than being in the clouds looking down on everything. I don't think there has ever been a situation where I got on a plane and didn't come off that plane a better more complete human being. And to this day, if the pay was better, I was a little less of a daydreamer and more of a direct kind of person who liked facts, buttons and numbers more, and my eyesight was anything close to decent I think I would have gone to flight school, I love flying so much. We stopped at the Denver Airport, which was the biggest place I had ever been. When we got to Tampa, we had to board another plane and while that was happening, I looked out at the ocean – which I had never seen before either, and there was a cyclone out there. It was pretty wild, at least for me. I am sure local Floridians look out at the ocean casually on a daily basis and see these kinds of things. It's like when people vacation to Idaho, they often get excited about jagged rocks on the sides of canyons, and to me they are pointing out the most obvious mundane thing in the whole world.

It was also really different for me because there is a lot of culture and different skin tones that you honestly just don't see in rural Idaho. Everyone here is white, with the exception of Native Americans on occasion. There was not only people of every ethnicity, color and nationality, but the default music that played in stores was often times reggae, whereas here it's always country or Nickelback, and maybe just maybe some bad butt rock from the 80's where I come from. It was kind of eye opening for me to realize that not everywhere was Idaho.

My uncle Bob lived down in Florida. He was very rich. His job was to be one of those super attendants to super attendants for a school district in Fort Lauderdale. He had a swimming pool and a fancy motorcycle and a bunch of cars. I made the mistake of swimming one night, and he turned on the light in the pool. Suddenly, cockroaches began jumping into the swimming pool from every direction. The lizards were pretty cool however.

The air made me sick though. It was thick and murky. Idaho has very dry air that I am used to. Florida's air is like warm sticky water all around you that you can't get out of. And I am allergic to mold spores, so that was a problem. My throat swelled up and my eyes watered the whole time. Also, it was here that I learned that I have some serious issues with the ocean. I cannot be in the presence of the ocean, however fascinated I am by it, or I start to feel like I have the stomach flu, and I start to feel like I am going crazy. My father and I visited the beach. It was strange to me, but ocean beaches that are open to the public are covered with people. Idaho beaches are very easy to be alone and secluded on.

I really was enjoying myself, but then I started feeling this crazed feeling. First it felt like I was moving, and then it felt like the ground beneath me was dropping. I started crying for absolutely no reason. My father tried to ask me what was wrong and I snapped at him aggressively in a way I would never ordinarily do. This wasn't one of my typical sensitive fits I get when someone has hurt my feelings either. I really just lost my mind and had no idea what I was doing. He actually had to physically haul me off the beach as I kicked and cried. The ocean makes me crazy. I don't know why. As we drove off, I suddenly realized what had happened and I apologized. It's not that much different now that I am an adult. I was visiting the Pacific last year, and though I was able to control myself, I started getting shaky and nauseated and feeling like there was no reason to be alive, and this wasn't coming from my typical morose self. There has to be some kind of scientific backing for why this happens. I suppose I could just be that much of a landlover that even looking at the ocean makes me ill.

We went to Disney World. It was a great place if you have a million dollars to spend and are somewhat patient, but you don't want to eat there because everything is a trillion dollars and tastes like it is made out of whatever Mickey Mouse's gloves are made out of. Sadly, this is the only place I have ever heard people in real life with English accents – except maybe when I saw Richard Thompson and I am not sure, but when I saw the Arctic Monkeys, I think Alex Turner said something short once during the set.

This was also a strange visit because I hung out with my aunt Marty. I didn't really understand it back then, but she is a total racist. There are several different forms of racism naturally, and I couldn't for sure say that one was better than the last, but if I were to peg her form of racism, I would just flat out say that she was a hardcore Jim Crow racist. She was actually is just this openly vile little woman who constantly spews hatred in every which direction, but for some reason that I can only conclude leads to his own racist instincts, my uncle Bob thought it was cute for some reason for her to go on this way, and my dad would just laugh and laugh as she would go on and on with her extremely atrocious little rants. It kind of gave me a precursor to understanding the 'appeal' of Donald Trump for a lot of people. He was unabashedly hateful and racist, and people liked it because they felt like he was giving them permission to say this crap. She really seemed to randomly like me, so it confused me then, but I honestly don't think me or my siblings would have agreed to stay in a place with her. I could not sit in a room with her. She's really just that bad.

On our way to Miami we got into a car accident and we never made it there. We were in the middle of this six car pile up. I remember two girls with matching tube tops were running around upset speaking in Spanish desperately in confusion. There was this old lady that had to be taken to the hospital. My father turned his head instinctively in fear I suppose that I was not wearing my seat belt – which fortunately I was, and I have never forgotten it since because if I hadn't I would have gone flying. When he turned like this though, he permanently fucked up his neck. The super fancy old vehicle was totaled.

On our way back home a few days later, there was also some very extreme turbulence that scared me to death. We were flying over the Midwest, and the plane became very jerky. I was alerted that this was perfectly normal, and I continued to drink my ginger ale and look out the window. But it started to get more extreme. Pretty soon the entire plane was shaking and free falling. My plate of food flew off the table and women and children were crying upset. I was crying. Somehow, everything was alright, though that much turbulence was not considered to be very common. We flew out of the storm, which I heard was spread out from Indiana to North Dakota.

After Florida, life just kind of went the way it always had. Vacations don't generally fix all that much, from my experience, though I am still very glad I got to leave. I think it's very important to always have a trip planned out in the next six months. It keeps you ever hopeful for the future, and it gives you these little breaks in the monotony of what you know.

One day, I decided to play sick and skip school, presumably to get some hours in on the gameboy, get a few hours extra of sleep, eat some candy, read some chapter book about knights, princesses and dragons all that good stuff. I told my father I felt achy and nauseated. I can't say I feel too badly, but my father has always had a lot of faith that I am always telling the truth. And often times, he has good reason to believe I am, I usually am honest to a fault, am prone to oversharing and I don't just lie every time I am in a bind. I will often times rather just turn myself in. I don't believe people should lie whenever it is convenient. But this isn't to say that I don't lie. Sometimes I lie for sport. Mostly I just like to see what I can get away with. I hand select when I am dishonest, and it has to meet various requirements and the lie itself has to be somewhat satisfying. I don't think it's satisfying to lie often to make people think you are cool or to always get your way, but I have always liked to play hooky. I lied A LOT about being sick growing up, and even though most of the time it was bullshit and everyone knew that, my good old dad always believed in me. I also was always buying snacks at the local grocery store on the charge account and he never looked at the purchases that were made. He always just dutifully paid off the account every so often. To be fair here, he didn't leave any food in the house, and what would you expect a hungry preteen to do if they had a charge account at their disposal?

I was sitting in the corner on this such day, and suddenly my whole body was in the most excruciating pain I have ever felt in my entire life. My lungs stopped functioning. I felt like I was breathing rocks. My head was on fire, my jaws wouldn't move. Pain was shooting down to my toes. My muscles stopped working. I tried to tell my dad what was wrong, but no words would come out. I began convulsing. I could not even scream. I was on the floor in agony. I couldn't even move my arms voluntarily. The joints had tensed up so much. I made some kind of guttural noise of some kind and had tears running down my face, and my father was trying very hard to get me to tell him what was wrong. The pain was absolutely unimaginable, and I have to this day nothing that compares to it. He picked me up off the floor, and hauled me up the stairs. I passed out from the pain, and he put me in my bed. When I woke up two hours later, I was perfectly fine somehow. My muscles worked. I could talk. I have no idea what happened. And I never found out.

My mother moved into a new home. I think she got the lump some of the divorce money at this point, and her and Germaine were starting to have disagreements. So she began renting this brand new little white house a few blocks from where Germaine lived. I had to get rid of Crom – we gave him to James's rich family. This brand new house quickly became totally disgusting and trashed. But it was here where I first got to really enjoy cable television. My dad didn't think that tv was good for kids – he's probably got a point there. It was otherwise a completely disgusting mess though, and I often had to fight and manipulate for the best places to sleep and my rights to the controller. I think after a few years of dealing with adult's bullshit, I was starting to finally figure out how to plan ahead to put myself out of harm's way and to best benefit from my situation, if even in small little ways.

