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kuekyuuq · 4 years ago

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I have to ask...

Where do the anti-supercorp people get the idea from that Lena Luthor is xenophobic?

Are we watching the same show?

I can see how one does not like Lena.

I can see how some of Lena's actions can be considered irredeemable.

I can see that her family was/is xenophobic.

I can agree she made some horrible mistakes in judgement.

Canon told us:

Lena was fired by Lex from LuthorCorp because he thought her naive about her pro-alien stance. The same brother who analysed Lena since she was four.

Lena was horrified when Lex tied her to a chair and made her watch his attempt to kill Superman by turning the sun red

Lena came to National City in hopes to work with Supergirl (an alien)

Lena actively re-branded LutherCorp to LCorp to get rid of the anti-alien stuff and everything else people connected with the Luthor name

Yes, Lena created an alien-detector, but her intention was one out of ignorance (of the backlash this could cause), not of hate - when Kara much later explains the potential bad the item could cause, Lena is very much listening

Lena helps Kara on several occasions, using her intel and providing it to Kara, so Kara can investigate and write articles to dismantle anti-alien organisations (e.g. Veronica Sinclair's fight club, Cadmus)

Lena helps Supergirl on several occasions, using her intel and providing it to Supergirl, so Supergirl can dismantle anti-alien organisations

Lena actively seeks to dismantle Cadmus - the anti-alien group - even before Lena started suspecting Lillian to be involved

Lena schemes against Lillian to use Medusa to kill all aliens on Earth

Lena testified both against her alien-hating mother and brother

As soon Lillian told Lena about Lex' former facilities, she starts looking into them - they are well hidden, so it does take her a while (and by this date in the show, she may still not have unearthed all of them) - and dismantles many of them / continues to give Kara/Supergirl information about them (e.g. when Kara asks Lena for tech to find missing aliens, Lena offers to look into L-Corp (= former LutherCorp) database to search for anything useful for that particular cause

Lena encourages Kara strongly to find a way to warn all aliens about the alien registration manifest being leaked - she inspired Kara to "blob"

When Lillian finds out Lena is pro-alien and helping find the abducted aliens, she has her goons try to scare her off ("nothing permanent" - the goons accidentally threw Lena off her balcony...) - even her own family sees how non-xenophobic Lena is

Lena sacrifices Jack (her former boyfriend and still potential romantically involved one) to save Supergirl (the alien) - and (rightfully) blames the human woman, who controlled Jack, for it

When Lena suspects and confirms Rhea to be an alien, she cuts ties with her - because Rhea lied to her, not because she's an alien

Lena starts working with Rhea (confirmed alien) again - to help aliens who "weren't as lucky" as Rhea's people and to further and better Earth technologies; reduce environmental damages by infrastructure / good transports / traffic.... only to be betrayed by Rhea.

Lena learns Mon-El, Kara's boyfriend, was Daxamite and has zero issues about it

Lena has no issue with Sam being half-alien, but with the Reign-half being a huge menace to Earth, so tries to stop her and save Sam

The DEO kept Kryptonite in case any of the Supers went rogue - like Batman and Oliver Queen kept theirs - Lena kept and created Kryptonite and Harun-El to ...cure cancer; to fight against sicknesses, to use as a clean energy-source, to... do good things

...yes, she lied about it. But, her not-so-wrong reasoning was "if I tell, they will take it away. If they take it away, I won't be able to do good with it."

Lena rather had Supergirl drop her than chemicals that could have harmed thousands (human and alien)

Lena becomes quick allies and friends with Brainy (admitably, in many ways he's more AI than alien...) and befriends Nia later on, too

What else does Lena do with her stash of Kryptonite and the knowledge she gained from it? When Mercy & Otis Graves irradiate Earth's atmosphere with Kryptonite, Lena already has created an anti-Kryptonite suit for Supergirl and the fact it’s already at hand saves Supergirl’s life!

That's only up to season four...

Yes, Lena did shitty stuff in season five. Arguably, for the right reasons, but ‘the road to hell is paved with good intentions’... But were any of those things xenophobic?

The problem she has with Kara in season five is NOT because she’s an alien - but because she felt betrayed, personally. Rightfully so? Eeeeeeeh.... while it surely must have hurt to learn your best friend lied to you and played two personalities, at times taking advantage of it, too - which, let’s be honest, Kara did - Kara did have her reasons (initially), it IS selfish for Lena to assume the worst and take the fact itself so personally. But, everybody lives in their own world, I am sure - dear few readers, who took it upon yourselves to read this monster of a post - we can agree, that we all judge the world and others based on our own perceived reality, based on our own experiences, emotions and circumstance, whether we try to be better than that or not... I’d even make the argument, Lena is more upset with her intimate friend “Kara” (whom she shared her most intimate thoughts and feelings with) having lied to her, than with “Supergirl” taking advantage of her. Being played, Lena can deal with, but trusting and seeing that trust shattered... low blow. Please, correct me if I’m wrong, but to my knowledge, the only time Lena uses Kara being an alien against her, is when she uses and reworks the Fortress of Solitude's already existing settings to trap Kara in there for long enough for herself to get a head-start on getting Myriad to work (how else was she supposed to achieve that?). Myriad, which she wanted to use to STOP hate, including racism (xeno-cism?). Brainwashing everyone is most certainly a veeeeeeery misguided approach, but the premise of ending all hate and the resulting pain is very much like the notion of "praying for world peace" - just that Lena got sick of praying and decided to actually go ahead and do something about it ((again: notion good; (attempted) execution horrifying)).

Even Lena trapping Malefic was to that very end. She trapped Eve (human) as well on that line of thought. At the least, she offered Malefic a deal to his liking as payment...? Eve on the other hand....

If anything, Lena is people-phobic. She has a hard time trusting anyone, remains suspicious to a fault. ...she did effectively kill Eve on Earth-38, though, by over-writing her with Hope.

Kara forgave her aunt, who came just as close, wanting to use Myriad for very similar purposes - and then forgave Lena, eventually, just as much. The difference being, Astra died. We never got to see if Astra would have actually stopped her plan, convinced Non, and/or would have aimed / worked hard to redeem herself...

In the same episode, where Lena's attempts with Myriad failed (and Hope took the fall) Malefic, who had tried to murder multiple people as part of his revenge against his brother (and had targeted Kelly for a while, too) was set free by J'onn and sent to Mars to do good there.

The whole of National City forgave Supergirl (and her potential for going bad and for her causing actual destruction) only a week after the redK incident...

All that said:

1) Lena lied to Kara and played her. Sure, Lena felt betrayed and from her point of view, with her set of experiences and her own preexisting many traumas and (very bad) coping mechanisms, it was... well, understandable... or at least traceable. But, forgivable? That's ultimately up for her victim (Kara) to decide. And, apparently, she does forgive her. Not easily. But she does; understands both sides, evaluates, listens to others, observes the remorse, and makes her own decision / judgement... which is (initially, tentative) forgiveness.

2) The show is REALLY BAD at dealing with characters' actions’ or events' consequences. Period. There is no real consistency, 'cept that things don't have real repercussions. That is how the writers decided to write the show from season one on. If the writers think Kara forgives Lena and show it, then that's that.

3) Every time I read the notion that Lena was/is xenophobic, I can't help but wonder if anyone who claims such even watched the show.

4) Lena is not her brother. She's flawed. She makes mistakes. But for once, Lena and her character are suffering the consequences. That may not enough for the liking of Lena Luthor haters, or anti-Supercorp taggers, but it is what it is - and it is much more than most any actual bad guy had to suffer through. Bad guys with evil intentions, (mass) murderers, people (alien and human) that rationally caused lasting harm and/or trauma to their victims.

5) Lena is not xenophobic.

Kue out.

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loveinterestcastiel · 4 years ago

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erosion

I wrote some endverse fic based on a @lateral-org post asking a FANTASTIC question:

When/why/how did endverse! cas get rid of the trenchcoat and what was dean's reaction?

Rated M. Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence. Word Count: 4.1k

tagged some mutuals and people I thought might be interested in this under the cut, if you want tagged in this/future fic or want me to remove your tag dm me!

erosion

Of course, Sam said yes in Detroit. So why dream about that? He lived it every day. The redundancy was irritating at best.

Where the fuck did I leave my boots last night? Cas cursed under his breath and embarked on a thorough search of their cabin, the coarse words warm and familiar on his tongue as he yanked on his socks. I really am starting to sound like Dean.

Dean’s boots were already gone, his gun and thigh holster absent too. He’d left his green jacket behind, tossed carelessly aside last night and hidden under the trenchcoat on the floor at the foot of their bed. He slipped his coat on over his clothes and shoved Dean’s jacket into their pack- he knew he’d want it later, even if it was just for the drive back. He slipped on the worn coat, habit- he’d stopped wasting Grace on its upkeep a while ago, but it was still important. It felt like comfort, in some strange way, so he kept on wearing it despite the worn-through elbows or the stubborn little bloodstained spot on the hem.

He’d dreamed of Detroit, last night, again. He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to dreaming, as unsettling and involuntary as it was. It felt like the unfair hijacking of an otherwise enjoyable human bodily function, and he resented it altogether. He snagged a bit of weed from his stash and tucked it in next to his flask, sweeping out the cabin door and into the frigid morning sunshine, giving Chuck a lazy wave as he ambled past his cabin to the truck lot, kicking little pebbles across the packed dirt at imaginary targets with a super-human precision that grated strangely on him today.

“Big run today,” Chuck said with a tentative smile, his hands clasping a chipped mug filled to the brim with his ridiculously indulgent tea, wafting a cascade of steam out over the railing of his cabin porch before dissipating into the air. “Don’t forget the perishables if you can get at them, ok? We’re seriously low on-”

“Toilet paper, milk, cheese, butter,” he interrupted, “plus sugar, flour, canned fruit, hygiene products, toothpaste, toilet paper, coffee, meat if we can get it, .35 and 9mm ammunition, mechanical oil, gasoline, propane, rubbing alcohol, gauze, surgical tape, toilet paper, paracetamol, and oh, toilet paper again!” Cas recited dryly, rolling his eyes. “You gave us a written list yesterday. Twice. Couldn’t fuck up blackout drunk.”

Chuck snorted, shaking his head in self-deprecation. “Just doing my job, Cas.”

“We’ll do ours,” he called over his shoulder, continuing down the central path briskly. “We’ve all got our part to play.”

What was it Lucifer had said to Dean, that night Zachariah stole him out from under Cas’s nose and threw him into the future? No matter what choices you make, whatever details you alter… we will always end up here.

It certainly seemed like he was right. Most days, it seemed like they were all hurtling towards the exact same place Dean had caught a wretched glimpse of, once, with the brakes slashed and emergency failsafes offline, and no indicator that the impossible choices they were making every day were anything but inevitable. He knew that Dean still had nightmares about his ending, but he didn’t know much else about Dean’s nightmares anymore but what little snippets he could garner from what Dean mumbled and cried out in his sleep. He’d lost the ability to dreamwalk a while back. Three nights after the Croatoan virus wiped out Fort Worth and they were forced to fall back, he tried to enter Dean’s sleep to watch his dreams in the dubious refuge of a closed down Motel 6 off of interstate 70 as they ran west, to see if there was some piece of information they’d missed, some new choice they could make one day that could change the path they were on.

It simply hadn’t worked. He mourned the loss of one more skill in the darkness of their room that night as Dean slept uneasily in the bed beside him, one more thing which, in its absence, made him ever more useless to Dean, much like the loss of his ability to time travel, or to smite their enemies with ease. Flight was becoming difficult by the day, and he knew in some part of his mind that his wings would be the next to go, and he would be grounded, permanently, on Earth and not in Heaven.

And so it goes.

Anyway, it wasn’t like they had much of a choice about anything these days. Once Michael had taken Adam, they lost their only trump card. Heaven didn’t need Dean anymore, but Hell desperately needed Sam. It was a shame, it really was, that Sam’s gamble hadn’t paid off.

It was a miracle Lucifer let Dean go. He had brushed him off as a non-threat. Unimportant on a cosmic scale, however important Dean was to the vessel. To Sam. So Dean walked out of that run down building alive, and he was the most beautiful, terrible thing Cas had ever seen. His soul shone brighter than even an archangel’s grace in his rage and trembled with the fierce sharpness of grief, and it was glorious, righteous.

Godly.

Even as Cas’s memories softened and blurred, becoming tinged with a mortal haze, that memory of Dean remained in a sparkling clarity. He could imagine no life, no moldable version of the past, in which he did not choose Dean. From the very first moment his soul had reached back to cling to Cas’s Grace in Hell, Cas had fallen, was falling, would fall, for Dean. It was inevitable, his love. They were inevitable. They fell together in the time after Detroit, into battle, into bed, and into cosmic obscurity. Soon, too soon, their losses began to outnumber their wins, and they had to make more and more certain regrettable sacrifices just to stay alive. Cas was used to collateral damage, far more than Dean was, but whatever the other humans in their ragged camp believed of him, he wasn’t unaffected. Just the opposite, in fact. He had never felt anything before, not for billions of years, an incomprehensible existence of light and intent and obedience and war, and now he felt everything. That- not Dean’s disappointment, or the slow loss of his Grace, or his Father’s unyielding silence- was undoubtedly the worst part of becoming something like human.

Some days were better than others, of course. Some days he took precious little blue or white or green pills, all different shapes and sizes and he felt good. Numb, pleased, far away. Quiet. Others, fewer than the days he had his pills, he took shrooms, LSD. Molly, twice. Often he took nothing at all, craving the wicked pain and emptiness it created in him as his sobriety enhanced the ache his dwindling Grace left behind, needing the punishment to feel real before forcing himself into a tumultuous sleep after days spent horribly awake with half a bottle of rotgut sloshing in his stomach. He still liked joints, rolled meticulously, their verdant smoke curling up deliciously in his lungs and setting him up on a lovely little metaphorical cloud the best, and then, they were even more so lovely when he shared them with Dean. There was nothing, nothing like passing it between them, before transitioning into trading hit after hit between their mouths, brushing against his soft lips, breathing his air, watching Dean’s cheeks flush a stunning pink and holding tight to his deep golden hair, dragging him down into slow, languid kisses that desire deepened and turned into a precious sort of holy consumption as the high hit its stride in them both.

He was sober today, mostly, just riding out the last of some gorgeous pink pill from a nearly full bottle he’d just scavenged out a few days before. It made him feel floaty, focused, fearless. He felt almost like he did two years ago, before his reeducation stint in Heaven. Angelic. It was nice. He’d take another, later. Maybe Dean would want to take one, too, and they could fuck high out under the stars on their quilt again like they did last October and feel like the real Gods of this stupid little planet, on top of the world, on top of Dean, cradled in the soft embrace of his thighs, and worship each other.

Take that, brothers. Castiel smiled viciously at the sky. You’ll never fuck God like I have.

Standing impatiently among their motley caravan of vehicles in the sickly yellow light of a midwestern April morning sun, his back to Cas, Dean’s silhouette and the flashing imprint of his soul- the only one Cas could still see clearly- caramelized into a sweet union of tangible and not that pulled at his stomach and swept him into the siren song of Dean’s being and woke up the hungry creature that lived in his heart and craved DeanDeanDeanDean.

No one else was there yet, probably all still dicking around at the camp mess and drinking shitty chicory. His feet fell silently on the earth, leaving behind the sound of the universe and the vibrant humming of Dean’s soul- and oh, he hoped he could always hear that symphony, even when all the rest of his powers had run dry.

Just as he reached out to take Dean by the shoulder and turn him around, Dean moved with a sudden burst of energy, like a coiled snake striking out. He whirled around and met Cas’s eyes, took him by the neck and the waist, and kissed him. His lips moved with a gentleness that contradicted the intensity of the grip of his cold-fingered hands as they worked their way into his hair, wormed their way under his trenchcoat, and touched the bare skin they found where the hem of his t-shirt met his jeans. He met the kiss eagerly, licking teasingly at the seam of his lips, biting down gently and coaxing Dean into opening his mouth. He pushed Dean back until his back hit the nearest rusted army-green truck with a small thudding noise, pressing himself up against Dean and tugging on his hips so they were pressed flush against each other, the contact sending and electric thrill racing up his spine.

“Cas,” Dean gasped out at the sensation of their bodies meeting, the air punched out of his lungs.