My dad would always take me to my mom's very early in the morning. He had to be at work at five am, and so we had to be on the road by 4 am. He would drop me off, and the first thing I would do when I opened the door was assess just how wasted everyone had gotten while I was at my dad's. You could tell by how the place smelled, what kind of trash was in the garbage, how long the dishes had been out, along with more obvious details like what and who was sprawled over the floor. I would make a headcount of people sprawled out on the floor, and try to establish the most pleasant place for me to rest. I would find the controller. Then I would go through my mother's bedroom while she was drunk and passed out with James in the bed, and go through her pants and coats for loose change. Often times, it would be dumped all over the floor carelessly. I would also go into the bathrooms and do the same thing. If there was anyone else there I would go through their things as well, usually finding their little baggies of drugs and pipes to get to the money. I never would take anything more than a dollar bill, but the money quickly began stacking up.

I eventually had 60 dollars, and to put that into adult perspective, that's like a 1000 dollars in Renee money today. At the end of the year, I went to an arcade and I went to the circus, and completely wasted all of it – but I didn't regret it one bit. The entire experience was perfectly delightful. I took great pleasure in being able to spend carelessly. My father kept such a tight hold of his money – I one time asked him for 25 cents and he told me the family simply couldn't afford it. This coming from someone who made over 40,000 dollars a year. I wore handmedowns, and ate left overs from the worst fast food in town. I was always on the receiving end of duties and responsibilities for my younger siblings, I had no power over my life at all. The money felt even better since I had stolen it the way I had.

Everyone around me was quite unpleasant for that entire time I stayed there. It was just a gross mess, before we finally moved again. Other than watching enormous amounts of television, I remember I would spend all day waiting for the sounds of the ice cream man to come down the road. It was the point of my existence at one point in my life to lazily lay about and anticipate the sound of ice cream man music to go down my street so I could run out there and buy a plastic tasting fudgsicle.        

to be continued.

If per chance you want to know more about this project of mine, i am writing my life story down - i have never actually done this. Here are the previous parts i have written so far.

PART 7 - http://tinyurl.com/ybvo283g

PART 6 - http://tinyurl.com/kbc9dwu

PART 5 - http://tinyurl.com/msnz4am

PART 4 - http://tinyurl.com/k9x8esg

PART 3 - http://tinyurl.com/mwp9atx

PART 2 - http://tinyurl.com/lbt6xq2

PART 1 - http://tinyurl.com/l8xbvg8

[tenspontaneite]

Fundamentals for the Aspiring Assassin (3/?)

Later, Ritsu told him that the third day was easily the worst.

In his lucid moments, he could recall parts of the last few days. He remembered sitting with Karasuma-sensei and trying to pull the disparate shards of memory together, trying to discern the mysteries steadily assembling in his brain. He remembered waking up on the hallway floor, with little idea of how he got there. He remembered waking up in excruciating pain, and talking one teacher down from killing the other.

He remembered almost nothing about the third day; not until the sun was dipping below the horizon, and the room had gone orange from the light through the curtains. He didn’t wake, so much as he became aware of being awake, sights and sounds transforming into something that had meaning, something that wasn’t just maddening noise. The room was red-and-orange and there were tentacles waving across his vision.

Nagisa stiffened at the sight of them, and they stilled.

“Nagisa-kun?”

The voice was familiar, and easy to place. “Korosensei.” He identified, and tried to sit up. His muscles twitched, but did little more – held back by something. He looked down and found yellow twined around his limbs, far softer than the rope had been, but decidedly firmer. “…What time is it?”

“It’s 6.47pm, Nagisa.” Ritsu said, her voice unusually subdued. “How are you feeling?”

Nagisa took a moment to assess his physical state. He felt…awful. “Quite bad.” He admitted, noticing that his throat felt rough and sore, his voice unusually hoarse. His body felt like a giant bruise and the headache was wreaking havoc on his ability to form coherent thoughts. He looked up, and sure enough, Korosensei was there. The sight of him… “What are you doing here, Sensei?”

The super-being emitted a long, thoughtful noise. “Why, taking care of you, Nagisa-kun!” He waved his tentacles cheerfully. Nagisa’s eyes tracked them unerringly, the sight making him feel oddly aggressive. “I have to say, I’m glad I found you last night~! Ritsu-chan might have had trouble taking care of you on her own, I think.”

Nagisa noted that he was quite thoroughly restrained. A glance around revealed that he wasn’t in the futon at all – he was, in fact, suspended carefully in the air by a tangle of yellow appendages, his head and neck tenderly supported. “I don’t remember anything.” He ventured, uneasy. “Is it the third day? …the fourth?”

One tentacle retrieved a bottle of water, another carefully shook some vitamins out of their bottle. “Only the third, nuru-fu-fu~. You haven’t had a very good day though, I have to say.” The items drifted close to his face as he was manoeuvred, with painstaking care, into an upright position. The tentacles on his arms slipped away. “Can you take these, Nagisa-kun?”

Tentatively, he reached out. His fingers were shaky and weak as they closed around the bottle, and trembled too much for him to open it. Before he could even ask, a tentacle had solved that problem, whipping the lid off in a supersonic blur of movement. A supersonic blur that, interestingly enough, he had no problem following. “…Thank you, Sensei.” He tipped the bottle back and took several small gulps, finding that his throat rebelled at the motion, the gag reflex unusually sensitive. Nausea. He’d been ill today, then? He accepted the vitamins and took them one by one, spluttering a little as he fought not to gag. “I don’t suppose I’ve eaten much today.” Nagisa sighed, taking another sip of water before allowing the bottle to be taken from him.

“You have had some difficulty keeping your food down, that’s true.” Korosensei agreed. “You’ve been quite ill – but still with a healthy bloodlust, I’m pleased to say.” He giggled, nyu-hu-hu, as though tremendously pleased by this detail.

Nagisa observed his teacher warily. “Bloodlust, Sensei?”

“You have tried to kill Korosensei numerous times today.” Ritsu informed him helpfully from nearby.

“Quite unsuccessfully, as you can see.” The super-being’s head ran through with green stripes. “I have to wonder if this treatment of yours is worth it! You’ve made far better attempts in the past.”

Nagisa narrowed his eyes. “In the past, I wasn’t half-way through intensive brain modifications.” He retorted, blinking as he remembered…something brain-related. It suddenly occurred to him that this wasn’t the first time he’d had his brain thoroughly messed with, though details weren’t forthcoming.

“That’s true.” Sensei mused, wide grin as unmoving as ever. “Still, I think there’s been some improvements, hm? You have much better motion perception now~.” He flicked a tentacle past Nagisa’s face, insanely fast, but still well within his capability to track. He flinched, proving the point quite nicely. “We’ll see if you’re any better at killing me in three days…”

The words were vaguely ominous, in the way they tended to be when inviting kill-attempts. Confident and challenging, with a little mirth.

Nagisa stared at him consideringly, eyes flicking momentarily to the case in the corner. Quite abruptly, the vivid memory of packing it came to mind. He remembered other compartments, ones he’d never seen before. He knew that computing lined the whole thing, nodes of memory and data storage in every corner, occupying even the carbon-nanotubules that were the primary reinforcement for the shell…it was paltry, compared to what Ritsu had once had available to her, but the hardware in that case was ahead of anything available this far in the past.

“…Ritsu.” He murmured, thinking hard. “Are you alright? You have barely any sensors.” It occurred to him, for the first time, that she might be feeling as wrong as he was – disembodied, almost. Stuffed down into a weak and rigid form with far too little sensory input. The knowledge of why he felt like that was almost there, a memory at the root of everything…

Korosensei looked over at the phone inquisitively as Ritsu offered a vaguely uncomfortable smile. “It’s fine, Nagisa. I’ve been branching out a little to compensate. We can talk about it later.” She looked significantly at their large yellow teacher.

“…Keeping secrets from Sensei, I see.” Korosensei said, morose.

Nagisa wasn’t paying much attention, though. He frowned, looking down, looking at limbs of yellow waving through the air and, feeling, like-

The tentacles stopped moving. The stillness was…soothing. Nagisa’s perceptions shifted with a disorientating jolt, and he realised he’d been on the edge of…something. Madness and grief and rage flickered at the edge of his thoughts, shaped like super-beings made of whipping shadows. He realised that he was sweating, breathing hard, out of nowhere-

“Nagisa-kun,” Korosensei said, keeping his many limbs motionless. “Ritsu-chan and Karasuma-sensei refuse to tell me the purpose of this headset of yours, but I worry that it is giving you some unpleasant mental conditioning. You’ve been reacting quite unpleasantly to Sensei’s friendly tentacles today.”

He kept quiet for almost a minute, desperately trying to calm himself from the sudden…something. “Sorry.” He said softly. “I don’t know why, yet.” He felt…fragile. Like a paper lantern holding in a flame. His head hurt. Colours weren’t right, suddenly.

Slowly, a tentacle began to move, reaching for the water again. Nagisa’s eyes tracked it unerringly, the motion utterly arresting, utterly infuriating, dangerous-

“Sensei, Nagisa…” He heard Ritsu, her voice unusually worried. “Nagisa, I think you might need to start your next cycle early. I don’t like the look of your brain right now.” Nagisa felt oddly cold at the words, but not afraid. Not worried.

“Ritsu-chan, he hasn’t even had dinner yet.” Korosensei pointed out, his eyes slanting outwards in a hint of unease.

“Try to take some more vitamins, it will have to do. Sensei, please fill up the headset with that fluid, too.”

A little numbly, Nagisa accepted the water and several more vitamins, fighting against his nausea to swallow each one down, fighting against the mind that kept wanting to remember-

“Quickly, Korosensei-“

He felt a shudder run down his body, sickeningly strong, like he was undergoing a completely different procedure, like something was latching onto his mind, asking what do you want to be/what can we make of you/what will you become

“Beginning cycle.”

---

The next time Nagisa woke up, he was alone with the Ritsu-phone, and he understood what was wrong with his body and senses. He knew.

“Ritsu,” he spoke, astounded at the realisation, “I was a super-being myself, wasn’t I?”

Red eyes blinked at him. “You remember, Nagisa-kun?”

“Not…really.” He admitted, raising an uncoordinated hand to rub at his eyes. “Not much. I…remember the tentacles asking me what I wanted to be.” He remembered sight and scent and sound and touch being so much more than they were now, he remembered not being confined to two hands and feet and a rigid skeleton…

Ritsu’s face on the phone was more serious than she’d ever seen it. “Do you remember what you said?”

“I…” It was a powerful memory, rooted through ­years of thoughts and emotions and experiences, like it was the foundation of everything that came after it.

What do you want to be? What will you be? What will you become?

Nagisa shuddered. “I remember.” And, with that in place, he could remember so much more. “Ritsu…I never realised how much it affected my mind. I spent decades, decades, like that…” It was one thing to know, objectively, that you weren’t the same person you’d been before the treatments. It was another thing entirely to be in a normal body, feeling like himself again.

“You were still Nagisa.” Ritsu asserted, sadly. “You were different, but you were still Nagisa. You must remember me talking about it.”

He did. (“You’re different now, Nagisa. You don’t think or feel the same way about things anymore. You can’t tell, but it’s true.”) “I handed control over to you.” He recalled, rubbing at the side of the headset as if he could reach the skull beneath. He remembered long, long years of complete trust, moving at the behest of an artificial intelligence, trusting her to know who he was when he couldn’t remember, trusting her to know what he needed to do… “Ritsu…” It was overwhelming.

“…Nagisa.” Her voice was soft. He realised that he was crying.

“The others…they all died. Didn’t they.”

Her avatar peered at him, eyes hooded with sorrow. “It’s why you took the treatments. You couldn’t manage the job alone.”

He nodded, jerkily, and breathed through the floods of emotion. The intensity was unfamiliar. He hadn’t realised how much the tentacles had dulled it. “It’s the fourth day?”

“It is.” Her avatar was less familiar to him by now than the electronic voice in his head, but it was still unbearably reassuring to see her there. “Korosensei has decided to supervise you as much as he can for the rest of the process, but I sent him away for class so that we could speak.”

“Korosensei…” Nagisa could remember the previous evening, a little. “He was here yesterday, wasn’t he? And something went wrong.”

“You were unstable the whole day, Nagisa, and quite ill too.” Ritsu put her virtual face in her virtual hands, as though tired by the memory. “You had quite violent flashbacks throughout the day, and reacted badly almost every time Sensei moved his tentacles too quickly. You vomited every time you ate anything more filling than vitamins. I realised in the evening that, well, you were sort of at a tipping point – at a stage where you needed to have more done or your brain wouldn’t be functional. You...nearly had some very bad seizures.”

He sort of remembered that. “Was that when you put me out early?”

“It was. It came on quite suddenly.” Ritsu’s avatar looked down, shame-faced. “I’ll be watching more closely now. But you should be over the hill, so to speak – things should get easier.”

“My memory is certainly better.” Nagisa agreed, looking dubiously at his trembling fingers. “These tremors, though…”

“They’ll get worse before they get better. It will be a while before you can work on them.”

“Well, after the last cycle.” He sighed. “So, have I given anything important away?”

“I’m quite sure that Sensei doesn’t know about the time travel yet.” His AI overlord claimed. “He thinks you’re being conditioned to be aggressive towards him and is quite upset about it. He’s noticed the case, but taken me at my word that I’ll blow it up if he tries to get in or take it away. The rest of the class haven’t given anything away, either. Hopefully we can take him by surprise.”

Nagisa frowned, trying to recall. “With…the upgrade?” He muttered, brows furrowed. “That was one of the objectives, wasn’t it?”

“We only have the one vial for now. If you can get the drop on him, it’ll be enough. Otherwise we’ll have to make more.” She paused. “Do you remember any other objectives?”

“…Kidnapping scientists?” He guessed, knowing it wasn’t right but unable to place the memory.

Ritsu giggled. “Not quite, Nagisa. I suppose we’ll just have to wait for the next cycle.”

---

Nagisa was lucid enough that morning that he managed to get up, get to the kitchen, and fetch his own breakfast. Unfortunately, Korosensei ended up returning almost the very moment he began hacking that breakfast back up again.

“This is a bit embarrassing, sensei…” He muttered, not bothering to resist, as he was suspended in mid-air by tentacles and painstakingly cleansed. “None of it even hit me. You got a bucket at Mach-20 speeds and made sure I didn’t make a mess.”

“You are ill, Nagisa-kun! I will take perfect care of you, or how could I face you as your teacher?!”

It was somewhat startling, to suddenly be in this position. Even without taking the time travel into account…Nagisa himself had never been on the receiving end of Korosensei’s pampering tendencies very much. There had been a couple of times that his teacher had fixed his hair up, but troublemakers like Karma had attracted the aggressive caretaking far more frequently. Then again, he’d never been visibly ill in the presence of Korosensei that he could remember, either.

He saw tentacles flash by, carrying- “Sensei!” He objected, turning red. “I can change my own clothes!” No matter how high-speed the change-over would be, he was perfectly happy not to have his teacher implement a change of underwear, thank you very much. Thankfully, the tentacles stilled at his words, some of his own clothes from his teenage years hanging over them. “…Did you go to my house, Korosensei?”

“Of course!” The looming yellow super-being proclaimed, cheerfully. The waving tentacles made a number of his old, old reflexes twitch unhappily, but they didn’t arrest his control like they had before. Thankfully. “No one else could do it, considering you’re meant to have been kidnapped, and you could hardly stay in the same clothes all week, Nagisa-kun! Ngyuuu~.”

Nagisa sighed, because actually, that was quite helpful. “Well…thank you, sensei. I can change on my own, though.”

“Hmmmm, well, if you insist,” Korosensei pondered, putting him gently down to the bathroom floor. “I’ll leave you for a while, then! I’ll be listening to make sure you don’t fall over.” In a rush of air, he was gone and the door was closed. His clean clothes were also folded neatly on the floor – and they were, in fact, pyjamas. Well…that seemed logical enough, since he was unlikely to be leaving the futon much.

Nagisa scrutinised the door for a moment, but decided against locking it. It wasn’t as though a locked door would stop Korosensei if he felt he needed to get in, after all. He went about his bathroom tasks quickly, fully aware that Sensei probably wouldn’t be held at bay for long, and sighed with satisfaction as he pulled on the provided (clean!) clothing. Pyjamas really were more comfortable than school clothes, too – they’d undoubtedly be far more suited for the task of laying around all day. He eyed himself critically in the mirror as he put the last button into place, fingers shaking hard enough that it took several tries.

His reflection was decidedly more haggard-looking than it had been before, with heavy bags under its eyes and an unhealthy pallor to its skin. The tremor looked much more alarming from a third-person perspective, too – honestly, he looked like he might fall over at any moment. He could sort of see why Korosensei was fussing so much.

Nagisa sighed at his reflection, untying his braided hair and making a token attempt to sort it all more neatly. He managed to get as far as picking up a comb, whereupon he apparently triggered Korosensei’s grooming senses or something, because the next second there was a mass of yellow brushing the door aside at astounding speed. The comb was snatched from his hand in mere moments, while other tentacles quested through the room in search of products.