“Mmm, morning,” Cas murmured between kisses. “You’re out here early.” Dean’s neck was uncharacteristically bare above the neck of his rough brown sweater, creamy and invitingly unmarked. Cas indulged in the impulse to change that, working his way over the tender skin, sucking and biting until a bruise began to bloom below the junction of Dean’s jaw and neck, worrying it with his teeth until it was a deep reddish-purple.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Dean whispered, letting his head fall back against the truck window, baring his throat further, and closed his eyes. He seemed almost happy, today. He seemed to light up in the lead-up to their more dangerous missions, and Cas didn’t want to think about that right now. Didn’t want to ruin the moment. “Didn’t want to wake you up,” Dean elaborated.

“I appreciate that.” Satisfied with the rather outrageous hickey he’d created on Dean’s neck, Cas pressed it with one last kiss. “How’d you know I was behind you?” he asked, pressing their foreheads together and slowly grinding their hips together lazily, just breathing Dean in.

“Felt you,” Dean said, bringing their lips together again briefly. “Always can.” One more little kiss.

“Dean, last night, when you couldn’t sleep, I dreamed again about Detroit-” Cas started to confess feverishly, almost against his will, Dean stiffening up at his words in his arms, and was interrupted by the sound of people approaching, footsteps, voices, and an earsplitting wolf-whistle directed at their compromising position.

Dean’s face shuttered immediately, and Cas felt every scrap of easy bliss flee his body.

He pulled back with more than a little reluctance, his stomach twisting as a fakely jovial grin tugged at the corners of his lips, and clapped Dean on the shoulder. “Let’s go, fearless leader. We’ve got a mission to run, don’t you know?”

“Don’t start with that fearless leader shit,” Dean said tightly, rolling his eyes away from Castiel’s face and fixing on a point somewhere over Cas’s shoulder. “Who’s driving?”

“Looks like Cas is driving,” Joe called out mischievously.

Risa smacked him in the chest. “Get in the truck, idiot.” She turned her gaze to Dean, an odd glint in her eye. It felt sticky and wrong in his core but Cas stamped the feeling down. “Group brief over the radio on the way?” she asked.

“Yeah, at 8,” Dean said, sliding into his unshakeable militaristic persona with a firm nod. “Should be fairly straightforward in and out supply grab. Intel says the Croats cleared out of Roanoke a couple days ago, left major infrastructure and commerce sites relatively untouched. It’s a good thing too,” he added, “we were getting spread a little thin with most goods.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

———————————————————————

It was not, in fact, easy.

Their intel was wrong, so wrong, and Cas didn’t know how the fuck it happened, but they were fine, they were almost finished, closing up the trucks in the alley behind the supermarket and waiting for Dean and Trish to return from sweeping the perimeter, when out of what seemed like thin air and with no more than a broken shout for warning there were more Croats swarming them than he’d ever seen in one place before, and Joe and Maya and Kris were dead, and Dean was nowhere to be found.

The Croats had the remaining seven pinned down against the main truck, snarling and screeching and reeking of blood and gore, strips of flesh and clothing that once adorned their companions now dangling from their teeth. Their single-minded need for the endless consumption of human flesh and that it was currently being denied drove them to a terrifying frenzy, but the hunters were starting to push back, and the Croat numbers were thinning slowly but surely. Cas thought he saw Allen get bitten, but next he glanced at him he looked fine. He’d need to check on that if they made it out alive. He resigned himself quickly to the idea of killing the man before they got back to Chitaqua- Allen was a nice enough man, quick-witted and skilled with a blade and a loom, but nothing was worth bringing a Croat back to camp. He owed it to the man as a human being to grant him a swift death if he’d been infected before Allen himself could realize it. A shot to the back of the head, unawares, had to be better than a clumsy battle and inevitable stab to the chest (Cas knew he would always have the upper hand against a human, even when he had fallen in full) with fear in his heart.

He buried his angel blade to hilt in yet another Croat’s throat, yanking it out and ducking out of the way of the spray of blood that followed in a well-practiced motion uncanny in its speed. They would win this one.

But still no Dean.

Cas felt a bubbly panic rise up in his chest through the haze of battle as it became clear to him that Dean wasn’t coming back. Even from the other side of the building or from inside, there was no way that Dean had not heard the commotion of such a large fight.

Something was stopping Dean from coming back to him.

“Risa,” he shouted over the din to the woman on his left. “Dean and Trish-”

“I know,” she interjected tersely, hacking the head off of a skeletally thin Croat in a tattered suit. “Retrieval? We’ve got this handled here as long as this all the fucking bastards around.”

“I’m going in,” Cas said quickly, slicing at a particularly bold (stupid) Croat trying to charge him. It crumpled to the ground and twitched once, and was still. Some of its companions fell on the body ravenously, and were subsequently cut down in turn as they began to tear at the corpse. “Leave as soon as you’re able; I’ve got the keys to the main truck. Cover your right,” he warned Risa, and, sensing an opportunity in the parting sea of Croats before him, ran.

He was through the service doors of the building before the Croat hoard could even begin to respond to his escape, and their noises were quickly muffled by the service door as it locked automatically behind him, leaving him in relative quiet.

There were a surprising number of crates and boxes remaining in the storage and unloading zones, either empty or nearly so, and he quickly ascertained the area was, apart from himself, devoid of life or anything of interest to the camp.

Cas.

Dean's sudden prayer hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut.

Aisle... his mental voice trailed off for a second into indistinct sounds, colors, and waves of pain. Aisle seven. It's bad.

Cas shoved through the access door into the freezers, and out into the store with a recklessness he would have been ashamed of had he been so terrified.

He turned down aisle seven and skidded to a halt, frozen at the sight that greeted him, and tried to make sense of the hideously macabre tableau.

Trish's decapitated body lay the furthest from him, her ribcage torn open, her organs spilling over her arms and scattered in pieces over the floor. Three dead Croats, all headshots, around her remains. Then a bloody lake on the cheap linoleum tile, thick and viscous and so, so red, two more dead Croats, clearly more hard-won victories, their arms hacked at, heads partially removed, and nearly blocking the last body from view, wedged up against the shelves and bloody as it was.

"Cas," Dean wheezed, lifting his head laboriously to meet his eyes, blood bubbling up between his lips and staining them. "Cas, I'm so sorry-"

"No, no, don't talk like that," Cas said desperately, kneeling beside Dean. He took their pack of his back with shaking hands and shoved his angel blade somewhere inside. "We can fix this. You'll be okay."

"Cas-"

"You will!" he said, too loudly and startling himself.

"My ribs," Dean panted out in pained little gasps. "Broken. There's something in my back." He twitched minutely as if to show Cas the problem and immediately convulsed involuntarily at the pain the movement caused him, a horrible rattling moan in his throat. "My leg. Right one. Broken too." His jaw was clenched so tightly it was a miracle he could speak at all through the teeth-grinding pain he was in.

"Okay," Cas said faintly.

Cas...

Oh, he hated feeling. Sometimes he thought it made him useless. He missed being cold. Brutal, uncaring about pain or death. But this was Dean, and he'd never actually been particularly good at being a machine, anyway. "Okay. Dean, I need to see your back," he warned him, before moving him as gently as he could and angling his body so that he could get an unobstructed view of his back.

There was a crude metal stake wedged just an inch to the left of his second and third thoracic vertebrae, rusted, twisted and cruel-looking.

"Dean, I- I have to try to heal you," he said slowly, knowing that Dean wouldn't want him to be wasteful with his Grace. But this was beyond what human field medicine could help.

Dean didn't respond. He'd fallen unconscious.

"Oh no, no, no, baby," he babbled under his breath, trying to figure out the best way to extract the bar of metal. "Hold on," he muttered, grasping the stake firmly and bracing Dean's body against his own, trying to avoid fucking his broken ribs up more.

"Father, please, if you're still here, if you're listening, if you care at all," he begged, "help me."

Of course, his Father didn't answer. Gritting his teeth, Cas yanked out the stake and tossed it aside, immediately covering the wound with his hand. He summoned his Grace together and it responded sluggishly, but his hand was glowing and Dean's back was knitting back together.

As the skin merged into a puckered, raw-looking pink scar, Cas dropped his hand away from the wound and found himself utterly breathless, gasping for air and drained.

Dean was still unconscious.

He leaned Dean back up against the shelving and took a moment to figure out what to do next. Dean was still dying. He was still in danger. He couldn't be moved, nor could they stay put. He quickly opened up their pack and realized in horror that all the medical supplies were with Risa and AJ on the trucks and so, so far away by now.

He yanked his coat off with a twinge of regret. It was bloodied and worn and what he was about to do with it felt like a milestone he was loathe to reach.

He shredded it into long, wide strips, not letting himself think of how it was the last piece of Jimmy Novak, or how he had repaid the man's sacrifice by being party to the end of the world they both wanted to protect, or how Claire Novak had stopped praying to him weeks ago, now. He got on with the job, this is just a job, I can fix this-

He managed to wrap Dean's leg up decently tight, straight and stiff, but he had quickly discovered it was broken in several places. He didn't know what he could do for Dean's ribs, and he felt, as if from a distance, how Dean's breath was coming shallower and shallower, and he made his choice.

He laid his left hand on Dean's broken leg, as gently as he could. Leaning forward, he smoothed the wispy little baby hairs he loved to tease Dean about back, off his sweaty, pained, precious face, and, placing his right hand on Dean's crushed ribs, near his heart, touched their foreheads together. He looked at Dean's soul, his shining, beautiful (fading) soul and knew.

"I love you," Cas whispered, his voice wrecked. With that finally said, he grabbed his exhausted, weary Grace, and though it fought him and slipped through his grasp, he got hold of it and he pushed everything he could, everything he was into his hands, into Dean.

When he had done it, when he had drained himself down to mists and vapors, and had saved Dean, he gathered him in his arms, and carried him back to the truck on numb feet, leaving the scraps of Jimmy's coat behind in aisle seven.

When the truck broke down thirty miles from Chitaqua, and their radio too, he turned to Dean, pulling on a blue-ish jacket they'd picked up earlier during the run. It fit well.

"It's a good look for you," Dean said gruffly, staring at Cas with an expression he could not recognize. There was blood still smeared on his cheekbone, he noted absently.

"Oh. Yes. Well, thank you," Cas answered, adjusting the sleeves.

Dean tugged at the tan fabric strips on his leg, wincing at the pressure.

"You did a good job, Cas. With this fabric splint from your coat-"

"I know you won't be able to walk it," Cas said quietly, unable to meet his eyes even as he interrupted him. "I did what I could, but you'll be weak for days. You need time."

"You can leave me, Cas," Dean said, a strange, pinched guilt-pain-tenderness on his face. "You can come back for me."

"No," Cas said, smiling, and choking, and took Dean's cheek in the palm of his hand with a terrible ache rising in his throat. "I can't."

April 19th, 2012, under the peak of the Lyrids meteor showers, Cas flew for the last time, right up to the gates of the camp.

When they landed, a millisecond and millennia later, his wings burned away into nothingness in a wave of electric, minty-white pain that forced him to the ground. In the aftermath, panting and sweating and shaking in Dean's arms and clutching at his handprint on Dean's shoulder, he realized his Grace, or what was left of it, anyway, had consolidated into a bright little ball in his chest. Like a soul.

The realization was followed by another. Despite his earlier conviction that it would one day be lost to him, he could still see Dean's soul- behind his teeth, in his chest, radiant like a halo around his head, and worth, a million times over, and a million again, falling for.

Tagged:

@heller-jensen @sunforgrace @rambleoncas @adhdeancas @evermorecastiel @holmesemrys @plantdadcas @good-things-do-happen-dean @jeanne-de-valois @autisticandroids @sonder-stars @yana125 @faithcastiel @cascreamtiel @seffersonjtarship @i-sing-for-me @purgatorybi @bibelphegor @cowboyslikedean @gracefuldean @dimples-of-discontent @judaskissdean @wafflehousegothic @icaruscastiel @67chevyimpala67 @lesbianjenderenvy

#destiel #destiel fic #endverse!destiel #endverse!cas #not immune to endverse cas i repeat not immune vaccine needed now #my fic #my writing #dean winchester #castiel

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lonelypond · 5 years ago

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Soldier Game: Operation LA Smile, Ch. 2

NicoMaki, Love Live, 1.7K, 2/?

Summary: Maki flees the scene, Eli meets Nozomi, Umi amuses herself, Hanayo makes an appearance, and Nico decides on a distraction.

Chapter Two: Party Planning

Maki, not yet awake enough to open her eyes, pushed into something warm, firm, feeling herself relax, and then the images started playing behind her eyes, Yazawa so close, hands everywhere, asking, then taking over, then...Maki froze. If she opened her eyes now, what kind of look would be on Nico’s face. Best just to pretend to be asleep.

Pretend or not, the next time Maki was aware of anything, she felt colder. A quick sneak peek. No Nico. Wrapping the towel around her, Maki sprinted for the door, almost tripping over the weight she now had to shove aside. The hall, which way to the Soldier Game temporary office? To the left, Maki turned, and there was Umi, smirking, calmly waiting to see what Maki would do next.

Maki pulled the towel completely closed around her, hurrying past this obstacle. “I just need my go bag.”

“Rough workout?” Umi’s teasing voice always grated, “Need a shower?”

“Bite me.”

“Is there a line?”

Maki whirled, snarling, “I am so breaking you next time we spar.”

Umi shrugged, “That will never happen.”

“Oh it will. You can bet on it.”

“But I won’t.”

Maki didn’t have the mental energy for Umi in taunting mode. Most of her attention was listening for Nico’s voice so she could sprint away before Nico stepped into the hall.

“See you at dinner. Bring a friend.” Umi smiled.

“I’ll be in my hotel. Alone.” That was the rest of her evening. Every scented candle in Tokyo lit, lights low, music calming, soaking off this surprise encounter, forgetting what Nico smelled like when sweat and sex steamed off of her, long, lush, black hair slick, Maki’s legs were starting to wobble and if she didn’t get away soon...not thinking about that, Maki straightened herself up...ha! Inner Maki snorted, good luck with that...and rushed toward more clothes than this barely clinging bikini bottom.

###

Ayase Eli was sharp, trim, on task and on time. Her suit was pressed, her hair in a high ponytail, her agenda to the point after a series of revisions. She didn’t need directions to the office assigned for her official meeting with Tojo-san. Eli was here to be the public face of Soldier Game, bringing together her friends to use their celebrity cachet to boost Japanese tourism, which had taken a huge hit due to the coronavirus pandemic and panic. Even with the advances in treatment and prophylactic treatments, with no vaccine, air traffic to Asia from the United States and Europe had suffered huge declines. And then there was the more important Soldier Game mission, ensure delivery to an underground biohacker network of biological data camouflaged by the designers of Feather Smile. The mission would start with a two week quarantine and reconnaissance in the hills of Malibu while their Hollywood contact Kousaka Honoka finalized photoshoot and filming details.

This was the office. Eli knocked politely and heard a trilled, breathy “Come in.” She opened the door and behind the desk, leaning forward, elbows on the desk, chin cupped in her hands, green eyes confident and friendly was a tall buxom woman in a floral dress and dark blazer combo.

“Tojo-san? I’m Ayase Eli.”

“Call me Nozomi.” There was a giggle, “I recognize you from the snaps in your file.”

“Of course.” Eli bowed her head.

“Please take a seat, Ayase-san. Umi has been sharing details of your procedures and requirements so some of the groundwork has been done.”

Eli nodded, “Before we get into that, may I ask who you work for?”

Nozomi chuckled, “You can certainly ask, although I can’t share all the details with you. It’s a governmental subdivision focused on international relations.”

“And you requested Soldier Game because…”

Nozomi leaned back, eyes narrowing, voice crisper, “I intend to take advantage of the male tendency to dismiss attractive women as anything but prey. My contact needs this information and my usual couriers would be at risk. We need a diversion.” A pause and a bright smile, “How’re your tan lines?”

“Huh?” Eli saw why Umi had noted that conversations with Tojo-san could quickly become unpredictable.

“FeatherSmile has decided on a beach and boxing theme.”

“And FeatherSmile is involved because…?” Eli hadn’t really paid that much attention to the dossier on the designers.

“They have the skills and technology I need for this mission. Surely you’re not planning to underestimate them, Ayase-san?” Nozomi arched an eyebrow to judgy.

Eli blushed slightly, “No, this is just very high profile. I’m wary of the risk to our covers. I want to be certain everyone involved is a professional.”

Nozomi stared at Eli for an uncomfortable length of time and then giggled, “Just smile and look pretty and make sure nobody shoots the talent. We’ll take care of the rest.”