“Let me take care of that for you, Nagisaa-kun!” Korosensei invited himself, promptly combing his hair out, applying dry shampoo, combing again, braiding, and tying in approximately the time it took him to say the words. Thus, in the space of several seconds, Nagisa found himself feeling significantly neater. The air around his head was also considerably warmer from the speed of Korosensei’s movements, but that was alright.

“...Thank you, sensei.” He offered, blinking. “Aren’t you supposed to be teaching at the moment?”

“Your classmates are doing some practice questions right now. I’ll go back to mark everything in a few minutes, hu-hu.” Sensei gathered Nagisa up into his tentacles without a further word, returning to the sitting room in a blur. “Your classmates are worried about you, you know. Ritsu-san isn’t telling them very much.”

“There are reasons for that.” Ritsu claimed, imperiously. “Besides, there’s only two cycles left. They can wait.”

Her words were a balm to Nagisa’s soul. “Thank goodness.” He sighed. “Only two more…”

“How do you plan to return, Nagisa-kun?” Korosensei asked, setting him down on the futon and passing him an opened water bottle. “After all, your parents think you’ve gone missing. There will probably be a fuss, don’t you think?”

“Ah…well, I’m planning to claim amnesia, but I’m not sure about anything else.” He answered, frowning a little. “I’d prefer to avoid having to go to the hospital, not only because of the bills, but because of what they’ll find in the blood tests.” He made a face at the water, but had a little anyway. “If you’re in the picture now, sensei…do you think you could drop me in another city? That way I could just go to the police station and have them contact my mother…and I can refuse medical treatment more easily, too.”

His teacher nodded, wide grin bobbing up and down. “I would be happy to, Nagisa-kun. I’ll even supervise from a distance to make sure you get to the police station safely. Be sure to think about the details of your plan over the next few days. Make it an assignment, even.”

Despite everything, Nagisa couldn’t help but smile at that. “I will.”

“Good, good…” Korosensei’s tentacles waved out in approving ripples. “I have to return to your classmates now, Nagisa-kun, but I will come back soon!”

And, with that, he was gone, leftover winds ruffling the sheets. The cap of the water bottle settled into place by Nagisa’s phone. He sighed.

“Everything alright?” Ritsu inquired from the phone.

Nagisa waved a hand at his now-immaculate hair in answer. “Just…Korosensei.” He explained, putting the water down so that he could lay down. “He’s so…” He struggled to find the words to describe it.

“Himself?” His oldest friend offered. “Nostalgic? Familiar? Overwhelming?”

“All of that.” Nagisa agreed, quite worn out by it all. “But especially the last. I’ve had so long to get over our graduation, but even so…”

“It’s different now that he’s actually here.” Ritsu sympathised. “I understand. It was hard for me, too – except I process things more quickly, so I got over it not long after he arrived.”

“Aa. Must be nice.”

“I suppose.” She harrumphed, simulated face falling into a pout. “If I didn’t have all my work to do, I’d be so bored. Having so little processing power is painful, Nagisa. I feel so…slow.”

He held up a hand to watch it tremble. “I think I understand.” He said ruefully.

---

Despite the fourth cycle having clearly helped, Nagisa wasn’t perfectly lucid the whole day. Later, when Korosensei returned, the sight of him was so profoundly shocking that he started choking on his own saliva.

“Koro….sensei?” He gasped, in between coughs.

“Agh, Nagisa-kun, breathe!” The teacher in question implored, tentacles waving frantically, two of which went alarmingly close to his face. “Do you need me to do the Heimlich? Is there something obstructing your throat?!”

“I’m fine,” Nagisa wheezed, heart clenching in his chest as he looked up and up at the tall super-being who had done so much for him. “Sensei…”

Yellow limbs rubbed soothingly at his back. “Hmm?”

“…Didn’t you die, sensei?”

The round, grinning face observed him for a moment. “Despite your best efforts, Nagisa-kun, I am very much alive.” He snickered, nyu-hu-hu, and went momentarily green-striped.

Nagisa remembered the Shield of Earth flickering in the sky, and a knife in his hand, and so many tears he couldn’t see.

He decided not to argue. He was too tired to figure this out. “Okay, sensei.”

---

By the evening, Nagisa could conclude that it was probably the best day of the procedure yet, despite his inability to eat much, and a few momentary lapses of awareness. This was largely due to the fact that he was lucid and coherent for almost the entire time, and he even managed to fall asleep naturally when he got tired, rather than needing Ritsu to induce it.

Part of the credit, however, undoubtedly went to Korosensei.

As soon as he’d finished with classes, he shamelessly invaded Karasuma’s house to flagrantly pamper Nagisa. He bought all sorts of food from all over Japan, trying to find something that wouldn’t set off his nausea. He tested the articulation of his joints, and having deemed him stiff and sore from extended bed-rest, promptly transformed the bathroom into a makeshift spa for him.

Nagisa tried to insist that the manicure and pedicure were unnecessary, but he was thoroughly ignored. At the very least, there was no nail art, or even paint.

One of the most bizarre parts was probably the massage, given how unused to non-combative contact he’d grown, but frankly Nagisa had lived long enough that he could deal with the strangeness of it. He really was stiff and sore, after all. Lying in one place for the majority of four days would do that.

Really, though, the strangest thing was being treated like a precious student again. He’d completely forgotten the thorough, thoughtful care that Korosensei had bestowed on their class – or, rather, he’d forgotten what it felt like. It wasn’t something any of them had ever experienced again after graduation, and the return to it was…soothing. Heartwarming, even.

Nagisa hardly knew what to do with himself. He supposed he’d never really gotten over Korosensei’s death. None of them had.

“Thank you for taking care of me, sensei.” He murmured, as he was presented with a warm cup of herbal tea. Surprisingly enough, it didn’t set off his nausea at all.

“You’re very welcome, Nagisa-kun.” A yellow tentacle extended to the other side of the room, returning with a book. “Now, I believe we have a few hours this evening…Ritsu-san tells me you should remember things you learn now, so why don’t we catch you up on your studies?”

Nagisa blinked, and glanced at Ritsu. She shrugged at him. “You’re quite stable now, Nagisa. I think you should remember any new things you learn, at least a little.” She stared meaningfully at him. “And it might be helpful to test things you already know, too.”

He nodded, slowly, and obligingly turned to Korosensei. “Can we start with English?”

“Your best subject? Hm, I suppose you are recovering.” The man tapped a yellow finger to his chin, contemplative. “Very well, then. I’d like you to translate these phrases for me…”

It swiftly became evident that he was, in fact, mostly fluent in English by this point. Evident enough that Korosensei swiftly noticed, posed him more and more difficult things to decode, and then eventually began flat-out conversing with him in the language.

“You were not this good at English a few days ago, Nagisa-kun.” Korosensei observed, in the language being discussed. “Is this something to do with that headgear of yours?”

Nagisa answered slowly, and not just because he had to be careful about what he said. The words and knowledge were there, but his mouth wasn’t used to shaping the words, and it took longer to think about than he thought it should have. “The headset is artificially forming connections in my brain,” He said, enunciating every word with as much precision as he could manage. “I already know a lot of things I didn’t before. Soon, I’ll know more.”

Korosensei stared at him. As always, his grin didn’t change, but he did seem a little surprised. “Nuruu? That is quite valuable. In that case, I understand your risk-taking better than before. Did you know how much you would be learning when you agreed to this?”

“I knew fluency in English would be included, and I was also given an estimate of the volume of the information.” Nagisa answered honestly. “What I’m ending up with is more than I expected, though.” His pre-procedure self certainly hadn’t guessed that he’d be receiving a head full of super-being reflexes, as well as over a century of memory.

“Very interesting, Nagisa-kun. Your English is certainly very good. Why, Nakamura-san doesn’t stand a chance at beating you for marks, now. She will certainly be annoyed!”

Nagisa laughed, remembering the tenacious woman that the tenacious girl had grown into. “Yes, I expect so.”

“And, the accent is interesting, too. I can’t quite place it.” Korosensei seemed earnestly intrigued, if his expression and tentacles were anything to go by.

His accent was a bit of a bastard amalgamation at this point, given the variety of people he’d been speaking with over the years. “Ah, it will be a mix of things.” He informed, thinking back on the English-speakers he’d communicated most with. British, Irish, Australian, American….he’d been exposed to almost every English accent under the sun. He paused, and added “I should be able to speak other languages, too.”

His teacher’s tentacles perked up, rippling with interest. “Oh, is that so?”

“None as well as English.” He nodded, a little bashful at the evident fascination. “But…hypothetically, I should know at least thirty languages now, at least to a basic conversational level.”

“…Nyuya?!”

---

Korosensei ended up spending most of the evening testing his linguistic skills. He managed to run through Spanish, French, Russian, Mandarin, Korean, Italian, Thai, and Portuguese before he ran out of languages he was fluent enough to test. By the time Karasuma-sensei got home, Nagisa was helping Korosensei improve his skill in Catalan, a feat made quite easy by both its similarity to other languages and also Korosensei’s superhuman intellect. Teaching Korosensei was satisfying in the same way it was satisfying to teach AIs…or, well, superbeings. He just learned things, soaking vocabulary up like a sponge.

Karasuma observed the clearly-not-Japanese conversation taking place on the floor in his sitting room with wary interest. “…I’m almost afraid to ask.” He commented, flatly, making his way through to settle in an armchair.

“Ah, Karasuma-sensei!” Korosensei greeted, cheerfully, waving a rippling arm in welcome. “Nagisa-kun is helping me with my language skills!”

Karasuma’s eyebrows went straight up. The look he gave Nagisa made him flush like a schoolboy…which, technically, he now was. “…Nagisa, helping you.” He voiced, neutrally.

“I know a lot of languages now.” Nagisa explained, a little embarrassed by all the attention.

“An understatement, Karasuma-sensei! I have to admit; the risk of permanent brain damage seems almost worth it for all this learning! And I’m sure there’s far more than languages involved if it was approved for my assassination, nyu-hu-hu…”

Nagisa smiled up at his teacher. It really was convenient how Korosensei easily accepted that the headset had to be for the benefit of killing him. Such egotism was quite useful. “Honestly, sensei, I was a little worried you’d think it was cheating.”

“Information is an assassin’s greatest tool, Nagisa-kun.” Korosensei said, unintentionally echoing Karasuma. “And even if it weren’t, I’m your teacher…and a teacher is always happy to see his students learn.”

He’d had many of his own students over the years. He could agree with that. “On that note, Sensei…How about learning some more languages?”

The superbeing’s arm-tentacles flexed suspiciously. “Wouldn’t you prefer to learn something new yourself, Nagisa-kun?” Still, there was no disguising the hints in his expression and limbs; it was overwhelmingly obvious that he’d only require the slightest justification to agree. He smiled, reminded that his old teacher had himself never stopped learning while he was alive. And now, he was alive. He could go on learning.

“It’ll help me integrate the new information properly, so I’d find it very useful.” Nagisa assured him. “Rehearsing what the headset has given me will help my brain adapt to it properly.”

As he’d expected, that was all that Korosensei needed to hear. The tips of tentacles wriggled with delight. “In that case, let’s try Arabic! Do you know that one?”

Nagisa laughed softly, a little self-conscious under Karasuma’s stare. “Ah, I do. I’d say it’s about as good as my Italian, though the writing’s harder. Would you like to start with that? Once you’ve memorised the essentials of the writing system, it will be much easier.”

“Perfect, Nagisa-kun! I’ll just grab some writing tools!”

---

On the fifth day, the headset had imparted enough of the neurological changes that once-hazy memories were becoming concrete, and evasive information was now within his grasp. There was a significant downside to this: his future brain, which had adapted to far superior physical capabilities and a host more available limbs, was now wholly out-of-place in a regular human body. The shaking and tremors that had begun building were now severe enough that he couldn’t walk safely on his own, and he couldn’t hold even a water bottle without dropping it. Sometimes, a motion he’d intended to go in a particular way did the opposite instead, which generally led to his remaining limbs lurching suddenly in directions he’d not intended at all.

“I tried to mitigate the effects, Nagisa. I’m sorry.” Ritsu fretted, watching as he shook and trembled horribly at the mere action of sitting up. “Even though I know so much about the brain, its systems are so inter-connected, I couldn’t leave out too much of some parts without making the whole thing fail…”

“We prepared for this, Ritsu. I knew I’d be useless for a while after the procedure.” Nagisa reminded her, voice shaky and halting along with everything else. Frankly, he far preferred this state of affairs to the mental instability and delirium of the third day, but it was still a pain to deal with. On top of that, he was still undergoing dramatic neurological changes every day, and the headaches were immense. “At least my peripheral nervous system isn’t affected.” If they’d had to find a way to carry that over, his heart might not even beat properly. Thankfully, it wasn’t a necessary part of the procedure.

“There is that.” She agreed, sighing. “Still, once it’s finished we can get to work with your rehab. You should start plotting out the details for your return.”

He smiled at her, lopsided and mischievous from his lopsided position. “Like you’ve not already calculated everything, down to the smallest detail?”

“If I do all of your prep work for you, you’ll never learn to do it yourself,” Ritsu sniffed, turning up her avatar’s nose. It was a well-worn exchange between the two of them. “And then what sort of sorry assassin would you be?”

“One who isn’t very self-sufficient, probably.” Nagisa agreed, sighing as he attempted to form a solid fist. He wasn’t very successful. “I’ll spend the day thinking through everything, I suppose. And then you can tweak my plan as you like.”

She giggled. “Much obliged.”

Nagisa observed the empty bedside with a vague, lonely sense of loss. “I suppose since Korosensei won’t be here much today, we don’t need to watch our words, either.”

“…Aa.” He and Ritsu exchanged a light frown. Korosensei, after all, was currently supervising the class at the pool he’d arranged.

While she’d arrived back within an acceptable time-frame, it wasn’t ideal. For one…’Shiro’ would shortly be making another appearance, while Nagisa was still incapacitated and unable to do much about it. Chances to strike at someone like that off of his home ground were few and far between. Ritsu could guess quite accurately how long it would be until the whole river debacle…but he couldn’t act.

“Soon.” Ritsu assured him, after a moment. “I’m gathering resources. By the time you’re ready to use them, we should be set.”

He nodded, once. Then he sighed, and started planning.

So…how do I make sure not to end up spending weeks in the hospital when I reappear?

---

Karasuma returned earlier than Korosensei that day, considering his duties as a teacher weren’t exactly thick on the ground on a pool day. Quietly, he observed Nagisa’s inept attempts at almost any sort of voluntary movement, and efficiently set to work helping him.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” Nagisa murmured, as he was supported upright. Obediently, he opened his mouth to be fed the multivitamins, grateful that the nausea had mostly passed. He refused to feel any shame at his incapacitation as a bottle was held to his lips for him to drink.

“It’s fine.” Karasuma replied, and said nothing more on the matter. He was comfortingly direct: if he said it was fine, it absolutely was. Nagisa watched him, curiously, and…yes, he thought that all this hardship he was enduring might actually be increasing the agent’s respect for him. Always a good thing, that.

The evening passed uneventfully, for the most part, except for when Korosensei dropped in to find Karasuma feeding Nagisa, which he apparently considered his sworn duty.

“You weren’t here, and he needed dinner. There’s no sense in complaining.” Karasuma told the superbeing directly, sounding distinctly unimpressed with his hysterics.

“But thorough, tender care and maintenance is my thing, Karasuma-sensei!” Korosensei near-shrieked, having plucked the bowl and spoon out of his colleague’s hands the moment he spotted them. Now, he loomed protectively between Nagisa and his other teacher, tentacles undulating with a sort of vengeful upset. “And besides, I’m clearly much better suited for it!” Several yellow limbs supported Nagisa in a perfectly comfortable upright position while one other guided the food to his mouth, an admittedly much more stable configuration than what Karasuma’s two hands had been capable of. Nagisa had to restrain a giggle around the spoon as he watched a guarding veil of tentacles form around him, the twitch to their movements practically shouting of petty outrage. “You’re always trying to find ways to be more popular with the students than me, Karasuma-sensei…”

“You’re delusional.” The accused instructor stated, flatly, taking his leave of the room with an irritated scowl.

“…You’re being quite rude to him, Korosensei.” Nagisa pointed out, in the wake of Karasuma’s exit, and watched the tentacular cradle ripple with sudden agitation. “Did you even apologise for strangling him the other day?”

Korosensei flailed a little, flustered. “Nyuaa….well…no. But that is…!” He scrambled for words, round face quivering with dismay.

If Nagisa were Karma, he’d likely have pressed it further, and made sly remarks about the example Korosensei was setting for his students, fanning the fluttering into full-blown paroxysms of penitence. He was not Karma, however, and didn’t have any particular drive to needle his long-lost teacher for petty amusement. “You should maybe do that soon, sensei.” He said, and diverted the topic in another direction. “In the meantime…”

His teacher’s movements settled a little, the small eyes in his round face peering at him inquisitively. “Hmmm?”