###

Kotori was humming as she worked on a dress. Nico shut the door to their atelier and threw herself on the divan.

“I think we should design and cut the whole collection during the two week quarantine.” Nico announced.

Kotori took her foot off the foot control pedal of her sewing machine and spun her stool around.

“It gives us more time to prep the fabric and make some contingency plans.” Nico seemed fascinated by the floor, her voice disinterested.

“Did something happen?” This Nico mood was rare and difficult to read so Kotori was very very curious.

“Things always happen, but Nico has it under control.” Nico waved her hands before flipping on her back, staring at the ceiling, “But a behind the scenes video would be a big FeatherSmile boost, especially with eye candy like that around.”

“Eye candy?” Kotori raised an eyebrow, “That sounds a bit…” Kotori paused, “predatory for you, Nico. Are we over the sexual harassment policy now? No more lectures?”

“Hey if,” Nico squeaked, winced and tried again. “Hey, if they want to wander around saying, “woo hoo, look at me, I am surface-of-the-sun hot”, Nico is going to take them at their consenting adult status.”

��Who is them, Nico?” Kotori asked quietly as she went back to the dress. Nico had to be edged into truths, not stared into them.

Silence, the chug of Kotori’s needle for minutes, then Nico threw herself back upright and pulled out her phone. “We have the bon voyage party tonight, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Want to sign some bras?” Nico smirked.

Now Kotori was insatiably curious. “We haven’t had an event like that…” since the launch of their underwear lines last Christmas ago. Which had nearly been a riot. A very profitable, very pretty riot that had Kotori spending the night partying with several fans in the FeatherSmile reserved suite. Nico had been chatting up investors at the bar. And their Spring Line had been fully funded, sight unseen. And was now sold out.

“Might as well give Tokyo something to remember.” Nico raised her phone, adjusted her hair, flashed her lady killer glitter smile, and hit one touch record, then raising her hand in The Gesture™ “Nico Nico Ni! How are all Nico’s pretty ladies? If you’re not busy tonight and your C19-Pass is clear, FeatherSmile is throwing a “See You At The Beach” Party tonight at the Andaz Tokyo Rooftop Bar, with some fab celebrity guests!!! Catch us if you can, before we head for LA and design our latest beach and activewear collection. And we’ll be doing bra signings, so wear your FeatherSmile originals and get a Nico selfie and signature. Nico wants to see ALL her fans.” Even for Nico, the wink was outrageous. So she tossed the phone on the table with a low mutter Kotori barely caught. “And now Nico will be too busy for whatever Nishikino wants to do next.”

Ah. Nishikino. Nishikino Maki. The glaring redhead. Kotori wasn’t surprised, well, a little by the speed. But it seemed this was going to be a mission on hyperfuel.

###

Working from her porch, Hanayo had her laptop out, smiling as she paused to watch the alpacas and llamas wandering her ranch. They’d been sheared recently so many looked bare, but now Hanayo would have a usable amount of textiles for the FeatherSmile team as Ms. Tojo requested. So exciting to be involved with celebrities, Hanayo thought as she liked Sonoda Umi’s latest TWIG video, a warm up routine. And a photoshoot, with all of Soldier Game posing, beachwear Ms. Tojo had said, and….Hanayo reached for her hand fan and held her iced tea to her forehead. It did get a little hot out here. Hanayo had been following FeatherSmile since their debut so it was amazing to have the opportunity to actually get to meet Nico and Kotori. Hanayo’s eyes gleamed behind her glasses. She wasn’t going to think about the part of this that scared her, maybe finally getting on the radar of the pharmacops, instead she was going to stay focused on the excitement.

###

“They’re throwing a party?!?!?!?!” Maki was in the repurposed office that Umi had taken over for Soldier Game, going through their medical equipment stash. Tojo’s US contact would have most of what else they needed but Maki refused to travel without personally assembling her own kit.

“Yazawa wants a big bang.” Eli turned away from her screen.

Maki frowned, reading the FeatherSmile TWIG announcement on her phone, “Sign your bras?!?”

Eli shrugged, “It’s a thing they do. Their underwear line was an extremely romantic Christmas gift last year.”

“And comfy.” Umi didn’t pause in her kata.

Maki nearly dropped the surgical instruments she was holding, “You’re wearing some?”

“No, but I do own a few pieces. They are both frilly and practical.”

“And romantic?” Eli looked up from her paperwork with a teasing wink.

“That was not a consideration. I found the lace trim color contrast aesthetically pleasing and the support appropriate for everyday activities.” Umi finished her form and bowed. “If you do not wish to attend this evening’s festivities, Maki, I’m sure a tantrum would be an effective addition to the publicity brew.

Eli returned her attention to her paperwork, “And very in character.”

“I thought we were leaving tomorrow?” Maki ignored her colleagues’ suggestion.

“Flight got pushed back a day. Tojo’s having some red tape problems. I am assisting her.” Eli started entering numbers into her desktop, “And some of our more sensitive equipment will go through the diplomatic pipeline, which is a huge plus.”

Maki went back to sorting medicinal necessities, occasionally muttering sentences ending with, “bra.”

A/N: The world needs more fun stuff so I decided to post this and just kick off the next chapter with a huge party. Also, Happy Birthday, Nozomi!

Take care, especially if you're out there doing the good work of protesting police brutality against Black lives.

#NicoMaki #NozoEli #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #Tojo Nozomi #Ayase Eli #Sonoda Umi #Minami Kotori #fashion #LA Smile #Soldier Game

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valasania-the-pale · 5 years ago

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A Healer’s Dilemma Chapter 3

Author: Valasania the Pale

Rating: K

Words: 1289~

Pairing: Mipha/Zelda/Link

Notes: Originally, this was only supposed to be three chapters long. Then this chapter happened, and extended everything a bit. Please enjoy!

That night, Mipha dreamed.

Senses she seldom relied upon – smell, taste, touch – became spheres through which she strode on four legs.

Perhaps, were she to take the time to sit and feel, she might have come to know some part of what she knew now. She’d certainly spent her fair share of time in deep meditation, honing her perceptions, the better to tighten her connection to the world and the flow of magic. But…

The forest she trod was alive in a way she could never have comprehended while limited to her body of scale and flesh, dominated by sight and sound.

Not that sight and sound had no place in this new body, she had just never felt so… more.

Her nose twitched on her smoky muzzle, showing her the pathways taken by a multitude of quarries, so clear their trail could have been a bright line through the undergrowth.

Squirrels chattered to each other above her, insolent voices ignorant of the apex predator that stalked their woods. On the air she could scent their stashes, hidden beneath the earth, within the hollows of the trees. Were they to notice her, Mipha doubted she would receive naught but a litany of taunts… from the safety of the boughs.

Her ears twitched, catching the breeze.

Birdsong. Wind’s whisper. Wood’s gentle creak, labored groan. Rustling leaves, falling seed.

She breathed deep.

The scent of mulch filled the air, new with the decay and growth of spring. Game, big and small, their paths intercrossing, diverging; the sounds of their passing evident in the rustle of leaves, branches, and bark. Prey, hunter. Territories vast, intersecting, some irrelevant, some intriguing, tantalizing the beast in her soul.

These things did Mipha sense.

They were a curtain of sensation. Calming. Serene. Wild, yet one with her spirit, as the rapids too were part of the flowing river.

Her eyes shut, and her mind drifted upon these waves.

Mipha wished Zelda could feel this.

That castle was her prison. That crown was a chain stronger than iron… Her bloodline – her damned sense of duty – entombed her within a life she didn’t want…

Mipha wished…

But she should not wish. It was not her place.

Yet…

Mipha wished – in her secret heart where none could see but herself and whatever gods might exist out there – that she could gift her queen the serenity she felt out here in nature…

She wished she could teach her queen feel, if only for a day, the freedom she felt with naught but the wind on her fur and the ambiance of the wild the only song threading through her mind.

She wished…

…

Three years was a long time. Longer still, to spend in the body of a beast, where before she had walked clad in the flesh of a man.

Long enough, even, for her to forget what it was to walk astride two legs and to speak. Language to her, now, was a tilt of the head or a crinkling of the brow. A whine to cajole, a rumble to comfort.

A snarl, with just that perfect, vicious edge, to threaten.

She had never been good with words. Abandoning them was no great sacrifice. She did not miss them. What use had she for words now, when bared teeth and flashing eyes could turn away the noisome press of petitioners and nobles so easily?

There were so many of them…

Three years was a lot of time to learn. Of them. Of life. Of politics. Of her.

Three years, she had stood by her Queen’s side as her guardian.

Three years…

Nameless, her legend had swept through the castle, and the kingdom beyond. Further and wider than the stories of the man ever had. Those were whispers now – fond recollections of a phantom who’d vanished into the twilight.

The stories now were closer, more tangible than those of a strange, righteous adventurer.

A beast made docile by her Grace’s benevolence.

A savage wolf tamed by her touch.

A spirit of the wild summoned to guard the Queen after the great Incursion which plunged their kingdom into twilight.

Perhaps, even, a prize wrested from the invaders, brought to heel as reparations.

These things were said, spoken in hushed whispers on the lips of peasant and noble alike as the weeks passed into months, and months became years.

Rumors. More empty words, for which she had no need. Their only virtue was in spreading her reputation far and wide, the better to humble her Queen’s foes great and small when they came to prostrate themselves before her.

In that time, the edifice that was her queen’s home – their home, now – rose slowly from the rubble it had been reduced to.

People came to them, and the shattered throne was recreated.

The ramparts were renewed, and men came to patrol them.

The countryside was scoured of enemies, and slowly the plow was taken to the earth once again, and the natural order re-established itself.

Time could pass quickly. Three years could become a blink of the eye.

It was three years ago to the day that Mipha and Zelda last saw her – since the mirror that divided their worlds was shattered, and they were left alone to pick up the pieces and wonder, and wish.

Their Twilight Princess…

Three years and a blink of the eye, and the castle that was ruined was made whole. The country laid low now stood tall. The faces of its people were now proud again, and contented.

All of it set aright, as they’d promised.

All… was a powerful word. It was so easy to lie, using it.

Mipha wished, futilely.

Midna…

The pain was an arrow between her ribcage. It was a barbed, metal head vanishing inside her. A cold seeping away from the wound, stretching, stretching, becoming a yawning void. A chasm. A rift.

The divide between them – them, they three, they three bound by destiny through some farce of fate, they three souls marked by the gods – that divide was—

It was—

Mipha snarled, eyes held shut against the cacophony. It hurt.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way!

She wasn’t supposed to leave!

I should have said something! I should have stopped her!

The whine, long, and drawn from her throat like razorwire, became a howl before Mipha registered what she was doing. There was no hesitation, no more thought.

Hurt.

Loss.

Longing.

Midna.

Zelda.

They three, together.

These things were not words, not just. Words would only diminish their keenness, could not suffice to capture that which he felt in that moment.

Silence and stillness befell the woods.

Squirrels ceased to chitter, their scuffling upon the boughs ceased for a moment as the long, resonant notes from deep within his chest filled the air, echoing through the trees. Mipha imagined through a haze that they might travel up into the sky, past the boundaries of the world itself.

That—

Mipha wished—

That perhaps Midna might hear her.

She howled until her throat ached and the tension in her chest began to ease – until she felt content that her song was complete.

I l—

I—

Mipha stopped. Lowered her head. Listened to the silent forest slowly came alive again.

To the steady beat of her heart.

To the chitter of squirrels, and their angry accusations.

To the footsteps, the faint rustle of woolen cloth, and the creak of sinew and lacquered wood.

Her eyes sprung wide, and she was on her feet before her heart could beat again, just in time to meet the steel arrowhead with her spine.

Mipha dropped with a pained yelp, and lay still.

“I got him! Master! Master, come look!”

She could not move.

Far away – or close – Mipha could hear the youth as he celebrated and his master slowly – silently, with the practiced stride of a master woodsman – approaching from downwind.

She could not move.

There was no pain.

“Master, come look at this! You said I’d never make a shot like that!”

“Give me a moment, give me a moment, if the shot was clean it’s not like your prize’ll be going anywhere anyways.”

Mipha thought the voice was pleasant. Deep. Calming. A teacher proud of their student.

The master’s gait was true – that he’d fallen behind the student was no accident.

A test. One that had been passed, most like.

Mipha could not see the boy. Her mind supplied the image. Blond hair, blue, rounded eyes. An energy – a will – to learn. Such a student would need such a teacher willing to give them the space to learn.

“It was clean, master. Right through the spine! Dropped like a sack of stones.”

“The spine?” the voice took on a disapproving tint, but was not harsh. “Goddesses boy, what are you standing around for!”

Two sets of footsteps approached Mipha where she lay.

“Wow, he’s big…”

“Aye… Not seen a bigg’un like this near the city since…”

A large hand, calloused by a lifetime handling a bow, hovered over her. Her eyes could not see him, so her mind supplied the image.

Blonde hair. Round, compassionate blue eyes under a dark brow. A square jaw, and a large, angular nose.

A fitting teacher.

Everything was greying at the edges.

“…”

“Master?”

“Ravi…” The specter of shock lingered in the master’s voice. His dread bled off of him. Mipha resented that.

Zelda was understanding.

Greying…

Zelda…

“Is something wrong?”

An inhalation. Steadying. Fortifying.

“I… know this one. The markings, here. He’s the Queen’s – her wolf. I didn’t think – I didn’t know he’d be out here today. I didn’t know he left the castle at all!”

“Oh… oh… oh goddesses, oh no…”

Her heart. Her heart was beating against a numb chest. It was a world away.

Her eyes were closed. They were closed. They would not open. It was so dark, darkening.

The panicked breathing – the reassurances of the master to his apprentice; he would stand for him, the queen was merciful, he wasn’t going to the hangman’s noose for an accident – it was so far away.

So far away.

Far.

She was sundered from them. From the voices. From the sounds of the forest. From her very heartbeat.

Sundered.

…Oh golden goddesses, what am I doin’…? Poor thing…

A hand on her head, rubbing gently.

…Be over soon boy…

Zelda. Midna.

No.

She whined.

no no no no no

The blade paused, poised above him.

No no no no no nonononononononoNO

The hand was on her head again.

…sorry, boy…

In the moment before the blade cleanly severed her from life, Mipha found her words again.

NO wait please I have to tell her at least her oh goddesses I did what you wanted why why WHY Midna Zelda I love—

X_0_X

Mipha jolted, was plunged back into darkness with an image of the softly glowing Master Sword burned into her retinas.

X_0_X

Mipha dreamed, this time floating high above a sea of heads.

No senses greeted her, no sound, no scent, no taste, no touch. Those were for the living, for mortal bodies. That world.

She could only watch and suffer on in silence from across the rift between worlds, as her Queen held court.

The smallfolk approached her, as drab and dull in their garb as she was resplendent and regal.

On a simple throne beneath the re-sculpted sigil of the goddess’ grace – the divine benison by which her bloodline derived its right to rule – Zelda listened to the words of her people great and small.

In her world of silence, Mipha could not hear those words, but she knew the lay of this particular field. Boons, requests, and from the most insolent, demands veiled and overt. Some few paid tribute. Others simply paid respect to the reigning queen.

It was a more tolerable thing, experiencing this without their voices grating on her ears, but in that moment Mipha wished—

She howled, but her voice could not reach between worlds.

The sun was beginning its descent beneath the hills by the time the throng began to clear. It was at that time that the huntsman and his apprentice delivered her body to the queen.

In life, she was too large for them to carry unaided, so they’d gathered her up on a litter. The arrowshaft had been removed, but the trickle of dried blood upon her fur remained.

The silence preceded her, and them. Expressions turning curious, then briefly colored with shock, horror, fear – and in some; anger, outrage.

There was little sadness. What emotions there were, were for the queen, and her loss. Mipha had not been loved. A beast was not loved.

This did not move her.

Indeed, it did not move the Queen, either. Not that.

Mipha’s body was lowered to the tiled floor. Master and apprentice knelt in obeisance to their queen and their lips moved silently, telling their story. They were held in true silence – the silence of a judging monarch – and released. They fled, figurative tails between their legs, horribly guilty but relieved beyond measure that their mistake would not be their end.

Mere minutes.

Those minutes were longer than the countless hours Mipha’d spent in court combined.

Zelda never looked at them. Never looked away from Mipha’s body. Her face was stone.

Mipha howled, futilely.