The muscles in Nagisa’s face were as shaky as the rest, but he was still capable of controlling them: he affected a vaguely embarrassed, imploring smile, allowing the tremble to make him seem especially helpless. Physically, he was exactly that helpless against a being like Korosensei. Psychologically, though…

Weakly, with large soft eyes, he said “Sensei, I’m a little hungry still.” And waited.

An entire superbeing’s worth of tentacles exploded into impassioned, nurturing action. Distraction: success.

He did hope that Korosensei would apologise to Karasuma soon, though. Unwarranted strangulation seemed like something that could lead to grudges, if left to fester.

---

Then, finally, he was sitting by to be prepared for his final session. Korosensei efficiently refilled the headset’s nanomachine supply, fed him his pills, and gingerly lowered him to his futon. “I understand this is to be your last session with that headset, Nagisa-kun.” He said, ponderously.

Nagisa nodded, emitting a very relieved sigh at the idea. “I’ll need follow-up sessions for a while after, to make sure everything is settling correctly. But, unless something goes wrong, I shouldn’t need my spine tapped again.”

“Hmm…” The slow, dour curl of the tentacles indicated the turn of Korosensei’s thoughts. “…I would very much like to know who offered you this...treatment.” The two broad digits concluding his main handling appendages gently lifted his braid out of his face, setting it over his shoulder.

Nagisa blinked at him, serenely. “Aa.” He acknowledged, and deliberately did not say any more.

The digits drew back. “Well then…goodnight, Nagisa-kun. We will talk more tomorrow.”

---

On the sixth day, Nagisa woke with the knowledge that he was mercifully done with having his brain rewritten, but also with the most uncooperative body he’d ever had to endure.

“Oh dear.” Ritsu looked very sympathetic from his phone screen as he demonstrated his inability to do pretty much anything beyond pointless flailing. “That looks very annoying. Recovery might be longer than anticipated.”

Nagisa stared at her, and just about restrained himself from saying something very rude in the futuristic parlance that, given time travel, only they remained privy to. As it was, he likely wouldn’t have even managed to successfully shape the syllables.

“…Is this expected, Ritsu-san?” Korosensei asked, several seconds after Nagisa’s attempt to communicate mostly resulted in highly slurred spluttering. As to be expected at this point in the timeline, he was spurting mucus gratuitously, and had put down waterproof tarps to protect Karasuma’s house.

He couldn’t even communicate in sign language, given the terrible coordination of his hands. He couldn’t even scowl properly. And, of course, the headset had to stay on in the interests of augmenting his recovery for at least another day. It was technically active now, but since it was only reinforcing native functions rather than exercising its own, the pain was limited to frequent stabbing twinges rather than unrelenting agony.

“It isn’t unexpected.” Ritsu hedged. “We knew that there would be severe disruptions in almost all systems involving voluntary movement, but it’s hard to predict exactly what will happen, given the complexity of the brain.” She paused. “Thankfully, practice should cause rapid improvement, given the substances in his body. We should see significant improvement by the end of the day.” A pointed look was aimed in Nagisa’s direction, and he sighed, obediently setting to work flexing his fingers as a decent starting point. Of course, the movements were jerky and uncoordinated, but even that would help.

Korosensei observed him with concern for a while. “Nagisa-kun, is it safe for you to chew food at this point? Is there a risk of biting into your tongue?”

He blinked, surprised at the question. He’d not actually thought of that. Experimentally, he worked the muscles of his jaw, trying hard to keep his tongue still. The motion was difficult, but he thought he could keep his tongue clear well enough. Even so…he wasn’t certain. He shrugged apologetically as a response.

“Hm.” His teacher expressed, and then he blurred out of the room. A few seconds later, he returned with several cans of soup in a shopping bag, and a few limbs set out to the kitchen with them. “We’ll have to go with a liquid diet for now, to be safe!” He proclaimed, tentacles oscillating around him.

“That’s probably safest.” Ritsu agreed.

Nagisa tried to say ‘I really hope I can recover quickly’, but without the fine control of the many muscles involved in talking, it came out horrifically slurred, and probably well beyond the comprehension of even Ritsu’s voice recognition programs.

He sighed. And, because his speech wasn’t going to improve unless he practiced, he tried to comment ‘this is going to be a long day’.

“…Maybe I’ll spend the day making a new speech recognition program.”

---

Nagisa didn’t start his attempts to recover in earnest until Korosensei left. As much as he knew that his teacher would never hold his repeated failures at coordination against him, he did still retain a measure of pride, and preferred not to demonstrate such a profound level of incapacitation in front of someone he admired.

Thus, once his teacher had left for class, Nagisa determinedly set to work with his rehabilitation. For the most part, this involved a lot of frenetic flailing in his futon while Ritsu observed his brain and prodded processes in the right direction.

The work of Ritsu through the headset was now far more involved. Where before she’d been growing his brain into the broad shape of what it had been in the future, now she was watching and applying her nanobots with pin-point precision. It required every ounce of the processing power they’d brought back in the case.

So, when he extended his arm and it didn’t work correctly, Ritsu was looking at the neurons firing in his heavily altered brain. With the nanomachines and their legion of synthesised proteins, she tried to reconcile the connections trying to form and the ones the headset had imposed, tying together all of the many, many loose ends. With luck, she might be able to preserve the good things – like his improved reaction time – while getting rid of the connections which relied on a very different body.

Essentially, she was overwriting a fair bit of the work she’d done over the last six active cycles. She had the extensive pre-treatment scan to go off of, so it wasn’t like she had nothing to refer to. However, to see where the problem areas were in the first place, he had to trigger them. Hence the flailing.

As one might expect, writhing energetically without pause was a fairly strenuous activity. Given his previous superhuman condition, Nagisa honestly wasn’t sure how to rate his current stamina – it had been a while since he assessed himself using human norms. At any rate, he ended up breathing hard with exertion after less than fifteen minutes of all-out activity, which was appalling by his remembered standards. He tested his ability to extend an arm and make a fist, and deemed it insufficient for the provision of the water bottle at the bedside.

By the time lunch rolled around and Korosensei dropped by to check on him, Nagisa was absolutely parched, and drenched in sweat. The futon was in a bit of a sorry state as well, but given his current level of coordination, it wasn’t really safe for him to exercise anywhere else.

He sighed with relief on seeing Korosensei, but kept his mouth shut, trusting Ritsu to communicate his needs.

“It seems you’ve not been neglecting your exercise, Nagisa-kun. I’m pleased to see it.” The supercreature observed cheerfully, several tentacles already in the kitchen going about their tasks.

“He’ll need food and drink, Sensei, and many of the vitamins.” Ritsu explained. “A bit of a wash probably wouldn’t hurt, either.”

Nagisa grimaced and nodded fervently, not at all comfortable with the way his pyjamas were sticking to his skin.

Korosensei gathered himself up, eyes gleaming. “It shall be done.” He intoned, tentacles expanding across the room in a garishly yellow lattice of movement. Nagisa eyed them, resigned, and waited for the cosseting to ensue.

---

After a very speedy seeing-to of all of Nagisa’s requirements, Korosensei returned to class. He commented, just before leaving, that he might be back late, because ‘Terasaka-kun has recruited the class for an after-school assassination, nyu-hu-hu’. His head was distinctly stripy as he said it, quite clearly expressing his opinion on the likelihood of said attempt’s success.

The knowledge that his classmates’ lives would shortly be at risk, as well as his teacher’s, put Nagisa into a decidedly grimmer mood. About an hour after he was left alone with Ritsu, he began to worry that some small divergence might make things go badly wrong, and set to work focusing on the movement of his hands. Two hours after lunch, he’d recovered enough control of his fingers to sign, shakily, ‘Warn Korosensei’. Korosensei’s name sign was, of course, a garbled blend of ‘kill’ and ‘teacher’.

Ritsu observed him with interest. “About the assassination attempt this afternoon?”

Slowly, Nagisa pressed his hands into service, forming ‘Yes’, and then ‘danger to team, danger to teacher’.

“So, warn him that there might be a danger to the class and to be on his guard?” She pressed.

‘Concerned about time changes’, Nagisa explained briefly, and continued ‘warn about scientist’.

The AI kept silent to prognosticate for a while, most likely considering the best options for the content of the warning. “I will tell him that I have information on the movements of ‘Shiro’, and that he is orchestrating the event today through an unsuspecting Terasaka. I will tell him to be on guard regarding danger to the students and the threat posed to him by Shiro and Itona. Should I mention the allergen that has been used against him?”