The queen rose and dismissed her court with a wave of her hand. Her guards followed. The great wooden doors defending the sanctuary were pulled shut. Life abandoned the throne room, until all that remained was Zelda, her face shadowed by the rays of fading twilight cast through the windows.

She was stone.

She was steel.

A fool would call her fragile.

A fool would compare her expression to glass, beginning to crack.

Her mettle was stronger.

Her grief was frightening.

Mipha howled, louder, willing her words to cross the divide.

Even stone could crack. Even steel could bend, under sufficient force.

Mipha could feel the arrow, burrowing deeper, ever deeper.

The force squeezing Zelda’s heart could have shaken the foundations of Hyrule Castle.

She showed none of it on her face.

Zelda approached her, knelt beside her. Removed her silken gloves and slowly, hesitantly, painfully ran her fingers through Mipha’s fur.

Slowly, Zelda’s head bowed beneath the weight bearing down upon her and she buried her face into Mipha’s neck, and through the silence between worlds Mipha felt the quaking of her tears.

Three years… was not a long time. Not now.

This moment was an eternity.

Mipha’s howl rose in pitch, sharply, ever higher, until – abruptly – her awareness was roughly pulled away.

X_0_X

Mipha—

Mipha.

Not Link – not That Link.

Mipha. The Zora. Princess of the Zora. Daughter of King Dorephan, and Champion of the Divine Beast Vah Ruta – Mipha came back to herself shaking, quivering, even amidst the indistinct confines of her dreaming mind.

She—

“Do not die with regrets.”

She twisted around to face the voice. Icy eyes stared back at her; the wolf’s face. That Link’s face, which she had worn.

She had seen through those eyes. She had felt this man. Understood this man, for a short time.

But why?

His mouth did not move, but the voice he spoke with was a razor.

“Do not die with regrets.”

In that moment, her question was answered. Connections formed like a lightning strike. The story had been told. The teller’s purpose…

She blinked against tears. Swallowed, and found that she could do so even within a dream. “I… I understand. I understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

“Good.” The icy eyes turned up at the corners, and some of the pain dropped away. “Life is short. It will not wait. It seldom grants second chances. Do not make our mistakes…”

Mipha bowed her head. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good. Go, child of water. Go forth. Live.”

The words of the dead man washed over her like soothing rain.

Mipha woke.

#Breath of the Wild #Valasania the Pale #Mipha #Link #Zelda #Wolf Link #BoTW #Shrine of Power #My stories #A Healer's Dilemma #Mipha/Zelda/Link #Midna/Zelda/Link

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ralfstrashcan · 6 years ago

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3x19 Reaction / Commentary

I didn't even skip breakfast today, it's almost as if I'm a real functioning adult ahahaha.

SDFALFJSKLDFJASDF I'M ALREADY A MESS

Ngl those first few shots made me think I had fallen headfirst into a zombie apocalypse movie. Wind swooshing through the speakers, no living soul in sight, no cars driving, just Magnus walking along the street, on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams hahahahaha sorry I'll stop.

Wow what a jerk.

There's been so many hilarious jokes about the “What fool summoned you” line, and my favorite one will forever remain this.

So, points to Magnus for asking, minus points for buying this shit not-sound-at-all story. Even “fatherly love” can't just screw the laws of nature, okay, Magnus shouldn't just skim over this. Then again I can definitely cut him slack on this because he is a little preoccupied with other problems at the moment.

Listen, Magnus's body language throughout this whole scene (and also throughout the sneak peek we saw for 3x20) is so expressive. Imma skim over it because I plan to do a thorough Relationship / Scene Analysis for Magnus and Asmodeus, so let me just leave this picture here uncommented.

No wait, I have a question. Isn't Magnus's magic occupied with guarding Lilith's home? Did Asmodeus pick it up before summoning himself or did he call it just now? Also, does Asmodeus know that Lilith is on the loose? Then again, is she even? Because no Shadowhunter can be bothered to look for her and she did say that she wanted to go back to Edom... but that was probably a lie to get Cain to cooperate. And how could she even send herself back to Edom? So many questions. Anyway moving on because who cares about Lilith.

Magnus's face when he gets his magic back. ....................yes I have no witty words here, sorry.

Lol okay I have. I love this scene, I absolutely LOVE Magnus's face and how expressive it is, but I've also been dreaming of an epic eye-sparkling, energy-crackling mid-battle-scene where Magnus regains his magic for uhhhh almost a year now, and in terms of dramatic-ness this was pretty anti-climactic. And I think we can agree he won't lose his magic again and then get it back in a more dramatic fashion. Also where are his cat eyes I feel cheated.

I mean, come on, even he gets to show them!! Btw what a dick cunning move to use them to manipulate Magnus. Since they made a compelling argument the first time around.

Also LOL Asmodeus playing nice for one second and when Magnus denies him he immediately shows his hand with “I won't take no for an answer.” Man has no patience XD

Finally I wanna give a huge HUGE shout out to Magnus for resisting Asmodeus becuase can you even imagine how low he must be feeling and yet he has enough presence of mind left to realize that whatever comfort Asmodeus offers can't be true, there must be a hook and it's best to stay away. Dude what strength.

“I only lost sight of her for a minute.” “Enough time for the Evil Rune to have taken hold.”

Uuuhhhh since when?? Did they also go to the bathroom together before?? Did I miss that?? I mean, sure, Clary was drifting sometimes, but she spent a whole half episode in the same cell as Jonathan with Jace “away” behind the glass wall and out of her sight, so...... yeah. This is a little sudden.

She keeps saying that but we have yet to see her actually filter anything. #nofilter

“No one can hurt us if we get to Morning Star first. And once we have that sword the entire world will be terrified of us....”

So he wants that evil sword not to open a rift but to keep the NY Shadowhunters off his back so he can live his life in peace. I-n-t-e-r-e-s-t-i-n-g.

Yes, good. Finally learned your lesson.

.............Or not??? I mean it's not like Clary pretended to be on his side before, to lull him into a false security and gain the upper hand. Why would he fall for it now? Because he acts like Jace is the only risk factor here, and Clary is of course truly and wholly on his side. I mean, true, the circumstances are different since she freed him and all, but like. Guy must have trust issues by now. Where are they.

Also

he should start a self help group with Alec hahahahahaha *weeping*

Me, waiting for the next episode of Shadowhunters. (Also I just noticed Simon says “me neither” not “mine neither” so it sounds as if he's not Izzy's thing, either and LOL I couldn't agree more ahahaha.)

Uh-huh, I agree. Perfect timing. I mean, it's not like there was a glaring 98% there earlier, and as if he didn't have plenty of time before to bring this unfortunate line of conversation up. This is on you, Simon. Don't blame the filtering.

HAHAHA ASK ALEC, HE'S GOING TO THROW IT AT HIM HAHAHAHAHAHA

Seriously though. Just, uh, crush it into powder, add some saline solution, done. And I'm not even a scientist. This is intuitive. The heck.

I'm 1000000% on board with all of this, okay. Over excited Alec is the best Alec. Handholding is the best. Magnus's weariness of surprises is headcanon confirmed. Yes to all of it.

So there were a few lines that were widely interpreted as allusions to their kinky sex life and tbh I never bought any of it because I thought it was seeing too much where there was nothing, but this is so very obviously meant in a kinky way that I'll accept it. Another headcanon confirmed ahahaha this episode is so generous to me.

Ugh I'm so gonna have to write something about that. And knowing myself, it'll be sad closeted Alec daydreaming of all the things he can never have.

Question time, what are those weird rivets thingies? Do they hold any meaning? Is their placement of importance? Because they look very deliberate and very there. I'm confused.

Also, this scene was designed to drive me crazy. There's 7 different shots where we see the lock's placement and there are no less than 3 (!!!!!) different placements. Placement #1, #3 and #5 are consistent (though really, #1 and #5 shouldn't even count because they are clearly the same shot, just with Magnus's hand reaching for the lock) on the left side of the yellow lock, to the bottom left of the Dips lock.

Then we see Alec placing it in an empty compartment at the very edge of the construction (placement #2), only for it to be on the compartment below that in the next shot (placement #4), sharing space with a little gray-blueish lock. This is the same place from where Magnus removes it then (placement #6).

I hate inconsistencies, okay, and I really did notice all this the first time watching. I can't not-see stuff like this. The only fun that comes out this detail obsessiveness is the lock that clearly ships Captain America and Captain Marvel (left) and the lock that was placed from two years in the future (right) because ahahahaha did the show forget it takes place in 2016?? It would seem so.

And yes, I chose to focus on this instead of the fact that Magnus incinerates their lock because that hurts my heart too much to think about, okay. That scene was perfect, the music swelling in all the right places and just. So heart-wrenching. I might've teared up a little. You can't prove anything.

Why she not removing those paper thingies? Seems impractical.

Paint on face trope? Check.

Yeah Raphael, lemme pay you some respect for facing your mistakes like that. I like it a lot.

Istg if they don't give him GPS this time and just rely on the tracking rune again, which Jonathan and Clary will insist he blocks, then imma flip my shit.

.......................so many fanfics want to be written here, okay. So many.

Also is no one gonna talk about the fact that they all put the ring on the pointer when that's not the intuitive position to place a ring? For security reasons alone you should put it on your middle finger so it doesn't accidentally slip off. Oh right, I forgot. Magic ring.

I love how Alec's voice wavers and you just know he sends Jace away because he'll start crying if he doesn't (even if in this screen cap Alec looks weirdly happy). Btw headcanon that Jace didn't realize something was up at first and was only tipped off when Izzy asked earlier if Alec was okay, and then he prodded at the parabatai connection and realized... there was nothing. Just a solid wall of nothing, because Alec's been sealing off his feelings completely.

1) Wow, Simon, your condolences are amazing. 2) Please, explain? Is she in a coma? Walking around as if she'd had a lobotomy?? But whatever, just skim over this, she's a minor character anyway and nobody cares about her *shrug*

This is the LAZIEST plot convenience I ever had to see with my own two eyes. I really can't work up the energy to rage about this. Just, wtf. Then again, not calling ahead with vital information seems to be Luke's Thing, just remember the 3x15 disaster. At this point it might as well be considered a character trait of him and no longer plot convenience. *sigh* Also, Shadowhunters are major creeps, am I supposed to believe they don't have a few liters of all of their soldiers' blood stored away somewhere, for reasons?

Uh-huh, Izzy. And if you care to remember, that was about 20 episodes ago. And since vampires have a constant craving for blood they seem to have some kind of metabolic. If you want to tell me that Jace's blood is still IN Simon, then either a) he's been chipping away at the Jace-blood-stash he has hidden in his second gastric and if that runs out he'll no longer be a daylighter or b) Jace's blood went into Simon's cells and changed him on a molecular level..... in which case, to extract it they'd have to remove it, un-daylighter-ing Simon in the process. Or maybe just parts of him? Imagine if he was a daylighter except for his left arm or something. In any case, this is majorly ridiculous and I can't believe I have to suffer through this.

????????????? Who opened that portal? I mean, if he had to call on a warlock to get away, wouldn't it have been easiser for Izzy and Co. to stop him from running through that portal and make him donate some blood first? Instead of forcing this bullshit logic on me? Ugh. But I get it, this is necessary to justify a Sizzy scene. Whatever.

Hahahhahha.

Which means nothing, since Jace can activate his runes without his stele. Or did they forget that part again?? I mean, it's been half a season since he last did that.

“And if it wasn't for our connection I suspect you'd do it again.”

lolololol hilarious.

HAHHAHA WILL YOU STOP WITH THE HILARITY

Honestly, the way they all act I get the distinct feeling I'm watching an exasperated kindergartener and two particularly clingy toddlers vying for her attention XD

Uuuuhhhh yeah hit me with more Malec Flashbacks to make me feel shitty, why don't you.

Okay, consoled. Btw thanks for confirming another headcanon that between the two of them Magnus is the one easier swayed by puppy eyes.

HAHAHAHA of course my mind immediately interpreted that as a misguided pun about Magnus being a Prince of Edom hahahaa wtf Alec

Dammit, his eyes. You can really see how he's allowing himself to start dreaming about it.

Also, can't believe they had a kiddie talk with at least some seriousness, what, two months into their relationship?? Haha. And internally Madzie was like “Uh boring grown up talk, at least I got my sprinkles.”

See, this is what I have problems with. On the one hand, even with all his emotional turmoil going on, Magnus is still enough in his right mind not to fall for Asmodeus's sweet talking, but on the other hand he revisits all of those memories and doesn't realize Alec breaking up with him can't have been real? This doesn't really add up. Either he is out of his mind with emotions that he can't see this very very strange happening for being something fishy (then he shouldn’t have been able to so easily resist Asmodeus), or he's still level-headed enough not to be driven by emotions entirely (then he should have realized the breakup was fake).

toddler fight intensifies

I'M WHEEZING HAHAHAHAHAHAH R U FOR REAL. Also remember my statement from last week? Where I said “I mean, in a way it's nice to know that Demonic Clary isn't smarter than Regular Clary.” Turns out she's so much worse than Regular Clary XD

Lol Raphael is that still you talking or the Plot Point? Because ngl, when I saw that sneak peek promo thingy where Jordan eyes the dramatically last vial of serum in the Institute I immediately thought they want to cook up a conflict there, where he steals the last vial needed to help save Clary and bla bla bla. I really hope they don't go down that road because I feel he should be better than this by now. *sigh* In any case, while I enjoyed the first part of this plot line with Raphael coming here to make reparations, this feels really forced and convenient.

OH MY GOD THANK YOU SIMON FOR ASKING THE IMPORTANT QUESTIONS WTF I NEED ANSWERS

Wow can't believe they pulled this obvious and clearly unfitting parallel to Sizzy. I mean, Simon lost his glasses back in S1 and even before that Izzy noticed he was hot in like ep 2. She's been appreciating him as a friend since at least 2B if not sooner. So please don't pretend that she just didn't notice what a great guy he is, because she did. She knows he's someone you can count on, who's there when you need him, with advice or a joke or just to listen to you. She knows all this, and has for seasons. But, surprise surprise, you don't fall in love with everyone who's a great guy and a good friend. That is a thing. Friendships are a thing. Anyway, at least I can wholeheartedly agree that in any possible scenario Izzy is the hot girl XD

HAHAHA JACE THAT'S PAYBACK FOR ALL THOSE TIMES YOU INTERRUPTED MALEC HAHA KARMA IS A BITCH RIGHT

.......or just use glamors to look like Downworlders. Just saying.

Jonathan using the cuts to get a secretive chest grab in on Jace, but I know all those sleazy tricks and you can't slip that feel-up past me #busted

*weeping tears* yeah, and he'll never get the real deal. what a tragedy.

“...the Downworlder club. I think the runes front and center on my neck make a compelling argument, don't you agree?” Also the foreboding background music totally spoiled this 'twist.' (I'm using ''s because it was totally obvious this wouldn't work.)

Look I just love Alec, okay. I LOVE ALEC.

*waves hand* elite guard *waves hand some more* blue mark on his neck *smacks self in the face with waving hand* look i'm pretty sure Meliorn doesn't have a mark like this and he's like, the only Seelie that gets regular screen and talking time with the queen. But I'm way too behind schedule to start looking into it, I might edit something in here later (or never ahahaha).

OH DEAR THE MOMENT OF TRUTH

YES YES YES PLEASE

DUUUUDE WHY ARE YOU GIVING HIM IDEAS WHAT THE HELL

Also, remembering that short sequence of Magnus shooting red magic at his temples from the promo doesn't bode too well for the rest of the episode. Dammit.

You had one job, Lindsay. One. Job. (Yes, please imagine the Loki Gif here. I just love him a lot, okay. Loki <3<3<3)

(^pls imagine her little disenchanted headshake because any screen caps I tried to take made her look drugged out of her mind lol.)

Yep, this is it. This is it.

Sooooo.... how exactly did they persuade the bouncer? Just curious.

HAHAHAAHAH duuuuuude hahahhaa.

........when exactly did Jonathan spy all that? I mean, I've been having questions about the pacing since that ep with the Baby Jonathan Flashbacks, because that manibus whatever demon? Referring to 2x05. So Jonathan only got to earth after that? Howwww? Not thanks to Valentine, right, since he didn't even know Jonathan existed until 2x15 where Jonathan intercepted him from his portal to Idris? And didn't they say Sebastian Verlac disappeared half a year ago?? How does that all match up?

In any case, I feel like the seelie queen suddenly having a warlock boy toy who she can't order into her realm and who she has monthly scheduled appointments with that the whole shadow world knows about is a) totally absurd b) pretty ooc for her and c) reeking of plot convenience. They just couldn't find a better excuse for her to be at a certain place at a certain time. They should have made her attend a fashion show, or hell, a gardening contest. Would have been more credible than whatever this is.

“I grab the queen. Clary portals the three of us away.” “The four of us, including the queen.”

HAHAHHAHAHHA I CAN'T XD XD XD #slightly consoled

WHEN THE HELL DID JONATHAN READ / WATCH THE SHINING ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW WTF!!!!!

1) This doesn't work in real life. Do you have any idea how much time it takes to catch a snow flake or a raindrop this way? I know because I've tried, and the anwer is ages. 2) Seems a very uneconomical way to distrubute drugs. Whoever invented that business model must be in deep depts by now. 3) What kind of shitty plan was that on Jonathan's part? Get Jace on drugs, he'll surely expose himself to be a traitor? I hate the fact that it works. I hate that everyone's shitty plans always work (re: Sizzy's dilettantish prison infiltration) because that's why they all keep making shitty plans. Positive reinforcement and all that. The only one who always gets punched in the face for making okay-to-good plans is Alec, and that's why he's the overthinker. So unfair.

“Well this is awkward because I just stole it for you.”

So frakkin predictable. Also, how did he steal it from the table when Izzy and Simon where guarding it?? It clearly was still there when Maia left and like

Did Jordan just grab it and run? So many questions.

Don't get me wrong, that whole forging the sword sequence was super badass, but like, if you're wielding scorching hot metal it seems a little impractical to just wear security goggles and a leather apron. There were freaking sparks flying and Izzy ducked. What the hell. What about, idk, unconventional but, a protective suit?? And Simon isn't any better. “Oh, I could die from this sword? Just lemme hide behind this doorway real quick.” *sigh* One of these days a character should die because of dumbass behavior, maybe that'd teach them all a lesson.

Also, this is totally logic. They had a splinter from the original sword that they then made tons of serum from, which they saved 3 vials of..... and somehow this was still enough to forge a whole new frikking sword that's apparently just as powerful as the original one. I don't even know where to start with this bullshit.

.................dude, if you wanted to persuade her you should have pointed out the ring to her. But maybe this isn't about logic at all, this is about wanting to know if he is Clary's first choice without logic or reason, and that would make sense for his character, even if it's not the most sensible or productive course of action.

Me, during the fight scene: “Wow, I believe all that Seelie guard slaughtering is not going to end up in a Downworlder vs Shadowhunter war again..... ha..... hahahaha.”

Arguing with a possessed person. Again. Honestly this is the, uhhh, fifth time this happens on this show? And people just seem to never learn. SIGH

Yeah, by not following the plan and acting stupid, so my sympathy is pretty limited aka non-existent. Btw his slide across the Institute floor was hilarious. And also, pretty nice of Clary not to just kill him. This is the second time she's spared him. Interesting.

ISTG IF THIS SCENE ENDS WITH A CLIFFHANGER IF HE GOES THROUGH WITH IT OR NOT IMMA FLIP MY SHIT

*manic laughter* I love that this makes so much sense. Asmodeus needs Magnus's heartbreak so he'll be susceptible to Asmodeus's influence. So his motives are shitty. On the other hand it's not as if what Asmodeus says to Magnus isn't the truth. Fighting through this will make Magnus stronger, no doubt. Knowing he can be this low and still get back on his feet without running away and succumbing to the pain. And I'm glad, for obvious reasons, that Magnus didn't go through with the memory removal because ain't nobody got time for those issues. Mending the breakup in a satisfying was will be hard enough as is. Back to the scene at hand, I gotta say I love this about Asmodeus: He doesn't lie outright, he mostly lies by omission, and he speaks enough truth to really screw with everyone's perception. It's awesome. He is such a great antagonist and his dynamic with Magnus is highly fascinating.

Conclusion: Not enough Malec (seriously, their only scenes together are flashbacks? the frakkin audacity) but tbh I'm still too high on endorphines since the memory removal didn't happen that I'm mostly okay with it. And the Jonathan-Jace comedy was nice.

#shadowhunters #3x19 #magnus bane #alec lightwood #isabelle lightwood #clary fray #jace wayland #asmodeus #simon lewis #jonathan morgenstern #maia roberts #kyle #luke garroway #raphael santiago #reaction

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zoemurph · 7 years ago

Text

to have a friend, chapter eight: $192

on ao3 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

holy shit do NOT expect updates from me this fast after november ends!!!!! i'm frantically doing nano as fast as possible and i am MAJORLY fucking myself over. after this is posted i'm writing 4 essays and catching up on readings (whoops)

this chapter has sooo much going on but a huge thank you to both sarah and flor for making it possible with your very different but very good ideas <3

warnings: depression, anxiety, references to suicide/past suicide attempts/self harm, some poor eating habits, a few mentions of drugs

enjoy and please read the end note on ao3~

High school is bulshit. Connor has known this since he first stepped into the annoyingly bright hallways freshman year because some asshole decided skylights were a good idea. It’s six hours of bullshit, with a bullshit twenty three minute lunch thrown somewhere in the middle.

It’s a lot of bullshit.

Somehow, having a friend makes it…less bullshit. A fake friend. Evan makes everything suck a little less. There’s something to look forward to when he shows up at ass o’clock in the morning. There’s a reason to push through the day, even if it’s just seeing Evan’s smile as he puts books back into his locker. Tuesdays are arguably the best because Connor gets a solid twenty extra minutes with Evan at lunch.

Which in and of itself is its own can of bullshit. A can that Connor should not have opened, but here they fucking are.

There are a few times where Connor genuinely considers telling Evan about his feelings. Platonic and romantic. And then he laughs at himself because no fucking way. On what planet would Evan Hansen like him in any capacity?

Connor is lucky that he’s been able to hold on to Evan as a fake friend. He’s not going to push his luck.

Every time he smiles at Evan he pushes his luck a little more. Every time he asks Evan to hang out without having a legit reason for it he pushes his luck. Every time he thinks about Evan—

Connor focuses on friendship. He focuses on friendship because he will settle for friendship. He would give anything to be Evan’s real friend.

It’s ridiculous but it’s true.

Connor is in way too fucking deep.

“Where have you been?” Larry asks from the couch when Connor opens the front door.

Connor rolls his eyes. “I was with Evan.” And Jared. It was weird but not the worst. Jared kept claiming he could beat Evan at Mario Kart and kept losing and had to buy the pizza. Even if all Connor got out of those three hours was the priceless look on Jared’s face when Connor rolled his pizza up like a burrito with the toppings on the outside, it was worth it.

“Hm.”

Connor shuts the door and pulls off his boots. He drops them by Zoe’s converse. “I told Zoe where I was.”

“So you’re talking to your sister again?”

Connor pauses. He was going to go grab a drink, but apparently not. “Why do you care?”

Larry lowers his phone. “Because she’s your sister.”

“…and?”

“How long have you known Evan?” Larry asks.

Connor frowns. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Answer the question, Connor.”

Connor grimaces at the sharp tone. “I don’t fucking know—”

“Language.”

“—like seven months? Why does it matter?”

Larry slides his phone into his pocket. “And how long have you known Zoe?”

Connor scoffs. “Seriously? Are you about to yell at me for spending time with my friend?”

Larry crosses his arms. “He’s always around.”

“Yeah, because he’s my friend and I like him? Zoe’s with her friends all the time, and you don’t say shit about that.” Connor walks into the dining room. If Larry wants to have this conversation, he either has to follow Connor or yell.

“Connor,” Larry says warningly.

“Maybe Zoe doesn’t want to spend time with me,” Connor snaps. Because Zoe doesn’t. And that’s fine. Connor has made her life hell so he doesn’t blame her for not wanting to have anything to do with him.

Larry stalks into the dining room and sometimes Connor forgets that Larry is where he gets his height. “That’s not the point.”

Connor throws his arm out. “Then what is the point!?”

“You have a better relationship with Evan than with your sister.”

Connor stares at him. “Why does this matter.” For some reason this hurts. It stings like he’s just submerged papercut covered hands in lemon juice. It hurts too much for fire to keep burning.

“You’ve known him for less than a year,” Larry says, voice low and dangerous.

“You think you’d be happy that I’ve found an actual friend,” Connor says numbly. The lie burns his mouth.

“You spend far more time with him than Zoe—”

“He actually wants to be around me!” Connor protests. Because he will listen to his father tear him down, but he won’t listen to him say anything about Evan. Not Evan. “Zoe—”

“Is your sister!” Larry yells. Connor feels his blood run cold. “When was the last time you were actually a brother to her!?”

Connor feels sick. The world cracks and crumbles around the edges and his insides freeze and shatter. He laughs. It hurts his chest. “When was the last time you were a father to me?” he whispers.

Larry’s expression doesn’t change. It stays hard. Cold and distant.

When was the last time—

Connor holds eye contact as long as he can. But he’s broken and the world around him is numbing and dying.

So he leaves.

He pushes past Larry, dropping his eyes to the floor with his tongue heavy in his mouth. He shoves his boots on and throws the door open.

“Where are you going?” Larry yells. Because he can keep doing this. He can do this for hours.

Connor looks out at their driveway. The dying grass and dead plants in neat rows. Brown and wilted and dying and dead. “Why do you care?” he asks.

He slams the door behind him.

It feels good to have a door to slam.

—«·»—

His feet bring him to the playground. There aren’t many places to go in this town.

It’s getting dark. There’s a singular light by the school that still turns on with the other streetlights. It illuminates parts of the playground in a hazy glow.

It doesn’t look real.

Connor sits under the stairs that lead up to the slide. If he closes his eyes, he can bring himself back to elementary school. He digs his hand into the wood chips, cold and jagged and stabbing at his skin. He can pretend. He can hear screaming and laughter and kids running up the stairs trying not to slip. Kids hiding under here, whispering secrets to each other. Someone throws the woodchips at someone else and gets yelled at. They play clapping games and tic-tac-toe in the dirt. They pull up grass and throw it in the air and fall off the monkeybars and fight over the swings and stand under the trees and play in the mud—

Connor takes a shaky breath as hot tears run down his cheek. He scrubs them away with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

He hates crying. He hates how it makes him feel. He hates how tears feel, he hates the runny nose, he hates the sobbing and the ragged breathing and how it makes him feel weak.

He sniffs and wipes away more tears. God, he needs to get high. But he refuses to go home and his stash is running out because he’s low on cash because he’s been spending it all on Evan.

Evan.

Connor flexes his hands — they’re cramped from the cold and from the fists he’s been squeezing them in — and pulls his phone out of his pocket. At least it hasn’t shut off from the cold yet, that’s happened to him before and it’s annoying to deal with.

From: Connor To: Evan tell zoe im fine just needed to blow off steam emphasize im not with you

He’s surprised he can type actual words let alone with no spelling mistakes. His hands are cold and shaking. He presses his phone against his forehead and takes a slow breath.

Fuck.

Every atom in his body wants to walk to Evan’s right now. He just wants to be near Evan. There’s something about Evan that’s undeniably calming, even though Evan could be described as nervous energy barely held together in a human form. Something about Evan that makes him feel less at war with himself.

But he already used up his time with Evan for the day. Even just texting Evan feels like too much.

His phone buzzes against his forehead.

From: Evan To: Connor Ok j ust did!! Is everyhting ok??? Do you need ot talk ??

Connor stares at the message. He kind of want to cry again, which fucking sucks. And he told Evan that he would tell him if something was wrong but— no.

From: Connor To: Evan no not now maybe later

Connor stares at their conversations.

He asked Evan about cats at four in the morning once. Evan hadn’t responded until he woke up two hours later — good — but when he did he had a bunch of random cat facts. And pictures of Jared’s cat to share.

It felt like friendship. That’s what friendship feels like, right? Connor doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. But he thinks, somehow, he’s broken things. Whatever they are. Because he’s too attached. He’s too involved. Everything is too much.

He digs his fingers into the woodchips again.

Connor can’t decide if it’s better if Evan likes him or hates him.

—«·»—

Zoe texts him. He knows because his phone buzzes and he looks down and he sees her name right above Evan’s. Connor’s phone is at 4%. He turns on airplane mode and locks it without reading any of their texts.

Connor rests his chin on his knees and stares ahead into the darkness.

He doesn’t want to walk home. He knows he has to or he’ll probably freeze to death but that wouldn’t be too bad, would it?

No, that’s a bad idea.

Connor stretches his legs out in front of him. They feel weird, he’s spent so long with them pulled up against his chest. If he stands he might fall over.

He can’t feel his hands when he gets up off the ground. He climbs out from under the slide and holds onto the railing as his legs remember how they’re supposed to work.

He’s tired.

Connor squints into the darkness as he leaves the playground. The streets are so poorly lit in this area that he’s probably going to fall and break something. That’s what happens when people don’t use an area. They don’t care for it. And then some asshole teenager breaks his fucking leg walking home in the dark.

His phone would probably die before he could call for help too.

Connor stuffs his hands in his pockets and starts walking. He knows he should probably pay more attention, but he barely pays attention to the few cars on the roads as he makes his way down the sidewalk. As he gets into a more residential area, it gets a little brighter.

He looks up to cross a street and locks eyes with a doe standing in someone’s yard. It stares at him for a long moment before bounding away into the darkness.

Connor looks both ways and crosses the street, stepping around a puddle that’s starting to freeze over.

He stops when he gets to the bottom of his driveway.

If Larry tries to talk to him when he goes inside, he’ll leave. Connor’s already decided. He doesn’t know where he’ll go, but he’ll leave.

Connor huffs. He really just wants his bed right now.

The door is unlocked when he tries the doorknob. He frowns and slowly pushes the door open. A lamp is on in the living room, though the rest of the rooms are dark.

He quietly takes his boots off and closes and locks the door as softly as possible.

“Connor?” Cynthia asks as soon as he takes another step into the house.

Connor sighs. “Yeah it’s me.”

She gets up from the couch and hurries over to where he’s standing by the front door. “I was so worried,” she whispers, reaching up to touch his cheek. “Oh, Con, you’re freezing.”

“It is November,” Connor tries to joke. The singular stings.

The crease in Cynthia’s forehead gets deeper.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

“Zoe said Evan texted her— were you with him?”

Connor pulls away. “No,” he says sharply. “I wasn’t. I don’t spend every fucking moment with him, god.” He walks toward the kitchen. His hands are still ice and he needs something to warm them.

“I never said you did.” Cynthia follows him. “Your father—”

“Don’t.”

Cynthia sighs. “Connor, we can’t pretend that didn’t happen.”

“I’m going to try.” He debates making coffee, but all that will get from his mom is a disapproving look. He reaches for Zoe’s mint hot chocolate instead.

Cynthia makes a frustrated noise. “Where did you go, Connor?”

“Out.” He grabs the first mug he sees. He resists the urge to drop it when he realizes it’s one of Larry’s, old and orange and so well used that the logo has washed off the side of it.

“Were you out smoking again?”

“No.” He almost wants to laugh. He wishes. He takes the milk out of the fridge and pours it into the mug. He’s too tired to do anything more than microwave milk right now.

“Are you sure?”

Connor sighs and turns to Cynthia with the mug in his left hand. “Mom, you would know if I had been high tonight. Weed smells? Remember?” He brushes past her and puts the mug in the microwave.

Cynthia watches him with sad eyes. She always looks sad and it’s Connor’s fault which is… It’s kind of shitty. “I was terrified,” she says softly.

Connor grimaces.

“I kept thinking… I was so worried that maybe you…”

If she starts crying— Connor doesn’t actually know what he’ll do. “I was fine,” he promises. “I wasn’t going to do anything.”

“Would you tell me if you were going to?”

Connor can’t meet her eyes. He watches the numbers count down on the microwave. He pulls the door open before it can beep. Cynthia sighs as he puts too much hot chocolate powder in the milk. Connor stirs carefully, trying not to spill all over the counter.

“You can always talk to me, sweetheart,” Cynthia says, squeezing his shoulder. Connor shrugs and she presses a kiss to his cheek. “We can talk in the morning. Sleep well.”

Connor stares down into his hot chocolate as she leaves the kitchen.

He has the strong urge to just sit on the floor and waste away.

He takes his hot chocolate up to his room and sits in bed and watches the Great British Baking Show on his laptop. It feels weirdly fake.

At some point he falls asleep. It all feels the same.

“Connor. Connor. Connor!”