Nagisa took a moment to think. He raised his hands, signing ‘Yes’.

“Very well. I’ll dispatch the text message.” Her avatar stilled, very briefly. “Done. I’ll let you know if he makes any reply. You should return to your exercises.”

He sighed, some of his tension dissipating. With Korosensei forewarned, it was very unlikely that anything serious would go wrong. The man was more than intelligent enough to think of a thousand contingencies given their tip and the time available to him.

Clumsily, Nagisa saluted his AI overlord, and resumed his work.

---

Their warning to Korosensei had yielded a quick response: a text reading ‘Thank you for the warning, Ritsu-san.’ He didn’t ask about the origin of the information, but that was no guarantee that he wouldn’t later.

Nagisa spent his time flailing with a particular emphasis on his hands, since they were currently his best option for communicating. Ritsu noticed his focus and cut it short not an hour after the dispensation of their warning. “Nagisa,” She explained, patiently. “Garbled speech will alarm people far more than a bit of shakiness, and also most people don’t know sign language. Improving your speech is clearly your biggest priority at this point.”

He sighed, conceding the point. He kept silent for several moments, consideringly, and then started babbling out the set of rules that had been affectionately nicknamed the ‘Tentaclauses’ by the recruits who’d had them drummed into their heads. Ritsu’s software had evidently progressed enough by that point for her to recognise it, because she giggled at him, evidently amused.

Once he was half-way through his second iteration of the regulations in question, Ritsu interrupted, saying “Nagisa, there’s a much more fun way we could be doing this.”

Her avatar looked suspiciously mischievous. He eyed her warily, and then jolted in alarm as his phone suddenly started blaring out quite familiar music. It only took a few bars for him to realise that the words had been omitted.

‘I’m not sure now is the time for karaoke’, he suggested to her, knowing that any complaint in this was likely very much a lost cause. Ritsu adored strong-arming people into karaoke – it harked back to her early years as an AI deeply enamoured with music.

“Nagisa-kuuun,” She crooned at him, the volume of the music abating slightly as she spoke. “There has never been a better time for karaoke. I’ll start you off!”

Without further ado, she sprang into ‘singing’, which was really her just playing her voice singing the lyrics at a slightly lower volume than typical. Nagisa rolled his eyes at her, quite aware that there was no talking to Ritsu when karaoke was involved. It was really no surprise that their faction had ended up as the most musically-focused in space.

He opened his mouth, resigned to his fate, and started garbling the words of Senbonzakura in time with his AI overlord. She gave him two approving thumbs-up, and the volume soared.

Naturally, karaoke ended up being stupidly helpful for his recovery.

---

End chapter.

Notes: Korosensei is tricky, but I like writing the tentacles. Ritsu is a vocaloid at heart and adores music. ‘Senbonzakura’ is a vocaloid song by ‘Hatsune Miku’, who incidentally shares a voice actress with Ritsu. The song in question also has a Ritsu version in the Assassination Classroom soundtrack. I prefer it to the original.

Next chapter should feature Nagisa’s reintroduction to the world, and incidentally lots of related adjustment issues. Some beans may also be spilled. We’ll see.

Thank you to everyone who liked/commented/reblogged.

[allenmendezsr]

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Recent statistics gathered from my customers has shown that 80% of my customers have passed their kidney stones using my home remedy.

I need to be honest with you and admit that my remedy does not work for 100% of kidney stone sufferers. But the good news is, my remedy does work for the vast majority of those with kidney stones.

Why doesn’t it work 100% of the time? Because everyone is unique, and everyone with kidney stones has different sizes and types of kidney stones. Most kidney stones (80%) are made of calcium oxalate and are less than 5mm in diameter, but some kidney stones are made up of different materials (examples: uric acid, struvite, cystine, xanthine, or silicate). Also, some kidney stones are simply too large to dissolve using any natural remedy.

Fact: 256 of the last 300 people who have used my remedy have passed their kidney stones without pain!

So how can you know if you are likely to be in the 80%?

My remedy works exceptionally well if:

Your Kidney Stones Are Made Of Calcium Oxalate (You may not know what your kidney stones are made of, but Calcium Oxalate kidney stones represent over 85% of all types of kidney stones. They are by far the most common type of kidney stone.)

Your kidney stones are 7mm or less (over 90% of kidney stones are 5mm or less! And, my remedy has worked for people with stones as large as 1.2cm!) If your kidney stone is larger than 7mm, you will still want to get a copy of my remedy – but you will probably need to do the remedy two or three times over the next three days. A good analogy is this: a big block of ice takes longer to melt than a bag of ice cubes.

You have just one or two kidney stones – some people have multiple kidney stones of various sizes. I have found that the more kidney stones you have at one time, the less likely my remedy will work for you. However, I have seen a few cases where someone with multiple small stones has dissolved and passed their stones using my natural remedy.

You follow my easy, step-by-step remedy EXACTLY AS WRITTEN – Failure to follow my step-by-step instructions (detailed in my report) will lessen the likelihood of your success in dissolving and passing your kidney stones pain free

So what happens if you buy the remedy and it doesn’t work for you?

If My Remedy Doesn’t Work For You, You Get A Full Refund!

I have no problem giving you a refund if my remedy doesn’t work for you. That’s the honest and fair thing for me to do.

Here’s a recent email conversation that I had with a customer who requested a refund:

Refund Testimonials:

Dear Joe,

Thanks for your emails and the prompt refund.

I ordered this information/remedy for my 82 year old father. After discussing it with him, he explained that he was afraid to use this remedy because his kidney stone was “too large to pass” according to his physician. They tried “blasting”, which did not work; now they are going to surgically remove the stone.

~ Debbie Eason

Joe,

Thank you very much. What a hassle free and timely refund and response, almost unheard of these days.

Thank you for actually following through on what your website says, very refreshing to see.

I will save your website link and consult occasionally.

~ Don Beckers

*Your results may vary based on your situation and circumstance. The testimonials above are a result of the individuals outcome following the guidelines outlined in the Kidney Stones Removal Report. If you are not happy with our report for any reason, you are entitled to our 60 Day, No-Questions-Asked, 100% Refund.

You don’t need to worry about losing your money if my remedy doesn’t work for you. I’m an honest person, and I truly want you to be happy. I have four young boys that I’m trying to raise properly, and I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I ran an unethical business. You can trust that I will honor your refund request.

So, if you do not get the results you were hoping for, simply ask for a refund (by sending an email to [email protected]) and I’ll be happy to issue it back to your credit card immediately.

I’m sure you’re wondering how this has worked for others.

Here’s How My Natural Remedy Has Worked For Some Of My Recent Customers:

My first response after using the remedy was that it did not work.

I was mistaken.

The pain I’ve been experiencing this time didn’t seem like a kidney stone. However, in the course of ruling out a stone I was told that there were two tiny stones in my left kidney. Pain just waiting to happen. They were noted on a CT.

I used the remedy and the following week I had an IVP which not only ruled out a moving stone, it also showed that those little buggers were gone!

I am a believer now! I’ve had many stones over the past 13 years and don’t even want to know how much I’ve spent on tests and pain medication not to mention lost days and misery.

Thank you!!!

– Barbara Rooker

…I was scheduled for a cystiscope the following day, so I figured I had nothing to lose, except the agony I know that follows the procedure.

I drank the remedy at 12:45 pm…I laid down and kept drinking water…It actually wasn’t until about 10:30 pm that it started to move (the stone was on the right side in the ureter, 5mm in size, the opening to the bladder is only 4 mm, thus the problem).

I had a few minutes of slight discomfort, but nothing like what I know it can be. Then the difficulty in urinating passed! I began getting a white mucus that was the stone “melting”. The pain and pressure was gone and about 2:30 am I called the hospital to cancel the procedure!!!

The next day, I continued to drink water and have had NO PAIN SINCE!

I feel great! Thank you!!

– Dawn Iaderosa, Clifton, New Jersey

It ends up that I had two kidney stones. I tried the remedy twice and I got rid of the smaller stone that was in my left kidney. However, the bigger one is in my right kidney and it is still there. The urologist said it was a 60% chance it would pass and a 40% they would have to do surgery.

Update: I went back to the Urologist today and he looked at my IVP results. There is no Kidney Stone!!! The stone I had must have dissolved. He was at a loss for words. Your remedy worked very well. It has saved me a lot of money and it has saved me from being off of work. I did the remedy twice and it seems to have done the trick. Thank you very much!!!

– Bart Richardson, New Jersey

Hi Joe, The other night I went to outpatient with pain that was unbearable. I had a CT scan and they found 1 stone, 4mm diameter located just above the bladder. The next day I followed your remedy, and, in a couple of hours, the stone passed! I haven’t had any further problems. Your remedy worked great!

– Robert Engelbrecht

Hi Joe: Well I have to say buying your remedy to remove kidney stones was probably the best investment I have ever made! 10 hours after following your steps, the stone passed through.

I went to see the doctor 2 days later and the X-ray in fact showed that my system was clear of any kidney stones. I just wish I knew about this remedy before, thanks for having it available!

– Luis Acevedo, Chattanooga, TN

I had been in significant pain since Monday requiring a visit to the emergency room and was still in enough pain to require medication on Wednesday morning. I did not know if I would be able to go on a long weekend trip that had been planned for weeks.

At 10:00 am on Wednesday I started drinking your remedy. The rest of the day was spent running to the bathroom and still required some pain medication for the trip out of town to catch a flight Thursday morning.

I arrived at the motel for the evening at about 11:00 pm and went to the restroom. There was a significant number of fiborous looking pieces in the “stream” and I realized the pain was gone. I did not require any more pain medication to sleep all night and I had a wonderful pain free weekend.

The stone I had the last time was a uric acid stone and it took 3 trips to the operating room and about $40,000 to get rid of.

I was amazed that this remedy worked and it passed in about 12 hours. Thanks!!!

– Brad Sarff

I followed the remedy exactly as written… Within an hour of finishing it, I stopped experiencing any pain. Although I was unable to find the kidney stone (a few times I did not use a screen) I have previously passed 2 other calcium oxalate stones, but never has one passed with so little pain.

I am amazed that it passed this easily!

Thanks for saving me so much pain and suffering!!!

– James M. Holt, Groves, Texas

…A CT scan revealed 2 more stones in my left kidney (the same side all my stones have formed on) and I was supposed to have litroscopy 2 days ago. I decided to research this procedure and its risks, and I inadvertantly came across your method on the internet and thought I had nothing to lose, so I gave it a try!

I passed both stones as a gravel sedament, and when I showed up at hospital for another x-ray before my scheduled procedure, they were gone! I was absolutely amazed! (not to mention my skeptical doctor!)

The method is absolutely pain free, and so simple to follow, it’s almost too good to be true! I am in awe of the fact that more people I know have not heard of this method, and I can’t wait to read your report on kidney stone prevention.

With three little ones I have no time or patience for another pesky stone!

Thank you so much!!!

– Candy Fertig

Hi Joe, The concept is so deceptively simple, yet so astonishingly powerful. I am impressed.

Your remedy has worked fantastically well for me! For the past 36 hours I have been free of pain. Looks like the calculus is completely gone!

– Kedar Nadkarni, India

I followed your instructions and after the second time of taking your remedy, my stone passed. This really worked for me! Thank you!!!!!

– Doug Powers, Baltimore, Maryland

*Your results may vary based on your situation and circumstance. The testimonials above are a result of the individuals outcome following the guidelines outlined in the Kidney Stones Removal Report. If you are not happy with our report for any reason, you are entitled to our 60 Day, No-Questions-Asked, 100% Refund.

As you can see, my remedy has worked great for others! And it can work great for you, too!

Imagine how good you will feel after passing your kidney stones painlessly with my remedy! Your testimonial belongs on this page, too!

I’m so confident that you’ll get rid of your kidney stones pain-free using my home remedy, I am offering you a full money-back guarantee:

The Kidney Stone Removal Report comes with a no-questions-asked, no-hassle, 60 DAY money-back guarantee.

If my remedy doesn’t work for you, all you need to do is send me an email within the next 60 days and I’ll promptly refund 100% of your purchase price, no questions asked!

That’s 60 FULL DAYS to put my remedy to the test – all the risk is on me. I don’t think I could be any more fair than that!

OK, let’s summarize all of the benefits you’ll receive when you buy your copy of the Kidney Stone Removal Report:

Fast, painless relief from your excruciating pain

No harmful side effects 100% natural!

Save thousands of dollars in medical bills and hospital stays

No Stress, No Surgery! Feel healthy fast and resume living!

No more sleepless nights agonizing in extreme pain

No need for potentially addictive drugs

It tastes good much better than drinking olive oil!

Safe for diabetics and pregnant women!

So, you’ve got 2 Choices…

1. Buy My Kidney Stone Removal Report Now – and get rid of your kidney stones painlessly, in less than 24 hours, using a safe, natural and proven home remedy. It tastes good, doesn’t have any side effects, is easy to use, and will probably save you thousands of dollars.

or

2. Continue to Suffer from Your Kidney Stones! – choose to do nothing. Continue to go through with the pain even though a much better solution is being made available to you right now, for immediate download.

You can get all of these benefits for only $19.97. That’s cheaper than a cup of coffee everyday for a month! That’s cheaper than going out to the movies once!

We kindly accept Visa, Mastercard, Discover and American Express

You would have to be insane not to try my remedy at this low price. You can hardly go out to dinner for less than $50 these days.

Options: The Kidney Stone Removal Report Do Nothing Surgery Price: $19.97 one time payment Free… for now $3,000 – $9,000+ Satisfaction Guarantee: 100% Money Back Guarantee for 60 days You probably won’t be satisfied… No money back guarantee Complications & Risks: Possible food allergies (very rare) Stone could remain lodged in kidney or ureter and cause serious problems down the road Pain, hospitalization, infection, complications due to anesthesia and medications, doctor error, death Convenience: Immediate download, put the information to use within the hour using grocery store products Not very – you’ll be in pain for a lot longer time than you need to be. Very inconvenient Effectiveness of Treatment: Highly effective. Smoothes razor-sharp edges of the stones and flushes them painlessly over 80% of the time. Non-treatment hopes it will pass on its own. Sometimes it works, but very painful option. 50-65% probability to remove the kidney stones Other Benefits: Educate & improve yourself for a lifetime of excellent health Save a few dollars, maybe People might visit you, eat hospital food, watch TV as you recover What’s Your Choice? Download Your Copy of the Report Give me drugs Cut me open

DOCTOR APPROVED

As a medical doctor with over 10 years of research in the field of nutritional and alternative medicine, I’ve seen a great deal of misinformation. As I’ve read through the reports are. There is no hype or pushing a specific type of therapy, just well-researched alternative treatments and some anecdotes. People are different so there are a variety of ways to heal illnesses. These reports take this into account, giving you many options and providing the information you need to heal yourself and be independent of drugs and “experts.”

BONUS: In addition to receiving your own copy of the Kidney Stone Removal Report, you will also receive the UTI Remedy Report (a $19.97 value) – absolutely FREE when you buy today.

The Kidney Stone Prevention Report will show you exactly what you need to do so you will never get kidney stones again, including:

Little-known dietary recommendations so you can know exactly which food you can and cannot eat.

The exact amount and type of water you will need to drink every day in order to stay free from kidney stones.

Which nutritional supplements you should be taking on a daily basis that are proven to prevent kidney stones from coming back.

And much more — and it’s yours free when you buy the Kidney Stone Removal Report!

This should be an easy choice. You have nothing to lose… except your pain from kidney stones!

What are you waiting for?

We kindly accept Visa, Mastercard, Discover and American Express

For Immediate Download: Click here to order online with your credit card.

Yours for excellent health,

Joe Barton Medical Researcher, Blogger, and Kidney Stone Consultant

P.S. When you buy the Kidney Stone Removal Report, you will receive easy, step-by-step instructions on how to eliminate your kidney stones within 24 hours without any pain. You can completely avoid thousands of dollars in medical bills by using my secret formula. The ingredients required will cost you less than $10 and every grocery store in the world carries these items. My remedy works for over 80% of kidney stone sufferers, and the remedy is not available anywhere else. And, if you don’t get the results you want, all you need to do is send me an email within 90 days and I will promptly issue you a complete refund, no questions asked.

So what are you waiting for?

We kindly accept Visa, Mastercard, Discover and American Express

Thank you for the opportunity to buy this…

“I ordered this information for my husband. He woke one morning with a kidney stone, doubled over in pain. We found this offer on the internet and ordered it. Within 3 hours from the time he woke up, he passed one. He passed 3 all totaled over 2 days. THANK YOU for the opportunity to buy this!!!”

~ Beth & Terry McDonald

Press play below to hear a message from Beth…

Click Here to buy my report, and get rid of your kidney stones today with no pain, naturally, with no side effects – 100% money back guaranteed!!