Connor groans and rolls over so he’s not facing his doorway.

“Connor, if you don’t get up now, you’re walking to school.”

He squeezes his eyes shut tighter. “‘m not going,” he mumbles.

Zoe grabs his shoulder and shakes him. “Get up!”

Connor shoves her hand away. “Go away!”

“I’m not dealing with your shit—”

“I’m not going!” Connor twists to glare at her. “Fuck off, I’m not going.”

Zoe stares at him. She’s all ready. Her hair is braided over one shoulder, her makeup is done. Connor can’t even remember when she started wearing makeup. He doesn’t know when Zoe grew up.

“Did you hear me?” he snaps. “I’m not going to school.”

She takes a step away. “Okay. Okay. Fine. You’re not going.” She keeps looking at him. Why is she looking at him like that? “Go back to sleep.” She slips out of the room and Connor keep looking at the space she occupied.

He hears the front door open and close. He pulls the covers over his head and goes back to sleep.

—«·»—

Connor wakes up a little bit before noon.

His head hurts and his mouth tastes like death. He stumbles out of bed just to brush his teeth. He probably wouldn’t move other than the fact that his mouth is gross.

While he’s looking at himself in the bathroom mirror as he mindlessly brushes his teeth, he realizes he never changed out of yesterday’s closes. He’s still wearing ripped jeans and an old sweatshirt.

His phone is still sitting on his desk with 2% left. Connor plugs it in and turns off airplane mode and puts on sweatpants that are a little too big and a hoodie that has old paint stains on it. Then he gets back in bed.

He watches videos on his laptop, not really paying attention to what’s on the screen. He looks away in surprise when his phone vibrates. He picks it up and skims through the messages. He never read the ones from last night.

From: Evan To: Connor Ok IM gonna hol d you to that ok??

From: Z To: C Why the fuck did Evan just text me???? Where are you? What happened all I heard was Dad yelling and then you were gone Connor Don’t fucking ignore me

Missed call and voicemail from Z

Missed call from Z

From: Z To: C Pick up asshole

Missed call from Z

From: Evan To: Connor Umm Zoes freaking ou ton me? Connr what happened wheer are y ou ?

Missed call from Z

From: Z To: C Fuck you Ok? Seriously fuck you You’re killing mom I hope you’re fucking happy If we find you dead in a ditch somewhere I swear

From: Evan To: Connor Pl ease answ er some on e

From: Z To: C I heard you and mom in the kitchen. Fuck you. You can’t do this You’re terrifying Connor You scare the shit out of me I know you won’t respond tonight. I’ll tell Evan you’re ok This shit isn’t funny

From: Evan To: Connor Zo ejust text dme Im glad youre ok but I wsih you answered your phone I know thing s get hard but please let people know yoru esafe because otherwise peoplestart to think the wrs t and then they bother you and dont let you leave their sight We just want the bes t for you we want you to be ok Ill see you tomorrwo

From: Z To: C Just told Evan you won’t be here today. I’m guessing you still haven’t responded to him. Maybe try to be a good friend. Or even just a friend.

From: Evan To: Connor Zoe said you werent coming in today?? A reyou ok? Thats hte worst question to ask IM so sorry Please talk ot me Connor Its importan t Im coming over after school I knw thats invading on your personal space but I need to know if youre ok andif youre not going to answer texts I don tknow how else to reach you I have to help alana with stuco stuff because no on eelse wants to hang posters but Ill be there afterward even if its only for like two minutes can we please talk??

“I’m home!” Zoe shouts.

Connor glances up to the top of his phone to see the time. Shit. It’s already two. He doesn’t know how he lost so much time to YouTube. Which means Evan will be here…soon.

From: Connor To: Evan ok

“Connor?” Zoe calls out.

Connor stares at her texts and feels his stomach turn. “What?” he yells back.

“Come get your boots! Mom wants us to move ours shoes!”

He scowls and lays back down. “Fuck off!”

She yells at him to get them again, but he just puts headphones in and ignores her. He lays in bed and stares at the wall and listens to music that is way too loud. It would be nice to feel something right now. He distantly hears Zoe yell again and tries to turn the music up louder. The volume doesn’t increase and he makes a face and does a silent eulogy for his eardrums.

Zoe shouts his name again and Connor sighs and yanks out his earbuds. He tried. “What?!”

He can’t make out whatever she says next, but then she shouts, “You’re a dick!”

“Not fucking news,” he snaps. He’s about to put his headphones back in when Evan appears in his doorway. He’s still wearing his backpack and his arms are filled with food and there’s something tucked under his arm.

Connor stares at him. “What the fuck.”

Evan laughs awkwardly. “No dishes in the sink. We realized you probably didn’t eat today.” He looks down at the food he’s holding. There are chips and a container of strawberries and a loaf of bread and he’s carefully balancing a bowl on top of the strawberries.

“Why didn’t you—”

“Zoe had to run,” Evan says. “Something about an emergency piano job?”

Connor squints. “I forgot she plays piano.”

Evan nods. “Someone’s accompaniment is sick so I think she has to fill in. Can you, uh…”

“Oh, right.” Connor gets out of bed and takes the bowl from Evan. It’s filled with leftover mac n cheese. He puts it on the desk and then takes the chips.

“A-anyway, Zoe had to run and two trips are for suckers.” Evan puts the strawberries and bread down on the desk.

Connor rolls his eyes. “Okay.”

“These are also for you.” Evan pulls a stack of mail out from under his arm. “Looks like mostly college stuff.”

“Fucking college board,” Connor mutters. “Never should’ve taken the SATs.”

“Yeah, same. They won’t leave me alone. Oh! And Alana gave me notes for you for english. She started saying something about like…chiasmic?”

“Chiasmus,” Connor mutters, looking through the mail. Nothing he cares about. Great. He can set it on fire.

“Yeah that’s it!” Evan takes off his backpack and puts it on the floor to take out a notebook.

Connor stares at him. “Evan?”

Evan looks up at him. “Yeah?”

“Are… Why are you wearing my boots?”

“Oh.” Evan stands up straighter and lifts one of his feet. “Zoe kept yelling at you to bring your boots upstairs. Figured if I was bringing you all this I just…take them too?”

Connor stares at him. Evan looks kind of ridiculous. Connor’s all too familiar black combat boots are paired with Evan’s usual khakis and a gray sweatshirt with a striped polo peaking out from under it. The boots go up a little too high on Evan’s shins which adds to the look and Connor is now noticing that they give Evan a few inches that he definitely does not actually have.

“Is this what it’s like to be tall?” Evan asks with a smile.

Connor snorts. “No, Hansen. It’s not.”

Evan shrugs. “I’ll take it.”

“Aren’t those kind of big for you?” Connor’s mind is still trying to process this. Evan is wearing his shoes. That’s definitely not something he’s thought about before. Or ever considered. He thinks his brain might be resetting.

“Oh god yes.” Evan sits down on Connor’s bed and unlaces one of the boots. “It’s actually a miracle I didn’t like…fall down your stairs or something. That would’ve been embarrassing.”

“And painful.”

“That too.” Evan pulls off the boot. He’s still wearing his old sneakers.

Connor opens and closes his mouth a few times. “Hey, Ev?”

Evan starts untying the other boot. “Yup?”

“You’re wearing…your shoes in my boots?”

Evan looks Connor in the eye. “I already told you, two trips are for suckers.”

Connor laughs. It’s weird to laugh right now, like it’s the wrong emotion to feel. But he laughs and smiles at Evan because there is something about Evan wearing sneakers in his boots that’s ridiculous but also makes Connor’s stomach fill with butterflies. “Okay, Ev. Whatever you say.” He falls onto his front on the bed next to Evan. The moment feels too light. And then all of Evan’s texts come back at him in a crushing wave.

Connor grimaces. “Um…sorry for last night.”

Evan glances back at him over his shoulder. “I…” He rubs a hand over his face. “You scared us.” He says it softly, like a secret, and stares at his feet.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Connor admits. “I just… Fuck, I just needed to get out. And then my phone was almost dead and I didn’t want to talk to people… I fucked up.”

Evan nods. He wordlessly pulls his sneakers off and then crosses his knees on the bed.

“I had a fight with Larry it was…” Connor rolls onto his back and sits up. “I needed to be alone, I guess. I wasn’t really thinking about other people when I left. I didn’t even bring my house key.”

Evan scoots further onto the bed. “What did you fight about?”

Connor searches Evan’s face. His eyes trail over Evan’s freckles. They dot his face like stars. “Nothing serious,” he mumbles. “It just got out of hand.”

Evan leans back on his hands. “Is that why you didn’t come to school today?”

Connor runs a hand through his hair. “I guess. I just… Zoe woke me up and getting out of bed just seemed like the worst fucking option ever. I think I yelled at her, but I barely remember waking up.” He grabs the bowl of mac n cheese off the desk. Food. Right.

Evan nods. “I… There are days like that. Where getting up makes me want to cry.” He holds out a hand. “Can I have the chips?”

“That sucks.” Connor hands over the bag of chips and continues eating mac n cheese. The sooner he finishes this the sooner he can go back to not being a person.

“Yeah, kind of.”

Connor sighs. “Aren’t we a fucking pair.” He pushes pasta around the bowl.

Evan tilts his head. “Yeah,” he mumbles.

Connor frowns. “What is it?”

Evan shakes his head. “Nothing. I thought of something, but it’s not important.”

“Are you sure?”

Evan nods and reaches for Connor’s laptop. “Let’s just watch something and pretend our lives aren’t horrible.”

Connor watches Evan carefully as Evan opens YouTube and scrolls through the recommended videos until he finds one that isn’t too weird sounding. “Yeah that sounds like a good plan.” He puts his bowl back on the desk— he only had a few bites but his stomach is kind of done with food.

Connor takes the laptop from Evan and scoots over so they can both lean against the pillows. He rests the laptop on his knees. Evan’s arm presses against Connor’s and Connor tries not to think about it. He tries to focus on the random video that Evan chose. It’s probably funny or something.

But he can’t. Because Evan is here.

Evan is warm and curled toward Connor and his hair smells nice and he’s leaning his head against Connor’s shoulder to see the screen better. And Connor’s heart is doing this weird thing where it feels like it’s being squeezed which is honestly so fucking rude.

Evan sighs and moves a little closer.

Yup. This is hell.

—«·»—

“Connor!”

Connor’s heart races as he wakes with a jerk. He’s about to move when he notices the weight on his torso. He looks down to see Evan’s head resting on his chest.

Connor stops breathing.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy—

“Connor?”

Connor groans and squints into the bright light of the hallway. When did he fall asleep? When did it get so fucking dark out? Why is Evan sleeping on him? Why is Zoe always so loud? “Wha?”

“You aren’t dead.” A smile plays at the corner of her mouth. Connor squints at her. “Get your ass downstairs, we’re about to—”

Evan sits up, rubbing his eyes.

Zoe stares at him. Her eyes go from Connor to Evan. Connor wants to go back to sleep. He wants Evan cuddled against him because fuck that was really nice.

“Zoe?” Evan asks, voice soft.

Connor is not mentally equipped for this.

“…thought Evan went home,” Zoe says slowly.

“No,” Connor says. “Nap.”

“Right. Right.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “Cool. Okay.” She clears her throat. “We were going to…” She gestures over her shoulder. “You know…”

Connor narrows his eyes as he tries to figure out what she means.

“Friday night? Shabbat?”

Connor props himself up on his elbows. “Oh. Right.” He looks to Evan. Evan’s hair is messy and sticking up in all directions and it’s making Connor’s heart do weird things.

Zoe follows his gaze. “Uh… Evan can…join us? If he…?” She gives Connor a desperate look. “Or stay here? Or sleep…? Um…” She raises her eyebrows at Connor. Connor shakes his head.

“Uh…I don’t really…” Evan clears his throat. “My mom and I— we don’t really do anything for Shabbat at home…because… My mom works a lot so we don’t— I don’t really…know what I’m supposed to do?”

Tension seems to leave Zoe as she smiles at Evan. “Don’t worry about it, we can show you. Connor doesn’t know what he’s doing either.”

Connor flips her off and throws off his covers. “I won’t be insulted in my own fucking home,” he mutters.

Evan crawls over Connor’s legs to get out of bed. “You sure I w-won’t ruin it?” he asks Zoe, tugging on his shirt.

“Swear,” she says, drawing an x over her heart. “We haven’t set the house on fire yet, so you’ll be fine.”

Evan steps past her into the hallway and Zoe immediately raises her eyebrows at Connor. Connor gives her a look.

“What is this,” she hisses into his ear.

“What do you mean?” he whispers back.

She gestures to Evan. “When did you two get together?”

Connor jerks away. “What?”

Zoe stares at him. “You’re—”

“No!” He lowers his voice. “Zoe what the fuck—”

“I don’t know! He gets you to eat and sleep what the fuck am I supposed to think?”

“Not that?”

“A-are you two coming?” Evan asks from the top of the stairs.

Connor and Zoe exchange a look.

“Later,” Zoe says.

“No.” Connor walks over to Evan and tugs on his sleeve. “Let’s go.”

Zoe squeezes past them on the stairs, flicking the back of Connor’s head as she goes. “Mom! Evan’s joining us!”

Evan grabs Connor’s hand at the foot of the stairs. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to do,” he whispers with wide eyes.

“It’s fine,” Connor promises. “Just stand next to me and do what I do. But you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Evan looks toward the kitchen. “I… It’ll be fine. Yeah. I-I want to do this.”

Connor gives him a small smile and pulls him into the dining room. Cynthia places down another glass as they walk in and smiles at Evan. Evan nods and fiddles with his hands and Connor resists the annoyingly strong urge to hold his hand.

Zoe passes around her purple kippot from a drawer near the sink, and Connor wonders how long it’ll take before his falls off this time. He watches Evan read the inscription inside of the date of her bat mitzvah, before nervously pressing it on his head.

They stand behind their chairs at the table, small glasses of grape juice — or in Larry’s case, red wine — next to their plates. Connor watches as Cynthia lights the candles and waves her hands over them before covering her eyes so she can’t see the flames as she sings a short prayer for the candles.

Connor tries to concentrate on the Hebrew instead of the glow reflected in Evan’s eyes. Those are bad thoughts. And it’s also not the time for them.

Cynthia moves to her seat and lifts her wine glass. Connor nudges Evan as the rest of the family does the same. Evan shoots him a thankful look and a tiny smile. They keep the glasses aloft as Cynthia makes Kiddush, only awkwardly joining in at the end of the blessing.

Connor remembers Zoe learning the other parts of it for her bat mitzvah, but she probably feels too uncomfortable to sing along with Evan here. Not that Evan is the most awkward and uncomfortable part of their dysfunctional family.

Everyone takes a sip of their drinks — Evan a little belatedly — and Cynthia removes the ornate cover from her handmade loaves of challah on the cutting board. Connor remembers when she used to buy challah for them, ordered specially from a bakery, shiny and with white flour. Sometimes on holidays they had raisins.

Now she bakes them gluten free and several weeks in advance, but at least he remembers the blessing for once (the food was really the part of Hebrew school he looked forward to), so he joins in quietly with everyone, trying not to focus on Evan’s wavery stuttering. The bread is sliced and the cutting board is passed around, and they all take their seats.

Connor hears an audible sigh of relief from Zoe. Evan looks to Connor and gives him a half smile. He’s gripping the hem of his shirt in his hands under the table. Connor smiles back.

Zoe is still right, they haven’t burned the house down.

Dinner is awkward. Honestly, Connor wasn’t expecting anything else. It’s awkward and quiet and the little talking that is done is done by Zoe and Cynthia. Connor does his best to just not look in Larry’s direction. He will ignore this as long as he possibly can. Next to him, Evan is tense and keeps his eyes mostly on his plate. Sometimes him and Connor make eye contact and Evan will give him a tiny smile and Connor’s heart tries out a fun new pattern. Evan keeps touching his kippah, sometimes adjusting it, eyebrows furrowing whenever he does. He’s probably worried about it slipping or falling into the soup or something and honestly, Connor relates.

They survive. That’s the important part.

“Told you it’d be fine,” Connor says as they go back up to his bedroom. Evan probably has to go home at some point but Connor is very pointedly not thinking about that.

Evan laughs. “I thought my kippah was going to fall off. I’d probably find a way to make it catch fire.”

“I’d be impressed.”

Connor eyes the stack of snacks on his desk before grabbing the carton of strawberries and sitting on the edge of his bed.

Connor holds out a strawberry and Evan takes it while saying, “You know, we just ate.” Connor shrugs. “Fruit is healthy.”

“I mean you aren’t wrong.” Evan drops down on the bed next to Connor.

Connor stares at him for a few moments. He’s probably got some sort of embarrassingly soft look on his face but it’s fine. Then he remembers that Evan is here. “Oh shit, I have money here some—”

“No,” Evan interrupts.

Connor shakes his head. “We agreed—”

“Fuck Jared’s list,” Evan says. He glances to the doorway and lowers his voice. “I wanted to be here, Con. I wanted to see you. D-don’t… You don’t have to pay me.”

“Are you sure?” Connor asks softly. He feels…like he’s using Evan but worse. Because this is not the agreement.

Evan nods. “I’m sure.”

Connor runs a hand through his hair and looks away. “Okay,” he says, stomach turning. It’s okay. It’s fine. “Okay.”

#connor murphy #evan hansen #tree bros #convan #deh #my fics #to have a friend #so many things are happening

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kurtwarren54 · 7 years ago

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Pregnancy / First Trimester

I am excited to share with you a First Trimester pregnancy update today. I gave you a peek in my pregnancy announcement post but I wanted to update you on all the little things that have been going on. Hope to make my updates more frequent as I make my way through this process and I just can’t wait to share every moment with you all. You all really just blow me away with your constant support and check ins and my heart just bursts to be able to share my pregnancy with you. AH I have chills still when I say that out loud. My pregnancy. HOLY CRAP GUYS!!! Hope you enjoy these updates and if there is anything else you are dying to know, please leave me a comment on this blog post and I will be sure to include in my next update.

WEIGHT GAINED I gained a considerable amount of weight during IVF treatment which is hard to swallow when you just want your body to be at it’s prime when you get pregnant. Unfortunately, us fertility warriors don’t have the luxury to walk into pregnancy as fit and strong as others. It’s something that obviously is just insult to injury after all the struggles but of course a small price to pay to get to the other end of this process. So while I was not at my ideal weight to start pregnancy, I know it was all for a greater purpose. Since my transfer, I have gained about 4 lbs. I actually ended up losing weight first during my first trimester due to nausea and finally started to gain weight toward the end of the first trimester. With every pound i know the baby is growing bigger and stronger and that is a precious feeling.

HOW I’M FEELING: PHYSICALLY Nausea: My nausea would last 24/7 all day long. Luckily I was not vomiting but the constant nausea made it very difficult to do anything. Leaving the house was a huge chore because of not feeling well. I have tried all the at home remedies and will share what has best worked for me. I always stash snacks (usually wheat thins) in my nightstand. I try to wake up and munch on crackers first thing while I am still laying in bed. My favorite morning drink of choice has been mint tea. It’s helped to settle some of the nausea and helps me to keep taking in fluids. I also bought preggie pop drops to suck on when I had bouts of nausea throughout the day. These were easy to throw in my purse if I had nausea strike while I was on the go. Another key to get through the day was packing snacks. I stashed snacks both in my car, in my purse, in Blake’s car, you name it. My snacks of choice: Blue Diamond Mini Nut-Thins in sea salt or cheddar, cheese-it’s, or goldfish. Having something in my stomach at all times was key. Even if it was just a tiny nibble.

Growing pains: Since the uterus is busy growing to accommodate a growing little one, I felt a lot of crampy pains, typically called round ligament pains, while my uterus was expanding to make room for baby. I would especially notice them more in the evenings.

Pregnancy Brain: I swear pregnancy brain is a real thing. I talked about it a little bit in our pregnancy announcement. I feel like my brain is just not functioning the same. I am so forgetful and my brain is just a jumbled mess.

Vision changes: This one is weird but I feel like my vision has been shifting. I already have super bad eyes and sometimes I find I have more sensitivity since I have become pregnant.

Skin: My skin has been through the ringer with the ups and down of hormones with IVF treatment so I feel like the skin changes are not as dramatic for me. I will say that I have hormonal issues on the one side of my face and also notice more inconsistencies and redness in my skin overall. But, I know it could be much worse so I am pretty lucky my skin issues have been minor so far.

Exhaustion: Everyone talks about the exhaustion of the first trimester and it’s true. By early afternoon I just don’t have the energy for anything. Unfortunately, work and life doesn’t stop just because your tired so I find little things to help lift up those afternoon slumps. Since I know the exhaustion is inevitable, I make sure to not over schedule or over commit myself. It’s so important to take care of yourself during this time. After all, I am growing a tiny life inside of me and that is my most important priority. Making sure to schedule in days with no meetings and big commitments to break up a busy week was key for me during this time. Know your body, and know when to say no.

Sense of smell: Before I was pregnant I had a very strong sense of smell. So when I became pregnant… oh my god those senses went through the roof. I remember around 6 weeks I was at a restaurant waiting for our table outside and someone was smoking a cigar down the street. I became violently aware of the cigar smoke and the person smoking was basically down the street. I literally smell everything and let Blake know when things are bothering me, whether he can help me with them or not. HA! Blake is a trooper handing an irrational hormone lady.

HOW I’M FEELING: MENTALLY Excited. Nervous. Anxious. Happy. Overwhelmed. Hopeful. You name it, I am feeling it. Emotionally I have been a rollercoaster. I think I have had so much disbelief coming to terms that our dreams had really come true to have a child. As each week passes, both Blake and I become more excited to move through each milestone. I count the days till I can see or hear the baby again since I am not feeling baby’s movement just yet. I think seeing and hearing the baby is there and healthy is such an important confirmation for me to know everything is ok.

In terms of other emotions, I have found myself to be a lot more irritable. The funny thing is sometimes I see myself being an unreasonable hormonal monster as the words are coming out of my mouth and it’s almost like word vomit that I can’t stop. Poor Blake has to deal with most of it (sorry hubs!!) but it’s something I am working on so I don’t scare my friends with my raging hormones. I think that with all the body changes that are happening so quickly, it wears down your spirits and mood and it’s easy to lose your composure. In those moments, I just have to tell myself how lucky I am to be here and this will all be worth it when we get to meet our baby. While there are tough days, I feel almost guilty to complain about bad physical or emotional symptoms because of how much we went through to get here and how hard others fight to get pregnant. But, I think it’s valid to acknowledge that pregnancy is really hard and it’s ok to not have it together at every moment, to cry because things are hard, and to feel those feelings. Everyone’s journey to baby is so different and it’s ok to feel both the highs and lows of the process and express them.

WHAT I’M EATING So much of my first trimester was eating grilled cheese sandwiches, or cheese melted on a pita. With my nausea, toast and cheese were some of my comfort foods. I ate tons of eggs for breakfast and for lunch. Egg salad on toast became my best friend and a great way to get some protein. Another go to snack? String Cheese. Easy to grab and go when I needed a protein boost. After the first few weeks, I was able to go back to my normal diet. Something about Italian food though just comforted me and didn’t seem to upset my stomach. I continued to eat fish (which I eat at least 3 times a week) and chicken and turkey. The only thing I guess I am very adverse to right now is red meats. Nothing about them sounds good and when I had it my stomach would become very upset. I also try to stick with foods without a ton of different flavor profiles. The simpler the better for me. I still ate alot of flavorful food but not too many complex things going on.

I skipped coffee completely until about week 10/11 because for me, I was just being extra cautious even with decaf coffee. I then started to have an occasional decaf coffee and it made me SO happy to have that as part of my routine again.

HOW I’M SLEEPING What sleep??? I can’t even begin to tell you that sleeping has been hell. Everyone loves to joke to me that “I should get used to it for when baby comes!” Let me tell you… that is NOT what a struggling first trimester pregnant woman wants to hear… so if you think about smirking and dishing out that line to someone… think twice about it. With nausea striking before bed time, that was the first part of not being able to sleep because I felt like I had to hurl. Once I would get to sleep, I would just constantly toss and turn all night long. On top of that, came the middle of night trips to the bathroom. I was so exhausted during my first trimester and I literally could not even take naps because I just could not sleep. This was super frustrating to me because I am someone that always plans out my days to make sure to take care of myself and get the shut eye I need. My doctor recommended Unisom to help get my sleep schedule back on track. I am going to do a whole blog post on things I did to get a good night sleep (whether your pregnant or not).

EXERCISE Because I went through IVF, I basically have not been able to really work out for 2 years. So at this point, I am pretty used to be limited in the physical fitness department. Because of how crappy I was feeling, doing any type of exercise was simply out of the question. I went for walks with Lola but that was pretty much it. I pretty much have just tried to track my steps and make sure I was walking around enough during the day. I have been GLUED to my apple watch, which I could not recommend enough, since it tracks my steps and my heart rate.

CHALLENGES Reaching the end of the first trimester: I feel like after everything we went through during IVF, the first trimester was filled with so much anxiety. It’s like we were waiting for the other shoe to drop and anxiously waiting for each weekly appointment to come and go to reach out next milestone. I think alot of the heartache and struggles both Blake and I dealt with during IVF programmed our brains to always be ready for the worst case scenario. But each week would come and go, and our little miracle baby keeps hitting new milestones. Just gives me chills just thinking about that.

Keeping our pregnancy a secret: Keeping the secret from you guys was TERRIBLE. Especially not being able to share what I was going through in real time started to get really hard and lonely. I was so used to being open with you all and sharing the experiences both good days and bad and it left me feeling very, very sad. It’s the only way I can describe it! I also had a hard time keeping it from people when I would see them in person. Since everyone knew we were doing an embryo transfer… it’s impossible to hide the fact that we knew either way whether it had worked. So seeing friends in person, I would usually cave and just tell them because I am a TERRIBLE liar.

Spotting blood: The spotting during the first few weeks was a total mind f*ck if you can excuse my language. I also had spotting after my vaginal ultrasounds and it was all a constant mind game. I was in such a nervous state for the first trimester and this was one of the main reasons. Apparently it’s very common for women to spot in their first trimester so I had to just take a deep breath and know that baby was fine and healthy and this was going to pass.

WHAT I’M WEARING The first thing to go was my regular bras. I found that they started to suffocate me so I invested in some bralettes to accommodate the growth. It happened almost overnight and I ran to Nordstrom and had a really sweet lady help me pick out a few things. This is my current favorite from that trip. I also picked up this cotton bra from Hatch since I was looking for something white with thin straps. Have been wearing this one most days.

I am still wearing my pre-pregnancy clothes and denim. Since I was always up in weight from all the IVF treatments, I have a couple pair of IVF denim that are a size up from my normal size which is great because I have been able to wear them even into my second trimester. Gym pants have gotten harder so I caved and bought these cozy maternity leggings from Gap and I am telling you… I now have 4 pairs. They are so comfy and they are helping me through this weird transition where I am starting to outgrow my normal clothes but not quite ready for maternity clothes.

SELF LOVE I held off from doing a lot in the early weeks because I was being EXTRA crazy careful of everything. Call me paranoid…. I think in the end you have to do what is comfortable for you during pregnancy and if you have a bad feeling over something that is even allowed, just skip it. I eventually got a mani pedi closer to week 10 and it just felt like such a treat to do something for myself that made me feel good. I have also been taking time to myself at the end of the night to curl up with my kindle and read my pregnancy books. Currently reading this and this.

RECENT PURCHASES I didn’t buy much during the first trimester but below are a few things I picked up.

What to Expect When You’re Expecting

Nurture

Hatch Bra

Freepeople Bra

Gap maternity leggings

Bio-oil for stretch marks

Artifact Uprising Baby Book (I was very sentimental about this purchase but I put it away for safekeeping until we got out of the first trimester)

Of course Blake has bought the baby literally every Philly sports team onesie he can find so we have sports onesies covered in our house. HA! If you don’t know, we are both from Philadelphia so the baby doesn’t know it yet, but it’s all Philly love when it comes to sports.

BABY PREPARATIONS A big prep we had to take care of was finding an OBGYN. This STRESSED ME OUT SO MUCH. Everyone wants to find the perfect doctor and I felt like the pressure was one since I didn’t have an OBGYN since we moved and had been going exclusively to the fertility doctor. Finding a doctor was a big thing to check off the list. Another thing we did was online register to have our baby at the hospital we want to deliver and to sign up for all our prenatal classes. One of the last baby prep items on the list is to just let go and really take in the fact, that this pregnancy is it. This baby is it. Giving myself permission to really celebrate this and look forward into the future and what that means with our little one. The first trimester was filled with so much hope and anxiety at the same time and I have tried my best to always remember to be kind to myself and really know that this is it.

WHATS NEXT I am currently in my second trimester and working on our gender reveal for you guys (EEEK!!!) hopefully going up next week. Boy or Girl???? Can’t wait to share!!! Other than that I am gearing up for my anatomy ultrasound next week. I have been DYING to actually SEE the baby on ultrasound and have been looking forward to this appointment for so long. I am also currently working on my baby registry which is making my head spin but I promise to share my list with you all when it’s complete. That’s all for now! Leave me a comment with any more questions you might have. Happy to answer!

The post Pregnancy / First Trimester appeared first on eat.sleep.wear. - Fashion & Lifestyle Blog by Kimberly Pesch.

from Wellness http://www.eatsleepwear.com/2018/03/27/pregnancy-first-trimester/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

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cristinajourdanqp · 7 years ago

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Being Keto-Adapted Is One Helluva Ride!

It’s Friday, everyone! And that means another Primal Blueprint Real Life Story from a Mark’s Daily Apple reader. If you have your own success story and would like to share it with me and the Mark’s Daily Apple community please contact me here. I’ll continue to publish these each Friday as long as they keep coming in. Thank you for reading!

My name is Aaron. I’m 35-years-old. I live in the Lehigh Valley of PA where I am the only custom tailor. This is my story of how an innocent foray in LCHF (low carb, high fat) turned into a full blown keto lifestyle shift. What a journey it’s been and I’m only just getting started!

Ok, so let’s get the junk out of the way first. Last summer, I was freshly divorced. I had to move into a shoebox sized apartment where I fed myself a steady diet of ramen noodles, Captain Crunch, heavy imperial stouts, and copious amounts of sour candy….usually fueled by alcohol driven hunger and a new little appetite tweaker I discovered…cannabis and the munchies. It only took a few months of this type of living for me to feel incredibly sick.

When I wasn’t smoking, I was incredibly nauseous and couldn’t eat. So, I used cannabis to give myself the munchies so I didn’t feel like I was going to die. I found myself in a cycle that I didn’t like. I liked the weed, but I didn’t like the munchies. Was it the munchies or the bad food that was the problem? One night it just hit me….I hit the blunt and then thought to myself, “whoa, like maybe I should fix my diet.”

Brilliant revelation, right??

Rewind a few years back to when I was 25. I was in fairly decent shape and pretty lean. I worked out heavily and had the results to show for it. I won’t blame marriage for getting me fat, but I did indeed get fat once I got married. Steady typical SAD diet for the entire duration.

So, near the end of 2016 everyone is thinking about New Year’s resolutions to lose weight. I’m busy drinking, chasing women, and getting stoned—eating a ton of sugar and was nowhere near making that kind of resolution. I just didn’t believe I’d ever be that in-shape again. I tried working out again but it was unbearable. Geez, to even walk a few blocks on a 40 degree day made me sweat profusely so how the hell was I gonna be able to work out in a gym?! Do I just give up the booze for awhile? How about the weed? What about sugar? Admittedly, I was lost and a little hopeless but man did I love the taste of whipped cream in cappuccinos.

That got me thinking….

I had heard somewhere about adding fat to your diet and removing carbs, but from my earlier gym days, I just couldn’t make the connection. I was stuck rooted in the old, using exercise to lose weight and create a calories burned vs calories consumed thinking. Even though I never could piece together how that exactly worked, I was willing to give adding fats and cutting carbs a shot…

Enter my first foray into making bulletproof cappuccinos around mid February this year…

Delicious as ever. Never would’ve thought butter, coconut oil and stevia would taste so good in coffee. I was enjoying waking up every morning to one of these, but what surprised me was the longer period of time I could go before having to eat. I also noticed a few pounds gently slipping away and got curious…what if I add more butter to everything else? Started doing exactly that.

So, late February 2016 I was doing BP coffee every morning and butter loaded tomato soup (and crappy Campbells too!). My appetite went away, and I just let it. Little did I know that I was basically doing an intermittent fat fast. I was getting to a point where I was adding up to 6 tbsp of butter and oil plus frothed heavy cream AND egg yolks in the cappuccino but really had no idea if it was actually healthy or not, so I Googled “effects of eating too much butter” and landed on a forum post at, you guessed it, MDA.

I saw a 60-something ripped dude named Mark on the front page, plus a success story of an even older guy who was also ripped. The competitor in me thought, “Hey if these old dudes are ripped off whatever this diet is, then wtf is my excuse?!” So I read and read and read until I had the start of the puzzle completed in my mind. I knew I had to act.

Upon realizing that this was a whole foods diet, I knew I’d need to learn how to cook. What a mountain of learning that was. I went crazy. Purged my cupboards of all sugar, grains, and bad oils. Stopped eating out almost immediately and started cooking. Wow, to eat whole foods even fruits and not get violently sick to my stomach? Oh what a feeling.

By the end of March 2016, I had dropped nearly 45 lbs. My girlfriend left for a 2 week trip to Mexico in early March. She had noticed the weight loss but we had no idea what was actually happening. When she left early March, I was wearing 38s. When she got back I was in 34s.

I thought I was done there and, quite frankly, if that’s where my weight loss journey had stopped, I would’ve been quite content and proud of myself. Everyone around me was complimenting me and some even expressing concern that I was getting too thin too fast. I thought there was no such thing and I could still see good amounts of fat deposits that I would be happy to be without so I kept it up. More primal cooking and eating. I was on my way to becoming fat adapted and I wouldn’t be stopped!

I didn’t exercise once during the first 2 months. I was basically sedentary. I really didn’t have the energy to do anything but that changed pretty fast. I tried mountain biking again and felt like I was some kind of super human. However, the next few times I rode, I experienced really bad bonking and wondered what was going on. How did I have energy before but now I’m bonking periodically? I now know I was pushing too hard during the fat adaptation phase creating a demand for glucose….I used a bit of fruit to push through this.

By late April 2016, I was looking and feeling good but I was also plateaued. I could see more fat needed to come off but wondered why the BP coffee and whole foods diet wasn’t working as well. I researched more and discovered the power of real intermittent fasting.

I kicked out the BP coffee in place of lightly sweetened black coffee in the mornings then did a typical fast-breaking in the afternoon with a salad or eggs etc then a more legit meal later on in the evening. I also started sprinting.

By early summer I was wearing my jeans on an 80 degree day and realized that I wasn’t sweating hardly at all. The man that used to sweat on a 40 degree day was now borderline cold in the middle of the summer. Oh well, I saved on my AC bills and got over it. I also noticed that those jeans felt a little loose. I thought, “no way I’m actually in 32s now.” Sure enough, I was able to fit nicely into 32s. Lesson learned…when you’re on the keto weight loss slide, wait to buy a lot of new clothing.

By midsummer, I returned to my lifting habits. Thankfully, I had a base of knowledge on how to lift so I experienced results very quickly. My thinking during all of this was, “let’s see how low carb I can actually be without experiencing real fatigue.” In essence, I only wanted enough carbs as I possibly needed and not one gram more. I found myself able to ride my bike and lift with a fair amount of intensity…even in a fasted state!

By late summer (August 2017), I wondered again if it was just my new stretchy skinny fit 32s needed to be washed and dried to give them that tight-ish post dryer fit again or if, God forbid, my entire new stash of 32s was too big. Sure enough, I went and tried on a pair of 30s and whoa they fit! I figured since I can see feel my pelvic bones poking off the sides of my hips along with a full blown 6 pack looming to 8 pack abs (and also the total extinction of my ass) that I must be at that often desperately sought after “ideal body composition.” The ripped guy you see in the after pics was taken on that day.

BOOM! I knew I had arrived. I knew I was fat adapted. I had developed a system of food shopping and meal prep to fully support it. I knew my life from there on out would never be the same. Going Primal is one of the best decisions, if not the best decision, I have ever made for my personal health.

But….what about the ketogenic diet? I was very curious about it, but it seemed like a fringe version of primal to me and a lot of the recipes I looked up were loaded with strange ingredients that didn’t seem to be in line with a Primal way of eating. However, right around this exact time (about a month or so ago), I started seeing Mark posting a lot about keto and his own experiment with it. When the announcement came for the The Keto Reset Diet book, I knew I was on the right track.

The Keto Reset Diet was released on my birthday. I don’t like to read but I got it for free by starting up with Audible. Listening to the book gave me a much better understanding of how each of the various macros affect the brain and the body. I realized that my eating habits were pretty close to what was in the book so I decided then and there that I will likely stay in the “keto zone” for the rest of my life. I will be going in and out of keto for the purpose of maximizing metabolic efficiency. Wow…it seemed so crazy that it was even possible that I went from being a completely sick and depressed fat guy knowing nothing about food to a ripped fat- burning beast who’s not so bad in the kitchen in the span of half a year!

On my birthday, I posted the before and afters to my Instagram and announced that I would be adding keto-based weightloss consulting to my services as a tailor. I have a lot of fat clients who have no time but lots of money, so why not monetize my experience, make money off of helping them lose the weight and make even more money selling them new clothing?! As if I wasn’t niched out enough…

So there ya have it. Now I’m off to the keto races, and I think I’ll change a few lives and get a little richer while I’m on the way there. Yes, that means I signed up to become a Primal Health Coach.

Here are a few bullet points of the positives and negatives I have experienced along the way plus a few tips:

Positives: – Way more energy – Much better sleep – Obvious improvements to physique and exercise performance – Super speedy recovery times and no jet lag! – Effortless appetite management – Ability to fast for 24, 48, or even 72 hours…at will – Radically improved cognition – No more depression – The tug of other “addictive behaviors” significantly reduced. In fact, I quit drinking permanently on August 1st of this year. – I still partake in cannabis consumption regularly and indulge in the munchies right along with it….guilt free! It plays well with this diet!

Negatives: – Getting fat and losing weight is expensive. The food replacements, cooking equipment, and time spent figuring it all out and dialing in how much to buy and eat was a costly endeavor top to bottom. – I completely rendered a large custom wardrobe useless and had to replace all of it. So will you. – I’m definitely one of those annoying health nuts now and have had to figure out all kinds of social behaviors to manage the awkwardness. – There really aren’t many other negatives.

Tips: – Read The Keto Reset Diet – Let the diet do the work. Stay low and slow and don’t try to exercise too hard until you’re ready especially in the beginning. You will feel the energy surging through you but ignore it for a while and take it easy. – Get your macros right and don’t slouch on green veggies, salt and other minerals. – Watch your protein intake. No need to raise it to the roof. – “Fake Keto” recipes out there for replacing common comfort foods usually using high amounts of dairy and almond/coconut flour and fruit are only for the truly fat-burning, keto-adapted, carb-tolerant beasts among us. Do yourself a favor and go therapeutic keto from the start with proper macros and fats from mainly animal sources. Eat those greens! – Ditch the artificial sweeteners and train out sweet tastes from your palate at least for awhile. – Fasting protocols maybe work better for men. Women might want to start eating proper macros and let the brain/body do the work before getting into IF protocols (just my opinion). – Sprint while fasted to bust plateaus. – Got the keto flu? Eat some avocados or supplement with apple cider vinegar, pink sea salt, and cream of tartar (high potassium) mixed in water. Then get over it and go sprint. – Stop waiting and get on board the keto train! Being keto-adapted is one helluva ride!

Aaron H.

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fishermariawo · 7 years ago

Text

Being Keto-Adapted Is One Helluva Ride!

Brilliant revelation, right??

That got me thinking….

Enter my first foray into making bulletproof cappuccinos around mid February this year…

Here are a few bullet points of the positives and negatives I have experienced along the way plus a few tips:

Aaron H.

0 notes

milenasanchezmk · 7 years ago

Text

Being Keto-Adapted Is One Helluva Ride!

Brilliant revelation, right??

That got me thinking….

Enter my first foray into making bulletproof cappuccinos around mid February this year…

Here are a few bullet points of the positives and negatives I have experienced along the way plus a few tips:

Aaron H.

0 notes

watsonrodriquezie · 7 years ago

Text

Being Keto-Adapted Is One Helluva Ride!

Brilliant revelation, right??

That got me thinking….

Enter my first foray into making bulletproof cappuccinos around mid February this year…

Here are a few bullet points of the positives and negatives I have experienced along the way plus a few tips:

Aaron H.

0 notes

cynthiamwashington · 7 years ago

Text

Being Keto-Adapted Is One Helluva Ride!

Brilliant revelation, right??

That got me thinking….

Enter my first foray into making bulletproof cappuccinos around mid February this year…

Here are a few bullet points of the positives and negatives I have experienced along the way plus a few tips:

Aaron H.

(function($) { $("#dfFhzWK").load("http://ift.tt/2irt1r9" ); })( jQuery );

The post Being Keto-Adapted Is One Helluva Ride! appeared first on Mark's Daily Apple.

Article source here:Marks’s Daily Apple

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type2diabetestreatments-blog · 8 years ago

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"Golden Rules" for Living with Type 1 Diabetes

New Post has been published on http://type2diabetestreatment.net/diabetes-mellitus/golden-rules-for-living-with-type-1-diabetes/

"Golden Rules" for Living with Type 1 Diabetes

One of the best resources for learning about diabetes and connecting with other PWDs (people with diabetes) locally can be summed up in five letters: TCOYD.

That would be Taking Control of Your Diabetes, the national educational conference series founded by endocrinologist and longtime type 1 Dr. Steven Edelman in San Diego. He's not only a super-knowledgeable clinician and researcher, but a really funny, passionate guy who infuses these day-long seminars with energy and inspiration. Seriously, everything I need to know about diabetes I learned at TCOYD.

For the past dozen years, I've had the privilege of speaking at my local Santa Clara event, that brings in about 1,000 patients for a full day of talks, panels, activities, a product expo and a banquet lunch -- all at the affordable price tag of just $20 per person!

This year, I was honored to be on a very cool opening panel for the Type 1 Track led by another awesome accomplished endo + type 1, Dr. Jeremy Pettus (who shared his smarts on alcohol and diabetes with us here).

Our panel was titled, "Golden Rules for Type 1s: Tips for Living Well with Diabetes," and included Dr. Bruce Buckingham of Stanford, Dr. Christine Ferrara of UCSF, Adam Brown of diaTribe, and Yours Truly from the 'Mine.

I think the audience really appreciated that we weren't trying to act as if we had all the answers, but rather just talking turkey about the realities of the hour-by-hour challenges of T1D. I thought you all might enjoy hearing the answers I prepared for this session, which aren't exactly "golden rules" but my own personal best practices, such as they are...

TCOYD) Do you have an overarching philosophy with your approach to managing your diabetes?

Amy) Do just enough to stay in decent control while STAYING SANE.

Has this philosophy changed over time?

It’s only grown stronger. Not having regular meltdowns over diabetes issues is an ongoing effort.

What would you say is the most important thing that has made a difference in your type 1 life and helped you keep on track? Inner strength/approach? A healthcare provider? Family members? Your job?

The support of my family for sure, and to a large extent exercise -- which makes me feel good physically and psychologically.

I also think it's super important to connect with other PWDs for sanity checks (TCOYD is excellent for that!)

What therapy or equipment has made the biggest difference in your life (CGM, pump, rapid insulin)?

I would say the OmniPod tubeless pump and Dexcom CGM. I love being able to pump with no dangling cannula, and the CGM has been a huge game-changer in just being constantly aware of what's happening in my body. I've also been using Afrezza inhaled insulin for the past year and have found the biggest advantage of that is having less complexity with IOB (insulin on board).

As you know, injected insulin sticks around in your system for four hours, whereas Afrezza is in and out in 1.5 hours. That means way less chance of insulin stacking, going low during exercise, nighttime lows, and more.

How important, or not, has a healthcare provider been in your success?

From my POV, the priority is that your HCP does NOT annoy / judge / misunderstand you / dismiss your concerns. You need to be comfortable and feel respected with that person! I have been fortunate to find such a doctor, although I must admit I don't see her all that often.

When everything goes to shit, what is usually the reason? Travel? Life stress? Change in diet? And what do you do to get back on track?

Travel and lack of sleep are huge for me; they usually go hand-in-hand. For that, I do my best to eat as low-carb as possible and check often, plus correct often.

Laziness / procrastination are also big factors. There are lots of times when my pump is beeping that it's time for a pod change or my CGM is alarming high, and I just don't want to deal with it immediately. I don't want to have to drop what I'm doing. But the results are almost always bad. I chalk this one up to being human.

Finally, my period does wonky things to my BG levels that are hard to predict. For the Ladies reading this: am I right? Hormonal cycles have a strong effect on blood sugar, an issue that's not discussed or explored enough.

How do you deal with exercise? Does it help your BGs or make them worse?

It’s constant trial and error. I have some set Temp Basals that I use regularly for spin class, aerobics, kick boxing, hiking and other workouts, but they’re far from fool-proof. To me, the most important thing is not to have to eat a bunch of empty calories I’m not hungry for -- in other words, to avoid going low at all costs, which often means I end up high after exercise and have to spend several hours at least chasing those highs. Come to think of it, I could use some improvement in this area.

What's your approach to food? Do you eat whatever the hell you want and just bolus for it, or do you avoid certain foods? Do you have any additional dietary restrictions?

I’m also gluten-intolerant, which is a pain in the rear, but it helps keep me very low-carb. I try to eat as low-carb as possible without making myself miserable -- meaning I try to do "just a taste" of the carby foods I desire most (which for me is mainly tortilla chips and granola bars).

Overall, I just eat a lot of protein and veggies, mostly salads. Thank God I actually like kale 🙂

How involved, or not, is your significant other in your diabetes? Do you want them more or less involved? If you could tell them one thing to change, what would that be?

My partner is very supportive, but not at all involved in the daily nitty-gritty. That's usually how I like it.

If I could change one thing, I guess I wish that instead of peering over my shoulder every once in a while to ask something like, "175, wow isn't that kind of high?," he would periodically ask a broader question, like, “Hey, how’s it going with your diabetes?” and then just listen to whatever I feel like sharing -- without necessarily trying to "fix it."

What do you LOVE to eat when you are low?

Raisins! I loved to eat lots of dried fruit before I got diagnosed, and had a hard time giving that up. Now I buy copious amounts of those little red snack boxes of raisins. Did you know the mini-boxes come in chocolate-covered and yogurt-covered varieties now too? Yum!

I stash them in my car, purse, nightstand, kitchen, suitcase, etc.

I stock up so much that one day when I had a bunch of six-packs piled in the backseat of my car, I picked up my daughter and her little friend asked, "Does your mom sell raisins?!"

Tell us a time that you have used type 1 to your advantage?

This is a hard one to admit, but I've definitely used it to get to the front of a buffet line. When I get really hungry, it feels like a low, even if my BG isn't dipping too badly. If you tell people you have type 1 diabetes and need to eat now, they're usually accommodating.

I've also had my doctor write me a letter to avoid jury duty. She actually encouraged me to get out of it if possible, because it really is tough if you get stuck there for weeks on end -- in terms of being able to eat right, exercise, etc. (Before you get judgy, know that many PWDs have gone this route.)

What does "being in control" mean to you? Is it an A1C? No hypos? Time in range?

I would say an A1C of 7.4 or less WITHOUT FREQUENT HYPOS.

My good friend Dr. Richard Jackson of Joslin Diabetes Center always encouraged me to think of "good control" this way -- not as pressure for ever-lower A1Cs, but maintaining a decent level without frequent lows, which shows that you are actually staying "in range" most of the time.

Tell us about your approach to complications. If you have them, how do you deal with them? If you don't, how often do they enter your mind?

I don’t have any yet, knock on wood! But I do think about them often – especially for eyes and feet, which are my “weak spots.” Gotta get those screenings regularly!

Give us a parting piece of advice to others on how to make life with type 1 better?

I’d return to my overarching philosophy: “Do just enough to stay in decent control while STAYING SANE.”

Sanity in this case means allowing yourself slip-ups, and taking time for family, friends and activities you enjoy (and occasional food splurges) WITHOUT FEELINGS OF GUILT.

So Dear Readers, got any "golden rules" of your own to share?

Disclaimer: Content created by the Diabetes Mine team. For more details click here.

Disclaimer

This content is created for Diabetes Mine, a consumer health blog focused on the diabetes community. The content is not medically reviewed and doesn't adhere to Healthline's editorial guidelines. For more information about Healthline's partnership with Diabetes Mine, please click here.

Type 2 Diabetes Treatment Type 2 Diabetes Diet Diabetes Destroyer Reviews Original Article

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